I figured it's about time I have a masterlist. I do not write fics often, only when I'm asked to be in a collab or the chance occasion when I'm not working on an original project and divine inspiration for BTS strikes. This is mainly a fic rec blog, but with a fic sprinkled in here and there!
Kim Seokjin
Min Yoongi
Untitled
Returning the Favor (smutty sequel to Untitled)
Kim Namjoon
All I Want for Christmas is Joon (part of the Jingle All the Way collab)
you and your boyfriend haven't been very intimate lately due to his busy schedule. on your day off, you decide to pay him a surprise visit at his workshop — where he shows you the vintage car he's working on. your neediness leads you to getting fucked on and against the rare piece.
genre – blue-collar bf au, smut, fluff.
pairing – mechanic bf jk x gf fem reader.
warnings – explicit language, oral (fem receiving), handjob, they crack in his workshop, he gets grease on her tits and ass, big dick jk, she rides him (he assists) on a car, praising, pussy-whipped jk, cock-drunk y/n, jk comforts her, he fucks her against his car, he sniffs her panties, tit sucking, mentions of shower sex etc...
wc – 7k+
Jungkook sighs in relief as he opens the front door to your shared apartment. it's been a rough twelve-hour shift of doing diagnostic tests on vehicles, repairing gearboxes and spending time under bonnets. he steps inside, closes the door after him then kicks off his boots. the place smells amazing, rich with the scent of something delicious and chocolate. he rolls his shoulders, feeling the deep ache in his muscles from the strenuous work he's been doing most of the day. honestly, none of it matters now, not when he gets to finally come back to you. you, his entire universe,
he's been obsessed with you since the day you drove into his workshop in your small, pink car with a flat tyre. you had given him the sweetest, warmest smile he had ever seen. after some talk, he had found out that you were a nurse, the kindest nurse with the biggest heart ever. you could've had anyone gentle, yet you chose him – the greasy mechanic who would work so hard to give you everything you want.
months later, after finding out that you had feelings for him, he had rearranged his whole life for you. he quit his bad habits – spending nights at the bar with his friends, being out at strip clubs, running through woman after woman. now his world orbits around you. you're his everything and more. he'd kill for you, die for you. you're his sole purpose.
Jungkook runs a messy hand through his hair. he should probably get cleaned first, get his greasy attire off, he should get in the hot shower and wash the grime away. but he just wants to see you first. he follows the magnificent scent to the kitchen, where he finds you. you're already all clean in your little, silky pyjamas, bending forward to peek in the oven. Jungkook takes note of how your ass is stretched in the fabric, how your shorts are ridden up to show your cheeks. he heats up at the sexy sight. he is so exhausted, but one simple look at you is enough to make him melt into pure happiness.
when you notice that your goodies are nowhere near done, you straighten up. to your surprise and mild shock, when you turn you're met with the sight of Jungkook standing there and admiring you. your face instantly lights up and you give him the brightest smile.
"Jungkook!" you exclaim, already making your way toward him.
he holds up his greasy hands, chuckling, "baby, no, I'm all messy–"
you launch yourself at him, obviously not bothered by the state he's in. how could you ever be? you wrap your arms tightly around his waist and press your body against his harder one. the sweet, alluring smell of you hits Jungkook and his eyes flutter shut. hesitantly, his forearms come around you, not wanting to get dirt on you. but you wrap your arms tight around him, pressing your body against his hard one. your sweet, pretty scent hits Jungkook, his eyes flutter shut as he inhales it. you nuzzle your face into his chest, not caring about the grease stains on his shirt.
"missed you so damn much." he admits.
you squeeze him tighter, squashing your cheek against his hard chest. "missed you more."
he grins, his face breaking into the sweet and gentle smile only you get to see. "impossible."
you roll your eyes at him, not in the mood to argue. you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips. Jungkook wants to give you a good kiss, wants to hold you close to him, but he holds back. "let me shower first, yeah? I'll hold you properly–"
"no." you say with a little pout. your hands slide up his chest, fisting into his shirt. "hold me properly now. kiss me nicely, Jungkook."
he sighs, knowing that he could never say no to you. to his sweet, pretty girl. his everything. his arms tighten around you, pulling you close. he leans down and kisses you. the kiss starts off soft and gentle, but you have other ideas – you deepen the kiss and insert your tongue in his mouth, letting your hands roam his chest and abs under his shirt. your fingers make their way down until they find his belt. Jungkook lets out a groan. his cock twitches in his pants as you press your body closer against his. you slide your knee between his legs, rubbing his growing erection. Jungkook grunts against your mouth, one of his hands slides down to grab a handful of your ass, he squeezes then smacks it, causing you to gasp into the kiss.
he pulls back to speak against your lips. "behave or else I'm gonna bend you over the counter and get grease on you."
you giggle and pull back to look at him. "go shower then. but hurry, I have something in the oven for you."
Jungkook pecks your lips one last time before reluctantly letting you go. you smile and caress his jaw, stealing one more kiss before he makes his way over to the bathroom.
––
the shower feels good, the hot water cascades over Jungkook as he washes away the grease and sweat of today. he stays inside for a bit longer than he needs to, enjoying the way the water soothes his muscles. once he's done, he turns off the water and wraps a towel around his hips. once in your shared bedroom, he dries himself and pulls on a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a shirt before walking back to the living room and dropping onto the couch with a sigh. he man spreads on the couch, tipping his head back onto the cushions. he's tired and his body is sore, but knowing that you're just a few steps away fills him up with so much of contentment.
a minute later, you appear carrying a saucer with a brownie sitting on it. you walk over to him and Jungkook's face breaks into a smile. he sits up and spreads his thigh wider, making room for you to sit on him.
"come here, baby."
you set the saucer down on the coffee table and plant yourself on him, straddling his lap with your knees on either side of him. you wrap your arms around his neck and his hands make their way under your little pyjama top to caress your waist. he holds you firmly against him.
"you made brownies?" he asks, his voice laced with wonder.
you hum. "for you." you say before reaching back to grab the saucer. you hold a piece of the brownie to his lips. "I came home and thought you'd like something sweet after a long day."
Jungkook's eyes soften even more. he loves brownies, they're his favourite. and the fact that you came home from your own exhausting day at the hospital and made some for him, makes his heart ache with everlasting love.
"you're too good to me." he murmurs before opening his mouth to take a big bite.
his eyes flutter shut as he chews what is definitely the best brownie he's ever had in his life. his expression changes to an almost angry one – the one he makes when something is extremely good to eat. fun fact, it's the exact face he makes when he goes down on you.
"hmm, fuck." he groans as he keeps chewing. "baby, this is so good."
you smile, delighted and feed him another bite which he happily takes. he eats the entire brownie and licks the chocolate off your fingers slowly. when he's done, he attacks your face with pepper kisses all over. you giggle and squirm on his lap, it only makes him hold you tighter and kiss you more.
"it was so fucking good." he says between kisses. "best thing I've had. second only to you."
you cup his face when he finally stops his assault. "is that so?" you ask before leaning in to kiss him.
again, the kiss is sweet, gentle and soft but you deepen it. it soon becomes passionate and heated. Jungkook inserts his tongue in your mouth and you do the same. your tongues explore each other's mouths hungrily. Jungkook's hands go higher, caressing your back while yours tangle in and tug on his damp hair. you carry on kissing for a long while, pouring your love and need for each other into it. when you finally pull back, panting, he holds you tightly. you hold him just as tight, burying your face in his neck, inhaling his scent. you could both stay like this forever – just simply wrapped in one another.
"how was your day, sweetheart?" he asks softly, caressing your back.
you tell him everything. all about your patients of the day, your colleagues and the rest of it. Jungkook intently listens, paying attention to everything you say. he tells you about his day as well – tells you about the cars he and his employees have worked on, the customers they've had and how badly he wanted to get home to you. you both stay like this for a while, you shift a little so your head is resting on his chest and his arms are locked around you. for a long moment, you both stay cuddled on the couch.
eventually, you both feel hungry, together you make something quick and easy and migrate to the dining table to eat. whilst eating, you continue talking and laughing. afterward, you take the rest of the brownies to the couch, put on a movie and cuddle together under a blanket. every now and then you trade kisses.
by the time the movie ends, you're both tired and decide to head to bed. once in bed, Jungkook pulls you against him, spooning you from behind. he leans over to kiss your lips before bidding you goodnight. content, you fall into a deep sleep.
–––
the next morning, Jungkook wakes up first as usual. he spends a few seconds simply watching you sleep, you look so beautiful and peaceful. quietly he gets out of bed, does his morning routine, makes coffee, breakfast and lunch for both of you. afterwards he gets ready for work, slipping on his uniform and boots. after a while you emerge from the room, sleepily. Jungkook thinks that you're so adorable. he greets you and peppers kisses all over your face, making you giggle against him. you do your own routine, drink the coffee and eat the breakfast he's made, ever so grateful to him. once you're ready as well, you both head out together.
Jungkook drives to your workplace with a hand on your thigh, caressing with his thumb now and then. once at the hospital, Jungkook reaches over, cups the back of your neck and pulls you in for a deep kiss. he inserts his tongue into your mouth, tasting you and exploring you. his hand on your thigh wanders further up, getting too close to your core.
"Jungkook!" you gasp against his lips, hitting his hand, with a giggle. "you're going to make me needy before work, you psycho!"
he grins against your mouth and steals another deep and dirty kiss. "good. then you'll think about me all day."
already starting to heat up, you pull away and grab your bag. "goodbye, you." you smile as you hop out, blowing him a kiss. Jungkook watches you walk toward the entrance, making sure you're all the way in before he drives off to his workshop. as he drives, he counts down the hours until he can see you again.
–––
days later, it's a chilly Sunday morning. a nice day off for you, but unfortunately not for Jungkook. he's already ready for the day – morning routine completed, breakfast eaten, work attire on. it's chilly, so you're buried under the covers. still, you reach for him with a sleepy whine, grabbing him and tugging him toward you.
"No, Jungkook. please don't go. it's Sunday, stay with me."
Jungkook's heart squeezes hard. he's supposed to be out the door already, but how can he go when you're like this? he sits on the edge of the bed, close to you.
"baby, I know. I've just got a few things to do. I'll be back as soon as I can."
you sit up and wrap your arms around his waist, breathing him in. "but I miss you already. you work too hard, kook."
Jungkook watches you for a long moment, his expression softening. he grins, loosens your arms around your waist and pushes you back down to lay so he can hover over you. "yeah? you miss me that much?"
he leans down and kisses you deeply, pouring his love into it. you kiss him back, sighing in contentment as you move your mouth with his passionately. after a while, Jungkook breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, then down to your neck. he sucks and nips on your skin, leaving light marks.
"gonna be back to you soon, baby," he promises. "but I'm gonna make it up to you now, yeah?"
your eyes widen at his tone. "Jungkook..."
he keeps going, he kisses you lower, kissing your collar bone, your breasts over your thin pyjama top. he pulls the neckline of your top down enough to expose them to him. he leans down to suck them, causing you to arch up into him and tug on his hair. many days without physically intimacy has you made you both very sensitive and desperate. you moan softly and that sound goes straight to Jungkook's cock, causing it to harden in his pants.
he pulls back from licking and sucking on your breasts to look at you. "let me take care of you."
slowly, he works his way down your body. he kisses and sucks on your skin as he makes his descent down your body. he lifts the hem of your shirt, exposing your stomach, he leaves open-mouthed kisses on it and licks on it, making you giggle a little.
"kook, I'm cold..."
Jungkook grabs the blanket on the bed and pulls it over both of you. under the covers, he continues his sweet assault of kisses. he kisses along the waistband of your shorts before hooking his finger in and tugging it down along with your panties. he settles between your thighs, his broad shoulders keeping your legs apart. he leans and kisses your core, lightly rubbing his lips against your lips.
"so pretty. missed this." he murmurs against you.
you moan his name softly, music to his ears. he takes his time, making out with your pussy lightly, showing how much he actually missed it. he kisses your folds and nips at the bud. after his gentleness, he dives in, licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. he does it multiple times, does it slowly so that he can savour your taste. he groans, causing you to whimper softly. he pecks your clit before bringing it into his mouth, he twirls his tongue around it making you arch up into him and grip his hair.
Jungkook eats you out with such ferocious passion. due to your busy schedules, it's been a while since he's gotten to go down on you. and now that he's here , he's determined to devour you whole. he licks harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance while grinding his nose against your clit. his hands grip your thighs, digging in and encouraging you to squeeze them around his head. you whimper softly, growing more desperate for him. it fuels him up more, he eats you out with more enthusiasm. his tongue works faster, sucking and licking at your pussy. he's got you panting and writhing, sensitive but seeking more and more from him. it doesn't take very long before your thighs are trembling around his head, and your pussy starts fluttering around his tongue. Jungkook swallows your release, and slowly licks you through your orgasm until you're lightly pushing him away, feeling too sensitive.
when he's done and satisfied, he emerges from under the blanket with his nose, lips and chin glistening, his eyes dark. he hovers over you again and you pull him down into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself. you rub your knee against his cock, feeling the hardened, thick bulge in his pants. he hisses and moans into the kiss.
"kookie... I wanna help you." you whisper, reaching for his belt.
Jungkook takes your hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss before resting his forehead on yours. "you can help me after work."
you give him a disappointed pout which he kisses off your lips. "be good for me while I'm gone, yeah?" he gives you another peck. "I love you so much."
"I love you too." you murmur.
he steals one last kiss and forces himself up. with a small groan, he adjusts himself in his pants, gets his keys and heads for the door.
–––
the apartment feels too quiet after Jungkook left. you stay in bed for several minutes after, inhaling his scent and feeling his warmth that are both still faint in the sheets. you wanted to go back to sleep, but the ache and need made it almost impossible. that man and his mouth, he's only made you hungrier for him. after a long while, you finally drag yourself out of bed and wander to the kitchen to make some breakfast.
most of the morning goes by quick. you clean up, do the laundry, watch comfort shows. but you feel lonely and bored. Jungkook's supposed to be at home with you. but of course, you understand, he also had to be at his workshop. he's got a great reputation to uphold and customers to satisfy. he works so hard, his workshop is the best and most reliable in town. he built it up from nothing, so it's something he really values. you're extremely proud of him, but at the same time – not getting enough time with him makes your heart ache.
by early afternoon, you're curled up on the couch, reading a book when your phone starts ringing. you gasp, feeling a wave of happiness at the sight of the caller ID. you answer it and bring it to your ear.
"hi, baby," Jungkook greets, his voice rough and already sounding tired.
"Jungkook. I was just thinking about you." you say, barely being able to hide the excitement in your voice.
he chuckles warmly. "yeah? same, I've been thinking about you the whole day. how are you, baby?"
"I'm okay... although, I miss you like crazy. how about you? how are you? how's work? you sound exhausted already."
"it's busy as hell." he admits. you hear machinery and clanking of tools in the background. "but I'm good. just missing you. wish I was home with you instead of covered in grease."
you sigh and tell him how bad you miss him. afterwards you both fall into sweet talk. you tell him about all that you've done today, he tells you about work and his customers. you giggle at some of the stories he shares, he smiles warmly, loving the sound.
after a moment you finally ask the question you've been dreading. "what time are you coming home?"
Jungkook sighs heavily. "I'm gonna be late, sweetheart. I sent the guys home early since it's Sunday. I'm doing the heavy work by myself, it's gonna take a while. I'm sorry."
you bite your bottom lip and keep quiet for a long time. Jungkook knows that you aren't saying anything because you're upset. and nothing irks him more than upsetting you.
"hey...don't do that," he says gently. "I know you're upset. I'm really sorry, y/n. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
you hum softly. "I know you will. it's just... we haven't been spending much time together lately. I get it, you're busy and the shop is doing well, but we barely even get to be intimate... I miss it, kook."
Jungkook doesn't speak for a short moment, before he hums in agreement. "you're right. I haven't been making enough time for you. I've been pulling so many long days and extra hours. You deserve better than a boyfriend who's always at his workshop."
"you're the best boyfriend." you remind him. "I just want you."
"fuck, I know." he exhales a breath. "when I get home, I'm gonna make love to you. gonna fuck you so good, baby. make up for all the lost time."
you gasp, your body heating up at his words. "Jungkook..."
"you like the sound of that?" he asks, finding himself very eager to get home and make good on his promise.
"you know I do." you admit.
Jungkook chuckles. "you gonna wait for me, hmm?"
"yes."
"good girl," he praises. you hear more tools clinking in the background before Jungkook speaks again. "hey, why don't you go to the mall? I'll send you money. go spoil yourself, baby."
a smile tugs at your lips. "yeah, okay. that sounds good."
"okay, baby. have fun. see you later, yeah?"
"see you later, kook. I love you."
"I love you more, baby."
you hang up. soon after, your phone buzzes with a notification – Jungkook’s sent a very generous amount of money. oh, how he loves to spoil you rotten.
about two hours later, you run a nice, hot bath and sink into it. you sit in it for a very long time, letting the water ease the light aches on your body caused from the work this week. when you get out, you dry yourself and moisturise your body before slipping into something simple for the drive to the mall. you head down to your cute, little car – kind of the reason you had met the love of your life in the first place – get in and start the engine before pulling onto the road and heading toward the mall.
–––
at the mall, you wander through the stores, deciding to get some cute clothes and some provocative attire for later on. you pick some different kinds of dresses – beautiful, soft, see-through and silky ones in the prettiest colours. afterwards, your real fun starts when you get to the lingerie store. you spend a long time browsing, choosing pieces you know Jungkook will love and go crazy over. after an hour or two, you’re leaving the store with multiple bags.
by the time you get home, you excitedly unpack everything and lay them on the bed. your favourite has to be the matching set pink lace bra with the thin lace panties. so you try it on. upon realising that it fits you so perfectly and makes you look so sexy, you decide to take some provocative pictures. just to tease Jungkook a little. you send them to him, eagerly awaiting his reply. but after a few hours, you receive not a single reply from him.. you know that he’s busy, but still, you feel restless and in need of his attention since he’s supposed to spend today with you. a silly thought crosses your mind. why wait for him to reply when you could pay him a little visit? he sent the guys home so that means he’s all alone...
keeping the new set on, you throw over a pretty sundress, grab your keys and head out once again. the drive to his shop is close by, maybe like fifteen minutes away. once you;re there, you park your car in front and step out. the front door is locked, but of course you have your own key. you quietly open it and make your way inside, the smell of motor oil and metal welcomes you immediately. as strange as it is, the smell has sort of become very comforting to you. you walk further into the big workshop, hearing the clinking of tools in the back, along with a few rough and tired grunts that can only belong to your boyfriend. you follow the sound, finding Jungkook under an older, extremely rare Mercedes. seems to be a vintage, maroon model that definitely costs a fortune.
Jungkook is under the car, on his back on a creeper with his legs sticking out and his shirt riding up, exposing his abs along with the smear of grease on his skin. you bite your lip, admiring the majestic sight as you shamelessly press your thighs together. he has no idea how hot he looks so busy and focused, covered in the evidence of his hard work. when he’s about to reach for the spanner next to him, he turns his head in your direction and when he does, your eyes meet. confusion flashes in his, for a second he thinks maybe he’s hallucinating your figure, but upon realising that you’re not a figment of his imagination, a bright and boyish smile breaks across his face. he rolls out from under the car and stands up, towering you as he walks into your space. seeing him up close, you notice how sweaty he is, how messy his hair is. fuck, you would suck his cock so hard right now.
“baby? what are you doing here?” he asks.
you run straight into his arms, holding him tightly. again, he hesitates not wanting to get his dirty hands on you. noticing his hovering hands, you hook a leg around his hip, hoping he’ll get the message, and lift you up. thankfully he does. his strong hands go under your thighs as he lifts you up with ease, smearing some grease onto your skin. you wrap your legs around him and your dress rides up a little. you bury your face in his neck, breathing him in.
“I missed you,” you admit before pressing soft kisses along his neck. “you also weren’t replying to me.”
Jungkook lets out a little groan as holds you tighter, using the opportunity to breathe in your sweet scent. “sorry, baby.” he murmurs, now pressing soft and apologetic kisses on your neck. “I didn’t see them. I’ve been so busy under this thing, I lost track of time. I’m really sorry.” he pulls back to pout his lips. “forgive me?”
a little smile forms on your lips and your heart warms up. you lean in and kiss his lips softly. the kiss starts off so sweet and slow, but soon turns passionate and hungry. your mouths move hungrily together, expressing how much you’ve both missed each other. Jungkook shifts you higher, using the opportunity to move his hands from your thighs to your ass cheeks. after a moment of kissing, you eventually pull away, panting. you cup his jaw and caress his cheeks with your hands as you gaze into his endlessly loving eyes.
“what happened to coming home early?” you ask.
Jungkook’s face scrunches. he glances at the Mercedes then back at you with an apologetic expression. “I got a bit caught up.” he admits. “this beauty needed some love and servicing. it’s such a rare one. I’m sorry, baby. I really thought I’d finish it quickly.”
you shake your head, and let out a soft sigh before wiggling a little to make him release you from his hold. once you’re on your feet again, you turn to the car to look at it properly. it truly is stunning. you know how much Jungkook loves cars like this. he’s been talking about finding one like it for years, and honestly, you’ve fallen in love with the dream alongside him. you walk around the car slowly, trailing your fingers alongside the doors and bonnet.
“it’s beautiful,” you sincerely say before turning back to look up at him. “I can see why you got caught up.”
Jungkook follows your trail, smiling as he watches you admire his new, rare piece. “yeah? you like it?”
you hum while nodding. “a lot.”
“hmm. you should hear the engine.” he says excitedly, your heart flutters at that look on his face.
when you’re both near the driver’s door, he opens it for you. “come on, sit.”
you huff out a little laugh and slide into the leather seat. Jungkook leans in close to you and reaches over to adjust the seat for you. when he turns his head to glance at you, his breath fans your face. he pecks the tip of your nose, making you giggle.
“start her up,” he says.
you turn the key until the engine starts. “wow.” you breathe, listening to the rev. “it sounds amazing.”
to you, it truly does. but to the experienced mechanic, he hears something he’s not too fond of. something that needs to be fixed at once. “hold on.. switch it off for a second.”
he gets back under. the car moves a little as he fiddles with something, and again, you hear the sound of tools clinking. after a few minutes, he emerges again. from inside the car, you take a good look at him. there’s new motor oil smeared across his collarbone, dripping inside his shirt. his veiny arms and long, thick fingers are even greasier. it must be the ovulation demon speaking again, but you desperately need to fuck him. he walks back and leans back inside the car, crowding your space. this time he starts the engine. as it revs, it sounds even smoother. it sounds perfect. but you’re not so concerned about the car, your eyes linger on Jungkook. you lick your lips at the fine sight. you lean in and lick a long stripe across the side of his neck before licking his earlobe and then catching it between your teeth.
“can I take it for a ride?” you whisper. a little bit teasing.
Jungkook’s eyes darken. he glances sideways at you. he doesn’t answer you. he licks into your mouth, kisses you deep and nibbles on your bottom lip, causing you to whimper needily, before speaking. “not yet.” he says, roughly against your lips. “still got a few things to sort out. but soon, baby.”
“okay.” you whisper with a sweet smile, despite your mind wandering off to dark and filthy places.
he pulls back reluctantly and goes to the front of the car to close the bonnet. quickly you make your way out and walk over to Jungkook, closing the distance between you. he turns to look down at you, you use the opportunity to push him down until he’s on the edge of the closed bonnet. his eyes widen in surprise as you climb onto his lap and straddle him, looping your arms around his neck. your dress rides up high on your thighs as you settle on him.
“if I can’t take the car for a ride...’ you lean in to speak near his ear. “can I take you for a ride instead?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen. feeling you press against him so deliciously makes his cock twitch hard beneath you. “baby...” he starts off, his voice so low and hesitant.
he looks down at his hands – dirty with oil and grease, then at his work attire. “I’m kinda gross right now. we should wait until I–”
you don’t let him finish. you shut him up by cupping his face to pull him in for a deep kiss. he groans into it, kissing you back, not being able to help himself. he inserts his tongue into your mouth, exploring your mouth, letting you do the same to him. you both make out desperately, like you’re trying to devour and consume each other. your noses are pressed together, causing your breaths to mingle as you both moan. you notice his hands hovering near your hips, like he’s uncertain if whether he should touch you or not. you grab his wrists and guide them down, making him hold you.
“touch me.” you whisper against his lips.
he groans and slides his hands under your dress, gripping your thighs and your ass, causing the grease from his hands to smear onto your skin. he pulls you hard against you, encouraging you grind on him to feel the thick and hard bulge in his pants. you grind against it again and again, rolling your hips on him so your clothed pussy rubs against him.
“fuck,” he grunts into your mouth.
he kisses you deep and dirtily again while you continue to grind against him, making his cock throb beneath you. eagerly, your hands make their way down to his pants so you can open the buttons and pull the zipper down. when you get his pants open, Jungkook lifts up his hips and helps you get his pants, along with his boxers down his thighs, just enough to free his cock. it springs free against his stomach, it’s hard, big and licking at the tip. you barely get time to admire it because Jungkook’s hands are on the hem of your dress so he can pull it up over your head and discard near his toolbox.
when his gaze is back on you, his throws his head back and curses roughly. “holy shit.” the pink lingerie accentuates your figure perfectly and Jungkook cannot be more grateful to call you his. you’re such a vision, so fucking perfect he might cry or bust a nut right now. he leans a bit down to latch his mouth onto your cleavage. hungrily, he kisses and sucks along the tops of your breasts, leaving open mouthed kisses and sucking marks onto you. you tilt your head back and moan loudly as he continues his sweet assault.
“these are so fucking pretty,” he says hoarsely, tracing the fabric. “but they’re gonna get messed up.”
“I don;t care,” you breathe out needily. “I just want you, please.”
Jungkook takes a moment to admire you, his eyes lingering on the lace on your body. one of his hands moves behind to unclasp your bra, causing grease to smear across it as he unhooks it and pulls the straps down your shoulders before discarding the bra onto his tools. your breasts spill free, nipples already pebbled and begging for attention. Jungkook lets out a low curse before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it greedily and twirling his tongue around it. he moves to the other and gives it the same treatment before pulling back and biting down on your breast. he sucks on it, leaving marks. as he bites and sucks on one of your breasts, he kneads the other with his big, greasy hand.
you tug on his hair with one of your hands, holding him against your chest while your other hand makes its way between the both you so you can wrap it around his hard cock. its big and thick in your hand as you pump it, using your thumb to rub circles on the leaking tip, making him hiss and hum against your breasts. as he devours at your breasts, and you stroke his cock, you keep grinding against him, becoming awfully aroused.
“Jungkook... I want you inside me. please.”
with a wet pop, he pulls back from your breasts with heavy lidded, lustful eyes looking up at you. “I can’t prep you properly, baby.” he holds up his hand, showing you the grease and motor oil still on it. “you’re gonna have to take me like this. will you manage?”
you nod eagerly.
“you sure?” he asks, wanting to make sure you’re certain.
you cup his face and speak breathlessly. “Jungkook, just fuck me.”
Jungkook bites his bottom lip and he nods. he’s so eager for this as well. at this point, he’s dying to be inside you. “okay, sweetheart.”
his messy hands go down to your hips, tugging at your panties. you lift up so he can pull them down and take them completely off. once they’re off, he bunches it in his hand and without breaking eye contact, he brings it to his nose. he deeply inhales the scent, taking in the new smell mixed the scent of you. he hums appreciatively before tossing it down on his tools, along with your bra. afterwards, he firmly grips your ass cheeks and lifts you up. you reach between your bodies, wrap your hand around his cock again and guide it toward your soaked entrance. since you haven’t gotten any prep, you and him haven’t been sexually active in so long, and he’s so fucking huge – you know that this is going to hurt. but still, you sink down slowly. his tip enters you and you whimper. luckily, you’re so wet and eager, it helps with the burn. Jungkook’s grip on your ass tightens, controlling your descent on his cock so you don’t take him too fast.
“easy, baby.” he murmurs against your cheek before kissing it. he pulls you closer, so your chest is against his. “is it too much?” he asks.
you nod and your eyes water, but you keep going. you whimper as his cock thoroughly stretches your walls. he holds you comfortingly and whispers praises as he kisses you wherever he can, while you take him inch by inch. he’s panting, fighting the urge to thrust up into you. after a moment, you’re finally all sunken down on him, all the way. you drop your head onto his shoulder, panting hard against him as you try to adjust. he wraps his arms around you, one hand caresses your back soothingly.
“you okay, baby? talk to me.’
you nod and exhale shakily. “yeah...i’m okay. just really full.”
after a moment, you decide to move a bit. you roll your hips and lift up a little before sinking back down. Jungkook grunts deeply. “fuck, you’re so tight and soaked.”
you hum and go a little faster once the discomfort fades. Jungkook helps, using his grip on your ass, he slowly lifts you up and slams you back down on him. soon enough, the pain fades away completely and turns into pleasure. you begin to ride him harder, bouncing faster on his cock. you’re absolute ecstasy, so happy to have him like this again. Jungkook feels the exact same way. there’s nothing more relieving than being buried inside you. he’s in pure bliss.
“that’s it, baby,” he groans.
he helps you bounce harder, thrusting up into you so get in deeper. your breasts bounce near his face, he uses the opportunity to bury his nose between them for a moment, inhaling you scent before leaning back to lick and suck at your nipples again. his hazy eyes look at the grease marks his hands left on your breasts, alongside the hickeys he’s sucked onto you. he feels a deep sense of satisfaction, seeing how you look so marked up by him.
you rake your nails down his back and his broad shoulders, before threading your fingers through his hair to pull him in to peck his parted lips. both of you pant into each other’s mouths as your paces become more desperate. the workshop is filled with the wet sounds of your skin meeting his, your loud moans, Jungkook’s groans and praises.
“I’m gonna come soon,” you say breathlessly.
“me too, baby.” Jungkook admits, thrusting up into you harder.
you both keep going until you release first. your pussy flutters around him as you come hard with a cry. the feeling of you releasing around his cock pushes Jungkook over the edge as well. he buries himself deep inside you with a groan and fills you up. for a long moment you both stay panting and clinging to each other, reeling from the high. once you’ve both calmed down a little, you smash your lips together in a hungry and heated kiss. you hum into his mouth when his tongue slides into your mouth. eventually, Jungkook pulls back and scoops you up in his arms again, securely holding you under your thighs. he carries you to the side of the Mercedes, lets you down and turns you around so your front presses against the window at the door. your breasts squish against the glass, causing your nipples to harden at the slight coolness.
the position you’re in exposes your ass, and he takes advantage of it. he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them before delivering a delicious smack to one of them. Jungkook admires the greasy handprint he left behind, a perfect print of his hand. he feels a deep sense of possessiveness.
“look at that...” he murmurs proudly.
he leans in close so his lips brush your ear, he licks your earlobe and nips on it. “you gonna let me fuck you, baby?”
you whimper, feeling your legs tremble. the first round was phenomenal, but you do need more of him, so much more. to make up for the lost time. you nod eagerly. “yes...please.”
Jungkook hums before kissing along the side of your neck while roaming his hands over you. he gropes your ass, squeezes your breasts, and pinches your nipples. his cock hardens, rubbing against your soaked pussy. you push back against him, impatient and desperate to have him inside you again. he moves his hand away from your breast and lightly wraps it around his cock, rubbing the tip between your folds teasingly.
you whine and push back against him harder. “Jungkook, stop teasing me.”
“sorry, baby.” he whispers and kisses your shoulder apologetically.
he then lines himself up and pushes in slowly, stretching you again. you gasp at thefeeling. slowly, very slowly he keeps going, penetrating you inch by inch while he caresses your hips soothingly. every couple of seconds, he gently asks if you’re okay. you assure him that you are, and only then does he continue going in. he uses the grip on your hips to pull you back against him so he can sink in deeper until he’s completely buried inside you again. the fullness of him makes you moan.
“you good/” he asks, staying completely still for a moment, getting you used to him again.
“yes–” you say.
Jungkook starts moving, slowly thrusting in and out of you. it doesn’t take you long to get used to the stretch. when you tell him to go faster, he doesn’t hesitate. his grip on your hips tightens, he makes you arch your back more, so the angle can be deeper. the movements causes your breasts to slide against the window, leaving humid marks on the glass every time he thrusts in and out. you moan as he starts slamming his hips into you.
“faster, Jungkook..”
he groans, more than happy to fulfil your demand. his pace becomes animalistic as he fucks you faster, causing the car to rock slightly. your hands press against the window for leverage as he relentlessly slams his cock into you. you’re feeling so cock drunk, so lost in the ecstatic feeling of being fucked so good and loved so much. you murmur incoherent things, your breath fogging up the window. after a while of snapping his hips into you, he leans in close to roughly speak.
“I’m close, baby.”
“me too..” you whimper.
after a few more deep thrusts, you release again, clenching hard around him. right after you do, he’s burying himself deep and releasing as well. he fucks your combined releases into your pussy. he keeps thrusting into you until you’re complaining about being oversensitive. you both stay there for a moment, joined and panting. after a while you let out a soft laugh against the window. you turn your head to peep at him over your shoulder.
“you know?” you start off teasingly. “your service is so good. think I’m gonna need regular maintenance.”
Jungkook chuckles. “yeah? you think so?”
“hmm. gonna need it every single night.” you mumble.
Jungkook groans and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder before pulling out. for a second, he watches your combined releases dripping down your thigh before turning you around to face him. he pecks your lips, and then reaches for your discarded sundress.
“gotta give my girl what she wants.” he helps you slip the dress on. once its on, he pecks your lips again. “come on. let’s get going. we’re gonna need a nice long shower when we get home.”
you hum tiredly, watching as he pulls his pants up. “we can fuck in the shower too.” you mumble with a giggle.
Jungkook grins, finding himself extremely fond of the idea. “yeah, baby. we can.”
hii pumkins !! i lowkey had a mini panic attack while writing this + i was extremely stressed about some other things, so apologies if its kinda weird¿
OHH and pls note — y/n did NAWT get any grease or motor oil in her coochie
life was supposed to go forward the way you had always been told.
find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids.
that was the formula - the routine of every day life that you, yourself, had agreed to. it was supposed to be easy and carefree, the type of love that felt natural and yet definite. it was supposed to be certain.
jeon jungkook.
the love of your life. no one, nothing, could compare to him; the one constant in your life since you were no older than five. two years older than you, he had been the object of your infatuations even then, and though you both harboured a crush on one another as you grew up, it was only when you were 14 that you both actually pursued something.
you both came from broken homes, with your parents entangled in the world of drugs and abuse, his absent more times than present. you had each other though, and that was all either of you had ever really needed - that much had been true for years. it didn’t take long to fall in love with him, not when he treated you like blooming flowers in the first touch of spring; you were more than just his girl. you were his y/n.
no one blinked when he proposed, everyone half expecting it, and neither of you had wanted to wait to plan a lavish wedding when you were both the only constants in each other’s lives. and so, with cheap rings, a random dress you had found at the bottom of your wardrobe and his scuffed shoes - you had become husband and wife.
jungkook was the best partner you could have ever asked for. money was tight in the beginning as he threw himself into his job, making sure he had enough to spoil you rotten even if that meant coming home exhausted. it killed you to see him working so hard, but he never complained, not even once. it was done in the pursuit of his sweet wife, and therefore just.
he quickly began climbing the ranks, his intelligence unmatched, his speed and efficiency making him a force to be reckoned with. in a mere seven years, he had managed to go from the lowest ranking worker in the company right to head office, before formally being announced as ceo.
it was unheard of. people like him, people like you, they didn’t live like this. it felt like over night your entire life had changed, as the tiny, one bed apartment transformed into a penthouse suite in your city’s most reputable area, your beaten down car now more lavish than you could ever dream of. your clothes - silks, linens and luxurious patterns. you were a changed woman, all at the hands of your husband.
that was when the cracks had began to form.
the late nights began, jungkook holed up in his office for far longer than anyone else at the company, stacks of paper all around as he tried to crack numbers before the next day could bring its own workload. you didn’t mind at first, more so worried over anything else.
you packed late dinners, going up to his office and eating them with him just to keep him company, to ground him which he needed more than you could ever realise. he would sit you on his lap as he worked, all whilst you napped peacefully on his shoulder as though this was perfectly normal.
the first few months, it worked. after that, it could no longer hide the gaping hole that had begun to appear.
missed dinners. missed dates. jungkook showing up at two in the morning despite everyone else going home at five in the afternoon - this wasn’t normal. wasn’t healthy. the amount of arguments that were being caused due to his workaholic nature was alarming, especially considering neither of you had ever even raised your voices to one another prior to this.
your heart was getting heavier and heavier.
not because you doubted his love for you - that wasn’t even a question in your mind, that much was certain. if anything, jungkook loved you too much, entirely and wholly, with every single decision made in his life somehow tracing back to you in one way or another. whether it was purchasing things, buying them with the intent of impressing you, making you happy or smile. every opportunity, every signed contract, every bastard fucking meeting that he could feel so deeply in his bones was done with the intention of giving you a life so soft you would never experience hardship again.
that was where the problem lay.
jungkook didn’t know how to love in a way that could nurture your relationship through this, and so, he did the only thing he could. he sacrificed.
slowly, painfully, the realisation that somewhere between the neglect, the late nights and unanswered phone calls, your husband had stopped being your husband at all. he had become a mere ghost in your shared home.
the night you had made your decision was one that felt imprinted in your memory.
it was past midnight, the harsh light of your phone reminding you with each passing moment. the rain was harsh too, with it being the middle of autumn, causing you to curl deeper into the covers on your bed but it did nothing to chase the cold away. dinner had long gone cold downstairs, with your housekeeper giving you a long, sad look before leaving to her own home, patting you on the shoulder in comfort.
your heart hurt so fucking much.
your phone was untouched, with messages sent hours prior despite the lack of response.
‘where are you?’
‘are you coming home tonight?’
‘jungkook, you promised.’
‘i miss you.’
you felt pathetic. humiliation ran up and down your veins at the thought of having to beg for a morsel of attention from your husband, but what else were you supposed to do? what else could you do? loneliness had a tendency to do that to people.
the sound of the front door finally opening had your eyes looking up, no longer staring into space, thinking. overthinking.
jungkook finally stumbled in, hours and hours late, shoulders tense and black coat half wet due to the rain outside. his phone had died hours ago, and his brain was a jumble of numbers and stakeholders, still muttering under his breath over something one of his colleagues had said. he was exhaustion personified.
“baby.” he exhaled deeply upon the sight of you still up.
1:47am.
you stared at him, unable to focus on anything in particular as your reddened eyes somehow glinted in the moonlit essence of the room. his heart ached.
“you missed it again.” you whispered, barely audible.
another dinner sat cold. jungkook had noticed it on his way up, muttering a small fuck under his breath, but seeing you now? something had changed, something was different and the sight scared him to death.
“i know, i..”
“you said you’d be home for six.”
“i know baby, i’m so sorry, we had an emergency shareholders meeting and it was just..fuck.”
“it’s always an emergency.” you muttered bitterly.
the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.
he carefully placed his things at the door before approaching you slowly, as though you were a wounded fawn struck by an arrow from his own back - it was his fault. he knew that, he could see it.
“i’m trying.” he whispered softly, as he crouched to meet your eyes.
that was the worst thing of all - of course he was trying. you knew he was, you could see it in every single thing he did but that was the part that made it so much more painful. it was unbearable.
tears burned harshly behind your eyes, lip openly trembling as you stared at the only man to have ever felt your affection, the love of your life. the same man that would set himself on fire just to keep you warm, who had done this all for you - even you knew that but, the pain. you weren’t sure when loving him had started to hurt this badly.
“i don’t need..i don’t want any of this, jungkook.” you corrected as your voice cracked, hands gesturing to the too large room. “don’t care about penthouses or cars, or money..”
“it’s not about that.”
“then what is it about?” you cried, months and months of neglect finally collapsing all at once. “because i’m losing you anyway.”
the devastation that appeared on his face would have floored you on any other occasion, but the horrible feeling that had taken over was consuming you from the inside out. you couldn’t rid yourself of your thoughts, the looming decision that had grown and grown and grown, so much so that it felt bigger than you in both mind and body. you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to.
“i feel so lonely.” you admitted honestly, a broken sob leaving your lips. “you’re all i have..all i’ve ever had and i feel lonely.”
the words physically wounded him as he felt his own tears begin to form, a horrible realisation fluttering through his body - this wasn’t fixable. he could see it now, the utter pain in your eyes, the way your body shook as you cried, and though he was crouched in front of you, arms wrapping around you; it wasn’t enough.
“i’ll fix this. i’ll fix this, fuck. y/n..” he shook, holding you so tightly, his heart beating out of his chest. “give me time. give me a chance. give me something, give me anything.”
you only cried harder at his words, collapsing entirely as the sobs racked through your body violently. you knew he meant it, knew he meant every single word, and you genuinely believed it too but you were tired.
so, so tired.
you knew that the love between you, no matter how deep, could not survive on patched up apologies and promises no longer.
the separation happened three weeks later.
perhaps that was too cruel of you - you should have given him more time, more chances, another opportunity to prove himself to you so he could actually begin repairing something that had already long collapsed before he had ever realised the damage. staying felt too painful, as though you were prodding delicate skin with a million sharpened blades. for once in your entire existence, you chose yourself.
you hated yourself for it.
you could no longer survive off of the memories of who your husband had once been, the once sweet teenage boy who slept on the streets with you just so you’d feel safe from the grasps of your parents. the man who had ran home to tell you about his promotion, who then sobbed in your arms at the mere prospect of getting to give you the life you deserved. oh, how each and every fibre of your being yearned for him, how it knew him by breath alone and yet it wasn’t enough. nothing could possibly hurt more.
packing your things nearly killed him. you remembered it vividly.
jungkook stood silently in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching numbly, as though his soul had left his entire body as you packed up remnants of a life once shared with him. cardboard boxes were filled with your books, your makeup, your silly trinkets you had acquired together - the sight of you crying as you packed your wedding album so delicately was enough to have him bite back his own sob, shaking his head at the reality of the situation.
he hadn’t stopped you. it was the worst part.
jungkook was intimidating to most; hardened by his life experiences and the struggle he had been raised in, his only priority for the past decade being you. you didn’t like to go into his work, knowing he was quite literally a different person there - efficient, yes, but also ruthless. and yet, he stood, watching you as though his eyes couldn’t comprehend the scene in front of him, tears wiped harshly from his face in fear that it would only upset you more.
even in moments like this, he put you first.
his hands sat caged on either side of him, as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. he wanted nothing more than to pick you up, cradle you, cherish you the way he so desperately wanted but in his love for you came your happiness. he was a man devoted to you, and he couldn’t cage you somewhere you no longer felt happy staying - he loved you too much to ever do that.
the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.
the media frenzy surrounding jeon jungkook, the elusive ceo who was known for his mysterious persona and dark eyes, was quite literally unbearable. the sudden separation exploded all over the tabloids and the internet, with headlines appearing faster than either of you could keep up with. the hate was too much, to which jungkook stepped in to silence everyone behind the scenes, throwing an insane amount of money at journalists to keep your name out of their filthy mouths. wife or not, you were one half of him and he’d be damned if you were spoken of in anyway that wasn’t praiseworthy.
you couldn’t even look at him during the hearings.
god, you tried. you wanted to, managing to sneak little glances where you caught him already staring at you, despair all over his face, but you couldn’t handle it, tears streaming out of your eyes almost immediately. he knew you loved him. he could see it, clear as day.
he looked sick, as though he hadn’t eaten for weeks, the mere sight of you enough to sustain him until the next meeting, where your feet lightly brushed against one another underneath the table in a subconscious way.
he barely spoke, only choosing to actually speak when he was asked a question, but other than that, he spent his time in the meetings staring at you longingly. he’d whisper a soft “don’t cry” whenever he’d see you tear up, your lip quivering each time you snuck a glance over, despite knowing it was breaking you.
he signed everything over to you immediately. his lawyers had practically choked, eyes wide as he silenced them almost harshly for even suggesting anything otherwise, your own eyebrows pulling together as you tried to reject. you didn’t want his money, you didn’t want what he had worked so hard for.
the penthouse, the cars, the accounts. every. fucking. thing.
“jungkook..” you had whispered through tears at the table, addressing him for the first time in so long. “i don’t want any of this, it’s yours. you’ve worked so hard.”
hearing you was enough to provide the energy he had been lacking, the very blood in his bloodstream pumping harder as he shook his head at you, offended.
“i got those things for you. it never belonged to me..was always yours.” he whispered back, causing you to look down with another choked sob.
it was the final hearing that truly cemented the empty hole inside of you.
your hands shook violently, so much so that you were unable to pick up your pen and sign away your marriage, the one thing you needed to do to finally let him go. everyone in the room frowned as they watched you, face flooded with tears as your digits simply refused, as though your body rejected the notion as being entirely unnatural. they all felt pity for you, for both of you - you both were clearly in love, and they couldn’t understand the gravity of the situation between you.
jungkook had stood from his side of the table, walking over to you until his hand had softly encapsulated your own, your quiet sobs only growing harsher at the feel of the one person you had been craving for so long. he held it, guiding you to your own, helping you write your name on the dotted line despite every part of his body aching.
ex-husband.
the thought should have killed you.
once it was signed, he held onto your hand, too scared to let go as the documents were taken, your lawyers and his slowly leaving the room, leaving you be. you should have let go, should have pushed him away as he no longer had any tie to you - you weren’t married, you weren’t together. alas, the thought felt sacrilegious.
instead, he knelt, knees hitting the hardened floor below you as your red eyes met his properly. entirely.
“i’ll fix this.” he promised you, voice no longer shaking, as you could hear the depth of his promise to you. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby, but you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you better, i’ll be worthy. i promise you, y/n.” he whispered.
another sob climbed up your throat, mean and harsh, as your body collapsed against the chair you were sat in, your emotion taking a complete hold over you.
because even then, after everything, you knew his words to be true. you knew home would be waiting.
—
eight months had passed now, and soon came the first touch of summer. the bleak sky had become brighter, clouds hibernating and birds chirping as the world became warmer, accommodating for the transition into what most would describe as a joyous time. unfortunately for you, your body was still recovering from what could only be described as the most traumatic stage of your life thus far.
everything felt unnatural and wrong - you were trying to keep up despite it moving a million miles around you.
even after all this time, your stomach still dropped whenever you’d see anything that referred to him as your ex husband, as though your mind and heart needed a moment to catch up. how could jungkook ever simply become an ex anything to you?
he had existed in your life for so long that removing him felt akin to ripping a vital organ out of your body, all whilst expected to function entirely normally. how could you? you suppose you were failing, really, with the way you moved through life out of necessity instead of want.
the tabloids loved him now more than ever. it was the paradox of tragedy, you assumed, as you knew how badly the world yearned for a broken hearted lover.
the youngest ceo in the country’s history, a billionaire bachelor - the elusive businessman was on the top of every social hierarchy, whilst people spoke about you in hushed whispers. the only woman to have ever gotten away. who were you? why did you leave? why did he leave you with so much?
he had become so much colder after the divorce, and people picked up on it like rats with forgotten food.
the media had always labelled him as an intimidating man, but now, there was no way of denying it. there was something unsettling about the pictures that were being papped of him, your hungry eyes taking him in top to bottom, nibbling your lip - he looked so different. broad shoulders remained the same, but he seemed bigger, no doubt taking out his pain in the gym. it was the look in his eyes, however, that had your stomach in knots.
he looked dead whilst alive.
jeon jungkook was heartbroken, and the world knew it clear as day.
he had dealt with it the only way he knew how - by burying himself six feet deep into his work, knowing he had nothing to come home to, often times sleeping in his office just so he could ignore the silence of his house.
meanwhile, you had spent the last eight months trying to learn how to exist without him.
the humiliation at first was all you were reminded of, as you realised how deeply you had intertwined into him and vice versa. the silence in your once shared penthouse was so unbearable that you had moved into a tiny two bedroom apartment, using the spare as a storage unit for all of your books. on your nightstand still sat a picture of you both, as you secretly cried over it most nights. you couldn’t even sleep unless you wore one of his hoodies, despite his scent having washed off months ago - it was the comfort of knowing you still had a part of your marriage with you.
you missed him in every small, stupid, awful way imaginable.
the feeling of his hand, heavy and strong, on your thigh as he drove you around. the way he would cage you into any surface he could find just to smother you in kisses, or even the way he would whisper into your ear stupid jokes that had you giggling too loudly for the world to hear.
you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.
everyday you battled with the regret of your choice, especially once you’d see the way his under-eyes had sunken with the lack of sleep and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. you couldn’t live that way again, not with the neglect - not with your past trauma from your parents.
jungkook knew the gravity of his actions, knew you needed to heal and reason with them before he could come back to you but fuck, it hurt so bad to wait.
sometimes, during your weaker moments, you found yourself searching him into your phone in the dead of night, breathing out an audible sigh of relief at the confirmation he was still openly single. it was pathetic, that much you knew, but it was selfish beyond anything else. so cruel to want the man you left to be alone, simply because he still belonged to you.
you had attempted to rebuild your life slowly, carefully piecing together fragments of yourself that existed before all of this had happened. your days were quieter now, so much lonelier but it was enough to keep your mind from spiralling every second of every waking day.
some habits, however, refused to die.
his contact remained as the only favourited number in your phone, as you spent all of your time rereading old messages, despite it ending in tears. if only you knew he too did the same, with his photo album on his phone his most used app as he stared at you nightly, often falling asleep with your picture shining brightly on his screen.
you still loved him. he loved you even more.
that could never change.
-
the first flowers came on a random tuesday.
you had just experienced one of the worst days you’d had in a while, with a final meeting with one of your clients going to shit after you realised hours of work and designs had somehow corrupted, and then deleted. by the time you had returned home, you were sure the world had seen your teary state, your body heavier than usual.
as you searched your bag for your keys, your eyes peered up, noticing them.
your breath caught.
sitting neatly outside your apartment door. a bouquet, large but elegant - white gardenias. the flowers you had held at not only your wedding, but the ones jungkook would buy you for your anniversary each year.
your flowers.
your chest ached so violently you found yourself gasping for air as your legs gave out below you. you slid down the wall, fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you looked for a note, only to realise there wasn’t one. you didn’t need to see who they were from, only one person knew you well enough and your heart felt like it had been split into two as you took them in.
it wasn’t your anniversary, wasn’t any special kind of occasion, and yet here they were. bright, promising, sweet.
your vision blurred with heavy tears as the painful feeling in your body grew, throat tightening with emotion before reaching out and taking a hold of them, breathing the flowers in openly.
the scent alone was enough to destroy you.
he was everywhere, all of the time - even now. especially now.
the flowers had become a norm, a pattern that was only recognisable to you, and completely deniable to any other person looking in. you were smarter than you looked and you knew what was happening, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out.
your favourite restaurant somehow managing to accommodate you always despite the line or packed out reservations list, or the paparazzi that often bullied you for your attention outside of your home mysteriously disappearing. even your car, that you had dented slightly, appeared in perfect condition as you walked down to go to work one morning, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
your chest bloomed with realisation.
jungkook.
he never appeared himself, no. never. it was unsettling really, the reminder that he was powerful and could have things done with a flick of his wrist - he was sure to never make you privy to it, so you’d always feel like he was the same boy you had met all those years ago. now? he had every intention of showing you the empire he had built for you and you alone. he lingered around you and your life like a floating ghost, invisible but permanent. you truly couldn’t get rid of him even if you tried.
three weeks later is when you felt yourself reaching breaking point.
for the first time in months, you were finally leaving the house to actually do something for fun. your best friend, yejin, who’s husband yoongi was ironically jungkook’s best friend, had forced you to come out for a drink. nothing intense, merely a nice bar where the drinks were smooth and the company was good, with slow jazz playing in the back.
exhaustion was heavy in your bones but you listened, doing your best to make yourself look nice despite how dead you felt inside. a little skirt that felt too short and a top that perhaps plunged too low - yejin had deemed you utterly perfect.
sat at the bar, you sipped your drink, wincing lightly as she yapped away about something her coworker had said. you appreciated how she refused to bring jungkook up, knowing that she couldn’t breach the topic unless you were the one to bring it up yourself. you hated how badly you wanted to, how desperate you were to find out how he was doing.
she filled the air constantly, like she was terrified of what would happen if your mind caught up to the reality of the situation, instead filling it with nonsense to occupy your demanding thoughts.
you let her.
you even found yourself laughing, the feeling and sound so startling that it reduced you to silence for a full minute afterwards as you welcomed the feeling of actual joy for the first time in so long.
you almost didn’t notice the shift in your phone, the slight light radiating from beneath as you had turned it onto its screen earlier in the evening. she, however, paused mid sentence, eyes dropping down to let you know someone was ringing.
nothing could have prepared you for the sight of his name on the screen.
the name, ‘kookie’ with a large, red heart adorned your phone as humiliation rummaged through you at the realisation you had never even bothered to change his name, the concept too painful to come to terms with. however, yejin all but gasped as she turned to you, eyes widened with an almost excitement.
“answer it.” she encouraged, hand on your back. “i’ll watch your drink.”
you weren’t sure what to say, as you nodded, staring down at the screen before shakily sliding off of your seat and heading towards the back entrance, where a smokers area sat empty. your hands shook as you cupped the phone to your chest, taking a seat before looking down at it once more.
he was calling you.
jungkook was fucking calling you.
before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.
the phone felt hot against your ear, a reminder of what was currently happening as your heart began beating harder than it had in months, your hands shaking. for a second, neither of you spoke.
you could hear faint movement on his end, a shuffling of some sorts before he completely stilled, as though he had pushed everything he was doing to a side at the realisation you had actually answered.
“hi.”
god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.
there he was - your jungkook. not the ceo extraordinaire that was plastered on every publication you could find, with dead eyes and a sharp expression. no, this was him. jungkook. your jungkook.
the sound alone nearly brought you to tears. you felt so pathetic.
“hi.” you whispered back, voice cracking.
silence settled again, but not awkwardly. you didn’t think an awkward silence was capable of existing between you, not when your bodies were so intertwined and so aware of one another. the distance between you was unnatural, neither of your minds able to comprehend an eight month hiatus enough to understand that this phone call alone shouldn’t have been happening.
he exhaled slowly, and your shoulders gently relaxed, your eyes closing momentarily as you imagined him. no doubt still at work, in a suit unbuttoned at the shirt, his tie long forgotten. his tattooed hand running through his hair, ruffling it the way you always would.
“you answered.” he broke you out of your thoughts.
your chest tightened painfully at the sheer disbelief in his tone.
“you called.”
a faint huff of amusement left him then, causing you to blink back any emotion that was building in your eyes. it eased you.
“yeah.” he breathed out.
another pause.
you felt so suddenly aware of yourself - your hand reached out to smooth down your hair, adjust your top and skirt, despite knowing he couldn’t see you. it was subconscious, as though the thought of him alone was enough to undo you, but his voice? hearing it after so long, directed at you, for you. yours. it was enough to have you soothed for months.
before you could spiral in your thoughts, he spoke again.
“where are you?”
“out with yejin.”
“mm.” you shivered at his hum. you had no idea he was so undone at the sound of you too. “a bar?”
“yeah.”
“you drinking?”
you rolled your eyes, tongue poking your cheek at his curiosity. some things truly had never changed.
“why?” you asked, and you could almost hear his grin on the other end. “can’t i ask?”
his tone, smooth. familiar. fuck, it did things to you, and you could feel your thighs pressing together just listening to him. secretly, your favourite part of jungkook was how possessive he had always been, and even in moments like this where he hid it under a layer of calmness, you could recognise it instantly.
it reminded you of when he’d ask you whether you had eaten, just before pulling you into his lap, lips attacking the side of your neck hungrily or when he’d tell you to take your medicine, with a slow ‘baby’ and kisses planted to your forehead and cheeks.
“one drink.” you revealed, with a nibble to your lip.
you had no idea that he too was a fucking mess.
jungkook was indeed in his office, with his legs spread, suit jacket and tie somewhere, his shirt unbuttoned a little as he too drank. a cup of whiskey in his hand, his hair a mess as he scoured over your instagram for the millionth time just that day. neither of you were ones to post much, especially considering your accounts were private with only a few people, but he stalked you daily in hopes of a glimpse of you. could you blame him? he was utterly, devotedly in love with you.
a measly divorce couldn’t stop that.
seeing yejin’s story, with your low cut top, and your big eyes showing a sign of life for the first time in months made his heart bloom. it had his cock straining, again, just looking at you, eyes hungrily looking over every inch of you and your soft smile. god, how he had missed it.
he had given you your time. respected your wishes, allowed you eight months of this but enough was enough. the flowers were just the beginning, marking his space back in your life through a promise he had every intention of upholding. he had told you directly he was going to fix this, and you, his sweet, sweet girl had believed him.
he would never let you down again.
“you having fun?”
“why do you wanna know every single detail?” you asked, tone a little harsher than intended but you couldn’t help yourself. this was an ambush on your senses.
he huffed once more, the amusement enough to disarm you.
“because i miss you.”
the words left him so easily that the breath in your lungs completely dissipated, leaving you a statued mess. no hesitation, no shame - pure, devastating honesty.
“you can’t say that, jungkook.” you weakly combatted, the intake of breath on his side of the phone at the sound of his name leaving your mouth enough of an answer for you.
“why not? i can’t miss my wife?” he scoffed lightly at you.
you blubbered for a moment. “i-i am not..i’m not your wife!”
“okay.” he hummed once more.
there was a quiet clink on his end, no doubt picking his drink up and taking a big gulp after abandoning it the second you answered. neither of you spoke for a few more moments, silence now becoming a running theme between you on the call, and yet it was still void of the awkwardness you’d find anywhere else. it was awful how familiar it felt. how comfortable and safe.
your fingers played with the hem of your skirt nervously, unsure if you had been too brash - he was hurting too after all.
“is that top new?”
your breath caught.
“..what?”
jungkook stayed quiet for an extra beat. “your top. haven’t seen that one before.”
heat flooded your cheeks, chest and neck before you could even respond, your lips bitten down as you inhaled shakily.
“how do you know that?” you were ignoring the way your pulse was hammering against your body, trying to feign an air of nonchalance.
at that, he couldn’t help the small grin. “saw you on yejin’s story.” he murmured, quieter now. “look so good. love when you wear pink, baby.”
it wasn’t even the words he had chosen, but more so the way he was saying them. so calm, so certain, so casual as if he wasn’t calling his ex wife baby over a bit of cleavage that was never really meant for his eyes - your blush spreading all over you now.
“jungkook..” you breathed out, shakily.
“what?” he asked innocently, and you could really hear the smile in his voice now. “am i wrong?”
you looked down at your top, nibbling away at your lip to hide the small smile that was beginning to form on your own face, something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. your fingers brushed against your stomach, feeling the fabric before tucking a strand behind your hair.
“it’s new.” you admitted softly, heels shuffling slightly on the ground.
the sound he made in response was enough to ruin you. not a laugh, not quite a sigh - something pleased.
he hummed. “so pretty.”
your eyes squeezed shut, and jungkook could feel it. could see it as though you were right in front of him. you were never one to handle a compliment, always going pink and shyly looking away and god, he loved it so much. loved complimenting you in hopes that you would react just like that, just to see you get all flustered.
the feeling in your stomach..it felt so strange. the same one that had haunted you for the past eight months, an unbearable warmth that filled you from your toes to your head, something you craved so desperately from him and him alone. to be noticed, looked at, admired by jungkook was one thing but to be loved by him? it was joy in itself.
you could feel it.
no one had ever loved you quite like he had done, as though every single thing you were capable of was worthy of applause. it terrified you.
“you can’t do this.” your voice came out so much smaller than either of you had expected, changing the entire feel of the call instantly.
as a result, his own tone softened, as though he was dealing with something porcelain.
“do what, baby?”
your heart physically ached.
“talk to me..like nothing happened.”
you felt sick to your stomach, hands gripping your phone and stomach as your eyes shut tight. you wished you hadn’t of said anything, not with the way the silence kissed the air in a way that felt anything but familiar - it hurt. painful in every single way.
for the first time since answering the phone, you could see jungkook properly. could hear him breathing sharply as though your words were both a reminder and an understanding that no matter what, things could never go back to what they once were.
the slight twitch in his cheek, the way his fingers would naturally tighten whenever he was overwhelmed with emotion like he didn’t know where to put it, where to place it in his overworking mind. he had always loved so deeply, your jungkook; just didn’t know where to put it, or how to show it.
when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. stripped bare for you, so you could feel him.
“i know what i did.” he admitted softly. “i know i fucked up, and that i failed you as a husband.”
your throat tightened.
outside, rainwater still lingered from earlier, a sickly humidity wrapped into every air particle around you. the scent of lingering cigarette smoke was heavy enough to ground you in that moment as you listened to jungkook speak words neither of you could truly handle hearing, despite how necessary they were. it just hurt so, so badly.
inside the bar, you could hear muffled laughter, people egging one another on for drinks as jazz boomed, your heart easing as you could hear yejin’s voice amongst the crowd, no doubt the life of the party there too.
“then why are you acting like this?” you pathetically asked, lip jutting out in a teary pout. he could almost hear it on you. “you’re talking to me like we’re still together.”
“you’re still mine, y/n.”
your breath hitched violently.
“jungkook-“
“no,” he remained calm, a stark difference between you and him. “you asked me a question, baby, so let me answer it properly.”
the nickname rolled off of his lips so naturally, instinctively, and you hated how easily your body curled closer, almost desperate to hear it whilst he stood in front of you. you had always been putty in his hands, so easily undone with a few pretty words but you’d held back for the past few months for the sake of your boundaries. hearing him so open, so honest - it was fucking you up all over again.
“i know we’re divorced,” he continued before you could interrupt him again. “i know..you’re not my wife anymore, and i know this is my fault. you left because of me and i’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”
his voice cracked by the end of his statement.
“but i won’t sit here and pretend like the last eight months have suddenly erased the past fifteen years of loving you.”
the words shattered you. your delicate, pathetic heart broke once more at his words at the confirmation of what you needed to hear so, so badly.
years of abandonment issues stemming from your parents and friends who had only ever toyed with you meant you had put your all into jungkook, who had only ever put every inch of himself back in - you were a partnership, a welcome duo that made sense to the both of you. watching him pull back, forget you, neglect and abandon your relationship no matter the reason was enough to trigger you in ways that no one could reason with.
it was an intimate form of violence that though was never intended, hurt more than anything he could have ever done to you.
he knew that. he was openly telling you he recognised his faults, his wrong doings - you knew that too. god, you knew him better than anyone alive, and you knew that by leaving him it was the only way for him to understand and see.
“you’re making this so much harder, jungkook.” you whispered out through a flood of tears, your mascara and eyeliner smudging immediately under the slaughter of liquid.
“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry baby but i need you to hear me, okay? just..i need you to know i’m going to fix this. properly.” he breathed out, desperate now. “i’ve been doing things right this time..gave you space, let you breathe, been working on myself and going to therapy. don’t sleep at the office anymore, did at the start cause i didn’t like coming home but i’m better now.”
therapy?
you knew he held so much trauma with his own parents, his own upbringing, too scared to ever even speak about it if it wasn’t with you but to hear he had actually taken the steps to go forwards with something that put him directly out of his comfort zone was insanity to you. especially when his one and only concern had only ever been your own comfort, even at his expense.
his honesty made you burst out into quiet sobs - a noise he swore was harsh enough to kill him. he breathed out, cooing at you lightly as he shook his head despite you unable to see him, so pained.
jungkook recognised your pain immediately.
“yeah,” he muttered. “turns out working yourself to death because you’re afraid of losing everything after you’ve had a shitty upbringing actually isn’t normal behaviour. who knew?”
despite your heartbroken state, you let out a sincere watery laugh.
the sound hit him like a drug.
he went completely silent after hearing it, replaying it in the forefront of his mind. a greedy, gluttonous side of him climbing out of his very throat as he held it close to his soul, cherishing it - he was a starved man finally being fed.
“there she is.” he breathed. “fuck..missed hearing your laugh.”
you hated how easily you were able to slip back into him.
“jungkook..”
“i mean it,” his tone deepened slightly - more certain, more intentional. “i’m not calling you tonight to confuse you, y/n. i’m not calling because i’m lonely..”
your fingers tightened around the phone once more. “then, why?”
“because i’m getting you back.”
there was no hesitation in his voice, no wariness nor anything other than sheer determination. he sounded firm and a part of that thrilled you, whilst the other half sat scared of what this meant - you couldn’t survive this again, losing him. what if you had changed? what if you weren’t who he thought you were anymore?
“hey, stop it.” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “it’s just me, y/n. it’s just me and you, okay?”
“but what if we can’t do it?” you asked through a teary sob, scuffing your heels on the hard ground. “what if i’m different and what if it’s too hard? i can’t..i won’t survive it..”
silence once more.
“then, we do it slowly.” he whispered, assured, soothing you. no hesitation whatsoever. “i’m not asking you to trust me overnight, baby. i know i fucked that up already.”
your lip trembled, tears streaming so fast you could hardly keep up.
“but i’m here now.”
the words settled so deeply inside of you that it almost hurt. that was all you had wanted all along, was it not? a present husband, the same man that loved you without the frills of money and presents - you wanted jungkook. your jungkook.
you swallowed thickly, knowing it had taken so much of him to even say this to you, so confident as he knew you needed a rock at this moment despite also being emotionally devastated.
two whole minutes of silence stretched between you as you caught your breath, your tears still streaming but your sobs subsiding, allowing for sweet hiccups that he thought were the cutest thing he had ever heard. his mind swam, aching, knowing how needy you were after a cry. he wanted to bundle you up and hold you, kiss you until there were no more thoughts left in that pretty little head of yours, right until you were finally asleep and safe in his arms.
“are you still at work?” you asked softly, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts.
a small pause.
then, almost amused - “technically..”
“jungkook! it’s late..”
he laughed quietly under his breath, the sound warm enough to blanket you in it.
“finished hours ago, i’ve just been sat here.”
“doing what?”
another pause. slightly charged.
“looking at you.” he murmured.
heat rushed to your face immediately, wiping your under eyes. “what?”
“been stalking your instagram. yejin posted you like half an hour ago too, so..” his voice dropped lower, smoother. more intimate. “haven’t really thought about doing anything since.”
your thighs pushed together involuntarily at the confession, cheeks hinted even darker.
god.
“jungkook.” you chastised with a little sniffle.
“pink was a bad choice, baby.” he grunted slightly. “you know that colour drives me fucking insane on you.”
your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.
not the cold, mysterious ceo that had the world intrigued, nor the tall, hefty man that had most people cowering away as he walked past. no, this was your husband - flirty, affectionate and completely and utterly obsessed with you.
“you’re so ridiculous.” you shook your head through a hiccup, biting back the pathetic small smile that was about to form.
“yeah?” he hummed through a small laugh. “still answered the phone.”
the smile in his voice only had yours growing larger, a small laugh muffled by the back of your hand.
you could hear him moving around now, keys jingling lightly before the sound of a car door opening had your ears peaking up.
“wait,” your eyebrows raised. “are you leaving?”
“mhm.”
“where are you going?”
jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.
“home.”
your smile dropped slightly. home.. that used to be a word that was synonymous with you. your chest ached all over again.
“couldn’t go back there without hearing your voice first.” he admitted quietly.
silence swallowed you whole. the vulnerability in his voice felt far more dangerous than any of the tears you had shed tonight, your fingers continuing to shake around the phone at the mere sound of it. before you could think of a response, he spoke again.
“there’s a gala next friday.”
your stomach tightened as you leaned your head against the wall, already understanding the direction of the conversation.
“jungkook..”
“come with me.”
no hesitation. no uncertainty.
firm, assured, confident. like there had never even been another concept, or thought in his brain - you were the first and only option.
“i don’t think that’s a good idea..”
“probably not.”
the honesty startled a laugh out of you - a real one. on the other side of the phone, jungkook sat in his car, eyes closed, breathing deeply at the sweet sound like he was memorising it. treasuring it so he could replay it over and over and over later when he laid in your once shared bed alone.
“fuck,” he breathed. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed that.”
your eyes burned once more.
“baby,” his tone gentled again, using the pet name you loved so much. “just one night. me and you.”
you wanted to scream, wanted to pull at your hair and jump all at the same time. of course you wanted to say yes, what more could you need? your ex husband so openly telling you he wanted to pursue you with every inch of his body, until he was nothing but yours to mould and shape.
“i’ll think about it.” you replied instead, nibbling away at your lip.
the grin in his voice was immediate.
“that’s my girl.”
—
you couldn’t breathe.
both physically and emotionally, you found difficulty in inhaling air as you looked at yourself in the mirror, yejin somewhere in the room finding accessories for you to wear all whilst you blinked rapidly.
the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.
your hands shook on either side of you as she approached you, holding up a delicate diamond necklace you recognised as an anniversary gift jungkook had gotten you but never quite found the chance to wear. your eyes were unfocused as she clasped it onto your neck, watching the way it fell so softly against soft skin, as though it had been curated for you and you alone.
“you need to breathe, y/n.” she suddenly murmured behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both stared at you in the mirror.
pale pink satin - not bright in anyway, but a sweet kiss of your favourite colour adorned your body in floor length, tight fitting dress. you were the embodiment of elegance as the fabric draped over your curves, all whilst cinching perfectly at your waist, allowing for a pretty silhouette. not only did you look the part for a charity gala, you had exceeded any expectation anyone would ever have for you thanks to your best friend’s styling.
“dress is tight.” you simply whispered back, hardly recognising yourself.
your makeup matched your dress. glowy and pink with soft blush dusted onto your cheeks, glossy lips puckered and sweet. your hair fell in waves and for the first time in a very long time, you felt utterly beautiful.
the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.
you were about to see jungkook for the first time since you had officially walked away from your marriage and the thought had kept you up all week. you weren’t sure what you were thinking actually saying yes to his invitation, calling him to tell you would come only for him to audibly huff out of joy. he was like a child in a candy shop but you couldn’t help but wonder if he harboured the same anxiety.
it was heavy in your stomach as you stared at yourself. pink was your favourite colour, and he loved it on you. did you look pretty enough? all eyes would be on you both tonight, given the nature of your relationship and the almost celebrity like status that had been awarded to the two of you.
all in all, it was his face that had you nibbling your bottom lip in thought. there wasn’t a night where you left his name unsearched in your internet browser, desperate to see what he looked like in that current moment but seeing him in purpose was a whole different playing field.
you loved him in suits - a fitting joy that was awarded to you constantly given his occupation. the way his shoulders would fill out the material so nicely, the way his shirt would stretch over his chest and the way darker colours only brought out the darkness in his eyes - it was your personal kryptonite. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to think, behave even, once you caught got sight of him.
“hey, y/n, look at me.” yejin pulled you out of your thoughts, soft hands pulling at your jaw. “it’s just jungkook. you know him better than anyone, okay? you’re all good.”
you nodded, though you continued to blink at her rapidly. “s’just been so long and..i don’t know..i’m scared. is that weird?”
she offered a sad smile. “it’s been eight months of healing, babe. that love doesn’t just go away and from what you told me, this is a step in the right direction. just gotta let him in.”
before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell blared through the apartment, making you look up to where the door sat on the other side. if you thought your heart had been beating fast before, you were sure you were on the edge of passing out now as yejin mumbled a quick ‘that’ll be him’ beside you.
oh god. oh god. oh god.
the dress felt too tight around your ribs.
your hands smoothed down the satin again despite having done it what felt like a million times already, fingers tips trembling over expensive fabric as your breathing came out shallow. you hated this - hated the fear of it all when it was jungkook on the other side of the door. your jungkook.
eight months. eight whole months and your body still knew him better than your mind was ready to let on.
“y/n.” yejin practically cooed at you, assuring you with a hand on your back. “breathe.”
you nodded quickly, though it went in one ear and out the other.
the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.
ironically, it was this that had your shoulders slumping softly, your shortness of breath slowly soothing as you realised the familiarity of the situation. of course jungkook would buzz twice - it was a telltale sign of his own anxiety, something you could recognise from a mile away. knocking twice, calling your name twice, checking the front door before bed twice.
it was just jungkook.
“okay.” you whispered to yourself.
you turned, more determined now you knew he was in the same state as you, as your heels clicked on the floor of your much smaller apartment, the noise loud enough for him to hear from the outside. each step felt heavier the closer you got, but there sat an anticipation in you that had you almost desperate to see him.
your hand finally wrapped around the handle before you opened the door.
and there he was.
god.
for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.
jungkook stood in your hallway beneath the almost dingy apartment lighting, one hand wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers you recognised to be the ones he had been gifting you with continuously for the past few weeks, and every anniversary. white gardenias.
your eyes fell onto them immediately with a strangled gasp, all whilst taking him in, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt almost faint at the sight of him.
a black suit.
the material stretched perfectly across his too broad shoulders and narrow waist, expensive to the eye as you could tell it had been tailored to fit him exactly. the contrast between the white shirt underneath was utterly delicious, and memories of pulling open buttons under heated exchanges flooded your eyes.
his hair was styled almost messily which you immediately recognised as his hands having ran through them, no doubt due to his anxiety - you wanted to pull at his locks, wanted to feel them against your fingers.
it was his face, however, that hurt to look at.
he looked healthier than most of the pictures you had seen over the span of the past few months, with warm in his cheeks, a slight dazed look in his eyes. still tired, with purple underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, still carrying traces of heartbreak you knew you had placed there.
god.
jungkook looked every bit of the man you were in love with.
and here he stood, staring at you like he had just seen heaven open up right in front of him.
neither of you could look away from one another, as his eyes dragged over you slowly, inch by inch. your hair, your neckline that dipped lower than he was used to seeing, your manicure, your beautiful face. jungkook couldn’t fathom that you had once belonged to him, the pain of the past eight months surfacing as it gripped him by the throat like a vice - he had lost you?
you watched his throat bob.
his eyes met yours, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and neither of you really knew what to do. how was it that the man you had known most of your life, the one constant, felt like a stranger in that moment? it was like you were discovering him again, an opportunity to relearn him presented to you and you took it with both hands.
he let out a shaking breath, one that had your cheeks flushing as he extended his arm, presenting the large bouquet for you.
“you look beautiful.” he whispered, voice struggling almost as you continued to watch his adam’s apple almost entranced.
with a shy thank you, you held them close to your chest, breathing in the familiar scent that brought you so much comfort.
your chest had eased now you were finally looking at him, now that he was actually in your space - the worst was over. you almost felt ridiculous for being worried about seeing him when it was just jungkook. eight months couldn’t erase that familiarity.
the hallway suddenly felt too small. too warm, too intimate; you felt like you were being caved in by his mere presence and for a moment you wondered if you needed breath at all.
you simply stood there, clutching the flowers delicately to your chest as though they meant something so much more than what anyone else could assume all whilst jungkook looked at you like you were the first beautiful thing he had seen in months.
his eyes couldn’t leave your face.
it should have made you uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare, but your body reacted the way it had always done when you were near him. you were inching closer without even realising it, him doing the same until you were looking up, head angled and his downwards, head bent to admire you properly.
“hi.” you whispered again.
the size difference between you had never been more apparent until then, what with all of his strenuous visits to the gym these past few months. he had always towered over you, but it was different now - his already wide chest and broad shoulders engulfed you, his biceps on either side of him enough to have you wanting him in a way that certainly was not becoming of an ex wife.
it’s like he could read your thoughts, with the way he inched closer to you, until your bodies were openly brushing against each other faintly. material on material, fabric kissing fabric. you wished you could feel him on your skin.
the sound of your voice had lulled him gently as he dipped his head down lower so you could properly see him, despite your head back to look at him.
“hi, baby.”
your stomach flipped violently.
there it was again. baby. fuck.
as though the divorce papers were fickle, representing a momentary lapse of judgement instead of a ruling decision. like he still woke up beside you every morning and ruined your cheeks with kisses before falling in between your thighs.
the dazed look on your face didn’t go unnoticed.
before you could even respond, yejin appeared behind you with the biggest smile she could possibly muster.
“oh my god,” she squeaked dramatically. “you both look insane!”
jungkook blinked, momentarily pulled from the emotional spiral you were both taking part in as he straightened slightly, despite still being awfully close to you. your cheeks heated at the sound of her voice, jumping a little in shock, causing you to brush against him faintly.
“hi, yejin.”
“don’t hi yejin me.” she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “if she cries tonight, i’ll kill you.”
“yejin!” you flushed red.
jungkook, however, allowed for a soft smile, nodding once. “fair.”
the sheer sincerity of it made the room go quiet, your eyes meeting his once more. you knew though it was a passing comment, he truly meant it - he’d let her kill him if it meant you’d hurt less.
your chest tightened all over again.
yejin seemed to realise it too, her teasing expression softening at the both of you. idiots in love, both too cautious to know what the correct next step was - thank god she loved to meddle.
“okay! you’re both gonna be late so hurry up.” she hummed, turning you and looking over you for any last minute touch ups. “i’ll take these. i’ll show myself out.”
with a cheeky wink, she all but pushed you backwards towards jungkook where your back gently brushed against his front. she had taken the flowers, shoved your clutch in your hand and shut the door in your face, all after giving you a big grin.
he didn’t move from behind you, despite you turning to properly face him. the two of you stared at one another openly, eyebrows pulling together - you could see it happening in real time, the way his body curled at the mere feel of you. to be so close to you, touching you; it was out of a far away dream.
you felt it too - god, you could feel it in your veins. the horrifying wave of unashamed want that filtered through you so naturally, your body knew him. your body recognised your husband.
your man.
his restraint was palpable. you could see it in the way his fingers flexed on either side of him, almost twitching as muscle memory surfaced from deep inside of him. for years touching you had been second nature, with a hand on your waist, fingers lifting your chin, arms around your figure to hold you up for a kiss.
now he looked almost tortured as he realised he no longer knew what he was allowed to do.
the realisation alone softened you.
“we should go.” you whispered up at him gently, though your voice lacked any real conviction.
jungkook stared at you, offering a small nod almost obediently despite the stark hunger in his eyes.
“yeah.” he cleared his throat. “yeah, okay.”
he stepped back and first; the distance was felt immediately.
you suddenly missed the warmth that radiated off of him, fingers faintly tugging on his suit jacket so gently you weren’t even aware you were doing it. what the fuck was wrong with you? one touch and you were already spiralling into him again like the last eight months had never happened.
jungkook noticed. of course he did.
his chest visibly expanded from beneath the expensive material, eyes darkening so suddenly you felt heat up and down your spine. the way he looked at you had emotion swirling in your stomach, so hungry. so devoted.
you slowly released him, blinking rapidly as though you’d only just realised what you’d done.
“sorry.” you whispered instinctively.
jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in offence.
“don’t apologise for touching me.” his voice came out firmer than expected, low. far too intimate given the apartment hallway you were in.
the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on, neither of you making an effort to move despite knowing you were bordering on being late. the tension was so unbearable now that you were both alone, freely staring at one another after so much time apart - no yejin to soften the edges. just fifteen years worth of tension, want and need all accumulated between you.
his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.
“your heels are insane.” he muttered softly.
you blinked. “hm?”
“you’re already wobbling.”
offended, your mouth gaped. “i am not wobbling!”
jungkook let out a small huff of amusement, loving how easy it was to rile you up. the sound completely disarmed you, seeing a glimpse of the same jungkook you had been with all of your life.
“you almost fell walking out of the door.” he teased, with a tilt to his head downwards at you.
“i did not!” you shook your head with a small swat to his chest. he only let out another laugh. “you literally grabbed onto me.”
“that..doesn’t count, okay?”
“mm.” amusement stretched over his face, as he led you to the staircase, cautious to be slow as he watched you continue to slightly wobble due to the uneven surface of the hallway. “sure.”
before you could even think of a rebuttal, you watched jungkook look down the multiple staircases with a slight frown before turning to you. he suddenly bent at the knees, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for no longer than two seconds before one arm slid below your knees and the other around your back.
your gasp echoed.
“jungkook!”
he lifted you bridal style effortlessly, as though you weighed truly nothing to him.
your hands immediately flung to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders in shock as your body felt more of him than it had done in what felt like eons. jungkook’s hands were so much bigger than yours, and you could feel him everywhere all at once, enough to have you dizzy with a sense of want.
“what are you doing?!” you whispered harshly, eyes blown wide as he sorted you on one single arm, checking his phone for the time with the other. it was beyond easy.
jungkook merely looked down at you calmly, entirely unbothered despite the way you could feel his pulse hammering below your fingertips.
“preventative measures. can’t have you slipping down the stairs.”
you stared at him in disbelief. “you can’t just pick me up!”
he scoffed a little, as though your words were going in one ear and out the other. your comfort came first, that much was ingrained in him and even you couldn’t stop him when it came to that.
he walked down the stairs as though it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand spread wide against your back, claiming whilst the other was hooked under your thighs, making sure you were as comfortable as possible against him. your dress was draped so beautifully over his arm that anyone who would have caught you in that moment would have remarked, ironically, how bridal you looked.
you couldn’t believe how safe he felt.
jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.
“missed carrying you.” he admitted quietly as he descended another step.
your entire body burned. “jungkook.” you breathed weakly, though there was no real warning behind your tone.
“what?” he hummed innocently. “s’true.”
you remembered almost fondly - it was the one thing you probably missed more than anything else. he would carry you everywhere - from the bed to your bath, to the couch after you’d woken up, through grocery stores just to hear you squeak in embarrassment. one time he had held you for an hour straight, walking you home after a date just because your feet hurt.
and now, here you were again, tucked into his chest as though it was home. you supposed it was.
your heart ached so violently at the memory that looking up at him through your lashes had your brain whizzing too fast for you to keep up with.
“you’ve gotten so much bigger.” you whispered almost shyly before you could stop yourself, already tucked into him too comfortably.
big mistake.
his heart truly nearly fucking stopped. his head snapped down at you almost instantly, eyes darkening so visibly it had you avoiding any contact, instead focusing your gaze on his clothed pecs.
“yeah?” he asked slowly.
your cheeks were flushed dark, realising how that may have sounded.
“just..got broader.” you clarified through another whisper, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment.
“been working out a lot more.” he murmured down at you, ducking his head a little so that he could meet your eyes, a small smile forming.
you nibbled your lip with a little nod, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.
jungkook knew you loved the size difference between you, but it truly didn’t compare to how fucked it made his mind go. it was the first thing he had noticed when you opened the door again - how despite your heels, you were still so much shorter. it drove him insane, especially now that he was bigger. feeling you curled into his chest like this, all safe and protected, it made him feel wanted. to have you notice it, address it even so shyly; fuck. it ruined him.
by the time he had reached the bottom floor, your cheeks were still heated, dreading the fact he would have to let you go when all you wanted was to curl into him even deeper. to think ten minutes ago you had so much anxiety when now, he was actively conversing with you all whilst carrying you, it felt euphoric.
the driver stood outside of the car, the same man who drove you both to events when you were still together. your eyes widened a little as you watched him open the back door for you both, all whilst you were still leisurely held in his arms.
your embarrassment returned instantly.
“put me down!” you hissed quietly.
jungkook looked at you, unaffected. “why?”
“because your driver is literally staring at us, jungkook!”
the poor man looked away with a growing smile. he had missed seeing his boss so carefree, knowing that he was only like this when the situation pertained to you.
he smirked faintly. “he’s driven us around for years, baby. pretty sure he’s seen us do a lot worse.”
your mouth fell open, swatting his chest. “jungkook!”
that finally earned you a proper smile, brief but enough to knock the very air out of your lungs, your too large eyes drinking it in almost desperately. he was so handsome it hurt, and it wasn’t until now you realised how much you had missed his smile.
carefully, he gently lowered you to the ground, making sure you were comfortable on your feet.
his hands lingered. neither of you moved.
your faces were suddenly so close once more as your hands had slid down from his neck, but remained in contact, fingers digging into his chest faintly to feel him. the city noise faded around you and into the background as he looked down at you with an emotion that could only be classed as longing.
“you good?” he asked softly.
you nodded too quickly. “mhm.”
liar.
his eyes dropped to your lips once more, eyeing the gloss almost hungrily - would it taste like the strawberry you always applied? sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he’d remember the flavour.
then, like he had to physically pull himself back, he stepped closer to the car and gestured to it slowly.
“after you.”
you slid into the backseat first, smoothening your dress as it rode up your body, all whilst your pulse hammered harshly.
the interior of the car was sleek, donned in a luxurious black leather whilst it remained dimly lit in the back, with enough enough space to stretch out your legs. the scent of jungkook’s cologne was addicting, and you immediately recognised it to be the one you had bought him on your last anniversary together, your heart fluttering at the thought.
once he climbed in beside you, you realised how intimate the space actually was.
jungkook sat close enough for his thigh to brush against yours, broad shoulders taking up far too much room whilst the driver shut the door quietly behind him.
neither of you acknowledged the contact. it somehow made it worse.
it wasn’t until the divider between the front and the back began slowly sliding upwards, offering a layer of privacy that your breath caught audibly.
jungkook noticed - of course he fucking noticed. he couldn’t stop staring at you, especially now that he had you trapped here, pushed against him like you belonged with a drive ahead of you. god, the things he wanted to do to you in this dress were sinful at best, but he had to practise restraint, no matter how much it took out of him.
he leaned back, one arm sliding over to the top of your seat, where although he wasn’t touching you, you slyly leaned in just to have more of his warmth. it felt so familiar, so nauseatingly natural that anything other would have felt wrong.
he watched as your thighs pressed together.
fuck.
“you nervous?” he asked in his low voice, jaw ticking.
your eyes slowly shifted, finally meeting his gaze. through a shaky laugh, one without humour, you nodded. “obviously.”
he softened at that, sharpness melting away to reveal the tenderness below.
“it’s just me, y/n.”
you felt so hyperaware of everything. the rain that tapped softly against the tinted windows, and the gentle purr of the car engine beneath you. the feel of jungkook’s thigh soothed you, whilst his heavy gaze unnerved you - a cocktail mix that felt so entirely him.
you could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up. once you did, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare - not polite. certainly not subtle. his gaze moved over you, up and down, like he couldn’t help himself, like he he’d been trying to hold back the second you opened up the door to your apartment.
“fuck.” he muttered under his breath.
your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.
you watched his eyes flush down your body, eyes stuck on your cleavage and the way the material clung to your hips. “look at you.”
you instinctively looked down, shy at the attention but you couldn’t help but crave it. you knew exactly how obsessive jungkook was when it came to you, knew how deeply infatuated he was with every inch of you but seeing it so closely after so long almost felt soothing. it was a reminder that though everything had changed, somethings stayed the same.
his hand moved before you could think too hard about it, cupping under your chin and tilting your face upwards.
“don’t hide from me.”
your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.
this thumb brushed against your jaw once, so soft, so unbelieving that you were in his arms despite the fact you technically weren’t his anymore. not that he believed that.
“i can’t stop looking at you.” he admitted, tone rougher now. “been trying since you opened the door, but it’s impossible.”
your thighs pressed together immediately, his gaze dropping to the small action. the reaction was subtle, but there - he noticed everything when it came to you.
you suddenly felt so warm.
“you’re staring so hard.” you murmured nervously, fingers twisting together in your lap.
“because you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.
jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping backwards against his seat all whilst you watched with heavy breath. the far gone part of your mind wanted to track his neck, trace his adam’s apple with your fingers all so he could continue looking at you the way he had been.
he looked devastating like this - broad thighs spread in the backseat with your body pressed against him, his arm slung heavy on the head of your seat. the both of you were a mess for one another, sick in the head with infatuation.
you weren’t stupid. you knew your effect on him, perhaps not to the full extent, but enough to know that nearly a year’s distance between you was enough to drive a man like him insane. his hand dragged over his face with a quiet groan before adjusting himself slightly over his suit trousers.
your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.
jungkook smiled at the sound of your quiet giggle as you put a hand over your mouth to muffle it, looking up to meet his gaze after noticing he was half hard. all you had done was exist.
“yeah,” he murmured, the sound of your laugh blooming in his chest. “that’s your fault.”
you slapped his thigh gently, although you couldn’t hold back on the continuous giggles that were now leaving you as you felt lighter than you had in what felt like years. he too matched you, the intensity lightening up massively as he let out a quiet laugh despite himself.
“what’d you expect, hm?” he asked, voice soft. “i haven’t seen you in eight months, and now you’re sat next to me looking like this. wearing pink.”
his hand slowly slid over, brushing against your own, fingertips grazing your skin before he intertwined them, gently.
you let him.
the second you curled your hand into his yourself, his expression changed. up until now, it was him losing control, reigning himself in, biting himself down to make sure you were as comfortable as possible but fuck. you were the one touching him now, making sure he could see you intertwine your hands properly, squeezing his hand.
it felt like a confirmation that this was the beginning of a new chapter.
he wanted to scream, to yell on the top of his lungs at the thought of you openly showing him your willingness. his sweet, angel girl; he loved you more than words could describe and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing you.
“missed this,” he admitted quietly, eyes on your much smaller hand holding his so intimately. “missed you touching me.”
your eyes burned suddenly.
jungkook noticed immediately with a frown, expression softening at the edges.
“hey, baby.” his thumb brushed yours. “don’t cry.”
“m’not crying.” you whispered, though your voice wobbled embarrassingly.
he held you close to him as you both remained quiet for the rest of the journey, though the silence felt welcomed after such a rush and mix of emotions. you had gone from anxiety, to confusion, to excitement, to warmth, to a painful reminder of what once was - it was enough to drive you insane. being around him hurt, but being near him was healing.
rain continued to pitter patter outside as your hands remained intertwined, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he sat there trying to fathom how this was real. you were letting him in, and he could see it, could see how much it was taking out of you and he’d be damned if he fucked it up again. to get a second chance was insanity alone, but to have it with you?
the car began slowing down.
through the tinted windows, you could see a flash of white, people trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ceo they were so obsessed with. you gulped as you watched other powerful business people walk in with their dates, models and celebrities lining up to have their picture taken.
you leaned into him almost immediately.
jungkook held onto you tightly, arm sliding over your waist and gently squeezing. “i’m here. stay by me.”
you nodded quickly, dazed. “okay.”
his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long before he muttered under his breath, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “you look so fucking pretty.”
your heart nearly stopped, meeting his gaze as your shoulders slumped, feeling calm through his sweet words.
the car door opened.
chaos.
jungkook stepped out first and the reaction was everything you had expected and somehow so much more. your eyes blinked as you watched the cameras explode violently, reporters shouting his name from all directions as they desperately tried to get a clear shot of him, knowing he could easily make front page news without having to try.
your heart stopped for a moment.
his back faced everyone else as he turned to you, taking a hold of your hands once more and gently helping you out of the car, smoothening your dress.
the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.
genuine screaming was heard from somewhere behind the barricades as you slowly stepped out, your own hand finding jungkook’s for a sense of comfort which he readily gave you, pulling you in a little closer than necessary. the noise was erupting, your vision blinded momentarily by the insane flashes, reports actually tripping over one another to take pictures of you in particular.
this wasn’t normal.
jeon jungkook never brought women anywhere. never entertained rumours, never dated publicly, never stood beside any other woman that hadn’t been you. even then, you had been painfully private, making sure to attend closed events with rare appearances, often opting to support in the shadows as opposed to centre stage as he was forced to.
but now? this was the loudest statement you could have possibly made and it slowly dawned on you both the nature of the decision.
you were telling the world you were ready to start again.
his entire demeanour had changed out here.
you were overwhelmed to say the least, but it was his arms around you that kept you grounded as you clung to him, your smaller frame tucked so delicately within his own that some found themselves putting their cameras down just so they could observe you both.
you were the epitome of love and neither of you even knew it.
ceo jungkook - all cold eyes, sharp jaw, that terrifying calmness. yet every few seconds he ducked his head down, whispering something in your ear that would have you smiling almost shyly back up at him, easing your mind away from the hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to get a picture of you.
“jungkook over here!”
“is that your ex-wife?”
“are you two back together?!”
“y/n!”
you flinched slightly as the voices got louder the closer you walked down the carpet towards the venue, but it seemed jungkook’s presence only felt bigger.
“don’t look at them.” he whispered down into your ear, words tucked for you and you alone. “look at me.”
stupidly enough, you obeyed almost instantly. his eyes softened at the way you listened so sweetly.
“good girl.” he muttered absentmindedly before guiding you to the entrance and away from the prying eyes outside.
the words hit you far harder than they should have. good girl.
oh you were so fucked.
—
the venue was utterly breathtaking.
golden lighting spilled across towering ceilings whilst soft music played from a live orchestra at one side of the ballroom, so elegant you’re indeed whether you were even appropriately dressed. people stared at you openly, all whilst you and your flushed cheeks looked away, purposefully keeping your gaze vague and avoiding eye contact with most. glasses clinked together as powerful figures mingled amongst themselves, professional cameras still set up inside.
and yet, none of it compared to the way people reacted to jungkook.
conversations paused when he walked by, people straightening up. executives who had once terrified you now looked nervous approaching him and it reminded you exactly who he was outside of your relationship.
jeon jungkook was a terrifyingly cold, business man. he was untouchable and unfeeling, everything that made a powerful man powerful and then there was you. his one weakness.
his hand remained firm against the small of your back possessively, claiming you as his own in front of anyone who could see. you loved when he was like this, all brooding and dark as though anyone even had a chance to steal him from you - silly man. even now, with months of distance between you and a divorce, you were all his.
“breathe, baby.” he reminded with a quiet hum in your ear.
“i am breathing.” your cheeks warmed.
“barely.”
you shot him a look, though it was void of any real annoyance as he guided you further into the room. you couldn’t help but admire him openly, all whilst he scanned the room, not realising how deep you were falling into your own thoughts. he really had gotten so much bigger, with his chest so wide you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like under your hands. his shoulders too.
you had spent the entire drive trying not to stare at him. you had failed. miserably.
“drink?”
he pulled you out of your thoughts with a little gasp, realising you had been openly checking him out much to his pleasure. you found yourself nodding, nibbling away at your lip. “yes please.”
the words came out too fast, awarding you with a small laugh as he turned towards the bar.
your eyes followed him automatically.
that was another problem entirely. you see, no matter where jungkook stood, attention naturally followed. men greeted him immediately, keen to get into his good books whilst women openly stared, hoping to garner his fancy and yet he was completely and entirely uninterested. his gaze flickered back to you every few moments, as though he still couldn’t believe you were right there, just for him. just because he had asked you to come.
your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.
he returned only a few moments later with two champagne glasses, handing you yours to which you took with a nervous smile.
“thank you.”
your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.
oh, but how jungkook had noticed. he noticed everything when it came to you and judging from the way his throat bobbed, taking a large sip of his drink, you knew that your poor ex husband was certainly not able to handle your charm.
the champagne helped much quicker than you were expecting it to.
after the first glass, the tension in your shoulders completely eased but it was the second that had you transforming. your overthinking thoughts ceased to exist, as the warmth in your blood brought out a shade of pink in your face that jungkook couldn’t look away from. standing close to him suddenly felt less terrifying and so much more thrilling.
a dangerous combination - especially when jungkook was looking at you with so much hunger.
a buzz had settled deep into your bloodstream, your brain slightly away with the fairies as you continued to sip, looking up at him. your other hand darted out, fingers trailing over his stomach openly, over to where the buttons of his suit sat. what was an absentminded action to you, tipsy, was enough to have jungkook almost shaking.
you were braver when you had alcohol in you, that much had been true your entire relationship, but even this felt quite insane. he watched as your fingers trailed up and down, sliding up to where his chest was only to drop lower and lower. it wasn’t until your fingertips were brushing the top of his suit trousers that he grabbed your hand.
you pouted at him, head tilted. “why?”
your whine had his shoulders rolling.
“because,” he said slowly, voice rough beneath the sound of the orchestra. “you’re getting handsy.”
your lips patted in faux innocence. “am not.”
jungkook stared at you half in disbelief and other half amusement, still holding your hand that he now pressed to his chest firmly. your fingers had nearly slipped below his waistband, a thought that had him nearly taking you home then and there but he knew it was because the alcohol was making you brave - his tipsy girl. his palm engulfed yours, feeling your fingers wriggle underneath to continue your plans with a slight whine but he was both firm and possessive, not letting you go.
you pressed your thighs together again.
this was the champagne.
he knew it, knew it to be a dangerous mix - the alcohol and your naturally clingy personality once you got comfortable, all combined with the eight months apart meant you were now simply doing whatever your heart wanted with little care to your mind.
your cheeks warmed as you watched him stare down at you, gaze heavier than anything all evening. it seemed the longer you were both in each other’s presence, despite how long you’d spent apart, the more bold you were getting - but could you be blamed? he might have been your ex husband but he still belonged to you, and you knew you were still entirely his, a fucked up fact that meant you were both drawn to each other in ways that meant you could never move on.
multiple months of healing all gone to shit in a single night, with a few drinks. who were you both kidding - moving on wasn’t an option. even you could see that now.
your fingers flexed under his hold, people secretly watching you both interact with bated breath. they couldn’t believe this was the same jungkook they were afraid of, made to mush at the hands of the pretty woman in front of him. he was but a man afterall.
rather than pulling away, your fingers simply curled around the fabric of his suit jacket, fingers touching his shirt purposefully to elicit another reaction out of him. he had reduced you to putty in the drive over and perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but you wanted him to feel the same.
jungkook was quiet. too quiet.
jaw slightly slack as he took you in, you touching him like his body belonged to you and you alone. he relished in the fact you knew it just as well as he did.
he had missed this so much. just the feel of you, no matter how innocent you pretended to be, skin on skin. it felt like a promise.
and now, you were standing here, head tilted to stare up at him properly whilst looking through pretty lashes that batted at him subconsciously.
it was driving him insane.
“you’re staring again.” you hummed at him. his eyebrows narrowed. “because you keep touching me.”
you tried to bite down the smile that began to form on your lips as your fingers continued to flex, soon finding his heartbeat to confirm your suspicious. oh, he was a mess underneath your hand.
“you don’t seem to mind.”
his jaw flexed. you heard him curse under his breath, calling you a fucking minx which only had you giggling just as quietly. it was a powerful thing to have a man as influential as jungkook so weak in the knees for you, and you couldn’t deny the affect it was having on your mind. he snaked a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a way that was absolutely not becoming of the environment you were in.
“keep this shit up and i’ll take you home.” he promised quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.
unfortunately for him, you had no intention of stopping. especially when you had just begun.
“promise?” you whispered back, eyes wide with a faux innocence you knew he wanted to ruin.
his jaw clenched again, blood half boiling at how cheeky you were being and cock hardening by how badly he wanted to ruin you. had this been any other circumstance, you’d already be in the bathroom with your dress to your chest, being pounded into by the only man who knew exactly how to ruin you until you were well bred.
but alas - this night was about proving himself to you, and no matter how hard you made him, he knew he had to do this right.
and so, instead, he pinched you at your waist slightly, pulling an airless squeak out of you before he brushed his lips against your ear.
“behave.”
the word should have been warning enough, but instead, warmth fluttered through you, rushing through your stomach so violently you pressed against him further. jungkook nearly hissed, watching how reactive you were for him, with your hooded eyes and slack jaw.
fuck.
his hands were all over you, with little care to who was watching and you knew tomorrow you’d be mortified when you remembered how brazen you had both been, but it was hard not to feel addicted when you were both feeling the same way. you giggled lightly, hiding your face in his chest momentarily before meeting his gaze.
“you’re very confident for someone i divorced.” you playfully hummed.
at that, he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. “didn’t stop you from getting your pretty hands all over me.”
the alcohol was well into your system as you found yourself giggling once more, fully hiding yourself in his chest to which he wrapped his arms around you properly, the two of you whispering and laughing together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook’s colleagues, rivals and admirers all watched you both in genuine curiosity at the way you were so well suited. two people, quietly infatuated with one another - it was toothache inducing.
the conversation between you both remained playful, with his thumb tracing your bottom lip at one point muttering something about how badly he wanted to know how your lip gloss tasted. an hour in and you were both practically trying to one up each other with how far you could take it, leaving you both laughing whilst trying to stay quiet.
this is what you had missed. joy. comfort. being around him in a way that didn’t feel like you were fighting to prove something. it had been so long since you’d felt this carefree that you realised pretty quickly that you couldn’t let him ago again. it was a horrible thought at first, realising that the past few months may have been for naught but perhaps absence did make the heart fonder.
soon enough, you had been there close enough two hours and jungkook had done the rounds once you settled in, less tipsy but still buzzed. you met his new business partners, clients you hadn’t seen in a while, a mixture of familiar faces and people you had only ever heard about. neither of you commented on the fact he introduced you intimately, with a heavy arm around your waist.
it genuinely felt like no time had past with the way you both felt so comfortable, the dynamics between you natural considering he had been the one constant in your life for the past fifteen years. you sipped on your glass of water as you listened to his conversation half mindedly, watching him discuss a new company contract with one of his shareholders.
it wasn’t until you heard a voice echo throughout the ballroom announcing the beginning of the charity auction that the conversation came to an end. jungkook immediately took a hold of your hand, planting a cheeky kiss to your knuckles with a slight smirk, before leading you towards the front of the room where the different things on auction sat to be admired over.
“c’mon.”
you followed him easily, hands intertwined whilst you walked side by side, champagne now a dull buzz in your body. people moved around you respectfully, all whilst their eyes lingered on you much longer than needed. could you blame them? you were the infamous woman that had managed to lock down the one man that seemed disinterested in everything, so much so that you had him laughing and flushing pink every time you so much as looked at him. the divorced couple that looked anything but divorced.
oh, they were staring indeed, with hushed whispers and even quieter questions.
your attention drifted lazily over the displayed pieces, politely but nothing quite caught your interest, your eyebrows pulling up at some of the art pieces named. it wasn’t until you reached the very end that you found yourself stopped in your tracks.
jungkook noticed, he too coming to a stop to glance over at you only for his gaze to follow yours. he immediately understood.
beneath warm lighting sat a painting, inconspicuous to most considering it was much smaller than the grand pieces to the left, but it had your eyelashes fluttering
white gardenias.
your breath left you quietly.
it wasn’t just flowers - it was an oil painting, textured with strokes of green, ivory and creams whilst petals cascaded over one another so delicately your heart ached. the background dat moodier, darker compared to the softness of the flower leaving you in a state of utter awe for a few moments, all whilst holding the hand of your ex-husband who watched you with bated breath.
it was beautiful.
you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.
jungkook didn’t think he’d ever seen you look at something with this much wonder, in all of the years he had known you. it did something to him, to watch you genuinely in awe at something he could so easily give you - it made him realise he needed provide it for you just to see that look again and again and again and again and again.
he felt this throat tighten, a harsh lump forming the longer he watched you admire it. the way your glossy lips parted, eyes widened and fingers tracing the air in front of it - donned in the same diamond necklace he had gotten you years prior. the same necklace he’d bought you after you murmured something about diamonds resembling stars late one night as you curled into him in your shared bed.
and here you were, wearing it, all whilst your hand curled inside his as though you had never been more at peace. that did something to him. something he couldn’t quite describe.
your fingers moved to brush over the small description plaque underneath, reading the inspiration for the piece with a small, choked huff - devotion. enduring, eternal love through trial and tribulation through each season of life.
your own throat tightened then. of course.
“gardenias are difficult flowers..they die so easily if you don’t take care of them.” you found yourself whispering; straightening your back and avoiding his gaze to bite back any tears that wanted to appear.
his chest tightened violently.
all he could think about was the little apartment you had both shared when you were younger, when he barely had any money to get you by each month. the one with the poor lighting and the janky sink - you used to sit by the window each morning whilst he got ready for work, whispering sweet things down at them because you believed it would help them grow.
he remembered every single detail.
“you kept yours alive for months.” he whispered back, the hand that was clasped in yours now intertwining your fingers, as though he could project his memories back to you.
you blinked back at him, eyes glassy, surprised slightly. you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small and insignificant.
how could jungkook could ever forget a single thing about you?
a small smile pulled at your lips. “i used to get upset whenever they’d lose petals.”
“you cried once.” he corrected.
you rolled your eyes. “shut up!”
he only shrugged, lips twitching. “had to console you all night.”
“i thought i killed it!”
his quiet laugh nearly knocked the air from your lungs, all whilst he pulled you back into him, breathing in the scent from your hair before taking you to your shared table, where the auction was about to begin. your fingers remained curled around his own, all whilst he helped you sit down, fixing your dress for you.
he physically couldn’t pull away from you, couldn’t stop touching you even as you began conversing to the woman beside you, who jungkook recognised as one of his shareholders. his thigh was pressed against yours, all whilst his hand sat heavy in your lap, both of your hands playing with his fingers absentmindedly.
the different items came on stage as you watched people bid, raising their panels whilst some shouted out their numbers for more exclusive pieces. you couldn’t help your giggles, leaning over to whisper in jungkook’s ear whenever you’d see more excited people, all for him to lean into you with an equal smile. the two of you were being silly, and it felt fun for once.
by the time the gardenia painting finally appeared, your posture straightened as you tapped on his hand with a wiggle of your eyebrows. jungkook watched you with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over your face.
cute.
the bidding started much lower than you expected, causing you to frown. “that’s it?”
he nearly laughed, seeing your passion for your flowers. “art’s subjective, baby.”
“yeah, well everyone is wrong..so.”
fuck. he loved you so much.
you watched as someone raised their paddle, and then another, and another. a bidding war began as your head bounced between people, watching in utter curiosity though a part of you wondered what it would be like to bid yourself. ironically for you, you were completely unaware of the man beside you staring at your profile like he wanted to devote the rest of his life to you.
“two million.”
your eyebrows raised.
“two and a half!” someone else shouted, causing you to play with his fingers a little faster almost out of excitement.
“hope someone who actually appreciates it gets it.” you leaned over to whisper into his ear, lips brushing against his cheek in the process.
his jaw ticked.
game on.
just as someone shouted out, claiming three million, jungkook ran a hand through his hair before raising his panel, dark eyes trained on the auctioneer.
“five million.”
your head snapped sideways so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all whilst jungkook sat completely calm, hand raised lazily as though this was easy. like he hadn’t just dropped five million as though it was nothing.
“jungkook!” you whispered, eyes wide. he merely hummed back at you, hand still intertwined with yours. “hm?”
“what are you doing?!”
“getting you your painting.”
you stared at him in disbelief.
across the room, multiple people were openly whispering now, glancing between you because everyone could recognise what was exactly happening. this wasn’t ego - this was love.
obsessive, and terrifying love.
another bidder raised their paddle almost nervously, calling out a measly “five and a half” after a moment of hesitation.
“seven million.”
an audible murmur fluttered through the room just as you grabbed onto his arm with a large gasp, eyes widening as though he was batshit insane. “jungkook, stop!”
he finally looked at you, small smile playing on his lips at the sight of you so shocked. it was so cute the way you were practically toppling over your seat, a reminder that despite being with him, you had never really dabbled in his wealth whatsoever despite it all belonging to you.
a large shout of ‘sold’ was heard by all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. his eyes admired you, from your lips to your eyes, your shaking hands that were both clinging to his thigh, your cleavage that had dipped even further than earlier. fuck. you were the epitome of everything he had ever wanted.
“you wanted it.” he whispered to you, as though that was all he needed, as though it was enough of a reason to spend seven million in one night with a flick of his wrist.
your eyes near enough watered at his words, knowing that nothing had ever described jungkook better.
—
things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.
not enough to call yourselves fixed, or enough to place a label onto whatever fragile thing had formed between you, but enough that your days seemed lighter. having him back in your life meant you were happy again, and actually excited - finally feeling whole in ways that no one else quite understood.
he called more often now.
what started off as phone calls sometimes briefly between meetings, something about using your voice to destress before important gatherings. they quickly turned to late night facetimes where both of you laid in bed, half naked, chatting until either of you would fall asleep. some nights they turned into something darker, dirtier, with a slip of your night dress to show him more all whilst he’d grunt and hiss at the sight, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you.
it was beginning to feel domestic, familiar even. so terrifyingly easy.
you realised pretty quickly that somewhere along the way, between late night conversations and soft laughs exchanged, you had began falling deeply in love again.
hard.
he had been away on business ever since the gala a few weeks ago, with him currently stationed in hong kong over some important stakeholder meetings. you knew he was incredibly stressed over it, given the frequency of his calls - always at odd times during the day and night, sometimes with the intention of just looking at your face as though it was the only motivator he needed.
the time difference was more irritating than you had expected, and yet he still managed to find a way to accommodate to your schedule as opposed to his.
your favourite so far had been a simple picture of the skyline view from his hotel, taken at three am with a caption of ‘wish you were here.’
you hated how much those four words affected you.
pathetic, really. how even now, you’d kick your feet in excitement over any message sent from your ex husband.
it had become routine now, to expect messages from him with each waking moment, calls when the workload was heavier. perhaps that was exactly why the silence that afternoon felt so particularly loud.
you were curled into your couch, opting to work from home as you were in his jumper and a pair of flimsy shorts. you hummed quietly as you balanced your laptop on your thighs, all whilst a random entertainment news channel played in the back to offer some noise in your otherwise quiet apartment.
your ears perked up once you heard jungkook’s name somewhere in the background.
your attention barely lifted at first, no doubt another gossip sesh on how attractive he was which often made you giggle, but this felt different.
“ceo jeon jungkook spotted in hong kong alongside mystery woman-“
your stomach dropped.
the laptop slipped from your thighs and onto the couch cushion, all whilst your head snapped towards the television, reaching for the remote to turn it up. the image splashed across the screen, all whilst you sat there, smaller than anything, watching.
jungkook.
beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.
she was tall, elegant, dressed sharply in a suit practically created for her whilst cameras flashed at them harshly, exiting a building together. the headline underneath made your chest cave in further.
‘global heartthrob ceo finally moving on after the divorce?’
you stared. and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared until your knees had slowly slid to the ground, your back touching the couch whilst the entertainment show droned on and on about the details of your relationship with jungkook, about how smitten you had both seen at the gala, how they were the first to break this exclusive news.
your brain knew better. you knew jungkook like the back of your hand and logically, you fucking knew better. jungkook was so many things, but he had always placed you and your emotions first, your priorities, your necessities, your life - your wants and needs transcended everything else. you had never asked for it to be this way, it was just the way he was.
even during your separation, he had never looked at a woman twice. you knew that.
but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.
all you could think, all you could see, based off of a single image was how she fit beside him. how effortless it looked, how beautiful she was, how successful. so poised and polished - she was everything a woman who stood beside jungkook ought to have been and it was killing you in real time.
the worst thing of all was the realisation that he didn’t belong to you.
all of this emotion, this horrible feeling inside your chest and soul - you were the one to divorce him. you had been the one that demanded it end back then, no matter how much he had begged you to see reason, believing that it was the correct step forward for the both of you. he had every right to move onto someone else, had every right to actually step forward towards something new.
and yet the thought of him belonging to someone else felt the closest to grief you had ever felt in your life.
your phone rang violently loud beside you, droning out the words of the presenter and making you jump slightly.
jungkook.
your eyes burned instantly.
the phone continued to ring and ring across the sofa cushion as you stared at his contact picture, a photo taken on your anniversary a few years ago that you could never bring yourself to change. your chest rose unevenly as another harsh wave of emotion hit you.
you couldn’t do this.
not after you had spent the past few months trying not to think about him, only for him to come back into your life.
the call rang out.
then another came. and another. and another.
your phone was blowing up with a mixture of calls and messages, each vibration making your heart ache so much worse as the topic changed on the tv, talking about some other celebrity gossip all whilst you felt your entire life collapse before your very eyes.
with shaking hands and teary orbs, you turned your phone off.
you burst into tears.
the rest of the day was spent being utterly miserable. you had never felt so pathetic in all of your life, with pain running up and down your veins in a way that genuinely left you almost debilitated. the last time you were this heartbroken, you were a fresh divorcee.
the curtains remained shut despite the afternoon sun outside, your apartment dim besides the soft flicker of the television that continued playing mindlessly in the background. at some point, you had dragged yourself towards your bed with tears still streaming down your face, his oversized jumper now heavy on your frame.
you hated this version of yourself.
hated how deeply this had affected you despite knowing better. you knew him better than this, had enough trust in him and yet you couldn’t barter with what was directly in front of you - months after rebuilding a sense of confidence all for it to shatter over one measly, gossip channel.
you closed your eyes, images of the beautiful woman stood beside him flooding your mind causing you to open them up again with a quiet whimper. so composed and effortless. untouched by the devastation eating you alive.
by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.
you looked awful too.
your eyes were swollen, red with the continuous tears all night whilst your skin felt sunken and dull, the early morning sun hitting your skin from glimpses through your blinds. you forced yourself out of your bed and into your shower, trying to rid the plaguing thoughts out of your body. you failed, spending the majority of it quietly crying.
by the time you were in the living room again, your nose was just as pink as your eyes, hands shaky and body adorned in an old t-shirt you had secretly stolen from his wardrobe back when you were packing to leave. you curled weakly into the couch, blanket curled onto your legs as you begged your body to rid the horrible stomach ache that had now found home inside you.
your phone remained switched off, somewhere under the blanket, still left there from yesterday. you reached for the remote.
you just wanted mindless noise.
instead, the television flickered to life and you found your breath catching harshly for the umpteenth time within 24 hours.
breaking news banners on every channel you came across.
jeon jungkook.
a whimper pulled up out of your throat at the sight of his images everywhere, your fingers tightening around the blanket before you turned the volume up.
“the ceo has officially filed legal proceedings against multiple media outlets this morning following yesterday’s false dating allegations-“
your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.
another clip appeared instantly, reporters practically tripping over one another in front of jungkook’s main company building, cameras flashing in hopes of getting a picture of anyone who could answer for anything.
“the statement released by jeon jungkook’s legal team less than half an hour ago reads as follows-“
the screen shifted, and suddenly, there it was. cold white text against a black background that had your breathing stopping completely.
“the allegations regarding ceo jeon jungkook are entirely false. the individual photographed was present for a scheduled business meeting attended by multiple executives and investors. legal action will be taken against all parties responsible for the deliberate spread of false information and invasion of privacy.”
your throat tightened harshly.
your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the presenter stop, looking at the camera momentarily, before her voice completely softened.
“as for the final portion of the statement, many online are expressing surprise regarding the unusually personal nature of his response as he personally commented-“
more text appeared.
you scanned it once. twice.
over and over and over until a harsh sob was ripped from your lips.
“i have never entertained nor pursued any romantic involvement with anyone.
there has only ever been one woman.”
a broken sound tore from your throat as your hand flew to your mouth, fresh tears spilling from eyes so fast that you couldn’t see the tv. your heart felt like it had been picked up from the ground, cradled and cherished after being pierced over and over all night, attacked without any reprise.
you couldn’t believe what you were reading.
jungkook, your jungkook? so private and reserved, not willing to give one inch of himself to anyone other than you and yet here he was, making himself as clear as possible. he was telling everyone with ears that you were his but more importantly, he belonged to you and you alone.
he despised media attention, it truly was the one thing he hated more than anything and the both of you would often laugh at rumours and random things stated in the tabloids because they were all bullshit.
and yet he has made a statement publicly.
for you.
your chest cracked at the thought as you covered your face with both hands, sobbing harder and harder.
before you could wallow further, a loud banging erupted from the front door.
the sound tore so violently through the apartment, you jumped - startled on the couch whilst your heart leapt to your throat. the slight fear had your tears stopping immediately, allowing for enough of a shock to regulate your mind for a few moments.
another knock came before you could even process it. louder, and louder, and louder.
“baby!”
your breath hitched painfully.
jungkook?
his voice sounded wrecked. not the calm, controlled man the world knew, nor the eerie ceo who often stood emotionless in front of the cameras whilst deals worth billions sat heavy on his shoulders. this was your jungkook - the one who loved you much too hard, half unravelled whenever the conversation pertained to you.
“open the door.” he shouted again, along another collective banging. his voice cracked slightly. “please..”
you stared into space for just a moment, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening before your legs carried you to the door, through the hallway. you slipped on your blanket slightly, already shaking body weaker than usual given the past twenty four hours, all whilst hot, heavy tears burned in your eyes once more.
another knock.
“baby, c’mon..”
the second your shaking hands unlocked the door, it swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it, as though jungkook couldn’t believe you had actually heard him.
he looked utterly destroyed.
he stood, still in a suit that now sat disheveled on his frame, black tie loosened around his throat, white shirt wrinkled as though he had been in it for hours. his usually pushed back hair was messy, pulled at and tugged through large hands any time he had realised the depths of emotion you were no doubt feeling looking at the news - if the shoe was on the other foot, and jungkook had seen news of you and another man; he would’ve happily burnt the world to a crisp.
the second he saw you, his entire face fell apart, anger long dissipating.
“fuck.” he whispered, heaving out a breath.
his oversized shirt sat on your body, engulfing your smaller frame, swallowing you whole in a way that had his breath taken away. it was your eyes that broke him, however, as they looked so swollen, no doubt from crying so hard, your cheeks still damp and lips still quivering enough that he watched you bite down on them.
you watched his throat bob harshly, watched his eyes flicker over yourself frantically like he was trying to assess how badly you had been hurting without him here to comfort you. the thought terrified him.
that was all it took for a sob to rip out of your chest so painfully your knees almost buckled. your hands flew up to your face.
immediately, his arms shot out, cradling you almost harshly to him with one large arm completely covering you whilst his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you close to him as though this was the only remedy for a situation like this. his sweet girl. his sweet, sweet girl.
“i called you for nineteen fucking hours.” he said, eyes darting down at you desperately.
you couldn’t stop crying. “i know.”
“your phone was off.” his voice broke slightly, as though the situation had hurt him beyond words. “that scared me, y/n.” he admitted, chest heaving a little.
your crying only worsened immediately because of course it scared him - jeon jungkook, a man who’s entire identity was you and you alone. the prospect of losing you for the second time would surely be enough to kill him, and yet answering his calls felt like the last thing you could bring yourself to do.
“i tried not to think like that,” you choked out through hiccups. “i know you wouldn’t, logically i know but just kept seeing the pictures of you beside her and..”
your chest was heaving.
“stop talking about her.”
the words came out sharp, almost harsh.
his hand slipped to cup your face, holding your jaw in place whilst his arm slipped down, cupping your body to him so you could rest, his own strength supporting you up. his eyes were wild.
“don’t,” he repeated quieter, chest rising and falling. “don’t..stand here and..fuck, don’t compare yourself to someone else for even a second over some shitty tabloid.”
you couldn’t stop crying. it was as though that was all you could do.
“jungkook..”
“no.” he cut in immediately, voice cracking at the edges. “you don’t get it.”
he stood before you, a cocktail mix of utter despair and devotion, all whilst anger and fear simmered on the surface, every emotion open on his face to the point he almost felt unrecognisable. you knew he loved you, could see it painted on his features for the world to see but you weren’t sure when his feelings for you had become his very destruction. it scared you.
his hand shook around your face.
“you think i flew half a day because of a fucking dating rumour?” his eyes glazed over. “i don’t give a fuck about the tabloids, baby, you know that. i was scared because i know what this would do to you. i know your brain.”
your breath hitched.
“i know you.” he repeated, hands continuing to shake against you. “know how your mind gets. i know you’d sit here and cry over this shit when you know i would never touch another woman.”
another harsh sob clawed up your throat, and jungkook heaved at the sight as though it was the worst sound he had ever heard.
“look at me.” he pleaded suddenly.
his hands dropping from your body as he suddenly dropped to his knees - a man of his stature rendered completely broken by the woman he loved. the amount of people who looked up to him, feared him; the amount of people he dictated on a daily basis and yet here he was, on his knees for you. only you.
“there has never been anyone else.” his voice cracked completely. “not before you, not after you. not after this, no matter what happens, you hear me? it’s you, and it’s always going to be just you.”
your own knees were begging to give out, as you leaned against him, only for him to rest his face against your stomach, breathing you in like a man desperate for your understanding. he wanted you to see, needed you to comprehend the situation at hand. there was no him without you, the concept didn’t exist.
“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved and there is nothing after you, y/n, because you’re my wife. divorce or not, i don’t give a fuck, i belong to you forever whether you want me or not and i won’t..i can’t have you thinking otherwise.”
your entire body gave in at the admission as you collapsed into him with another heart breaking sob, jungkook holding you like a man terrified he had said too much and truly not enough. for the first time since the divorce, neither of you tried to pretend this wasn’t exactly what it was.
—
the rest of the evening softened after that.
somewhere between the tears and the endless kisses planted to your cheeks, nose, head, hands and stomach came an ease to the panic that had long settled into your bones for the past few months. he refused to let you go, grunting almost childishly whenever you’d move out of his arms to do anything until you found yourself snuggled back into his arms, as though the thought of distance after such a clear cut declaration of love physically pained him.
he looked exhausted now that the adrenaline of the situation had worn off, his under eyes sunken from the exhaustion that had now settled deep into his body. to think he had flown all the way across the world simply because of the thought of you crying all alone over a situation that was so completely false upset him - it made you want to sob all over again.
how could you have ever let him go? how could you proceed forward without him, without him so deeply intertwined in your life once more?
eventually you found an old pair of black shorts mixed in with your clothes from when you had packed your things all those months ago. jungkook had stared at them for a few moments after his shower, towel low on his hips as water droplets slipped down his chest. it had his heart pounding faster than anything yet.
“you kept these?” he murmured down at you, watching the way your eyes flickered up from his physique, small gasp leaving your lips at being caught. “oh! um..must’ve slipped them in by accident.”
he didn’t comment on the fact you were wearing his t-shirt either, despite it hardening his cock.
still, he pulled them on as you settled into bed, your hair still scented from your earlier shower too. you, in his too big top, whilst he grabbed you immediately, shirtless and hands still desperate to hold you in a way he had held back on for so long.
you hummed as your body pressed against his, his figure snaking around your body as a heavy arm curled under your ass as a means to prop you up higher in his arms, causing you to giggle into his neck. your arms wrapped around him too, humming a little under your breath as he breathed in your scent openly.
you both laid there in silence for a long while, breathing. healing.
the room was dark now, with the city lights from afar shining through the slips of your blinds, illuminating slivers of his bare chest beside where your hands sat. you could feel his heartbeat, the way it calmed your already heightened senses as though your body recognised it was finally home.
“missed this.” you whispered into his ear, only snuggling closer to him.
jungkook’s grip, once on your waist, slid down to your ass once more. this time, his palm sat on your ass cheek, fingers digging into your skin whilst breathing you in.
“don’t say shit like that to me when i’m hard.” he grunted, a small smile forming across your lips. you hadn’t even done anything, not that you needed to to get jungkook bothered.
when you pulled him from your neck, his eyes were already glazed over, both of you taking a second to simply stare at one another in the exact way you had wanted for so long. his mouth parted, as his hooded eyes took you in, holding you closer, tighter.
within seconds, his lips touched yours.
slowly, at first, as though he was trying to relearn you after years of you being his. he savoured every moment of your lips against his, especially once you started to kiss him back, both of you uncertain in the beginning but once your hands began to find home in his hair, it was then that jungkook’s touch began to grow in confidence.
he kissed like a man starved, one hand buried in your hair too whilst the other continued to grip your ass possessively, as though physically feeling you was enough to have his mind go into overdrive. every small sound you made went straight to his cock as he swallowed your little sighs and whimpers, only pushing him to kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.
he was growing desperate, pushing you down against the bed, half hovering over you as he rested on one arm, hand cupping at your thighs, your stomach, your knee. anything he could get his hands on all whilst his tongue explored your mouth as though he had every right.
perhaps he did because despite everything, the divorce and distance, the heartbreak - he still reacted to you like you were the only thing capable of fucking him up.
his lips eventually drifted from your mouth, pressing against your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. oh, this sweet, pretty little neck, he had dreams of marking it up and down every other night and the fact he had you in his arms now, in a bed far too small for the things he so desperately wanted to do to you was everything and more.
jungkook moved, properly hovering over you now just as you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pushing your top down your thighs and revealing your lace panties you had conveniently put on. just in case, of course.
he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths as you watched it break apart the further he pulled his head back. just staring at you hurt, with the way your cheeks had flushed and your hair was spread all across the pillow, and your thighs. fuck. the sight of what was between them had him openly groaning down at you.
“need you to tell me to stop baby, or i won’t be able to hold back.” he hissed down at you, feeling your legs tighten around him before he could finish his sentence.
your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, eyes never leaving his as you tugged on it just slightly. jungkook, who’s two hands were on either side of your head, blinked down at you half in awe and other agony, the prospect of you teasing him in a moment like this his literal worst nightmare. you always knew how to make him impatient, said it was the best version of him.
he watched with bated breath as you grabbed one of his arms until his hand was in your own, slowly pushing it under your top to rest on your stomach. it felt heavy on your frame, large palm heating your already hot skin before you pulled him down, other arm wrapping around his neck.
“wanna feel you here, kookie.” you whispered into his ear.
jungkook nearly took you then and there.
his jaw flexed, a heavy leaving his lips as he chased your lips, planting another kiss. “yeah? want kookie deep inside?”
“mhm.” you hummed against him, placing your hand over his on your stomach.
“but haven’t taken me for so long, baby. might be too much.”
you closed your eyes at that - the way he cooed down at you despite telling you how easily he could ruin you, break you. it all felt like too much and yet the empty ache inside of you reminded you it wasn’t enough, causing you to merely nod.
“i don’t care. want it.”
the pout on your lips. fuck. jungkook thanked the gods he was a better man, more patient, especially knowing you were doing this on purpose.
“always used to struggle to take me, hm? fucked you open every night and you’d still cry.”
jungkook reached forward, lips on your neck once more but this time, his hips began chasing yours, grinding down almost harshly, causing you to feel every inch, every vein against the flimsy material you called panties. it was heavenly
your hands grabbed him by his biceps, smaller hands unable to wrap around the circumference of his skin. how could you forget your nights of passion? he would spend hours between your legs, so mean, orgasm after orgasm and he still wouldn’t feel satisfied, an insatiable man to his core. even on nights you’d argue, it would somehow end in you fucking which meant the last eight months had been utter hell.
your poor fingers couldn’t reach far enough and nothing brought you to an orgasm unless you thought of him, imagining it was own digits instead of your own.
silly you - if only you realised how similar you and jungkook were. he couldn’t get off unless he was on your instagram, staring at your pretty eyes and lips as he tugged on his cock with all of his energy, round after round after round only to be constantly dissatisfied. having you below him, so ready to be his again? it fucked with his head.
“you'll make it fit.” you whispered.
within mere moments, neither of you could wait. his shorts, alongside the large tshirt that originally belonged to him were on the floor, leaving you in your lacy panties alone. his boxers strained against his hardened length which oozed precum at the mere sight of you, hips bucking a little as you watched him groan out loud at the wet patch forming against the flimsy material.
“my pretty pussy.” he whispered, just as he parted your legs. his fingers pushed your panties to the side, almost hissing from how damp they were, knowing you must have been needy for a while. “missed her. you’ve been holding out on me, baby.”
your eyelashes fluttered up at him at the first touch of his fingers running up and down your slit. you let out an airy moan, barely audible, your body immediately easing back into the covers now that you could finally feel him on you.
he suckled on your neck whilst he circled your clit, knowing your body better than anyone. you were both so in tune with each other’s wants and needs that an eight month break between you both meant nothing when he bit against the sweet spot on your neck all whilst applying more pressure.
you squeaked, nails digging into his biceps at the harshness of his fingers.
“fuck, you’re so needy.” he grunted, pulling away from your neck after leaving a hefty purple bruise. “not been touching your pussy the way it needs.”
“doesn’t feel..” you moaned louder. “doesn’t feel good if you don’t do it.”
his eyes almost rolled back at that. “yeah? need kookie to be the one to touch you?”
“mhm.”
at that, he pulled his hand away only resulting in a loud whine from you. so cruel, to have been given a taste, only to have it pulled away from you.
your positions, however, suddenly changed as jungkook realised the space on the bed was much smaller compared to the bed you had once shared. he rested his back on your wooden bed frame before grabbing you properly, resting you in his lap against his too hard cock, spreading your legs wide.
your back was against his chest, all whilst he caged you in, his fingers returning to your cunt immediately.
this new position had you so much more exposed, as he pushed your thighs apart, index finger circling your hole before slowly pushing inside. your eyebrows furrowed, watching him with a shake to your breath as he took his time, knowing a single one of his was the equivalent of two or three of your own - a though that had him wanting to fuck into you already.
the loud moan that left your lips once he fully inserted it was enough to have him kissing at your temple, cooing.
“like that?”
“feels big.” you whispered back with a shake, feeling him pump in and out.
at that, jungkook thought he was ready to fucking cum. even your pussy was as sweet as you were - too big? one finger and you were already fucked out, but he knew he had to stretch you to accommodate him, a thought that brought a nasty little smirk on his face.
“gotta fuck you open, baby. always so tight.” he continued to coo at you, all as you looked up at him, his finger being joined with another.
soon enough, he was roughly fingering you, all whilst you both maintained eye contact, often breaking it just to share a kiss as though neither of you could get closer to the other. the feeling of him inside you, just like you had become used to for so many years after months apart was the definition of pleasure, your eyes hooded with each pump.
“feels s’good.” you slurred slightly, chest heaving.
he watched your breasts, your bed squeaking with each passing movement and he fucking loved it. loved having your eyes on him, loved having your tits bounced everytime he’d fuck you open a little harder, your sweet moans filling the space.
you could feel how hard he was, but everytime you tried to turn to pleasure him too, he’d merely hold you tighter, as though your orgasm was the only objective on his mind. he wanted to eat you out, fuck - the thought had him all but growling at you but he knew he’d never last, promising himself he’d save that for later tonight.
“wish you knew how many times i’ve dreamt about this.” he grunted down at you, as he watched your thighs try to close from the onslaught of pleasure, only for him to widen them immediately. “i’m constantly fisting my cock thinking about you. at work, at home, in the fucking car.”
“what do you think about?” you pressed desperately, needing to hear it.
jungkook bared his teeth at you slightly, all whilst his pace quickened. “think about breeding you, pumping you full of cum till you’re begging me to stop. every morning, every night until you’re pregnant with our baby. you’d like that, hm?”
you could have sobbed. like was an understatement, your legs widening with each passing word as you nodded almost desperately at him, looking up and above where his head tilted down to watch you.
your eyes then fluttered shut at the image of him touching himself, almost shuddering out of relief at the thought of him so infatuated that he had to cum just to get you off of his mind. especially at work - the whole reason of your divorce being his dedication to his occupation and now knowing you had your affect on him there too? it was euphoric.
“think about you all the time.” you whimpered back at him, pout so cute he wanted to scream. “tried..fuck..tried to touch myself after the gala..but wasn’t enough.”
he watched as you shook your head up at him, one of your hands on his wrist as the same hand pumped faster inside of you at the admission. he cursed under his breath, letting out a deep exhale.
“should’ve told me. fuck, y/n. would’ve ruined you then, baby, you know that right?” he nuzzled into your cheek. “would’ve let you use me as much as you want.”
it was your turn to whimper under your breath, as your eyes shut tight at the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to creep up. it was shocking, how slowly it managed to creep on you, and yet you could feel every inch of its intensity, the first in a long time where you know you’d feel satisfied.
jungkook could feel you clenching, your too tight hole sucking him in desperately as a bid to have him go meaner on you, to which he was more than happy to oblige with. he grabbed your chin with his other hand, forcing your head back so you’d open your eyes again. he wanted to watch.
“eyes on me, pretty girl.”
you weren’t sure if it was the sweet way he cooed at you, or the brutal pace he was now forcing you to take but your orgasm hit you like a freight train. you let out a loud squeak as electricity fluttered through from your head to your toes, your hips rising whilst he continued to finger you through your high, hissing at how sexy you looked maintaining eye contact.
his pace didn’t lessen, devoted to longing out every hit of pleasure for as long as possible, your legs shaking as you pawed at his wrist, but he refused to stop. your body began falling into overstimulation, whining loudly as your weakened hands grabbed onto his, feeling him finally slow whilst he remained two fingers deep, pushed inside of you all the way to his knuckles.
he curled them one last time, causing a shaky breath to leave you before slowly removing them inch by inch.
the emptiness inside of you was horrible, a reminder of what else you wanted and how badly. your big eyes met his, only to watch him take his fingers press them against your pouted lips until they parted, your tongue wrapping around. you tasted yourself, a sweet sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his cock jolting harshly in his boxers.
“still don’t think you can take me right now.” he whispered down at you, other hand moved so it was openly cupping your pussy as a whole, palm brushing against your hypersensitive clit.
you jolted which each passing touch, breathing shaky before you took his fingers out of your mouth, saliva coating them where your slick once was.
“don’t care, kookie. i want it anyway.” you grumbled slightly, and he swore he had never loved you more.
it was your turn to move as you pulled away from his grasp, giggling a little to yourself at the look on his face once you put space between you, only to turn around, so you were laying on your stomach. he remained in his position, legs on either side of you allowing you to press your hand against his massive bulge.
oh, how you’d missed his cock.
you were as impatient as ever as you pulled his boxers down enough so that his fat cock could finally spring free, watching the way it tilted upwards at first, but its weight forced it down lower and lower until it was resting almost gently on your face.
he wanted to take a picture. wanted to make it his screen saver, your contact picture in his phone - he wanted it in his fucking wallet. his girl, eyes all hooded after being bratty for his cock? you were a minx and you didn’t even know it.
“don’t have a condom.” he found himself whispering at you, just as you began to pump him.
you tilted your head at him, hand unable to wrap around his length as you slowly teased his slit, fingers brushing against it just to him shudder. you watched his face, watched his very composure crumble before your very eyes all whilst he muttered something about a condom? your mind was barely working, still sensitive from the way he had made you cum and the horniness still in your stomach.
“why would i want you to wear a condom?” you whispered up at him, as though it was a little secret between you.
you watched his eyes darken in real time, narrowing down at you as both of his large hands grabbed the back of your head. you giggled, resting your cheek on his thigh whilst you continued to pump his cock, focusing on the tip just the way he liked it. the heaviness in your hand was what you missed the most, causing you to leave a little kiss to it on the mushroom tip, your fluttering eyes only driving him more and more insane.
he wouldn’t last like this. not with you staring up at him like that.
and so, he pulled your hair. you whimpered, pussy clenching as he pulled you up by your locks, your large eyes completely taken over by how rough he was being with you, no doubt being fuelled by the heightened emotions of the past two days. this was your favourite jungkook, secretly of course.
within seconds, you were on your back once more, all whilst he grabbed your hips and yanked you close to him. he dropped down to give you a kiss on your lips, savouring the taste and feel of you before beginning to rub his cock up and down your tight hole.
“my girl.” he whispered against your mouth. “no going back after this.”
your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of him teasing you, pushing the tip against your hole only to pull back the second it began inserting, rubbing it up and down and over your clit once more. he was a tease through and through, but you were too needy to see reason.
“don’t wanna go back, want it all.” you simply whimpered back.
your words were enough to finally have him pushing inside of you.
first, the tip. your face contorted to the familiar feel of his cock slowly inserting inside of you, your breath catching slightly at the sheer size of him - you struggled to take him even when your sex life was incredibly active, so you knew now that you hadn’t been touched for eight months, this was going to be hard.
you watched his face harden, all whilst your eyes slipped downwards to see him pushing further in, inch by inch, until your fingernails were puncturing the skin of his outer arms. he watched your face instead, willing himself not to cum at the way your jaw grew slack, big eyes only widening further at the too large cock settling in inside of you.
it was too much, too big, too at once. you couldn’t think, could barely see and yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from watching him bottom out even if you wanted to, a slight bulge evident where he sat deep inside of you. his large hand took a hold of yours and kissed it before pressing it against the bulge, only to rest his own right on top. applying pressure, he hissed at the way you let out a loud whimper, your cute thighs trembling around him.
“feel that?” he whispered down at you, nuzzling your nose to force you to look at him. “thats where i fucking belong. this pussy stretches so good for me every time.”
your lip was already trembling, a sight that had his cock throbbing deep inside of you as you clenched down on him hard. his cry baby - he loved seeing you teary during sex.
you were still adjusting as he began to move, causing you to squeal, but jungkook couldn’t wait anymore, not when he’d been dealt with blue balls for close to a year. you were the only option, pledging to live a life of fucking celibacy if you’d have chosen to never let him inbetween your legs again though the thought killed him inside. live a life without a taste of your sweet pussy? he’d sooner die.
“jungkook!” you slapped the tops of his biceps, as he continued his thrusting inside of you, nipping at your jaw, feeling his smirk against your skin.
the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was intense, something you had been craving for so long now and yet now it was happening, you wanted more, and more and more and more and more. he loved this shy game you’d always play, always pretending like you couldn’t take it despite the fact your legs were widening further and you were moaning like a bitch in heat - it turned him on beyond words to know underneath the sweet persona, you were the filthiest slut he had ever known.
his pace was deep, mean but slow and it wasn’t enough, purposefully done to tease you for as long as he could, to ensure you’d stay needy. it was clearly working with the way your moans, whines and gasps filled the air only to be followed with a long drawl of his name, face scrunched up so cute he wanted to fucking scream.
“c’mon, baby, you’re so good to me.” he cooed, continuing his slow thrusts. “just gotta ask if you want something.”
your eyes scrunched shut, whimpering at his words knowing he wanted you in ways that you had reminisced on for months, the feeling of him kissing the gummy part of your cunt something you had missed so much.
“want it properly, kookie.” you begged him, though you couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes flickering down to his neck as he continued his pace. “yeah? tell kookie how you want it.”
your fingers clung to his shoulders as he came down, arms now pressed on either side of your head as he nuzzled your nose with his own, actions too sweet given the sinful position he had you in.
your breathing was ragged, the feel of him inside you too much for your poor little mind to handle without breaking and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. you craved something harsher, meaner, more jungkook. neither of you had ever been ones for soft sex, always preferring it as needy as possible which only heightened considering the fact you were both so utterly obsessive when it came to the other.
you whined loudly as his actions came to a stop completely, now grinding against you whilst still being inside.
“just want you to fuck me properly.” you whimpered, lip quivering so much faster, hips lifting to meet his as a means to relieve yourself.
god. you were killing him.
“good girl.”
jungkook planted a single kiss to your lips, oddly sweet before pulling back, planting two more to your forehead and nose. you were ready to whine once more until you felt his hips pull back, only to thrust into you harshly.
you squealed as jungkook began his pace exactly how you craved it, exactly how you used to picture with your own fingers in your cunt, desperately trying and failing to replicate the feel. hard. fast. mean. rough.
your neighbours would no doubt complain tomorrow with the way your bed frame began pounding into the wall, his head pressed against yours as his thrusts began kissing your cervix. your legs shook around him, much to his enjoyment, all whilst he forced you to maintain eye contact, wanting so badly to see the affect he was having on you after he had been deprived of you for so long.
“fuck..there she is. that’s my girl.” he hissed down at you, not holding back, the sound of skin slapping against skin heavy in the room. “you don’t know how badly i missed you.”
“m-missed..ugh! missed you..too..” you managed to string together, salted tears now escaping your eyes as they streamed on either side of the pillow.
“pretty girl like you needs to be fucked mean. no good to be nice to you, huh?” he growled down at you, only causing your lip to quiver that much faster as you nodded. “can’t think unless it’s me bullying your pussy into an orgasm.”
your nods were paired with soft sobs as he pounded, ruining your soppy core just like you had wanted. you had dreamt of this, dreamt of him, genuinely believing you’d never reach this state of pleasure ever again in your life and yet here he was, coaxing it out of you to remind you that he’d never leave you again.
his thrusts were sloppier than usual, no doubt due to the extensive length between your last fuck but it only had you moaning and crying louder. the thought of the usually composed jeon jungkook a whining mess for you and you alone had you clamping down hard on his cock.
“can’t believe i let you leave me.” he grunted hard at the feel of you getting so tight, gritting his teeth as he pounded you further. “never again. you fucking hear me, y/n? you’re my wife forever.”
“promise?” you sobbed back, arms now wrapping around his neck as you tried to bring him impossibly closer, as though you could in any capacity.
he nipped at your bottom lip, moaning into your mouth at the way you all but begged him to make it a reality.
“gonna take you to the courthouse tomorrow, get you a nice dress and we do..fuck..we do this again, understand?” he closed his eyes the more you whined and whined. “gonna let me put that ring back on your fucking finger, baby?”
you nodded wildly, just as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach again, whining loudly up at him in a way he recognised immediately. fuck, he had missed this so much - his angel girl, all needy, begging for it even though she could barely take it. he could feel his own coming on fast, causing him to pull his hand down and rub at your clit, hissing at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock harshly.
“c’mon baby. want you to cum on your husband’s cock, hm? gonna get you nice and round like you deserve.” his thrusts only got meaner. “move you back in. fuck this pussy every single day, just like you need.”
your high rushed through you at the exact point his did, your legs wrapping around his waist as a means to keep him inside. you could feel it all through your body, the way it seized up and bucked into him all whilst he continued his thrusts, fucking you through both of your orgasms.
your vision started growing dark, the intensity of it overwhelming as he rode out your highs whilst whispering soft i love you’s in your ear, cradling you to his chest, holding you closer than you’d ever felt him before.
everything after that completely blurred together.
you remembered jungkook taking care of you, tenderness laced into his very being as he held you like you were akin to a porcelain doll - sweet, so soft, so delicate. somewhere between the damp kisses pressed to your skin underneath the bubbling bath he had drawn for you both, to the continuous declarations of love muttered down at you; you realised that this was inevitable. he was inevitable.
there didn’t exist a reality where you both could live without one another - you knew that now.
even after the heartbreak, the divorce, the loneliness and the debilitating grief, you still found yourself exactly where you belonged. your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat soothing you into a dreamlike state which paled in comparison to the reality that was now yours. his love had you wrapped so tightly you knew you’d never live without it again.
you were finally home.
—
this beast of a fic is finally done yay!!! i hope you guys love ex husband jungkook just as much as i do!
tried to make him less yandere in this one and more pathetic yearner lol but i may have slipped here and there 💔
i’d love to hear your thoughts on this - love hearing you guys after a fic drops so i’m excited to see what you all think!!!!
if you wanna help support me pay my disgusting, awful, horrific london rent, my kofi is linked <3
This was so sweet!! I love how they gave each other space before coming back together to work on things. This Jungkook is a professional yearner and I LIVED for it
title: angel (m)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken pt. 1 | broken pt. 2 | fugue pt. 1 | fugue pt. 2 | fugue pt. 3 | fugue pt. 4
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: right before he leaves, your brother’s conversation makes your heart stop. and it forces you to make a decision that you need to stick to, no matter what the future holds.
note: it’s been.. two years since the last main storyline update. many things have happened since then, i’ve learned more about myself, and touched more grass than ever. but we’re finally back to our scheduled tangerine programming, and it feels so surreal. incredibly grateful to everyone that has stayed, and welcome to all of you that are new to the 3tan universe!
note 2: also, happy birthday to @somebodydoesluv, @al3ejandra, and anyone else who is celebrating around this time! may you all celebrate a prosperous and healthy year around the sun.
warnings: how it starts LOL, language, explicit scenes, angst, tension, overthinkers overthinking, sibling fights, abandonment mentions, yoongi in those gd glasses again, jimin…?, obligatory kissing warning, everyone being a ride or die i’m weeping, we give the yoongi the business oops, ermm did i say angst, crying, hand holding since it’s a warning now, weapon mentions, wound mentions, yoongi on the phone :), blanket kicks incoming, feelings at an all time peak, fluff??, bro best bro, yoongi in tanks….., vmin best vmin, reader is so strong, but both siblings just need hugs man😩, studio………. time……?, things get so nasty i was blushing y’all ngl
explicit warnings: under the cut and dear god help me lmao
mood: off my face - justin bieber ; ojitos lindos - bad bunny
drop date: july 14th, 2026, 7:17pm est
word count: 25.2k…….. :’)))
explicit warnings: cursing, thigh riding, cowgirl, oral (m rec), naughty studio time(??), couch sex, rough sex, giving yoongi the business, bold as fuck reader, choking, spanking, penetrative sex, kissing deserves to be here too lol, alexa play no hands by waka flocka, deep throating, hair/head tugging, nipple play, yoongi in that gd tank, yoongi in those gd glasses, teasing, titty fucking hello!!!!, stripping while he watches…. yeah, missionary, sub!3tanyoongi?????, scratching, multiple orgasms, protected sex, emotional sex, good god they’re so hot i’m blushing
—
—
It’s morning when Jimin gets a call.
Shifting in sheets that aren’t his, he sleepily blinks once before eyeing the blue light with a squint, wondering who dares wake him up before his natural rise. What time even is it anyway? It’s gotta be an ungodly hour if his circadian rhythm is disturbed.
Still, he grabs his cell from the nightstand, flinching at the movement behind him and inwardly slinging out curses.
Because waking him up is one thing.
But if anyone disturbs Taehyung he’s gonna give them hell—
Min Yoongi: Incoming Call
Shit.
Jimin yanks the covers off, rushing out of bed and snapping Tae awake anyway. For what? Don’t fucking know, but they’re ready. Wherever. Whatever. They already stayed up clutching their phones until they physically couldn’t keep their eyes open.
Because as much as Yoongi assured him nothing would happen, Jimin still couldn’t let go of his car keys.
Answering slow, he feels his chest winding and winding, eyes locked with Taehyung while they both wait on edge, “…Yoongi?”
“Yeah.”
Thank the fucking stars.
Yoongi’s okay. He’s on the line. He made it to morning or whatever fucking time it is, and he’s doing exactly what he said he would.
And it’s enough, enough, enough.
Burns zing up the corners of Jimin’s eyes, and he swipes hard as Taehyung moves, likely to hear what’s happening and even more likely to just be by his side.
Jimin is grateful for either one. But he tries to keep composure as he croaks, “You better have woken me up for a reason.”
The slight hum on the line induces a wobbly smile. “You slept?”
“Fuck you,” Jimin shakily laughs, wiping liquid relief from an eye before Taehyung’s thumb brushes tenderly over the other. His gaze is thankful while continuing, “We did but not much.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Sniffling, Jimin walks to Tae’s door, letting him into the hallway first and finally drinking in the sight of his ass in those sweats. Because he can finally function like a normal, smitten loser again. “We’ll come over so we can—”
“No need.”
“What?” Nope. Back to panic mode. And judging from his boyfriend’s posture, Taehyung has backpedaled into that, too. “What do you mean no need?”
There’s a slight pause on the line, and small noises make their way through the speaker. It sounds like bedsheets, but it also sounds like…
“She’s still sleeping.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
A tidal wave of relief crashes into Jimin’s ducts as he hangs his head, palming his face caught in a heavy tide of emotion. When he turns, Taehyung fairs no better, his eyes red and fingers wiping at a perfect, perfect cheek. One of them sniffles, but Jimin can’t tell if it’s him or not, because his vision is blurry and his heart is beating, beating, beating again.
Whether you know it or not, whatever you did last night may have just changed Yoongi’s entire life.
Because Jimin knows this man through and through. Years of picking up his habits and tells didn’t amount to nothing. It’s how he was able to sense exactly when to intervene, and how he knew exactly what that hauntingly hollow tone in Yoongi’s voice meant when he busted in that day.
The tone he hears now? The man that just spoke on the line?
That is a Min Yoongi so in love he can’t even hide it over the phone.
Fuck.
Gathering himself, Jimin squeaks out, “I… I’m glad you…” What the fuck does he say? Every thought jams in his throat so hard he has to hand the phone off.
Thankfully, Taehyung perfectly continues his thoughts, voice scratching rocks under a waking river, “We’re glad you’re both safe.”
“Mm.”
“So when’s the wedding?”
Jimin huffs through a fresh batch of tears, clearing his face before grinning at Tae very seriously awaiting an answer. Honestly, at this point? It’s not far-fetched. Jimin’s seeing your future clearer than his present, and maybe he will be a fun uncle sooner than he thinks.
If only Yoongi would just get the fucking talk with your brother over with.
But Jimin understands the hesitation. If he were in that same position, there’s no telling when he would be courageous enough to stand up to the guy. There’s a reason he’s quick to command a room, and his lifelong mission to protect his younger sister made him grow up a lot faster than everyone else.
Still… Yoongi just deserves to be happy. And you’re the very obvious answer to helping with that.
As much as he may have wanted some chances of his own, Jimin is grateful you found your way into his best friend’s heart. Not just anyone is invited inside, and even less people can truly be allowed to stay.
And you’re probably the only one that has permanent residence.
“You guys should get some sleep.”
Taehyung pouts right on cue, and Jimin can’t fight those sleepy, droopy eyes. “You didn’t answer me.”
Cute as fuck! He must be stopped. Taking the phone, Jimin speaks into the line fully recovered, shooting his cheeky partner a teasing glare, “We will if you get some, too.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Got some things to do at the studio—”
“No!” They reject together, both equally as appalled because what the fuck kinda answer is that?
“After what happened last night? Are you crazy?”
“What happened to spending time with her? Men!”
“He’s going on a business trip, I can’t lose to him.”
“So what?” Tae asks before they both share an even further confused look. Yoongi may be a lovesick fool but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be a dumbass! “You’re just gonna leave her alone?”
There’s a sigh on the line before Jimin plants a hand on his hip. “Not just that. You gotta rest, too, bro. If she doesn’t tell you to take it easy or at least get checked—which she will—we’re going over there to annoy you.”
“You serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious.” Jimin cocks his head and leans closer to the phone. “At least rest easy for the next couple days. Especially if you have all this time to see each other.”
The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Your brother is leaving for his trip and Yoongi caught some unfortunate hits to his ribs. The dude basically has a free pass to spend the whole week with you, and he’s not even taking full advantage of it? Oh, the things Jimin has to say about the thin line of work ethic and relationship effort.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it for a long time,” Taehyung cuts in before Jimin can pop off, walking away into the living room.
It’s fine. Let him figure out that you aren’t a woman he can just leave. Frankly? That would tickle Jimin to no end to see Yoongi folding his plans so fast just to be with you.
But he spares him the tirade only because you’re fast asleep right next to him. “Thank you for calling, man.”
“Said I would.”
“I know.”
Because above all else, Jimin is happy to hear that voice. Even if it’s obvious he’s a little banged up from last night, it’s still Yoongi. In one piece. That’s all Jimin wanted, and he can’t thank you enough,
“Don’t overwork yourself, and stay with her as long as you can.”
There’s a small laugh on the other end. “I plan on it, Chim.”
And Jimin catches on to why. “I’m holding you to that then.”
—
—
Dawn breaks through open blinds, stretching its orange tint across a clean, spotless table.
You don’t know what got you up so early. But when you peer into the kitchen, you tell yourself you woke up right on time.
Because seeing Yoongi when you’re wide awake is better than any dream you’ll ever have.
Not because of his appearance, even though the sight of him sends a pang through your chest. No. It’s the way he’s quietly prepping a morning meal, using the arm on his better side that’s not sporting a nasty hit to the ribs, without you even asking.
Bits of sunlight dance right out of your eyes.
The effort. The consideration. This man shouldn’t be lifting a finger, yet here he is cooking before you even left his bed. Isn’t this the same man that got caught up in a fight hours ago? Isn’t this the same man you almost walked out on with a frozen heart?
Yes. But he’s also the same man that loves you. And you still can’t grasp that concept in any of the fingers playing with his tee you borrowed.
“Hi,” you whisper, telling him a thousand things.
To which he regards before smiling soft, voice travelling over linoleum and circling around your heart, “Morning, doll.”
Damn. You hear it. Yoongi’s sore as hell.
But instead of getting into that right away, you silently take residence by his side. Because this moment feels too delicate, and you admire his willingness to take care of you unprompted. You didn’t even know you’d eat before going back home.
With a hand warming his back, you wait until Yoongi’s done tossing food on the stove to peck his morning-chilled cheek. “Thank you for cooking,” you murmur, admiring those beautiful brown eyes. “Sleep okay?”
“Cus of you,” your lover softly responds, eyeing your lips before gliding back up to your gaze. “You?”
Ugh. He’s gotta know those glasses are so unfair. They’ve gotten you repeatedly before, and they’re certainly getting you now.
But you can’t help but deflate at the cuts behind those rims, while knowing there are even more bruises hiding underneath his oversized tee. How is Yoongi cooking right now? How is he even awake? “Same.”
“Good.”
These instant, deep shivers at his deeper morning voice will never, ever go away. But anything you wanna do about them isn’t important right now. Right now, you need to make sure Yoongi is either okay, or finds a way to get better.
Sliding your hands down the slopes of his chest, you delicately rest one on his ribs. “Does it still hurt?”
Yikes. That wince is enough. But Yoongi doesn’t shy away from your touch, and you appreciate the way he stays honest. “It’s sore. But I should be good.”
“You gonna get it checked?”
There’s a slight upward tilt of his lips. “Not right now.” At least the honesty persists, as much as you don’t want him following the typical manly response to hospital visits. “But I will if you want me to.”
“Please go,” you gently urge, lest you disturb the soft morning dew before it melts with the sunrise. “For me?”
Only sizzles from the stove fill the space until Yoongi nods, and his voice is just as low and tender, “I’ll go after work.”
Oh. “You’re working today?”
Just like breakfast, you didn’t expect this, either. Frankly, you figured neither of you were gonna even think about work, much less go. Sure, he’s due a hospital visit and you owe some friends immediate explanations for your absence. But other than that, shouldn’t Yoongi be resting?
Does his craft truly mean that much?
Well, shit. You gotta respect his work ethic, that’s for damn sure. Because you would sequester yourself to your bedroom and have endless dates with your television if you were sporting a good jab or two. This music thing must mean more to Yoongi than you previously thought. And who are you to step on that dream?
Suddenly, all thoughts and concerns flee from the kiss on your cheek.
“I’ll stay if you stay,” he says, turning to move the pan and scrunching his face with a grunt. Fuck.
“I…” Shit, you were gonna go back to the house anyway. And from Yoongi’s smartass smirk, you can tell he already knew that. “Just need to check on him, too. And he doesn’t have a car right now, so. I should at least give him a ride.”
“Figured.” In a move so domestic your head spins, Yoongi turns your body and gently pats your butt. “Now go sit. Let’s eat and figure this out.”
—
—
As you devour a flawless meal and clean your dishes, you plan out the day. You’ll head home and check on your brother while Yoongi heads to the studio, and then you’ll rendezvous with your friends to hang out until he’s done with work. They’re already lighting up your phone like no one’s business—especially Yuri.
Yoongi flicks the sink off before you both head to his bedroom, and you melt at the way he slowly wraps his arms around your front halfway there, all four of your legs slowing to close the rest of the distance.
What’s he doing? This is joyfully new, but you have a pretty tight deadline. Warming his forearm and your own cheeks, you chuckle out, “We have to hustle, old man.”
“You hustle me all the time,” he accuses into your shoulder blade, kissing its ridge and making you reconsider walking out the door entirely. “Lemme have this.”
Your second laugh is more subdued, and you’re right between his bed and desk when you lift both hands to hold him close. “You have everything I got,” you wisp into his skin, planting your lips once, twice before you feel his arms press further in. “So this is nothing.”
Seconds and silence slide by, the delicate veil of early morning still hovering around the room. When Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you make to turn and face him.
But you’re stopped before your heart skips.
“I could stay like this all day,” he admits, voice so low it rumbles through your bones. “And it’d be perfect.”
“What, you don’t wanna see my face?” You joke with a giggle. “Rude, but that’s fine.”
Yoongi only buries his nose further, his glasses sliding against your skin peeking from his shirt. “I’m much braver right here, doll.”
Oh.
The leap your heart does is more of a dive, plummeting into the seafoam swirling around your feet. All the words you want to respond with jump off right after, leaving you with nothing but the clouds in your eyes.
You don’t quite know what he means by that. But it feels like those six words hold the weight of a thousand, so you simply let another kiss on his smooth forearm linger. “Do you want me to go with you?”
A puff of laughter warms you right through and, despite his earlier admission, Yoongi does slowly spin you around.
And when you follow, you realize you’re much braver when you aren’t facing him, too.
“It’s not that, babe,” he says through a dashing curve. “But the offer was cute.”
“I take it back then.”
“Damn!”
Both of your laughs whoosh out and collide, sweeping as Yoongi pinches your side and you flinch towards the bed. “You fucker—!”
Before you know it, your back hits a comforter before a weight presses your stomach, emotions clashing as you’re elated and shy and immediately concerned for your boyfriend’s side. “Baby, be careful—”
Lips capture yours, sucking up your warning before a hand slides under your head. Sighing, you arch into his chest, feeling the weight of his chains slip across your breasts.
Euphoria isn’t an adequate enough word to describe how you feel. Where there used to be flutters in your ribcage now reside strong, powerful wing beats, gusts of want and desire lifting you off the ground and launching you into clear skies. Starlight of every color exists within each kiss you share, and your fingers feebly grab his tee to keep you from falling back down to earth.
“If we don’t go now,” Yoongi rasps before sliding his mouth against yours, “We’re never going anywhere again.”
“I know,” you whisper, willingly letting him kiss you once more, “Is that a promise?”
“Fuck, I wish.”
You do, too. But you know you’re running out of time for what you need to do. And weren’t you just saying you had to respect his aspirations? Shit, you really do need to snap out of it. “Come on,” you order with a pat to his chest. “We have all week to do this. We got time.”
Turns out, you’re still amongst the heavens. The way Yoongi’s looking at you? This is the closest you’ll ever get to being held by an angel.
Did he get more handsome overnight? Or is it the light in his eyes sustained since his confession in the kitchen? You don’t quite know, and you may never pinpoint why, but the tug he has on your heart spans space and time.
And you’ll run through both forever to keep meeting him again and again.
Burns prick your eyes, but he mercifully stands before he can catch any evidence of your yearning.
Just like that, the two of you bounce back to getting ready, with him sliding notebooks and headphones in a backpack while you change into your own clothes. As you sling your bag over a shoulder, he reaches for the closest hoodie, and you wordlessly make your way to the front door.
You really do hope he gets looked at today. But just like the calm after a storm, you want to encourage him gently rather than shove him out. At least he seems receptive to your gentle suggestions.
But after you ask one more time and he simply nods, you lower your eyes to his kicks. “Sorry if I’m nagging. I’d just worry less if you went right away, that’s all.”
“You aren’t nagging, babe.” Your freshly bloomed lover reaches out to hold your wrist, smoothing a rough thumb over your skin. Fucking hell, you can’t help but frown at the gashes and cuts marring his knuckles. “I’ll go as soon as I can.”
Not just his hands, but his face. His ribs. And maybe other places you haven’t even seen yet.
You don’t wanna leave his side.
But you have to head out before your brother leaves. Things need to get patched up before he flies out into more stress, and you owe him an apology for walking out when he was still aching. Based on Yoongi’s physical state? Your brother could be hiding some big wounds and you didn’t even wanna talk to him.
However. Was last night necessary? Absolutely. You cannot entertain the possible outcomes had you not tried hard enough to get through Yoongi’s door. His eyes were so dulled, his hands felt so cold. What would have happened if you didn’t force yourself inside?
Why was that guitar smashed to pieces?
This is also why you refuse to leave. So many questions, so many things you still don’t know. Like what all happened when you were separated? And how in the hell is this man in love with you?
“I don’t wanna go,” you confess, instantly encased in his arms and warmth. “I’d much rather keep kissing you.”
“True,” he says with a resigned huff, shifting his glasses with an adorable nose scrunch. If only he didn’t have so many little red lines of conflict on his face. “But we both have stuff to take care of, so let’s get all that done first.”
“Ugh, fine.” Your groan is more teasing than serious, and Yoongi’s laugh is nothing but understanding.
Damn. You still feel it. You really don’t wanna go. Be it the rawness of last night still on your skin, or the confessions still on your tongues, you just wanna stay by his side. “Sorry,” you breathe out, lacing your fingers to pepper love along his strong, reddened ridges. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna leave you right now.”
Walking out of Yoongi’s door just doesn’t feel right. Even if he’s right there and will be following you out. Is this feeling normal? Are you supposed to feel this tightly woven to someone? Because the stitching between your hearts has only gotten stronger in the tempest of last night, as if you bonded together just to hold on for dear life.
Maybe that’s exactly what happened. And it’s exactly why you can barely take one step out of his place.
“Then don’t.”
Not one second passes before your chin is held, and lips slide so tenderly across yours that they may as well melt into your touch. Your reaction is quickly swooped into his mouth, and everything falls away as you let him seize your every thought. Lightning from last night zips out of your limbs, your toes, your fingers clasping his loose tee.
You might just cry where you stand.
How have his kisses gotten even better? How have you never felt this way even though you’ve done this far more times than you were ever supposed to? It should be impossible, and yet, this man finds even more ways to astound you.
Yoongi slips a hand over your cheek, giving one more beautiful push of his lips as he confesses, “I don’t wanna leave you, either.”
And your breath stutters onto his features. “You, too?”
Slow, he kisses your cheek, the clear rim of his specs skimming your nose. When he draws back, you look right into his eyes, wondering why he’s watching your mouth instead.
“Me, too.” Yoongi kisses your other side with a quiet peck. “Fuck, me, too.”
You fucking hate what you have to do, but you don’t have a choice.
With one last lingering kiss, you both gather enough courage to set out and do what you must.
—
—
Your house is already a flurry of activity as you enter to see your brother in the kitchen, packing his leather duffle that’s a constant companion on his trips.
Of course. The memory of him purchasing the lavish accessory pops into your head every time you watch him scurry around, dimples ever present on his proud cheeks. It’s almost enough to make you smile yet again.
But you can’t when the same face is currently scratched to hell. Just like Yoongi’s, if not worse.
Fuck, is he really gonna travel looking like that?
“Hey,” he rasps out, still fighting off slumber. “You’re back earlier than I thought.”
“Wanted to check on you before we left.” Fuck, your voice sounds like it’s being forced through a clogged pipe. Loosen the hell up! “And dude. Put some bandaids on, yeah?”
“Yeah, just give me a sec. Making sure I have everything before my ride gets here.”
“Huh?” He got a ride? You’re here now so you can take him to the airport. “You sure you don’t need me to drive you?”
“Yeah, it’s all good. I didn’t know you were coming back.”
Shit. His body seems just as angular as it did last night. Which, quite frankly, could still be from what went down in the lot.
Because even though you see both men banged up, you suddenly realize you don’t actually know what all transpired.
After all, there wasn’t much talk of it after you walked into the tempest of Yoongi’s living room.
Of course, you aren’t gonna bring it up just this second. There are other things to ask about and make sure of first. “Wallet? Phone? Passport?”
“Yup, yup, uhh.. Yup.”
Zippers sling in the quiet morning air as you continue, “And you’re coming back on Friday, right?”
“Oh.. Nah.” When you start crossing the kitchen, your brother hauls his leather bag over his better shoulder. Honestly, no one would be able to tell the other one’s bruised with his suit on. That thing damn well covers everything except the cuts on his face and hands. “Saturday.”
You pause in your journey to the medicine cabinet. “Wait.. Saturday? The release party’s on Friday.”
“Yeah.. I know.”
What the fuck? That’s bullshit they’re keeping him longer than they have to. Struggling to understand how corporate can keep your brother on a leash and get away with it, you urge, “Tell them to at least let you go home a day early. Don’t you wanna support your friends?”
“You mean Yoongi?”
A zing of terror zips through your eyes, freezing every vein in an instant.
The fuck was that question? Never mind. Stay calm stay calm stay fucking calm. “Uhh, yeah, he’s one of them? But the other guys, too, right? I know you care about them and this is huge.”
Mercifully, your sibling just shakes his head and waves you off. “Don’t you think I already tried? I don’t wanna miss it but I don’t have a choice. Conference schedule is pretty tight and I’m heading the panel on Friday.”
“Is it in the morning? You can fly out after—”
“Why are you fighting so hard?”
“Why aren’t you fighting harder!”
Okay, what in the hell is happening right now? Screw optics and how this must look for you, your brother needs to be there. Him and Yoongi are the tightest of friends, the most ride or die duo you’ve ever seen. You can’t picture a timeline where he misses this monumental moment, and it’s starting to really upset you that he’s barely trying.
“You think I’m not fighting for it?”
“I certainly don’t think you’re trying enough—”
“Alright, you know what?” Hard steps surge forward as you stand rigid, a duffle hastily dumped onto tile. “You don’t know what I’ve tried. You don’t even know if I even told him yet.”
Fucking shit. You hold his stare before turning away, tossing out the idea of bandages entirely and searing footsteps into the hallway—
“Or do you.”
Before icing over with the unforgiving frost of zero gravity space.
Slow, you turn, not quite facing him but not backing down, either. “…Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You talkin’? What else has he been doing to you?”
Oh. Fuck that.
Doing to you?
Fuck all of this. This is too much to handle right now and you know you’re gonna snap if he keeps pushing because you are not having this conversation right before he leaves. You’ve already thought about this before, right? You cannot fuck with his head right before business trips because he needs to be on and locked in.
But now he’s fucking with your temper and those are some choice fucking words pulled out of his ass.
You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately threatened this man to his face and meant it before, and it tears a sharp corner of your heart, “You better be very careful. With whatever you wanna say next.”
The air proves too thick to slice. While your body stands aflame, your brother is iced over, brimming with an energy that damn near takes physical form. “All I’m saying is? I find out some fucking bullshit is going on—”
No no no, not now.
Reacting fast is your only instinct, brain haywire and fizzling fizzling boiling. Harsh, you spin on your heel and shout the first thing you can think of, “Oh, come on—”
“You better hope to god you’re ready for what’s coming—”
“Stop!” Fuck fuck fuck, this is so frustrating because your head is exploding and your body is screaming to just tell him already. Fuck the consequences at this point this is ludicrous.
Doing to you? Yoongi? How dare he speak about his best friend like that how dare he accuse him without outright saying the words all you have to do is tell your brother how wrong he’s got it.
But you can’t be the one. Yoongi said he would, and he probably took months to get to that point of strength—and healing, from what you can tell.
This is between them. Them. You have to honor that, as much as you wanna just confess everything now and deal with it yourself.
But goddamn your brother is pulsing with anger and it’s leaking into your own charged air.
What does he think is happening? Does he think Yoongi’s just, what, playing you? He’s wrong. He’s so wrong. Yoongi’s been nothing but the best thing that’s ever happened to you and shit your heart hurts because…
Your brother is valid in thinking that.
How foolish. Didn’t you guard your heart from Yoongi for the longest? Didn’t everything start because you figured you knew who he was because of his reputation? You got him all wrong, too. So how can you be mad at your brother for doing the same?
Fuck, think. Just think before someone gets hurt.
Because if you aren’t careful, someone—or multiple someones—will get hurt in seconds. You have to bear the pain alone right now. To protect them both, you have to keep your trembling mouth shut.
And? You have to admit that something isn’t fair here. Not to you, not to Yoongi, but to him. Last night was rough as fuck but, while you both got to have raw, beautiful closure, the one standing in front of you had to go to sleep in an empty house.
So chill the fuck out.
Breathing to cool down, you tense and loosen, tense and loosen. “I get it. You’re angry, and you have a lot going on. But,” you bite down on your lip to keep going. “We’re talking about something else. We’re talking about you, and I’m still pissed you even let those guys goad you into a fight. What are we, twelve?”
Seething, your sibling takes the switch of pace. But it is not what you want to hear. “Are you seri—? What the hell was I supposed to do? That son of a bitch grabbed you—”
“I know,” you recoil. “Don’t tell me like you were there, because you weren’t.”
Finally—finally—those angry lines in his face vanish.
But they make way for something much worse than anger. Because your older brother, someone that’s been there for you your whole life..
Looks absolutely stricken over the one time he wasn’t.
Damn it.
Regretful, you drop your shoulders in exhaustion and quiet compromise. When you continue, your voice is much softer, “But I told you: they were. Your friends, they were there because they knew you wanted that. Jimin got me away, Yoongi took me home and stayed.”
You really have got to stop saying his name like you love him. It could start becoming too obvious.
Shuddering, you shift your weight, folding your arms and shrinking into yourself.
That night, despite Yoongi’s best and most gentle efforts, still clings to where that loser touched you at Dalo. You hate that you haven’t gotten over it, and you loathe the way you still rub over the same spot. Over, and over. “What did you want him to do? Leave me here?”
“No.”
“Exactly. And he didn’t.” You adjust your stance again, making an impromptu gamble as you decide to let some truth leak out. Because your brother is owed at least this much. “And fine, you wanna know something? We do talk more because of it.”
Your brother’s head snaps up, and you brace. Because if you show any shred of weakness or hesitation, he’ll see right through your weak attempt to hide most of the truth,
“But don’t ever accuse him of doing anything to me. That was fucked up to say and you know it.”
“Fuck.” In agreement, he rubs his hair back. “It was. I’m sorry.”
“Trust me,” you swallow, hating that this is how things have to be for now. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s never.. Never done anything to me, anyway.”
It’s not a lie. Everything he’s done has been with you. For you. Because of you.
But your heart’s in anguish as it sinks. Because that expression on your older sibling’s face can only be one thing.
Pure. Utter. Relief.
Fire singes your eyes before you can quell the flame. It’s the hardest technical truth to swallow.
Sure, he doesn’t have anything to worry about as far as you being safe. And on top of that, he doesn’t have to worry about any fake shit because Yoongi confessed to you last night.
But as far as his best friend sleeping with and now dating his sister behind his back? That is still very much sitting right in the center of the table.
And now you’re starting to see just how fucked all three of you are as soon as you sit down to eat the truth.
But Yoongi said he’d be the one to tell, so he will.
This feeling is so fucking miserable, though.
In the end, your brother is effectively convinced, raking a hand across his head and sighing. “Jimin told me what all went down at Dalo, I just… Last night was… Fucked up.”
“Well, yeah.”
“No. See, this is just like what you said to me. You can’t say it like you were there.”
It’s your stomach’s turn to twist. “So? You were scratched and bruised to hell, and Y…” Shut up, shut up. You’re not supposed to know about the state of anyone else. “And you were… quieter.”
“Because of what happened, dude.”
You blink. “What… What happened?”
Your brother looks at you—really looks at you.
And suddenly, your gut flares in terror, storming in an instant across your abdomen.
“That bitch pulled something on us.”
Your heart.
It’s in freefall.
“Wait… What?” You can’t even form more than one syllable at a time, your legs turning gelatinous and knees starting to give out. “No… What are you…?”
What the fuck did he just say? That bitch pulled a what?
Your sibling slowly walks toward you once again, watching like he’s just waiting for you to say anything. Do anything.
But you’re a complete statue because all you can think about is the horror of something happening and the relief that nothing happened all at once.
Was Yoongi too scared to mention that part? Is this why he was holding back and shaking every time he reached out to touch you? Even this morning, he was so…
You’ve never seen him like that. Is this why?
Your mind is swirling and crashing, overlapping each passing thought and scream running through your head. “I’m so sorry,” you hitch out, “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Didn’t wanna scare you,” he sighs out. Putting both hands on his hips, your brother stops feet away, visibly still shook as he pierces wooden planks with his stare. “But he pulled it right before Yoongi… and if it weren’t…Fuck.”
Burns flare and slice through your eyes when he has to pause. What is he trying to say? Pulled what?
Before Yoongi what?
Your brother continues, and your throat tightens. “If it weren’t for some random ass sirens, I… Things could’ve been so different.”
What the fuck is happening. What the hell are you hearing?
“It was probably dumb as fuck. But I was so fucking angry,” he grits out, watery eyes crushed looking your way. “So fucking mad at how he was talking about you, I.. Walked right up to him and told him to fuck off.”
You can’t even breathe.
“I still feel it,” he quietly adds, fingers pressed against his side. “Right here.”
“Fuck,” you finally choke out, eyes on fucking fire.
“But all I knew was to keep you all safe,” he says, with hardened resolve and a wobbly chin. “And that’s exactly what I did. I did that shit, even if that meant—”
Tears fling out of your eyes, flowing hot down your cheeks because you wouldn’t want any of them to go out that way. Nothing happened nothing happened nothing happened and yet your body is acting as if something did and it hurts.
Your brother is there as soon as you crumple forward, letting you bury your head in his chest and sob your heart out. For him, for his friends, and for all the time you had with the man you love so, so dearly.
If anything happened to your brother before you came clean… If anything happened before you and Yoongi could even…
Suddenly, you feel equal weights of guilt. For running out on your brother. And for almost walking out on Yoongi.
You decide an apology is in order for both of them, and all the understanding in the world for Yoongi’s frosted demeanor as soon as you get him alone again.
And you are one hundred percent going to tell your brother everything once he’s back.
The tears cannot stop, and you’re sure you are crying unimpeded in a pressed and primmed suit. “I’m so sorry,” you keep repenting like a prayer. “This is all my fault.”
“No—”
“You almost—”
“Hey, stop.” He yanks you back, both of your faces soaked with saltwater. “What did I say before? I threw the first swing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But it led to all this, I just.. I just feel so fucking stupid.”
“Don’t. Hey, look at me.” Firm but gentle, he holds you at arm’s length, forcing you to face him. “Maybe we’re both stupid, but you weren’t the idiot. I was.”
You feel so many conflicting things in your soul.
What would you have done if Yoongi was in critical condition? What would you have done differently if your brother was instead? Are they the same? Are the two situations really so different anymore?
No they aren’t they aren’t they aren’t.
“Please don’t do that again,” you shake out. “Even if it was for me, if I ever lost you, I...”
“You know I can’t promise anything.” He furrows his brows when you eye him with anger and sadness. “But nothing like that is happening again. Especially with the same dudes.”
“Okay.”
A vicious tornado of emotions sends your whole body into agonizing pain. This isn’t what you expected at all, and it’s causing your limbs to lock at the bends. Too many scenarios are jangling about yet you can’t ask for specifics because that will just make it even more real.
A nightmare is somehow better once you know it ends with you waking up. “I’m… gonna need some time to process everything.”
“I know. And I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but… You deserve to know the things I get into.”
Ah.
The irony is not lost on you.
“At least, if they involve you. We learned our lesson. You were right to tell us off.”
God. You feel numb.
“Thanks,” you murmur, suddenly immensely tired. “I think I need more sleep.”
A blaring honk sounds outside the house, and you both flinch at the noise.
And your throat burns at the way your brother instinctively swept you behind his back.
When you realize what it is, you know what has to come next.
And he’s the first to react as he turns to face you again, “Alright. I’m heading out, just remember to go get my baby when she’s fixed, yeah?”
“Do you have to go?”
Wait.
The question seems to startle him as much as it does you.
How did you blurt it right out before even registering the words? Why does your heart clench at the sight of those eyes looking so pained?
Why does everything feel so shaky within these walls that were always your home?
“I do,” he says, voice tight. “I’m sorry.”
And why the fuck do you feel sad he’s leaving?
“No, no, it’s.. Of course you have to.” You can’t help the lump in your throat from bobbing, the regret in your limbs as they barely move at your side. “I dunno why I asked, I guess I just..”
There’s no response to your sniffle.
“Sorry for yelling,” you squeak out. “I just feel really queasy.”
For a lot more reasons than one.
“We all made it out,” your brother whispers. “That’s what matters.”
“Will you… Will you at least try to be back for the party?”
The man swallows with his brows knit tight, then attempts to crack the tiniest smile. “You know I will. That’s my guy.”
“Okay.” You nod, sniffling again. After what he just told you? You know he’ll do anything for the ones he loves. “See you there.”
Your brother rubs a comforting palm over your head before turning, heading for the door and grabbing his leather duffle.
When he stops to glance at you one more time, you give a little wave of your hand before watching the door click shut.
Chest caving as you collapse to the ground in tears.
—
—
The need to call Yoongi burns so harshly your fingers damn near set your top aflame.
But he’s at work, and you can’t fuck things up right when you’re approaching the finish line. You almost did with your brother, and that gave you twelve heart attacks in the span of minutes.
Still. Your chest aches so much that a thirteenth could very well be approaching. You don’t even realize you’re bracing the hallway wall for support until you try to stand, back sore and aching from bending so far for so long.
What did your brother mean to say about Yoongi? What did that coward pull on them? Do you even want to know what happened?
Fighting back tears, you reach down for your phone, shakily typing out a message only to erase it. Then again. And again.
And again.
Giving up, you forcefully swallow all your worries, cringing at the bitterness of the unknown and the burnt molasses of hidden truths.
It’s going to be okay. No matter what you think or imagine in your head, they made it out, they made it out, they are all alive.
That’s the only reason you can move forward, each step getting you from your room. To your bathroom.
And back again.
—
—
After showering, you feel lighter and refreshed, though the soreness between your legs has yet to leave.
But you wouldn’t want it any other way, as it’s another reminder of Yoongi’s apparent brush with survival. His broken living room spurned the creation of your bond, your devotion to him as he confessed before you gave him your utmost trust in his sheets.
The end is so close. As soon as this week is over, you’ll rip the last bit of peel from your pair of tangerines, baring all truths to your brother and facing the consequences.
Finally ready, you head to your car, opening your text threads with a plan: start slow.
Start with something that can be interpreted neutrally if anyone saw it on his phone screen, especially if your headstrong ex is in the room.
You [12:31pm]: how are you feeling?
Yoongi [12:34pm]: 1 Attachment
You close your door with brows furrowed.
Yoongi’s at the hospital?
That’s not what you expected at all.
Your chest swells with relief knowing he’s there, but you also wanna make sure he’s feeling okay. Especially his mental state after whatever the fuck your brother just dropped on you before leaving.
Goddamn, that’s going to gnaw at your brain until you find the right time and right amount of courage to ask about it. Because it’s very possible Yoongi won’t tell you.
Because it’s probably something he knows you won’t like.
Fuck.
You [12:34pm]: Loved an Attachment
You [12:34pm]: thank you for listening🤍 still sore?
Yoongi [12:35pm]: Yeah, but not bad. Just there.
Wait. He’s not at the studio. That means you can—
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you slowly say as you pull out into the street. “I’m driving now so this is easier.”
“Course. You going to Tae’s?”
“Maybe. I’m going to Yuri’s first.” You swallow, realizing that you didn’t tell him about what you let slip before driving over. “I.. Told her. About you.”
There’s a little bit of silence on the line, just some adjustments and muffled speaker sounds. “Sorry, just writing this down. What’s wrong with that?”
You huff through your nose. Gotta be those patient forms that always take forever to fill out. “Oh. Just more and more people knowing, is all.”
“Everyone’s gonna know eventually.”
You hold back a small smile. Because he’s right. “Yeah. I’m just tired of this feeling.”
“Like you’re hiding something.”
It’s your turn for silence. He doesn’t know how accurately that was played out today. The only answer you can provide is a curt, “Exactly.”
“Same.”
Wings beat around your heart again.
He wants this. Yoongi really, really wants this. And years ago, that outcome wouldn’t have even crossed your mind as an option.
“Thank you for going, baby.”
“The guys made me.”
You hum. “Which ones.”
After a pause, you hear a puff of amusement. “All of them at some point today, actually.”
All of them? Does that include your brother? Did they talk about the trip already?
Your laugh is bittersweet. “Well. Glad to know you can be forced by everyone else except me.”
“Hey, I was already gonna go because of you!” Yoongi quietly retorts, and you giggle at the pout in his words. “Just wanted to get a headstart on work first.”
You were right. He really does wanna go all out for his musical endeavors.
It’s extremely admirable, and wildly attractive, but it does come to a point. “As much as I love your passion, old man, I wanna keep you upright.”
He laughs soft into the line, and you think you can listen to that specific sound on an infinite loop. “That’s fair.”
“How long is it gonna take, you think?”
“Dunno. But I’ll keep myself busy until I’m out.”
Of course he will. You don’t doubt he won’t waste any time. Didn’t he bring journals in his backpack? You wouldn’t be surprised if he wrote ten thousand songs before being called in. “Just call me if you need anything, please?”
“Of course, babe.”
“Thank you,” you say with utmost sincerity. “If only my brother would be less stubborn and get checked, too.”
“He’ll probably do it once he gets there.”
“Did you convince him?”
“Nah. But once he knows I did, he’ll do it.”
“Figures.” You scoff. “Okay, I’m almost there. Let me know how it goes.”
“K. Bye, doll.”
You didn’t ask him what went down. But it’s not the time nor place, and you have plenty of chances this week to figure out when that would be—if at all.
“Talk soon.”
—
—
For a normally bustling household, Yuri’s house is quiet.
So it’s not shocking when you walk into the kitchen and see all your friends glance your way, slowly vacating their chairs with eyes never leaving your face. Even Reia is on high alert.
Did Yuri tell her? Did Yuri tell anyone else?
No. She’s a talker and loves spilling, but she promised. And when she promises something, you know you can trust her to keep it.
It’s what pours emotion in your voice as you meekly greet, “Hey, guys—”
A crushing hug closes your throat. Yuri’s the one that gets to you first, with Reia and Dominique waiting their turns to offer you healing, relieved embraces.
“What happened?”
“Scared us half to death.”
Dom puts you at arm’s length to give a once over, noting your face rubbed raw and eyes still a little bloodshot. Thankfully, her pupils hold more concern than disappointment. “You good?”
Your eyes wobble alongside your smile, and you think it’s enough proof. “More than that,” you still decide to whisper, and your heart beats again at her reaction.
“Thank god. I was ready to kick your ass if you weren’t.”
Heading up to Yuri’s room, you all wait until the door is swung back before mounting her canopy bed, sitting in a tight circle as you divulge everything.
Well. Almost everything.
You tell them that Yoongi is the one you’ve been seeing, how you went to check on him last night in a panic, and the terrifying reason why. When you mention the fight after the basketball game, all three of your friends erupt in questions, and you have to assure them everything turned out okay. Honestly, you also do this to assure yourself, too.
“So… Your brother’s just fine with all of this?” Reia asks, not noticing the tick of Dom’s jaw.
“Well,” you start with a higher pitch, earning a pair of groans. “He doesn’t exactly know yet—”
“Yup. He’s gonna murder him.”
“Yeah, should we say our condolences now or..”
“How long has this been going on?” Reia fires off another question that digs into your chest. “Was he the one you were seeing the whole time?”
“Yes,” you admit with a sigh. “I should’ve told you guys from the beginning, but. The whole thing just felt so delicate. But! We just started making things official recently, so..”
Dom turns your way. “Official how?”
Well. Here goes everything.
With a shaky breath, and lingering feelings from the time it happened, you reveal with watery eyes, “Yoongi… Told me he loves me.”
Both Yuri and Reia react in yelps, Dom’s gaze lowering as the girls reach to grab your hands.
Wait. What’s going on with her? She’s the one that knows the most, she’s the one that covered for you all those months ago. She has to be the one that is the least surprised at all this.
Blinking, you note to confront her about it later. Right now, you’re too focused on trying not to cry as your friends tumble out questions and support,
“He said it? Did you say it first or did he?”
“How did it happen! Oh, I’m so happy for you, babe—”
“Thank—thank you, Yuri,” you squeeze out as she hugs you close. “I couldn’t believe it, but he just.. Said it. We weren’t even doing anything, I was just.. Looking up what injuries he could have..”
And he confessed in the most Yoongi fashion he could have.
Looking back, it shouldn’t shock you at all. He’s always found ways to sweep you off your proverbial feet, so why would a confession plucked from the heavens be any different?
She lets you go before wiping her eyes, Reia and even Dom now sporting watery pupils, too.
“As much as I’m upset at you for not telling us, I’ve never been so happy for you.” When Yuri’s features crease in another sob, you sniffle along with the rest. “It’s been so long since you… And you really.. Fuck.”
You know what she’s trying to say, and the realization has your throat constricting so tight.
It’s been forever since you’ve had something like this, someone like this. When you and Jungkook were together, you told him that you loved him before he broke it off.
Sure, you bought the rings together, but he never uttered those words until years after when it didn’t even matter. And all your relationships after his were complete and utter bullshit, so you don’t think you ever even heard those three words and knew them to be true.
Yoongi was the first to ever say them so sincerely.
And that fact makes your ducts burn and burn.
And when Yuri finally speaks, it breaks the dam holding your real deluge back,
“I can’t think of anyone else that deserves to be loved more than you.”
All at once, everything streams out as you hunch forward. The pain of everything you’ve endured, the hopelessness of knowing you’d most likely end up alone, the excruciating prospect of a future that you never deemed bright, or peaceful, or comforting.
And to think that even this man could’ve been snatched away from you in a snap? Even more tears overlap with the ones you’re shedding, and you can’t even reach out to hug all three beautiful, angelic souls surrounding you with tight arms and sobs because your limbs lock at all bends.
It’s the exact release you need. All your friends supporting you, all the pent up anxiety of last night and today, the truth setting itself free in some capacity—all in the comfort of a plushie-laden bed you only doubted yourself in last time.
Everything’s gonna be alright. It has to be. You’re gonna fight for the ones you love, even if a war between them is inevitable.
It takes a few minutes of heavy silence for you all to separate, swiping and rubbing tears while letting out happy sniffles.
When you thank them for being understanding, they assure you it’s okay. And when you say you’re going to tell your brother soon, a force from the doorway has all of you leaping from lilac sheets,
“Tell him what?”
Jia stands firm with a laundry basket at her hip, and Yuri scoffs at her older sister for barging in. “A knock would’ve been nice!”
Fuck!
You can’t tell Jia of all people. If you spill anything about Yoongi, she’s one hundred percent going to tell your brother. They’re the same age, and run in pretty tight circles, so of course you are not going to risk it.
But you can tell her something else you’re going to tell your older sibling, so you fire out a half-truth,
“Tell him not to pick any other fights that could get him killed.”
Jia’s eyes zoom to your wrecked face, and she drops the laundry with haste before asking, “What happened? When? Tell me now.”
Huh. Maybe your brother has a type, if he’s still into Jia like he said before.
You feel a little spark in your chest as you let her know they all got in a scuffle after the basketball game, and another pang as she immediately abandons the room and clothes with a fierce declaration,
“I’m gonna kill them myself!”
“Don’t worry, I already hounded my brother!” You call out after her, sighing as Yuri shakes her head with a smile. “She gets like that when she’s really worried, huh.”
“Yeah..” Your friend leans to look around you, noticing the basket left alone on the ground. “And if she’s super fired up, she drops everything and doesn’t stop until it’s handled. Clearly.”
Maybe both older siblings really are similar.
The firestorm of an interruption seemed to break the tension in the room, with all of you finally relaxing and catching up. When they ask you questions, you answer what you can.
And when you divulge information that has your ears burning, their squeals and yells give you whole new reasons to live.
—
—
After a very comforting lunch Yuri’s mom cooked, you head to the bathroom when your phone suddenly vibrates through your palm.
Huh? That’s weird. You expect the name on your screen to be Taehyung, not Yoongi.
Not that it’s a bad thing. You’ve been waiting to hear from him, so this is a pleasant surprise.
Closing the door to the guest bathroom, you gaze at the calming sage decor with a smile. “Hi, how did it—”
“You’re coming over later, right?”
Oh, shit. Is he okay?
“Yes, baby,” you respond with a soothing lilt, ears perked and body on high alert.
Does he think you aren’t anymore? You both decided on the plans earlier. Surely he knows you’d never just flake on him. “I’m coming back once you’re done with work, remember?”
There’s an uncomfortable pause on the line, which makes your boyfriend’s next question jab you so far in the lungs you can’t breathe,
“…Can it be now?”
Shit.
Just like Jia earlier, you drop every plan you have to the wayside. You’re sure that Taehyung will understand, and you already got through the biggest conversation you needed to with your friends.
“Of course,” you whoosh out. “Lemme just say bye and I’ll go.”
“Take your time.” A small shuffling interrupts. “It’ll take me a bit to get back.”
“Okay. See you there.”
The strained urgency in his voice makes your hair stand on end, so you vacate the bathroom to inform the girls that you gotta go—but not without a quick head tilt towards Dom, who follows you outside and into the afternoon sun.
—
—
You wait until you’re next to your car on the street, turning with a concerned expression and jittery nerves, “What’s up with you? Did I do something wrong?”
Turns out, you read Dominique correctly. Her jaw locks before loosening, and it reminds you of the time she confronted you about Yoongi before. God, how much has changed since then. That feels like ages and ages ago.
“It’s not about you,” your best friend clears the air and the tightness in your shoulders. “I’m just.. Glad he came around.”
“Yoongi?” When Dom nods, you blink. “Wait, what?”
“At your house that night.. After he left your room, we had—I dunno, a heart-to-heart.” She sighs, flicking braids over her shoulder. You note to compliment the beads she chose this time, because they remind you of summer and simpler times. “I might’ve pressured him a bit, and.. I think he wanted to tell me that he loved you. All the way back then.”
Something in your heart stutters, and you can only repeat your last question, “What?”
“Yeah. Something about needing to do something first,” she continues, holding your gaze with perfect brows furrowed in sunlight. “But I could tell he was damn serious about whatever it was. And if he was willing to do it for you? I let it go.”
Your mind whirls.
Yoongi was already in love with you back then? Is that why he needed to let you go? To deal with whatever he had to do?
One side of you breaks thinking he had to go through all that alone; the other side is screaming at his past self for not even giving you a choice. What did he go through? What did he have to do?
Now you really have to see him. Immediately.
“Thank you, Dom,” you rush out while opening your door. “I’m just happy it’s over.”
“The hell it’s not.” Shooting you a glare that heats the oncoming breeze, she reminds, “It’s not over until your brother knows. And based on everything that’s happened? That conversation is not gonna go over well.”
A dark, simmering boil starts in your stomach, and you’re already feeling queasy again. Tightening your door handle, you gulp hard. “I know.”
“Trust me, I’m happy for you both. I am.” Both hands find her hips as she levels a gaze that you really, really don’t enjoy. “But I’m gonna be honest, I think this is gonna ruin their friendship for good.”
Both of your lungs clamp shut.
“Please don’t say that,” you beg, “I’m gonna fight for all of us. I will.”
“I don’t doubt that, babe. Hey, uh uh, come here.” Reaching out, she gives you a tight hug just when you feel fragile again.
“Listen to me. I don’t doubt that,” she says into your shoulder. “I’m just here to be realistic. Just don’t be shocked if that’s how it goes. We’ll be here for you no matter what, too.”
“Okay,” you say with a scrunched face into her scent. God, she always smells so good, and it’s almost enough to calm you down. Almost almost almost. “Thank you. But I’m not giving up.”
“That’s my girl.” She squeezes you one more time. “I love you.”
With eyes searing over, you choke and grip her tighter. “I love you, too.”
—
—
Yoongi’s door warms your back as you wait for him to show.
But there’s a good chance it can just be your volcanic anxiety.
Ever since your arrival, you’ve paced, you’ve gnawed on your lips, you’ve had to shake the nerves out of your hands.
And over and over, you’ve strained your neck to look for your favorite cat, because you could sincerely use even a glimpse of her right now.
While she doesn’t end up showing, Yoongi rounds the nearest corner minutes after your last desperate scan.
Fuck, he’s so handsome.
Even now, as he simply walks toward you with a backpack slung over his shoulder, you watch with undying yearning to feel those flowing bangs over his forehead. You’d even settle for a single touch of his cheeks, one of them currently sporting a thin bandage.
But the closer Yoongi gets, the quicker your admiration morphs into concern. There’s a deep bend in his brows that you can’t decipher, and his fist is balled pretty tight.
Seriously, what happened? He looks so troubled that you slowly push off the doorway to ask,
“Baby, what’s—”
A bag hits the ground before you’re swooped into a kiss so electric your lips spark.
Him. Him, him, and more him. For the love of everything you don’t understand what’s happening but you kiss Yoongi back with everything you have, arms slinging around his strong shoulders and tugging him closer because he clearly needed this.
And fuck if you didn’t need it just as much. Screw it if anyone sees you. This is all you want and you’ll stay right here until he pulls away.
When he finally does, both of you swallow to catch your breaths, and your soul glimmers when his forehead meets yours.
“Hi, baby,” you whisper to his exhales. “Missed you, too.”
Silent, your lover kisses your forehead before hugging you close, and you’re more sure of your prediction than ever. Something is bothering him.
He doesn’t look worse, at least. But there’s clearly something off and he’s not hiding it. His lack of words is loud enough.
“Let’s go inside,” you quietly suggest. “I would’ve gone in already but I don’t have a key.”
He nods, fishing out his keyring to let you both inside.
When you set your bags down and slip off your shoes, it’s only seconds before you’re softly pulled into a hug again, surprising yet so, so welcoming.
Even only after a few hours, you’ve missed the fuck out of him. Which makes all of this an outright dream.
“Sorry,” Yoongi finally murmurs against your shoulder. “I just…”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” You stroke a hand along his hair, massaging his scalp and loving how soft it feels. The windswept strands fall back into place as you keep running your fingers through. “Did you at least get your appointment?”
“Yeah, I did.” He buries his face further. “Nothing bad. Just can’t lift anything heavy for a couple days.”
“Good. That’s easy to manage,” you whisper back into his tee, feeling the chill of lingering air conditioning and body warmth all at once. “Is something else bothering you?”
“Not exactly.” Whatever that means. “I’ll tell you about it later. Just wanted this, and you.”
Oh. That’s…
“I’m here now, love,” you assure with a melting heart, wondering what happened to cause this behavior.
Is it because of last night? Or something that happened today? You’re anxious all over again, but from the way Yoongi’s acting, your worries are second to his. “Have you eaten yet?”
He shakes his head, only pulling you closer with not a word from his lips.
And from this point on, you make a silent vow to yourself. Whatever Yoongi needs, you’re going to take care of him.
No matter what, these next few days are all about him—a minuscule sacrifice in comparison to everything he’s done for you, whether you knew about it or not.
“I’ll make you something then. Come on.”
When you walk, you slip your hand down his arm to hold his hand, and your lead into his kitchen is short.
“Any requests?” You cheerfully ask as you spare a smile over your shoulder. “We can do… Something light…”
Only to see him staring back with nothing but a lingering sense of longing.
Okay.
You need to get to the bottom of this now.
Stopping right over linoleum, you leave no room for arguments, “Yoongi. Tell me what’s wrong.”
He blinks before his gaze meets the floor. So you’re confused when he simply, quietly..
Laughs?
“It’s not that something’s wrong,” he slowly starts, a shy smile carving his features. “For the first time in my life, nothing’s wrong.”
Your heart beats extra loud.
“But it’s too much to explain right now.” His eyes rise to meet yours. “Just know that I’m so in love with you.”
Oh.
“And I want you to know that every day I live.”
Fuck.
Your body responds before you can say anything, lips connecting to remove any need for speech. The knowledge of them all staring death in the face last night makes this confession sear your insides, and you can’t help but kiss him like you’ll never get to again.
Yanking him back, you spin on your heel until he flings into the kitchen, clutching your wrists before gripping your jaw with both hands.
His mouth heats on yours, his glasses the only barrier between your skin. Everything sizzles from your head to your toes, and you both bang into a countertop before—
“Fuck, ouch.”
“Shit, you okay?”
Yoongi rubs his side with one eye pinched shut, a corner of his teeth present. “Yeah. Worth it, though.”
“Be serious,” you reprimand. Looks like he’s gonna have to take it easy, which means no going at it like animals until he’s on the mend. “No more until you feel better, yeah?”
“Says who?”
“Babe.”
His deadly pout almost breaks your resolve. “Fine.”
But you can wait. You’re sure it won’t take long, and for this man? You’ll wait however long you need to.
Besides, there’s plenty of things you can do in the meantime that don’t require running into hard objects.
“Good. Now let’s…” You turn away to get started before you’re held, and pulled back into yet another embrace.
What the hell is happening today? Your lungs and your melting pile of a brain can only take so much. It’s beautifully overwhelming how Yoongi can’t seem to let you go, because you’re the one that always loses control.
This whole time, it’s been you that can’t hold yourself back.
So now? Being on the other side? You don’t think you ever want him to restrain himself again.
This time, he moves slow. Sensuously slow, and it would occur to you that he’s finding a very cheeky loophole to your plan if you weren’t so hazy-eyed.
Whatever Yoongi’s doing, you won’t stop him.
Your back touches a counter before Yoongi cages you in, and your lips mold together as perfectly as his body does with yours. Your unhurried strokes match his, and your minds communicate without a single word.
There’s yearning still ever present. But there’s comfort in abundance, and a whole new level of need.
After he pulls away, you can visibly see him drink you in from head to toe.
“You know.. I’m good holding off on all the other shit.” Pulling you in, his lips curve as he confidently declares, “But I’m never gonna stop kissing you.”
His hands, his lips, his words. They all have healing powers, you’re so sure of it. If Yoongi hasn’t yet realized his unending pain has blossomed into a safe haven, you need to let him know no matter what,
“Good.”
There’s still a pining in his eyes, but he lets you free, hand skirting your hip before he walks to his room. “Gonna change then I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to, baby,” you say as you struggle to catch your breath. “I got it.”
Three minutes later, he’s chopping an onion anyway.
But you’re loving how serene everything feels with the two of you prepping and dicing, thumps of knives on wood intertwining in sound before you laugh at his crying over the pesky vegetable. Maybe if he wore contacts instead of specs, he’d be better off.
Not that his choice of eyewear is what you’re complaining about. But those glasses paired with the cream tees he’s been wearing? There will be hell to pay as soon as you get a chance at revenge.
Your pot is set to boil for a bit, so you finally rest against the counter and start a timer on his microwave. “Go ahead,” you gesture to your very handsome cooking partner. “You can sit now.”
“Huh? We’re not done yet.”
“Oh.” Blinking, you tilt your head in confusion because you could’ve sworn you heard him yawn a couple times. “You aren’t tired?”
“I am,” he says before squeezing his eyes, rapid blinks to follow. “But I’m fine here.”
You toss and turn the food around, sprinkling a little more seasoning and hearing the bubbles and fizzes. When you stir a little more, a sudden thought occurs, halting your movements and spinning you around,
“Are you staying there to watch my ass.”
Yoongi’s slow smile gives everything away, but he also makes up for the blatant staring.
“Can’t deny that’s one of the things.” Pushing off the sink, he stands right next to you, slotting a hand behind your neck and angling you for a kiss. “But I meant it earlier. I just…”
You’re completely silent as you watch him slide his eyes from your face to the sizzling food. Whatever he’s thinking about, you’re gonna give him all the room to talk.
“Just like being where you are.”
How you went from almost running out of his door to here, you aren’t quite sure. But you’re grateful for that split second of him deciding to fight for the two of you instead of against, because you really were going to leave.
And you may have taken much, much longer to even try going back.
Your voice is barely heard over the aromatic smell and fizzle, “Good thing I like having you around.” When he smiles again, you let out a breath of a giggle, going back to shuffling the pan around and tilting your head to the fridge. “I put some fruit in there if you wanna eat that, too.”
“I’m down.”
“K.”
Your food is ready soon enough, and the two of you eat while talking about easy topics. Like work and your workplace dynamics, what Yoongi’s team has been working on at the studio.
At one point, your curiosity about the album release party grows from something he says. “Speaking of. The party’s on Friday, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I thought so,” you deflate, setting your bowl down on the table. “Sorry he can’t go.”
“Huh?”
Your body stills. “Wait. Did he not say anything? About his trip being extended?”
So much for nothing in his life being wrong. From the lost look on his face, you may have given him another reason to fold back in on himself. “No.. No, he didn’t.”
Both of you sit in silence.
This could be nothing. Right? That means your brother is confident he can make it so there’s no point in telling Yoongi he’s gonna miss it. Or maybe he’s not trying hard enough and then not being able to say it to his face?
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I thought he told you.”
“It’s okay.” Clearly it’s not. “Not much to do about it now.”
“Yoongi… What if he knows?” At your own question, you stiffen, curling into a proverbial ball. Fear and the sick backfire of fibbing has your mouth going drier than desert air. “What if he actually knows?”
Setting down his chopsticks, Yoongi looks your way, eyes unreadable behind his specs. “If he did, do you think he’d leave us alone?”
He’s got a point. “Guess not.”
“Mm.” Flicking his eyes to the window, he adjusts uncomfortably in his chair. “And I dunno if I mentioned this, but.. He thinks I got back with my ex.”
“Fuck, really?”
“That’s the real reason why he hasn’t been talking to me. Maybe he thinks she’s gonna be there on Friday.”
“Oh.” Your shoulders sag, and sag. Not owning up to your relationship is one thing; Yoongi having to dwell in his previous relationship is another. “Is that… worse?”
“Kinda.” Yoongi’s eyes fall. “Much worse.”
“Shit.” Reaching across wood, you close your hand around his fingers for support. It’s the only thing you can think to do. At least, it’s what you would want if you were in his shoes. “I think you should tell him she won’t be.”
A million seconds later, Yoongi thankfully agrees. “Yeah, I will.”
You feel better. Somewhat. At least a little less nauseous about the possibility of your brother knowing.
But it still sucks knowing that he’s actively avoiding Yoongi because of an ex he used to have.
How bad was it back then if this is the case? What exactly happened? Is this why Yoongi went radio silent on you for weeks?
It seems like he doesn’t even wanna talk about her. So you won’t pry just yet, as much as you wanna know every single thing she’s done wrong so you can hound her through every timeline in existence.
Instead, you talk about a much better subject,
“We should feed my cat now.”
And you quickly laugh at the saucy glint in Yoongi’s eyes.
—
—
Everything is set where it needs to be. Sugar’s food and water fill their respective bowls, your shoulder leans into Yoongi’s good side, and his arm rests around your back as he’s propped up by his banged up doorway.
You remember the first time you saw him lean against the wood like this. Only that time, you were a shell of a girl, waiting with shaky breaths and shaken confidence to hear his response to your inappropriate request.
Who would’ve thought that you’d be on the same side as him all these months later? In his arms, resting a head on his warm chest?
When you let out a short chuckle, Yoongi turns to your smile. “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” you wisp out. “Just thinking about us.”
His fingers press into your side a fraction more, and you can feel him lift his head again. “Me, too.”
Umm.
You can say things like that. He isn’t allowed!
You’re about to set some one-sided rules before your gift pops out of the bushes a few feet away.
“My baby!” you quietly call, leaving Yoongi’s side to crouch down. “Come here, love. You hungry?”
She cautiously makes her way over, sniffing your hand when you leave it outstretched. After careful consideration, the little one nudges your palm, letting you glide fingers down her back as she approaches her bowls.
“You’re so tiny,” you observe with slight pity. “We’ll get you well fed in no time—”
“Hey, Sugar! Oh, is this her? She’s gorgeous, no wonder!”
Huh? Sugar?
Who else knows the cat’s name already?
Your neck almost strains when you look up to see who’s talking. When you notice an older lady donning a really comfy, fluffy robe, you feel like it looks super familiar before you stand.
“Hi,” you greet before introducing yourself, extending your hand and shaking the woman’s soft, delicate fingers. “Sorry if we were too loud.”
“Call me Miss Dion. And you weren’t too loud this time, sweetie,” she says with a wink, glancing down at the kitty eating what you laid out. “Was just comin’ out to water my plants so it’s good to see you’re here, too. Looks like he finally got some sense back in that head of his.”
“I’m standing right here, you know.”
“Oh, I know!”
Back? How long has she known about you? Do her and Yoongi actually converse regularly? Their banter is… Really adorable.
It’s making you fall even more in love with the man biting his cheek in amusement.
Wait.
Is Yoongi Sugar?
That is so fucking cute you could cry.
“I’m back to take care of this guy,” you explain with a head tilt. “And the little one, of course.”
It’s when you say this that Miss Dion notices the bandages on Yoongi’s face, concern pushing down her brows. “What happened to you, young man?”
“Nothing to worry about.”
“You sure? I got some ointment in my kitchen somewhere—”
“It’s all good—”
“We’ll take it,” you cut him off, not looking but feeling his stare on your face. “How much do we owe you?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” With a snuff at Yoongi and a smile your way, Miss Dion heads inside to fetch a bottle.
In the meantime, you give your lover a quiet stare before bending down to run your hands over soft fur.
“Papa Sugar is gonna need that so he can’t argue,” you coo to your cat, cheekily ignoring Yoongi’s sputtering puff of air above your head.
“Papa Sugar? Really?”
You glance up to his smile with a mischievous one of your own. “What, you wanna be Sugar Daddy instead?”
The swirl in your belly is instant. Because Yoongi can only look out into the distance, biting his lip and failing to hide his grin.
Sigh. If only he didn’t have those injuries across his face. You’d push him back into the door and slam it shut if it was any other day.
Patience, patience, patience.
Those hits aren’t gonna heal with just one round of gauze.
When you have to replace the cotton patches, at least you’ll have something to help.
—
—
It’s not until you’re about to tuck in for the night that Yoongi approaches your side of the bed. Judging by the headphones slung around his neck, he’s about to work, so you assume he’s just coming to give you a kiss goodnight.
But after he does exactly that, he asks you a question that warms your chest,
“Where’s your keys.”
“In there,” you motion to the nearest wall, bag propped right under his windowsill. “Inside pocket, I think.”
Yoongi bends with a prolonged grunt, slowly rummaging until he finds your jangling keyring with its charms. When he grabs it, he silently sits on the edge up against your stomach, body heat permeating your tee while he fiddles with the clasps.
God, you’re so in trouble. You know exactly what he’s doing.
Unlike the last time he offered you complete access to his place, this time he didn’t even hesitate. And the way he secures a key amongst the loop, it’s his silent way of cementing permanence.
That’s not another key for you to borrow.
Because that key is yours.
—
—
continued in angel, pt. 2
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a/n: holy crap we're doing it we are actually back in the main storyline?! how do we feel right now because i am over the damn moon diving into this story again. here's a slight pitstop before you make your way over to part two (THE CONTINUATION IS IN A REBLOG!) so take a breather before heading into the resttttttt
++ feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
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⇥ here!
++ more links:
⇥ masterlist
⇥ three tangerines masterlist
a/n 2: we did this for 3tanfugue and the energy was great! just like last time, some of you guys suggested that we have post goals to encourage interaction. no one voted against it yet, so we'll keep it goin!
note goal: since we're back in main storyline, upping the goal! 1,000 notes is the goal, so when we hit that, 3tan14 will be dropped as soon as it's done! thank you all for reading and would love to hear any thoughts: what did you like about the chapter? how did a certain scene make you feel? what are you excited to see next? any shares, comments, tags, and reblogs with commentary count, and i appreciate anything you guys have to say.
title: angel (continuation) (m)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken pt. 1 | broken pt. 2 | fugue pt. 1 | fugue pt. 2 | fugue pt. 3 | fugue pt. 4 | angel
explicit warnings: cursing, thigh riding, cowgirl, oral (m rec), naughty studio time(??), couch sex, rough sex, giving yoongi the business, bold as fuck reader, choking, spanking, penetrative sex, kissing deserves to be here too lol, alexa play no hands by waka flocka, deep throating, hair/head tugging, nipple play, yoongi in that gd tank, yoongi in those gd glasses, teasing, titty fucking hello!!!!, stripping while he watches…. yeah, missionary, sub!3tanyoongi?????, scratching, multiple orgasms, protected sex, emotional sex, the glasses stay on??, good god they’re so hot i’m blushing
—
—
For the next few days, you’re at Yoongi’s every moment you’re free. Other than work that you have diligently not taken off, the two of you have alone time most of the week.
And it’s more than perfect.
You cook meals, talk about anything that doesn’t involve recent incidents, and Yoongi even lets you watch as he creates stunning instrumentals at his bedroom desk. There seems to be three projects that he’s cycling through, and one of them sounds achingly beautiful even though it’s just a series of hums.
As far as physical work, you do anything that requires heavy lifting—even hauling groceries inside.
Despite Yoongi’s many groans of protest, you tell him it’s no big deal at all. You want to help as much as you can, if merely to make up for all that time you could’ve helped him for three months.
It’s right after your solo grocery run that he follows you into his kitchen with his thousandth resigned sigh,
“Babe, you really don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to, baby,” you whisper, setting everything down. When you start unloading, Yoongi stops your arms, soothing the divots left by many grocery bags. “But I want to. So let me? Please?”
You get why he’s not exactly okay with the situation. If you had to depend on him for everything, it would make you upset, too.
But you want to show him you’re here for him no matter what. If that bothers him, he’ll just have to keep dealing with it.
Yoongi rests his forehead against yours. “You’re too good for me.”
“And you’re too handsome for me.” Flicking his chest, you pretend to be so very disappointed as you start taking out cans and produce. “Who said you could walk around here wearing that?”
That stupid tank hugs every bit of him just right. You’re half jealous of the way it fits on him, and half in constant need to rip it off every waking second.
Even the way you reacted when he first stepped out with it caused an immediate burst of cheek-raised laughter, and you proceeded to glare at his grin every time he got close.
Which is probably, frustratingly, exactly why he keeps wearing them.
“It’s just a tank!” Yoongi exclaims, laughing when you scoff into the fridge. “What’s with you and these?”
“Don’t even,” you huff. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
One wink is enough to destroy you. So you keep putting groceries away to avoid more of them.
Fruits go here, veggies in the fridge, cat food in this cabinet, frozen treats in the freezer… Come to think of it, you could do some naughty teasing with those later—
A veiny hand cuts your thoughts, caging you against counters with an ask, “And what am I doing, doll?”
Rhetorical question once again.
This whole week, while neither of you have instigated anything related to sex, Yoongi has tested you multiple times. Whether it be devouring the sight of you in his tees, or kissing along your shoulders after you emerged freshly showered, he has been driving you to the edge every time.
This unashamed, barely restrained side of him is completely new to you, and you’d like to think you’re doing a damn good job of keeping yourself in check.
Because you’ve been wanting to tear him apart until he’s a blithering, writhing mess.
At first, you assumed it’s because of how he’s been looking lately. The shroud that’s been haunting his eyes is completely absent, giving a beautiful shine and a whole new level of attraction.
But as the week has gone by, you’ve realized that it’s something deeper.
It’s the fact that Yoongi’s gone beyond keeping you safe and protecting you, gone way further than just being there for you when you need him.
And he’s doing all this while not compromising his dreams. He’s working hard for what he wants, and encouraging you to do the same with a gentle push only he can provide.
Essentially, Yoongi’s everything you didn’t even know you needed.
And this simple fact is the sole reason you want to take care of him in every single way, including some that will perpetually make you shy when you remember them.
But until he fully tells you he’s ready—which he hasn’t yet—you aren’t giving in. This agonizing monster is being kept at bay with the thinnest string. The tiniest gate. The most miniscule knot.
However.
Your vow to hold yourself back physically doesn’t mean keeping your thoughts to yourself. So you set them free as your eyelids lower,
“Making it really, really hard to leave you alone.”
Chains swing against your chest, conspiring with this demon to make you fold when he annoyingly purrs,
“Good.”
Fuck. Yoongi’s already attractive when he’s not doing anything. So when he does shit like this? When he’s practically begging for you to give in? It takes all of your inner strength to not buckle at the knees.
“Not good,” you parry, breath short and heart rate spiking. “We said to wait until you were ready.”
Goddamn. Your fingers itch to grab at his waist, your core storms with incessant need to ride that beautiful chest.
Mercifully, Yoongi grants you reprieve with a simple hum, sliding his hand off and sauntering away. “Playing hard to break, huh? Not bad.”
Not bad? Your pulse is through the goddamn roof!
“Of course,” you scoff, “I’m not losing to you.”
Laughs pop from around the corner, his absence allowing you to catch your breath and straighten your wobbly legs. “We’ll see about that, baby girl.”
Safe. You didn’t crack and didn’t give much away.
Despite the heated moment ending too soon, your smile stretches incredibly wide.
Yoongi has no idea what he’ll unleash as soon as he’s healed and ready.
You’ll both see about that indeed.
—
—
On Tuesday, your brother’s car is ready, so you head to the dealership in Yoongi’s car and drive back separately to the house.
Once there, Yoongi heads into the house before you video call and show your brother every single detail.
Every. Single. Detail.
“Ugh, she practically looks brand new! Do you really need me to open the passenger door again?”
“Yes! We have to be thorough or I’m getting my money back.”
“God, you’re so cheap,” you huff, leaning into the vehicle and showing him every leather bound surface.
Seriously, they did a really good job. They even cleaned where your brother had all his tiny figures and polaroids and that was always a problem spot. Where did those even go, anyway? “Happy?”
“Maybe. But looks good so far, I’ll look over her again when I’m back.”
Of course. He’s gonna find literally any excuse to say they need to fix more. With his track record, he’ll probably even get a whole new engine from his smooth talk and persistence. “Which will be in two days, right? Friday? On time?”
To your absolute delight, he doesn’t hesitate, sounding even more sure when he responds, “Yeah, I think I can.” When you cheer, your camera shakes like hell as his eye roll stays completely still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Yoongi must have cleared the air surrounding his ex. With a joyful goodbye, you hang up and head right inside to tell him the news.
Turns out, you weren’t the only one holding massive amounts of tension because of this setback. There’s a noticeable change in Yoongi’s eyes, and your heart bleeds knowing his friend’s potential absence had been weighing on him.
He’s the bravest for choosing to have the final conversation with him alone.
There still seems like something is bothering him, though.
And you still don’t know how to ask.
—
—
At least with Taehyung, you can let loose and say whatever you want.
That fact is what allows you to breathe as soon as you pull up to Jimin’s house the next day, scanning the familiar cul-de-sac as you park in his driveway. Forever has passed since you were last here, and you can’t even remember paying a visit during the daytime.
But Tae told you to meet him here, so you’re here.
Food has been laid out across the living room coffee table, but none of it is touched. All you’ve been able to do is take residence on the leather couch, watching as Taehyung gnaws on a fingernail.
“Stop that.”
“Talk to me then.”
So you do.
There’s no hiding with him like you had to with your friends. Thorough, you give him the entire rundown of that stormy night without omission.
Throughout the entire time you talk, your best friend is laser focused. He doesn’t say a single word, and he doesn’t move one fucking muscle as you recount what happened, from the moment you fought with your brother to the excruciating minutes of screaming at Yoongi’s door.
But something you say makes you both flinch.
Because as soon as you mention the broken guitar pieces around his living room, a question zips through the open space,
“What did you just say?”
Your head whips around to see Jimin frozen in the hallway. “Yeah, he, umm. It’s completely gone now, so.. I’m gonna see if I can find him a new one.”
That second part is something you haven’t even told Yoongi yet. It just felt right to admit to the two of them, and you watch as Jimin slowly walks toward you with eyes wide.
Is he okay? Fuck, were you not supposed to say that after all? “Or I can get him something else—”
Toned arms embrace you tight, and you’re flung into confusion as your eyes stare at the ceiling.
“Thank you,” you hear against your head, so soft you may as well have thought it. It’s the kind of gratitude that’s borderline uncomfortable to receive, solely because you feel like you don’t deserve something so full of meaning.
You didn’t do anything except clean up the pieces.
The way Jimin’s thanking you? It’s like you saved Yoongi’s life.
And that’s too much to dwell on right now.
“It’s okay, really,” you respond, timidly reciprocating his hug because you’re still so very puzzled. “Is there something I should know?”
“It’s not my place to say. But everything’s gonna be fine.”
“Okay.” That answer is cryptic as hell. “I just feel bad for throwing it all out. Maybe we could’ve gotten it repaired—”
“No.” Jimin looks you dead in the eyes before putting hands on your head. Then, shocking you to the core, he kisses your forehead before resting there. “If he has you? He’ll be fine.”
“I guess.” Your mood turns melancholic as he slowly steps away. “He’s still pretty bruised from that night. And some of the cuts are deeper than I thought.”
In more ways than one now, you sadly think to yourself. There’s even more things to think about surrounding that guitar. Does it have anything to do with his—
“Yoongi faired better than some of us. Rohan had to get stitches and some of the other guys needed crutches.”
Damn. You don’t doubt that. There’s no way you can completely block out the memories you have of that night. Your brother telling Taehyung to get you out of there. The way they were severely outnumbered. Yoongi refusing to look back at you, and you painfully knowing exactly why.
“I heard about what he did,” you mournfully hitch out. “That guy.”
Jimin stills before Tae looks over at him, eyes wide and unblinking. “What did he do?”
Fuck. Does Taehyung not know about that chilling detail? Shit shit shit, you still don’t know everything yourself, so you can’t even really tell.
Is Jimin about to reveal what your brother and Yoongi left out?
Your wide eyes meet his before you stumble through an answer, “He, uhh.. Umm, he..”
“I’ll tell you later,” Jimin calmly breathes, to which Taehyung shifts his jaw out of quiet anger. “The bottom line is that we all made it out.”
Oh, fuck.
Even Jimin won’t say it?
What the hell went down that night?
No. Focus focus focus on the good. They all made it out, and there’s nothing to worry about anymore. Probably. Dalo guy can kick rocks and perish in the pits of hell for all you care, and Yoongi was able to find himself again. Only the worst is yet to come before the skies are completely clear.
“There’s one more thing.”
Both men turn your way, attentive immediately.
“This time, when my brother comes back…”
Jimin’s eyes fill right up to the brim like yours.
“Yoongi’s gonna tell him everything.”
—
—
But Yoongi still needs to tell you something, too.
Outside in the setting sunlight, you stare at the key in your fingers before determination tightens your grip.
You’re gonna ask about what happened tonight.
And you can’t give up without an answer.
Opening the door, you’re greeted with the faint sound of a song, quickly realizing which one it is and already feeling like an intruder.
“Babe?”
Hopefully he heard you. Just in case he wants to pause it, and just in case it’s a little too personal.
Because that’s the one he’s worked on the least since you’ve been listening in on his sessions. For some reason, it feels like something he’d rather keep close to that beautiful chest.
There’s no response to your yell, so you set your bag down and head to his room. “Last chance,” you joke into the door. “I’m coming in!”
All you see are faint pink and orange hues sprawling across the room. And one passed out head of hair lying across folded arms.
Déjà vu is one heck of a concept.
Things were so different the first time this happened, and you were much more cautious with your heart when it came to this man.
To think that you’d now take a bullet for him without a second thought isn’t even wild to consider. Because you have a strange yet unshakeable feeling that he would do the same for you.
Just the idea is enough to shrink your throat as you take measured steps toward his sleeping form, noticing with a smile that his outfit is quite different from the last time.
Very, very different. And much, much more revealing.
Intrigued, you lightly shake his bare shoulder oh what the hell he is cold. “Yoongi?”
Immediately, he snaps up, glasses nudged off-kilter and strands astray in all directions. It’s only when he recognizes who you are and where he is that he rasps out a rugged greeting—the same one as last time,
“Hey, doll.”
God. The sleepy version of those two words might just be your favorite.
Chuckling, you softly spin his chair, swooping down with a kiss that seems to breathe life and energy into his veins.
After you pull away, you adjust his specs, eyes beaming starlight into his when you announce through a smile,
“I’m home.”
Slowly, Yoongi nods with eyes shut. “Missed you.”
A weight to his words compresses your chest, because it means something is still bothering him. “Missed you, too, baby.”
When he doesn’t respond, you move to caress his slight stubble. Shit, was he rubbing his face too hard? He’s reopened a couple cuts.
“Wait here,” you softly command. “We need to patch you up a bit.”
To your surprise, Yoongi follows you through his room anyway, and he waits as you fetch things from the bathroom cabinet that you stocked. Wordlessly, you give him a shy smile before taking his hand in yours, leading him out to the living room.
Throughout the week, you’ve done pretty much everything you could do for him. But helping with his cuts and wounds? Every time, he’s done this part alone in his bathroom.
So this is new. For the both of you.
“Sit.”
Doesn’t matter. You want to do this for Yoongi, if at least to show him that you’re not shying away from this, too. He doesn’t have to face anything alone anymore, and that includes himself. This is simply your way of telling him that.
It’s gonna prove a bit hard to control yourself when he’s not wearing much, though.
But you can do it. You’re a headstrong, determined, confident person who will not succumb to the way their boyfriend looks in a tank and sweats.
Right.
You're already nervous in your thinly-strapped top that's even more revealing than his.
Breathing deep, you walk towards him, standing between his legs and watching him look up with intrigue and curiosity.
“I wanna do this for you, too,” you admit, straddling him when he gives you an encouraging, silent nod. “No funny business, though.”
Fuck, his eyes already dip straight to your cleavage before roving up again. Once again, this man proves that he can do anything and you’re already threatening collapse. “Who said?”
“M… Me,” you breath out, words hitching as Yoongi adjusts himself under your spread thighs.
Ignore the smirk. Ignore it, for heaven’s sake, or you’re breaking your own fucking deal.
“So hold still for me, sir.”
A devious chuckle coats your chin as his head hits the couch, mouth at a slant that should never be paired with those glasses.
Have mercy, you are already having trouble breathing. This is quite possibly the best worst mistake you’ve ever made, and that includes you asking him to fuck you back when you barely even spoke.
That version of you would have fled at the sight of him now.
But here you are, up close and more than personal, and you thank your past self for giving you every moment like this.
As you start busying yourself with the cream, you wonder how you even got here in the first place. Truthfully, you don’t remember much about that day other than it storming right when you were halfway. The rain felt like a punishment at the time, a punishment for going where you shouldn’t and a sign to turn the fuck around.
But now? You think of it as a blessing. Because if it wasn’t raining and you weren’t shivering like hell, you don’t think Yoongi would’ve even let you inside.
It’s because of the heavy clouds that fateful day that all this has transpired. And you will always go back to that summer afternoon when Yoongi put sunlight back in your eyes.
So this week has been your own chance to give some back.
Determined, you lean forward, lightly spreading ointment on his cuts and concentrating to get every spot covered. Your focus is so zeroed in that you almost don’t feel the soothing circles of his thumb on your thighs.
It doesn’t take long, but that’s due to your patient being the best boy. Yoongi only watches as you patch him up, breathing soft from his nose and blinking up at your face.
Pretty soon, you’re finished, turning to set everything down on the… Not coffee table. But the floor.
You can shop for a new one soon.
Well. Your first task is done. Now comes the difficult one, and you kinda just wing it because overthinking has gotten you absolutely nowhere.
“What’s wrong?”
Of course he catches onto your silence. Gulping down all your fears, you take the leap, grateful for the hands holding your hips in support,
“If I ask you anything.. will you be honest with me?”
“Yes.” Zero hesitation makes your heart jolt. “Just ask, love.”
Swallowing, you sieve through the questions and thoughts you want to make sense of, trying to figure out the best way to go about things without making it uncomfortable.
Ah, screw it. There is no best way. “Are you hiding something from me?”
Yoongi’s brows tick. “No.”
It’s more than obvious that he wants to say more. But the fact that he doesn’t? Is actually pretty relieving.
“What happened that night then,” you slowly ask, hating how his fingers tense on your thigh. “In the lot.”
A sigh is your first answer.
Then silence is your second.
The moment draws out so long you think Yoongi won’t fess up, but he finally responds to your stomach instead of your searching eyes,
“Which part.”
Fuck. He’s gonna make you say it. You really, really don’t want to, but he won’t answer unless you’re specific.
Here it goes then. “My brother said the guy from Dalo pulled something on you.”
Immediately, a tongue prods his cheek.
“And you did something, but that’s all I got,” you finish, folding your lips to keep anything else from spilling out like emotions or feelings or any leftover screams from when you were dragged away.
“So ask me.”
Fuck.
You glance up to see Yoongi staring, eyes trained on your face while the rest of his face remains unmoving.
“I…” Shit, you already feel queasy. But he’s gonna answer, so just cut the bullshit and ask. “What did you do?”
“He had a gun.”
What.
“And I just reacted.”
…What?
He braces for this next part, and your entire world suspends in his outstretched hands.
“Just thought it should be me instead of him.”
Oh. God.
Tears form before you can say a word, your fingers shaking and balling up cotton. “You… Oh, Yoongi—”
Your head falls into your palms, every fiber of your being struggling to grasp that the end result wasn’t as horrifying as it could’ve been. Because it still almost happened and you almost lost a home.
People have left before. Many, many times. But they all walked away for their own selfish reasons, and they didn’t come back. Yoongi’s reasons have always been selfless. Always always always, and would’ve been to the very end had he—
Warm hands slide up your arms, but you can’t stop your shakes, you can’t even fucking think straight you can’t even fucking talk.
“Baby…”
What’s that you said about taking a bullet for him? Chills skitter down your spine when you realize how accurate you were in thinking he would do it. Because Yoongi just did it for the only family you have.
Ride or die has never had a better example in physical form. His love for your brother runs deeper than tree roots, and you feel the bitter leaves of guilt nicking your body on all sides.
“Listen. I didn’t know what he was doing,” he tries to clarify, voice swimming low in your ringing ears. “But I just moved.”
Stop. You’ve got to pull it together because there’s more to ask but goddamn it already hurts.
How can you make room for all the love that’s still pouring in for this man? How can one heart ever be enough?
“Thank you,” you hitch out, letting tears ping onto his lap. “But I love you.”
His fingers grip a tad tighter.
“So please.” You finally leave the wet walls of your hands, noticing the deep, deep pools of emotion in his eyes. “Don’t ever get into that again.”
“I know. We all know.”
“Thank you for telling me.” You swipe at your cheeks. “And the guitar?”
Shit. Yoongi reacts even worse to that. Like he half expected it but half hoped you wouldn’t ask.
“It was a gift,” he starts, looking anywhere but at you. “From my ex.”
…What? And he kept it this whole time?
Dark, dark poison seeps into your side as your legs lose their grip. “Oh.”
From one wild emotion to the next. This rollercoaster knocks you around a bend, and you suddenly need it to find a way to stop it in its tracks.
Why did he keep it? Does he still think about her? Is this why he’s never mentioned her, because he didn’t want you knowing the real truth?
This is too much. Your brain is spinning and looping and it starts to lift you from his legs but Yoongi holds you tight and doesn’t let you leave—
“There’s a reason I never let anyone in.”
You let your eyes lift to his lidded expression, hating how some of the shadow has returned.
“And it’s because of her.”
Shit. His hands.
They’re trembling.
Immediately, the ride slows to a stop.
And your chest crumbles alongside your shoulders. You can deal with self-esteem issues or anything to do with his own self, but an ex that he can’t even speak of without anxiety? That’s a completely different story.
Now you feel terrible for forcing it on him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Should’ve told you from the start.”
“No.” Understanding flows through your assurance. “That’s not my business. We don’t have to talk about it.”
He gives you a soft look of gratitude as hands find your hips. “We can. It doesn’t bother me now.”
But his hands… “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Yoongi’s rueful smile sends a pang through your heart. “She treated me like shit, but. She can’t haunt me anymore.”
Your throat clenches. Because now you know exactly what the hell Yoongi’s talking about.
Those things you’ve been told, those lies you’ve been led to believe, those arguments you always seemed to lose even when you knew you were in the right. Even the way you’ve been told you won’t ever amount to much, and the way you’ve blatantly been told you’d never find anyone else. All of it reeks of pain and injustice. And oh, how you’ve been drug through the mud until you couldn’t even recognize your own fucking reflection.
Fucking hell, if this was what Yoongi has been going through, you do wish he told you. You’d draw swords against anyone for him, and that includes the ghosts of his past thinking they could keep holding him hostage in his own fucking head.
You’re so livid you can’t even see straight, and your words leave in smoke, “I know what you mean.”
“What?”
Your breath shakes. Because no matter how long it’s been, this is still hard. “When you go through that for so long, it’s what you’re used to, you know? So anything good that comes, it’s either hard to believe, or you feel like you don’t deserve it.”
Yoongi just stares like he’s seeing you for the first time.
“But you?” Shit. Get the words out because he needs to hear them loud and clear. “You’ve made me realize that I can believe the good things, that I do deserve them. And I should’ve been there for you all this time because I would’ve tried and fought until you got to that point, too.”
Your vision isn’t the clearest.
But you’re gonna remember this look on Yoongi’s face forever.
This stricken, bright-rimmed, pained yet relieved expression will burn and sear into memory, staying etched into your heart until its last beat fades out.
It’s love in ultimate sanctuary.
Because it’s what you feel every second you see him.
“I don’t know what she did to you, or what she ever said,” you conclude, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear. “But it’s all wrong and it doesn’t matter anymore. At all. Okay?”
Another drop needs sweeping as yours continue to freefall. Your chest is so close to his now, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he holds you with arms so firm.
The house in your heart has grown a garden, flowers of all shades taking root and blooming bright. You reach out and skim along their soft petals, watering them with every tear you brush from your lover’s countenance. Once, twice, a little rain shower for two.
Out of all the people you know, Yoongi might be the strongest.
“Everything okay, baby?”
When he finally speaks, your heart beats at his praise. Because it’s so far from what you expect, and far from what you usually tell yourself. “So goddamn perfect..”
“You think so?” You smile with your eyes, noticing the cut on his lower cheek and noting to patch that one again. “Maybe I am.”
Finally, you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t reject it.
And Yoongi’s slow grin of pride is the best and most beautiful reward you could’ve received.
Fuck, the things you would do to see that every day. Is being in tune with yourself all you need to make him proud? Is that really all he wants for you?
Who’s really the perfect one here?
“You have been this whole time,” he whispers, kissing moonlight into your wrist. “Ever since you came over.”
…What?
This time, you do hesitate, moving away to confirm that you heard him correctly.
Are you both on the exact same wavelength? Because how in the world is he referencing the same date and time that you were just thinking about? “...Really?”
“I’m not just saying that, doll.” Yoongi’s brows touch. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing, just what used to be everything. Your mouth bends in a sad upward curve. “I just… No one’s told me that except you.”
“Look at me.”
You slowly peel your lids upward, mesmerized by how Yoongi’s somehow glowing in the last fading colors of dusk.
“If you’ve never been told you’re perfect, everyone’s a fucking idiot.”
Oh, how you love this man. “It’s true,” you shrug. “But like we were saying. Everyone else can eat shit anyway.”
Yoongi doesn’t laugh when you do, simply moving his hands to your waist. “I meant what I said,” he continues with conviction. “You don’t see it yet, but you will.”
God, your ears are searing right through. How is he still going? “Stop,” you pout, hand pressed against his solid chest. “No one can be that perfect.”
“I meant for me.”
Your thoughts grind to a halt. “What?”
All Yoongi does is tilt his chin higher. But it’s enough to drive you to the brink, catapulted further by his words and his look void of any teasing,
“No one will ever come close.”
You’re already building the floor plan for a second home next door.
Does Yoongi know he can’t just say things like that and get away with it? You can only handle so much praise before your mind explodes. Truly, any amount is already hard enough to accept. Shouldn’t he be the one that understands your predicament the most?
So unfair.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” you groan, cheeks simmering and warm. “You cannot just say that and expect me to be okay.”
A huff of amusement adds more heat to your skin. “Maybe it’s why I do.”
“Of course it is.”
Smiling, his touch slowly travels to your ass, and his squeeze makes you flinch against his lap.
“Babe?” You freeze. “What are you—”
“Angel,” he suddenly grits out in reverence, leaning forward to kiss the bare skin of your chest. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“Yoongi,” you gasp as his hands slip under your top. “We shouldn’t until you’re—”
“I’m good.” He breathes you in. “Promise. I just..”
Your breath catches in your throat, tugging your hands out to wrap around his hair and clutch soft strands. “Just what?”
Inhaling again, Yoongi kisses deeper between your breasts, sending shivers spiraling across your bones. “I need you so fuckin’ bad.”
“Oh.” You squirm not just in shyness, but something a lot more devious. “I need you, too, baby… But I don’t wanna hurt you.”
With a quick snap, Yoongi shoves you onto his pelvis, and you yelp at the friction against his hardened tent. “I don’t even give a shit if you do.” Tugging you forward again, he breaks at your whine. “But if I wait any longer I’ll lose my fucking mind.”
“Shit.” Bliss erupts as your legs squeeze his hips. Throwing the last scraps of your dignity, you snatch his face with both hands, core buzzing when his eyes lock with your lips, “Are you sure? I have to know because—”
“Yes, angel—”
“I’m—I’m serious, Yoongi, you don’t get it,” you say with barely held restraint, now knowing everything this man has been willing to do for you and the people you both love. There’s a dark, scary, obsidian part of you that is far from the nickname he’s giving. A little beast growling and crouching, ready to lunge. “I… I want…”
And you let it loose when you whisper exactly what you’ve been wanting to do this entire time, eyes innocent yet tongue fiendish on the shell of his ear,
“I want to ruin you.”
Fuck.
Never. Ever. Has Yoongi’s reaction sent shivers down your skin so fast. You already consider stopping because you’re outright quaking from the things you want to do to him. The waves are coming fast and your first instinct is to run.
But there’s an intensity in his eyes swirling so fiercely it tugs you from shore, and you barrel past all your own muddled excuses as soon as he claws into your soul,
“Do it.”
“Finally.”
Your mouths clash hard as you swallow his tongue from above, stretching his neck over the back of the couch and melting your front onto his. Breathy sounds come from you or him, you aren’t quite certain, but you give his mouth a final shove before attacking his cheek, his jaw, the soft column of his neck.
Shuddering at his moan when you suck a vein.
“My baby’s so sensitive,” you taunt, mocking his words from days and days past. “Gonna have fun with you.”
“Who’d you learn all that from,” he slowly rasps back, groaning when you rake nails along his bare shoulders. “Fuck.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You push onto your knees, grabbing his head and yanking him back by those luscious locks fuck he’s already heavy lidded and wanton. Seeing Yoongi so blissed out when you’ve barely started with him? Holy shit you’re so turned on your cunt squeezes around nothing. “Too bad.”
“What the fuck is happening.”
Humming, your descent is quick, pressing lips deep into the skin of his throat and licking, swirling, lapping at the sweat already forming from his body’s flinches and locks. Because Yoongi is gripping the cushions of his couch and fighting for his goddamned life.
When you feel his arms sling around your back, you sigh into his skin. And when he scratches all fingers down your shoulders, you realize exactly why he likes when you do the same.
That shit felt divine. It’s the ultimate encouragement to keep tugging on his hair, yanking his groan to the side to pepper kisses along his good shoulder. “Told you, baby,” you whisper to his silky tone. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
Yoongi’s only response is a breathy laugh as you slide your twisting core over his sweats. “You better be fuckin’ careful.”
“And why is that,” you ask, taunting him with another slow roll up his excruciatingly hard tent. Fuck, you wanted to take your time but you are seconds away from caving he’s already hitting your spot just right. “Why should I listen to you?”
It takes less than a second to remember how strong he is, both arms slamming you onto his dick as he launches his hips upward. Your mewl morphs into a wicked grin when he threatens so delightfully,
“Cus when it’s my turn, you’re fucked, doll.”
Giggles bubble from your stomach as hands slide down his neck. Pressing your forehead against his and feeling your perspiration, too, you goad with a feigned pout, “Promise?”
When he grins, there aren’t any words, his eyes locked on your heaving chest. Hot palms slide down to your ass, squeezing out a moan as he bites his lip. “Of course, baby girl.”
You can’t lose to him.
When you push your body against his neck, you revel in the way his face nestles in your bosom, glasses slightly fogged and face already flushed to hell. “It’s cute,” you purr downward, “How you think you’re even getting a turn.”
Fucking hell, Yoongi’s eyes are so blown out they swallow you whole.
And you welcome the abyss with open arms. “Let me.”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve always taken care of me.” Gently, you caress the hair on his nape. “Let me take care of you this time.”
You watch as light beams into his gaze, and you slowly descend for a kiss, molding into him and breathing in that musk you love so much. If his eyes are the abyss, yours are the void, the monster in your belly on its haunches and ready to roar again.
“Gonna ask one more time,” you whisper to his parted mouth. “You sure I won’t hurt you?”
The dark chuckle you get in response rumbles your ribcage. “You already have,” he says through a devilish slant. “And it feels so fucking good.”
Oh. You know exactly what he means.
And this is the moment you break.
Your deep kiss is a prelude to the ones you plant along his jaw, careful not to touch his wounds as you slide your way down his other side. The fingers you feel skating along your tee are twitching and vibrating with need, and the soft moans you hear launch arrows to your core.
God, he sounds so pretty. Is this what he thinks about when you’re unraveling under his touch?
It’s addicting. It’s vitalizing. You want more more more.
Growing bolder in lust, you kiss down Yoongi’s arm, saliva coating his smooth skin before your finger impishly shifts his tank to the side. As soon as his nipple is freed, your mouth cups it hot, tongue swirling—
“What the fuck?”
Your cunt pulses wild as Yoongi bucks forward, his head digging into the top of the couch and fingers digging divots in your hips. Arms wrap around your waist in a snap, and you keep sucking just to feel him hang on tighter and tighter and tighter.
Then you bite.
And Yoongi flings out a moan so loud you might come.
“Baby, hold on—”
Your fingers rake down his shoulder before squeezing around his other nub, back straining in the tight bend you’re in but it’s worth it all to hear him like this. Like he can’t even function and can’t say anything other than your name. God, it is a high it is a drug. You should’ve been taking the reins a lot more often than the one time you sucked him off so hard he—
Speaking of.
Your lips release his chest with a pop, and you feel drool slathered all over your face when your command dies on your lips, “Lemme…”
Holy fuck, Yoongi is gone.
Hair astray, jaw loose, brows pinched to hell and an angry flush of red flooding his chest. Just the mere sight of him this undone makes you whine, and your brain can’t even remember what you want to say.
Chests heaving, you both simply drink each other in. Because while he looks near collapse, you fear you aren’t faring much better. You already know a strap of your tee has left your shoulder, and your senses are so overblown you know your eyes look volcanic.
And you know for a fact you’re so fucking wet.
“Sit at the edge. For me,” you command through heavy breaths. “Now.”
Your neck is grabbed before you’re tugged into a kiss, and you match his manic energy before dropping to his rug. His pants are quickly stripped right after, cock springing free and already imprinting on the back of your throat.
Well. Yoongi did say he’s gonna lose his fucking mind. May as well make that a reality.
“Babe—”
Your mouth gulps him up before he can get the words out, cheeks hollowing and ears perking at his smattering of hisses. You don’t know what the fuck he was gonna say, and quite frankly, you don’t care. All you’re focused on is giving him your worst, swirling tongue around his tip and squeezing his base with a sure hand.
“Holy fuck.”
Sucks, licks, twirls are all practiced and measured, and you slide all the slick down his length before pumping him the way he likes. His heady scent enters your nose the more of him you swallow, and you feel the telltale strain in your pipe with each deep pass.
Fuck, he is unwinding. And Yoongi being so vocal is the reason for the slick coating your thighs, because you damn near lose it when a moan leaves that mouth at a higher pitch than normal what the fuck was that?
“Fuck, babe,” he grits through tight teeth. “So fucking—”
Curses tumble down your back in waves, slick palms hovering over your head and brushing the side of your face. Yoongi can’t decide where to keep his hands as your slobber coats and coats him, finally settling on your scalp and gripping it with need.
Popping off and fully rising on your knees, you let him tilt your head back as he leans forward, drinking in his handsome face and loving the fact he hasn’t taken those goddamn glasses off. Strings web from your chin to his throbbing cock, and you have the boldest audacity to ask,
“What, baby?”
He can only shake his head with a smirk. “I can’t even fucking say.”
Body heat passes over your wet chin as you rasp out another question, “Does it feel good?”
“The fuck?” He kisses your shiny forehead as cold jewelry taps your skin. “I can’t even think straight.”
“Good,” you hum, sliding your palm along his wet cock and basking in his shuddering moans. Not only does he sound beautiful, but his cologne sends you spiraling even further.
And you’re going somewhere you’ve never gone before. “There’s still this, too..”
You haven’t done this yet. At least, you don’t think you have. But the idea came to you this week when you’ve had plenty of time to hatch menacing plans, and your body is buzzing to fulfill something you think Yoongi wants. Because who the fuck wouldn’t want this?
Lowering both thin straps of your top, you let your breasts free, watching Yoongi shamelessly groan at the sight of them. “Just for you, baby,” you vow, squeezing both tits around his cock and feeling him twitch like mad.
“You’re fuckin’ lying,” Yoongi growls low, words scraped from the roof of his mouth as he flings his head back. “Fuck!”
Delighted to hell, you laugh at his slipping grip on sanity. Yes yes yes, this is where you love to see him. He deserves nothing but ecstasy after everything he’s given, and you’re here to provide. A goddess worshipping her forever love. An angel delivering sin.
“Look at me, Yoongi,” you whine, oozing desire as he leans forward covered in lust and sweat. Your hands continue to slide your tits along his velvety veins, your essence coating them in a shine the more spit they gather. “There you go.”
“Fucking hell, doll.”
“You like it?”
Yoongi reaches out to caress a nipple, and your flinch coaxes wickedness from his curve. “So fucking nasty for me.”
You can’t help but grin, reaching to grip his cock between your tits. “Only you.”
His lips catch yours before your breath finishes, and your eyes slip shut as you feel his palms around your jaw. His presence envelops you from all sides, and you want to exist nowhere else. The world can fall away and cease to turn on its axis, and you’d still be right here, orbiting this man in darkness in silence in triumph in joy.
Pure emotion is what lowers your head back onto his cock, taking so much of him your throat constricts in surprise alone. When he knocks the back of your walls, your brain jangles with his guttural moan, and you choke around him so hard your eyes prick with tears.
“Shit.”
You stay pressed against his pelvis a second more, gasping when you come up for air and immediately latching onto his sack. Over your head, you hear your name shoot out of Yoongi’s lips, and your eyes slide high enough to see him on his last thread of coherency.
“Doll, you gotta—you gotta stop—”
“I don’t wanna—”
Your entire head is yanked onto his thigh, breaths heavy and gulping in all the oxygen on the planet. Beads of sweat start to slide down your neck, and you look up to see Yoongi’s bangs clinging to his moist skin.
Again, you find yourself coughing out laughter. Because you’re doing exactly what you set out to do. “Surprised?”
“Not at all,” he huffs out, looking like a man completely satiated and spent. “This is all I’ve been waiting for.”
Oh? That’s news to you. Now you really do wish you started embracing this side of you sooner. “Hope it’s what you wanted.”
“Fucking… overachiever, fuck.”
Grin lopsided, you fully rest your head on toned muscle. “I almost came,” you admit with not one ounce of shyness. “Sucking you off.”
If you aren’t mistaken, Yoongi’s soul damn near leaves his body entirely. “You’re not allowed to say shit like that.”
“What,” you wheeze out, limbs gelatinous and cunt pulsing. “It’s true.”
“I don’t wanna hear it.” When you puff laughter onto his leg, he grins. “Had to stop you before I came, too.”
“Help me up, please,” you breathe out, loving how Yoongi assists without pause. Your body is slowly lifted from the floor as he helps you climb back on his lap, and you immediately find purchase in his chest. “That took more energy than I thought.”
Breathy laughs tickle your ear. “Lie down for me then, babe.”
“No,” you pout. “Wanna keep. Going.”
Ever the giving lover, Yoongi lets you take a breather as he rubs circles on your back. “Whatever you want.”
You turn to slowly kiss his slick neck, traveling further the more access he gives. With each tender plant on his skin, you find more and more strength, but it’s less of the manic kind and more of the outright desire to encase him in love.
His palms slide up your back, caught in your straps before rising higher to grip your shoulder blades. When he digs fingers into your skin, you moan into his throat, licking a spot that has him purring.
“Let me get a condom, love,” he whispers in your ear. And you oblige with a melting slide off of his thighs. “So cute.”
It isn’t long until Yoongi returns, but you practically fuse into the couch when you notice that he’s ditched the tank, leaving his chains and the fucking glasses still?
Oh. Cool. You’re a goner and now your shorts are drenched.
But you have to remove them anyway, so you slowly stand and make a spectacle out of your strip. Your chest beats loud as Yoongi watches from his seat, his eyes cast in heavy desire watching you slip your bottoms to the floor. You can only focus on the way he rolls protection on, because there’s no way you can hold eye contact with a demon for so long.
When your top hits the ground next, his gravelly hum makes you feel like a god. How ironic, when he commands your every heaven and hell.
“Come here.”
Silent, you slowly mount him once more, pouting to his fiendish smile and narrowing your eyes. “How’d you know to leave them on.”
Yoongi’s teeth shine as he spreads that stupid, cocky grin. And his lack of an answer has you gritting your annoyance out in pure ire,
“You asshole.”
Of course he only laughs.
Bright, white need booms through your center as you grip his shoulders, positioning yourself over his dick with no hands and sliding right on oh holy fuck this part will always leave you breathless from how big he is—
“That’s so hot,” he groans to the ceiling, “Goddamn.”
Wild, fluttering pulses erupt around his cock, and you have to breathe through the connection as you sink and sink and sink. Your thighs burn so deliciously as you adjust, and you start to wonder how long you’ll last without his help. Because your legs are fucking burning. “So big,” you hitch. “Feels too damn good.”
“So fucking tight.”
Both of you groan when you fully sheath, and your slow rocks are enough to send him in a cursing frenzy. Yoongi can’t stop praising you as you move against him, holding you close and breathing down your chest. There are words you’ve heard him say many times, but there’s one that snaps your attention in threes and makes your head twirl.
What did he just say?
“Kiss me.”
You do exactly that, keeping your achingly slow pace and molding your whole body with his. The hard rims of his specs hit your skin as you push deeper, and you grip his slippery neck to keep yourself from falling even harder for him.
It’s no use. You think you’ll be falling forever.
Because your love for him is endless.
Life is significant when you’re joined and moving as one. Sweat drips down your skin in rivulets, but you both don’t care. All you know is how deep he feels inside, how perfect you fit him, how in love you are with every determined stroke.
You tilt his head to kiss him deep, and you shudder at the way he moans and throbs beneath you,
“You’re so…”
“Hmm?”
Yoongi’s eyes struggle to find your face. “I don’t even.. know.”
“Try.” Damn, he really is fighting to stay in one piece. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this and it’s thrilling, and addicting, and everything you want. “What’s on your mind, my love.”
“You,” he gasps. “Just you, I can’t…”
You can’t believe what you’re witnessing. Yoongi is downright entranced.
Is this what you looked like that first day you came over? Is this how he saw you when you completely lost yourself around him? His fucked out face alone is filling you with a fierce need to fulfill every wish he’s too scared to ask for.
A hand moves to cut his airway, and the groan you feel under your fingers is almost as sinful as the smirk stretching across his face.
“That’s my girl,” he manages beyond your hold, chuckling at the way you squeeze around his cock because fuck even underneath you he has so much power. “Give it to me.”
Fuck. You tighten your hold, shoving his head up and over the couch. “You asked.”
Planting your feet on either side of him, you give yourself more power and leverage to your bounces, lifting with each thrust and slamming down the full length of him.
“Shit!”
Big, sweaty hands grip under your thighs, helping you in your quest to destroy him and reaching back to slap your ass. You buck forward with each pleasurable sting, whining into his mouth when you swallow his lips, both mouths parting in pleasure with each thump of your skin against his.
“Baby, this feels—” Your arms sling around to grip the back of the couch, and you fling a moan to the ceiling as Yoongi latches onto one of your tits, hot tongue swirling around a nipple and emitting sounds that should never be heard in public. “Fuck!”
“Taste so fucking good.”
“Yoongi!”
Goddamn, are you already about to come? The throbbing you feel in your cunt is so demanding you think he’s already at his wit’s end, too.
“Angel, lemme feel you,” Yoongi breathes up to your chin. “Come for me so I can paint these tits.”
Your groan tears the deepest part of your soul, and your whole body goes limp as your lover does the work for you, sliding you up and down his cock as his ridges hit just right. His hips thrust up to meet halfway, and you whine into his ear the harder and faster he starts to go.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, grunting out when you squeeze him hard. “Fuck, good girl.”
Your whine pierces straight through his couch.
Shit, even with his help, you feel an unbearable sting in your muscles. All of them in your lower body are screaming to stop, but you want to keep going going going for him. “My legs,” you wheeze out anyway. “I need to relax for a sec.”
With a kiss to your cheek, Yoongi offers with no hesitation, “Lie down, love.”
Oh. Is he sure? “You gonna be okay?”
Wordlessly, he presses you against him as your back sinks into his couch. It’s the most gentle he’s been tonight, and that turns you on so much you know he can feel you pulse around him.
But he says nothing, eyes roaming your face before he leans to capture your lips, breaths mingling and wisping around your cheeks while he completes a perfect roll of his hips.
“You’ve given me everything.” Sliding his glasses off, he sets them on the ground before cupping your ear. “Let me do the same.”
Soul glimmering, you nod in silence.
As much as you love being on top and watching him unravel beneath you, this is where you will always find home. In his arms, love between your lips as you find connection in more than just below, joining as one.
Your world spans from the room in his heart that you’ve been blessed to have, to the end of his shadow that you will always forgive. You can’t think of anything to say now, but it’s not because you’re shy.
It’s because you aren’t the same person you were when you first ended up here, and you think Yoongi has also changed for the better.
That is exactly why you will fight to make everything work.
Moonlight streams strong through the blinds, and you adore how it highlights every part of this man above your twinkling eyes. The silver lining pales in comparison to what you have in your hands, and the slight tint will never compare to his ethereal shade of blue. Every inch of him feels perfect in your folds, and his body slots into yours just right, roll after roll so heavenly you feel like crying.
“I love you,” Yoongi whispers to your soul, and you fling yourself off the edge just to get to him, tide crashing and swirling as you hold him so, so tight.
He groans hot against your slick cheek, no doubt feeling the desperate tug of your walls, and collapses the beautiful weight of his body on yours.
Yes. This is what you want. Him him him and his complete loss of control.
When you rake nails across his back, the outright whine you hear spurns you on, and you can’t help but come again, squeezing him tight and hearing him lose his mind twice. You crash into waves of your own creation, spiraling in your own whirlpool of need and want and love and desire and every fucking thing in between.
“I’m yours,” you whoosh out, mewling in his ear as he strokes into you harder. “Come for me, love.”
It seems he completely abandons his first plan. Because you think he’s gonna pull out to unload on your chest, but you get held down so hard you scream.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, Yoongi’s never come so hard for you, thrashing as he clutches you tight. Desperate, you moan from how powerful he twitches inside, spilling into you but not the way you want. Not the way he wants. But you will get there one day and you don’t fucking care if anything happens after that, as long as you’re with him.
Honestly? You’d be fine with… Something happening after that—
“Fuck..”
Your future thoughts are interrupted by harsh breaths, and you sling tired arms around the love of your life.
“I’m yours, too, doll.” He grits his teeth and tightens his hold around your spent form. “That’s it. This is it for me.”
“And I love you, too,” you heave to his deep set brows, swallowing oxygen and searching his eyes for something else. “How do you feel?”
“There’s… There’s no noise.”
No noise?
“I…” Yoongi clutches your head with a warm palm, eyes settling into soft crescents and sparkling like celestials. “The only thing I hear is you.”
This has to be big news for him. It has to be, given the outright relief showing on his face. So instead of questioning further, you only give your support and celebrate this win, “That’s all you need, to be fair.”
His laugh lights your soul aflame. “Thank you.” Eyes roaming along your face, he smiles. “For everything.”
Following his advice earlier, you ask him another question you need to know the answer to, “Will you tell me if things get bad again?”
Shit. There seems to be a war in his head, and you wait with bated breath. “Gonna be honest.. I don’t know if I’ll remember to.”
Well, that’s a little scary. You tap him to sit up, and he obliges. “Why?”
Instead of sitting, Yoongi stands from the cushions, holding your hand to lift you beside him. It’s intimate to be naked just like this in his living room, but you aren’t shying away. This is your place now, too, you’d like to believe, and this is Yoongi’s way of showing it.
When he leads, you know you’re heading to the bathroom. But you listen as he tries to explain, rolling off the condom and chucking it in the nearest bin,
“It’s.. I dunno. Like my mind just leaves and goes off the rails and I can’t stop it.” You both head into his room. “Everything I think about just comes in at once and I’m drowning again.”
“Oh, baby.. I didn’t know it was like that.” When you stop him near his desk, you give a kiss of support to his cheek. “What about talking to someone?”
For the upteenth time today, Yoongi is stunned. “Like a psychiatrist?"
“Hmm. Maybe, or a therapist? Depends on what you want, but I can’t remember right now. Have no think.”
Looking down, Yoongi reaches for his phone next to his keyboard, and both of you check up on the definitions while you hook an arm around his. Looks like he’d be better off with a therapist for what he’s looking for.
“It could help,” you murmur, hoping he’s fine with your suggestion. “Maybe.”
Staring and looking through more pages and sites, Yoongi comes to his own conclusion. “I think you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Phone thudding down on his desk, he rubs your shoulder, thumb brushing and feeling beautifully warm. “Most of the time.”
Your poke to his side sets off a flinch.
“For now, you just have to find something that calms you down.” You extricate yourself from his side and head to the bathroom, feeling the chill of night air on your bare skin. “Like something that will just.. I dunno, make you forget all the bad shit for a little while.”
“It’s you, doll.”
You turn to face him across the room, eyes searching for any doubt as he walks up to your planted feet.
“This whole time, it’s always been you.” Reaching for your hips, he softly connects your front to his. “My nights are for sleeping again.”
Oh. That’s more than you can bear to know. Touched, you caress his hair, eyes teary and full. “Good. It felt like something was bothering you this whole week, but. Maybe I was just reading into it too much.”
“You aren’t wrong.” He swallows, gaze looking towards his bed. “I… Wrote some songs. At the hospital.” When you don’t say anything, he stares at your lips. “And I really, really wanna work on them.”
Wait. That’s it? “Oh. That’s what you’ve been working on here? I won’t keep you if you need to work on them now.”
“Nah, I’ve just been doing the instrumentals here. If I wanna record vocals, I’d have to go to the studio.”
This is so confusing. Does he think he can’t go? Or does he think you wouldn’t wanna go with him? “...Okay?”
He finally regards your eyes, stunned that you’d readily let him go. “Okay?”
“Yes, silly. If it’s something you need to go do, then do it.” You feel bad if you were the reason he couldn’t do what he’s been wanting to do. Maybe you should be more vocal in your support instead of just your actions. “Just show me what you end up doing because I’m nosy.”
“Come with me.”
“Hmm?”
Yoongi pulls you close, leading both your hands around his side and your faces closer. And it’s criminal how dashing he looks in those specs with his hair falling around the rims. “To the studio. Come with me.”
Your breath catches in your throat as your pulse quickens. “You sure, baby?”
“No one’s gonna be there for a minute,” he assures. “We still got a bit of time before anyone comes in.”
“If you’re okay with it..” Suddenly shy, you stare at the silver on his chest.“I’ve always wanted to come see you at work, so.”
“No shit?” Yoongi’s face lights up so fast you’d think the moon dipped into the room. “Let’s go then.”
—
—
This is happening. This is actually happening.
A whole wave of excitement drenches you as you’re brought into the studio you’ve only heard about.
Shelves of equipment line one wall while a black sofa sits right near the door, hugging the backside of the room. On the far side, you see one huge workstation, littered with different buttons, sliders, computer monitors, and backed by a speaker system that stands in front of a long glass window.
Oh. Sick. There’s a recording booth attached right to their room, and even that space looks pretty decently sized.
“Holy shit,” you breathe out, eyes wide as you take in your surroundings. The air itself feels new and exciting, full of promise and dreams and… one Min Yoongi smiling at you from the doorway.
Laughing, you blurt, “What?”
His teeth shine as he looks down, shutting the door and making his way towards you. The way he walks makes you feel many things, but above all, it lets you know how at home he feels here. How comfortable and in his element. “Nothing, doll,” he says through a grin. “Just watching you.”
Your eyes cannot sparkle bright enough. But you let him pull you into his arms as you keep looking around. “It’s amazing,” you note with wonder. “No wonder you practically live here.”
There’s no malice or anything negative in your tone. So you’re confused when Yoongi’s shoulders drop. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes downcast. “I always try to make things quick.”
Your eyes snap to his. “What? No, don’t do that.” Sliding palms up his jaw, you look him head on. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, okay? I don’t care how much time you spend here, not if it’s what you wanna do.”
You meant it earlier. He has to know you’re gonna support his dreams and aspirations no matter what. In actions, and in words. If he doesn’t know that yet? Well. You aren’t trying hard enough to drive the point home.
Yoongi twists his face to kiss one of your hands. “Thanks, baby.”
Oh. Baby again. Not babe. Why does him saying that make you crumble a hundred times over? “Of course. And don’t mind me while we’re here, okay? I’ll be invisible unless you need my help.”
Looking towards the workstation, Yoongi contemplates before turning back with a small nod. “I do, actually.”
Wait, you even get some hands-on action? Yoongi’s gonna teach you shit? Tonight is the best night ever. “Perfect, put me to work. What are we doing, producer man?”
—
—
Yoongi bobs in the recording booth while you do the same and await his first masterpiece.
And as he spits line after line, you hype him up, grabbing your chair arm and yelling out as he completes another rhyme.
Fuck, he’s good and quick-witted, which is inherently a turn on for you and launching you into his magnetic stratosphere. You start getting up to bounce in place, and he raps to the rug as you keep encouraging him to continue. He can’t hear you, but he can see you, and you’re certain those flashing smiles are for your antics.
It’s amazing how Yoongi can just do this. He’s truly a genius, and you’re starting to wonder what other artistic prowess he has. You would be fine just sitting on the back couch and watching him work any day of the week. Why haven’t you been doing this sooner?
Well. There are two pretty damn obvious reasons.
The beat bumps and bumps after he finally finishes, and you wait the designated seconds before cutting the recording line. Something about letting it run a bit as to not cut off the backend off his recorded part.
Just like that, Yoongi’s done with two out of the three songs he wrote in that waiting room. You shout in vehement support as he grins at your bouncing, standing ovation. As he comes through the recording door, you buzz at his amused as hell question, “What are you even doing in here?”
“Uhh, hyping you up? That was so good!”
His laugh creases those beautiful, spectacled eyes. “It’s just one verse per song!”
“Just one—let me try,” you command, settling back into your rolling chair. “Run it again and watch me.”
“Oh, yeah?” A few hisses of laughter shoot out as he peers up at the overhead screen. “Let’s see it then.”
The beat starts and you try to find a good first line to rhyme with. And this is meant to demonstrate to Yoongi that he is miles above everyone in rapping, but you start to get into it, using the simplest sentences and shouts and making your lover laugh his ass off.
But he’s egging you on and bobbing his head so enthusiastically that you’re somehow finding all the right words to say, elated when he shouts and looks at you with hearts in his eyes.
Your chuckle is softer and softer as you stop. “What?”
“You’re so perfect.”
Your cheeks sizzle right underneath. “You just say that because you’re happy.”
“I am happy,” Yoongi says without hesitation, which makes your heart soar. “But you’re also perfect.”
You cannot deal with this level of affection right now. Not when you both came for him to work on something important. Plopping into the rolling chair again, your stomach flips as it leans back a bit. “And you need to focus,” you order, rolling close and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You have one more to go, if my counts are correct.”
His eyes have a very intentional glint as he creases them at you, but he lets you steadily roll to the side as he looks at the console. “I have to move some tracks around, so this might take a sec. If you get bored, though, tell me and we can leave.”
“Not until you’re done.”
Yoongi looks at you again, and he watches your smile. “You sure?”
When you nod, you take hold of your phone and lean into the plush but firm back of the chair. Unlocking your screen, you hum, “I’ll keep myself busy somehow.”
“Come here.”
Although low, Yoongi’s voice is more than enough to get your attention. Head raising, you see him angling himself towards you before rising out of his seat.
Wait. What’s he doing? You know he’s supposed to be working. You both agreed this wouldn’t result in any funny business. But your throat remains closed and silent under those eyes. Fuck, they’re smoldering. Seriously, what is he doing?
Leaning down, Yoongi places firm hands on your armrests, caging you in and letting his chain swing free, “I said come here.”
Well. If he doesn’t give a shit? Fuck it then.
You giggle before willfully meeting his lips, neck craning to reach him and swooning at the way his cold silver hits your throat. You’re nowhere near a bed nor couch anymore, but that’s exactly where your mind wanders for the quickest of seconds.
Turns out, you aren’t the only one. Your mind has company. And it, along with your whole body, shivers at the next words pouring like liquid, spiced honey from that devilishly curved mouth,
“I know we said what we said.”
“Uh huh…”
“But following the rules.. hasn’t exactly been my style.”
Your breath hitches at those mischievous eyes. “Even if they’re yours?”
Yoongi lets out a breath of a laugh, like he knew you would ask that and he’s got his answer loaded in the chamber. “Doll, there’s only one set of rules I wouldn’t break.”
“And which ones are—”
Snatching your quick lips, he kisses butterflies into your belly before gripping your chin, holding your gaze and melting you with one syllable.
“Yours.”
Maybe you’re about to pass away in a studio. But at least you’d have an excuse to stay in here forever now, because you could listen to Yoongi perform and record every day of your life.
“The number of times…” He kisses you again, chaste and full. “I’ve thought about you in here…”
“Me…?” You breathe out before your eyes slip shut in another kiss. “Why?”
“One, I think about you everywhere.” He kisses your neck. “And two? Just cus I shouldn’t.”
You suddenly get an idea. About a home studio that you certainly can put to use. But this one would have to do—
“Alright, old man,” you stop his next advance with a stiff arm. “Get to work before I make you.”
“Ugh.” Yoongi rises with a deep chuckle. “You’re lucky I love that.”
“I know you do.”
“This is the last one anyway,” he notes, picking up his notebook and tapping it with a pen. “Just wanna make sure you’re fine hearing it.”
“Of course I am, baby.” You roll up to the workstation as Yoongi loads a file into the interface. Based on the ones you already heard, you know why he’s asking you about this third track. Now you’re even more nervous to be in the room. “I’m not the one paying for the studio time.”
His cheeks leap to the sky when he grins at the monitors, shifting things around the screen with the deftness of a professional. “Why do you seem so comfy here?”
Your heart follows through the roof. Because you have the same feeling, but you already know the reason. It’s working right in front of you. “Because this is your home,” you respond through a smile. “And I can finally see why.”
His hands pause as emotions race across his face. And while you think you can pick some of them out, a few of them border on melancholic. Regardless, you’re sticking to your answer, eyeing him when he faces you one more time.
Bending, he cups your chin so, so tender. “You’re my home,” he corrects with a whisper, and your heart glows with his soft kiss to your cheek. “Now stop distracting me, brat.”
Oh, he’s got to be joking! “What did I do!”
Yoongi simply laughs as he checks everything over. With a tap of his fingers, he seems satisfied, so he heads into the recording room. “Just remember to do the same thing.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
Exhaling from your mouth, you watch as he slips on headphones and adjusts the mic. When he gives you a thumbs up, you give him a nod, hitting record and letting music flood the studio.
And your entire body is surrounded by a desperate sense of longing, wildly different from the first two songs, and you slowly stand because you can’t do anything else.
You understand everything now.
Why Yoongi wouldn’t leave your side, why he was so eager to see you. You feel it now, too. This pull, this yearning, this overwhelming feeling in your chest that is tugging you closer and closer to him. There aren’t many words yet, but you understand what he’s trying to convey.
This man can have the universe and then some.
When Yoongi notices your tear-stained cheeks, he holds your gaze before slowly slipping his headphones down his hanging head.
It takes everything for you to stop the recording, shaking as you slowly walk to the recording room entrance. As you open the door, it feels more than symbolic, and a pang rings in your chest at the sight of Yoongi’s reddened eyes.
So you bolt, crushing him into a hug and letting all those moments of separation and confusion and anger fall from your eyes. It’s not just a song, it’s a plea. It’s a cry for help. And you’re gonna answer it every single time.
“I’m here, Yoongi,” you whisper. “I’ll always be here.”
He doesn’t look when you cup his chin.
“Baby, look at me.” He finally does, and your chest tightens so quick you choke. “It’s gonna be alright.”
“You think so.”
“Yes.” You smile, giving him a calming kiss that gets your point across. Then another to his cheek. And another to his forehead. Nothing heated. Nothing intense. Only the purest connection. “I’ll always lo—”
Every hair you have stands on end.
Because a booming intercom buzzes across the room with a crackle and a snap, and all your peace flees as you snap your head to the window.
Blanching at the person watching on the other side.
“Yoongi, what the fuck?”
—
—
tbc :)
-
how did we enjoy the last drop!! | join the server!
a/n: AND THE WHOLE PART IS UPPPPP woohoo! thank you all for bringing such joy and love to this series that means the world to me. i cannot have asked for a cooler community, and knowing you guys have been waiting for this all this time? i could cry. even after all this time, you're still here. or you're just finding this series and joining us on this journey. thank you all for being here, and here's to... well... The Big Events. #prayForMe #willBeCryingOnMyKeyboard
++ feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like!
⇥ here!
++ more links:
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a/n 2: we did this for 3tanfugue and the energy was great! just like last time, some of you guys suggested that we have post goals to encourage interaction. no one voted against it yet, so we'll keep it goin!
note goal: since we're back in main storyline, upping the goal! 1,000 notes is the goal, so when we hit that, 3tan14 will be dropped as soon as it's done! thank you all for reading and would love to hear any thoughts: what did you like about the chapter? how did a certain scene make you feel? what are you excited to see next? any shares, comments, tags, and reblogs with commentary count, and i appreciate anything you guys have to say.
Finally got a chance to read this and OH MY GOD!! I love all the domestic content in this chapter. Cooking together, him giving her a key, telling her she’s his home 🥹🥹🥹 not to mention the amazing smut.
AND THE END I s2g if that’s her brother I’ll die
I just love this couple so much! If you haven’t read 3tan yet, 10/10 recommend
title: angel (m)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken pt. 1 | broken pt. 2 | fugue pt. 1 | fugue pt. 2 | fugue pt. 3 | fugue pt. 4
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: right before he leaves, your brother’s conversation makes your heart stop. and it forces you to make a decision that you need to stick to, no matter what the future holds.
note: it’s been.. two years since the last main storyline update. many things have happened since then, i’ve learned more about myself, and touched more grass than ever. but we’re finally back to our scheduled tangerine programming, and it feels so surreal. incredibly grateful to everyone that has stayed, and welcome to all of you that are new to the 3tan universe!
note 2: also, happy birthday to @somebodydoesluv, @al3ejandra, @kittenwithpearls, @jaeyunbaeun, and anyone else who is celebrating around this time! may you all celebrate a prosperous and healthy year around the sun.
warnings: how it starts LOL, language, explicit scenes, angst, tension, overthinkers overthinking, sibling fights, abandonment mentions, yoongi in those gd glasses again, jimin…?, obligatory kissing warning, everyone being a ride or die i’m weeping, we give the yoongi the business oops, ermm did i say angst, crying, hand holding since it’s a warning now, weapon mentions, wound mentions, yoongi on the phone :), blanket kicks incoming, feelings at an all time peak, fluff??, bro best bro, yoongi in tanks….., vmin best vmin, reader is so strong, but both siblings just need hugs man😩, studio………. time……?, things get so nasty i was blushing y’all ngl
explicit warnings: under the cut and dear god help me lmao
mood: off my face - justin bieber ; ojitos lindos - bad bunny
drop date: july 14th, 2026, 7:17pm est
word count: 25.5k…….. :’)))
explicit warnings: cursing, thigh riding, cowgirl, oral (m rec), naughty studio time(??), couch sex, rough sex, giving yoongi the business, bold as fuck reader, choking, spanking, penetrative sex, kissing deserves to be here too lol, alexa play no hands by waka flocka, deep throating, hair/head tugging, nipple play, yoongi in that gd tank, yoongi in those gd glasses, teasing, titty fucking hello!!!!, stripping while he watches…. yeah, missionary, sub!3tanyoongi?????, scratching, multiple orgasms, protected sex, emotional sex, the glasses.. stay on??, good god they’re so hot i’m blushing
—
—
It’s morning when Jimin gets a call.
Shifting in sheets that aren’t his, he sleepily blinks once before eyeing the blue light with a squint, wondering who dares wake him up before his natural rise. What time even is it anyway? It’s gotta be an ungodly hour if his circadian rhythm is disturbed.
Still, he grabs his cell from the nightstand, flinching at the movement behind him and inwardly slinging out curses.
Because waking him up is one thing.
But if anyone disturbs Taehyung he’s gonna give them hell—
Min Yoongi: Incoming Call
Shit.
Jimin yanks the covers off, rushing out of bed and snapping Tae awake anyway. For what? Don’t fucking know, but they’re ready. Wherever. Whatever. They already stayed up clutching their phones until they physically couldn’t keep their eyes open.
Because as much as Yoongi assured him nothing would happen, Jimin still couldn’t let go of his car keys.
Answering slow, he feels his chest winding and winding, eyes locked with Taehyung while they both wait on edge, “…Yoongi?”
“Yeah.”
Thank the fucking stars.
Yoongi’s okay. He’s on the line. He made it to morning or whatever fucking time it is, and he’s doing exactly what he said he would.
And it’s enough, enough, enough.
Burns zing up the corners of Jimin’s eyes, and he swipes hard as Taehyung moves, likely to hear what’s happening and even more likely to just be by his side.
Jimin is grateful for either one. But he tries to keep composure as he croaks, “You better have woken me up for a reason.”
The slight hum on the line induces a wobbly smile. “You slept?”
“Fuck you,” Jimin shakily laughs, wiping liquid relief from an eye before Taehyung’s thumb brushes tenderly over the other. His gaze is thankful while continuing, “We did but not much.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Sniffling, Jimin walks to Tae’s door, letting him into the hallway first and finally drinking in the sight of his ass in those sweats. Because he can finally function like a normal, smitten loser again. “We’ll come over so we can—”
“No need.”
“What?” Nope. Back to panic mode. And judging from his boyfriend’s posture, Taehyung has backpedaled into that, too. “What do you mean no need?”
There’s a slight pause on the line, and small noises make their way through the speaker. It sounds like bedsheets, but it also sounds like…
“She’s still sleeping.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
A tidal wave of relief crashes into Jimin’s ducts as he hangs his head, palming his face caught in a heavy tide of emotion. When he turns, Taehyung fairs no better, his eyes red and fingers wiping at a perfect, perfect cheek. One of them sniffles, but Jimin can’t tell if it’s him or not, because his vision is blurry and his heart is beating, beating, beating again.
Whether you know it or not, whatever you did last night may have just changed Yoongi’s entire life.
Because Jimin knows this man through and through. Years of picking up his habits and tells didn’t amount to nothing. It’s how he was able to sense exactly when to intervene, and how he knew exactly what that hauntingly hollow tone in Yoongi’s voice meant when he busted in that day.
The tone he hears now? The man that just spoke on the line?
That is a Min Yoongi so in love he can’t even hide it over the phone.
Fuck.
Gathering himself, Jimin squeaks out, “I… I’m glad you…” What the fuck does he say? Every thought jams in his throat so hard he has to hand the phone off.
Thankfully, Taehyung perfectly continues his thoughts, voice scratching rocks under a waking river, “We’re glad you’re both safe.”
“Mm.”
“So when’s the wedding?”
Jimin huffs through a fresh batch of tears, clearing his face before grinning at Tae very seriously awaiting an answer. Honestly, at this point? It’s not far-fetched. Jimin’s seeing your future clearer than his present, and maybe he will be a fun uncle sooner than he thinks.
If only Yoongi would just get the fucking talk with your brother over with.
But Jimin understands the hesitation. If he were in that same position, there’s no telling when he would be courageous enough to stand up to the guy. There’s a reason he’s quick to command a room, and his lifelong mission to protect his younger sister made him grow up a lot faster than everyone else.
Still… Yoongi just deserves to be happy. And you’re the very obvious answer to helping with that.
As much as he may have wanted some chances of his own, Jimin is grateful you found your way into his best friend’s heart. Not just anyone is invited inside, and even less people can truly be allowed to stay.
And you’re probably the only one that has permanent residence.
“You guys should get some sleep.”
Taehyung pouts right on cue, and Jimin can’t fight those sleepy, droopy eyes. “You didn’t answer me.”
Cute as fuck! He must be stopped. Taking the phone, Jimin speaks into the line fully recovered, shooting his cheeky partner a teasing glare, “We will if you get some, too.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Got some things to do at the studio—”
“No!” They reject together, both equally as appalled because what the fuck kinda answer is that?
“After what happened last night? Are you crazy?”
“What happened to spending time with her? Men!”
“He’s going on a business trip, I can’t lose to him.”
“So what?” Tae asks before they both share an even further confused look. Yoongi may be a lovesick fool but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be a dumbass! “You’re just gonna leave her alone?”
There’s a sigh on the line before Jimin plants a hand on his hip. “Not just that. You gotta rest, too, bro. If she doesn’t tell you to take it easy or at least get checked—which she will—we’re going over there to annoy you.”
“You serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious.” Jimin cocks his head and leans closer to the phone. “At least rest easy for the next couple days. Especially if you have all this time to see each other.”
The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Your brother is leaving for his trip and Yoongi caught some unfortunate hits to his ribs. The dude basically has a free pass to spend the whole week with you, and he’s not even taking full advantage of it? Oh, the things Jimin has to say about the thin line of work ethic and relationship effort.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it for a long time,” Taehyung cuts in before Jimin can pop off, walking away into the living room.
It’s fine. Let him figure out that you aren’t a woman he can just leave. Frankly? That would tickle Jimin to no end to see Yoongi folding his plans so fast just to be with you.
But he spares him the tirade only because you’re fast asleep right next to him. “Thank you for calling, man.”
“Said I would.”
“I know.”
Because above all else, Jimin is happy to hear that voice. Even if it’s obvious he’s a little banged up from last night, it’s still Yoongi. In one piece. That’s all Jimin wanted, and he can’t thank you enough,
“Don’t overwork yourself, and stay with her as long as you can.”
There’s a small laugh on the other end. “I plan on it, Chim.”
And Jimin catches on to why. “I’m holding you to that then.”
—
—
Dawn breaks through open blinds, stretching its orange tint across a clean, spotless table.
You don’t know what got you up so early. But when you peer into the kitchen, you tell yourself you woke up right on time.
Because seeing Yoongi when you’re wide awake is better than any dream you’ll ever have.
Not because of his appearance, even though the sight of him sends a pang through your chest. No. It’s the way he’s quietly prepping a morning meal, using the arm on his better side that’s not sporting a nasty hit to the ribs, without you even asking.
Bits of sunlight dance right out of your eyes.
The effort. The consideration. This man shouldn’t be lifting a finger, yet here he is cooking before you even left his bed. Isn’t this the same man that got caught up in a fight hours ago? Isn’t this the same man you almost walked out on with a frozen heart?
Yes. But he’s also the same man that loves you. And you still can’t grasp that concept in any of the fingers playing with his tee you borrowed.
“Hi,” you whisper, telling him a thousand things.
To which he regards before smiling soft, voice travelling over linoleum and circling around your heart, “Morning, doll.”
Damn. You hear it. Yoongi’s sore as hell.
But instead of getting into that right away, you silently take residence by his side. Because this moment feels too delicate, and you admire his willingness to take care of you unprompted. You didn’t even know you’d eat before going back home.
With a hand warming his back, you wait until Yoongi’s done tossing food on the stove to peck his morning-chilled cheek. “Thank you for cooking,” you murmur, admiring those beautiful brown eyes. “Sleep okay?”
“Cus of you,” your lover softly responds, eyeing your lips before gliding back up to your gaze. “You?”
Ugh. He’s gotta know those glasses are so unfair. They’ve gotten you repeatedly before, and they’re certainly getting you now.
But you can’t help but deflate at the cuts behind those rims, while knowing there are even more bruises hiding underneath his oversized tee. How is Yoongi cooking right now? How is he even awake? “Same.”
“Good.”
These instant, deep shivers at his deeper morning voice will never, ever go away. But anything you wanna do about them isn’t important right now. Right now, you need to make sure Yoongi is either okay, or finds a way to get better.
Sliding your hands down the slopes of his chest, you delicately rest one on his ribs. “Does it still hurt?”
Yikes. That wince is enough. But Yoongi doesn’t shy away from your touch, and you appreciate the way he stays honest. “It’s sore. But I should be good.”
“You gonna get it checked?”
There’s a slight upward tilt of his lips. “Not right now.” At least the honesty persists, as much as you don’t want him following the typical manly response to hospital visits. “But I will if you want me to.”
“Please go,” you gently urge, lest you disturb the soft morning dew before it melts with the sunrise. “For me?”
Only sizzles from the stove fill the space until Yoongi nods, and his voice is just as low and tender, “I’ll go after work.”
Oh. “You’re working today?”
Just like breakfast, you didn’t expect this, either. Frankly, you figured neither of you were gonna even think about work, much less go. Sure, he’s due a hospital visit and you owe some friends immediate explanations for your absence. But other than that, shouldn’t Yoongi be resting?
Does his craft truly mean that much?
Well, shit. You gotta respect his work ethic, that’s for damn sure. Because you would sequester yourself to your bedroom and have endless dates with your television if you were sporting a good jab or two. This music thing must mean more to Yoongi than you previously thought. And who are you to step on that dream?
Suddenly, all thoughts and concerns flee from the kiss on your cheek.
“I’ll stay if you stay,” he says, turning to move the pan and scrunching his face with a grunt. Fuck.
“I…” Shit, you were gonna go back to the house anyway. And from Yoongi’s smartass smirk, you can tell he already knew that. “Just need to check on him, too. And he doesn’t have a car right now, so. I should at least give him a ride.”
“Figured.” In a move so domestic your head spins, Yoongi turns your body and gently pats your butt. “Now go sit. Let’s eat and figure this out.”
—
—
As you devour a flawless meal and clean your dishes, you plan out the day. You’ll head home and check on your brother while Yoongi heads to the studio, and then you’ll rendezvous with your friends to hang out until he’s done with work. They’re already lighting up your phone like no one’s business—especially Yuri.
Yoongi flicks the sink off before you both head to his bedroom, and you melt at the way he slowly wraps his arms around your front halfway there, all four of your legs slowing to close the rest of the distance.
What’s he doing? This is joyfully new, but you have a pretty tight deadline. Warming his forearm and your own cheeks, you chuckle out, “We have to hustle, old man.”
“You hustle me all the time,” he accuses into your shoulder blade, kissing its ridge and making you reconsider walking out the door entirely. “Lemme have this.”
Your second laugh is more subdued, and you’re right between his bed and desk when you lift both hands to hold him close. “You have everything I got,” you wisp into his skin, planting your lips once, twice before you feel his arms press further in. “So this is nothing.”
Seconds and silence slide by, the delicate veil of early morning still hovering around the room. When Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you make to turn and face him.
But you’re stopped before your heart skips.
“I could stay like this all day,” he admits, voice so low it rumbles through your bones. “And it’d be perfect.”
“What, you don’t wanna see my face?” You joke with a giggle. “Rude, but that’s fine.”
Yoongi only buries his nose further, his glasses sliding against your skin peeking from his shirt. “I’m much braver right here, doll.”
Oh.
The leap your heart does is more of a dive, plummeting into the seafoam swirling around your feet. All the words you want to respond with jump off right after, leaving you with nothing but the clouds in your eyes.
You don’t quite know what he means by that. But it feels like those six words hold the weight of a thousand, so you simply let another kiss on his smooth forearm linger. “Do you want me to go with you?”
A puff of laughter warms you right through and, despite his earlier admission, Yoongi does slowly spin you around.
And when you follow, you realize you’re much braver when you aren’t facing him, too.
“It’s not that, babe,” he says through a dashing curve. “But the offer was cute.”
“I take it back then.”
“Damn!”
Both of your laughs whoosh out and collide, sweeping as Yoongi pinches your side and you flinch towards the bed. “You fucker—!”
Before you know it, your back hits a comforter before a weight presses your stomach, emotions clashing as you’re elated and shy and immediately concerned for your boyfriend’s side. “Baby, be careful—”
Lips capture yours, sucking up your warning before a hand slides under your head. Sighing, you arch into his chest, feeling the weight of his chains slip across your breasts.
Euphoria isn’t an adequate enough word to describe how you feel. Where there used to be flutters in your ribcage now reside strong, powerful wing beats, gusts of want and desire lifting you off the ground and launching you into clear skies. Starlight of every color exists within each kiss you share, and your fingers feebly grab his tee to keep you from falling back down to earth.
“If we don’t go now,” Yoongi rasps before sliding his mouth against yours, “We’re never going anywhere again.”
“I know,” you whisper, willingly letting him kiss you once more, “Is that a promise?”
“Fuck, I wish.”
You do, too. But you know you’re running out of time for what you need to do. And weren’t you just saying you had to respect his aspirations? Shit, you really do need to snap out of it. “Come on,” you order with a pat to his chest. “We have all week to do this. We got time.”
Turns out, you’re still amongst the heavens. The way Yoongi’s looking at you? This is the closest you’ll ever get to being held by an angel.
Did he get more handsome overnight? Or is it the light in his eyes sustained since his confession in the kitchen? You don’t quite know, and you may never pinpoint why, but the tug he has on your heart spans space and time.
And you’ll run through both forever to keep meeting him again and again.
Burns prick your eyes, but he mercifully stands before he can catch any evidence of your yearning.
Just like that, the two of you bounce back to getting ready, with him sliding notebooks and headphones in a backpack while you change into your own clothes. As you sling your bag over a shoulder, he reaches for the closest hoodie, and you wordlessly make your way to the front door.
You really do hope he gets looked at today. But just like the calm after a storm, you want to encourage him gently rather than shove him out. At least he seems receptive to your gentle suggestions.
But after you ask one more time and he simply nods, you lower your eyes to his kicks. “Sorry if I’m nagging. I’d just worry less if you went right away, that’s all.”
“You aren’t nagging, babe.” Your freshly bloomed lover reaches out to hold your wrist, smoothing a rough thumb over your skin. Fucking hell, you can’t help but frown at the gashes and cuts marring his knuckles. “I’ll go as soon as I can.”
Not just his hands, but his face. His ribs. And maybe other places you haven’t even seen yet.
You don’t wanna leave his side.
But you have to head out before your brother leaves. Things need to get patched up before he flies out into more stress, and you owe him an apology for walking out when he was still aching. Based on Yoongi’s physical state? Your brother could be hiding some big wounds and you didn’t even wanna talk to him.
However. Was last night necessary? Absolutely. You cannot entertain the possible outcomes had you not tried hard enough to get through Yoongi’s door. His eyes were so dulled, his hands felt so cold. What would have happened if you didn’t force yourself inside?
Why was that guitar smashed to pieces?
This is also why you refuse to leave. So many questions, so many things you still don’t know. Like what all happened when you were separated? And how in the hell is this man in love with you?
“I don’t wanna go,” you confess, instantly encased in his arms and warmth. “I’d much rather keep kissing you.”
“True,” he says with a resigned huff, shifting his glasses with an adorable nose scrunch. If only he didn’t have so many little red lines of conflict on his face. “But we both have stuff to take care of, so let’s get all that done first.”
“Ugh, fine.” Your groan is more teasing than serious, and Yoongi’s laugh is nothing but understanding.
Damn. You still feel it. You really don’t wanna go. Be it the rawness of last night still on your skin, or the confessions still on your tongues, you just wanna stay by his side. “Sorry,” you breathe out, lacing your fingers to pepper love along his strong, reddened ridges. “I’m serious. I don’t wanna leave you right now.”
Walking out of Yoongi’s door just doesn’t feel right. Even if he’s right there and will be following you out. Is this feeling normal? Are you supposed to feel this tightly woven to someone? Because the stitching between your hearts has only gotten stronger in the tempest of last night, as if you bonded together just to hold on for dear life.
Maybe that’s exactly what happened. And it’s exactly why you can barely take one step out of his place.
“Then don’t.”
Not one second passes before your chin is held, and lips slide so tenderly across yours that they may as well melt into your touch. Your reaction is quickly swooped into his mouth, and everything falls away as you let him seize your every thought. Lightning from last night zips out of your limbs, your toes, your fingers clasping his loose tee.
You might just cry where you stand.
How have his kisses gotten even better? How have you never felt this way even though you’ve done this far more times than you were ever supposed to? It should be impossible, and yet, this man finds even more ways to astound you.
Yoongi slips a hand over your cheek, giving one more beautiful push of his lips as he confesses, “I don’t wanna leave you, either.”
And your breath stutters onto his features. “You, too?”
Slow, he kisses your cheek, the clear rim of his specs skimming your nose. When he draws back, you look right into his eyes, wondering why he’s watching your mouth instead.
“Me, too.” Yoongi kisses your other side with a quiet peck. “Fuck, me, too.”
You fucking hate what you have to do, but you don’t have a choice.
With one last lingering kiss, you both gather enough courage to set out and do what you must.
—
—
Your house is already a flurry of activity as you enter to see your brother in the kitchen, packing his leather duffle that’s a constant companion on his trips.
Of course. The memory of him purchasing the lavish accessory pops into your head every time you watch him scurry around, dimples ever present on his proud cheeks. It’s almost enough to make you smile yet again.
But you can’t when the same face is currently scratched to hell. Just like Yoongi’s, if not worse.
Fuck, is he really gonna travel looking like that?
“Hey,” he rasps out, still fighting off slumber. “You’re back earlier than I thought.”
“Wanted to check on you before we left.” Fuck, your voice sounds like it’s being forced through a clogged pipe. Loosen the hell up! “And dude. Put some bandaids on, yeah?”
“Yeah, just give me a sec. Making sure I have everything before my ride gets here.”
“Huh?” He got a ride? You’re here now so you can take him to the airport. “You sure you don’t need me to drive you?”
“Yeah, it’s all good. I didn’t know you were coming back.”
Shit. His body seems just as angular as it did last night. Which, quite frankly, could still be from what went down in the lot.
Because even though you see both men banged up, you suddenly realize you don’t actually know what all transpired.
After all, there wasn’t much talk of it after you walked into the tempest of Yoongi’s living room.
Of course, you aren’t gonna bring it up just this second. There are other things to ask about and make sure of first. “Wallet? Phone? Passport?”
“Yup, yup, uhh.. Yup.”
Zippers sling in the quiet morning air as you continue, “And you’re coming back on Friday, right?”
“Oh.. Nah.” When you start crossing the kitchen, your brother hauls his leather bag over his better shoulder. Honestly, no one would be able to tell the other one’s bruised with his suit on. That thing damn well covers everything except the cuts on his face and hands. “Saturday.”
You pause in your journey to the medicine cabinet. “Wait.. Saturday? The release party’s on Friday.”
“Yeah.. I know.”
What the fuck? That’s bullshit they’re keeping him longer than they have to. Struggling to understand how corporate can keep your brother on a leash and get away with it, you urge, “Tell them to at least let you go home a day early. Don’t you wanna support your friends?”
“You mean Yoongi?”
A zing of terror zips through your eyes, freezing every vein in an instant.
The fuck was that question? Never mind. Stay calm stay calm stay fucking calm. “Uhh, yeah, he’s one of them? But the other guys, too, right? I know you care about them and this is huge.”
Mercifully, your sibling just shakes his head and waves you off. “Don’t you think I already tried? I don’t wanna miss it but I don’t have a choice. Conference schedule is pretty tight and I’m heading the panel on Friday.”
“Is it in the morning? You can fly out after—”
“Why are you fighting so hard?”
“Why aren’t you fighting harder!”
Okay, what in the hell is happening right now? Screw optics and how this must look for you, your brother needs to be there. Him and Yoongi are the tightest of friends, the most ride or die duo you’ve ever seen. You can’t picture a timeline where he misses this monumental moment, and it’s starting to really upset you that he’s barely trying.
“You think I’m not fighting for it?”
“I certainly don’t think you’re trying enough—”
“Alright, you know what?” Hard steps surge forward as you stand rigid, a duffle hastily dumped onto tile. “You don’t know what I’ve tried. You don’t even know if I even told him yet.”
Fucking shit. You hold his stare before turning away, tossing out the idea of bandages entirely and searing footsteps into the hallway—
“Or do you.”
Before icing over with the unforgiving frost of zero gravity space.
Slow, you turn, not quite facing him but not backing down, either. “…Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You talkin’? What else has he been doing to you?”
Oh. Fuck that.
Doing to you?
Fuck all of this. This is too much to handle right now and you know you’re gonna snap if he keeps pushing because you are not having this conversation right before he leaves. You’ve already thought about this before, right? You cannot fuck with his head right before business trips because he needs to be on and locked in.
But now he’s fucking with your temper and those are some choice fucking words pulled out of his ass.
You don’t think you’ve ever legitimately threatened this man to his face and meant it before, and it tears a sharp corner of your heart, “You better be very careful. With whatever you wanna say next.”
The air proves too thick to slice. While your body stands aflame, your brother is iced over, brimming with an energy that damn near takes physical form. “All I’m saying is? I find out some fucking bullshit is going on—”
No no no, not now.
Reacting fast is your only instinct, brain haywire and fizzling fizzling boiling. Harsh, you spin on your heel and shout the first thing you can think of, “Oh, come on—”
“You better hope to god you’re ready for what’s coming—”
“Stop!” Fuck fuck fuck, this is so frustrating because your head is exploding and your body is screaming to just tell him already. Fuck the consequences at this point this is ludicrous.
Doing to you? Yoongi? How dare he speak about his best friend like that how dare he accuse him without outright saying the words all you have to do is tell your brother how wrong he’s got it.
But you can’t be the one. Yoongi said he would, and he probably took months to get to that point of strength—and healing, from what you can tell.
This is between them. Them. You have to honor that, as much as you wanna just confess everything now and deal with it yourself.
But goddamn your brother is pulsing with anger and it’s leaking into your own charged air.
What does he think is happening? Does he think Yoongi’s just, what, playing you? He’s wrong. He’s so wrong. Yoongi’s been nothing but the best thing that’s ever happened to you and shit your heart hurts because…
Your brother is valid in thinking that.
How foolish. Didn’t you guard your heart from Yoongi for the longest? Didn’t everything start because you figured you knew who he was because of his reputation? You got him all wrong, too. So how can you be mad at your brother for doing the same?
Fuck, think. Just think before someone gets hurt.
Because if you aren’t careful, someone—or multiple someones—will get hurt in seconds. You have to bear the pain alone right now. To protect them both, you have to keep your trembling mouth shut.
And? You have to admit that something isn’t fair here. Not to you, not to Yoongi, but to him. Last night was rough as fuck but, while you both got to have raw, beautiful closure, the one standing in front of you had to go to sleep in an empty house.
So chill the fuck out.
Breathing to cool down, you tense and loosen, tense and loosen. “I get it. You’re angry, and you have a lot going on. But,” you bite down on your lip to keep going. “We’re talking about something else. We’re talking about you, and I’m still pissed you even let those guys goad you into a fight. What are we, twelve?”
Seething, your sibling takes the switch of pace. But it is not what you want to hear. “Are you seri—? What the hell was I supposed to do? That son of a bitch grabbed you—”
“I know,” you recoil. “Don’t tell me like you were there, because you weren’t.”
Finally—finally—those angry lines in his face vanish.
But they make way for something much worse than anger. Because your older brother, someone that’s been there for you your whole life..
Looks absolutely stricken over the one time he wasn’t.
Damn it.
Regretful, you drop your shoulders in exhaustion and quiet compromise. When you continue, your voice is much softer, “But I told you: they were. Your friends, they were there because they knew you wanted that. Jimin got me away, Yoongi took me home and stayed.”
You really have got to stop saying his name like you love him. It could start becoming too obvious.
Shuddering, you shift your weight, folding your arms and shrinking into yourself.
That night, despite Yoongi’s best and most gentle efforts, still clings to where that loser touched you at Dalo. You hate that you haven’t gotten over it, and you loathe the way you still rub over the same spot. Over, and over. “What did you want him to do? Leave me here?”
“No.”
“Exactly. And he didn’t.” You adjust your stance again, making an impromptu gamble as you decide to let some truth leak out. Because your brother is owed at least this much. “And fine, you wanna know something? We do talk more because of it.”
Your brother’s head snaps up, and you brace. Because if you show any shred of weakness or hesitation, he’ll see right through your weak attempt to hide most of the truth,
“But don’t ever accuse him of doing anything to me. That was fucked up to say and you know it.”
“Fuck.” In agreement, he rubs his hair back. “It was. I’m sorry.”
“Trust me,” you swallow, hating that this is how things have to be for now. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s never.. Never done anything to me, anyway.”
It’s not a lie. Everything he’s done has been with you. For you. Because of you.
But your heart’s in anguish as it sinks. Because that expression on your older sibling’s face can only be one thing.
Pure. Utter. Relief.
Fire singes your eyes before you can quell the flame. It’s the hardest technical truth to swallow.
Sure, he doesn’t have anything to worry about as far as you being safe. And on top of that, he doesn’t have to worry about any fake shit because Yoongi confessed to you last night.
But as far as his best friend sleeping with and now dating his sister behind his back? That is still very much sitting right in the center of the table.
And now you’re starting to see just how fucked all three of you are as soon as you sit down to eat the truth.
But Yoongi said he’d be the one to tell, so he will.
This feeling is so fucking miserable, though.
In the end, your brother is effectively convinced, raking a hand across his head and sighing. “Jimin told me what all went down at Dalo, I just… Last night was… Fucked up.”
“Well, yeah.”
“No. See, this is just like what you said to me. You can’t say it like you were there.”
It’s your stomach’s turn to twist. “So? You were scratched and bruised to hell, and Y…” Shut up, shut up. You’re not supposed to know about the state of anyone else. “And you were… quieter.”
“Because of what happened, dude.”
You blink. “What… What happened?”
Your brother looks at you—really looks at you.
And suddenly, your gut flares in terror, storming in an instant across your abdomen.
“That bitch pulled something on us.”
Your heart.
It’s in freefall.
“Wait… What?” You can’t even form more than one syllable at a time, your legs turning gelatinous and knees starting to give out. “No… What are you…?”
What the fuck did he just say? That bitch pulled a what?
Your sibling slowly walks toward you once again, watching like he’s just waiting for you to say anything. Do anything.
But you’re a complete statue because all you can think about is the horror of something happening and the relief that nothing happened all at once.
Was Yoongi too scared to mention that part? Is this why he was holding back and shaking every time he reached out to touch you? Even this morning, he was so…
You’ve never seen him like that. Is this why?
Your mind is swirling and crashing, overlapping each passing thought and scream running through your head. “I’m so sorry,” you hitch out, “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Didn’t wanna scare you,” he sighs out. Putting both hands on his hips, your brother stops feet away, visibly still shook as he pierces wooden planks with his stare. “But he pulled it right before Yoongi… and if it weren’t…Fuck.”
Burns flare and slice through your eyes when he has to pause. What is he trying to say? Pulled what?
Before Yoongi what?
Your brother continues, and your throat tightens. “If it weren’t for some random ass sirens, I… Things could’ve been so different.”
What the fuck is happening. What the hell are you hearing?
“It was probably dumb as fuck. But I was so fucking angry,” he grits out, watery eyes crushed looking your way. “So fucking mad at how he was talking about you, I.. Walked right up to him and told him to fuck off.”
You can’t even breathe.
“I still feel it,” he quietly adds, fingers pressed against his side. “Right here.”
“Fuck,” you finally choke out, eyes on fucking fire.
“But all I knew was to keep you all safe,” he says, with hardened resolve and a wobbly chin. “And that’s exactly what I did. I did that shit, even if that meant—”
Tears fling out of your eyes, flowing hot down your cheeks because you wouldn’t want any of them to go out that way. Nothing happened nothing happened nothing happened and yet your body is acting as if something did and it hurts.
Your brother is there as soon as you crumple forward, letting you bury your head in his chest and sob your heart out. For him, for his friends, and for all the time you had with the man you love so, so dearly.
If anything happened to your brother before you came clean… If anything happened before you and Yoongi could even…
Suddenly, you feel equal weights of guilt. For running out on your brother. And for almost walking out on Yoongi.
You decide an apology is in order for both of them, and all the understanding in the world for Yoongi’s frosted demeanor as soon as you get him alone again.
And you are one hundred percent going to tell your brother everything once he’s back.
The tears cannot stop, and you’re sure you are crying unimpeded in a pressed and primmed suit. “I’m so sorry,” you keep repenting like a prayer. “This is all my fault.”
“No—”
“You almost—”
“Hey, stop.” He yanks you back, both of your faces soaked with saltwater. “What did I say before? I threw the first swing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But it led to all this, I just.. I just feel so fucking stupid.”
“Don’t. Hey, look at me.” Firm but gentle, he holds you at arm’s length, forcing you to face him. “Maybe we’re both stupid, but you weren’t the idiot. I was.”
You feel so many conflicting things in your soul.
What would you have done if Yoongi was in critical condition? What would you have done differently if your brother was instead? Are they the same? Are the two situations really so different anymore?
No they aren’t they aren’t they aren’t.
“Please don’t do that again,” you shake out. “Even if it was for me, if I ever lost you, I...”
“You know I can’t promise anything.” He furrows his brows when you eye him with anger and sadness. “But nothing like that is happening again. Especially with the same dudes.”
“Okay.”
A vicious tornado of emotions sends your whole body into agonizing pain. This isn’t what you expected at all, and it’s causing your limbs to lock at the bends. Too many scenarios are jangling about yet you can’t ask for specifics because that will just make it even more real.
A nightmare is somehow better once you know it ends with you waking up. “I’m… gonna need some time to process everything.”
“I know. And I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but… You deserve to know the things I get into.”
Ah.
The irony is not lost on you.
“At least, if they involve you. We learned our lesson. You were right to tell us off.”
God. You feel numb.
“Thanks,” you murmur, suddenly immensely tired. “I think I need more sleep.”
A blaring honk sounds outside the house, and you both flinch at the noise.
And your throat burns at the way your brother instinctively swept you behind his back.
When you realize what it is, you know what has to come next.
And he’s the first to react as he turns to face you again, “Alright. I’m heading out, just remember to go get my baby when she’s fixed, yeah?”
“Do you have to go?”
Wait.
The question seems to startle him as much as it does you.
How did you blurt it right out before even registering the words? Why does your heart clench at the sight of those eyes looking so pained?
Why does everything feel so shaky within these walls that were always your home?
“I do,” he says, voice tight. “I’m sorry.”
And why the fuck do you feel sad he’s leaving?
“No, no, it’s.. Of course you have to.” You can’t help the lump in your throat from bobbing, the regret in your limbs as they barely move at your side. “I dunno why I asked, I guess I just..”
There’s no response to your sniffle.
“Sorry for yelling,” you squeak out. “I just feel really queasy.”
For a lot more reasons than one.
“We all made it out,” your brother whispers. “That’s what matters.”
“Will you… Will you at least try to be back for the party?”
The man swallows with his brows knit tight, then attempts to crack the tiniest smile. “You know I will. That’s my guy.”
“Okay.” You nod, sniffling again. After what he just told you? You know he’ll do anything for the ones he loves. “See you there.”
Your brother rubs a comforting palm over your head before turning, heading for the door and grabbing his leather duffle.
When he stops to glance at you one more time, you give a little wave of your hand before watching the door click shut.
Chest caving as you collapse to the ground in tears.
—
—
The need to call Yoongi burns so harshly your fingers damn near set your top aflame.
But he’s at work, and you can’t fuck things up right when you’re approaching the finish line. You almost did with your brother, and that gave you twelve heart attacks in the span of minutes.
Still. Your chest aches so much that a thirteenth could very well be approaching. You don’t even realize you’re bracing the hallway wall for support until you try to stand, back sore and aching from bending so far for so long.
What did your brother mean to say about Yoongi? What did that coward pull on them? Do you even want to know what happened?
Fighting back tears, you reach down for your phone, shakily typing out a message only to erase it. Then again. And again.
And again.
Giving up, you forcefully swallow all your worries, cringing at the bitterness of the unknown and the burnt molasses of hidden truths.
It’s going to be okay. No matter what you think or imagine in your head, they made it out, they made it out, they are all alive.
That’s the only reason you can move forward, each step getting you from your room. To your bathroom.
And back again.
—
—
After showering, you feel lighter and refreshed, though the soreness between your legs has yet to leave.
But you wouldn’t want it any other way, as it’s another reminder of Yoongi’s apparent brush with survival. His broken living room spurned the creation of your bond, your devotion to him as he confessed before you gave him your utmost trust in his sheets.
The end is so close. As soon as this week is over, you’ll rip the last bit of peel from your pair of tangerines, baring all truths to your brother and facing the consequences.
Finally ready, you head to your car, opening your text threads with a plan: start slow.
Start with something that can be interpreted neutrally if anyone saw it on his phone screen, especially if your headstrong ex is in the room.
You [12:31pm]: how are you feeling?
Yoongi [12:34pm]: 1 Attachment
You close your door with brows furrowed.
Yoongi’s at the hospital?
That’s not what you expected at all.
Your chest swells with relief knowing he’s there, but you also wanna make sure he’s feeling okay. Especially his mental state after whatever the fuck your brother just dropped on you before leaving.
Goddamn, that’s going to gnaw at your brain until you find the right time and right amount of courage to ask about it. Because it’s very possible Yoongi won’t tell you.
Because it’s probably something he knows you won’t like.
Fuck.
You [12:34pm]: Loved an Attachment
You [12:34pm]: thank you for listening🤍 still sore?
Yoongi [12:35pm]: Yeah, but not bad. Just there.
Wait. He’s not at the studio. That means you can—
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you slowly say as you pull out into the street. “I’m driving now so this is easier.”
“Course. You going to Tae’s?”
“Maybe. I’m going to Yuri’s first.” You swallow, realizing that you didn’t tell him about what you let slip before driving over. “I.. Told her. About you.”
There’s a little bit of silence on the line, just some adjustments and muffled speaker sounds. “Sorry, just writing this down. What’s wrong with that?”
You huff through your nose. Gotta be those patient forms that always take forever to fill out. “Oh. Just more and more people knowing, is all.”
“Everyone’s gonna know eventually.”
You hold back a small smile. Because he’s right. “Yeah. I’m just tired of this feeling.”
“Like you’re hiding something.”
It’s your turn for silence. He doesn’t know how accurately that was played out today. The only answer you can provide is a curt, “Exactly.”
“Same.”
Wings beat around your heart again.
He wants this. Yoongi really, really wants this. And years ago, that outcome wouldn’t have even crossed your mind as an option.
“Thank you for going, baby.”
“The guys made me.”
You hum. “Which ones.”
After a pause, you hear a puff of amusement. “All of them at some point today, actually.”
All of them? Does that include your brother? Did they talk about the trip already?
Your laugh is bittersweet. “Well. Glad to know you can be forced by everyone else except me.”
“Hey, I was already gonna go because of you!” Yoongi quietly retorts, and you giggle at the pout in his words. “Just wanted to get a headstart on work first.”
You were right. He really does wanna go all out for his musical endeavors.
It’s extremely admirable, and wildly attractive, but it does come to a point. “As much as I love your passion, old man, I wanna keep you upright.”
He laughs soft into the line, and you think you can listen to that specific sound on an infinite loop. “That’s fair.”
“How long is it gonna take, you think?”
“Dunno. But I’ll keep myself busy until I’m out.”
Of course he will. You don’t doubt he won’t waste any time. Didn’t he bring journals in his backpack? You wouldn’t be surprised if he wrote ten thousand songs before being called in. “Just call me if you need anything, please?”
“Of course, babe.”
“Thank you,” you say with utmost sincerity. “If only my brother would be less stubborn and get checked, too.”
“He’ll probably do it once he gets there.”
“Did you convince him?”
“Nah. But once he knows I did, he’ll do it.”
“Figures.” You scoff. “Okay, I’m almost there. Let me know how it goes.”
“K. Bye, doll.”
You didn’t ask him what went down. But it’s not the time nor place, and you have plenty of chances this week to figure out when that would be—if at all.
“Talk soon.”
—
—
For a normally bustling household, Yuri’s house is quiet.
So it’s not shocking when you walk into the kitchen and see all your friends glance your way, slowly vacating their chairs with eyes never leaving your face. Even Reia is on high alert.
Did Yuri tell her? Did Yuri tell anyone else?
No. She’s a talker and loves spilling, but she promised. And when she promises something, you know you can trust her to keep it.
It’s what pours emotion in your voice as you meekly greet, “Hey, guys—”
A crushing hug closes your throat. Yuri’s the one that gets to you first, with Reia and Dominique waiting their turns to offer you healing, relieved embraces.
“What happened?”
“Scared us half to death.”
Dom puts you at arm’s length to give a once over, noting your face rubbed raw and eyes still a little bloodshot. Thankfully, her pupils hold more concern than disappointment. “You good?”
Your eyes wobble alongside your smile, and you think it’s enough proof. “More than that,” you still decide to whisper, and your heart beats again at her reaction.
“Thank god. I was ready to kick your ass if you weren’t.”
Heading up to Yuri’s room, you all wait until the door is swung back before mounting her canopy bed, sitting in a tight circle as you divulge everything.
Well. Almost everything.
You tell them that Yoongi is the one you’ve been seeing, how you went to check on him last night in a panic, and the terrifying reason why. When you mention the fight after the basketball game, all three of your friends erupt in questions, and you have to assure them everything turned out okay. Honestly, you also do this to assure yourself, too.
“So… Your brother’s just fine with all of this?” Reia asks, not noticing the tick of Dom’s jaw.
“Well,” you start with a higher pitch, earning a pair of groans. “He doesn’t exactly know yet—”
“Yup. He’s gonna murder him.”
“Yeah, should we say our condolences now or..”
“How long has this been going on?” Reia fires off another question that digs into your chest. “Was he the one you were seeing the whole time?”
“Yes,” you admit with a sigh. “I should’ve told you guys from the beginning, but. The whole thing just felt so delicate. But! We just started making things official recently, so..”
Dom turns your way. “Official how?”
Well. Here goes everything.
With a shaky breath, and lingering feelings from the time it happened, you reveal with watery eyes, “Yoongi… Told me he loves me.”
Both Yuri and Reia react in yelps, Dom’s gaze lowering as the girls reach to grab your hands.
Wait. What’s going on with her? She’s the one that knows the most, she’s the one that covered for you all those months ago. She has to be the one that is the least surprised at all this.
Blinking, you note to confront her about it later. Right now, you’re too focused on trying not to cry as your friends tumble out questions and support,
“He said it? Did you say it first or did he?”
“How did it happen! Oh, I’m so happy for you, babe—”
“Thank—thank you, Yuri,” you squeeze out as she hugs you close. “I couldn’t believe it, but he just.. Said it. We weren’t even doing anything, I was just.. Looking up what injuries he could have..”
And he confessed in the most Yoongi fashion he could have.
Looking back, it shouldn’t shock you at all. He’s always found ways to sweep you off your proverbial feet, so why would a confession plucked from the heavens be any different?
She lets you go before wiping her eyes, Reia and even Dom now sporting watery pupils, too.
“As much as I’m upset at you for not telling us, I’ve never been so happy for you.” When Yuri’s features crease in another sob, you sniffle along with the rest. “It’s been so long since you… And you really.. Fuck.”
You know what she’s trying to say, and the realization has your throat constricting so tight.
It’s been forever since you’ve had something like this, someone like this. When you and Jungkook were together, you told him that you loved him before he broke it off.
Sure, you bought the rings together, but he never uttered those words until years after when it didn’t even matter. And all your relationships after his were complete and utter bullshit, so you don’t think you ever even heard those three words and knew them to be true.
Yoongi was the first to ever say them so sincerely.
And that fact makes your ducts burn and burn.
And when Yuri finally speaks, it breaks the dam holding your real deluge back,
“I can’t think of anyone else that deserves to be loved more than you.”
All at once, everything streams out as you hunch forward. The pain of everything you’ve endured, the hopelessness of knowing you’d most likely end up alone, the excruciating prospect of a future that you never deemed bright, or peaceful, or comforting.
And to think that even this man could’ve been snatched away from you in a snap? Even more tears overlap with the ones you’re shedding, and you can’t even reach out to hug all three beautiful, angelic souls surrounding you with tight arms and sobs because your limbs lock at all bends.
It’s the exact release you need. All your friends supporting you, all the pent up anxiety of last night and today, the truth setting itself free in some capacity—all in the comfort of a plushie-laden bed you only doubted yourself in last time.
Everything’s gonna be alright. It has to be. You’re gonna fight for the ones you love, even if a war between them is inevitable.
It takes a few minutes of heavy silence for you all to separate, swiping and rubbing tears while letting out happy sniffles.
When you thank them for being understanding, they assure you it’s okay. And when you say you’re going to tell your brother soon, a force from the doorway has all of you leaping from lilac sheets,
“Tell him what?”
Jia stands firm with a laundry basket at her hip, and Yuri scoffs at her older sister for barging in. “A knock would’ve been nice!”
Fuck!
You can’t tell Jia of all people. If you spill anything about Yoongi, she’s one hundred percent going to tell your brother. They’re the same age, and run in pretty tight circles, so of course you are not going to risk it.
But you can tell her something else you’re going to tell your older sibling, so you fire out a half-truth,
“Tell him not to pick any other fights that could get him killed.”
Jia’s eyes zoom to your wrecked face, and she drops the laundry with haste before asking, “What happened? When? Tell me now.”
Huh. Maybe your brother has a type, if he’s still into Jia like he said before.
You feel a little spark in your chest as you let her know they all got in a scuffle after the basketball game, and another pang as she immediately abandons the room and clothes with a fierce declaration,
“I’m gonna kill them myself!”
“Don’t worry, I already hounded my brother!” You call out after her, sighing as Yuri shakes her head with a smile. “She gets like that when she’s really worried, huh.”
“Yeah..” Your friend leans to look around you, noticing the basket left alone on the ground. “And if she’s super fired up, she drops everything and doesn’t stop until it’s handled. Clearly.”
Maybe both older siblings really are similar.
The firestorm of an interruption seemed to break the tension in the room, with all of you finally relaxing and catching up. When they ask you questions, you answer what you can.
And when you divulge information that has your ears burning, their squeals and yells give you whole new reasons to live.
—
—
After a very comforting lunch Yuri’s mom cooked, you head to the bathroom when your phone suddenly vibrates through your palm.
Huh? That’s weird. You expect the name on your screen to be Taehyung, not Yoongi.
Not that it’s a bad thing. You’ve been waiting to hear from him, so this is a pleasant surprise.
Closing the door to the guest bathroom, you gaze at the calming sage decor with a smile. “Hi, how did it—”
“You’re coming over later, right?”
Oh, shit. Is he okay?
“Yes, baby,” you respond with a soothing lilt, ears perked and body on high alert.
Does he think you aren’t anymore? You both decided on the plans earlier. Surely he knows you’d never just flake on him. “I’m coming back once you’re done with work, remember?”
There’s an uncomfortable pause on the line, which makes your boyfriend’s next question jab you so far in the lungs you can’t breathe,
“…Can it be now?”
Shit.
Just like Jia earlier, you drop every plan you have to the wayside. You’re sure that Taehyung will understand, and you already got through the biggest conversation you needed to with your friends.
“Of course,” you whoosh out. “Lemme just say bye and I’ll go.”
“Take your time.” A small shuffling interrupts. “It’ll take me a bit to get back.”
“Okay. See you there.”
The strained urgency in his voice makes your hair stand on end, so you vacate the bathroom to inform the girls that you gotta go—but not without a quick head tilt towards Dom, who follows you outside and into the afternoon sun.
—
—
You wait until you’re next to your car on the street, turning with a concerned expression and jittery nerves, “What’s up with you? Did I do something wrong?”
Turns out, you read Dominique correctly. Her jaw locks before loosening, and it reminds you of the time she confronted you about Yoongi before. God, how much has changed since then. That feels like ages and ages ago.
“It’s not about you,” your best friend clears the air and the tightness in your shoulders. “I’m just.. Glad he came around.”
“Yoongi?” When Dom nods, you blink. “Wait, what?”
“At your house that night.. After he left your room, we had—I dunno, a heart-to-heart.” She sighs, flicking braids over her shoulder. You note to compliment the beads she chose this time, because they remind you of summer and simpler times. “I might’ve pressured him a bit, and.. I think he wanted to tell me that he loved you. All the way back then.”
Something in your heart stutters, and you can only repeat your last question, “What?”
“Yeah. Something about needing to do something first,” she continues, holding your gaze with perfect brows furrowed in sunlight. “But I could tell he was damn serious about whatever it was. And if he was willing to do it for you? I let it go.”
Your mind whirls.
Yoongi was already in love with you back then? Is that why he needed to let you go? To deal with whatever he had to do?
One side of you breaks thinking he had to go through all that alone; the other side is screaming at his past self for not even giving you a choice. What did he go through? What did he have to do?
Now you really have to see him. Immediately.
“Thank you, Dom,” you rush out while opening your door. “I’m just happy it’s over.”
“The hell it’s not.” Shooting you a glare that heats the oncoming breeze, she reminds, “It’s not over until your brother knows. And based on everything that’s happened? That conversation is not gonna go over well.”
A dark, simmering boil starts in your stomach, and you’re already feeling queasy again. Tightening your door handle, you gulp hard. “I know.”
“Trust me, I’m happy for you both. I am.” Both hands find her hips as she levels a gaze that you really, really don’t enjoy. “But I’m gonna be honest, I think this is gonna ruin their friendship for good.”
Both of your lungs clamp shut.
“Please don’t say that,” you beg, “I’m gonna fight for all of us. I will.”
“I don’t doubt that, babe. Hey, uh uh, come here.” Reaching out, she gives you a tight hug just when you feel fragile again.
“Listen to me. I don’t doubt that,” she says into your shoulder. “I’m just here to be realistic. Just don’t be shocked if that’s how it goes. We’ll be here for you no matter what, too.”
“Okay,” you say with a scrunched face into her scent. God, she always smells so good, and it’s almost enough to calm you down. Almost almost almost. “Thank you. But I’m not giving up.”
“That’s my girl.” She squeezes you one more time. “I love you.”
With eyes searing over, you choke and grip her tighter. “I love you, too.”
—
—
Yoongi’s door warms your back as you wait for him to show.
But there’s a good chance it can just be your volcanic anxiety.
Ever since your arrival, you’ve paced, you’ve gnawed on your lips, you’ve had to shake the nerves out of your hands.
And over and over, you’ve strained your neck to look for your favorite cat, because you could sincerely use even a glimpse of her right now.
While she doesn’t end up showing, Yoongi rounds the nearest corner minutes after your last desperate scan.
Fuck, he’s so handsome.
Even now, as he simply walks toward you with a backpack slung over his shoulder, you watch with undying yearning to feel those flowing bangs over his forehead. You’d even settle for a single touch of his cheeks, one of them currently sporting a thin bandage.
But the closer Yoongi gets, the quicker your admiration morphs into concern. There’s a deep bend in his brows that you can’t decipher, and his fist is balled pretty tight.
Seriously, what happened? He looks so troubled that you slowly push off the doorway to ask,
“Baby, what’s—”
A bag hits the ground before you’re swooped into a kiss so electric your lips spark.
Him. Him, him, and more him. For the love of everything you don’t understand what’s happening but you kiss Yoongi back with everything you have, arms slinging around his strong shoulders and tugging him closer because he clearly needed this.
And fuck if you didn’t need it just as much. Screw it if anyone sees you. This is all you want and you’ll stay right here until he pulls away.
When he finally does, both of you swallow to catch your breaths, and your soul glimmers when his forehead meets yours.
“Hi, baby,” you whisper to his exhales. “Missed you, too.”
Silent, your lover kisses your forehead before hugging you close, and you’re more sure of your prediction than ever. Something is bothering him.
He doesn’t look worse, at least. But there’s clearly something off and he’s not hiding it. His lack of words is loud enough.
“Let’s go inside,” you quietly suggest. “I would’ve gone in already but I don’t have a key.”
He nods, fishing out his keyring to let you both inside.
When you set your bags down and slip off your shoes, it’s only seconds before you’re softly pulled into a hug again, surprising yet so, so welcoming.
Even only after a few hours, you’ve missed the fuck out of him. Which makes all of this an outright dream.
“Sorry,” Yoongi finally murmurs against your shoulder. “I just…”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” You stroke a hand along his hair, massaging his scalp and loving how soft it feels. The windswept strands fall back into place as you keep running your fingers through. “Did you at least get your appointment?”
“Yeah, I did.” He buries his face further. “Nothing bad. Just can’t lift anything heavy for a couple days.”
“Good. That’s easy to manage,” you whisper back into his tee, feeling the chill of lingering air conditioning and body warmth all at once. “Is something else bothering you?”
“Not exactly.” Whatever that means. “I’ll tell you about it later. Just wanted this, and you.”
Oh. That’s…
“I’m here now, love,” you assure with a melting heart, wondering what happened to cause this behavior.
Is it because of last night? Or something that happened today? You’re anxious all over again, but from the way Yoongi’s acting, your worries are second to his. “Have you eaten yet?”
He shakes his head, only pulling you closer with not a word from his lips.
And from this point on, you make a silent vow to yourself. Whatever Yoongi needs, you’re going to take care of him.
No matter what, these next few days are all about him—a minuscule sacrifice in comparison to everything he’s done for you, whether you knew about it or not.
“I’ll make you something then. Come on.”
When you walk, you slip your hand down his arm to hold his hand, and your lead into his kitchen is short.
“Any requests?” You cheerfully ask as you spare a smile over your shoulder. “We can do… Something light…”
Only to see him staring back with nothing but a lingering sense of longing.
Okay.
You need to get to the bottom of this now.
Stopping right over linoleum, you leave no room for arguments, “Yoongi. Tell me what’s wrong.”
He blinks before his gaze meets the floor. So you’re confused when he simply, quietly..
Laughs?
“It’s not that something’s wrong,” he slowly starts, a shy smile carving his features. “For the first time in my life, nothing’s wrong.”
Your heart beats extra loud.
“But it’s too much to explain right now.” His eyes rise to meet yours. “Just know that I’m so in love with you.”
Oh.
“And I want you to know that every day I live.”
Fuck.
Your body responds before you can say anything, lips connecting to remove any need for speech. The knowledge of them all staring death in the face last night makes this confession sear your insides, and you can’t help but kiss him like you’ll never get to again.
Yanking him back, you spin on your heel until he flings into the kitchen, clutching your wrists before gripping your jaw with both hands.
His mouth heats on yours, his glasses the only barrier between your skin. Everything sizzles from your head to your toes, and you both bang into a countertop before—
“Fuck, ouch.”
“Shit, you okay?”
Yoongi rubs his side with one eye pinched shut, a corner of his teeth present. “Yeah. Worth it, though.”
“Be serious,” you reprimand. Looks like he’s gonna have to take it easy, which means no going at it like animals until he’s on the mend. “No more until you feel better, yeah?”
“Says who?”
“Babe.”
His deadly pout almost breaks your resolve. “Fine.”
But you can wait. You’re sure it won’t take long, and for this man? You’ll wait however long you need to.
Besides, there’s plenty of things you can do in the meantime that don’t require running into hard objects.
“Good. Now let’s…” You turn away to get started before you’re held, and pulled back into yet another embrace.
What the hell is happening today? Your lungs and your melting pile of a brain can only take so much. It’s beautifully overwhelming how Yoongi can’t seem to let you go, because you’re the one that always loses control.
This whole time, it’s been you that can’t hold yourself back.
So now? Being on the other side? You don’t think you ever want him to restrain himself again.
This time, he moves slow. Sensuously slow, and it would occur to you that he’s finding a very cheeky loophole to your plan if you weren’t so hazy-eyed.
Whatever Yoongi’s doing, you won’t stop him.
Your back touches a counter before Yoongi cages you in, and your lips mold together as perfectly as his body does with yours. Your unhurried strokes match his, and your minds communicate without a single word.
There’s yearning still ever present. But there’s comfort in abundance, and a whole new level of need.
After he pulls away, you can visibly see him drink you in from head to toe.
“You know.. I’m good holding off on all the other shit.” Pulling you in, his lips curve as he confidently declares, “But I’m never gonna stop kissing you.”
His hands, his lips, his words. They all have healing powers, you’re so sure of it. If Yoongi hasn’t yet realized his unending pain has blossomed into a safe haven, you need to let him know no matter what,
“Good.”
There’s still a pining in his eyes, but he lets you free, hand skirting your hip before he walks to his room. “Gonna change then I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to, baby,” you say as you struggle to catch your breath. “I got it.”
Three minutes later, he’s chopping an onion anyway.
But you’re loving how serene everything feels with the two of you prepping and dicing, thumps of knives on wood intertwining in sound before you laugh at his crying over the pesky vegetable. Maybe if he wore contacts instead of specs, he’d be better off.
Not that his choice of eyewear is what you’re complaining about. But those glasses paired with the cream tees he’s been wearing? There will be hell to pay as soon as you get a chance at revenge.
Your pot is set to boil for a bit, so you finally rest against the counter and start a timer on his microwave. “Go ahead,” you gesture to your very handsome cooking partner. “You can sit now.”
“Huh? We’re not done yet.”
“Oh.” Blinking, you tilt your head in confusion because you could’ve sworn you heard him yawn a couple times. “You aren’t tired?”
“I am,” he says before squeezing his eyes, rapid blinks to follow. “But I’m fine here.”
You toss and turn the food around, sprinkling a little more seasoning and hearing the bubbles and fizzes. When you stir a little more, a sudden thought occurs, halting your movements and spinning you around,
“Are you staying there to watch my ass.”
Yoongi’s slow smile gives everything away, but he also makes up for the blatant staring.
“Can’t deny that’s one of the things.” Pushing off the sink, he stands right next to you, slotting a hand behind your neck and angling you for a kiss. “But I meant it earlier. I just…”
You’re completely silent as you watch him slide his eyes from your face to the sizzling food. Whatever he’s thinking about, you’re gonna give him all the room to talk.
“Just like being where you are.”
How you went from almost running out of his door to here, you aren’t quite sure. But you’re grateful for that split second of him deciding to fight for the two of you instead of against, because you really were going to leave.
And you may have taken much, much longer to even try going back.
Your voice is barely heard over the aromatic smell and fizzle, “Good thing I like having you around.” When he smiles again, you let out a breath of a giggle, going back to shuffling the pan around and tilting your head to the fridge. “I put some fruit in there if you wanna eat that, too.”
“I’m down.”
“K.”
Your food is ready soon enough, and the two of you eat while talking about easy topics. Like work and your workplace dynamics, what Yoongi’s team has been working on at the studio.
At one point, your curiosity about the album release party grows from something he says. “Speaking of. The party’s on Friday, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I thought so,” you deflate, setting your bowl down on the table. “Sorry he can’t go.”
“Huh?”
Your body stills. “Wait. Did he not say anything? About his trip being extended?”
So much for nothing in his life being wrong. From the lost look on his face, you may have given him another reason to fold back in on himself. “No.. No, he didn’t.”
Both of you sit in silence.
This could be nothing. Right? That means your brother is confident he can make it so there’s no point in telling Yoongi he’s gonna miss it. Or maybe he’s not trying hard enough and then not being able to say it to his face?
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I thought he told you.”
“It’s okay.” Clearly it’s not. “Not much to do about it now.”
“Yoongi… What if he knows?” At your own question, you stiffen, curling into a proverbial ball. Fear and the sick backfire of fibbing has your mouth going drier than desert air. “What if he actually knows?”
Setting down his chopsticks, Yoongi looks your way, eyes unreadable behind his specs. “If he did, do you think he’d leave us alone?”
He’s got a point. “Guess not.”
“Mm.” Flicking his eyes to the window, he adjusts uncomfortably in his chair. “And I dunno if I mentioned this, but.. He thinks I got back with my ex.”
“Fuck, really?”
“That’s the real reason why he hasn’t been talking to me. Maybe he thinks she’s gonna be there on Friday.”
“Oh.” Your shoulders sag, and sag. Not owning up to your relationship is one thing; Yoongi having to dwell in his previous relationship is another. “Is that… worse?”
“Kinda.” Yoongi’s eyes fall. “Much worse.”
“Shit.” Reaching across wood, you close your hand around his fingers for support. It’s the only thing you can think to do. At least, it’s what you would want if you were in his shoes. “I think you should tell him she won’t be.”
A million seconds later, Yoongi thankfully agrees. “Yeah, I will.”
You feel better. Somewhat. At least a little less nauseous about the possibility of your brother knowing.
But it still sucks knowing that he’s actively avoiding Yoongi because of an ex he used to have.
How bad was it back then if this is the case? What exactly happened? Is this why Yoongi went radio silent on you for weeks?
It seems like he doesn’t even wanna talk about her. So you won’t pry just yet, as much as you wanna know every single thing she’s done wrong so you can hound her through every timeline in existence.
Instead, you talk about a much better subject,
“We should feed my cat now.”
And you quickly laugh at the saucy glint in Yoongi’s eyes.
—
—
Everything is set where it needs to be. Sugar’s food and water fill their respective bowls, your shoulder leans into Yoongi’s good side, and his arm rests around your back as he’s propped up by his banged up doorway.
You remember the first time you saw him lean against the wood like this. Only that time, you were a shell of a girl, waiting with shaky breaths and shaken confidence to hear his response to your inappropriate request.
Who would’ve thought that you’d be on the same side as him all these months later? In his arms, resting a head on his warm chest?
When you let out a short chuckle, Yoongi turns to your smile. “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” you wisp out. “Just thinking about us.”
His fingers press into your side a fraction more, and you can feel him lift his head again. “Me, too.”
Umm.
You can say things like that. He isn’t allowed!
You’re about to set some one-sided rules before your gift pops out of the bushes a few feet away.
“My baby!” you quietly call, leaving Yoongi’s side to crouch down. “Come here, love. You hungry?”
She cautiously makes her way over, sniffing your hand when you leave it outstretched. After careful consideration, the little one nudges your palm, letting you glide fingers down her back as she approaches her bowls.
“You’re so tiny,” you observe with slight pity. “We’ll get you well fed in no time—”
“Hey, Sugar! Oh, is this her? She’s gorgeous, no wonder!”
Huh? Sugar?
Who else knows the cat’s name already?
Your neck almost strains when you look up to see who’s talking. When you notice an older lady donning a really comfy, fluffy robe, you feel like it looks super familiar before you stand.
“Hi,” you greet before introducing yourself, extending your hand and shaking the woman’s soft, delicate fingers. “Sorry if we were too loud.”
“Call me Miss Dion. And you weren’t too loud this time, sweetie,” she says with a wink, glancing down at the kitty eating what you laid out. “Was just comin’ out to water my plants so it’s good to see you’re here, too. Looks like he finally got some sense back in that head of his.”
“I’m standing right here, you know.”
“Oh, I know!”
Back? How long has she known about you? Do her and Yoongi actually converse regularly? Their banter is… Really adorable.
It’s making you fall even more in love with the man biting his cheek in amusement.
Wait.
Is Yoongi Sugar?
That is so fucking cute you could cry.
“I’m back to take care of this guy,” you explain with a head tilt. “And the little one, of course.”
It’s when you say this that Miss Dion notices the bandages on Yoongi’s face, concern pushing down her brows. “What happened to you, young man?”
“Nothing to worry about.”
“You sure? I got some ointment in my kitchen somewhere—”
“It’s all good—”
“We’ll take it,” you cut him off, not looking but feeling his stare on your face. “How much do we owe you?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” With a snuff at Yoongi and a smile your way, Miss Dion heads inside to fetch a bottle.
In the meantime, you give your lover a quiet stare before bending down to run your hands over soft fur.
“Papa Sugar is gonna need that so he can’t argue,” you coo to your cat, cheekily ignoring Yoongi’s sputtering puff of air above your head.
“Papa Sugar? Really?”
You glance up to his smile with a mischievous one of your own. “What, you wanna be Sugar Daddy instead?”
The swirl in your belly is instant. Because Yoongi can only look out into the distance, biting his lip and failing to hide his grin.
Sigh. If only he didn’t have those injuries across his face. You’d push him back into the door and slam it shut if it was any other day.
Patience, patience, patience.
Those hits aren’t gonna heal with just one round of gauze.
When you have to replace the cotton patches, at least you’ll have something to help.
—
—
It’s not until you’re about to tuck in for the night that Yoongi approaches your side of the bed. Judging by the headphones slung around his neck, he’s about to work, so you assume he’s just coming to give you a kiss goodnight.
But after he does exactly that, he asks you a question that warms your chest,
“Where’s your keys.”
“In there,” you motion to the nearest wall, bag propped right under his windowsill. “Inside pocket, I think.”
Yoongi bends with a prolonged grunt, slowly rummaging until he finds your jangling keyring with its charms. When he grabs it, he silently sits on the edge up against your stomach, body heat permeating your tee while he fiddles with the clasps.
God, you’re so in trouble. You know exactly what he’s doing.
Unlike the last time he offered you complete access to his place, this time he didn’t even hesitate. And the way he secures a key amongst the loop, it’s his silent way of cementing permanence.
That’s not another key for you to borrow.
Because that key is yours.
—
—
continued in angel, pt. 2
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a/n: holy crap we're doing it we are actually back in the main storyline?! how do we feel right now because i am over the damn moon diving into this story again. here's a slight pitstop before you make your way over to part two (THE CONTINUATION IS IN A REBLOG!) so take a breather before heading into the resttttttt
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Summary: This is a sequel to 'Untitled' though it can be read standalone. In any case, it's the same couple. Yoongi took care of you after a night out with your girlfriends, and you decide to repay him with surprise lingerie.
There are times in any long term relationship – especially a marriage – when you need to spice it up. Especially after a messy weekend with the girls that ended in your husband having to play chauffeur, butler, nurse, and therapist. Needless to say, you owed Yoongi. Not that he’d ever ask for anything in return. No, he’s too sweet. Too giving. But you wanted to do something for him, nonetheless.
Which is how you find yourself in the world’s most uncomfortable black lingerie, pouring your husband a glass of ice cold whiskey. You took a half day for this, getting home early enough to embark on a three hour tour (queue Gilligan’s Island music) of getting ready, including an everything shower, a blow out, smokey eyes, and his favorite perfume. You even slipped into the silver pumps you wore at your wedding. The lingerie is tight across your chest, pressing your breasts together and up, while dipping low in the back. You still aren’t sure how your butt crack isn’t out, but several checks in the mirror confirm it isn’t. Falling to the tippy tops of your thighs, it leaves your legs- Yoongi’s favorite- as the star of the show.
Now, you just have to wait. You smile when you hear the keys in the door.
“Hey Babe.” His deep voice echoes from the entry way into the bar. “How are you feeling to- Woah.” He stands stock still, frozen, in the doorway, mouth hanging open as his eyes rake over your body. Grinning, you stroll towards him, trying to mimic a walk you’d see at a Victoria Secret fashion show or something. His eyes stay trained on your hips, your legs, even as he takes the offered glass from your hand. It’s amazing how, even after 7 years together and 5 married, his touch still sends sparks through your entire body.
“What’s all this?” he asks, lifting the glass to his lips for a sip. His eyes finally pull away from your body to meet your own. A bead of whiskey sits on his lips after he drinks and his tongue darts out to catch it.
Your eyes snag on the motion as you reply. “You took such good care of me this weekend.” He arches an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “I’m returning the favor.”
He takes another swig, swallowing the dark liquid as his gaze returns to your body. “You look….” He sounds a low whistle as his gaze drops lower. “Are those the shoes you wore at our wedding?”
It doesn’t surprise you that he notices, but it does warm you from the inside out, from your heart down to your cunt and everything in between and beyond.
“Yes,” you say, taking the whiskey from his hand. You bring it up to your lips with one hand, taking a drink as you reach your other hand around his nape. You thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his head, thick black tendrils that have grown long in recent weeks. Pulling him towards you, you slot your mouth to his and open your lips slightly, allowing the whiskey to funnel from your mouth to his as he groans.
“Fuck, baby.” His teeth bit down on your bottom lip as he wraps his arms around you, slipping his hands beneath the lingerie to rest on your bare ass. “No panties?”
“Easy access,” you reply, nipping at his ear before soothing the spot with your tongue. His breath hitches, and you know you’ve got him. He tosses the whiskey glass carelessly onto the counter, bending down to lift you and toss you over his shoulder.
“Hey!” you shout as your eyes snag on the bit of whiskey that sloshed out onto the counter. “You just made a mess!”
“Don’t care. I’ll clean it up later.” He grumbles, stalking towards your bedroom. You stifle a laugh. He’s usually the neat one, so he must really be worked up.
His hand travels up your thigh as he walks, and he turns his head to bite into your ass hard enough to make you squeal. You don’t know what happened, but clearly you are no longer the one in control. That’s made evident when he tosses you onto the bed and looms over you, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Let me take these off.” He says, gently grabbing your ankle to slip off your heels. “We need to be gentle with these, they’re special. And I don’t want to be gentle with you tonight.” You have to fight to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head at his words, so curt, such a stark contrast to the care in which he takes your shoes off and places them gently on your bedside dresser.
He returns to you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your right ankle before moving up your body. His mouth traces his path first, alternating between open mouthed kisses and the occasional press of his teeth. Reaching up, he pushes your dress above your waist.
You lean up to take it off, but he halts your movements with a hand grasped rough around your wrist. “Leave it on.” He says, his voice gruff, nearly unrecognizable.
Biting your lip, you collapse back onto the bed, watching through hooded eyes as Yoongi finally reaches the apex of your thighs. “So wet already, baby. I don’t even have to touch you to tell, I can see you glistening. Were you waiting for me?”
You nod. “I’ve been wet all day, knowing this was going to happen. I planned so much for you.”
“I know you did.” His words are quiet, almost inaudible, but you can feel when he speaks. His breath hits your cunt just right. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” Tentatively, as if it’s his first time touching you, he reaches out. His fingers trail along your slit, collecting your slick and spreading it up to your clit and around.
“Yoongi-“ you gasp, the word coming out more breathless than you imagined. Your body is a live wire, and even the slightest nudge against your clit is sending flames throughout your skin.
“Yes, y/n?” he asks, his eyes finally lifting from your pussy to your face.
“Don’t play with me, please. Just fuck me. I need you.”
“But playing with you is the best part.”
“That’s,” you gasp again as you feel a finger press inside you. “That’s not true.”
“It’s not?” He presses a kiss just above your slit, so chaste it seems a mockery of what his fingers are doing inside you, curling against your g-spot. “Then what is, baby? Tell me.”
You reach down, tangle your fingers in his hair and try to hold his head steady while you buck up your hips to reach his mouth. “Cumming is, obviously.”
“Tsk tsk, y/n.” Easily, so easily it would be embarrassing if you didn’t know each other so well, he presses your hips back to the bed, holding you in place. “I thought all this was for me?” You whine as he pulls away, his fingers leaving your body.
Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, followed by removing his pants and underwear until he’s bare before you. You smile as you bite your lip, crooking your finger in a ‘come here’ motion. He matches your grin before returning to the bed, this time lining his lips with yours in a kiss that steals your very breath. His tongue slips into your mouth as you feel him lining himself up with your entrance. You lift your hips again, and this time he allows it, slipping inside you as you do so.
“Ah!” you groan, finally feeling complete as his rock hard length presses into your now sopping cunt.
“Every time, I think I know how you’re going to feel. And then you feel even fucking better.” He grunts.
“I know, it’s the same for me.” Your words come out in a whisper, all your focus shifting to how his dick drags along inside you as he thrusts.
He’s slow, at first, pressing all the way inside before pulling out to the tip and repeating. It’s good, so so good, but it’s not enough. And he knows it. It doesn’t take long for him to begin to pick up the pace, gradually at first but before you know it he’s pounding into you, hips snapping hard enough that you have to press a hand against the headboard behind you so you don’t bang your head into it.
He grabs your leg, hitching it up onto his shoulder before pressing a kiss to your calf. The new angle makes you keen, senses heightening even further than you knew they could. His cock pounds against your g-spot, and you begin to feel that familiar pressure building inside you.
“Oh my god.” You choke out. “Oh my god. Baby. Yoongi. I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum for me.”
“No I’m going to cum so hard.” The words come out in a slur, barely discernable as that pressure becomes overpowering. Yoongi pulls out just as you hit your breaking point, scrambling down your body to attach his mouth to your cunt as you scream, gushing into his mouth. He drinks you up, eyes sparkling, and his fingers begin to swipe swiftly over your clit while his tongue fucks into you. Before your first orgasm ends the next begins. He pins you down with both hands, holding you in place while you writhe, flames licking over your entire body as stars cloud your vision.
It lasts forever, an eon of pleasure, and when you finally begin to float down your chest is heaving. When your vision clears, you see your husband between your legs, soaked and grinning, his cock soft between his legs.
“Did you come?” you ask, incredulous. “When?!”
“When you came all over my face while I stared at your tits in that fucking dress.”
“Holy shit.” You say, collapsing back onto the bed.
“Holy shit is right. Can you go get drunk with your friends more often? If this is the reward for taking care of you, I’ll do it every night.” He crawls up the bed into he reaches the pillows and lies beside you, draping an arm around your waist.
You laugh. “You’d do it every night anyway, if I needed it.”
“That’s true. But this is a good bonus.” He pauses before speaking again, running his fingers over where the dress cuts into your boobs. “Is this uncomfortable?”
“Extremely.”
“Then let’s get you out of it.” He immediately begins to unlace the sides, loosening it for you. You smile as you watch him, amazed at how swiftly he switches from a ravaging sex beast that makes you cum so hard you think you might die, into your sweet and doting husband.
“I love you, Yoongi.” You say, bursting at the seems with the feeling.
“I love you too.” He says, pulling the dress over your head. You sigh in relief once you’re free. “Now let’s get cleaned up so we can go to bed.”
THE WARNINGS ALONE HAD ME SCREAMING AND THE FIC IS EVEN CRAZIER S O S🗯️🗯️
leah i know where you live (i don’t) don’t make me run (fly) over there just so we can tussle (kiss)!!!!😭😭😭
dude…….. this was action packed in such a word count idk how you got me this hot and bothered so quick you minx😂 honestly you’re going to the brig for this one lmfao
Summary: This is a sequel to 'Untitled' though it can be read standalone. In any case, it's the same couple. Yoongi took care of you after a night out with your girlfriends, and you decide to repay him with surprise lingerie.
There are times in any long term relationship – especially a marriage – when you need to spice it up. Especially after a messy weekend with the girls that ended in your husband having to play chauffeur, butler, nurse, and therapist. Needless to say, you owed Yoongi. Not that he’d ever ask for anything in return. No, he’s too sweet. Too giving. But you wanted to do something for him, nonetheless.
Which is how you find yourself in the world’s most uncomfortable black lingerie, pouring your husband a glass of ice cold whiskey. You took a half day for this, getting home early enough to embark on a three hour tour (queue Gilligan’s Island music) of getting ready, including an everything shower, a blow out, smokey eyes, and his favorite perfume. You even slipped into the silver pumps you wore at your wedding. The lingerie is tight across your chest, pressing your breasts together and up, while dipping low in the back. You still aren’t sure how your butt crack isn’t out, but several checks in the mirror confirm it isn’t. Falling to the tippy tops of your thighs, it leaves your legs- Yoongi’s favorite- as the star of the show.
Now, you just have to wait. You smile when you hear the keys in the door.
“Hey Babe.” His deep voice echoes from the entry way into the bar. “How are you feeling to- Woah.” He stands stock still, frozen, in the doorway, mouth hanging open as his eyes rake over your body. Grinning, you stroll towards him, trying to mimic a walk you’d see at a Victoria Secret fashion show or something. His eyes stay trained on your hips, your legs, even as he takes the offered glass from your hand. It’s amazing how, even after 7 years together and 5 married, his touch still sends sparks through your entire body.
“What’s all this?” he asks, lifting the glass to his lips for a sip. His eyes finally pull away from your body to meet your own. A bead of whiskey sits on his lips after he drinks and his tongue darts out to catch it.
Your eyes snag on the motion as you reply. “You took such good care of me this weekend.” He arches an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “I’m returning the favor.”
He takes another swig, swallowing the dark liquid as his gaze returns to your body. “You look….” He sounds a low whistle as his gaze drops lower. “Are those the shoes you wore at our wedding?”
It doesn’t surprise you that he notices, but it does warm you from the inside out, from your heart down to your cunt and everything in between and beyond.
“Yes,” you say, taking the whiskey from his hand. You bring it up to your lips with one hand, taking a drink as you reach your other hand around his nape. You thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his head, thick black tendrils that have grown long in recent weeks. Pulling him towards you, you slot your mouth to his and open your lips slightly, allowing the whiskey to funnel from your mouth to his as he groans.
“Fuck, baby.” His teeth bit down on your bottom lip as he wraps his arms around you, slipping his hands beneath the lingerie to rest on your bare ass. “No panties?”
“Easy access,” you reply, nipping at his ear before soothing the spot with your tongue. His breath hitches, and you know you’ve got him. He tosses the whiskey glass carelessly onto the counter, bending down to lift you and toss you over his shoulder.
“Hey!” you shout as your eyes snag on the bit of whiskey that sloshed out onto the counter. “You just made a mess!”
“Don’t care. I’ll clean it up later.” He grumbles, stalking towards your bedroom. You stifle a laugh. He’s usually the neat one, so he must really be worked up.
His hand travels up your thigh as he walks, and he turns his head to bite into your ass hard enough to make you squeal. You don’t know what happened, but clearly you are no longer the one in control. That’s made evident when he tosses you onto the bed and looms over you, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Let me take these off.” He says, gently grabbing your ankle to slip off your heels. “We need to be gentle with these, they’re special. And I don’t want to be gentle with you tonight.” You have to fight to keep your eyes from rolling into the back of your head at his words, so curt, such a stark contrast to the care in which he takes your shoes off and places them gently on your bedside dresser.
He returns to you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your right ankle before moving up your body. His mouth traces his path first, alternating between open mouthed kisses and the occasional press of his teeth. Reaching up, he pushes your dress above your waist.
You lean up to take it off, but he halts your movements with a hand grasped rough around your wrist. “Leave it on.” He says, his voice gruff, nearly unrecognizable.
Biting your lip, you collapse back onto the bed, watching through hooded eyes as Yoongi finally reaches the apex of your thighs. “So wet already, baby. I don’t even have to touch you to tell, I can see you glistening. Were you waiting for me?”
You nod. “I’ve been wet all day, knowing this was going to happen. I planned so much for you.”
“I know you did.” His words are quiet, almost inaudible, but you can feel when he speaks. His breath hits your cunt just right. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” Tentatively, as if it’s his first time touching you, he reaches out. His fingers trail along your slit, collecting your slick and spreading it up to your clit and around.
“Yoongi-“ you gasp, the word coming out more breathless than you imagined. Your body is a live wire, and even the slightest nudge against your clit is sending flames throughout your skin.
“Yes, y/n?” he asks, his eyes finally lifting from your pussy to your face.
“Don’t play with me, please. Just fuck me. I need you.”
“But playing with you is the best part.”
“That’s,” you gasp again as you feel a finger press inside you. “That’s not true.”
“It’s not?” He presses a kiss just above your slit, so chaste it seems a mockery of what his fingers are doing inside you, curling against your g-spot. “Then what is, baby? Tell me.”
You reach down, tangle your fingers in his hair and try to hold his head steady while you buck up your hips to reach his mouth. “Cumming is, obviously.”
“Tsk tsk, y/n.” Easily, so easily it would be embarrassing if you didn’t know each other so well, he presses your hips back to the bed, holding you in place. “I thought all this was for me?” You whine as he pulls away, his fingers leaving your body.
Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, followed by removing his pants and underwear until he’s bare before you. You smile as you bite your lip, crooking your finger in a ‘come here’ motion. He matches your grin before returning to the bed, this time lining his lips with yours in a kiss that steals your very breath. His tongue slips into your mouth as you feel him lining himself up with your entrance. You lift your hips again, and this time he allows it, slipping inside you as you do so.
“Ah!” you groan, finally feeling complete as his rock hard length presses into your now sopping cunt.
“Every time, I think I know how you’re going to feel. And then you feel even fucking better.” He grunts.
“I know, it’s the same for me.” Your words come out in a whisper, all your focus shifting to how his dick drags along inside you as he thrusts.
He’s slow, at first, pressing all the way inside before pulling out to the tip and repeating. It’s good, so so good, but it’s not enough. And he knows it. It doesn’t take long for him to begin to pick up the pace, gradually at first but before you know it he’s pounding into you, hips snapping hard enough that you have to press a hand against the headboard behind you so you don’t bang your head into it.
He grabs your leg, hitching it up onto his shoulder before pressing a kiss to your calf. The new angle makes you keen, senses heightening even further than you knew they could. His cock pounds against your g-spot, and you begin to feel that familiar pressure building inside you.
“Oh my god.” You choke out. “Oh my god. Baby. Yoongi. I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum for me.”
“No I’m going to cum so hard.” The words come out in a slur, barely discernable as that pressure becomes overpowering. Yoongi pulls out just as you hit your breaking point, scrambling down your body to attach his mouth to your cunt as you scream, gushing into his mouth. He drinks you up, eyes sparkling, and his fingers begin to swipe swiftly over your clit while his tongue fucks into you. Before your first orgasm ends the next begins. He pins you down with both hands, holding you in place while you writhe, flames licking over your entire body as stars cloud your vision.
It lasts forever, an eon of pleasure, and when you finally begin to float down your chest is heaving. When your vision clears, you see your husband between your legs, soaked and grinning, his cock soft between his legs.
“Did you come?” you ask, incredulous. “When?!”
“When you came all over my face while I stared at your tits in that fucking dress.”
“Holy shit.” You say, collapsing back onto the bed.
“Holy shit is right. Can you go get drunk with your friends more often? If this is the reward for taking care of you, I’ll do it every night.” He crawls up the bed into he reaches the pillows and lies beside you, draping an arm around your waist.
You laugh. “You’d do it every night anyway, if I needed it.”
“That’s true. But this is a good bonus.” He pauses before speaking again, running his fingers over where the dress cuts into your boobs. “Is this uncomfortable?”
“Extremely.”
“Then let’s get you out of it.” He immediately begins to unlace the sides, loosening it for you. You smile as you watch him, amazed at how swiftly he switches from a ravaging sex beast that makes you cum so hard you think you might die, into your sweet and doting husband.
“I love you, Yoongi.” You say, bursting at the seems with the feeling.
“I love you too.” He says, pulling the dress over your head. You sigh in relief once you’re free. “Now let’s get cleaned up so we can go to bed.”
i still love and think about mr park constantly!! he is alive and well and on tour!!!
also the "are you ready?" and 1, 2, 3 countdown 🤧
also 2x, him telling an army not to cry at the end omg i would cry more! 😭
He is SOOOOO MR PARK coded!!! 🥹🙈 the elementary school teacher vibes just so jimin he’s so pure and sweet I love him so much. I love that that story has stuck with you too 😭😭😭😭 thank you so much for this message
summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.)
pairing⇢ jungkook/reader
word count⇢ 19.8k 🤭
genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au
warnings⇢ sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, corporate nonsense, jk is a nerd but he's also really hot 😩
a/n⇢ omg, she's finally here 😭 this fic has been sitting in my drafts partially finished for literal YEARS lmfaoo. as in, jungkook didn't even have tattoos yet years ☠️ in fact, the whole plot for this was spawned from that time namjoon was on a live in his studio and jk visited in this yellow buttonup looking like a hot nerd and namjoon said he looked like he had an interview. it had to be 2018ish...i know my OGs know exactly what i'm talking about, but i'll put it below the cut for reference. ANYWAYS this was fun to imagine, but it's also entirely fiction so please don't attempt anything that happens in this fic lmao. mood for this fic is this. hope you enjoy~ 💜
When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.
Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.
While you’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every quarter the company sponsors an employee barbecue where everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.
“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”
Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though friendly, she has zero filter and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in certain situations where you found her topic of choice inappropriate.
Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate instead of your measly Assistant means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started and is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing).
“I think it’s nice,” you reply truthfully. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”
“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”
Your eyes dart to said Sales Boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?
An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from Accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”
“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.
“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “That sounds unnecessarily smelly. He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”
“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”
“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.
The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.
“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.
He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue button-up. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.
The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.
“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”
Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”
“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”
“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”
“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”
He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up.
“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.
“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”
“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.
Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.
Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”
“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”
“IT guy?” you prompt, hoping to slide past that last remark.
“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. They rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.
Wendy scoffs in disinterest. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”
“Soccer game?” you ask distractedly. A glance back to the coolers shows Jungkook is gone, and you don’t see him in the immediate vicinity.
“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy reminds you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”
To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching his athletic display across the grass anyway.
Monday morning—the start of the workweek, but also, rather depressingly, the end of the weekend. Everyone tends to be more tired and grumpy on Mondays (yourself included), and this is why your team considers it essential that you always stop by their preferred coffeeshop and bring in their drinks for a morning pick-me-up. You’re the lowest on the ladder, so you weren’t exactly sure how to refuse when you were asked one day if you would mind picking up some drinks for everyone, and then, after that, people kept sending you their orders like it was expected of you. The café is technically on your way to work and everyone always pays you back, but it’s still pretty irritating to have to forgo those extra precious minutes of sleep just so you can beat the long lines and get to work on time.
Today, you’re lucky enough to get ahead of the morning rush, but that means that you end up trudging into the building much earlier than you anticipated. You hope the coffee’s insulated cups do their job properly, because you really don’t have the energy to listen to Joy huff and puff about having to reheat hers.
Your trek to your cubicle slows when you realize that someone is already there, sitting in your chair and typing away on your keyboard. Their back is to you, swathed in an olive button-up, and it’s not until you get close enough to curiously crane your head to see their face that you recognize him. The guy from the barbecue last week—the one by the coolers.
He startles a bit when he sees you approach in his peripheral vision, eyes darting up at you in surprise.
“Hi.” You raise the tray you’re holding in an awkward greeting. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”
“That’s okay, _____,” he replies softly, wide eyes blinking a little from behind his round glasses. “I can get kind of spacey when I’m focused on something. I was just doing some updates on your machine and didn’t see you.”
“You…” Your head tilts curiously. “You know my name?”
A small smile touches his lips as he points to your computer. “I’m updating your machine,” he reminds you.
Not to mention the fact that he’s literally sitting in your cubicle, you name tag clearly posted on the frosted glass that separates your space from Joy’s. An embarrassed chuckle leaves you when you realize your dumbass mistake. “Oh. Duh. Wow, that was a stupid question. Let me just get out of your way.”
“No, no, I’m clearly the one in the way!” His head shakes apologetically. “I couldn’t do this update remotely and I thought you didn’t clock in for another half hour—sorry about that.”
“I don’t,” you confirm. “But I tend to get here a little early so I can sort out everyone’s coffee order.”
A brow raises in surprise. “Do they really have you making coffee runs?” he asks incredulously.
You hmm in confirmation, moving to set the coffee on everyone’s desks. “Rite of passage, I guess,” you call over the divider as you work. Joy’s order today isn’t as over the top as you know she can be, but you were still rather embarrassed to order it (vanilla latte with oatmilk—one and a half pumps cinnamon, one pump hazelnut, an extra espresso shot and extra foam with honey drizzle). The barista had looked at you tiredly but hadn’t voiced her obvious judgement when she rung you up.
“I guess,” you hear him say, but he doesn’t sound too convinced.
Coffee distributed and hands finally free, you return to lean against your cubicle, hovering as he continues to quickly type and click. You look at him pointedly, a small smile creeping across your face. “Speaking of grunt work, I hear you’re the printer guy.”
His lips quirk. “I’m also the expert at updating Microsoft Word, just so you know.”
You laugh, and his eyes crinkle in amused response. “Oh, well excuse me, sir.”
“I’ll let it slide this once. Since you’re new.”
“And so are you. That’s why you’re the printer guy.”
He just lets out a puff of air that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. This close, you can now see the tiny holes that are trailing up his earlobe—he clearly has multiple ear piercings, not just the ones you saw at the barbecue. There is no jewelry in them now, though.
“Jungkook, right?”
It’s his turn to look surprised, and you find yourself satisfied by the flush creeping up the back of his neck when he ducks his head in confirmation.
“Us newbies gotta stick together,” you stage whisper behind a conspiratorial hand before leaning decidedly away. “Anyway, let me stop bothering you and go make some coffee.”
His eyebrows scrunch in clear confusion. “Didn’t you just bring some?”
“…Yeah, I am only just now recognizing just how bizarre this must seem,” you say sheepishly. “But none of those were for me—fancy specialty drinks aren’t really in my budget, so I tend to just brew a cup here.”
“Did you say drinks?” a voice croaks, and when you turn your head, there’s Joy, walking towards the two of you. If her body’s sluggish movements weren’t enough to clue you in to the fact that she’s exhausted and possibly hungover, the designer sunglasses she’s wearing to tactfully hide half her face certainly do.
“On your desk,” you chirp as she walks past you without another glance. “Good morning!”
There is no response from the other side of the cubicle wall, and Jungkook frowns a bit, but you just give him a small shrug that translates to what can you do? before pushing off the wall to continue your trek to the kitchen. “You want one?” you offer. “I make a mean cafeteria coffee. Trial and error has taught me the exact temperature of tap water to use to make it taste less like sludge.”
His mouth smoothes back out at your joke, and though you wait for him to call you out on your ridiculous declaration, his gaze is already back on your computer. “No thank you,” comes his soft reply.
With a nod to yourself, you move to complete your task and leave Jungkook to work on his. When you return minutes later, newly-filled mug in hand, he’s already gone.
Today starts out pretty typically. After bringing everyone’s coffee, you settle into monitoring the company’s social media accounts. (When Joy first delegated this task to you, you were a bit confused, as social media is so vital to brands nowadays that handling it is technically a whole other full-time job. But it turns out you don’t have to do much above the intern level anyway—just answer customer questions and escalate issues if need be.)
Your manager has been out traveling for a week, but today she finally comes back to the office, and it makes for a nice change of pace when she hands you all of her scattered, hurriedly-scribbled notes and asks you to please transcribe them into something more cohesive and legible. Well, not nice, exactly (because at the end of the day, this is still busywork), but if you have to reply to one more Facebook comment with instructions that are clearly already on the product packaging, there is a pretty likely possibility you will scream.
This is at least slightly less mind-numbing. Instead of copy-pasting things from a prewritten script, you get to try to make sense of what your boss had been trying to say when she wrote turkey club in the corner of a page filled with random numbers and dates. Was this important? Was it simply her plans for lunch that day? You and your fancy college degree have the pleasure of trying to figure that out while Joy and Alan, the web manager, get to actually do important things that are in their job descriptions.
Still, like every day, you try to dampen your frustration, try to keep a positive attitude. Because ultimately, this is an opportunity to grow your boss’s confidence in you, and that’s exactly what you want. Though you’re a little disheartened by all the busywork, you remind yourself it will all be worth it in the end. Your hope is that if you put in the time, you’ll eventually be trusted with more of the nitty gritty stuff.
(You know…the stuff you actually got your degree for.)
But no matter how positive you are, things of course don’t go as smoothly as they should. After you’ve done a pretty fantastic job (if you say so yourself) of organizing and typing everything up, you send your manager the digital version. And, because you know the email may accidentally get buried in her inbox, you decide to print a physical copy for good measure.
You give the printer pretty simple, straightforward directions. One copy, double-sided (to do your part to save Mother Earth), the whole document typed in plain old black and white. But when you walk over, there’s nothing waiting for you in the printing tray. No humming to clue you in to the fact that the printer was working on your job. Nope. Instead, the admittedly ancient machine is quiet and still, and it stays that way for long enough for you to walk back to your computer to press the print button again, just in case you forgot to do so the first time. Still no dice. You frown, opening the paper tray to make sure it was full, then opening every other compartment that can possibly be opened to make sure there isn’t a paper jam somewhere.
Nothing.
Irritated, you stalk back to your desk, your first inclination to check with Joy and see if she has been having any of the same issues, but you find her chair empty. Probably got pulled into a meeting that they don’t find it necessary to loop you in on, even though it will ultimately be you who does all the grunt work for any action items the meeting produces.
Positive, you remind yourself, falling back into your chair and drumming your fingertips against your desk in thought. Maybe it’s not the printer at all. Maybe it’s your computer. You search your desk drawer for the introductory employee contact sheet HR had given you when you first started, and there he is—Jeon, Jungkook.
For a second, you consider sending him an email, but the green dot that displays he’s online has you shooting him a message instead. Much less formal, but likely quicker for the both of you.
You
Hey Jungkook! Sorry to bother you, but I can’t print for some reason
You
The printer over here is ignoring me, and I don’t think I’m set up to print by the art directors
Despite what you originally assumed, he doesn’t answer immediately, obviously focused on something else. Still, you only have to wait a few minutes before you hear the soft ding you were waiting for.
Jungkook Jeon
Hi, _____. You mean the large printer by the marketing department, correct?
You
Yes! I tried a couple times, but I don’t think the job even went through
You
Thought it best to just ask the printer guy 🙂
There’s a pause, one long enough that you worry that he’s forgotten about your lighthearted exchange from this morning. Shit. That was stupid of you. You’ve probably offended him. Fuck.
But if Jungkook is upset with you, he’s professional enough that it doesn’t come across at all in his next message. If anything, he just seems a little preoccupied.
Jungkook Jeon
Hmmm, let me check it out for you. Mabel can be a little uncooperative.
You
Mabel?
Silence again, this time for a good five minutes. You answer some emails so you’re not just sitting there twiddling your thumbs.
Jungkook Jeon
Sorry, was running some diagnostics in the background to see if I could find the problem
IT kinda calls that printer Mabel because we’re pretty sure she’s worked for the company for longer than all of us combined. Seems fitting
You can’t help but snort at that. Cute, and likely not inaccurate. Mabel, it is.
Jungkook Jeon
One of these days Mabel’ll finally retire, but it won’t be today—looks like she’s running fine. Do you mind checking for me and seeing if you can access the marketing server?
A few clicks, and when double clicking on the server icon doesn’t bring up the same list of folders it usually does, it confirms the conclusion the both of you have already come to—your computer is the problem, not Mabel.
You
No dice 😕
Jungkook Jeon
Got it. I think something went weird with your network connection after I updated your machine this morning. I can fix that for you!
You
Awesome! I appreciate it!
Jungkook Jeon
Of course! Can’t have my sparkling reputation as the Printer Guy tarnished so easily 😉
You
LOL
You allow him remote access to your computer when a pop-up prompts you to, and he gets you up and running before your manager’s meeting is even over.
Lunch has always been an interesting—albeit potentially exhausting—part of your day. You learned early on that attempting to take the break you were legally entitled to at your desk did not stop anyone from continuing to ask you for things. Unfortunately, there weren’t many solutions to this problem—you didn’t get paid enough to be able to consistently eat your lunches out, and you lived too far away from the office to go home for lunch instead. So, you started taking your lunch break a little earlier than most of your other coworkers did, ensuring that the cafeteria was pretty empty and allowing you the space to decompress and eat your bagged lunch in peace.
And as things usually went with this company, it didn’t take long for that peace to be interrupted. Once she noticed you disappearing from your desk, curiosity had Joy tagging along one day, and after that, it only took a couple weeks before both she and Wendy joined you.
(Later, you would have the great idea to simply enjoy your bagged lunch in the park a few blocks away, but the weather wasn’t always great and at that point, the other two started to expect you to eat with them.)
So that’s exactly how you’re spending your lunch now—scarfing down the soup you made a few days ago that you’ll eat until it’s completely gone, while Joy and Wendy giggle and gossip to each other. As much as they apparently want to eat lunch with you, they tend to be pretty nonplussed by how you never contribute much to their inane conversations.
And you’re fine with that. In the time it’s taken them to get comfortable invading your zen time, you’ve learned how to properly tune their tittering out. You’re good at nodding at the right times, at throwing in perfectly placed hums that indicate you’re listening, even when you’re not.
Today, it’s a sudden, uncharacteristic pause in their chatter that prickles against your diverted attention. “That’s weird,” you hear Wendy mutter, and that officially throws you out of you mentally making your grocery list. The intrigued way she’s looking behind you makes you reflexively turn, and that’s when your eyes set on Jungkook.
He hadn’t been there when you first sat down for lunch, but he is now, sitting alone a couple tables away. He’s the only other person in the cafeteria, but from the AirPods in his ears and the way his eyes are focused on his phone screen, you doubt he’s even noticed this fact.
Joy’s lips downturn slightly into a puzzled frown. “Hmm. IT guys never come down voluntarily from their tower.”
Your head tilts as you mull over that. That isn’t exactly true. You have only seen Jungkook in passing a few times over the last couple weeks, but those few times prove IT aren’t exactly the antisocial specters the two women in front of you keep painting them as. You have even exchanged the short pleasantries with him that are socially expected when crossing paths at the coffeepot.
“Wonder what he’s doing here?” Wendy says, not nearly quietly enough in your opinion. Embarrassment flashes hot through you, inwardly chastising yourself for continuing to associate with such casually judgmental people. You’re already mentally preparing to apologize for your lunch mates when a covert glance out of the corner of your eye shows that Jungkook’s still paying your group no attention, taking distracted bites from his sandwich as his head bobs slightly to whatever is playing through his headphones.
“Whatever,” Joy says with a dismissive shrug, and then just that easily, the two are back gossiping about Cindy in HR.
From then on, you notice that Jungkook continues to eat lunch in the cafeteria at the same time as you. Sometimes, he beats you there, already at his designated table and munching on whatever he brought that day. If your eyes meet, he’ll send you a small smile in greeting before immediately dropping his focus back to his phone. If you’re there first and throw him a wave of acknowledgment, he always returns it, as is polite and expected of two coworkers who don’t know each other beyond their forced proximity.
And you think nothing of it, too busy being your department’s errand girl, the person who gets assigned all the tasks no one else wants to do. The amount of interaction you and Jungkook have is only marginally higher than what you have with Namjoon in Finance, who periodically reaches out to you for any missing receipts for charges on the Marketing department’s credit card.
This slowly starts changing as you begin to have more and more technical problems. You being assigned to put together multiple PowerPoints and research whatever market trends tickles your boss’s fancy means you constantly have an ungodly amount of tabs and applications open. This means you’re not really surprised when your computer—an older model that is definitely on its last leg—starts freezing and giving you pop up errors. A force restart seems to fix the problem, but a new one emerges—now, no matter how many times you hit the print button and walk over to your designated printer, nothing awaits for you to pick up. Even scrolling through the printer’s print history shows no record of your jobs being in the queue. It’s bizarre—you even make sure to confirm you’re connected to the servers, and that doesn’t seem to be the issue this time.
Frowning, you make your way back to your desk and scroll down your chat messages until a familiar face appears.
You
Hey Jungkook! I can’t seem to print—think something weird is going on with my computer today
A soft sigh of frustration escapes your lips, fingers drumming irritably against your desk. It isn’t even noon, but the day is already looking to be a long one.
Resigned, you settle in to wait for him to answer you in the chat, but the little bubbles that indicate he’s typing never pop up. Instead, you’re surprised when movement in your peripheral produces Jungkook himself, slowing in approach of your desk, though his focus is still on his phone screen. He must have gotten your message in the midst of doing something else.
“Oh! Hi,” you greet him eagerly. “Just the person I was looking to see.”
He looks up at you from beneath the curtain of his bangs, a small smile touching his lips as he stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. “Just the person I was looking for,” he returns. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Mabel is being a bitch again,” you say with an irritated sigh. “Every time I try to print, nothing is happening.”
Jungkook snorts, amused, and it’s only then that your brain registers exactly what you just said. Swearing at work is unprofessional so you make it a point not do it, but that one slipped out so casually. “Oh—sorry.”
But if Jungkook is offended, it certainly doesn’t show in the responding chuckle he lets out. “That’s definitely on brand. I can fix that—let me take a look.”
You move to relinquish your seat, but he’s already leaning over you before you can do more than shift your weight. So you just let go of your mouse so he can control it instead, scooting to the side a bit and trying your best not to think too hard about how he’s close enough for your clothes to brush. Christ does he smell good.
Jungkook clicks around a bit, no doubt checking to make sure your computer is up to date and connected to everything it’s supposed to. “Is this what you’ve been trying to print?” he finally asks, brows furrowed in concentration.
You blink at the question, realizing with dawning horror that you were accidentally distracted by his proximity. You clear your throat, shaking your head a little at yourself in an attempt to clear it of all thoughts that aren’t solidly on the task at hand. “Yeah.”
He clicks the print button, just as you have done for the past ten minutes, then straightens with a shrug. “Let’s give our old girl a visit and see what her deal is.”
You stand, following him around the corner to the copy room, where Mabel has proudly taken residence for who knows how many years. The fact that you can already see she’s humming with activity as the two of you approach has your eyebrows knitting in confusion.
Jungkook seems equally confused, reaching in the tray for the stack of paper that was just spit out and turning it over to confirm both of your suspicions. The report you’ve been trying to print for the last twenty minutes sits in his hand, likely still warm from how quickly and easily Mabel completed Jungkook’s request. He holds it up for you to see, his big doe eyes peering at you quizzically through his glasses. “This printer was the one that wouldn’t work for you?” he asks.
“Yeah, I definitely sent it to this one. Repeatedly,” you insist. Embarrassment prickles across your skin. “I swear it wasn’t working two seconds ago!”
Jungkook smiles when he hands you the papers, and it somehow softens his naturally cherubic face even more. “You just wanted to say hi to me, huh?”
“Clearly Mabel likes you more than me,” you sniff at his teasing. “Sorry for wasting your time.”
“You didn’t,” he says simply. He hovers for a few more moments as you check to make sure all the pages are there. “Let me know if you have any more issues, okay?”
“Will do,” you agree, mind already back on your work as you both turn to part ways. “Thank you so much for your help!”
“Anytime.”
“Didn’t you have a date last night?” Joy asks.
It’s lunchtime again, early enough that the three of you are still the only ones in the cafeteria. While both Joy and Wendy are munching on some overpriced salads they had delivered from a restaurant a couple blocks away, you’re eating a boring ham and cheese sandwich that you haphazardly slapped together in your rush to get out the door this morning. Vaguely, you do remember Wendy mentioning something about an upcoming hot date, but she was always rambling about a hot date, and frankly, you don’t care enough to keep up with any details. Everything you know about her love life—and her, in all honesty—has been dumped onto you without you having any say in the matter.
“I did,” Wendy squeals, excited as always to have the opportunity to talk about herself. “His name was Miles. We’ve been talking on Tinder for the past week—he was really sweet and seemed to want to get to know me. Last night he took me to a nice restaurant, really wined and dined me.”
“Wow,” Joy says, eyebrows raised. “That sounds promising. When are you gonna see him again?”
“I’m not,” Wendy scoffed. “He was nice and all, but he’s only 5’7. It’ll never work out.”
“True.”
You’ve been trying your hardest to zone them out, but the longer Wendy prattles on, each sentence more baffling than the last, you can’t help but interject, “Doesn’t the app let you filter out height preferences?”
Wendy pauses, a raise of an eyebrow betraying her surprise at you finally participating in her lunchtime shenanigans. “Not on the free version.”
“So why did you even entertain him if you knew you would never consider him seriously?”
“..because I wanted to go to dinner?” Wendy replies flatly, the look on her face doing nothing to hide how stupid she thinks your question is. “Besides, he got what he wanted out of the deal. After dinner I took him home and let him fuck.”
The flippantly casual way she throws out the vulgar word feels like a record scratch, especially since the three of you are, in fact, still very much on company premises. Wendy doesn’t seem to notice just how much she’s scandalized you, continuing to prattle on at full volume about how the sex was pretty good for a Tinder date, even though he refused to eat her out.
At this point, you’ve long slowed in your chewing, now entirely too incredulous by the absurdity of the situation you’ve found yourself in to eat.
“You didn’t suck him, did you?” Joy asks.
Wendy scoffs. “Of course not! I’m not giving head to some random anyway, especially if he’s not gonna give me mine first.”
“Can we not talk about this?” you mumble.
They both turn to stare at you, judgement plain on their faces. Wendy snorts. “Wow, _____. I never took you to be a prude.”
“I did,” Joy slides in under her breath.
You let out an agitated huff. This is ridiculous. “I’m not a prude.”
The two of them share a look. After a pause, Wendy finally asks in a way that indicates that it doesn’t really matter what you say because her mind is already made up, “Then what’s the problem?”
Aside from this conversation being a massive HR violation?
Wendy continues smugly, as if she’s figured you out, “Talking about oral hit a nerve…interesting.”
Yes, Wendy! you think sarcastically, fighting the intense urge to roll your eyes. The whole rest of the convo was good and dandy—oral was definitely the line, though!
Joy just looks at you, her eyes narrowing the longer she does. Her scrutiny makes your skin prickle in irritation. “You have gotten head before, right?”
“Okay!” you say sharply, stuffing the uneaten half of your sandwich back into the bag. “One, that’s neither of your business, and two, this conversation is completely inappropriate. Let’s change the subject, please.”
It’s quiet for a moment, both of them visibly surprised by your response. Joy actually looks a tiny bit proud that you stood up for yourself, but Wendy just sniffs and mutters, “That obviously means no.” Ultimately, they both back off, choosing instead to chatter about the newest design of Joy’s nails.
You exhale a tiny sigh of relief. Wendy was hitting the nail too close to the head and you truly didn’t feel like explaining your life story to a nosy coworker who was nothing more than your acquaintance, at best. Now that they’ve finally let you out of the hot seat, you’re fully planning to spend the rest of your lunch hour zoning out in relative peace.
But before you can properly dissociate, you hear someone cough behind you.
Your blood runs cold. You already know who it is—no one else tends to eat lunch this early.
“How long has he been sitting there?” you whisper, already dreading the answer.
Joy waves an unbothered hand. “I don’t know, like five minutes?”
Five minutes. Long enough to have heard…
You’re immediately mortified, and it must show on your face, because Wendy just snorts and says way too loudly for your comfort, “Oh, relax, this is probably the most action he’s gotten in months. I’m doing him a favor.”
What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. “Are you serious right now?”
“Calm down,” Joy says, rolling her eyes. “Look, he’s not even listening to us.”
And a slow, discrete turn of your head confirms what she says—Jungkook, in an ugly salmon button-up today, has his earbuds in, eyes downcast to his phone screen, lips soundlessly forming the words to whatever song he’s listening to. You feel a tiny bit of relief, but embarrassment still roils deep in your belly, suddenly making your half-eaten sandwich completely unappetizing.
You stand, grabbing the brown paper bag that contains the remnants of your lunch and hoping against hope that you’ll be able to bolt without him noticing.
“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Wendy sighs, annoyance bleeding into her tone. “I told you I didn’t realize you were a prude. We can talk about something else.”
You bristle, but tamp down the urge to defend yourself and point out again that you aren’t a prude, you just don’t want to be the office harlot either. “It’s not that,” you lie. The judgmental look in Joy’s eye only softens when you say, “I just remembered I forgot to print the printouts for the meeting this afternoon. I’ll see you guys later?”
“Sure,” Joy says dismissively, and Wendy says nothing at all. They’ve already moved on, no longer interested in your swift escape, attention eagerly back on the details of Wendy’s weekend. That’s works perfectly fine for you—you’ve had enough of being the center of attention for the day.
Blessedly, Jungkook doesn’t even look up when slink past him and out the door.
It’s hot.
Third quarter is well underway, which means that it’s time again for the quarterly company barbecue. That also means it’s hot as balls.
You suffer quietly, trying not to add to the stank atmosphere Joy and Wendy are already creating due to the heat. It’s an ambitious goal, especially since you’re already sweltering beneath your blouse—which was reasonable to wear within the chilled walls of the office, but feels rather ridiculous now, under the relentless beat of the sun. Despite being grateful for the free food and break from your maddeningly boring work, you can’t help but mentally yearn for the indoors, where there’s proper shade and air conditioning and decidedly less bitching.
“I don’t know why they don’t just cater something for us to eat inside,” Joy mopes, dabbing at her brow with what you already know from experience to be a cheap, scratchy napkin. “How is anyone supposed to enjoy themselves if we’re melting?”
“It’s probably a ploy,” Wendy quips. “The more uncomfortable we are, the more likely we are to get back to work.”
“The date’s been on the calendar for months,” you point out wearily. “They had no way of knowing there’d be a heat wave today. Besides, the company’s already paid for the food. I doubt they intended to purposely waste that money.”
Joy scoffs in retort. “The company also knows throwing an outdoor event in July is the same as throwing one in Satan’s asshole.”
Wendy sniggers, but you don’t answer, biting back your response that outdoor barbecues are common during summer, and at least they don’t have you out here in the snow. Because honestly? This is only your second quarter with the company, and who knows what the fourth quarter barbecue looks like.
All you can do is free some of the buttons on your blouse, undoing as many as you can while still being office-appropriate. As it is, you now have a little cleavage peeking out, but with how hot it is, you figure no one will say anything.
“Look,” Wendy says with an unsubtle tip of her head. “Looks like the soccer game is still on, at least.”
Fluttering the hem of your blouse in an attempt to get some circulation, you reflexively respond to her prompting, eyes following her line of sight. A few tables down, the Sales team has finished their meal and appears to be actively gauging coworker interest in joining their game. From the decently-sized group that’s starting to form by the open field, you think they’re pretty successful, despite the heat.
Joy groans, lifting her long hair with a hand in an effort to cool off the back of her neck. “I don’t know how they’re doing all that when it feels too hot to breathe.”
Inwardly, you agree with her, but Wendy just gives a lazy shrug and says, “Hey, if we’re gonna roast to death, at least we’ll be properly entertained.”
“True,” Joy muses. “And they’re gonna be sweatier than usual.”
Wendy’s eyes glaze over a bit at the thought. You grimace, amazed that these two always seem to have their heads in the gutter. That’s my cue. “I’ll be right back,” you say, brushing off the back of your slacks as you stand, but they pay you no mind when you walk away.
You’ve already finished your meal, but it can’t hurt to take another look at the coolers. It’s so hot that you’ve already downed your first beverage, so a new one is in order. When you arrive to the area, two people from Customer Service pass, nodding at you in acknowledgment as they make their way back to their table. You’ve only just started to reach for a cooler lid when you hear someone address you again.
“Hey,” a familiar voice says timidly behind you. “How’s it going?”
You reflexively turn your head, simultaneously surprised and not at all to find Jungkook standing there. He’s got on a long-sleeved button-up despite the heat—grey, checkered with a red and navy plaid—and you can’t help but wonder how he’s not sweltering. Though, the noticeable sheen on his face and the way his damp bangs are starting clump together tells you he just might be.
“I’ve had better days,” you answer honestly, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead. Before you can catch yourself, that same hand is vaguely gesturing at him, head to toe. “How are you not melting?”
His lips twitch, amused. “I definitely am,” he admits. “I actually hoped no one was over here so I could stuff some of the ice from these coolers down my shirt without being judged.”
You snort. “Hey, who’s judging? Certainly not me. Knock yourself out; just make sure you leave me some.”
He taps his chin, jokingly in thought, but to be honest, he does mildly look as if he’s actually considering it. “Well, we wouldn’t want the beverages to get cold…”
“Eh, there’s probably not that many in here anyway. They could probably consolidate coolers.” To prove your point, you bend over, cracking open one of the red ones next to you and peering inside. The expected assortment of generic sodas greets you, looking admittedly very refreshing floating in their ice bath. “See, this one isn’t even full.”
You angle your torso a bit so you can meet his eye properly over your shoulder, but as soon as you look up at him, his gaze hurriedly skirts away, color crawling up the back of his neck. You stand with a frown, confused by this, but ultimately brush off his weird behavior when you notice Namjoon from Accounting sidling up to the two of you.
"Hey guys," he greets you, a friendly smile dimpling his cheeks. "We're getting some people together for a soccer game. I know it's really hot, but would either of you want to join?"
You’ve often seen Namjoon chatting with Hoseok in passing, and twice have even seen them leave the building for lunch together, so it doesn’t surprise you that the accountant is helping recruit for the Sales team's traditional barbecue pastime. What does surprise you, however, is that when he casually claps a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, the younger man first responds by blinking owlishly at him behind his glasses, and then, a few seconds later, giving him a nod of assent.
Obviously you don't know Jungkook very well—not at all, really, outside of your ongoing feud with Mabel. But you didn't take him to be the type to be into playing outdoor sports, particularly in this weather, and you certainly didn't expect him to agree so easily. A smile from Namjoon and suddenly all thoughts of stealing cooler ice are gone.
Namjoon turns back to you, but you're already shaking your head. "Nope, no thank you! Y'all have fun. I'll just supervise from over there in the shade."
"Fair enough," he chuckles, and then he's leading Jungkook across the open field to meet up with the others.
Mildly more interested in the game now, you take this as your cue to grab the beverage you came for—a can of a Lipton knockoff and a bottle of water for good measure—and return to your table.
Joy and Wendy are still yapping when you approach, though in your absence, Joy has apparently decided to move to Wendy’s side of the table. It only takes you following their line of sight to quickly recognize why—that side of the table has an unobstructed view of the upcoming soccer game. Well, unobstructed, so long as you change your seat too. Awkward about intentionally getting in the way, you pause for only a moment before ultimately reaching for the end seat perpendicular to them instead.
When you lean over a little to pull your chair out from under the table, Joy finally deigns to acknowledge you, ticking an eyebrow. “I can see down your shirt,” she tells you offhandedly.
Your head snaps down, and you realize she’s right—undoing those few extra buttons has made the billowy fabric more susceptible to gravity, particularly when you leaned over. You yourself could see your whole chest and the basic bra that supported it, and at this angle, you doubt your blouse covered much of that from Joy’s gaze. A hand immediately snaps up to press the material back in place, but before you can even get properly embarrassed, her attention is ripped from you, eyes wide at something behind you.
“Holy—”
Wendy's jaw drops. Your head reflexively turns in the direction they're gawking at.
And before you can stop it, your jaw drops too.
Your tablemates have been known to be dramatic, and are certainly the type to stretch a fact or two. But it’s only now that you fully understand their fixation on these Sales soccer games, because yes, sometimes they do indeed take their shirts off. Like now.
Other than one girl from Compliance, all of the game’s recruits appear to be men, and as such, the group has chosen to distinguish teams by shirts vs. skins. And while the sudden appearance of skin naturally draws most people’s attention, your attention only gravitates towards one person. Cause what the fuck.
You almost don't recognize him, your brain rapidly shuffling through the information it's collected about him over the past few months and struggling to reconcile with what your eyes are actually seeing. Because the Jungkook you know wears glasses and long sleeves and has an unassuming hairstyle that looks suspiciously like a bowl may have been involved at some point.
But the person you're looking at now? Glasses have been discarded, apparently no longer needing optical assistance, and he’s ditched the button-up, sweat making the white sleeveless tank he has on underneath spottily transparent and divulging the dusk of his nipples. Now that you can properly see the taper of his slim waist, his shoulders are proportionally more broad than you realized. And, since he clearly has no regard for your rapidly rising blood pressure, Jungkook decides now is the perfect time to reach over said shoulders, grab fistfuls of damp fabric, and pull. The sight of him slipping the shirt over his head—the ink of his hair sinfully mussed, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement—has you reflexively swallowing, mouth dry.
He's absolutely ripped.
There's no other way to say it. A superior specimen, built and honed in a way that's only possible through years of hard work and discipline. He's still lean enough that you can rationalize how you’ve never picked up on that amount of muscle hiding beneath his unassuming dress shirts, but you're still gobsmacked.
Your mind spins, struggling to come to terms with the near impossible fact Jungkook actually pulled a Clark Kent on you. Well, pulled a Clark Kent if Clark Kent was also covered in gorgeous ink, pigment swirling up his right arm from wrist to shoulder. From this distance you can’t see the exact designs that make up his intricate sleeve, but you can tell it was composed with a purposeful eye.
Jungkook is absolutely ripped and tattooed. Jungkook. Printer guy Jungkook.
Flustered and trying not to be, you quickly look away, clanking your jaw shut and trying to focus on the plastic tabletop instead. Dear god, this is embarrassing. You really just gawked at your coworker! He was minding his own business and your jaw just reflexively unhinged like a degenerate. God, you hoped he didn't see that.
But any mortification you have is apparently not shared by the other two at your table.
“Is that Justin?!” Wendy demands rather shrilly, eyes wide, and the volume of her question would embarrass you even more if your brain could process any other reaction right now other than straight static. “Justin from IT?!”
You swallow thickly, your responding correction weak and delayed. “Jungkook.”
“Finally,” Joy groans, pushing her plate away dramatically. “Some good fucking food!”
You can’t help it then—your eyes drift back up, lured to the soccer players once more and zeroing in on him immediately. Seemingly unable to stray from his form, the heat already producing a sheen over his golden skin even though the game hasn’t started yet.
Surrounded by a few surprised male coworkers, Jungkook’s slightly hunched into himself, shy at the sudden attention. Even with the distance, you can see how Hoseok claps Jungkook on the back, just as animated over his newly revealed physique as the members of your table. But while everyone else is excited by this revelation…
Across the field, Jungkook innocuously turns his head in your direction. Like magnets, his eyes hone in on yours, your gaze locked for a few seconds until another loud What the fuck?! from Wendy frees you from the spell and you hurriedly look away again, a completely different kind of heat washing over you.
Jesus, you need to get ahold of yourself. There’s no way he was actually looking at you—it’s too sunny, and he’s not even wearing his glasses! He probably can’t even see that far.
But when you brave another peek in that direction and realize you can literally count his abs from here—
What the fuck, indeed.
Mutely, you watch the game unfold, not as self-conscious when it becomes clear that the whole office is doing the same. Though Joy and Wendy have been very salacious in their excitement for it, the soccer game is evidently a company barbecue highlight for others as well. And you’re sure Jungkook joining the fray has only added to the interest, as he’s a completely new addition to the equation.
And to your continued astonishment, Jungkook is good. He’s fast and lithe and brazen. He proves to you, again and again, that he can kick the ball with such ferocious accuracy that the other team’s goalie eventually stops trying to get in his way and simply resorts to trying to protect their vulnerable body parts instead. His intensity only entices reciprocal energy from everyone else, and what has traditionally been a lighthearted game between coworkers has now transformed into a group of competitive men who feel they now have something to prove.
Joy and Wendy are delighted by this development, squealing and cheering and tittering amongst themselves. You sit quietly, still trying to mentally process this new development, but when you start to feel embarrassed by just how much you’re staring, you decide to call it a day. No one really notices when you stand and gather your trash, and luckily the distraction of the game means you’re able to slip out without any fanfare.
This quarter’s barbecue being on a Friday means you’re blessed with a weekend to decompress and regroup. Unfortunately for you, the office doesn’t just…move on from the event like it has in the past. Instead, this particular barbecue was apparently such a success that you continue to hear chatter about it for the next week, mostly in passing. But while everyone else makes small talk about how much fun they had, Joy and Wendy choose to hone in on the only thing they truly consider worthy of discussion—Jungkook.
Today, just as they have every day for the past few months, they join your table when you take your early lunch. However, to their increasing irritation, the object of their current fixation isn’t here. In fact, Jungkook hasn’t showed up to the cafeteria during your lunch time since before the barbecue, and you inwardly have to admit it’s a little strange without him. You sat at different tables and the two of you never really said much to each other beyond the expected niceties, but you’ve gotten used to his presence all the same.
You actually have barely seen him at all, with Mabel on her best behavior this week and Jungkook seemingly busy with something that has kept him mostly out of common areas. Still, with your embarrassingly strong reaction to him at the barbecue, it’s probably for the best. You’re a little wary of what your first proper interaction is going to be like, and you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to be as normal as possible.
Your female lunchmates don’t seem to have that same mindset.
“Does he just not eat anymore?” Joy huffs. “I literally haven’t seen him all week!”
Wendy picks at her salad, lips twisted in a displeased grimace. “I actually saw him yesterday.”
Joy’s head snaps to her. “What?! You didn’t tell me that. What happened?”
“Since casually running into him doesn’t seem to be working, I figured I’d try getting him to come to me. So I unplugged my keyboard and messaged him, but he didn’t show up for like 40 minutes,” Wendy sighs irritably. “And when he did, he looked at me like I was a moron.”
Your lips twitch in amusement before you can stop them. Joy immediately says exactly what you’re thinking. “Well, you are a moron. You sat there for 40 minutes with your keyboard unplugged!”
Wendy soldiers on like she didn't hear her, undeterred from her gossiping. “So he came over in his ugly button-up and judged me! Plugged the keyboard back in and walked away without even saying anything.”
Despite not properly running into him all week, you actually did see Jungkook’s shirt in passing yesterday as he was turning down a hallway at the far end of the office. Wendy’s right—it had been an ugly puce. You found it endearing.
“He didn’t even roll up his sleeves,” Wendy mourned. “The least Jamal could have done was give me that.”
You pause in the chewing of the tuna sandwich you brought from home, exasperated. “Jamal,” you repeat flatly. “Really?”
Wendy waves her hand at you dismissively. “You know who I mean!”
“I mean, he’ll probably be more willing to talk to you if you treat him like an actual person.” Your quip is reflexive and indignant, and it kind of throws all three of you off guard. Joy raises an eyebrow at you and your sudden vexation, but you still add, though more subdued, “You know. Making an effort to remember his name is a good start.”
“Damn, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Wendy sniffs, though she doesn’t seem very offended by your callout. Over the months you’ve superficially gotten to know her, you’ve come to notice that she doesn’t really take much seriously—a simultaneously admirable and frustrating trait. “If you wanted dibs, you could have just said that.”
You feel heat flush up your neck, denial attempting to sputter from your lips, but true to form, Wendy has already moved on, tittering about how it’s about time the office had some proper excitement that wasn’t just meetings and spreadsheets.
“And speaking of meetings,” Joy pipes up, passing you a nonchalant look, “don’t forget to order those sandwiches for the client meeting tomorrow.”
“Sandwiches?” Your mind blanks. You knew your boss was hosting some clients in the office—had even been working on a lot of grunt work to prepare for it—but no one had mentioned anything to you about any sandwiches. “I thought she was wining and dining them?”
Joy let out a mildly irritated huff. “No, they have to catch an early flight home, so the plan has changed to a working lunch. Weren’t you listening in Monday’s meeting?”
No, you hadn’t been listening, because you weren’t invited to the Monday’s meeting. So it looks like a plan had been made and tasks assigned to you…without anyone bothering to communicate that. Typical.
You close your eyes for a second, jaw working as you attempt to tamp down your ever-brewing frustration. If they intend on you ordering from the usual place, it may be too late to cater for delivery, which means you’ll probably be stuck figuring out how to transport multiple giant platters from a restaurant five blocks away.
“Do you mind forwarding me the request you sent? I must have missed it,” you respond neutrally, knowing full well the original email had never been sent to you. You stand to leave, the rest of your lunch break instantly soured by the revelation that you apparently have time-sensitive action items that are encroaching dangerous territory. “Just want to make sure I get the order correct.”
Joy nods, attention already back on Wendy and only half-listening. In the meantime, you’ll have to research alternatives, just in case.
While you’re lucky enough to find an acceptable last-minute catering option that will also, blessedly, deliver, that doesn’t mean you’re free to take a breather.
It’s now the end of the day, and one by one, you see everyone around you log out and head for the elevator. Even Joy, who leaves right on time, despite knowing just how many tasks your small team still needs to complete for the big meeting tomorrow. What’s left is mostly grunt work, and while you are undoubtedly a grunt, it’s been clear for a while now that Joy no longer sees herself to be included in that category. So even though having more hands on deck would speed things along considerably, she still gathers her purse and gives you a cheeky finger wave on her way out.
At some point, the cleaning lady makes her rounds, scooting past you with a murmured apology to empty your trash can, but eventually even she disappears. Hell, even the sun abandons you, the soft glow fading from all the windows and stranding you with the cold fluorescent lighting that only remains on in your part of the office, because the lights have motion detectors.
And so it’s just you, kneeling on the carpet and surrounded by a gazillion binders. Ensuring relevant reports and Powerpoint presentations are accurate and sending digital copies to your boss for her to have on-hand. Attempting to print physical copies and assemble them into binder portfolios your clients will be able to follow along with during the meeting.
Attempting, because Mabel is, of course, choosing now to live up to her bitchy reputation. She won’t print on the right-sized paper. She won’t collate. She won’t be cooperative at all, and you’re too exhausted for this shit. Physically and mentally exhausted, trying your hardest to rein in the frustration that’s slowly expanding in your chest, crawling up your throat and triggering a familiar burning behind your eyes. It’s not fair.
An exasperated noise escapes you without thinking, a loud, guttural thing. None of this is fair.
“_____?”
Your head snaps over your shoulder in surprise, not at all expecting anyone else to still be in the building. It’s Jungkook, because of course it is. Brows knitted in confusion, a black leather jacket thrown over his marigold button-up for some reason. He’s standing near the doors that exit into the lobby, evidently about to begin his trek home before you unwittingly paused his endeavor.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks, but before you can even deign to answer, he’s already taken a few steps towards you and followed up with a clearly concerned, “Are you okay?”
You take a breath, struggling to calm the storm within you. None of this is his fault, nor his problem, and you should just force a smile on your face so he can be on his way and leave you to your self-pity. But you’re tired, so tired, and simply don’t have the capacity to pretend anymore. You swallow around the lump in your throat, and when you do speak, the thickness of your voice betrays the tears that you’re fighting to keep at bay. “No.”
This only seems to alarm him more. He’s standing next to you now, as close as he can get with the array of binders and papers you have scattered on the floor around you like a fortress not meant to keep anyone out, but rather, to keep you inside.
“What’s the matter?” he asks gently.
“Oh, nothing,” you snort derisively, blinking rapidly at the ceiling in an effort to try to stop the inevitable. “Nothing. It’s just well past 7pm and I’m still here in this godforsaken building attempting to print out and hole punch and assemble twenty copies of this presentation. I can’t even get the printer to do what I’m asking it to! And there’s no fucking reason I should still be here because the could have been done last week if my boss didn’t keep making nonsensical changes based solely on vibes. And tell me why there are six people on my team but no one thought to help me or take any sort of ownership of this at all—as per usual—or even buy me a fucking coffee for once! I haven’t eaten a proper meal all day but everybody just assumes they can go home because things will magically get done like they always do because they will! I will always make sure that they will! Every day it becomes increasingly clear that nobody in this fucking company gives a flying FUCK about me or my free time or my sanity—”
If he’s put off by your potty mouth, Jungkook certainly doesn’t show it. He just manages to catch your gaze from behind his glasses and simply replies, “I do.”
Your never-ending rant rapidly dissipates on your tongue, brain struggling to comprehend what he just said. “…What?”
“I care,” he repeats softly. “How can I help?”
The sincerity in his tone renders you mute, too stunned to do anything more than watch as Jungkook drops the backpack he’s had slung over a shoulder onto the floor, tossing his newly removed jacket on top of it without much thought. He’s unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, the reemergence of an ink-covered forearm making your brain stutter even more. Now that there’s much less distance between you, you can more accurately make out the shape of a delicate tiger lily, the languid form of a snake.
Jungkook clears his throat, the noise snapping you out of your stupor and making you realize you were just staring at him in silence, for who knows how long. Dammit. “What do you need?” he tries again.
“Um, first we can start with Mabel,” you croak, mouth now embarrassingly dry. “No matter what I do, she refuses to collate.”
Jungkook shoots you a smile that softens his whole face. “Lucky for you, I’m the printer expert, remember? Don’t worry. We’ll get this fixed and be out of here in no time.”
He holds out a hand and you reflexively grab it, allowing him to guide you to your feet. Together, you make your way to the copy room, where Mabel has stubbornly been giving you hell all night. Jungkook gets right to work pushing buttons while you stand to the side, awkwardly shifting your weight a little from foot to foot.
“So why are you still here?” you ask, curiosity finally forcing you to voice the question that’s been looping in your mind since he first appeared. “It’s late.”
“It is,” he agrees, focus still on the printer. He kneels down, opening the paper tray. “There’s this huge system update that’s set to roll out next week. My whole team has been hunkering down and pulling late nights.”
Oh. That explains why you haven’t seen him around much since the barbecue. “That’s tough.”
“We’re finally almost done,” he shrugs. “And I’m clearly not the only one working overtime.”
You don’t say anything when he looks up at you pointedly, so he turns back to the printer, pulling a stack of paper out of one of the trays.
“I think this may be part of the problem. Someone put the wrong-sized paper in here. Or, at least, Mabel thinks it’s wrong. She’s confused.”
“Well, she can join the club,” you mutter, and he puffs out a laugh, shutting the drawer and pressing some more buttons.
“Come on, let’s try again.”
Something touches your elbow, and though it shocks through you like he electrocuted you, you have the good sense suppress any embarrassing reaction to what you quickly realize is just his hand. Instead, you let him guide you back to your desk, trying not to focus too intently on the heat of his skin on yours.
Jungkook waits for you to login to your computer, clicking around and changing some settings once you step back and allow him free rein. Then, you can hear a distant hum coming from the copier room, and you know immediately that he’s succeeded. Dutifully, he goes to check anyway, returning to you with a stack of perfectly collated paper.
“Thank god,” you groan. “Now let me just print fifty more of those so I can start organizing these binders.”
With the crisis averted and his job done, you fully expect him to gather his pile of stuff and hustle to the elevator before you can trap him into doing anything else. Instead, Jungkook goes to pick up the additional copies from the printer for you, and he actually gets down on the floor next to you to start putting everything together. He watches you assemble one binder for reference, but then he’s easily doing the same and doubling your completion speed.
And slowly, gradually, your nervous system calms. The two of you work like a well-oiled machine in what would be comfortable silence, if your brain wasn’t so loud. Now that you’re not actively panicking, a completely different feeling starts to seep into you—embarrassment. You can’t believe that Jungkook actually caught you on the cusp of a breakdown, during which you looked so pitiful, he felt morally obligated to stop what he was doing and help you.
“I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” you say after a while with a grimace. He’s way too nice and you’re way too pathetic. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night—I promise you don’t have to stay with me. Now that everything’s printed and organized, most of the work’s done. I should be out of here in no time.”
“Well, I promise you didn’t ruin anything. And with two of us, you can be out of here in less time than that.” He looks up with a soft smile from where he’s hole punching a stack of paper, the muffled ka-chunk of the device punctuating his point. “I don’t mind, _____. Really.”
“But I do,” you murmur, looking away. Unable to meet his eyes. “I really appreciate your help, but I feel bad taking up so much of your time.”
“Well, don’t. I didn’t really have plans tonight anyway, and I’ve been working so much that it’s probably better that I get in some socializing time.”
“Not that I’m very good company,” you snort derisively.
There’s a pause, one long enough that you wonder if he heard you. But then he’s moving a little closer to you, tipping slightly sideways to tap his shoulder against yours. Reflexively, you turn back to him, finding his eyes kind.
“We all have our off days, and that’s okay. But they’ll dull your shine if you let them. Don’t.” He bumps your shoulder again. “Besides, you and I have to stick together, remember? Or did you not really mean it when you told me that?”
You did tell him that, didn’t you? Months and months ago. You're surprised that he even remembers that.
There's an amused quirk to his lip, one that you can't help but feel yourself soften to, even as his focus turns back to the task at hand. And all at once, you feel yourself flooded with gratitude. You've been thankful for his help this whole time, of course, but now you almost sag with it, the relief at knowing someone is finally in your corner, the sudden sense of security and support visceral and a little overwhelming.
Before you fully realize what you're doing, it's you who leans closer, aiming to give a him a grateful kiss on the cheek. But your lips don't quite land on their intended target, because just before you succeed, Jungkook unconsciously senses your increasing proximity and reflexively turns his head back to you.
It's his lips yours coincidentally brush against, the accidental kiss timid due to his surprise and your chaste intentions. But the kiss is also soft, his lips plush and rather easily yielding to yours.
Quickly realizing your mistake, you pull back, eyes as big as saucers. You stare at him in stunned silence and he stares back, eyes all pupil.
A horrified apology is immediately crowding the back of your throat, but right before you set it free, Jungkook's Adam's apple bobs, an errant tongue absently swiping across his lips.
Huh. This isn’t exactly the reaction of someone repulsed by an unwanted kiss. He still hasn't said anything, but he hasn't moved away from you either. He's just watching you. Waiting.
...Waiting?
With caution but with clear intent, you lean back in, and to your surprise, he meets you halfway, noses bumping a little before he tilts his head and your lips slot perfectly together.
This kiss is immediately different from the last. Jungkook mindlessly drops he binder he's holding, body angling more solidly towards you so he can properly meet the rapidly rising intensity. Well, meet may be the wrong word, because he's the one whose hand quickly reaches up to cradle your chin, gentle pressure a silent request to for you to tilt your head a bit more. And when you comply with the change in angle, it's him who deepens the kiss, the slow lave of his tongue coaxing your lips to part, open and wet.
You pant hot into his mouth and he breathes you in, offering no resistance when you push even closer, hands wandering across his shoulders, fingers ghosting up the back of his neck before drifting to idly toy with the hair at his nape. He hums contentedly, not unlike a purring cat, and does it again when your tongue joins his in a slow glide.
You lose yourself in the sensation of it all, unable to notice anything beyond the heat that is rapidly building between you like fireworks ready to explode. Your head spins, swimming with endorphins and high off the smell of him. The taste.
A playful nibble of your lip unexpectedly has a rather desperate keen escaping your throat. You pause, making to pull back in your embarrassment, but the sound only seems to activate Jungkook, who follows you in your attempted retreat, mouth chasing yours in its reluctance to part. It's only when your back finally touches the floor that you realize he's slowly guided you there. You've been in a haze, too swept into the plot of the movie you've somehow found yourself in to do anything but be pulled along.
As naturally as breathing, your find your knees have parted, and Jungkook easily slips into the space you've created for him, almost trancelike. As if he doesn't even realize he's doing it, too focused on exploring the fever of your mouth. He's leaning most of his weight on the hands he has posted on either side of your head; even still, every single millimeter of you that does touch him is sparking like live wires, euphoric goosebumps rippling across your skin. You let out a shaky breath that fogs his glasses, but even that doesn't stop him, just makes him pull back from you just enough to be able to whip them off and toss them somewhere, wholly unconcerned.
Emboldened by this, you sling a leg over his hip, and he eagerly accepts your invitation, settling on you properly. You're covered in him now, pelvises properly flush, and now that he's caged you in, Jungkook takes the opportunity to glide his lips away from yours and trail across your jawline instead. You shiver, every atom of you buzzing at his touch, and his mouth continues its trek, sucking hot down the column of your throat with just enough pressure that you know color will bloom there later.
Your hips reflexively jump at his ministrations, your skirt riding further up your thighs, and the hard press of him against your panties has you swallowing down a moan. He freezes for a fraction of a second, but then his hips respond to the lure of yours with a more intentional roll. A contented sound rumbles in the back of his throat, tongue dipping to meander across your collarbone.
This is crazy. This is crazy. But you can't quite find it in yourself to care much as the two of you rut against each other on the office floor, your hand gliding up his back to root in the hair at his nape.
Your hips undulate restlessly, eager to meet the crest of his wave, and Jungkook matches your intensity, catching your earlobe between his teeth. Your shared grind is measured but deliberate, and even through his pants you can feel the hard shape of him pressing right against your aching core. A particularly pointed roll has Jungkook shuddering hot into the shell of your ear, and that is what finally tamps down the last of your restraint and triggers something much more primal.
Dizzy with want, your hands scrabble between you and aim for the button of his slacks, eager to be properly introduced to what’s underneath. But to your slow horror, Jungkook freezes at the touch, motionless for a few breathless seconds before he actually starts lifting off of you and pulling back. It’s only when he’s completely sat up and is staring at you that the full weight of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
You really were just dry humping. A coworker. And you were doing it on the premises of the place that pays your fucking bills! Making out, dry humping, and you were actively aiming to do much more if he hadn't stopped you.
What the fuck has gotten into you?
You scrabble upright, dizzy with the mortification rapidly seeping deep into your bones. Stupidly, you blink at him, paralyzed with embarrassment but unable to look away. A deer in headlights.
Jungkook stares right back, eyes dark and all pupil. Dazedly, you wonder if you look as fucked out as he does—there’s a smattering of red across his cheeks, and his hair has been thoroughly mussed by your own hands. A tongue dips out to swipe over kiss-swollen lips, stealing your attention away from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
And suddenly, you’re able to kickstart into gear.
“I am so sorry,” you burst out, panic nearly choking you. “That was highly inappropriate and I seriously don’t know what came over me—”
It takes you a few moments to register that he’s moved back in, and that it’s the returned press of his lips that interrupts your babbling apology before it can properly catch its stride. You’re almost too afraid to respond in kind, as if you’ll somehow scare him away again, but the insistence in his kiss practically knocks the breath from your lungs. Patiently, he coaxes your rigid lips back pliant. And only when it’s clear you won’t try to run away does he lean back a second time, but only enough to see your eyes properly.
“No,” he murmurs, breath fanning hot over you. “That was very much appropriate.”
You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, too shell-shocked by this turn of events and actively battling your triggered fight or flight response. “Um. Then…then why did you…”
Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, as if he’s gathering himself. “I want to,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself, but then he’s looking right at you again, gaze heavy with resolve. “It’s just…do you mind if I try something first?”
That throws you for a loop. Your jaw opens then shuts again while you contemplate his question, as well as your answer. “I mean, I guess? It depends on what it is.”
That you don't instantly reject him visibly unwinds a tension in his body that you only now realize was there. A rather feral look crosses his face, immediately inciting goosebumps to ripple across your skin in anticipation. But then the intensity of his expression dims, edged with something more contemplative. Jungkook gives you a pensive nod then stands, looking around curiously. “Hey, where does that viper sit?”
You blink, bewildered. “…The who?”
“The one who’s always with you at lunch.” He locks eyes with you, tongue poking through his cheek. “You know. The one who’s on your team but still had no second thoughts about leaving you here tonight by yourself.”
Joy. He’s talking about Joy.
The question makes you pause in suspicion, but you still hook a thumb towards the cubicle next to yours, on the other side of your shared wall. “There. Why?”
“No reason,” he says with a sly grin, holding out a hand to you. You take it without question and he easily helps you to your feet. But then before you can process it, he’s slid both hands around your waist and easily lifted you off the ground, already in route to the exact cubicle you called out. You yelp in surprise, your arms reflexively circling his neck—your legs, his middle—in your body’s scramble for balance. But Jungkook’s hold on you is secure, grip moving down to the back of your thighs instead, and now that your chests are once again flush, you can actually feel his chuckle. His amusement provokes yours, and you can’t help but giggle as he carries you over to Joy’s cube as easily as if you weigh nothing.
Clearly, his exercise routine is working out for him.
After using a hand to sweep some objects out of the way, Jungkook carefully sets you down on Joy’s desk, right next to her monitor. Your mirth only grows at the feeling of whatever printouts she left for later review crinkling under your weight, at the sight of displaced pens rolling off the edge and disappearing to the ether that is the floor.
Jungkook has set you down, but he doesn’t pull away, just leans down and recaptures your eager lips. He’s tall enough that he’s kind of hunching over to kiss you, neck really craned, but he doesn’t seem to care much about that, kissing you with the same ferocity as moments before, when the two of you were entangled on the carpet. And you can’t help but match his fervor, hands reaching to guide his slim hips even closer, into the widening gap you naturally create for him between your legs.
Time constricts and expands, an endless and meaningless concept. Because all that matters now is the tongue he slips past your lips to slide against yours, slowly, like he’s savoring the taste of you. All that matters is how fucking great he smells—like clean laundry and smoke and warm skin speckled with sweat—something you’ve always caught whiffs of, but now completely surrounds you, invading all your senses and sending your lust into overdrive.
“Is this what you wanted to try?” you pant hotly when your lips finally separate for a moment in your quest for air. “Defiling Joy’s desk?”
He’s leaning his forehead against yours while he also attempts to catch his breath, and he’s so close that it would be hard for you to miss his amused flash of teeth. “Sort of. I’d like to defile it more thoroughly, though. Starting with this.”
Jungkook leans in for one last kiss, one that starts at your mouth, moves to your neck, and to your surprise, continues down the line of your body. Over your collarbone, careful hands popping open a few buttons of your blouse so he can nestle more surely into the curve of your breasts, warm lips skating across eager skin. For a few moments, he actually nuzzles his face into your middle, a gesture you find rather sweet before he incites a shiver through your body by licking against your clothed navel. And before you can fully realize what’s happening, he’s slipped to his knees.
You look down at him in surprise, body still slotted between your legs, but this time more eye-level with the secret, needy part of you that has been thrumming excitedly with every beat of your heart. “What are you…”
“You’re always doing everything for everyone else,” comes his murmured reply. “Will you allow me to do something for you?”
Your brain is still so hazy from the spell of his mouth that it takes you a moment to recognize what’s happening. What he’s asking for. But when his large palms are hot against the naked skin of your thighs, gentle pressure urging them to part even more, it all hits you like a truck. Your eyes dart around, paranoid. “Jungkook,” you hiss. “…Here?”
“They’re too cheap to put cameras anywhere other than the lobby.” He turns his head, lips pressing reassurance into the side of your knee. “And no one’s here.” His reminder as gentle as the kisses he continues to adorn you with. “Just you.” Kiss. “And me.”
He’s right, you know. No one else is here to witness the series of bad decisions you’ve just made—to witness the ones you’re still seriously considering.
Still, you hesitate.
Jungkook’s staring intently at you, doe-eyed and cherry-lipped and deceptively innocent despite what he’s requesting of you. “Please?” he asks again, oh-so-sweetly. Reverently prostrating before your altar, praying for the blessing of an ambivalent goddess. You. “I just…I really want to. Ever since that day, I can’t stop thinking about it and I—please?”
Your brows furrow as you try to make sense of what he’s saying, still scrambling to keep up with this current turn of events. What day? Your mind whirrs, jumping around before finally settling on an embarrassing memory you’ve willed yourself to forget.
Lunch, where Wendy somehow got you to admit you’ve never gotten head, and Jungkook, purportedly oblivious, too busy on his phone to ever pay your table any attention.
…Except from what he’s saying right now, he had heard every word. Heard, and filed it away for safekeeping, only revealing to you now, when he can possibly do something about it.
Absently, your tongue dips out to swipe across your lips, and Jungkook’s attention visibly strays towards the action, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs and sending electricity straight to your core. God, do you want to say yes. Even though you’ve never done this before, your inexperience is not at all the reason for your reluctance. It’s the optics. You’re at work.
Your head tilts as you try to accurately take stock of the situation. You’re at work. But technically, you should have clocked out hours ago. Technically, this job has been stealing a lot of time that should have been yours to choose what to do with. Case in point—you’re the only person on your team still within a five-mile radius of this godforsaken building. Because everyone else deserted you without a second thought, designating you to be the one who struggles to print presentations for a meeting that has been on the calendar for literal months.
But.
While it’s easy to assume they forced this fate upon you, Fate is not one easily compelled to do another’s bidding. And, trapped in the gaze of the sweet man still patiently awaiting permission to ruin you, you can’t help but wonder if this has been Her plan all along.
For months you’ve been doing everything for everyone else, so unhappy and stressed that each day in this place only wound you tighter and tighter. So…what if you finally just let yourself snap? Did what you wanted for once? Stopped following the rules that nobody else ever seemed to and just let go?
You exhale. Fuck it.
“Okay.”
Jungkook grins, boyishly innocuous at first, but rapidly morphing into something much more devilish as you watch. He turns to kiss your knee again, and you startle a little at the action, newly on edge. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, still holding your gaze. Making sure you can see his resolve. “I got you.”
“Okay,” you say again, but that’s easier said than done, especially when he takes the opportunity to gently push your knees even further apart. Naturally, your skirt rides further up, and you can’t help the apprehension that washes over you at your increasing lack of modesty. Still, you hold true to your word, aggressively tamping down the urge to scramble off the desk and pretend this all never happened. But though you brace yourself for what comes next…
Jungkook doesn’t move.
Long moments pass before you can’t help but say something. “Are you just gonna look?” Because that’s all he seems to be doing, laser-focused on the juncture of your thighs.
He visibly stirs at the sound of your voice, but still doesn’t do much more than tsk at you. “Don’t rush me,” comes his light reprimand, eyes still locked on what you’re sure at this point is a growing dark spot on your panties. “I don’t half-ass things and I definitely won’t rush this. No one’s here, so just relax and enjoy the ride.”
Your jittery nerves have you reflexively mouthy, but your retort swiftly dies on your tongue when his hand finally moves further up your skirt—further inward—and two fingers pointedly press right against that dark spot and glide over your clothed lips. You gasp, fighting against the urge to snap your legs shut when he slowly circles your clit and sends sparks dancing down your legs.
“Better?” he murmurs.
“Much,” you squeak.
“Good,” he says, eyebrows knitted in thought as he circles and circles. Your thighs twitch, and he leans forward like he can’t help himself, nose pressing solidly against you with a long, audible inhale.
A fascinated oh falls from your lips, heartbeat accelerating excitedly in your ears, but Jungkook only responds by nestling further against your pussy, tracing the length of your lips with a slow, wet swipe of his tongue through the fabric. He breathes hot against your clit and you inadvertently buck at the stimulation, only inciting the wicked curl of his lips. He looks up at you darkly through the curtain of his bangs, and something unexpected and primal simmers beneath your skin.
“Can I have these?” he asks huskily, lightly snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin.
You clear your throat, suddenly wishing you had the foresight to put on something more interesting today than your unassuming cotton undies. “Have as in you won’t give them back?”
He lets out an amused puff of air, tilts his head. “I haven’t decided yet.”
You nod your assent. You’re now impossibly invested in where he plans to take this, and it’s not like you don’t have more pairs at home. “Knock yourself out.”
Immediately, his hands are up your skirt. They’re big, but they’re also gentle, caressing your thighs and even taking a slight detour to the meat of your ass before continuing their mission to the band of your underwear. When he starts to pull, you help him, shifting your weight so he can slip the fabric over your hips and down your legs.
Jungkook’s Adam’s apple dips when his eyes are finally able to feast on you without a barrier. “So fucking hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, and then without further warning, his mouth seals around your sex.
You whimper in surprise, not at all used to the sensation of someone kissing you there. And kiss you he does, carefully at first, judging your reaction. But when you do nothing but grip the edge of the desk, biting your lip in an attempt to stifle the rather desperate sounds crawling up your throat, he swiftly devolves into kissing you with the same passion as he had the lips on your face. His tongue laps at you with sure, even strokes, dragging across the seam of you and then through it, making sure to slide along your clit on every upstroke.
Your breath quickens, jaw falling slack. You weren’t sure what you imagined oral sex to be like before this, but you never expected how easily your body submits to his ministrations. Almost without you realizing it, your thighs part even more, hips automatically canting down to meet his eager mouth. A hand reaches for him, fingers winding through his hair and rooting there, and Jungkook hums in approval, his own hands wrapping securely around your thighs, your ass. His fingers sinking into the yielding softness of you, gently holding you steady against his face while you start to gyrate and moan.
God, does he look good down there. He’s always looked good, even before you knew what he was hiding behind those shy smiles and nerdy glasses, but something about the sight of him, jaw working as he sucks on you, lashes fluttering in pleasure in his quest to please you—
Without warning, he detaches with an audible pop, and a disgruntled sound reflexively leaves you. Breathless, you start to ask him why he stopped, but the words die on your tongue when you realize he’s staring at you again. That he pulled back for a moment just so he can get a good look at the mess he’s making of you. So he can properly see how your pussy aches and drools for him.
“Good?” he asks, voice deep and thick.
“So fucking good,” you sigh. What you know he wants to hear, but also 1000% the truth. You’re starting to understand what Wendy has been blathering about, but is it always like this? Or is it Jungkook in particular who is making you so unbelievably aroused? Is your rapidly snowballing crush on him that strong, or does pussy eating simply rank high on his skillset?
As if he can hear your thoughts, Jungkook moves to slip a finger into you, and you can’t help but moan when he breaches you, the digit sliding in so easily that he quickly adds another, thumb pressing surely into your clit as he starts a slow drag in and out.
“Shit,” you shudder, eyes rolling back into your head. Hips sliding further off the desk, reflexively seeking the delicious stimulation. One of your hands scrabbles across the desk, unconsciously trying to root you, and you’re much too preoccupied with how good he’s making you feel to notice when you accidentally knock over a mug full of pens. A stapler clanks to the ground. “Fuck.”
“Look, baby,” he breathes, moaning along with you when the pet name immediately makes your pussy flutter. “Look.”
At his encouragement, you do. You watch the flex of his tattooed arm as his fingers continue to disappear within you, a lewd squelch coinciding with his movements. You watch as he adds another finger, the additional stretch immediately noticeable but even more delicious. You watch him watch you, eyes all pupil, lips swollen and slick with your desire.
“More,” you whine, frenzied and greedy. And Jungkook immediately heeds your call, leaning back in. He sucks on your clit with three fingers sunk in you, expertly crooked towards your pelvic bone, and you jolt, accidentally knocking something else off the desk. Neither of you pays the resulting clattering any attention, too wrapped up in the way you writhe at his ministrations. He hums in approval, the vibrations only intensifying your ecstasy. He flattens his tongue as your hips desperately circle, letting you control the stimulation. And when it’s clear you still need more, he changes tactics and rapidly laps at you instead, as if you’re a melting ice cream cone, while he beckons, beckons.
Your blood is volcanic, hot pressure bubbling beneath the prison of your skin, building and building within your core. The higher he takes you, the more the grip you have on his hair unintentionally tightens, but that only seems to urge him on, locking eyes with you as the thrust of his fingers turns harder and more calculated. Giving you no other choice but to finally erupt.
You cum with a loud groan, gasping through it while your cunt rhythmically clamps down on his digits, hard. Jungkook talks you through it, murmuring encouraging words your buzzing brain has trouble deciphering because his hand still doesn’t stop, pounding right into your g-spot and making your eyes cross and toes curl with the force of it. And when you finally can’t take anymore, jerking with oversensitivity, you grab him by the wrist in a wordless plea for mercy.
And Jungkook grants it. You can tell that he wants to play with you more—wants to guide you over and over to the precipice just see the look on your face when he shoves you off—but ever the gentleman, he reins in his enthusiasm and obediently slips his fingers out of you. He takes a few seconds to admire his handiwork, eyes shining with in reverence as he marvels in the dripping, throbbing, panting aftermath that is you.
“Wow,” you say, still dizzy with endorphins. Never in a million years did you think it would feel like that.
“Yeah,” he agrees, voice thick. “Wow.” He lifts his hand, remnants of you visibly slicking his fingers and webbing between the digits, and without a second thought, sticks them in his mouth and sucks. The resulting slurping of his errant tongue is nothing short of obscene, but your cunt flutters again anyway, interest clear despite being thoroughly satisfied only moments before. And when line of your essence starts to drip down your thigh, Jungkook makes sure to lean in and catch it with his tongue.
You shiver with the feeling of him on you again, mouth hot and wet, thighs still trembling. He’s taking his time, tongue dragging a slow path back up to the source, determined to feast upon the rewards of his efforts. But you can’t take it anymore. God, he’s so hot. He’s so fucking hot and you want him so fucking bad.
You need him. Biblically.
Near delirious, you reach for him, hands scrabbling across his shoulders, fingers trailing the back of his neck and guiding him to stand. Arms circling his waist and pulling him closer to you—close, close—Jungkook easily slotting into spread of your thighs.
He follows your unspoken commands easily and without question, looking down at you with a rather pleased smile that crinkles his eyes in the corners. Determined to steal the breath from his lungs, just as he just did to you, you lean in to lick that smile pliant and open. There’s a curious taste on his tongue that it doesn’t take long to deduce is you, and that’s only even more of an aphrodisiac, revving you up further.
Your hands continue to roam, sliding down a little to grope his backside, startling a laugh out of him. But when your fingers tease the waistband of his slacks, his delight visibly shutters away into something else entirely.
“You don’t have to do that,” he breathes, even as he reflexively bucks into the hand you’re using to palm him over his pants. “This was about you.”
“Then let it be about me,” you counter, a mischievous smile curling your lips. Even through his pants you can tell he's hard. That he wants this just as badly as you do. Still, when he gasps out a wait, you obediently stop your ministrations and move to take your hand back.
He doesn't let you get far, lacing his fingers through yours and visibly considering his next words for a few moments before settling on, “What do you need?”
It’s a simple enough question, but you can't help but be immediately reminded of him saying these exact words to you, a little over an hour ago. Now, however, they sit heavy on his tongue, heady and syrupy in hushed invitations.
The revelation hits you all at once, heart pounding excitedly in your ears.
You need only ask. You’ve only ever needed to ask.
And since all caution was thrown to the wind the moment you agreed to let him suck your soul out through your pussy...
“You said you’ve been thinking about me? Well, I’ve been thinking about you too. For a while, even though I’ve been trying not to.”
You’ve had his attention this whole time, but the way Jungkook's regarding you now, now that you’ve said that? He's hanging onto every word, so hyper-focused that it would unnerve you if this wasn’t exactly what you were looking for.
“So…” Adrenaline has your fingers restless against his, but you still dive headfirst. “What I need is for you to fuck me and finish what you started.”
A beat. One where he holds your gaze, the space between you so electrified that you’re surprised you don’t see sparks. But then he’s on you again, mouth meeting yours in a frenzied clash of lips and teeth, and this time he doesn’t stop you when your hands scrabble for his fly.
Jungkook wastes no time, smoothing his hands up your legs and pushing your skirt out of the way. He lets out a shuddered breath when you stroke him through his underwear, when you reach down the waistband and grip him properly.
He’s warm and thick in your hand, and the thought of him finally in your guts damn near has you vibrating. Just like you thought before, he’s already nice and hard, but you still pump him a few times just to revel in the proof of what you’ve done to him. Velvet over stone.
And despite having all the time in the world when the foreplay is for you, Jungkook doesn’t seem to have any patience for himself. You’re only able to enjoy the weight of him in your grip for a few passes before he’s surging into action. Strategically, he grabs you by the knees and lifts, maneuvering your legs into the crooks of his elbows. The move opens you up to him further and forces you more horizontal, leaning back on your forearms, nearly pressed against the cubicle wall.
The way he ate you out moments before ensured you’d be primed for him, your pussy soft and slick and just begging to be filled. When he finally lines himself up and begins the slow press in, your jaw immediately falls open, tongue going lax at the intense pleasure. “Oh my god,” you manage to whine, eyes threatening to roll shut.
The unhurried way he’s sinking into you is likely in effort not to unintentionally hurt you. Because after everything else, why not add another thing to the ever growing list of surprises you’re learning about your unassuming coworker—not only has he been tatted and muscular this whole time, but his dick is also fucking huge. Without even realizing it, you’ve stopped breathing, the pressure of him nudging your walls apart too much stimulation for your body to continue even subconscious functioning.
As if he can tell your brain is actively short-circuiting, Jungkook’s hands circle your thighs, thumbs kneading the flesh in mild distraction for when he finally bottoms out. It’s only now that you can properly notice the effect you’re having on him—hair starting to stick to his forehead from perspiration, teeth grit as he struggles to stay still for you. But you don’t want him to be still.
“Fuck me,” you whimper, wiggling in your impatience and making him suck in a breath. “Please. Give it to me.”
The resulting roll of his hips has him swearing and you seeing stars. “Fuck. You can have whatever you want,” he says, already making good on his promise with a slow grid. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
It’s good, so good, especially because Jungkook uses his grip on your thighs as leverage to ramp up his thrusts, easily maneuvering you over his cock in a way that has your toes curling. By the time he’s really fucking you—jaw set, brows furrowed in concentration—you’re crosseyed and mewling incoherently. You should be embarrassed by the sounds he’s pounding out of you, but you’re so focused on the overwhelming pleasure that you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.
Chasing the high you already feel him leading you towards, you lift one of your legs to change the angle, and he catches on immediately, helping guide your ankle to hook over his shoulder with a distracted kiss against the bone. And it’s deeper this way, the angle ensuring he brushes against your spongy nerves with every stroke, only making you spiral faster.
He notices, of course. Notices how quickly he’s taking you to your end and revels in it, sliding a hand inward and he thumbing your clit, fast and hard.
You jolt at the extra stimulation, gasping and overwhelmed. “Oh my goddd…”
“Come on,” he croons, his dulcet tone at odds with the wickedness of his hand. His dick. “Don’t you want to cum for me?”
“I…” you choke out, struggling to form any sort of coherent thought as you feel everything get tighter. “I…”
You see his lips moving as he presumably says something else. But you can’t understand anything other than your own moaning when your pussy finally locks down. This orgasm is somehow more intense than the last one, your thighs rippling with the force of it, your hands desperately scrabbling over the desk in an effort to find something to ground you.
And Jungkook fucks you through it, still talking, and it’s only when the whooshing in your ears starts to subside that you can finally decipher what he’s saying in between his own moaning. “There you go. Being so good for me. So good.”
Your only reply is your gasping breath as your orgasm slowly fades, replaced with oversensitivity. But you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want this to stop, reveling in the feel of him on you, in you. And Jungkook doesn’t, instead sliding your leg off his shoulder so he can grab you by the waist with both hands and properly yank you forward, moving you over his cock to his liking.
The desk creaks with your effort, a rhythmic cacophony with the harsh smacking of his balls against your ass. You mewl, needing him closer still, and curl your legs around his hips, locking your ankles. He’s now trapped against you, but he groans like that’s exactly what he wanted, both hands gliding up the length of your body to grasp the back of your neck instead, giving him even better leverage to plunge into you, deep, deep. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, licks into your panting mouth.
At this point, his thrusts are turning manic, but you’re meeting every one of them, deliriously following him in his descent into madness. But when he catches your lower lip with his teeth, your breath hollows, and then, quicker than you can register it’s happening, you cum again, spasming around him with a long, high-pitched whine.
Jungkook lets you ride it out, but this time, his thrusts slow while you thrash. And it’s not until your soul finally floats back into your body that you realize he’s already pulled out of you and is bucking into his own fist instead.
You almost took him over the edge with you, you realize. Though he clearly has incredible stamina, you have finally brought him to his limit, and everything inside you glows at the knowledge that he’s here, roughly pumping himself, moans falling freely from his lips because of you.
Entranced, you reach for him, delighting in the whimper he lets out when your fingers wrap around his base. His own hand immediately falls to grip the edge of the desk instead, and you glide your fist up, finding his cock sticky with your juices. Jungkook just rests his head in the crook of your neck and lets you jack him off, whining through it when you match his previously punishing pace. And it doesn’t take long before he finally, finally splashes hot over your hand. Against your thigh.
Your hand slows, twisting your wrist and milking him for every drop. Intent on extending his pleasure, just like he made sure to do for you. And you only stop when he flinches away from your touch, twitchy and shivering as he leans against you.
Reluctantly, you let go. The two of you share the same balmy breath, struggling to calm your racing hearts. And when Jungkook finally backs away from you, unhurried in the way he gathers himself back into his slacks, there is a wildly satisfied grin on his face.
You’re satisfied too, though you try to have some sense of propriety and use a tissue from the box next to Joy’s monitor to wipe off the sticky evidence of his pleasure. Throwing away the evidence, you hop off the desk, locating your long-discarded panties and slipping them back on, smoothing down your skirt.
“So,” you tease lightly. Your head swims a little with the knowledge of what you just did, but you’re surprised to realize you feel zero guilt about it. “Is your plan to stick it to everyone who’s wronged me? If so, we should do it on Mabel next. That’ll show her.”
Jungkook laughs, a giddy, giggly thing. He’s now doing his best to pick up and replace everything that fell from Joy’s desk during your romp. “Nah, I could never disrespect her like that. That ol’ girl’s been such a great wingman these past few months.”
That’s a rather curious statement to make. You frown a little, shoot him an inquisitive sound.
“You always call me when Mabel’s not working,” he shrugs. “So when I wanted to see you, she was nice enough help.”
You can’t help it—a smile creeps across your face, equally bashful and flattered. He wanted to see you! For months, by his open admission. “And the printer knew exactly when you wanted to see me?" you joke. “Sounds like dark magic to me.”
Jungkook’s valiantly trying to straighten and smooth out some of the papers the two of you disturbed. “Deleted some print jobs,” he replies offhandedly, clearly distracted by the task at hand.
Record scratch.
There’s an extended silence as your brain shuffles through different iterations of his sentence, trying to decipher exactly he meant by that. Because there's no way he just admitted to what you think he just did. “Did…did you just say you've been deleting my print jobs?” you ask incredulously. Because there’s no way.
There’s no way, yet at your words, Jungkook immediately stiffens. His lips part, but he doesn't defend himself. Doesn't say anything at all—just drops the pen he’s holding and stares at you with wide eyes.
Holy shit. Holy shit. He really has been doing it! He obviously hadn't meant to tell you that, but the relaxation of afterglow has clearly removed the filter between his brain and his mouth.
The weight of his revelation hits you, seemingly happenstance events connecting in your mind and starting to fall into place. All the hassle and irritation that stupid printer has been giving you, and it turns out Mabel has been working just fine?!
“Please don't be mad,” he pleads, finally finding his voice.
“Are you seriously saying that all this time—”
“No! No, I only did it a few times,” he sheepishly rushes to correct you. “And I promise, I haven’t done it in weeks.”
“Seriously?”
“I just...wanted an excuse to talk to you!”
“Jungkook, you literally talk to me all the time!”
“About work! Not—” he averts his eyes, lets out an irritated breath. “It’s just. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”
You blink, gaping slightly as your whirring mind tries to process what he’s just told you. “Ask me…out?”
“I didn’t mean to do…all this.” He waves a hand over the mess the two of you are still cleaning up, clearly embarrassed. “I mean, at least not before buying you dinner first.”
Moments pass as you stare at him in stunned, disbelieving silence. Then, like a volcano erupting, laughter bursts from you, loud and sudden. Because what the fuck? You can’t believe all of this is actually happening to you. In real life. “You jackass,” you cackle. “Do you have any idea how much grief that printer has been giving me? I’m over here stressed and you’ve been gaslighting me and doing it on purpose?”
“Just a few times,” he repeats, visibly confused by the juxtaposition of the mirth in your voice and the actual words you’re saying.
“And that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a jackass,” you laugh. “But…” You clear your throat, suddenly somehow shy, despite everything that has occurred and been said. “…I suppose you can still take me out to dinner.”
“Yeah?” His lips stretch into a slow, hopeful smile.
“Yeah. Now, if you want. I think we’re pretty much done here.” You smile back, quickly taking stock of the binders still scattered across the floor. Most of them are completed, but whatever else you need to do can be done tomorrow morning. “Besides, I seem to have worked up an appetite.”
Jungkook looks nothing short of smug, but you suppose you can’t fault him that. “Well then,” he practically purrs, “Let’s hurry up and feed you.”
Moving in comfortable silence, the two of you finish putting everything you’ve disturbed back in their original spots, gathering the last of the binders and stacking them neatly on your desk. You reach for your purse while Jungkook goes to collect his hastily discarded belongings.
“So,” you start. “Where are you taking me? It’s kind of late.” This late on a weeknight, kitchens would be shutting down soon.
He pauses in sliding his leather jacket back on, frowning a little as he realizes you’re right. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“You can,” you say with an unbothered wave of your hand. “That can be next time. Let’s just find something quick now.”
“So you’re saying I get a second date?” he grins.
Oh. That is what you just implied, isn’t it? You would be embarrassed by how forward you were being if Jungkook wasn’t visibly delighted by it. Wow, he really does like you. And since the feeling is mutual, you just look away coyly and say, “If you play your cards right.”
Jungkook hoists his backpack over a shoulder, and it’s only then that you see what else he happened to be carrying in his hands when he dropped everything for you. A helmet.
You gesture towards the object with a curious incline of your head. “What’s that for?”
“My bike,” comes his easy answer, but that’s not the kind of helmet that one wears for bicycle rides. No, this one is made for something much faster.
Now that you think about it, you’ve seen the motorcycle in the parking lot before—you’ve just never really given it a second thought. And now you can’t stop thinking about it, because the unassuming vehicle you’ve often passed on your way into the building has been Jungkook’s the whole time. Your mind is blown. How many more times is he going to surprise you tonight?
“…Do you always drive a motorcycle?” you ask incredulously.
“Depends on the day,” he shrugs with grin. “Sometimes I take the bus, but I like to ride my bike when the weather’s nice.” His eyes are bright with pride, visibly happy to have impressed you.
Your mouth opens and closes, thoughts racing so fast your tongue struggles to hold onto any of them. Before you realize you’re doing it, you blurt, “Alright. Are you even real?”
Jungkook blinks owlishly at you, clearly not expecting that question. “What?”
“I thought I’ve known you for months. But was any of that real?” you repeat. “Hell, do you even need glasses?”
“Of course,” he rushes to say. “It’s all me. I can just be a little shy, is all.” Wow, he actually said shy with a straight face, as if he didn’t just finish ravaging you over multiple surfaces. “And I like to be professional, so this place doesn’t get to have all facets of me. I know you can relate.”
You can. Your constant struggle to not complain? To be professional and work hard and hope you’ll be rewarded for your efforts? Obviously that’s a reason why the two of you ended up in this situation in the first place.
He ducks his head a little, tapping the glasses he picked up off the floor in petition for their validity. “And these really are prescription. I mean, I can mostly see without them, but since I stare at computer screens all day, it’s less strain on my eyes.”
“Oh,” you say quietly, feeling silly to have even asked. But who knew the quiet IT guy who kept mostly to himself was also this? Buff and tatted with a wicked tongue that you’re now intimately acquainted with.
Shyly, he holds his helmet out to you. He hesitates before speaking again, almost like he’s afraid of spooking you. “Wanna go for a ride?” And from the way color lightly blooms across his cheeks, you get the sense that he’s offering you more than just protective gear.
You take it without second thought.
The next day you and Jungkook get off the elevator together, a respectable distance between you, but arms still brushing too often to be casual. When you come to the hallway that will force you in separate directions, you pause.
“Have a good day,” you say. Jungkook grins, the delighted brightness of it baring too much teeth and crinkling his eyes in the corners.
“You too,” he winks. “Let me know if Mabel gives you any more issues.”
You snort at his brazenness, biting down a smile as you head to your cubicle. Your whole body buzzes, glowing from inside out.
You’re technically right on time, but you’ve definitely arrived later than usual, and that’s obvious when you head over to your department and find Joy already there waiting for you. She frowns as you approach, no doubt clocking your empty hands and wondering how she’s going to make it through the morning without her expected syrupy caffeine fix.
To her credit, she doesn’t call you out on it, but you don’t really care if she does. You’re done playing errand boy. From now on, everyone else will have to stop before work and get their own shit, if they want it so bad.
Because it’s all so clear to you now. You’re here, and you’re going to do your best, but you’re not going to let this place wear you down to jaded slivers. You’re going to work hard and learn all that you can, but you refuse to be anyone’s lapdog.
They will respect you. And your value will be recognized and rewarded—or you’ll simply find somewhere else where it will.
Joy must sense your new resolve, because she simply hovers by your desk and chirps, “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“Did you have a good night?”
Your lips quirk. “You could say that. What about you?”
“Eh, it was okay,” she sighs. “Met a guy for dinner, but I don’t think that’s going anywhere.”
So while you were stuck here last night, having a grade-A meltdown, she was on a date. That tracks.
Joy chatters on while you put your things away, not seeming to notice or care that you’re not particularly interested in what she’s saying. And while this would normally irritate the living shit out of you, today, it doesn’t.
Today, your eyes can’t help but glaze over as your mind drifts back to how your night went. Today, you just hum agreeably until she gets bored with you and decides to go back to her own cubicle.
And when you hear her ask over the wall if you’ve seen her stapler, you just smile and smile.
the one where you convince your boyfriend to try that stupid tiktok trend - eating sushi off his bicep - only for the sushi not to be the rawest thing caught on camera that night.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: established relationship au, porn with plot, smut, fluff (mdni!)
word count: 8,089
warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie!, multiple orgasms (like... three), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, recording/filming (the phone is basically a third character), food play (sushi on nipples, sushi on biceps, sushi everywhere), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), breast play (he fucks her tits and it's messy), clit stimulation (so much blowing on it, rubbing, tonguing), fingering, grinding and dry humping, squirting (she literally gushes everywhere), cum play (eating sushi mixed with cum, sucking her own fluids off him), hair pulling/fisting, lip biting, hickies/marking, second person pov, rich miami aesthetic, tiktok trends gone wrong (or right), that lip ring doing damage, "i fucking love you" ending, soft aftercare
a/n: I was in the process of writing chapter 3 for my jungkook series "purple tears I cry," and a certain sushi scene made me think of this that I just had to write a whole separate oneshot smut for it. this is genuinely nasty, please read at your own risk! hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of it... don't forget to reblog <3
The Miami humidity clings to your skin the moment you step out of the Uber, but the restaurant's AC hits like a wall of relief, crisp and expensive-smelling, all yuzu and polished wood and money. Nobu. Of course he chose Nobu. You catch your reflection in the dark glass doors, your teal dress catching the neon glow from the street, the silk clinging to the curve of your hips in a way that makes Jungkook's hand tighten at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who you belong to tonight.
Your hair is up, mostly, a messy twist that took you forty minutes to make look effortless, two strands curling against your collarbones like they have a mind of their own. Your skin glows, sun-kissed and dewy, and you feel his eyes on you, always on you, as the hostess leads you to the corner booth. You make sure to sway your hips a little more than necessary because you know he's watching, know his gaze is fixed on the way the silk shifts over your ass.
He's wearing a white button-up - one that should look innocent, corporate, boring, except he's left the first five buttons undone, and the fabric gapes open to reveal the hard plane of his chest, the ink that spills over his shoulder and disappears beneath the cotton. His lip ring catches the low light when he smiles at you, silver glinting against his mouth, and something low in your stomach tightens because you know exactly how that metal feels against your throat, your breastbone, the inside of your thigh. You know how it feels when he drags it down your stomach, when he looks up at you with those dark eyes while he tongues you open.
You slide into the booth and immediately pull out your phone, propping it against your water glass, angling it just so. The red recording light blinks to life. Jungkook raises an eyebrow but says nothing, just settles across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table, his foot hooking around your ankle to pull you closer.
"Documenting the experience?" he asks, his voice low, rough, the kind of voice that makes you think of hotel sheets and sweat and the way he sounds when he's inside you.
"Memories," you say, but your eyes drop to his mouth, to the silver ring there, and you know he sees it, knows exactly what you're thinking. You adjust the phone slightly, making sure the frame catches both of you, the candlelight, the way his shirt falls open when he leans back.
The server arrives with menus you don't need because you already know what you want, what you always want here. But Jungkook takes his time, asks questions about the omakase, the wine pairings, his voice smooth and deliberate while his shoe slides up your calf beneath the table, pushing the silk of your dress higher, higher, until it brushes the back of your knee and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.
"Spicy tuna," you manage, your voice breathier than you intended, and Jungkook's eyes darken because he knows, he always knows what he's doing to you.
"Two orders," he says to the server, not looking away from you. "And sake. The good stuff."
The sake arrives in a ceramic flask, and he pours for you, his fingers brushing yours as you take the cup, and you make sure to let your tongue linger on the rim when you drink, watching his jaw tighten, watching his gaze drop to your mouth. You set the cup down and lean forward, the neckline of your dress gaping just enough, and you see his eyes flick down, see his throat work as he swallows.
"You're playing with me," he murmurs, and his shoe presses harder against your leg, insistent.
"Maybe you're playing with me," you counter, and you kick off your heel under the table, let your bare foot find his thigh, slide up, up, until you're pressing against the hard outline of him through his trousers, and he hisses, his hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.
"Careful," he warns, but his hips shift, pressing into your touch, and you smile, sweet and dangerous.
"Or what?"
The spicy tuna arrives like art, ruby-red and glistening, arranged on black slate with edible flowers you won't eat. You take the first piece with your fingers because fuck the chopsticks, and Jungkook's gaze tracks the movement, watches your lips close around the fish, the rice, the wasabi that burns just enough. You moan, deliberately, because you know what it does to him, and his jaw tightens, that muscle jumping beneath the skin, his hand disappearing beneath the table where you know he's adjusting himself.
"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked already, ruined, and you haven't even started.
"So good," you say, and you take another, and another, each time making sure to lick your fingers after, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on his. You can see the flush spreading up his neck, can see the way his chest rises and falls faster than it should, the open shirt showing too much skin, the tattoo peeking out, and you want to trace it with your tongue, want to mess up his hair and ruin his composure right here in this restaurant full of people who think they're being subtle about watching you.
You lean back, your foot still working him beneath the table, and you reach for your phone, checking the angle, making sure it's still recording. You tilt it slightly to catch more of him, the candlelight catching the silver in his lip, the way his eyes look black with want.
"Say hi to the camera," you tease, and he does, his voice rough, his smile sharp and predatory.
"Hi, camera," he says, and then, lower, just for you, "Can't wait to see what you do with this footage later."
You take another piece of tuna and hold it out across the table, an offering, a test. He leans forward, never breaking eye contact, and takes it from your fingers with his teeth, his tongue brushing your fingertips, hot and wet, and you feel it everywhere, feel it between your legs where you're already aching, already soaked through your underwear.
"Jungkook," you breathe, and he catches your wrist, holds it, sucks your fingers into his mouth one by one, cleaning them, his tongue swirling around each digit while the restaurant noise fades to nothing and there's only him, only this, only the wet heat of his mouth and the promise of what comes after.
"You're killing me," he murmurs against your palm, his lips brushing the sensitive skin at your wrist, and you shiver, your foot still pressed against his hard length, feeling him throb even through the fabric.
"Good," you whisper. "Suffer."
You eat slowly, deliberately, drawing out every bite, every sip of sake, every moment of his foot tracing patterns on your calf, his knee pressing between your thighs under the table. You talk about nothing, everything, your voice light while your body screams for him, while you watch the sweat bead at his hairline, watch him shift in his seat, uncomfortable and hard and yours.
By the time you're full, stuffed, the silk of your dress feels tighter across your ribs, and you lean back with a groan, hand on your stomach, your foot finally retreating from his lap. He exhales, shaky, and adjusts himself again, not subtle, not caring who sees, and you love him like this, undone, desperate, ready to drag you out of here and fuck you in the Uber if he has to.
"I can't," you say, patting your stomach. "I'm gonna burst."
Jungkook smirks, that dangerous smirk that means trouble, that means you're in for it the second you get back to the hotel. "Shame. I like watching you eat."
"Pervert."
"Your pervert."
You flag down the server, ask for a takeout box, and Jungkook pays without looking at the check, just slides his card across the table like the amount doesn't matter, because it doesn't, not to him, not to either of you tonight. You pocket your phone, the recording still running, capturing everything, capturing the way he stands and offers you his hand, the way he pulls you against him in the elevator, his mouth at your ear.
"You're going to pay for that," he whispers, and you shiver, feel his hand slide down to grip your ass, squeezing hard.
"Promise?"
The hotel suite is all white and marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, dark now, just a black expanse beyond the glass. You kick off your heels, your feet sinking into carpet that probably costs more than your first car, and you collapse onto the sectional, pulling out your phone, scrolling through the footage while he pours himself a drink at the mini bar, his back to you, the white shirt pulling across his shoulders, the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
TikTok. Endless, brainless TikTok to wind down.
A couple on a beach. A dance trend you don't care about. A recipe for something with feta cheese.
Then: a girl, pretty, blonde, sitting cross-legged on a bed in what looks like a generic hotel room. Her boyfriend beside her, shirtless, flexing his bicep. The girl grins at the camera, then at him, and unwraps a sushi roll, places it on the hard curve of his muscle, and leans down to take it with her teeth. The comments are screaming. The views are in the millions.
You stare at the screen.
You stare at the takeout box on the coffee table.
You stare at Jungkook, who's pouring himself a drink, his back to you, the white shirt still open, showing too much skin, the lip ring catching the light when he turns his head.
Enlightenment.
You set your phone down. Stand. Cross the room on bare feet, silent, predatory. He hears you, turns, glass halfway to his lips, and you pluck it from his hand, set it on the marble counter with a clink that sounds like a promise.
"Take your shirt off," you say.
His eyebrow arches, that lip ring catching the light again. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." You reach for the takeout box, open it, the spicy tuna still perfect, still glistening, and you can feel him watching you, confused and curious and already getting hard because he always gets hard when you use that tone, that minx tone, the one that means you're about to ruin him.
He sets the glass down. Undoes the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. The shirt falls open, then off, and he's bare in front of you, all golden skin and ink and muscle that makes your mouth water. You step closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, and you press your palm to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it thud against your hand.
You set your phone down on the marble counter, angling it just so, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat in the dim room. You want this captured, want the lens to swallow every moment of what comes next, want to watch it later and feel the heat crawl up your neck all over again. Jungkook's eyes flick to the device, understanding dawning dark and dangerous in his gaze, and when he looks back at you, something has shifted. The playful tension from the restaurant has evaporated, replaced by something heavier, hungrier, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.
You lean in, your hair falling forward, those two dark strands brushing his shoulder like silk curtains framing the moment. You don't go for the sushi yet. You press your mouth to his throat first, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make him groan deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand comes up to tangle in your updo, disheveling it further, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp sings with the sting of it. You lick the salt from his skin, taste the cologne at his pulse point, the musk of him underneath, and you feel him shudder beneath your mouth, feel the sushi roll shift against your cheek as he breathes ragged and wrecked.
"You're insane," he murmurs, but his voice is already ruined, gravel and velvet, and you smile against his neck, teeth grazing his tendon, feeling his cock twitch against your hip through his trousers.
"Wait until you see what comes after the appetizer," you whisper, and finally, finally, you turn your head and take the sushi between your teeth, your eyes locked on his, watching him watch you, watching the way your lips close around the rice and fish, the way your throat works as you swallow, and the sound he makes is animal, guttural, something torn from deep in his chest that makes your thighs clench together with nothing but air between them.
He moves before you can even taste the wasabi. His hands find your waist and he's lifting you, setting you down on the cool marble counter like you weigh nothing, like you're something to be arranged, positioned, consumed. The stone bites against your bare thighs where your dress rides up, and you gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard into your flesh, cold and burning all at once. He tastes like sake and want and the promise of destruction, and you open for him, let him take, let him plunder your mouth with a desperation that makes your head spin.
"Look at you," he breathes against your jaw, his teeth dragging down your throat, sharp and claiming. "Look at you, playing with fire, recording this, thinking you're in control."
His hands find the thin straps of your teal dress, silk whispering against your skin like a secret. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, sliding the straps down your shoulders with agonizing slowness, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed flesh, his pupils blown wide and black with desire. The silk catches on your nipples for a heartbeat, clinging, teasing, and then it falls, smooth as water, pooling at your waist, and you're bare for him, your breasts heavy and full, nipples tight and aching in the cool hotel air, no barrier between his gaze and your skin.
He stares. The silence stretches, thick and electric, and you feel beautiful, powerful, laid out like a feast on this marble altar. His throat works, his hand coming up to cup you, weigh you, his thumb dragging across your nipple so slowly you whimper, arching into his touch.
"No bra," he observes, his voice rough, almost reverent. "You were planning this. Walking around that restaurant with nothing under this dress, teasing me, letting me wonder."
"I wanted you to wonder," you admit, your voice breathless, broken. "I wanted you to think about it all night."
"Evil," he murmurs, and then he's bending his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, hot and wet and devastating, and you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks, as his tongue circles and flicks and drives you mindless. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same worship, the same relentless attention, and you're squirming on the counter, your hips rolling, seeking friction, seeking him.
He pulls back with a wet sound that makes you blush even as you moan for more. His eyes are dark, predatory, the playful boyfriend from the restaurant gone, replaced by something that looks at you like you're prey, like you're his to ruin.
"Bed," he commands, his voice leaving no room for negotiation, no room for anything but obedience. "Now. On your back."
You slide off the counter, your legs shaky, the silk of your dress catching on your hips as you move. You cross to the bed, each step feeling like you're walking through honey, through heat, your body thrumming with anticipation. You climb onto the white sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin, and you lie back, your breasts falling to the sides, heavy and aching, your hair spilling across the pillows in waves.
He follows you, stalking across the room with a predator's grace, all bare chest and ink and the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over you, devouring you, and then he reaches for your phone still sitting on the counter, brings it with him, sets it on the nightstand angled perfectly to capture everything, the red light blinking like a third heartbeat in the room.
"Keep it recording," he says, not a request but a decree. "I want you to watch this later. I want you to see what you look like when you're being fucked properly."
He undoes his belt with slow, deliberate movements, the leather hissing as he pulls it free, the metal clinking as he drops it to the floor. His trousers follow, and his underwear, and then he's naked, glorious, his cock thick and heavy and curving up toward his stomach, the tip already wet with arousal, the veins along the shaft prominent and pulsing. You can't help but stare, can't help but lick your lips at the sight of him, at the thought of taking him inside you, anywhere, everywhere.
He climbs onto the bed, crawling up your body like a storm rolling in, all dark intent and coiled power. He doesn't touch you where you want him most, not yet. Instead, he straddles your chest, his knees settling on either side of your ribs, his hands bracing on the headboard above you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. You can smell him, musk and sweat and something uniquely Jungkook, can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the weight of him hovering above you.
"Look at you," he breathes, his hand coming down to grip himself, to stroke once, twice, the sight obscene and mesmerizing. "Look at these perfect tits. Do you know how many times I've thought about this? About fucking them? About painting you with my cum?"
You whimper, arching up, and he takes that as invitation, as permission. He leans forward, guiding himself down, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling into the valley between your breasts, skin against skin, velvet over steel. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, the column of his throat working as he begins to move.
He starts slow, rocking his hips, sliding himself through your cleavage, the friction making him hiss, making his abs tighten and flex with each thrust. You press your breasts together, creating a tighter channel for him, and he groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, his pace quickening, his hips snapping faster, harder. The head of his cock peeks out from between your breasts with each forward thrust, glistening and flushed, and you crane your neck, wanting to taste, wanting to lick the salt from his skin, but he pulls back just enough to deny you, a wicked smile playing at his lips.
"Greedy," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm, his control fraying at the edges. "So fucking greedy for it. You want this? Want me to cum all over you? Mark you?"
"Yes," you gasp, your own arousal spiraling tight and hot between your legs, the sight of him using you, losing himself in your body, driving you wild. "Yes, please, Jungkook, please-"
He breaks. His hips stutter, his hand gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles go white, and he comes with a shout that sounds torn from his soul, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, your throat, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way. He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself, his cock twitching against your skin, until he's spent, until he's trembling above you, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his inked shoulders.
The silence that follows is broken only by your ragged breathing, by the wet sounds of him still sliding against your cum-slicked skin. He looks down at you, at the mess he's made of you, and his eyes flash with something dark and satisfied, something possessive.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his hand coming down to smear the evidence of his pleasure across your breasts, your nipples, making you glisten with him. "So fucking beautiful."
He reaches over to the takeout box still sitting on the counter, forgotten until now, and retrieves another piece of spicy tuna, the fish still cool, still perfect. He brings it to your chest, and you watch, breathless, as he places it carefully on top of your nipple, the sushi resting there like an offering, like sacrilege.
He bends his head, his eyes locked on yours, and takes the sushi between his teeth, his tongue dragging across your nipple as he does, hot and wet and filthy, sucking the fish and your flesh together, the combination of sensations making you cry out, making your back arch off the bed. He chews slowly, savoring, his hand coming up to palm your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple, spreading his own release across your skin in obscene patterns.
When he swallows, he surges up, his mouth crashing against yours with a ferocity that steals your breath, his tongue thrusting deep, sharing the taste of tuna and salt and him, his teeth catching your lower lip, the metal of his piercing dragging against your sensitive flesh. He kisses you like he's starving, like he wants to consume you whole, like the camera isn't even there, like the world has narrowed down to just this, just you, just the wet heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.
"Mine," he growls against your lips, the word vibrating through your chest, through your bones. "Say it."
"Yours," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into his inked skin. "I'm yours, Jungkook, I'm-"
He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper, harder, his hand sliding down your body, beneath the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist, finding where you're wet and aching and ready, and you know this is only the beginning, know that the night is long and the camera is still rolling and he's nowhere near finished with you.
He pulls back from the kiss with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet room, his eyes dark and glittering with intent. His hand is still between your legs, his fingers spreading your wetness in slow, teasing circles, and you arch into his touch, desperate, needy, your hips rolling to chase more friction.
"Give me the phone," he commands, his voice rough as gravel, as velvet, as something dangerous wrapped in silk.
You reach for it with trembling fingers, the device still warm from where it sat recording, and you hand it to him, your breath catching as he takes it, as he adjusts the angle, as he points the lens down at you like he's directing a film where you're the only star.
"Look at you," he murmurs, the camera capturing everything, capturing the flush spreading down your chest, the way your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the sheen of sweat and his release still glistening on your skin. "Look at this fucking body. Do you see what I see? Do you see how perfect you are?"
He shifts back on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he hooks his fingers in the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist. He pulls slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fabric sliding down your hips, your thighs, leaving you completely bare, completely exposed to the lens, to his gaze, to the hungry darkness in his eyes.
"Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, your knees falling open, your thighs trembling as the cool hotel air hits your heated core. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the camera recording every inch of you, the way your pussy glistens with arousal, swollen and pink and aching for him. He zooms in, the lens close enough to capture the details, the way you pulse with need, the way your thighs are already shaking with anticipation.
"Beautiful," he breathes, the word almost reverent, almost profane. "Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me. So fucking ready."
He sets the phone down on the mattress, angled up at you both, the red light blinking steady and watchful. But then he's reaching for your hand, pulling you up, placing the device in your trembling grip.
"Hold it," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, filthier, his eyes locked on yours with a command that brooks no argument. "Record me. Don't you dare stop filming, understand? I want you to capture every second of this. I want you to watch later and see exactly what you do to me."
You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and you angle the camera down, your fingers shaking as you focus the lens on him, on where he's settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like he's coming home.
He looks up at you through his lashes, that silver lip ring catching the light, and he knows, he always knows what that piece of metal does to you. He runs his tongue over it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way it moves, the way it glints, and your breath hitches because you can feel it already, can imagine the cool metal against your overheated flesh.
"You like this?" he asks, his voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You like watching me? Like knowing I'm about to wreck you with this mouth?"
"Yes," you whimper, the camera trembling in your grip as you hold it steady, as you capture every moment.
He starts at your knee, his mouth hovering, his breath hot against your skin. He blows, a gentle stream of air that makes you gasp, makes your leg jerk in his grip. He holds you steady, his fingers digging into your thigh, and he drags his lips up, up, not touching, just breathing, just letting you feel the ghost of him, the promise of him.
He reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he pauses, his eyes flicking up to the camera, to you, holding your gaze as he blows again, right there, right where you're throbbing, where you're aching, where you're dripping for him.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, the camera shaking in your hand. "Please, Jungkook, please touch me-"
"Shh," he soothes, his breath washing over your clit, hot and cool and devastating. "I've got you. Be patient, pretty girl. Be good."
He blows again, directly on your clit this time, the sensation shocking, electric, making you cry out, your hips bucking off the mattress. He holds you down with one hand on your stomach, pinning you, controlling you, and he leans closer, closer, until you can feel his breath fluttering against your most sensitive flesh, until you're trembling, until you're sobbing with need.
"Look at the camera," he commands, his voice vibrating against your thigh. "Don't look at me. Look at the lens. Show them how pretty you are when you're desperate."
You force your eyes up, staring into the small black circle of the phone's camera, your vision blurred with tears, your mouth open, your chest heaving. You look wrecked, you know you do, you can see your reflection in the dark screen, can see the way your hair is tangled and wild, the way your lips are swollen and red, the way your body is flushed pink with arousal.
"Good girl," he praises, and then he finally, finally, touches you.
His tongue drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, hot and wet and perfect, and you scream, the sound tearing from your throat, your hips bucking against his mouth. He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he does it again, and again, lapping at you like he's starving, like he wants to taste every drop of your arousal, like he could spend hours here, drowning in you.
He focuses on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, then flicking it, relentless, merciless, driving you higher and higher until you're panting, until you're chanting his name like a prayer, like a curse, until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.
"So fucking loud," he murmurs against you, the words muffled, filthy. "Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel hear what I'm doing to you."
He pulls back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark and wild. "Keep recording. Don't you dare stop."
You nod frantically, your hand cramping around the phone, but you hold it steady, you keep the lens focused on him, on where he's watching you with predatory intensity.
He slides one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He adds a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars.
"More," you gasp, your head falling back, but he clicks his tongue, sharp and reprimanding.
"Eyes on the camera," he reminds you, his voice stern, commanding. "Look at me through the lens. Show me that pretty face."
You force your head up, your neck trembling with the effort, and you stare into the camera, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth open as you pant. He adds a third finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you sob, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, and he starts rubbing your clit with his other hand, circling it in tight, relentless patterns while his fingers work inside you, while he crooks them to hit that spot, that perfect spot, over and over and over.
"You're taking three fingers so well," he praises, his voice dripping with filth, with pride. "Look at you, stuffed full, dripping down my hand. You love this, don't you? Love being watched, love being used, love being my little porn star."
"Yes," you cry out, the camera shaking as your orgasm builds, coiling tight and hot in your belly. "Yes, yes, Jungkook, please, I'm gonna-"
"Not yet," he cuts you off, his fingers stilling, his hand pulling away from your clit, leaving you hovering on the edge, desperate and whining. "Not until I say. Keep holding that camera. Keep recording. I want to see your face when you cum all over my tongue."
He dives back in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you with wet heat while his thumb presses hard against your clit, rubbing in furious circles. The dual sensation is too much, overwhelming, devastating, and you're screaming now, loud and unrestrained, your voice raw as you chant his name, as you beg, as you plead for release.
"Jungkook, please, please, I can't, I need to-"
"Cum," he commands, the word vibrating against your core. "Cum for me now. Let me taste it. Let me drink you down."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard against the sensitive bud, and you break. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, like a storm, like something violent and beautiful and earth-shattering. Your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head, your hand spasming around the phone as you cry out, loud and broken and his, completely his.
He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, until you're sobbing, until you're pushing at his shoulders because it's too much, too sensitive, too everything.
He finally pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, his chin dripping with your release, his eyes dark and satisfied and wild. He looks at the camera, looks directly into the lens where you're still recording, still capturing every filthy moment, and he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, savoring your taste.
"Delicious," he murmurs, the word dripping with innuendo, with promise. "My favorite meal."
He crawls up your body, his skin hot against yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like you, like him, like everything dirty and perfect and yours. The camera is still recording, still capturing, still blinking its red light in the dark room, and you know, you know this is a night you'll be watching back for years, a night that will never stop making you blush, making you ache, making you want.
"Good girl," he whispers against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair, his body heavy and warm above you. "You did so well. You held it the whole time."
He takes the phone from your trembling grip, checks the recording, a smug, satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Perfect angle. Look at you, pretty thing. Look how beautiful you are when you cum."
He shows you the screen, and you watch yourself, watch your face contort with pleasure, watch your body arch and shake, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck even as you feel yourself getting wet again, already wanting more, already wanting everything he has to give.
He pulls you up, his hands rough at your waist, flipping you until you're straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands braced on his inked chest. The sweat-slick slide of your skin against his is electric, devastating, and you can feel him hard and thick beneath you, pressing against your thigh, leaving wet trails of pre-cum against your skin.
"Come here," he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling you down until your mouths crash together, teeth clicking, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate dance. He tastes like you, like sake, like the lingering spice of tuna and salt and sex, and you moan into his mouth, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding your soaked core against his rigid length.
"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hips bucking up to meet you, the friction making you both gasp. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good."
You reach for the takeout box still within arm's reach, your fingers trembling as you unwrap another piece of spicy tuna, the fish cool and glistening in the dim light. You break the kiss, sitting back on your heels, and his eyes track your movements, dark and questioning, until you lean forward and place the sushi directly on his nipple, the pink flesh peeking through the dark ink of his chest tattoo.
"Christ," he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat working as you bend down, your hair creating a curtain around you both.
You take the sushi between your teeth first, biting down, the flavor bursting across your tongue, but then you keep going, your mouth closing over his nipple, sucking hard, laving it with your tongue, the combination of cool fish and hot skin making him arch off the bed, his hand flying to your head, gripping tight.
"Oh fuck," he groans, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into your mouth. "Oh fuck, baby, fuck-"
You suck harder, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and he cries out, his hips jerking up, his cock sliding through your folds, bumping against your clit with each thrust of his hips. You release his nipple with a wet pop, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips swollen and glistening.
"You like that?" you purr, your voice dripping with filth, with power. "Like me eating off you? Like being my plate, my meal?"
"Yes," he pants, his eyes blown wide, his chest heaving. "Fuck yes, anything, everything-"
You start grinding in earnest, rolling your hips, sliding your soaked pussy along the length of his cock without letting him inside, teasing, torturing, your clit dragging against his rigid shaft with every movement. The friction is delicious, maddening, and you're both moaning, the sounds filling the room, raw and unfiltered.
"Oh fuck, baby," he chants, his hands gripping your waist, your hips, guiding your movements, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, just like that, just like that-"
You lean down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your mouth at his ear. "Feel how wet I am?" you whisper, your voice a dirty secret. "Feel how much I need you? I've been dripping for you all night, Jungkook. All fucking night."
"Shit," he groans, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "Shit, you're gonna make me cum like this, make me-"
He reaches for the phone, his hand trembling as he angles it up at you, capturing the way you move above him, the way your body undulates like a wave, like something primal and ancient and devastatingly beautiful.
"Look at this," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his eyes flicking between the screen and your face. "Look at you, grinding on me like a little slut, so desperate for it. You want this cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?"
"Yes," you whine, your movements becoming erratic, desperate. "Please, please, I need it, need you inside-"
He drops the phone to the mattress, the camera still recording, still capturing everything, and he grips your hips hard, lifting you, positioning you above him. You reach between your bodies, your hand wrapping around his thick length, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch, your head falling back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you, fills you, completes you.
"Fuck," you gasp, your hands braced on his chest, your nails digging crescents into his skin. "Oh fuck, Jungkook, you're so big, so-"
"Move," he commands, his voice guttural, his hands guiding your hips. "Ride me, baby. Show me how good you are."
You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls, hitting places that make your vision blur. He keeps one hand on your hip, guiding you, controlling the pace, while the other reaches for your breast, palming the heavy weight, his thumb dragging across your nipple.
"The sushi wasn't the rawest thing tonight," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive. "This is. You and me, like this, nothing between us. Just raw, filthy fucking."
You moan, your movements speeding up, your hips snapping down harder, taking him deeper, until he's hitting your cervix with each thrust, the stretch bordering on pain but feeling so perfect you can't stop. He grabs the phone again, angling it up at you, capturing your face contorted with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each movement, the place where your bodies join, wet and obscene.
"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent and filthy all at once. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect girl."
He flips you suddenly, his strength shocking, his movements fluid and predatory. You're on your back before you can process the shift, him settling between your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.
"Recording," he commands, pressing the phone into your trembling hand. "Don't stop. I want you to see this. Want you to watch later and see exactly how I fuck you."
You hold it up, the lens focused on where your bodies meet, and he pulls out slowly, agonizingly slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, glistening with your combined arousal. He hovers there, teasing, and you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.
"Quiet," he orders, his voice sharp. "Be quiet and listen. Listen to how wet you are for me."
He thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound is obscene, wet and filthy, your arousal squelching around him, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your hand shaking as you hold the camera steady, capturing the way he pulls out and thrusts back in, over and over, the rhythm building, the sounds growing louder, wetter, more desperate.
He pulls out completely, his cock slapping against your stomach, wet and heavy, and he drags the head through your folds, bumping against your clit, circling it, teasing it with short, sharp jabs that make you cry out despite your best efforts to stay quiet.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me, please-"
He lines himself up and thrusts back in, but this time he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't tease. He starts pounding into you, hard and fast and merciless, his hips snapping forward with a force that moves you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with each thrust. He's fucking you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and never leave.
"Scream," he commands, his voice ragged, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to. "Let me hear you. Let the fucking city hear what I'm doing to you."
You scream. You can't help it, the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, building and coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. He's recording your face, the camera capturing your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your temples into your hair.
"That's it," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. "That's it, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock, let me feel you-"
You break. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and beautiful, your pussy clamping down on him, milking him, and he groans, long and loud, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. But as you come, as your body convulses around him, something else happens, something wet and shocking, and you're squirting, actually squirting, your release gushing out around his cock, mixing with his cum, creating a mess of fluids that soaks the sheets, his thighs, drips down your ass.
"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes wide and wild, the camera still recording, capturing the obscene flood of liquid, the way it glistens on his skin, the way your body continues to shake and convulse. "Holy fucking shit, baby, look at you, look at this-"
He pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, dripping with your combined release, and he holds it up, angling the camera to capture the mess, the way his cum mixed with your arousal drips from his shaft, thick and white and obscene.
"Suck it," he commands, his voice rough, his hand tangling in your hair. "Suck your cum off my cock. Clean me up, kitten."
You scramble down, your body still trembling from aftershocks, and you take him into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting him, the mixture salty and musky and filthy. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair.
"Fuck, yes," he pants. "My balls, kitten, suck my balls."
You pull back, your hand wrapping around his shaft, and you duck down, taking one testicle into your mouth, then the other, rolling them on your tongue, sucking gently while your hand works his length. He pulls your hair, guiding you, his hips bucking slightly, and then you pull back, kitten licking him, small, teasing laps at the head of his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes, innocent and filthy all at once.
"Perfect kitten," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his eyes dark with renewed desire. "My perfect little kitten. Look at you, so eager, so good for me."
He starts fucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head, his hips snapping forward, pushing his cock deep into your throat, and you relax, let him use you, let him take what he needs. He's relentless, his stamina shocking, and you can feel him swelling, feel him getting close again.
"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, baby, gonna-"
He thrusts deep and holds there, his cock pulsing, and he spills down your throat, hot and thick, more than you thought possible, more than should be human. You swallow, your throat working, your eyes watering, and when he finally pulls out, spent and trembling, you collapse back onto the pillows, laughing, the sound breathless and beautiful and disbelieving.
"I can't believe you had all that cum inside you," you marvel, your voice hoarse, your lips swollen and glistening. "That was... that was the third time?"
He collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and sweaty and marked by your nails, your teeth, your possession. He pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling your head against his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering, feel the rumble of his laughter.
"For you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hair. "Only for you, pretty girl. You drain me completely. You ruin me."
The phone is still recording somewhere on the bed, still capturing the aftermath, the sweat-slick mess of your bodies, the way you curl into each other like survivors of some beautiful storm. But for now, you just breathe, just exist in this moment of shattered, perfect aftermath, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles on your back.
He doesn't ask. He just moves, shifting off the bed with a grace that seems impossible for someone who just spent himself three times over. You hear water running in the bathroom, the sound of a cloth being wrung out, and then he's back, kneeling between your thighs with a warm, wet towel in his hand.
He cleans you slowly, carefully, his touch reverent where it had been ruthless before. He wipes away the mess of your combined release, the sweat, the evidence of everything you did together, and his eyes follow the path of the cloth with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach, each one soft and lingering, worshipping you in a different language than the one he used when he was inside you.
When he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls up your body, his weight settling over you again, but different now, protective, cocooning. He finds your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes like salt and love and exhaustion. He bites your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, pulling slightly until you whimper, and then he releases you with a laugh, low and warm and vibrating against your skin.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw like he's memorizing you, like he's trying to commit every inch to memory. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"
You smile, your hand coming up to tangle in his hair, still damp with sweat. "Show me," you whisper back.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his eyes dark and endless and full of something that makes your breath catch. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, stripped bare, nothing but truth.
"I fucking love you," he says. "I love you so much it scares me."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy and real and perfect, and you pull him down, kiss him deep and slow, pouring everything you can't say into the movement of your lips against his.
The camera is still recording somewhere, still blinking its red light in the dark, but neither of you reach for it. Some moments are just for you. Just for this. Just for the two of you, tangled in white sheets in a Miami hotel room, sweating and spent and in love, the rawest thing either of you have ever known.
This was SO GOOD!!! I loved how the tension starting building right away at the restaurant and carried through the entire fic until the end just building and building. This couple seems so comfortable with each other but also pushes each other in a delicious way. 10/10
pretty.박지민 ・ pjm x f!reader ・ nsfw ・ not proof read
wc 620
synopsis jimin looked too good at the amas and you couldn’t resist.
content quickie, oral (m!receiving), kinda subby jimin, dirty talk
a/n wrote this right after watching the amas cus holy shit he looks so gorgeous i need him so bad
Jimin walked into the hotel room with his sweet singsong voice, greeting you with a kiss.
“Did you see? Artist of the year!” He said excitedly, leaning down to give you another charged kiss. Little did he know, you had been waiting all night. Ever since he stepped out of the hotel room, since you saw him on screen in that MJ-esque attire, winning an award he so deserved—it had your thighs clenching all night.
“I saw, Ji. I’m so proud of you.” You kissed the corner of his mouth before making your way down to his neck, and he quickly understood where this was going.
“Oh yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice without having to look up. You hummed against his skin, pulling away and seeing the red mark that started to adorn his skin.
“Can I show you?” You walked him back just a few steps until his back hit the wall behind him, then slowly lowered to your knees. He watched, eyes half lidded as you reached for his belt.
You pulled his pants down his thighs and reached for his length through his boxers. A moan escaped him, his head falling back against the wall. He was already half hard, and every touch you gave him rushed blood straight down his body.
“I have to meet the guys for a livestream.” He said, his voice breaking throughout. He didn’t want you to stop, but he knew he had places to be.
“I’ll have to make this quick then.” You tugged down his boxers and wrapped your hand around his girth. “You looked so good, so pretty on that stage.” That did something to him. Pretty.
Your hand that was slowly stroking him started to speed up as your tongue teased the head.
“Fuck—please,” he said, wanting more, needing more.
“Please what?”
“Your mouth,” a shameful moan followed as you finally wrapped your lips around him, and slowly started to bob your head.
You took him inch by inch, your tongue tracing in the process. His noises and fingers lightly gripping your hair only spurred you on. Your hand on him stroked what you couldn’t reach as you took him as deep as you could, before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head.
“Even your dicks pretty, Ji.” You said sweetly, a breathy whimper coming from above you. “You like that?” You asked, looking up at the already wrecked blonde. His face was flushed, lips parted, desperate for whatever you’d give him.
“You like when I call you pretty?” You ask in a teasing tone while stroking him. After a particularly slow stroke he caved, throwing his head back with a groan before nodding frantically.
“Ah—mhm, yes—“ your hand started to speed up, sending him closer to his finish. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he said, words almost a whisper.
“Come for me, Jimin.” Your tongue traveling up and down, swirling and sucking combined with your hand wrapped tightly around him, he did just that—right in your mouth.
You swallowed all of it, Jimin could’ve came a second time just from that.
“‘M so proud of you, Jimin.” You said with a smile, rising up onto your feet and planting a sweet kiss on his plump lips, his chest heaving beneath your palms.
“I’ll take care of you when I get back.” He said with a telling smirk as he made himself decent. He didn’t have to tell you, you were already sure of it.
After he left you put on the live, growing impatient watching him act normal in front of his members and thousands of fans, like nothing had happened previously and nothing was about to happen when he returned.
⤷ in which…when you fall sick, your beloved boyfriend Jungkook stays by your side as caretaker, but your symptoms turn out to be something neither of you expected - you’re pregnant. What follows is fear, uncertainty, and two people trying to navigate an unplanned future together while holding on to each other.
pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x sick!reader
genre: slice of life | unwanted pregnancy | established relationship |
warnings: mentions of pregnancy | mentions of throwing up + fainting | little angst | kissing |
word count: 12.4k
a/n: this is just a little something I had sitting in my drafts from a while ago, been kind of busy so I’m not planning to release the first chapter of my series until next week maybe : < thank you so so much for all the likes on my recent posts and 163 followers!!! I hope you guys enjoy ☺️ requests are always open
EPILOGUE !!
____________________________________________
You wake slowly, like you’re being pulled up from deep water by a rope that keeps slipping through your fingers. Your head feels heavy, stuffed with cotton and heat, and every time you try to focus your eyes on the ceiling above you, the world tilts faintly as if the room itself is breathing.
The blanket tangled around your legs feels too warm, yet the air against your skin sends chills racing down your arms, and it takes a moment for you to realize that your entire body aches in that dull, stubborn way that makes even turning your head feel like an effort.
You vaguely remember falling asleep in the middle of an unfinished email, the glow of your laptop fading somewhere beside you while Jungkook told you for the fifth time that you needed to rest.
You remember brushing him off because there were deadlines and meetings and responsibilities that didn’t care if you were tired. But now your throat burns when you swallow, your limbs feel like they belong to someone else, and the quiet apartment around you feels too still for the frantic pace your life has been moving at for months.
Somewhere in the kitchen, a cupboard door shuts softly. The sound floats through the apartment in that careful way that tells you someone is trying not to wake you, and you already know who it is before you hear the kettle click on.
Jungkook has always been like that when he’s worried - gentle, deliberate, moving through the space like every noise might disturb something fragile.
Even half asleep and feverish, you recognize the rhythm of his presence. The way he hums under his breath when he’s thinking, the way the floor creaks once near the fridge because he always steps on the same board.
You want to call out to him, but your voice feels stuck somewhere behind the ache in your chest, so you settle for pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders and closing your eyes again, hoping that maybe if you rest long enough your body will reset itself and you can pretend none of this happened.
But the bedroom door ends up opening few minutes later anyway.
The hinge gives its usual quiet creak, and warm light spills into the dim room before soft footsteps approach the bed. The mattress dips as Jungkook sits down beside you, and even before his hand touches your forehead, you can feel the warmth of him - solid, steady, and familiar in a way that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his palm presses gently against your skin, and the contrast between the coolness of his fingers and the heat in your body makes you flinch slightly. You force your eyes open, blinking up at him through the haze of the fever, and his face immediately tightens with concern.
“You’re still really hot,” he says quietly.
You try to smile. “I told you it’s just a cold.”
But Jungkook hasn’t slept properly since three in the morning. He noticed something was wrong long before you admitted it. It started with the way you rubbed your temples during dinner last night, then the way your voice sounded rough when you tried to laugh at something he said.
You kept insisting you were fine, brushing him off with tired little smiles that didn’t reach your eyes, and he tried to let it go because he knows how much you hate being fussed over. But when he woke up in the middle of the night and found you sitting in the living room with your laptop, wrapped in a blanket and shivering while sweat dampened the back of your neck, something in his chest tightened in that familiar, helpless way that always happens when you push yourself too far.
Now, sitting beside you on the bed, he studies your face with a quiet intensity that makes his chest ache.
Your cheeks are flushed with fever, your hair sticking messily to your forehead, and the dark circles under your eyes look worse than they did yesterday. You look exhausted in a way that goes deeper than just being sick, like the last few months have been draining something out of you little by little.
He knows why. He knows the pressure you’ve been under at work, the way your boss keeps dangling the possibility of a promotion while piling more responsibility onto your shoulders. He knows about the rent increase the landlord mentioned last week, the savings account that never seems to grow fast enough, the quiet late night conversations the two of you have had about whether you should move somewhere cheaper or somehow make this work.
You’re carrying too much, and Jungkook hates that he can’t take more of it from you.
He brushes your hair away from your forehead again, slower this time. “You’ve been saying that for hours,” he says softly.
Your groan is weak but stubborn. “Because it’s true.”
The truth is, you hate the way he looks at you when you’re sick. Not because it’s annoying or overbearing - Jungkook has never been the type to smother you - but because there’s something painfully gentle in his eyes that makes you feel fragile in a way you’re not used to.
You’ve spent most of your life being the reliable one, the person who keeps moving even when things get difficult, the one who doesn’t stop just because your body wants to. Being forced to lie here while someone else takes care of you feels strange and uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that don’t quite fit.
Yet Jungkook just sighs softly beside you. You feel his hand slide down from your forehead to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still real. The touch is so gentle it almost hurts.
“You should’ve told me earlier,” he murmurs.
You want to roll your eyes, but you know that’d be unreasonable. “I did tell you.”
“No,” he says quietly. “You said you were fine.”
The difference between those two things hangs in the air, and you don’t answer right away. Instead you close your eyes again, leaning slightly into his palm before you can stop yourself, because even through the fever and the exhaustion there’s something incredibly comforting about the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.
“You have work today,” you mumble eventually.
“I called in.”
Your eyes snap open. “You what?”
Jungkook had expected that reaction. Your eyebrows knit together in immediate concern, the fever momentarily forgotten as you push yourself halfway upright in the bed. The movement clearly costs you more energy than you expected because you sway slightly, and Jungkook instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hands settling around your shoulders.
“Easy,” he murmurs.
“You can’t just call in,” you insist hoarsely, even though your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. “You already took time off last month when the cafe was short staffed.”
At the moment, Jungkook is sort of in-between jobs. He mainly does freelance graphic design, but he’s not been receiving many requests lately, resulting in him having to get a job at the cafe nearby.
“That’s exactly why I can call in,” Jungkook replies calmly. “Minho owes me like five shifts.”
“But still-”
“y/n.” Your name leaves his mouth in that gentle but firm tone he rarely uses, the one that instantly makes you pause.
He studies your face for a moment before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The contact lingers longer than usual, his lips warm against your overheated skin.
“You’re sick,” he says quietly. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
The simple certainty in his voice makes your chest tighten unexpectedly, and you don’t realize how emotional you feel until your eyes start burning.
It’s embarrassing, honestly. You’re a grown woman with a mild fever, not someone who needs to cry about it. But the last few weeks have been relentless - late nights, endless expectations, the creeping fear that you’re somehow falling behind everyone else your age who seems to have their lives figured out.
Some of your friends are buying houses, some are getting married, some are already talking about kids.
Meanwhile you and Jungkook are still arguing about rent, still calculating grocery budgets, still wondering whether the future will ever stop feeling like something slightly out of reach.
So when he presses that gentle kiss to your forehead and tells you he’s staying, something inside you cracks just enough for the tears to spill over. You turn your face into the pillow quickly.
“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs softly, trying to hide the immediate panic as he tries to figure out if he’s said something wrong.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
“I said I’m fine.” Your voice sounds small even to your own ears.
A moment later you feel the bed shift again as Jungkook moves closer, his arms wrapping carefully around you from behind. He pulls you against his chest, one hand resting lightly over your stomach while the other rubs slow circles along your arm.
“You don’t have to be fine all the time,” he whispers, and somehow that only makes everything worse.
___
Jungkook hates seeing you like this.
Not because your vulnerability makes him uncomfortable - if anything, it makes him want to hold you even closer - but because he knows exactly how hard it is for you to let your guard down.
You’ve always been the strong one, the planner, the person who keeps things moving when life gets messy. Even when things were difficult between the two of you last year, when money was tight and stress turned small disagreements into bigger ones, you were the one who kept saying you’d figure it out.
But lately he’s been noticing the cracks, the late nights, the headaches, the way you stare at your laptop sometimes like it’s personally betraying you. So when your shoulders start shaking softly against his chest, Jungkook tightens his arms around you without hesitation. He presses another kiss into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo and something warm that always reminds him of home.
“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs.
“I’m just sick.”
“You’re both.”
You really can’t argue this time.
Outside the apartment, footsteps echo faintly in the hallway, followed by the familiar sound of laughter from the unit next door. Jungkook glances toward the wall automatically.
“Sounds like Taehyung and Jina are up,” he says quietly.
Taehyung and Jina are the couple who live in the apartment two doors down from you. The first night you two moved in, they had accidentally got the wrong door and tried to stumble in drunk, causing you and Jungkook to literally shit yourselves as you thought someone was trying to break in and fumble with the lock.
The next morning, however, a way more sobered up Jina and Taehyung came to your door with an apology and two bottles of wine, promising you it would never happen again and making them your best friends forever.
Almost as if on cue, a loud knock suddenly echoes through the apartment door, followed by Taehyung’s unmistakable voice shouting from the hallway: “Jungkook! Tell Jina you took the coffee she bought last week!”
Jungkook closes his eyes, and you let out a weak laugh against his chest. Somehow, despite the fever burning through your body and the endless list of problems waiting outside this small apartment, the moment feels just a little bit lighter.
The knock on the door echoes again, louder this time, followed by the sound of someone leaning dramatically against the hallway wall outside. You can practically picture the scene without moving - Taehyung slouched with exaggerated patience while Jina stands next to him with her arms crossed, pretending she’s not amused by his theatrics.
The two of them have been your neighbors for almost a year now, close enough that your lives have quietly woven together in ways that feel more like family than friendship.
You hear Jungkook sigh softly, the kind of long suffering sigh that says he loves his friends but also knows they have the worst possible timing in the universe. His arms loosen around you as he carefully helps you settle back against the pillows, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders like you’re made of glass.
The small domestic tenderness of the movement makes something warm spread through your chest despite the fever, and when he leans down to press another lingering kiss against your temple, his lips stay there for a moment longer than necessary, like he’s silently checking that you’re still here.
“You stay here,” he murmurs quietly, brushing your hair away from your face again. “I’ll deal with them before Taehyung breaks the door down.”
You try to protest automatically, because the idea of Jungkook playing caretaker while you lie here uselessly still doesn’t sit comfortably with you, but your voice comes out weaker than expected and dissolves into a tired cough halfway through the sentence. Jungkook’s expression shifts immediately, concern flashing across his face so quickly it almost startles you.
“Okay, that’s it,” he says gently but firmly, pulling the blanket higher around you as if that will somehow contain the illness. “You’re not moving from this bed for at least a few hours. I’m making soup, tea, probably forcing you to take medicine you’ll complain about, and if you try to work today I will physically hide your laptop.”
“That’s emotional blackmail,” you mutter.
“It’s survival strategy.”
You roll your eyes weakly, but the truth is you don’t have the energy to argue. Jungkook smiles faintly when he sees your resistance fade, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek before standing up.
From the hallway, Taehyung knocks again.
“Hello? Jungkook? I know you’re in there. I thought it was rude to keep someone waiting outside?”
Jungkook groans under his breath, then opens the apartment door to find exactly what he expected.
Taehyung is leaning sideways against the wall with the casual elegance of someone who somehow manages to look like a model even while wearing mismatched socks and an oversized hoodie, while Jina stands beside him holding two mugs of coffee and watching him with the patient amusement of someone who has been dating him long enough to know this behavior is permanent.
The moment Jungkook opens the door, Taehyung straightens up with exaggerated excitement.
“Finally!” he exclaims. “I thought you were ignoring me.”
“You’re knocking like a police officer.” Jungkook mutters.
“I knock with passion.”
“No, you knock like you’re trying to arrest someone.”
Jina snorts quietly beside him, lifting one of the mugs in greeting. “Morning,” she says warmly. “We brought coffee because Taehyung drank the last of ours and tried to blame the empty jar on you.”
“I was framed.” Taehyung says immediately.
“You were caught holding the jar.”
“It was circumstantial evidence.”
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaustion tugging at his patience. Normally he would laugh and let the moment stretch into one of those easy morning conversations that often end with the four of you sitting around the kitchen table for hours, but today the worry sitting heavy in his chest refuses to loosen.
“y/n’s sick,” he says quietly.
The mood changes instantly. Taehyung’s expression shifts from playful to concerned, and Jina’s eyebrows knit together in immediate worry.“How sick?” she asks.
“Fever.” Jungkook replies. “She’s been pushing herself too hard again.”
Taehyung exhales slowly. “That girl is going to work herself into the hospital one day.”
“Don’t say that.” he mutters.
___
You hear the murmur of voices from the hallway and instinctively strain to listen, though the fever fuzzes the edges of everything and makes the words blur together. Still, you catch enough to know what’s happening: Taehyung’s concerned tone, Jina asking questions, Jungkook explaining in that quiet voice he uses when he’s trying not to worry anyone else and reassure himself.
A small part of you feels guilty knowing they’re all out there discussing you like some fragile situation that needs to be managed. You hate being the center of concern, you hate feeling like the weak link in a life that already feels precarious. But another part of you - the tired, aching part that’s been quietly begging for rest - feels oddly comforted by it.
Your eyes drift toward the bedroom door just as footsteps approach again, and a moment later Jungkook returns with Taehyung and Jina following behind him.
Jina’s expression softens immediately when she sees you curled up in the bed. “Oh honey,” she murmurs, setting the coffee mugs down on your bedside table before sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress. “You look miserable.”
“That’s a strong word,” you croak.
“You have the complexion of a tomato.”
“That’s slightly less flattering.”
Taehyung leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he studies you with theatrical seriousness. “I diagnose you with terrible decision making and chronic overworking.”
“You’re not a doctor,” you mumble.
“I have intuition.”
“You once tried to fix a toaster with a butter knife.”
Taehyung’s eyes narrow. Even at 26, it’s like talking to an immature frat boy. “That toaster was disrespecting me.”
Jungkook watches the interaction with quiet relief. The room feels lighter already, Jina’s calm presence has always had that effect- she brings warmth with her in a way that settles everyone around her, while Taehyung fills the space with chaotic humor that somehow makes even stressful situations feel manageable.
They’ve been like this ever since the four of you became friends: a strange little support system built out of shared dinners, borrowed sugar, late-night conversations about life that stretch into the early morning hours.
Still, Jungkook can’t quite shake the tension in his chest. He moves to sit beside you again, his hand automatically finding yours beneath the blanket. Your fingers are warm - too warm - and he squeezes them gently while watching Jina press the back of her hand against your forehead.
“Yeah.” she says after a moment. “That’s definitely a fever.”
“See?” Jungkook mutters.
You groan quietly. “Everyone’s acting like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying,” Taehyung says casually. A pause. “Probably.”
“Taehyung,” Jina warns.
“I’m being supportive!”
Jungkook just sighs, you try to laugh, but the effort makes your head spin. The room tilts slightly, forcing you to close your eyes again as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Immediately, you feel Jungkook’s hand tighten around yours.“Hey.” he murmurs softly.
“I’m okay.” you whisper.
“You’re not okay.”
“Semantics.”
His thumb begins tracing slow circles across the back of your hand, a small repetitive motion that somehow steadies you more than the medicine probably would. When you open your eyes again, Jungkook is watching you with that same quiet intensity that always makes your chest ache. “You need to rest,” he says gently.
“I need to send three emails and finish a report.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I can do both.”
“No you can’t.” The stubbornness in his voice makes Taehyung chuckle softly from the doorway.
“Wow,” he says. “Look at you two arguing like a married couple at nine in the morning.”
Jina elbows him. “She’s literally sick.”
“Emotionally sick from capitalism.”
“That’s not helpful, Taehyung.”
You close your eyes again, exhaustion pulling at you like gravity. Jungkook watches you slowly drift toward sleep again, your breathing evening out as the conversation around you fades into the background. The tension in your face softens slightly, and he brushes his thumb gently across your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand.
He’s scared.
Not in a dramatic way, not in the kind of panic that makes people act irrationally, but in the quiet, persistent way that lingers beneath every thought. The last year hasn’t been easy for either of you. Money problems, unstable jobs, the constant pressure of trying to build a life when it feels like the ground keeps shifting under your feet.
Some nights he lies awake wondering whether he’s doing enough, whether he’s strong enough to carry the weight of the future you both keep trying to imagine. And now you’re sick. Maybe it’s just exhaustion, maybe it’s just stress, but the sight of you curled up in bed like this makes something protective rise in his chest with fierce determination.
He leans down and presses another soft kiss against your hair. “You’re going to be okay.” he whispers quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Across the room, Taehyung and Jina exchange a small glance. Because even they can feel it - the strange, uncertain tension hovering quietly in the background of this ordinary morning. And none of them know yet that this fever is only the beginning.
___
You wake again sometime later, though the concept of time feels strange and slippery, like trying to hold water in your hands. The light in the room has shifted slightly, warmer and brighter than before, which means at least an hour or two must have passed.
Your body still feels heavy and warm, the fever sitting beneath your skin like a low burning fire, but the pounding in your head has softened enough that you can think a little more clearly.
The first thing you notice is the quiet clinking sound coming from the kitchen, followed by the soft murmur of voices drifting down the hallway. Taehyung’s voice rises occasionally in dramatic bursts while Jina shushes him, and somewhere in between you hear Jungkook’s lower tone responding patiently.
The smell of something warm and savory begins to creep into the bedroom - broth, garlic, maybe ginger - and it makes your stomach twist in a strange, uncomfortable way that you can’t quite explain. Hunger and nausea seem to exist at the same time inside you, confusing and unpleasant, and you press the back of your hand against your mouth for a moment while breathing slowly through your nose.
The bedroom door opens a few seconds later, Jungkook steps inside carrying a steaming bowl carefully balanced in both hands, and the moment he notices you’re awake his entire expression softens into something gentle and relieved. He moves toward the bed quietly, setting the bowl on the bedside table before sitting down beside you like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey,” you mumble back, your voice still thick with sleep and illness.
“How are you feeling?”
You think about the question for a moment, scanning your body for an honest answer. Everything aches faintly, your throat is still a little sore, and the strange nausea twisting through your stomach hasn’t fully settled. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you admit.
Jungkook nods slowly. “That tracks.” He had expected the fever, but what he hadn’t expected was the way his chest tightens every time you move even slightly, as if your discomfort is something he can physically feel inside himself.
While you were sleeping, he made soup in the kitchen with Jina hovering nearby offering practical advice while Taehyung sat at the table dramatically googling symptoms and reading them aloud like a medical thriller narrator.
Jungkook tried to ignore him, but every once in a while one of the symptoms would sound vaguely accurate and he’d feel a flicker of worry ignite again in his chest. He knows it’s probably nothing serious. People get sick, people get fevers, stress alone can knock someone down for a few days. Still, when you sit up slowly in the bed now, Jungkook instinctively slides one arm behind your back to help support you. “Careful,” he murmurs.
“I’m not made of glass,” you say weakly.
“You’re currently made of fever and stubbornness.”
“That’s just my natural state.”
He smiles faintly at that, adjusting the pillow behind you before picking up the bowl again.“Soup,” he announces.
You look at it with suspicion, and the smell of it hits you immediately. At first it’s comforting - the warm scent of broth and vegetables, something simple and familiar - but then your stomach flips sharply in protest, and suddenly the smell feels overwhelming. You swallow hard, pressing your lips together as a wave of nausea rises unexpectedly in your chest.
Jungkook notices instantly, his eyebrows knit together as he watches your expression change. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” you say quickly.
“You just looked like the soup personally offended you.”
“I’m just not that hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Your stomach chooses that exact moment to twist again. You close your eyes briefly.
“Okay,” Jungkook says slowly, setting the bowl back down. “That’s not normal.”
“It’s just the fever.”
“You look nauseous.”
“I’m sick, Jungkook. Nausea is part of the job description.”
From the doorway, Taehyung leans in dramatically. “Have we considered alien parasites yet?”
“Taehyung,” Jina says flatly from the hallway.
“I’m brainstorming.”
Jungkook just ignores him completely. His focus is entirely on you, watching every tiny movement in your face like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He reaches out carefully, brushing his fingers along your jaw before tilting your chin slightly upward so he can study your eyes. “You’re pale,” he murmurs.
“I’m literally burning up.”
“You’re pale and burning up.”
“That sounds impressive.”
“y/n.” Your name comes out softer this time, threaded with quiet worry.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room settles into a strange silence where the only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall and Taehyung whisper arguing with Jina about something in the kitchen. Then Jungkook sighs. “You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard lately,” he says quietly.
“That’s not new.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
You lean back against the pillows, exhaustion tugging at your body again. “You think I don’t know that?” you whisper.
You hate this conversation. Not because Jungkook is wrong - he isn’t - but because acknowledging it out loud makes everything feel heavier somehow.
The truth is that the last few months have been exhausting in ways that go deeper than physical tiredness. Your job keeps asking for more and more while offering nothing certain in return, your savings account never seems to grow fast enough, and every conversation about the future feels like standing at the edge of a foggy road where you can’t quite see what’s coming next.
Jungkook has his own worries too, you know that. The café where he works barely covers his expenses, and though he never complains openly, you’ve seen the tension in his shoulders when bills arrive or when his manager mentions cutting hours again.
The two of you keep trying to reassure each other that things will get better eventually, but sometimes “eventually” feels very far away.
You glance up at him now, noticing the faint dark circles under his eyes. “You should’ve gone to work,” you say quietly.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
“You can’t keep missing shifts because of me.”
“Stop,” he says immediately, voice calm but firm. “First of all,” he says slowly, “I didn’t miss work because of you. I chose to stay home because my girlfriend is sick and clearly exhausted and probably would’ve tried to work herself into another fever if I wasn’t here.”
“I would not.”
“You absolutely would.”
“That’s speculation.”
“That’s experience.”
Taehyung’s voice floats in from the hallway. “He’s right, y/n, you need to listen.”
“Stay out of this,” you call weakly.
“I’m emotionally invested.”
Jina laughs quietly somewhere behind him, and Jungkook shakes his head but there’s a small smile tugging at his mouth now. Then he looks back at you, and the humor fades into something softer.
“You take care of everyone else all the time,” he says gently. “Let someone take care of you for once.”
His words settle somewhere deep in your chest. Before you can respond, another wave of nausea hits suddenly and unexpectedly, stronger than before. You clamp a hand over your mouth, leaning forward slightly as your stomach twists violently.
Jungkook reacts instantly. “Whoa - hey -” He’s beside you immediately, one arm around your shoulders while the other grabs the trash can from beside the desk and pulls it toward the bed. “Breathe,” he murmurs softly.
You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his voice and the steady warmth of his hand rubbing slow circles along your back. After a few tense seconds the nausea passes, and you sag back against him weakly. “That was…unpleasant.” you mumble.
Jungkook’s hand stills. “y/n.” he says slowly.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t usually get nauseous when you’re sick.”
You blink, for a moment neither of you says anything. Then Taehyung’s voice drifts in again from the hallway. “You know what else causes nausea?”
“Taehyung,” Jina says sharply.
But the word hangs quietly in the air anyway. Pregnancy.
For a few seconds after Taehyung’s comment, the entire apartment seems to fall into a strange kind of silence, the kind where no one wants to acknowledge what was just said but everyone heard it clearly.
You remain sitting on the edge of the bed, Jungkook’s arm still wrapped firmly around your shoulders while his other hand continues rubbing slow, grounding circles along your back. Your stomach has settled slightly, but the lingering nausea leaves a sour taste in your mouth and a foggy uneasiness in your mind.
The word hangs there -pregnancy- uninvited and almost ridiculous considering everything else happening in your life right now.
You and Jungkook barely have the time or stability to manage rent and groceries some months, let alone even imagine a child. The idea feels so far outside the realm of possibility that your brain almost rejects it instantly, pushing it away like an intrusive thought that doesn’t belong here.
Still, the quiet tension in the room makes your chest tighten slightly, and when you glance up at Jungkook you notice that he’s gone unusually still, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor like he’s trying very carefully not to react too quickly.
Taehyung clears his throat from the hallway.“Okay,” he says after a moment, his tone suddenly awkward in a way that’s rare for him. “That sounded a lot less dramatic in my head.”
“You think?” Jina mutters.
“I was trying to be helpful.”
“You are physically incapable of subtlety.”
Jungkook exhales slowly, he hadn’t meant to react. But the moment the word was spoken, his brain immediately began connecting pieces in a way he didn’t want it to. The nausea. The exhaustion you’ve been dealing with for weeks. The strange smell sensitivity when he cooked eggs two mornings ago and you complained the scent was “aggressively offensive.”
At the time he assumed it was stress, or maybe the beginning of the cold you’re dealing with now, but suddenly those memories rearrange themselves in his mind into a pattern he doesn’t fully understand yet, and the thought makes his chest tighten in a strange, unfamiliar way. Still, he refuses to jump to conclusions.
You’re already overwhelmed, the last thing you need right now is unnecessary panic about something that might not even be true. So Jungkook simply shifts slightly closer to you, tightening his arm around your shoulders in a quiet protective gesture before pressing a gentle kiss against your hair.
“Taehyung,” he says calmly, “maybe don’t play medical detective right now.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You googled symptoms whilst eating our cereal.”
“That’s how modern medicine works.”
Jina sighs loudly from the hallway. “Taehyung, come help me in the kitchen before you diagnose someone with space rabies.”
“That’s a real concern.”
Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, you lean your head back against his chest, letting the steady warmth of his body anchor you while your thoughts try to settle. His arm remains wrapped securely around you, his fingers occasionally brushing lightly against your arm or your shoulder in those small unconscious touches that he always does when he’s worried. The intimacy of it feels grounding, even comforting, but the word from earlier keeps echoing faintly in your mind no matter how hard you try to ignore it.
Pregnant.
It feels impossible.
You and Jungkook have talked about the future before - late at night, lying in bed with the lights off while the city hums quietly outside the windows - but those conversations always felt distant and hypothetical. Kids were something that belonged in a version of your life where finances were stable, careers were settled, and neither of you were constantly calculating grocery budgets or worrying about rent increases.
That version of life doesn’t exist yet.
Your stomach flips again slightly, though this time the nausea is milder, more like a lingering uneasiness than a full wave.
Jungkook notices immediately. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.
“Yeah” you whisper.
“You sure?”
“Just…tired.”
He presses another soft kiss against your temple. “I know you are.” Jungkook gently guides you back down onto the bed a few minutes later, adjusting the pillows carefully until you’re lying comfortably against them while he pulls the blanket up to your chest again.
The caretaker instinct in him has fully taken over now, and every movement he makes is careful and attentive, like he’s trying to anticipate your needs before you even voice them. He grabs the bowl of soup again, stirring it lightly before holding it out toward you with patient determination.
“Try a few bites,” he says softly. “If it still makes you nauseous we’ll stop.”
You look at the bowl skeptically. “If I throw up again I’m blaming you.”
“That’s fair.” He lifts the spoon toward you, waiting patiently until you reluctantly open your mouth. The soup is warm and mild, the flavor gentle enough that your stomach doesn’t immediately protest this time. You swallow slowly, surprised that it actually feels somewhat comforting.
“Okay,” you admit quietly after a moment. “That’s…not terrible.”
Jungkook smiles faintly. “I’ll add that to my resume.”
“You burned ramen last week.”
“That was a structural failure of the pot.”
You manage a weak laugh, and the sound seems to visibly relax something in his shoulders. He feeds you another spoonful.
___
In the kitchen, Taehyung whispers loudly.
“Do you think they heard us?”
“Yes.” Jina whispers back.
“Do you think I ruined everything?”
“You didn’t ruin anything, but maybe don’t shout pregnancy theories across the apartment next time.”
“I said I was brainstorming.”
“You brainstorm like a thunderstorm.”
Taehyung sighs dramatically. “I’m just worried about them.”
Jina softens slightly. “I know.”
“They’ve been stressed for months.”
“I know.”
“And if something like that actually happened-”
“Then they’d figure it out.” she says gently.
Taehyung nods slowly.
___
Back in the bedroom, the soup bowl is half empty now. You feel a little better - still feverish, still exhausted, but the warmth in your stomach helps ease some of the dizziness that was lingering earlier.
Jungkook sets the bowl aside and wipes your mouth gently with a napkin like it’s the most natural thing in the world, the tenderness of the gesture making your chest ache in a soft, complicated way.
“You’re really going all out with the nurse routine.” you murmur.
“You deserve it, babe.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Not to me.”
Your eyes meet his, for a moment neither of you says anything, then you sigh quietly. “Jungkook.” you whisper.
“Yeah?”
“What if we never catch up?”
His eyebrows knit together slightly as he tries to figure out what you mean.
“With life” you clarify. “With everything we’re supposed to have figured out by now.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, then he reaches out and gently takes your hand. Jungkook squeezes your fingers softly, his thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles while he looks at you with that same steady expression he always has when conversations turn serious. “You know something?” he says quietly.
“What?”
“I don’t think anyone actually has it figured out.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“But it’s honest.”
You stare at him.
He leans forward slightly, resting his forehead gently against yours. “I know things feel messy right now,” he murmurs. “Money’s tight, work is stressful, the future feels like a giant question mark. But we’re still here, we’re still trying, and as long as we’re doing that together, I’m not really that scared.”
His words settle warmly in your chest, then he presses a soft lingering kiss against your lips. It’s gentle and slow, more comfort than passion, but it makes your entire body relax slightly. When he pulls away, his hand comes up to brush your hair behind your ear. “I’m here, I’m always here.” he whispers.
___
The quiet calm that settles over the bedroom after that kiss feels fragile in the best way, like a moment suspended gently between everything that has already gone wrong and everything that might still be uncertain ahead.
You’re still warm from the fever and heavy with exhaustion, but lying there with Jungkook so close makes the weight of it all easier to carry somehow. His hand hasn’t left yours since the conversation ended, and the small repetitive motion of his thumb tracing slow circles along your knuckles has become almost hypnotic, grounding you in a way that no amount of sleep or medicine has managed to do yet.
Your head is resting lightly against his shoulder now, the steady rise and fall of his breathing creating a quiet rhythm beneath your cheek that makes you feel strangely safe despite the dizziness that still lingers faintly at the edges of your senses. For a moment you allow yourself to exist in that softness without thinking about work emails, rent payments, or the uncomfortable word that was dropped into the room earlier like a stone into still water.
Jungkook shifts slightly beside you. “Come here,” he murmurs quietly, sliding one arm around your shoulders and gently guiding you closer until your body is tucked fully against his chest.
“I’m already here” you mumble.
“You’re halfway here.”
“That’s the best you’re getting.”
“No it isn’t.” Before you can protest further, he carefully lifts you, one arm under your knees and the other around your back in a slow, deliberate motion that makes you gasp softly in surprise.
“Jungkook!”
“You’re burning up and dizzy,” he says calmly as he stands. “The bed feels too stuffy, we’re relocating.”
___
Jungkook carries you out of the bedroom and into the living room with the same careful focus he might use when carrying something fragile and irreplaceable. You’re not particularly heavy, but he still moves slowly, mindful of the way your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for balance and the way your forehead presses weakly against his shoulder as another small wave of dizziness passes through you.
Taehyung and Jina look up from the kitchen table when he enters the room, and both of them immediately go quiet when they see the way Jungkook is holding you. “Whoa,” Taehyung says softly. “Emergency princess transport.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook mutters.
Jina stands quickly, pushing the coffee mugs aside. “Is she okay?”
“She’s just really dizzy,” Jungkook replies.
You lift your head slightly. “I’m literally right here, you know.”
“Yes,” Taehyung says solemnly. “But you look like someone who might pass out at any moment.”
“That’s very reassuring.”
Jungkook gently lowers himself onto the couch, settling you carefully against his chest again before pulling a blanket from the armrest and draping it over your legs with quiet precision.“There,” he murmurs.
You sink into the couch cushions with a quiet sigh, letting your head rest against Jungkook’s shoulder while his arm stays wrapped securely around you. The living room feels cooler than the bedroom, and the faint breeze from the slightly open window brushes softly against your overheated skin in a way that feels immediately relieving.
Jungkook’s hand moves up to your hair again, absentmindedly brushing gentle strokes through it while his other arm stays firmly around your waist as if he’s making absolutely sure you don’t slide off the couch or drift away somehow.
“You’re doing a lot,” you mumble weakly.
“I’m just doing the bare minimum.”
“The bare minimum does not include carrying someone across the apartment like a Victorian husband.”
“I would absolutely be a Victorian husband.”
“You’d get into duels.”
“For honor.”
“You’d duel the landlord.”
“Honestly that’s still an option.”
Taehyung snorts loudly from the table. “I would pay money to watch Jungkook challenge someone to a duel over rent prices.”
Jina just rolls her eyes. “Please don’t encourage him.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he focuses on the subtle details of how you’re feeling in his arms. Your skin still feels warmer than normal, though the fever seems slightly lower now, and every few minutes he notices you shifting uncomfortably like your body still hasn’t fully decided whether it wants to sleep or stay awake.
When you suddenly wrinkle your nose and press your face deeper into his shoulder, Jungkook glances down in confusion. “What?” he asks softly.
“Does something smell weird in here?” you mumble.
Taehyung looks around the room. “It smells like soup.”
“No,” you say, frowning slightly. “Something else.”
Jina lifts her sleeve cautiously and sniffs it.“It’s not me.”
Jungkook smells the air too, confused. “It just smells normal.”
You groan quietly, pressing your forehead against his chest. “Everything smells too strong.”
Taehyung’s eyes flick briefly toward Jina, she notices, but neither of them says anything.
___
A few minutes later, the dizziness returns suddenly. You’re in the middle of responding to something Taehyung said when the room shifts sharply around you, the edges of your vision blurring for a moment as a heavy wave of lightheadedness rolls through your body.
Your hand grips the front of his shirt weakly as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
The room moves very quickly then. Jina stands, Taehyung pushes his chair back. Jungkook tightens his arms around you, pulling you fully against his chest while lowering his voice into the calm, steady tone he uses when he’s trying not to panic. “Okay,” he murmurs gently. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
Your head drops against his shoulder, Jungkook presses a soft kiss against your hair once he feels your breathing stabilize. “You scared me,” he whispers quietly.
“I’m okay,” you mumble weakly.
“You almost fainted.”
“I didn’t faint.”
“You almost fainted.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s really not.” Taehyung interjects, he leans back slightly to look at you properly, his brows furrowed in concern. “y/n…when was your last proper meal?”
You blink slowly. “…lunch…yesterday..?”
Taehyung stares. “That’s illegal.”
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not food,” Jina says gently.
Jungkook just sighs, pulling you closer again, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rests protectively across your stomach without him even realizing it. His thumb begins tracing slow soothing patterns against your side while he presses another lingering kiss to your forehead. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “And dramatic.” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re exhausted and dramatic.”
“That’s my brand.”
His lips brush lightly across your temple again, then your cheek. “You need rest,” he whispers. “And maybe…not ignoring your health for two moments straight.”
All you can do is groan quietly.
Yet the thought of you possibly being pregnant has been quietly forming in the back of Jungkook’s mind all morning. Now, it returns again, stronger this time, and he instinctively tightens his arm around you slightly. Not in panic, just awareness, and the strange feeling that something bigger than a simple fever might be unfolding slowly inside this small apartment.
___
The afternoon slowly melts into evening without anyone really noticing when it happens. The light through the living room windows shifts gradually from bright gold to soft amber, stretching long shadows across the apartment floor while the quiet hum of the city outside begins to settle into the slower rhythm of nighttime.
You’ve barely moved from the couch since Jungkook carried you there earlier, though the position has changed several times throughout the day as your body alternates between restless discomfort and heavy exhaustion.
Right now, you’re curled almost entirely in Jungkook’s lap, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist while your head rests beneath his chin, your cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. The blanket still covers both of you, tangled around your legs and tucked carefully around your shoulders because Jungkook keeps adjusting it every time he thinks you might be getting cold.
His hand moves slowly through your hair in the same soothing motion he’s been repeating for hours, his fingers occasionally pausing to brush your forehead or trace gentle circles along your temple whenever your breathing changes slightly.
The quiet intimacy of it feels almost surreal, like the world outside the apartment has paused for a moment to let you both exist in this fragile bubble where nothing matters except the steady warmth of his arms and the quiet reassurance of his presence.
Jungkook hasn’t stopped watching you, even when you’re asleep, even when you’re quiet.
Every time your breathing shifts or your body moves even slightly, his attention snaps back to you with that same focused concern that has been sitting quietly behind his eyes all day. From the kitchen table, Taehyung has been observing the scene for hours with the fascinated curiosity of someone watching a nature documentary.
“You know,” he whispers to Jina, “if someone walked in right now they would assume Jungkook is guarding the last surviving panda on Earth.”
Jina glances toward the couch. “That’s not entirely inaccurate.”
Taehyung leans back in his chair thoughtfully. “He hasn’t moved in like three hours.”
“He doesn’t want to wake her.”
“That’s adorable.”
___
Jungkook hears every word they say, he just doesn’t respond.
His attention stays fixed on you as you sleep quietly against him, your face softened by exhaustion in a way that makes something protective twist deep in his chest. He keeps replaying the events of the day in his mind - your dizziness, the nausea, the way certain smells suddenly seem overwhelming to you for no clear reason.
On their own, none of those things would seem particularly unusual. People get sick, bodies react strangely sometimes, but stacked together like this, the pattern has started to form something he can’t quite ignore anymore. And the truth is…the possibility scares him. Not because the idea itself is bad, but because the timing feels impossibly complicated, you’re both barely holding your lives together right now. Money is tight, work is unstable. The future already feels uncertain enough without adding something as huge and life altering as a child into the equation.
Jungkook glances down at you again. His fingers gently brush your cheek, and despite everything, the thought doesn’t fill him with dread. It fills him with fierce, quiet determination.
___
You wake slowly again sometime later, though this time the first sensation you notice is the dull churning discomfort in your stomach. Your eyes open halfway before the nausea hits fully, rising quickly from deep in your chest in a way that makes your breath hitch slightly. Instinctively, you shift upward in Jungkook’s arms, pressing a hand against your mouth while the room spins faintly around you again.
Jungkook reacts immediately. “Hey-” His arm tightens around you as he sits up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
You shake your head weakly. “I feel…really sick.”
Jina is already moving toward the couch.“Bathroom?” she asks gently.
You nod quickly, Jungkook stands instantly, supporting most of your weight as he guides you carefully toward the hallway.
Taehyung scrambles to move chairs out of the way. “Emergency path!” he announces.
“Taehyung,” Jina mutters.
“I’m assisting!”
___
A few minutes later, you’re back on the couch, looking pale and exhausted but slightly less nauseous now that the worst of the wave has passed. Jungkook sits beside you again, though this time he’s positioned slightly closer, one arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders while the other holds a glass of water that he keeps gently offering every few minutes. “Small sips,” he murmurs softly.
You take one reluctantly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I still will.”
“You’re stubborn even when you’re sick.”
“That’s just my personality.”
He smiles faintly, but the worry in his eyes hasn’t faded.
Across the room, Jina quietly gestures for Jungkook to follow her into the kitchen. He hesitates for a moment, glancing down at you. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs softly.
You nod weakly.
In the kitchen, Taehyung immediately senses the serious tone and pretends to become extremely interested in the refrigerator so he can listen without looking obvious.
Jina lowers her voice. “Jungkook,” she says gently.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions…but have you considered the possibility that Taehyung might actually be right about something for once?”
Jungkook exhales slowly. “I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to scare her by bringing it up if it’s just a coincidence.”
Jina nods thoughtfully. “That’s fair.”
“But if it’s not a coincidence…” Jungkook murmurs quietly, his voice trailing off.
___
Back in the living room, you’re staring quietly at the ceiling while the distant murmur of their conversation drifts faintly through the apartment. Your body still feels heavy and strange, like something inside you is slightly off-balance in a way you can’t quite explain. The nausea earlier felt too sudden. Too intense. And the strange sensitivity to smells has been getting worse for days now if you’re being honest with yourself.
Your hand drifts unconsciously toward your stomach, the thought appears again.
Pregnant.
Your chest tightens immediately, that can’t be right, your life is nowhere near stable enough for something like that yet. You and Jungkook are still trying to figure out basic things like long-term jobs and whether you’ll even stay in this apartment next year. The idea feels terrifying, but also strangely real.
___
Jungkook returns a minute later. The moment he sits down beside you again, you instinctively lean toward him without thinking, your head settling automatically against his shoulder while his arm wraps around you once more. “You okay?” he murmurs softly.
You hesitate. “…kook?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something kind of scary?”
His arm tightens slightly around you. “Anything.”
You swallow slowly. “Earlier…when Taehyung said that thing…”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer, but his hand finds yours slowly, and the quiet tension in the room seems to grow heavier.
___
Later, you wake slowly again, not because the fever has broken but because your body refuses to stay asleep anymore, like it’s trapped in that strange space between exhaustion and discomfort where rest never quite reaches you. The apartment is quieter now than it was earlier, the kind of quiet that settles after people have been talking for a long time and the air has grown tired along with them.
Your head feels heavy against the pillow, your thoughts moving slower than usual, like they’re wading through thick water just to reach the surface. For a moment you simply lie there and listen to the distant hum of the refrigerator, the faint creak of pipes in the walls, the soft clinking of dishes somewhere in the kitchen.
It takes a few seconds before your mind connects the sound to Jungkook, and even in your feverish haze something warm and aching spreads quietly through your chest. Because even when you insisted he didn’t need to take care of you, even when you tried to pretend this was nothing more than a stupid cold, he stayed anyway, he always does.
You shift slightly beneath the blankets and instantly regret it, your stomach twisting with a strange wave of nausea that rolls through you so suddenly it steals the air from your lungs. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing carefully through your nose as you wait for it to pass, but the feeling lingers longer than you expect, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, settling uneasily beneath your ribs like something trying to warn you that your body is not behaving the way it normally does.
In the kitchen, Jungkook is staring at a pot of soup like it personally offended him. He has already reheated it twice because he keeps getting distracted halfway through, his thoughts circling back to the same uneasy observations that have been bothering him since this morning.
At first it was easy to believe you were just sick - the fever, the exhaustion, the way your voice sounded scratchy and small when you tried to argue with him about staying home from work. But the more he watches you, the more something feels slightly wrong in a way he can’t quite explain. You’re pale, but your cheeks are flushed. You say your stomach hurts but you barely touched the soup earlier. You look tired enough to sleep for three days but your body keeps waking you up again.
Jungkook rests his hands on the kitchen counter and exhales slowly, trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling into worry that might not mean anything. People get weird symptoms when they’re sick all the time. Stress does strange things to the body, and God knows both of you have had more stress than usual lately.
Between his long hours at the studio trying to keep freelance clients happy and your job pushing you toward responsibilities you never even asked for, life has started to feel like a long list of problems you’re both trying to survive together instead of something you’re actually living. Still, when he hears the soft creak of the bedroom door opening, Jungkook turns immediately, the momentary tension in his shoulders replaced by instinctive concern as he steps into the hallway.
You barely make it halfway down the hall before he’s there. Your hand is pressed weakly against the wall, your balance wavering just enough to make his heart jump into his throat the moment he sees you. Jungkook reaches you in two quick steps, one arm wrapping around your waist automatically while his other hand steadies your shoulder, his touch firm but careful like he’s afraid you might fall apart if he holds you too tightly.
Up close, he can see the faint crease between your brows, the way your breathing is slightly uneven, and something protective flickers across his face before he even realizes it’s there. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs quietly, guiding you to lean against him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“What are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting.” His voice isn’t scolding exactly, but there’s that familiar softness underneath it - the tone he always uses when he’s trying to take care of you without making it sound like he’s taking control.
You try to answer, but the nausea hits again before the words come out, and suddenly your fingers tighten against the front of his shirt as your stomach twists violently enough to make your knees feel weak. Jungkook’s expression changes instantly. “Okay,” he says quickly, already guiding you toward the bathroom without another question. “Okay, it’s okay. Just breathe.”
The bathroom floor is cold beneath your knees when Jungkook helps you kneel beside the toilet, and you hate the embarrassment that burns across your face almost as much as the nausea itself. Being sick is one thing, but being this helpless in front of him is another.
Your hair falls forward as you lean over the porcelain, and before you can even reach to push it away Jungkook is already behind you, gathering it gently into his hand to keep it out of the way. The gesture is so instinctive it almost hurts your chest.
He doesn’t rush you or fill the silence with unnecessary words while your body fights through the nausea. He simply stays there, one hand holding your hair, the other rubbing slow circles against your back with quiet patience as if this moment - this messy, uncomfortable, humiliating moment - is just another way of loving you.
When it finally passes, leaving you shaky and exhausted, you slump slightly against him without thinking, your forehead resting weakly against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice barely more than breath.
Jungkook frowns immediately. “Why are you apologizing?” His voice is softer now, almost incredulous as he reaches for a damp towel and presses it gently against the back of your neck. “You’re sick, not committing a crime.” He crouches beside you instead of standing, making sure he’s at your level as he studies your face with quiet concern.
He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips tremble slightly like you’re trying not to cry even though you’re probably too tired to fully understand why. Jungkook brushes his thumb lightly across your cheek without thinking, the touch so tender it almost startles both of you. “Come on,” he murmurs after a moment. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
The walk back to the bedroom is slower this time. You lean heavily into him, one arm looped loosely around his waist while his hand stays secure at the small of your back, guiding you with the careful patience of someone who has already decided he will take care of you no matter how long it takes.
When you reach the bed he helps you settle beneath the blankets again, adjusting the pillows behind your head until you’re comfortable before sitting beside you with that same quiet attentiveness he’s had all day. For a few minutes neither of you speak, your fingers drift lazily toward the hem of his sleeve, holding onto the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored to reality. Jungkook lets you, of course. He always does.
“You’ve been throwing up a lot,” he says eventually, his voice thoughtful but gentle.
You grimace weakly. “That’s…usually what happens when people are sick.”
“I know,” he replies quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s just…weird.”
You blink at him slowly. “Weird how?”
Jungkook hesitates, searching for words he isn’t sure he should say out loud yet. Because the truth is he doesn’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it really is just a bad virus, maybe stress has finally caught up to both of you in ways your bodies can’t ignore anymore, but the strange feeling in the back of his mind refuses to disappear, growing stronger every time he watches you struggle with symptoms that don’t quite fit together the way they should.
“…I don’t know,” he admits finally.
You study his face, noticing the faint crease between his brows, the quiet worry he’s trying very hard not to show, and suddenly your own chest tightens with something deeper than sickness. Because you know that look, it’s the look Jungkook gets when life is about to throw something complicated at both of you, and neither of you are ready for it yet.
___
You don’t remember falling asleep again, but the next time you wake it’s darker outside, the soft grey evening light slipping through the curtains and painting quiet shadows across the walls of the bedroom. Your body feels strange in a way that doesn’t quite match the kind of sickness you’re used to.
The feverish heat from earlier has faded into something else now - a heavy exhaustion that sits deep in your muscles like gravity has doubled overnight. Even lifting your arm feels like it takes effort. Your stomach still aches faintly, not sharp but unsettled, the kind of discomfort that lingers in waves instead of constant pain.
For a moment, you simply lie there and breathe, staring at the ceiling while your mind tries to gather itself. Normally when you’re sick you either sleep endlessly or feel restless and miserable, but this feels different. Your body is tired in a deeper way, like it’s been quietly working overtime on something you can’t see.
A strange sensitivity prickles at your nose suddenly, and when the faint smell of garlic drifts into the room from the kitchen your stomach flips unpleasantly. You swallow hard, pressing your palm against your mouth as a new wave of nausea threatens to rise. It’s not as violent as earlier, but it’s persistent, creeping slowly upward like it’s testing your limits. “Seriously?” you mutter weakly to the empty room, dragging the blanket over your face as if that might block the smell somehow.
In the living room, Jungkook is trying very hard not to look like he’s worrying again, Taehyung and Jina arrived about twenty minutes ago after Jungkook reluctantly admitted that he might need help if this turned into a full-night situation.
Taehyung is leaning against the kitchen counter now with his arms crossed loosely, watching Jungkook stir a bowl of plain rice with the focused seriousness of someone preparing a five-star meal instead of the simplest comfort food imaginable.
Jina is sitting at the table with her chin resting in her palm, observing the entire situation with the kind of quiet attentiveness that usually means she’s thinking harder than she’s letting on. “You know,” Taehyung says eventually, tilting his head slightly as he watches his friend move around the kitchen like a nervous parent, “most people who get the flu don’t have their boyfriend monitoring their breathing every five minutes.”
Jungkook doesn’t even look up. “She wasn’t breathing weird,” he mutters defensively. “She just…sounded uncomfortable.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You checked twice while she was asleep.” Jungkook finally glances over, his expression both tired and stubborn. “I was making sure she wasn’t getting worse.”
Jina studies him for another moment before speaking, her voice softer but thoughtful. “Did she say anything about a headache or sore throat earlier?” Jungkook pauses slightly, the spoon in his hand hovering above the bowl as he tries to remember. “Not really,” he admits slowly. “Mostly nausea. And dizziness. She said she felt hot earlier but the fever didn’t stay high.”
Taehyung shifts his weight against the counter. “That’s kind of weird for a cold.” Jungkook exhales quietly through his nose, his shoulders tightening just slightly like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the same thought that has been creeping into his mind all afternoon. “People get stomach viruses,” he replies, though his voice lacks conviction.
Jina doesn’t respond immediately. Instead she glances toward the hallway leading to your bedroom, her brows pulling together faintly in that thoughtful way she gets when she’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t quite make sense yet.
Back in the bedroom, the smell from the kitchen grows stronger when someone opens the microwave, and your stomach reacts instantly. You sit up too quickly, your hand flying to your mouth as nausea rolls through you again with uncomfortable persistence. It’s not violent this time, but it’s strong enough to make your eyes water as you push yourself out of bed, your legs wobbling slightly beneath you as you hurry toward the bathroom.
The hallway feels longer than usual, and halfway there the dizziness hits you again- a sudden rush of lightheadedness that forces you to steady yourself against the wall. Your breathing becomes shallow for a moment while the room tilts unpleasantly around you. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself weakly. “That’s new.”
You manage to reach the bathroom just as footsteps approach from the living room, and seconds later Jungkook appears in the doorway, his expression shifting instantly from mild distraction to alarm when he sees you gripping the sink like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.
“Hey - hey, slow down,” he says quickly, crossing the room in two steps as he steadies you with both hands on your arms. His voice softens immediately when he sees the exhaustion in your face. “What happened? Did the nausea come back?” You nod weakly, leaning slightly into him without even thinking about it, your forehead pressing briefly against his shoulder as your stomach twists again.
Jungkook’s entire posture changes the moment you lean on him. One hand slides carefully around your back while the other moves to the base of your neck, his thumb brushing slowly against your skin in a quiet, grounding motion that he knows usually helps you calm down. “It’s okay,” he murmurs gently, the words low and reassuring near your ear. “You’re okay. Just breathe for a second.” The closeness of him, the steady warmth of his body, the calm rhythm of his breathing - it all wraps around you like something safe, something solid in the middle of the strange storm happening inside your body.
Taehyung appears in the doorway a moment later, his usual playful expression replaced with mild concern when he sees the two of you standing there. “Whoa,” he says quietly, raising his hands slightly. “Bathroom emergency?” Jungkook gives him a look that clearly says not helping.
Jina steps past Taehyung a second later, her gaze moving carefully over your face in a way that feels almost clinical despite her gentle expression. “Are you dizzy too?” she asks softly. You nod again, embarrassed by how weak your voice sounds when you answer. “A little.” Jina hums quietly to herself, crossing her arms loosely as she leans against the doorway.
For a moment, the four of you stand there in a strange silence. Then Jina glances slowly toward Jungkook, then back toward you, and something thoughtful flickers behind her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything yet, not out loud.
___
The apartment grows quieter after Taehyung and Jina leave, the kind of quiet that feels heavier than normal silence, like the walls themselves are aware that something important is shifting between the two of you even if neither of you has the words for it yet.
The front door closes softly behind them with a muted click, their voices fading down the hallway of the building until they disappear completely, and suddenly it’s just you and Jungkook again in the dim warmth of the apartment.
You’re sitting on the couch wrapped in two blankets because your body can’t seem to decide whether it’s hot or cold, your head resting weakly against the armrest while Jungkook stands in the kitchen pretending to wash dishes that were already clean fifteen minutes ago.
He keeps glancing toward you every few seconds like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there, still breathing, still okay, and there’s something about that quiet, constant attention that makes your chest ache with a strange mixture of comfort and guilt. Because he looks so worried, and you hate being the reason for that worried crease between his brows.
Your stomach churns again, a slow rolling nausea that has been coming and going all evening, and the smell of dish soap drifting from the sink suddenly feels overwhelming enough to make your throat tighten. You close your eyes for a moment, pressing your palm gently against your abdomen as you breathe carefully through your nose, hoping the wave will pass without sending you running back to the bathroom again.
Jungkook notices the change in your breathing almost immediately, he always does. The moment your shoulders tense slightly beneath the blanket his head turns toward you, his hands abandoning the sink before he even realizes he’s moving. In two quiet steps he’s beside the couch, crouching in front of you with the same soft urgency he’s carried all day, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee through the blanket. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but alert as his dark eyes search your face for signs of distress. “Is it the nausea again?” You nod slowly, your voice tired when you answer. “Yeah…it just keeps coming back.”
Jungkook exhales quietly, running one hand through his hair in a small gesture of frustration that he tries to hide from you but doesn’t quite succeed. “You haven’t eaten anything except crackers,” he says softly, more to himself than to you. “Your body probably needs actual food.” You give him a weak half-smile. “My body currently thinks crackers are the enemy too.”
The corner of his mouth twitches despite his worry, and he reaches forward to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The touch is warm, grounding, the kind that says I’m here without needing to speak the words aloud.
The nausea eventually fades again, leaving behind a deep exhaustion that sinks into your bones like heavy sand. Jungkook notices the way your eyelids droop and shifts closer on the couch, carefully pulling you into his arms so you’re leaning against his chest instead of the armrest.
The movement is slow and deliberate, giving you time to adjust, but once you settle there he wraps the blanket more securely around your shoulders and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. It’s not a dramatic gesture. It’s quiet, familiar, the kind of affection that has grown naturally between the two of you over years of learning each other’s habits and fears and softest vulnerabilities.
“You’re really warm again,” he murmurs against your hair, his hand moving automatically to rest against the back of your neck where your skin is flushed. “But it’s not like a fever…it’s weird.” You hum faintly in response, too tired to argue with his observations anymore. Your fingers curl loosely into the fabric of his shirt as you rest there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. For a few peaceful minutes neither of you speak, the quiet stretching comfortably between you like something shared.
But Jungkook’s mind doesn’t stay quiet for long, because the longer he sits there thinking about the day, the stranger the puzzle pieces start to feel when he tries to put them together. The nausea, the dizziness, the way you reacted to smells. The exhaustion that doesn’t quite match a normal illness. His brows slowly pull together as the thought forms in the back of his mind - unwelcome, confusing, impossible.
He doesn’t say it immediately. Instead he watches you carefully, his thumb tracing slow circles against your arm as if the gentle motion might somehow calm the sudden nervous energy building in his chest. “Can I ask you something?” he says eventually, his voice quieter than before.
You tilt your head slightly against him, blinking sleepily. “Yeah?”
Jungkook hesitates, then he asks the question that has been creeping into his thoughts for the last hour. “When was your last period?”
For a moment, the apartment feels completely still. You stare up at him, your tired brain struggling to process the words. “…what?”
His expression is cautious now, like he’s stepping carefully across thin ice. “I’m just asking,” he says softly. “Because some of your symptoms today are kind of…specific.”
Your stomach flips again - but this time the nausea has nothing to do with sickness. You start to think back, back through the last few weeks. The stress at work, the exhaustion, the way your cycle slipped quietly past without you noticing because everything else in your life has been so overwhelming lately.
Your face slowly drains of color. “…oh my god,” you whisper.
Jungkook’s heart drops into his stomach. “You missed it?” he asks carefully.
Your hands begin to tremble slightly in your lap. “i-i think so.” The words hang in the air between you like something fragile and terrifying at the same time, and neither of you speak for several long seconds.
Then Jungkook exhales slowly, running both hands over his face as his mind races through possibilities he never expected to consider tonight. “Okay,” he says quietly, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts behind it. “Okay. That doesn’t automatically mean anything. Stress can delay things, illness can too.” But even as he says the words, the pieces keep fitting together in ways that make his chest feel tight: the nausea, the smell sensitivity, the sudden exhaustion, the dizziness.
You look up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “should we…test?”
Jungkook swallows hard. “…yeah, yeah…I think we need to.” he says softly.
___
The walk to the pharmacy down the street feels surreal. The cool evening air brushes against your face while Jungkook keeps a steady hand at the small of your back, guiding you carefully like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. Neither of you talk much during the walk, but the silence between you is thick with thoughts that neither of you know how to say out loud yet. You’re both thinking the same thing. We’re not ready. Not with the chaos in your careers, the bills, the tiny apartment, the plans you haven’t even started chasing yet.
Parenthood belongs to some distant future version of yourselves - not the two exhausted people standing under a flickering pharmacy light at nine o’clock at night.
Inside the apartment again, the small white pregnancy test sits on the bathroom counter like the most intimidating object you’ve ever seen. Jungkook stands beside you, his hand wrapped tightly around yours.
“You don’t have to look if you don’t want to,” he murmurs gently.
You shake your head slowly. “No…we should.”
The waiting feels endless, three minutes stretch into something that feels like half a lifetime. Jungkook keeps his arm around your shoulders the entire time, his thumb moving slowly against your arm in silent reassurance while your heart pounds hard enough to make your ears ring.
Then, finally, you both look down.
Two lines. Clear. Undeniable. Pregnant.
For a moment neither of you move, neither of you breathe, your chest tightens suddenly as reality crashes over you all at once, your eyes filling with tears before you even realize you’re crying. “kook,” you whisper shakily, your voice breaking on his name.
Jungkook stares at the test like the world just shifted beneath his feet. Then he looks at you, really looks. At your trembling hands, your tearful eyes, the fear written across your face, and suddenly none of the panic in his chest matters as much as the person standing in front of him.
He pulls you into his arms immediately, holding you tightly against his chest as his hand moves gently through your hair. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “baby, hey…it’s okay.”
Your voice shakes against his shirt. “We’re not ready for this.”
“I know.”
“We barely have our lives together.”
“I know.”
“What are we going to do?”
Jungkook pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands, his forehead resting gently against yours as he searches your eyes with a tenderness so deep it almost hurts to look at. “We’ll figure it out,” he says quietly.
His words aren’t confident or perfect, but they’re honest, and they’re full of love.
Outside the bathroom window the city hums quietly, completely unaware that inside a small apartment two overwhelmed people are standing at the edge of a life neither of them planned for yet. But as Jungkook presses another soft kiss to your forehead and pulls you back into his arms, one thing becomes clear even through the fear and uncertainty.
This was SO sweet and pure 🥹 th way this jungkook is so attentive and caring warmed my heart. This couple clearly loves each other so much!! And Tae cracks me up
Summary: Jungkook has new piercing,one that he’s very excited to put to use except that he may have forgotten to think about the timeframe for the healing process before he got it done. Now it’s his birthday and he can’t participate in his favorite pastime but that doesn’t mean that you can’t have your fun…for now because where anne hathawill, anne hathaway and Jeon Jungkook will find a way to put his mouth on you,piercing pain be damned.
Warnings: idol!jk x poc!singer/songwriter!oc, smut! MDNI!, JK’s labret piercing, oral (f&m.rec),handjob,tit play?, oc! got her titties pierced while they were apart and didn’t tell him, jk is a simp and a munch and will die on the hill of it being his favorite pastime. jk calls her noona but it’s mainly teasing or when he wants to get his way, jk is lowkey a little menace but you love it, kinda dom/sub/switch dynamics but it’s not explicitly mentioned,light mentions of bunnies and mating, kinda domesticated, lots of playful teasing/silliness and banter/dialogue because I like it. As always, I might be missing some stuff.
W.C: 8.4k
You hadn’t seen Jungkook since you came back from the U.S. Your schedule had pulled you into sessions with your boss and longtime friend Christian and even when you got back to Korea you hadn’t been able to see him but you were determined to.It was his birthday in a few minutes and you refused to let your schedule keep you from him.
When you entered the house, it was quiet except for the soft hum of a lofi sound filtering through from one of the upper floors. You take the elevator up to where you assume he is, his head popping up as he hears the ding.
Before you can even open your mouth or step fully into view you catch his eyes and the subtle look he gives to his iPad in front of him before he casually pulls out his phone prompting you to take yours out as well.
Munch 🐰
On live, they’ll see you if you step in further
He texts referring to the mirrored reflection behind and to the side.
Simp 🐺
🥺 fine I guess birthday kisses and wishes can wait until after.
Came straight from the studio so I’m gonna go shower 😘
You send the text and look up at him only for a glint of what looks like a new piercing to hit your eyes. You point to the spot on your face and the little shit has the audacity to smirk at you.
No fucking way did he get a labret piercing and didn’t tell you.You mouth a silent oh my god at him, your hand still hovering near your own chin as you give him the most incredulous look. Jungkook’s smirk deepens, teeth sinking into his lip just enough to make you want to strangle him or kiss him senseless. Probably both.
His eyes flick back to his iPad, voice light and sweet for the fans as if he hadn’t just sucker-punched you with a brand-new piece of metal through his face. “Yeah, I’ve been working on some demos…just messing around with sounds lately since I got back.”
You roll your eyes so hard it hurts, typing furiously on your phone.
Simp 🐺
So you just weren’t gonna tell me? Like at all??
His phone buzzes on the couch beside him, and without missing a beat in his live, he glances at the screen. A low chuckle slips out before he reaches for it.
Munch 🐰
Wanted to surprise you. Guess it worked 😏
Your jaw drops. The audacity. The absolute nerve. You type back instantly, thumbs flying.
Simp 🐺
Surprise?? Jungkook, it’s your BIRTHDAY not mine. Why am I the one getting attacked??
He reads it, lips twitching, and then looks up—right at you—before covering it with a stretch, hiding his grin behind his arm. To anyone watching, he just looks like he’s adjusting in his seat but you know, oh, you know. When you turn to leave, determined not to give him the satisfaction of watching you melt, your phone buzzes again.
Munch 🐰
Don’t shower too fast. I want my present after 👀
You stop in your tracks at the doorway, whipping your head back to glare at him. His eyes are still glued to his screen, pretending to scroll, but the smirk tugging at his mouth is unmistakable. You send one last text before disappearing down the hall.
Simp 🐺
Careful, birthday boy. You might not survive it.
You turn his live on while you’re in the shower, amused by the fact that almost 11million people are up watching your boyfriend at this hour. Your mind returns to his piercing that seems very fresh, it hadn’t been there when you watched his last live not even two days ago so it was definitely fresh.
You chuckle wondering if your boyfriend had even realized the hell he had just unintentionally put himself in. You had your fair share of piercings so you knew for a fact that that specific one despite not having it would take at least two months to heal which subsequently meant Jungkook’s munch tendencies would be limited.
By the time you finish your shower and pad back into the living room, oversized shirt clinging to your shoulders, Jungkook’s still on live and from what you see on your phone screen he’s moved to the bar/movie room and you weren’t in the mood to go down there. There wouldn’t be anywhere for you to remain out of frame and you like the quiet world your relationship exists in at the moment. You pad back to his bedroom and get comfortable in his bed and switch to Coupang eats when he starts grumbling about being hungry.
He couldn’t have anything crunchy or spicy so you settle for something that won’t irritate the piercing or his gum when you hear him mention cleaning up and it not long after that that he ends the live. It takes a few more minutes before you hear him coming down the hall humming to himself until he spots you all soft and comfortable in his bed and his tshirt.
The moment Jungkook sees you sprawled across his bed in his shirt, curls fanned out on his pillow, he stops dead in the doorway. He leans against the frame, arms folded, piercing catching the low light of his bedroom as he smirks. “You really out here making yourself at home, huh?”
You don’t even look up from your phone, scrolling through Coupang Eats. “It’s not my fault your bed’s more comfortable than mine. Don’t act brand new.”
He chuckles, low and warm, padding closer until he’s towering over the bed. “My girl, stealing my shirts, hijacking my bed…” He clicks his tongue, feigning disapproval. “What’s mine is really yours, huh?”
You finally glance up at him, eyes narrowing on the glint in his lip. “Don’t try to distract me. You got a labret piercing and didn’t tell me?”
Jungkook grins, biting his lip to better show the jewelry. “Surprise.”
“Surprise, my ass,” you mutter, setting your phone aside. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?”
He tilts his head, pretending to be confused. “Got hotter overnight?”
“You basically just put yourself on a munch ban for two months.”
The smirk slips right off his face. “Wait. What?”
You fold your arms, savoring the moment. “Healing time, birthday boy. You can’t have anything pulling or irritating the area. Which means no spicy food, no rough kissing, and definitely no—” you wave your hand vaguely toward your lap, “—munching.”
His jaw drops, scandalized. “Noona, you’re lying.”
You give him a pitying little shrug. “Google it if you don’t believe me.”
He immediately grabs his phone from his pocket, typing furiously. A beat later, his shoulders slump. “Two to three months?!” He looks back at you, betrayed. “Baby, that’s my thing!”
You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “You really didn’t think this through at all, did you?”
He groans, flopping dramatically onto the bed beside you, face buried in your stomach. His voice comes out muffled. “Worst. Birthday. Ever.”
You card your fingers through his hair, still grinning. “You’ll live. Besides, I’m sure we can find other ways to celebrate.”
He peeks up at you with wide, puppy eyes, his new piercing glinting under the lamp. “…Like what?”
You lean down, brushing your lips over his; gentle, careful. “Guess you’ll just have to survive long enough to find out.”
He groans again, rolling onto his back like the world’s most dramatic man. “I should’ve gotten another tattoo instead.”
You snort, settling into his side. “You probably would’ve run out of skin eventually anyway.”
“Not before I run out of ideas,” he mutters, already pulling you into his chest, sulking but clingy and despite his whining, you can feel his smile pressing into your hair.
“Just because you can’t munch doesn’t mean I can’t have my fun.” You tease him.
You feel him freeze next to you and mumble something you don’t quite catch.
“What was that?”
His head dips lower, hair falling into his face as if it might hide him from you. His voice is quieter this time, rougher, like he’s embarrassed to even say it again.
“I said…it’s torture.”
You blink, caught between laughing and shoving him off the bed. “Torture?”
His eyes flick up at you, wide and unguarded, before narrowing with the faintest pout. “Yeah. You’re over here looking like that—” his hand waves vaguely at your oversized shirt, your damp hair, your bare legs tucked under the blanket— “and I can’t do anything. Not properly.”
The grin creeps across your face before you can stop it. “Oh, so you admit it. Munch privileges revoked.”
“Yah,” he groans, throwing himself back dramatically against the pillows, one arm slung over his eyes. “This is the worst birthday ever.”
You snort, climbing over him until you’re straddling his hips, the blanket pooling around you both. His arm slips from his face, his gaze locking onto you instantly, dark and sharp despite the playful pout still tugging at his mouth.
“Don’t worry, birthday boy,” you murmur, leaning close enough for your breath to brush his lips, “I’ll make sure you forget all about the torture part.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, fingers already finding your hips like he can’t help himself. “You better,” he whispers, and this time you’re the one smirking.
His grip on your hips tightens just enough to let you feel the heat of it, but not enough to hold you down. You’re still in charge—he lets you be, especially on nights like this.
“I can’t believe 11 million people saw this before me.” you tease, brushing your nose against his.“Shouldn’t I have girlfriend privileges?”
His laugh is low, breathy, more nerves than humor. “Baby…” His voice dips into that dangerous whine you know too well. “Don’t tease me.”
“Oh, but it’s your birthday,” you murmur, rocking your hips just slightly against him, enough to make his jaw clench. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a plea, his head tipping back against the pillows. “God, you’re evil.”
“Evil?” you echo, feigning innocence as you let your lips trail along his throat, slow and deliberate, stopping just below his ear. “I thought you liked me like this?”
His fingers flex against your skin like he’s trying so hard not to flip the whole script on you. “More than I care to admit,” he admits, voice breaking just a little. “Doesn’t mean you’re not evil.
You laugh softly, biting his earlobe just enough to make him jerk. “Best of both worlds, huh?”
“Best,” he says without hesitation, breathless and wrecked already; and you haven’t even given him his gift yet. His eyes snap back to yours, dark and glassy, like he’s trying to memorize the way you look right now—smug, dangerous, so completely in control of him it’s unfair. His chest rises fast under you, every exhale brushing warm against your lips when you lean close again.
“You really want your gift?” you ask, voice a teasing whisper, even though you already know the answer.
“Yes.” It’s desperate, immediate, and so unlike his usual composure that it makes your smirk widen.
“Then be patient,” you murmur, dragging your nails lightly down his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the shiver that ripples through him. “Good boys wait.”
He groans, throwing his head back, but his hips twitch up against yours anyway betraying him.
“Not fair,” he mutters, half whine, half growl.
You tilt your head, lips brushing just barely over his jawline. “Since when has fair ever been part of the deal?”
His hands finally tighten properly on your hips, like he’s two seconds from losing the restraint he’s been clinging to. His voice drops, ragged and low.
“Love, if this is how you’re giving me my birthday present, I don’t think I’m gonna survive it.”
The wicked grin that spreads across your face tells him he’s right and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Just to tease him a bit more you get off of him and make your way over to your bag and pull out the jewelry box that had been hidden inside before making your way back to him.
Jungkook didn’t wear much jewelry regularly apart from his piercings but he’d worn that necklace you’d gotten him three birthdays ago until it got stolen or lost, you can’t really remember but you do remember him being all pouty about it so you had gotten him an upgrade this year with a bracelet to match.
He whines when you take too long to come back to him. You pause just a second longer than necessary, enjoying the way his eyes follow every move you make, his pout growing more dramatic the closer you get to the bed.
“Patience, Jungkookie,” you hum, dangling the small box just out of his reach as you climb back onto the mattress.
He shifts, trying to grab for it, and you pull it away with a sly grin. “Nuh-uh. Gifts are for good boys.”
His cheeks flush, and you can see the way he clenches his jaw, equal parts turned on and frustrated. “You’re cruel,” he mutters, voice pitched low but threaded with a whine.
“You’ll live,” you tease, finally flicking open the box to reveal the sleek necklace and bracelet gleaming against the velvet. His breath actually catches, the irritation melting instantly into wide-eyed surprise.
“Baby…” His voice cracks, soft and reverent now as he looks up at you instead of the jewelry. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” you interrupt, settling between his legs again, holding the bracelet out toward him. “Now, do I get to put it on you or are you still being bratty?”
That earns you a small laugh, sheepish and warm, and he finally holds out his wrist, eyes shining. And just as you lean in to clasp it, he grumbles under his breath, barely audible—
“Still evil though.”
You glance up at him through your lashes, lips twitching. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he says too quickly, biting the inside of his cheek like he can swallow the words back down but the faint pink staining his ears gives him away.
“Oh, no, no,” you murmur, fastening the bracelet snugly around his wrist. “I heard you.” You hold his hand up, admiring how the metal gleams against his skin. “Evil and thoughtful. You really do have the best of both worlds.”
He ducks his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. His thumb brushes lightly over the chain, and you catch the way his chest tightens like he’s fighting not to get emotional.
“Looks good on you,” you say softly, your teasing tone mellowing just for a moment. “Better than I even pictured.”
His gaze lifts, warm and intent, all traces of his earlier pout fading into something that makes your stomach flip. “You know I’m never taking this off, right?”
You grin, leaning in close until your nose brushes his. “Good. That was the point.”
And just when he’s about to kiss you—when you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves—you pull back with a mischievous smirk. “Now, about that necklace…”
His groan is instant and theatrical, head falling back against the pillows. “Noona, you’re actually trying to kill me.”
“Not kill,” you correct, fingers toying with the chain. “Just…ruin a little.”
You slip the chain from the box, holding it just above his collarbones, watching the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “And no mouth kissing, remember?” you remind him sweetly, tone light but edged with mischief.
He groans, covering his face with one hand like he regrets ever agreeing to your rule for the night. “You’re killing me.”
You laugh softly, brushing his hair back as you clasp the necklace behind his neck, letting your fingers linger against his skin. “Relax, Kookie. I never said anything about other kinds of kissing.”
That makes him peek at you through his fingers, eyes going dark with both suspicion and anticipation. “You’re dangerous.”
“You love it,” you say with a grin, leaning down just enough to press a slow, deliberate kiss to the hollow of his throat. “We’ve established this already.”
His breath hitches so sharply you feel it against your lips, his hand dropping from his face to clutch at your waist like he needs something to anchor him. The little pulse beneath your mouth stutters, and the sound he makes—half groan, half plea—shoots straight through you.
“Fuck, baby…” His voice is rough now, shaky, and it only eggs you on.
You drag your lips lazily across his skin, leaving featherlight kisses up the column of his throat, pausing at the spot just under his jaw where you know he’s sensitive. You don’t bite, don’t mark—just let your mouth linger, warm and slow, until he’s trembling under you.
When you finally pull back to look at him, his pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling like he’s been running. The new necklace glints at his collarbone, framed perfectly by the trail of your affection.
“See?” you whisper, smirking as you smooth your thumb over his jaw. “Rules can be fun if you let me play with them a little.”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s gathering himself, then opens them again—glassier now, hungrier. “You’re not gonna let me survive the night, are you?”
You laugh, leaning in to brush your lips just shy of his ear. “Depends…are you gonna be a good boy for me?”
“When aren’t I?”
You raise an eyebrow at him before telling him to get comfortable while you shuffle down between his legs.
His smirk lingers as he leans back against the pillows, arms spread out like he’s trying to play it cool but the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast gives him away. His eyes track you the whole time, sharp and dark, but there’s a flicker of nervous excitement in them that makes your lips twitch.
“You talk big, Kookie,” you murmur, settling between his thighs, hands gliding up the insides just to watch him shiver. “Guess I’ll see if you can back it up.”
He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and tips his head back against the headboard. “You’re gonna kill me tonight,” he says, but there’s a tremor in his voice that betrays just how much he’s looking forward to it.
Your eyebrow arches again, playful. “That a complaint?”
His gaze snaps back to you, intense now, no hesitation. “Never.”
Your palms smooth along his thighs, deliberate and slow, until your nails dig just enough to make his muscles twitch under your touch. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, head falling back, throat bared for you like he knows exactly what game you’re playing.
“Comfortable?” you ask, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
He huffs out a laugh that dissolves into a groan when you press a kiss just above his waistband. “You know I’m not,” he rasps, hips jerking despite himself.
“Good,” you murmur against his skin, hands curling around his thighs to hold him steady as your mouth trails lower, teasing, never giving him enough. His fingers twitch against the sheets, then ball into fists when you deliberately skip over where he wants you most.
“Please,” he finally breathes out, broken and needy, the word torn from him like it costs him everything to say it.
You lift your head just enough to meet his eyes, wide and dark and desperate. A wicked smile curves your lips as you ask, “Please what, birthday boy?”
The way his jaw works, like he’s fighting pride and surrender at the same time, has your pulse racing.
Jungkook couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that you told him to “get comfortable.” Because he wasn’t. At all. His back sank into the pillows, hands flexing uselessly at his sides as you slid down between his legs, and every muscle in his body felt strung too tight.
His chest rose and fell too fast. The new chain sat cool against his collarbones, a sharp contrast to the heat crawling down his skin where your mouth had just been. He swore he could feel the press of your lips there even now, taunting him, making him want more.
When your fingers brushed along the waistband of his sweats, his hips jumped before he could stop them. “Noona…” he groaned, hating how desperate it sounded, hating how badly he wanted to beg when he’d promised himself he wouldn’t.
The truth was, you had him undone already. No kissing on the mouth, that stupid rule was unraveling him worse than anything else, because it meant he couldn’t ground himself in you. He had to take everything you gave, every kiss lower than his lips, every brush of your hand, and it left him aching, twitching under your control.
And then you tugged his sweats down just enough, and Jungkook swore his vision blurred. His cock slapped up against his stomach, heavy, flushed, and so hard it hurt.
“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging a hand over his face. He could feel his own pulse in it, leaking already, shameless. And you hadn’t even touched him yet.
When you finally leaned down, your breath ghosting over the tip, his whole body jerked. “Baby, please—” The plea broke out before he could choke it back, raw and unguarded. His fingers fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, every nerve screaming for relief.
And when your lips wrapped around him—slow, deliberate, like you had all the time in the world—Jungkook’s head fell back against the pillows with a strangled cry.
God, he thought, she’s really going to kill me tonight.
The first drag of your mouth down his cock nearly stole the breath from his lungs. Heat, wet, suction—he’d had it a thousand times, but never like this, never when he wasn’t allowed to kiss you back, wasn’t allowed to ground himself in your mouth in the way he craved most.
“F-fuck,” he stuttered, hips twitching up before he forced them down again, digging his heels into the mattress so he wouldn’t lose it too fast. He needed to last. He needed you to take your time, even if it killed him.
Your tongue curled around the head, flicking at the slit, lapping up the precum spilling freely now. Every touch made his cock throb violently, his stomach tightening like a knot being pulled tighter and tighter. When you slid down farther, hollowing your cheeks, he groaned so loud he swore his neighbors must’ve heard.
His hand shot down, instinctive, tangling in your hair but he didn’t push. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was because he respected your pace or because he was terrified he’d shove too hard, spill down your throat too fast, and ruin it before you decided he deserved to come.
“Shit,baby,” he rasped, head lolling back against the pillow. His chest heaved, sweat beading at his temples. You were taking him so deep, his tip brushing the back of your throat, and the gag of it made his cock twitch violently. He was seconds from losing it. “I-I can’t—”
But then you pulled back with a slick pop, smirking up at him with his cock glistening, spit shining along your chin.
He thought he might actually cry.
“You’re…you’re evil,” he panted, voice breaking. His thighs were trembling, his cock leaking all over his abs now, untouched for the moment and aching so bad it almost hurt.
When your hand wrapped around the base and started stroking slow, twisting, pumping him while your mouth sank back down over the head—Jungkook’s vision went white at the edges. His toes curled, his abs clenched, his whole body bowed up off the bed.
“Noona, please,” he begged shamelessly now, any last shred of control ripped away. “Please, let me—fuckkkk, let me come. Please.”
The steady twist of your wrist paired with the wet slide of your mouth was too much,his body was wound so tight it felt like every nerve ending was wired to your tongue. Jungkook’s moans had gone ragged, each one higher, sharper, closer to a cry. His thighs shook uncontrollably, muscles straining as if he could hold back the inevitable, but his body betrayed him.
“F-fuck! oh my god, noona—” His head thrashed against the pillow, black hair sticking to his forehead, chest slick with sweat. His cock throbbed violently in your hand, every vein rigid, his balls drawn tight. He could feel it coming, deep in his spine, rushing forward like a wave too powerful to fight.
“Gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come…please,” he gasped, hips jerking despite himself, driving deeper into your throat. The sight of you taking it, the sound of you gagging just slightly and humming around him, it broke him.
With a hoarse, choked cry, he came. Hot, thick ropes of cum spilled down your throat, his entire body arching up as though he could disappear inside you. His stomach clenched, muscles spasming with every pulse of release, cock twitching helplessly as you swallowed around him.
It went on and on—longer than he thought he could even last—until he collapsed back against the bed, chest heaving, body boneless. His hand was still tangled in your hair, trembling as he stroked weakly through it, pulling you gently off him when the oversensitivity made him flinch.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked, almost broken. His throat was raw from moaning, from begging. He looked down at you with glassy eyes, lips parted, completely undone.
And when you licked your lips, his cum shining on them, then leaned up to kiss his jaw—carefully avoiding his mouth, still obeying the rule—he thought he might die on the spot.
“You’re…insane,” he breathed, smiling weakly, dazed. “And perfect. God, baby…I don’t even have words.”
“I do and they’re you’re not done yet.” You whisper in his ear.
His whole body stiffens at your words, the heat of your breath against his ear sending another shiver racing down his spine. He’s still trembling from the orgasm, muscles weak, but the second your whisper lands, his cock twitches against his stomach, already starting to stir back to life.
Jungkook turns his head, eyes blown wide and dark, disbelieving and needy all at once. “Noona…” His voice cracks, half-plea, half-worship, like he’s not sure if he’s begging you to stop or to ruin him even more.
You nip at the shell of his ear, slow and deliberate. “Birthday boy doesn’t get to tap out after one.”
His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air. “You’re—fuck, you’re serious?”
You smile against his skin, your hand sliding down his stomach, deliberately brushing the base of his cock that’s already starting to harden again. His hips jerk helplessly.
“Dead serious,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “And this time…no hands on me. You just lie there and take it.”
The broken sound that leaves him is pure desperation, his head falling back into the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me,” he gasps, though the way his body arches into your touch betrays how badly he wants it.
You don’t move right away after whispering in his ear. Instead, you let the words hang there, your breath hot against his skin. His chest rises and falls rapidly, still trying to calm from the first round, and you relish the way he’s already trembling under you.
“Not done yet,” you murmur again, dragging your mouth along the line of his jaw, careful to keep away from his lips. Your tongue flicks against his earlobe before you bite down gently. He shivers.
“Baby…” It’s half a whine, half a plea. His hands twitch at your sides like he wants to grab, wants to pull you down, but he doesn’t—not after last time—not when he knows better now.
You smirk and slide lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his chest, pausing to suck lightly on one nipple until he groans, then moving to the other, fingers dancing across the taut muscles of his stomach. Every brush of your mouth is too light to satisfy him, and the way his abs clench beneath you makes you slow down even more.
When you finally settle between his thighs, he’s already half-hard again, sensitive and aching. You drag your nails gently up the inside of his leg, stopping just shy of where he wants you. His hips buck involuntarily, but you press his thighs down with your palms, keeping him pinned.
“Patience, Jungkookie,” you hum, echoing your earlier tease.
He curses under his breath, head thrown back against the pillow, one arm covering his eyes like he can’t stand to watch you torture him this way.
You wrap one hand loosely around him, not moving yet, just holding, letting him throb against your palm. Then you lean down, tongue darting out to tease the underside of his length, a single stripe from base to tip. He gasps, thighs trembling, but when you pull back again without taking more, he growls in frustration.
“Cruel,” he mutters, echoing himself from earlier, voice ragged.
“You’ll live,” you purr, before taking him slowly into your mouth.
The sound he makes is wrecked, desperate. His fingers clutch at the sheets as you sink down inch by inch, stopping to hollow your cheeks, to swirl your tongue around the tip, to pull back almost entirely before sliding down again. You don’t give him rhythm—just waves of sensation, unpredictable, dragging him higher only to ease off and start again.
By the time you let him hit the back of your throat, he’s shaking, sweat dampening his hair, moaning without shame. “Fuck…baby, please—”
You pull off with a wet pop, stroking him lazily while you lick your lips, eyes locked on his. “What’s that? Please what?”
His voice cracks when he answers. “Please let me…let me come.”
You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Not yet.”
He actually whimpers, biting down on his fist. You laugh softly, leaning forward to kiss just above his navel before swallowing him down again, faster this time, deeper, until his thighs are trembling and his hand flies to your hair before jerking back like he remembers he’s not allowed.
Only when he’s right on the edge again, toes curling, voice breaking around your name, do you finally let him go, your hand working him in fast, tight strokes while you keep your mouth on him, sucking him through until he unravels hard, spilling with a broken cry.
You don’t pull away until he’s twitching, oversensitive and whining, his hips trying weakly to get away from your mouth. When you finally let up, you kiss his thigh sweetly, looking up at him with a satisfied smile.
“You lasted,” you tease, voice low. “Good boy.”
His chest is heaving, face flushed, eyes dazed and shining as he stares at you like you’ve just undone him completely. “You’re evil,” he pants, but the way his lips curl into a lazy grin gives him away.
“And you,” you murmur, climbing back up his body to settle against him, “love it.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to bask in the aftermath of wrecking him. The second you settle against his chest, smug and satisfied, Jungkook rolls, flipping your positions so you’re on your back beneath him, breath catching at the sudden shift.
“Think you’re the only one who can drag things out?” he smirks, voice still hoarse but thick with determination. His mouth dips to your throat before you can answer, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin there. He lingers at your collarbone, sucking just enough to leave you tingling, before dragging his lips lower.
You know his piercing means he has to be careful, that he can’t risk irritation with too much direct mouth-to-mouth, but Jungkook makes up for it by kissing everywhere else—your jaw, your throat, your shoulders, the tops of your breasts. Each press of his lips is careful but searing, like he’s staking a claim on every inch of skin.
When his hands slip under your shirt and push it up, his mouth follows the reveal, inch by inch, until the fabric bunches beneath your arms. Then he freezes.
The soft intake of breath tells you he’s just noticed—the glint of metal where your nipples are pierced, barbells catching the low light. His eyes darken instantly, pupils blown wide as he stares like he’s never wanted anything more.
“You didn’t tell me about these,” he murmurs, voice low and reverent. His thumb brushes across one barbell, sending a sharp jolt of sensation through you. You shiver, biting back a moan.
“Surprise,” you whisper, teasing, but your voice is already shaky.
His grin is wicked. “Surprise indeed and given that they look all nice and healed, you been hiding them for awhile.”
Before you can retort, his mouth is on you—hot, wet, careful but relentless. He doesn’t suck hard at first, mindful of the piercings, but he drags his tongue slowly around one nipple, deliberately catching the barbell just enough to make you gasp. Then he does the same to the other, alternating back and forth until you’re writhing under him, hands clutching his hair.
Every graze of his teeth, every flick of his tongue around the metal, sends sparks through you—sharper, more intense than you expected, amplified by the piercings you’d almost forgotten to warn him about.
“Fuck, Jungkook—”
“That’s it,” he murmurs against your skin, voice muffled but smug. “Let me hear it.”
And when he finally closes his lips around one nipple and sucks properly, the pressure tugging against the piercing, your back arches off the bed, a broken cry spilling out before you can stop it. He hums in approval, the vibration making it worse—better—until you’re clawing at his shoulders, begging without words.
When he pulls back, lips slick and eyes blazing, he looks like he could devour you whole. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says simply, before ducking back down to claim the other breast with equal intensity, determined to make you fall apart the way you just did to him.
He drags his hand down your stomach, slow enough to make you whimper, before slipping into your waistband. He doesn’t rush—fingers teasing along the edges, grazing you just enough to make your hips lift off the bed in frustration.
“You want it?” he asks, hovering cruelly close.
“Yes. fuck, yes, please,” you pant.
That’s all he needs. His fingers slide through your wetness, parting you, circling your clit with maddening precision. His mouth returns to your chest, tongue flicking and teeth grazing carefully around the metal as his hand works between your thighs. The double assault is devastating,every nerve lit, every drag of his fingers sending you higher.
He slips one finger inside, then two, curling them just right, his palm grinding against your clit in steady rhythm. Your cries fill the room, back arching, legs trembling.
“Look at you,” he murmurs against your skin, relentless. “So fucking gorgeous when you break for me.”
You’re gone, chasing the edge with every stroke, every graze of his teeth and tongue against your piercings. When he finally presses harder, faster, curling his fingers deep inside, your orgasm slams into you—sharp, consuming, leaving you clawing at him and sobbing his name.
But Jungkook doesn’t stop. He draws it out, fingers still working, pace unyielding even as you shudder and beg for mercy. “Not done yet,” he whispers, voice rough and intent. “I’m gonna take you again…and again…until you can’t think of anything but me.”
His fingers finally slow, sliding out of you with a wet sound that makes your cheeks burn, but he doesn’t give you time to recover. He licks them clean—slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring you—before hooking his hands under your thighs and dragging you down the bed until your hips are flush with his.
“Round two,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel and honey all at once. “And this time I set the pace.”
You barely manage a nod before he’s tugging your shorts down and off, tossing them aside. He pushes your legs open, wide enough that the stretch burns, then settles between them with his cock hard and heavy against your slick entrance. He doesn’t thrust in right away—he grinds slow, deliberate, smearing himself through your folds, letting the head of his cock nudge against your clit until you’re trembling.
“Jungkook—please,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
He smirks, leaning down to kiss you deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he finally pushes forward. The stretch steals your breath, hot and overwhelming, and you feel every inch as he sinks into you with a groan that vibrates in your chest.
“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “Tight,so fucking tight even after all the times I’ve been here.”
He gives you a second to adjust, chest pressed to yours brushing your nipple as he shifts. Then he pulls back slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in hard enough to make the headboard crack against the wall. You cry out, body arching into him, and he sets a rhythm—slow, punishing thrusts that drag out every nerve-ending scream of pleasure.
“You think you can handle me dragging it out?” His words are broken by his own groans, hips snapping into you harder. “You’re gonna take every second of this, baby. Every. Fucking. Inch.”
He braces one hand beside your head, the other sliding down to hook under your knee and press it up, opening you even wider. The new angle makes you choke on a moan as he hits deeper, relentless, each thrust grazing that spot that makes your vision blur.
Your nails rake down his back, your body caught between begging for mercy and begging for more. Jungkook doesn’t let up—his mouth is everywhere,sucking your neck, dragging his tongue across your piercings again, biting your shoulder when you clench too hard around him.
“Look at you,” he pants, eyes locked on yours as sweat drips down his temple. “Already falling apart, and we’re not even close to done.”
The pressure builds fast, unbearable, your body tightening around him. You’re babbling his name, incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as he pistons into you harder, faster, his grunts turning ragged.
And when you finally break, the orgasm rips through you violent and sharp, your body convulsing beneath him. Jungkook doesn’t stop—he fucks you through it, dragging out every spasm, every desperate cry, until you’re shaking, clawing at him like you’ll fall apart without him holding you together.
Only then does he finally let himself go, thrusting deep one last time as he groans your name, his release spilling hot inside you. He stays there, buried deep, chest heaving against yours, sweat-slick skin sticking together as if he can’t bear to pull away.
When he finally lifts his head, his grin is wicked, satisfied. “Round two,” he says, voice wrecked. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then your lips, still lingering. “And we’re still not done.”
You don’t get to say or do anything before his phone rings. He groans loudly before reaching over to the bedside table to grab it before he answers. Your fingers rake through his hair while he talks before he hangs up and looks at you.
“You ordered food?”
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.” You laugh lightly.“You kept grumbling about being hungry while you were live and then you came in here and distracted me.”
Jungkook tosses his phone back on the nightstand with a groan, then drops his forehead against your chest. “You’re lucky I’m starving or I’d keep you pinned here until morning.”
You laugh, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “Please, you’d pass out before I did.”
He lifts his head just enough to give you that incredulous look, like you’ve just challenged him to the most important competition of his life. “You wanna test that theory later?”
The ring of the doorbell cuts through the room, sharp and intrusive. Jungkook groans like it’s a personal attack, reluctantly pulling out of you and grabbing a pair of sweats from the floor.
“Don’t move,” he mutters, pointing at you like you’re a flight risk, though his grin ruins the stern act.
You tug the blanket over yourself, giggling as you watch him pad barefoot out the bedroom door, hair damp with sweat, skin still flushed. The delivery guy doesn’t even blink—just hands him the bags and bows before disappearing down the hall. Jungkook shuts the door with his hip, muttering, “Saved by food. You’re lucky.”
He sets everything on the coffee table, then comes back to drag you out of bed despite your protests. “Come on. Movie. Food. Then…” His smirk is wicked, but his hands are gentle as he wraps you in his tshirt before steering you out of the bedroom to the couch where he was live just an hour ago.
The two of you settle in, legs tangled together, cartons of food spread out in front of you. He insists on feeding you the first bite, holding the chopsticks to your lips with that boyish grin that always makes your chest ache. You feed him back, and the banter is easy—complaints about how hungry you are, him teasing that you moaned louder for him than you ever would for food.
A movie plays in the background, neither of you paying it much attention except for the occasional comment. His arm rests around your shoulders, thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin, and between bites he presses soft kisses against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. It’s quiet, warm, the kind of intimacy that doesn’t demand anything but presence.
By the time the food is gone, your stomach is full but your heart feels fuller. Jungkook shifts down on the couch, head pillowed in your lap as he watches the screen with heavy-lidded eyes. His hand rests over your thigh, fingers twitching like he can’t not touch you.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” you tease, running your fingers through his damp hair.
His lips curl into a sleepy smile. “Too late. You’re stuck with me like this.” And for a while, you are; just the two of you, the remnants of food on the table, the low hum of the movie filling the space.
Jungkook’s lashes flutter once, twice, before his breathing steadies, the weight of his head warm and heavy against your thigh. You pause, fingers tangled in his hair, and just watch him. The curve of his nose, the soft part of his mouth, the way his chest rises and falls. He looks younger like this, vulnerable in a way you don’t often get to see. The world knows him as untouchable, magnetic, but here he’s just your boy—sweat-damp hair and a faint soy sauce stain on the corner of his lip.
You brush it away with your thumb, and he makes a little noise in his sleep, lips parting just slightly. Your heart squeezes at the sound. You think, not for the first time, that you could live in this moment forever; just him, heavy and warm, trusting you enough to let his guard down completely.
But then his hand twitches against your thigh, fingers flexing higher, until his thumb brushes the hem of the shirt he made you wear. His lashes lift, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re no longer hazy with sleep. They’re sharp, dark, mischievous.
“Were you watching me sleep?” he murmurs, voice low and raspy, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe,” you admit, tugging lightly at his hair. “You looked cute.”
He hums, a sound that sends a shiver straight through you. “Cute, huh?” He shifts suddenly, rolling so he’s half on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch cushions. “Guess I should fix that.”
The movie continues to play, forgotten, as his mouth drags lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, down the neckline of his own shirt you’re drowning in. His grin is wicked against your skin. “Round three,” he whispers, already working his way lower.
Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, light and teasing. “You really behave like a bunny, y’know.”
Jungkook pauses just long enough to lift his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. His smirk deepens, slow and dangerous. “A bunny, huh?” He noses at your jaw, voice muffled and low. “Cute on the outside…but you’ve seen how rabbits really are.”
The way he says it makes your stomach flip, a promise disguised as a joke. His teeth graze your throat, playful but edging on hungry, and the warmth of his hands slides higher beneath the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt.
“Jungkook,” your voice catches when his thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts, teasing at the piercings like he can’t resist.
He hums like he’s heard exactly what he wanted, the sound reverberating through your chest. “You shouldn’t have said that, noona. Now I’ve got an excuse.”
The movie hums on in the background, forgotten. Your fingers curl in his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin just enough to sting. He chuckles against you, wicked satisfaction laced in the sound.
“You started it,” he murmurs, lips brushing your collarbone. “Now you’ve gotta take responsibility.”
His hand drags slowly down your stomach, deliberate, until his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt and pins your hips with his free hand, smirk lazy and sharp.
“You’re mine for the rest of the night,” he says simply, voice hoarse but steady. “And I’m not letting you sleep until I’ve proven it.”
“Round three,” he whispers against your lips, thrusts deep and deliberate, “and you’re still gonna beg me for more.”
you believe him.
Jungkook’s mouth is everywhere, slow but insistent, as if he’s determined to taste every inch of you under the dim flicker of the forgotten movie. His teeth graze the swell of your breast, his tongue circling your piercing just enough to make your toes curl. You’re already slick again, the ache between your thighs building with every drag of his mouth, every careful press of his fingers.
“Still calling me a bunny?” he asks against your skin, voice low and dangerous. His hand slips lower, sliding between your legs, fingers finding you already wet. He groans softly, almost reverent. “Fuck…look at you. So ready. I don’t even need to prep you, do I?”
You shake your head, biting your lip. “No…just—just fuck me, Kook.”
That’s all the permission he needs. He hooks your thighs over his shoulders, dragging you down the couch until your hips are at the edge, legs spread wide. You gasp as he presses the thick head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that never go all the way in.
“Beg for it,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “If I’m a bunny, then you’re my mate and mates beg.”
Your face burns, but the need outweighs your pride. “Please,baby. Please fuck me.”
His answering groan is guttural, torn from deep in his chest. He pushes in slow, inch by inch, stretching you until you’re gasping, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush with yours, his jaw clenched tight as he fights for control.
“God,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “So fucking perfect. Every time.”
He starts to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot, deep enough that you swear you can feel him in your throat. It’s not the punishing pace from before. This is different,intimate. He wants you to feel every inch, every stroke, every second of being filled by him.
Your nails rake down his back, your moans spilling free as he rolls his hips, grinding against your clit with every thrust. He kisses you—soft, careful not to brush your mouth too much because of his piercing, but he makes up for it with kisses everywhere else. Your neck. Your jaw. The shell of your ear. Each one grounding you even as he fucks you higher and higher.
“Look at you,” he pants, voice breaking as your walls tighten around him. “Taking me so good. Fuck, you’re mine.”
“Yours,” you gasp, arching into him, legs trembling where they rest on his shoulders. “Always yours.”
That’s all it takes. His rhythm sharpens, hips snapping harder, faster, chasing both your release and his. The wet slap of skin fills the room, mixing with your cries and his groans, the movie long forgotten.
Your orgasm slams into you like a wave, stealing your breath as your whole body seizes around him. You cry out his name, vision blurring, nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Jungkook fucks you through it, relentless, until he’s shaking above you, spilling hot and deep inside as he groans your name like a prayer.
For a long moment, neither of you move. He stays buried in you, chest pressed tight to yours, his sweat-slick skin sticking to you like he never wants to let go. His breathing evens out slowly, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh.
When he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his grin is soft, boyish, so different from the wrecked intensity of just a moment ago. “Round three,” he whispers, kissing your temple gently. “But I think…” He trails off with a chuckle. “I’ve got at least one more in me.”
You laugh weakly, pushing at his chest. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he admits, settling against you again, his cock still heavy and warm inside you. “But I’m yours though so you’re stuck with me.”
And in that moment, with his heartbeat thudding against yours and the quiet hum of the TV filling the room, you wouldn’t want it any other way.
I have binged all 3 chapters of this series this weekend and it’s SO GOOD!! I love this couple so much! Their history feels so realistic and their relationship feels lived in in the sweetest way. This JK is so hot and endearing
Yuuus give us ur fave bts writer/fic recommendations!! Or any other fandoms pls 🤲
well hello !! im sorry this took so long, i've not checked my inbox at all recently bc i've felt extremely lazy (im going through some shit atm but on the mend oof)
i've only recently started rereading bts fics after a longgggg time but here are some writers that have stood out to me:
@missenu (pls go read in the frame like yesterday !! it's a masterpiece)
@sparklingchim
@dreamersparacosm
@voyter
@inthelow
@jenyluv
@words-in-purple
@lovieku
@leahsfavefics
@peoniesnro
@gukcnt
@spideyjimin
@seokbite
@soft4gguk
these are a few off the top of my head, though i know there are many many more talented writers that my pea brain is forgetting rn :)
BLURB WARNINGS oh god where do i start uhhh girl dad!jungkook, jungkook has a kink for your titties, breastfeeding, breast milk, nipple play, unprotected sex, jungkook calls you mama so light mommy kink, breeding kink, jungkook is a whiny little shit, idk basically he wants to try your breast milk lol
ANG’S NOTE i have no words for this except i'm sorry. this lowkey might be the dirtiest thing i've ever written bc why is he drinking her breast milk... chile anyways. whiny jungkook got me acting up. hope this holds y'all over while i continue to edit 'one more night.' (coming soon i swear!!!!)
Breastfeeding is easier than you expected. Not that you were envisioning a shitshow where your breasts grew to the size of milk jugs, but you had heard horror stories from your “Mommy and Me” Reddit group. Something about babies biting their mother’s nipple, their milk expiring, or other tidbits you don’t like to think about. Luckily, your daughter, Jiwon, latched onto your nipple immediately after birth, and even the nurses clapped in excitement as to how eager she was. You were so proud of your little bug, even though she was acting upon natural human instincts.
As the months passed by, she never gave you any issues. She happily took her milk, and when you sat her down just to sit with her, she would play with your boobs like they were her own personal toys. You found it endearing, but your husband…well, Jungkook was a little jealous.
It all began when you were hanging out with Namjoon and his wife, and Jiwon was seated on your lap, giggling while playing with your breasts. Namjoon had made a joke at the expense of your daughter, something about how she was more obsessed with your tits than her dad and Jungkook grumbled in response “I guess.”
To which you then slapped his shoulder because he couldn’t possibly be annoyed with his angel of a daughter.
Jungkook has always loved your breasts. Gives them extra love when he’s fucking into you, flicking your nipples to ensure they’re hardened. He even made you cum once just from nipple stimulation, which is one of his greatest feats. So Jeon Jiwon stealing your tits from him was blasphemous. Utterly unheard of. He couldn’t let that slide.
Thus began the Great Tit War. Some would argue scarier than the thought of World War 3.
“Good job, Jiwonnie.” You kiss your daughters forehead as she happily latches onto your nipple, doe eyes twinkling with delight. Rocking back and forth in the feeding chair set up in her room, you caress the sprouts of hair curling from her head. She’s only just begun to grow hair, and you can’t wait until it gets long enough to put into cute little bows. “You’re so perfect, my bug.”
You watch as she sucks and sucks, wiping droplets off her puffy cheek as she feeds.
A knock at the door causes your head to instinctively swing up, a hesitant little rap against the doorframe, and you look up from Jiwon’s face to find Jungkook hovering in the entryway. Sometimes he lingers in the entrance, unsure if he’s allowed in.
“Come in, Koo,” you giggle, keeping your rocking steady. He shuffles in slowly, sock feet quiet against the nursery rug, hands tucked into the front pocket of his trusty black hoodie. His hair is still messy from his headset. There’s probably a game paused downstairs, controller resting against the couch cushion, waiting for him. When his eyes drift to Jiwon, his entire body relaxes, a glow on his cheeks.
Her eyes are fighting the sleep as she continues to suck. She gets sleepy once she’s full, so it’s only a matter of time. Her tiny fist is curled against your breast, and a little bubble forms at the corner of her mouth that you wipe off with a smile. Jungkook crouches down to chair level, forearms on his knees, and looks at her the way he always does. Jungkook was always meant to be a girl dad, you presume. When they had pulled her from your vagina and he got to hold her for the first time, there was no denying the twinkle in his eyes, the undying admiration lingering in the air for her.
Jiwon’s eyes flutter open. Find him immediately, some homing instinct tuned specifically to her father’s frequency. Her whole face does the thing where it scrunches in delight. The gummy almost-smile that isn’t quite a smile yet but is.
She reaches out, fingers splayed, grasping at air in his direction. Jungkook offers her his index finger without hesitation, and she latches onto it with your nipple still tucked between her pink lips. He lets out a quiet breath through his nose.
Jungkook loves her in a way that frightens him sometimes. You’ve watched him hold her at 3 AM when she won’t settle, swaying in the dark with his cheek pressed to the top of her head, whispering things you can’t hear from the doorway.
You never interrupt those moments. They belong to the two of them.
Finding alone time since Jiwon arrived has been its own comedy of errors. She wakes at odd hours with no pattern you’ve been able to crack, usually just as you’ve finally gotten comfortable. It’s always you she summons first and you’ll stumble down the hall half-asleep while Jungkook makes grabby hands at the warm space you left behind. But on the nights she wants him, she makes that known too. He’ll be up before you can even register it, padding down the hall, saying I got her, go back to sleep in a voice still rough with exhaustion.
Intimacy after children is something you schedule around a nine-pound tyrant who controls your life and whom you would die for without hesitation.
Jungkook tears his gaze from Jiwon and looks at you. “When will you be done here?”
You giggle at the implication of the question. “Soon, Koo.” Adjusting Jiwon slightly, you brush her cheek with your thumb. Her eyes are drooping again, fighting a losing battle. “I want to make sure she sleeps through the night.”
He hums. Looks back at Jiwon, then his eyes lower to land at your breast.
The urge to roll your eyes is almost too hard to resist. Yours and Jungkook’s sex life has definitely slowed down (but not enough to say you’re celibate by any means), but ever since Namjoon made that irreversible comment about your tits, Jungkook has made it extra known that he values your chest just as much as your infant daughter. He once motorboated you during sex. Another time, he left hickies littered on your tits, and poor Jiwon had to see them.
Jiwon unlatches with a tiny pop, milk-drunk and boneless, eyes fully closed now, her whole body gone heavy in your arms. You shift her carefully onto your shoulder, one hand supporting her head, and begin the gentle rhythmic pat on her back.
Jungkook’s eyes drop down yet again. You didn’t even have time to cover yourself.
The look on his face speaks volumes. You have catalogued that look across years of being with this man. He wore it constantly when you were pregnant, borderline feral about the way your body was changing, specifically about your chest, specifically all the time, to a degree that was flattering for the first month and then became its own part-time job to manage.
They’re so much bigger, he had said. They’re sore and hurt like hell, you had replied.
And then he proceeded to suck your nipples, toying with them while he was balls deep inside you at a pace that had you cumming in under five minutes.
“Jungkook.” Your voice is stern. It bounces off him completely.
“What?” he innocently asks.
“I see you.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re making a face at me,” you argue.
He scoffs, “I don’t have a face.”
Jiwon burps, and you sigh in relief. Kissing her temple, you smile. “Good girl.”
Jungkook tears his gaze up to your face with visible effort. “I’ll wait for you in bed.”
“I’ll come in twenty.”
“Come now,” he whines, slumping his shoulders.
“Jungkook, I have a baby on my shoulder.”
“I can see that.” His eyes flicker to Jiwon and her relaxed expression, practically snoring from where she’s perched on your body.
“Then you understand why now is not an option.”
He slumps back against the nursery wall in utter distress. He is a man with tattoos and a streaming setup worth more than most people’s cars, and here he is pouting in a room decorated with little pastel clouds.
Jiwon has finally settled after another few minutes of rocking and watching her face for the telltale stillness that means she’s properly under and not pretending. You’ve been fooled before. You’ve made the mistake of putting her down too early and you refuse to repeat it.
“Okay,” you whisper, tucking Jiwon against the mattress, pulling the little cloud-print blanket up. You and Jungkook stand over the crib for a moment in the dim glow of the nightlight, watching her sleep. Her little lips are pursed. A tiny wrinkle between her brows, like even in dreams she has things to say.
She gets that from him.
On the way out, Jungkook takes your hand. In the hallway, the door eased shut behind you, you readjust your nursing bra and pull your shirt down. Jungkook watches and you don’t miss the way his eye twitches. .
Padding toward your bedroom, you joke, “Most husbands just say ‘hey you look tired, let me give you a back rub.”
He perks up. “I can give you a back rub.”
You snort. “Jeon, that is not what your face was saying in there.”
He follows you into the room, and you hardly have time to turn around before his warmth envelops you, hands finding your waist, chin dropping to look at you.“I missed you,” he says.
“You see me every second of the day, baby.”
He digs his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent. “But I feel like it’s been a few hours.”
You laugh, letting him walk you back toward the bed. “Well, I was being a mother to your baby.”
“I think I’m nutritionally deprived of my wife.” His voice comes out muffled against your skin.
“You are not—”
“I want your titties.”
You halt in your tracks. Slowly, you remove his hands from around your waist, turning to glare at him. “…I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
Oh. So he is serious and not manic.
“I need you to say it again so I can confirm I didn’t hallucinate,” you deadpan.
“I want—”
“Jungkook oh my god.” You press your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking. Honestly, you don’t even want to hear the words again. “Where is this coming from?”
“It’s not coming from anywhere.” He sits on the edge of the bed, manspreading. “I’m just saying. Jiwon gets them everyday.”
Your jaw falls agape. “Jiwon is a baby. Our baby, actually.”
“And I’m your husband.”
“Those are not equivalent positions!” You throw your hands up in exasperation.
“I’m not saying they’re equivalent. I’m just saying. I’ve been very patient and waited my turn.” This hardly qualifies as him waiting his turn. He has the instinct of a newborn child.
To be honest, you’re not entirely opposed to the idea of Jungkook fucking you. It’s been a few days since you’ve been able to have alone time, and the clock is ticking as you speak. “Go brush your teeth,” you say.
“After.”
“After what?”
He levels you with a look.
“Go brush your teeth, Jeon Jungkook,” you chastise as though he’s a toddler.
He groans and drags himself off the bed like you’ve asked him to do the impossible. You watch him disappear into the bathroom and take the opportunity to change into your sleep shirt, a worn one with the stretched collar, and get under the covers and close your eyes. A quick prayer for a full eight hours even though you know that’s not happening.
The tap water runs for about four seconds before promptly being shut off.
You exhale. “You did not brush your teeth that quick.”
“I actually did.” He appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He’s taken his hoodie off, buff, tatted arms on display to where you remember oh, right, you’re attracted to this person, which is inconvenient given the current circumstances.
“Don’t you dare come over here and kiss me with stank breath.”
He crosses to the bed and climbs in next to you, gravitating toward your side the way, arm hooking around your waist. You feel his nose against your hair. This part you’ve missed all day, you think. This specific configuration of the two of you.
Then his hand starts to wander.
“Jeon Jungkook.”
“I’m just—”
“I know what you’re just.”
He subsides, shuffling under the duvet until you hear his voice again. “Can I ask you something?”
Oh no. “…Sure.”
“Hypothetically.”
Oh no oh no. “Okay.”
“If I were to—” He stops, choosing his words. It’s more alarming than if he’d just said it. Jungkook unfiltered you can manage. But he knows what he’s about to unleash on you is unhinged and is trying to land it anyway. “If I were to ask for something. And it was maybe a little unconventional…”
You nod for him to proceed.
Jungkook clears his throat. “If your husband, who loves you very much, who is a very good husband by most metrics—”
“What metrics?”
“—who fixed the leak under the sink last week without being asked—”
“You watched a YouTube tutorial, failed, then called Namjoon.”
“I still fixed it,” he says with dignity. “If that husband were to make a small, reasonable request—”
You sit up and peer at him. His hair is all pushed to one side, a small crease on his cheek from the pillow.
“How is it,” you say, “that you’re whining more than our newborn daughter?”
“I’m not whining.”
“Jungkook, you have so far made a seven sentence case for why you deserve something and you haven’t even told me what it is yet,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.
He sits up too. And then, because he is who he is, he pulls the duvet off him, and gets on his knees on the mattress. “Hear me out.”
You’re not hearing anyone out. You think about the version of yourself from ten years ago, pre-Jungkook, and whether she could have predicted this specific moment. She could not have. No one could have.
“Jiwon,” he begins gravely, “gets to have your boobs every night.”
“She’s breastfeeding.”
“Every night,” he continues over you. “Multiple times. She just takes them.”
“Because she’s an infant,” you incredulously retort.
“And I,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest, “have been very respectful. I have kept my feelings largely to myself and I just think that after everything I’ve given to this family, I just think I deserve to, at minimum, also..”
He wavers, gulping thickly. The rejection is already boiling on your tongue.
“…try some.”
Suddenly, the room is eerily quiet. Somewhere down the hall, Jiwon makes a small sleep sound and the white noise machine hums.
“People do it. Apparently, it’s normal and nutritious. It has antibodies,” he argues, bouncing on his knees.
“You’re invoking antibodies right now.”
Grabbing a pillow and pressing it over your face, you scream into it. Your adult husband wants to be breastfed, and frankly, you might find it hot if you weren’t being used as a cow by your daughter everyday.
You lower the pillow, and to your dismay, he’s peering at you expectantly, weaponizing those same doe eyes Jiwon utilizes against you.
“So… is that a yes?”
“That is not a yes.”
He whimpers, lowering his head.
You sigh. “Koo—”
“Just think about it.”
“I have thought about it. I thought about it for the three seconds it took you to finish the sentence and my answer is no.”
“Whyyyyy?” he whines again. You wish you could film the whole thing to show his friends. They might bully him enough to leave Jiwon fatherless.
You got a first-class ticket on the Jeon Jungkook experience and this is where it’s taken you. “What if I asked nicely?” he tries.
“Is there an even nicer way you plan on asking?”
“What if I said please””
“Jungkook—”
“Please.”
“No.”
He lets out a loud groan, and you grab the pillow back to smack him in the arm. “You are going to wake Jiwon,” you hiss.
Jungkook climbs back under the covers and you turn the lamp down lower. In the dim room, he curls toward you, head propped on one hand, despite your body language indicating bedtime.
“I’m not changing my mind,” you preemptively tell him.
“Okay,” he retorts in a tone that means he disagrees.
He reaches out and moves a piece of hair from your face. After, his thumb traces your cheekbone.
“Go to sleep,” you say. Your body can’t help but melt under his touch.
“I’m not tired,” he murmurs.
“Then lie there quietly.”
He flops onto his back like a starfish and lets out a groan directed at the ceiling. Jungkook shifts around for a few moments, trying to find comfort.
The fundamental problem is that when his hand finds your waist under the blanket, butterflies erupt in your stomach like it’s the first time you’ve felt him.
In a weird way, you understand what he means when he says he misses you. Although you try to make time for sex, it feels like there’s a divide between you and him. Not one that’s high enough to keep you two apart, but it’s noticeable. It’s there, and you both struggle to climb over it when your newborn is so needy. It’s another thing you read about in your Mommy and Me Reddit group.
“We’ve barely had time for anything since she came,” you admit.
“I know.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m not trying to pressure you. I just… really, really miss your boobs.”
And there goes your empathy.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, laughing despite everything.
“I’m serious.”
You press your face into his shoulder, laughing quietly, and feel him grin against your hair. “You are so much, you know that? You are so much.”
“But you love me, right, baby?”
“Inexplicably.”
He squeezes you, and for a moment you just lie there together, his chin on top of your head, the white noise machine humming. You never thought you would end up like this with your top tipper on your OnlyFans. Maybe it was always meant to be you and Jungkook.
And then his hand is moving. It’s the lightest drift of fingers at the hem of your sleep shirt.
“Jungkook,” you warn.
“I’m just touching you.”
“I know what just touching leads to with you.”
It led to Jeon Jiwon.
“Maybe I’ve changed.” His fingers trace along your side, and you would tell him to stop except it feels like the first time anyone has touched you like a person today rather than a feeding apparatus. “Maybe I’m a different man.”
Jungkook nudges the hem of your shirt up, palm flat against your stomach. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs. Pregnancy and after had changed you in ways you were still making peace with, but Jungkook had been annoyingly consistent about this. There’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t remind you just how ethereal you are.
His hand drifts higher and your breath catches in your throat. “Koo—”
He mouths at your jaw. “You can tell me to stop.” His lips drag down to your neck, pressing wet, warm kisses to your skin.
Fuck.
The last time you two had sex was rushed. A quickie in the morning during one of Jiwon’s naps, and you and he had cum in under three minutes. The steady pace sends your brain spinning.
His hand finds the fabric of your nursing bra and he pauses. Even through the material you feel the warmth of him.
“Boobs still sore?” he whispers against your ear.
“Not tonight.”
You hear what might be a quiet inhale. His fingers trace the edge of the fabric. He’s obviously operating on the theory that if he moves slow enough you won’t notice the direction of travel.
A smile curves against your skin while his thumb traces a slow circle, and through the fabric, it draws an unbidden moan out of you. He lifts his head to look at you. His brown hair is a disaster, somehow looking younger than his years with how red his cheeks are. Quietly, without ceremony, he slides the strap of your nursing bra to the side.
The air is cool before his hand is there to warm you up, and he watches your face as he fully unbuckles your nursing bra, letting it fall to the carpeted floor. “Missed you,” he says again.
“You’re still not getting—” you start, and then his thumb brushes your nipple and you exhale sharply, fingers curling into the sheets. Immediately, your nipples harden under his touch, and he flicks them again, watching as they puff up.
“Still no?” he murmurs.
He rolls it gently between his fingers and your hips shift of their own accord. “You’re cheating,” you manage to say through a moan.
“I’m not doing anything.” His voice is rough as he’s entranced by how full your breasts look without the nursing bra. Jungkook’s mouth finds your shoulder, collarbone, traveling with intent while his hand continues its campaign and you feel the familiar tightening sensation that means—
Oh shit.
He pulls back, looks down and you already know from his expression, from the way his lips part, from the soft reverent oh that escapes him.
A tiny pearl of milk wells up from your nipple.
“Jungkook,” you whimper, and your voice has lost most of its authority.
“Can I?” He looks up at you and he’s not whining now, all the theatrics gone. Your hand intuitively finds the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair.
“You’d better not wake Jiwon,” you say.
He lifts his head and smiles at you before ducking his head down. When you moan quietly into the dark of the room, you press your palm to the back of his head and hold him there. Jungkook’s tongue gently laps at the milk drop, smacking his lips as he tastes it. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans. “Keeping our baby girl fed.”
You giggle. “Really, Koo? You like it?”
He massages your breasts again until a few more drops trickle out, and he laps those up eagerly too. “So fucking good, baby. It tastes so sweet.” The massage sends arousal to your cunt, your underwear beginning to soak. His tattooed hands are so big and veiny around your breasts, and the sight alone is enough to cause your body to shiver.
Jungkook leans down, sucking on your nipple while massaging the other. He peers up at you like he wants to devour you. Your face contorts into a series of expressions, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Jungkook ruts against the mattress, trying to relieve the pressure that’s grown in his sweatpants. “Mmm,” you sweetly moan. “Koo, i-it feels so nice.”
“Yeah, mama?” His voice is huskier with desire, eyes now a shade of onyx you hardly recognize. And you have trouble concentrating from how good his lips feel around your nipple, tongue flicking the hardened peak back and forth, so full of that feeling you only get with him. “Your tits are perfect, baby.”
You whimper, legs trembling from the overstimulation. “Koo, I-I want you inside me.”
He lets go of your nipple with a pop, his free hand traveling down to rub over his boxers. Jungkook continues to stimulate your breasts while singlehandedly kicking off his sweats and boxers. It’s quick, your head spinning in rapid circles as though you just got off a merry-go-round. He pushes the comforters off your bodies, letting it fall somewhere to the floor. Pushing your sleep shirt up to your neck, he gets a full good view at your underwear that’s soaked through the mattress. “You’re so fucking wet for me, mama. You like when I play with your tits, don’t you? Trying to deny me these perfect things when you know it’s what you want.”
He chastely presses his lips to yours, fingers wandering down to slip your thin panties to the side. He gathers your slick on his pointer fingers, taking it to your mouth for you to suck. “Open up,” he taps against your lips, and you follow like a lost puppy, sucking your arousal off as he watches. “Taste so sweet, angel. You always do.”
Hurriedly, his hand comes to wrap around his cock, which you’ve now realized is angry, precum seeping from the tip. His veins are engorged, doused in purple. His head lolls back for a moment before he rubs his mushroom tip over your entrance, causing you both to groan in unison. “Shit, Koo.”
“This pussy was made for me, hm, mama? No one else gets to have you like me,” he groans as he presses his cock to your clit in a way that makes your vision hazy. “So fucking perfect.”
You want to answer yes, it’s all yours, always will be, but you can’t, because he starts pushing inside you at an excruciatingly slow pace, to the point where you can feel every inch stretching you open. Jungkook’s hand falls beside your head, bracing himself, your face scrunching up in pleasure. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he whimpers. “God, you always feel so good, so nice and warm.”
The slide feels almost endless, despite the fact you’ve had sex at least a million times. It always feels new, somehow feels like he’s grown to double his size. Jungkook bottoms out, pelvic bone pressed to your clit, and you choke on your moans, mouth open in silent pleasure. “Ah, shit,” he groans, flicking your nipple. “It’s so tight, baby. You’re dripping onto my cock.”
His hand pushes your leg higher up on his waist, and the angle makes you sob into the air. He pulls all the way out, slowly, tentatively, watching the creamy arousal build up on his cock, before pushing back in at a more steady pace. It makes you crazy, thinking that you’ve made him like this, that he’s riding that edge because your breasts produce milk, and you can’t help but hook an ankle over his thigh and tug him forward, forcing him to move. “Please, Koo, keep going.”
Jungkook speeds up, fingers digging into your plush thigh as he draws in and out, your cunt squelching with each movement. The bed creaks, practically scraping across the floor as he goes faster, rougher, desperately trying to finish inside you like he always does. “Fuck… sweetheart, how are you so fucking wet?”
Jungkook leans down again to suck your nipple, tonguing at the pebbled peak. You can feel the milk dribbling onto his tastebuds, and he moans so beautifully that for a mere second, you don’t care if there’s none left for your daughter. You run your hands through his messy hair, moaning, “Right there, fuck, baby.”
His other hand comes down to thumb at your puffy, swollen clit, and your back arches off the mattress. Your eyes meet his, an animalistic urge glinting in his eyes. His lips move from your nipple to your neck, undoubtedly leaving marks that all your Mommy and Me friends will see (and be jealous of). “Shit, shit, baby, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he whines into your hot skin.
“I-it’s okay,” you exhale, eyes nearly rolling back into your head from the stimulation of his cock hitting your sweet spot. “I want you to cum inside me. Get me pregnant again.”
And you don’t even really know what you’re saying, because you just gave birth no more than six months ago, but your hormones are going crazy and your nipples are leaking milk without preamble. He groans, kissing you but barely slotting your mouths together from quickly he’s thrusting. The headboard slams against the wall, and god—please let Jiwon sleep through this. “Gonna let me cum inside this tight pussy? Give you another pretty baby? God, you’re the most perfect mama, baby. I—fuck—I love you.”
It’s been pretty clear from the moment he slid into your wet heat that neither of you would last very long.
Your nails dig crimson marks down his broad back, eyes squeezed tight, tight, tight as you feel the coil in your stomach unclench, arousal coating his cock and leaking onto the sheets below. He feels your walls tighten around him, milking his cock. “S-shit, don’t do that, baby, ‘m gonna cum,” he moans.
Your mouth rips open, uneven breaths falling from your lips as your orgasm crashes into you like a tsunami, washing over your entire being. You shudder underneath him, fingernails digging crescent moons into his golden skin. “P-please, Koo, I want your baby, please fill me up.”
And that undoes him. His cock twitches inside you, his seed spilling into your cunt. Warmth envelops you as he paints your walls. Your brain is buzzing, toes curling, Jungkook saying into your ear, “Fuck, I’m gonna give you another baby, hm? Gonna get you nice and round with my seed, mama.”
Nodding, you moan again, unable to control your volume any longer. He cums for what feels like forever until finally, he’s pulling out, a string of your arousal chasing his cock. Jungkook falls onto the mattress beside you, breathing heavily, eyes closed. His hair is stuck to his forehead, and the poor man looks utterly pussy drunk, kind of like how your daughter looks when she gets milk-drunk. You giggle, nestling yourself into his side.
With his eyes shut tight, he smiles, wrapping his arm around your body to bring you even closer. His heartbeat thumps erratically in his chest. “Baby, Jiwon is having a fucking Michelin star meal with your milk. That shit’s incredible.”
You slap his chest, gawking. “Jeon Jungkook. Don’t you dare deplete my milk.”
“Just saying. She’s living the dream.” He pushes his hair off his forehead, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Think we got time before she wakes up for me to tittyfuck you?”
Well…
You’re not opposed.
Looking up at him, you bat your eyelashes. “How do you want me, baby?”
His eyes light up like a kid’s at a carnival. But before he can move into position, before he can get his hands again on your plump breasts, the sound of Jiwon crying comes through the sleep monitor. Loud and clear, a wail that signals she wants her mommy, and she wants her now.
“God damnit.” Jungkook groans, falling back onto his pillow.
Laughing to yourself, you shake your head and pull down your sleep shirt. You press a kiss to his cheek before heading down the hallway to where your sweet baby girl is.
Ughh this was SO cute and hot at the same time! I love this couple and how JK is such a whiny yearner in this fic lol the dialogue feels so natural and you can tell how comfortable they are with each other. 10/10
Rating/genre: m (18+), fluff, smut, established relationship
Word Count: 3786
Posting Date: April 24. 2026
Summary: Your boyfriend becomes obsessed with figuring out how to make you squirt. This is definitely porn with very little plot lol
NSFW Warnings: Showering together, Oral (F), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, hand job, squirting
Author Note: this is borderline a crack fic and is so stupid but the idea made me laugh and I just finished a chapter in my original novel WIP so I had to write it! I didn't do much editing so if you find a typo or anything just message me so I can correct it!
1:
“So I was thinking…” Taehyung trails off, glancing up at you through those stupidly long, pretty eyelashes of his and tendrils of black hair hanging just past his eyes. Absentmindedly, he churns the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks.
Your chewing slows, suddenly suspicious. A swallow, and then “About what?”
“Have you ever squirted?”
God damn him for asking that question right when you had taken a drink of water. You choke, water going down the wrong pipe immediately while somehow also shooting out of your nose.
“Oh my God, y/n, are you okay?” Dropping his utensils at once, he rounds the table to rub your back as you cough and regain your breath.
“What” you wheeze. “The fuck?”
“I’m curious! Sorry,” he raises his hands in mock surrender as he resumes his seat across the small table from you. “You haven’t with me, but we’ve only had sex a few times. So I was wondering. You come right? With me?”
“Yes,” you laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “I came every time, you know that. I’m not a faker. But to answer your question, no I have never squirted. Not everyone can, right? I don’t think I can.”
Taehyung is silent, eyeing you carefully as he slurps up another mouthful of ramen. You wilt under his dark gaze, averting your eyes back to your own bowl of ramen. When he does finally speak, it’s merely a “Huh.”
“What does that mean?” You ask, head snapping back up to meet him.
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s true. I think you can, you just haven’t yet.”
“Tae, I know my body. I’ve come plenty of times in my life. Sometimes pretty hard. If I could do it, it would have happened by now.”
A sly smile takes over his face. “Maybe. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”
“You can try all you want. I don’t think it’s happening.” Standing, you gather the now empty bowls and bring them to the sink, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. You feel as your boyfriend comes up behind you. He brushes your hair to one side before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. This relationship is fairly new, you’ve only been seeing each other a few months, but he has always set your skin aflame with his touch. It takes everything in you remain upright, to fight the urge in your knees to buckle.
“Can we try right now?”
Giggling, you lace your fingers in his and pull him towards your bedroom. You came, many times, but despite his dedication, you did not squirt.
2:
Busy schedules keep you apart for a few days until you finally find a lunch break gap you can both take, so you meet at the park for a walk. Clasping hands, you’re enjoying the feel of the sun on your face after the long dark of winter when Tae speaks.
“I’ve been doing some research.”
“About what?”
“Well, apparently about 40% of women have squirted.”
“Tae!” You gasp, looking around the park to make sure there are no tender ears around to hear. “Quiet, we’re in public.”
“Babe, no one is close enough and if someone is eavesdropping that’s their own problem. It’s not like we’re at a playground.”
“Okay, well,” you lower your voice, wanting to make sure you could not possibly be heard by anyone other than Taehyung. “Doesn’t that sort of prove what I said the other day? I just can’t squirt.”
“No! Are you kidding? Think about it, y/n. Whatever that sample size was, it’s obviously not all women, it’s not like every single woman took that quiz, or whatever. And I’m sure there are women that have squirted that are ‘unreported’ so to speak. Also, think about how many women are just living their lives unfulfilled sexually. I mean, let’s be real here, a lot of men don’t even give a fuck if the woman their sleeping with enjoys it at all, let alone comes. And from my understanding, you have to be pretty turned on and come pretty hard to squirt. I would bet you a lot of money that most, if not all, of those women could squirt, they just haven’t because they’re having sex with losers.”
You think back to former relationships. Taehyung was definitely the first man you’d been with that had been so dedicated to making sure you enjoyed yourself. With your first boyfriend, you were so in your head about being ‘sexy’ or good at what you were doing you never even came. Sex felt good, sure, but a lot of the time you were ‘thinking’ too much for it to be anything more than that. With Taehyung, his reassurance, his technique, it wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. He made sure you came, once at minimum, every single time, concerned about how much you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else you’d ever been with. To hear he is so occupied with making you squirt was concerning.
“Tae, you know it’s good for me when we have sex, right? Just because I don’t squirt doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It’s amazing every time.”
“I know you enjoy yourself, baby. It’s just that I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum capability.”
You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication. Just don’t take it personally when it doesn’t happen.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It will. I’d try now but we both have to get back to work. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
3:
You’re relaxing on your couch, enjoying lowkey night in with nothing but snacks and tv, when the ringing of your phone interrupts your show. Pausing the show, you grab your phone to see Taehyung’s name on the caller ID.
“Hey,” you say as you answer.
“Hey. Can I come over?”
You pull the phone away from your head to check the time. It’s only 7pm, but you usually planned date nights in advance. “Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just want to see you.”
You can’t fight the smile that curls your lips. “You’re supposed to see me in two days.”
“Don’t want to wait. Alright I’ll see you in twenty.”
“See you soon, babe.” You hang up and toss your phone to the other side of the couch, becoming immediately engrossed in the television once again. After what feels like no time at all, you hear Tae’s signature knock on the door. Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you cross the room to let him in. As soon as you open the door he folds you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips that starts chaste and slowly becomes languid and sensual.
Dazed, you pull back. “What was that for?”
He smiles down at you, a glint in his eyes. “I watched a tutorial on squirting. I want to try it.”
You throw your head back and grown. “Oh my God, Tae, this again? Why are you so obsessed?”
“I told you, I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum ability.”
“Tae,” you say, pulling the blanket tighter around you. You hadn’t considered it before, but you’re starting to wonder if maybe his previous girlfriends were able to squirt, and it’s something he considers lacking in you. “Is it.. bad for you that I don’t squirt? Have you made your previous partners squirt?”
He blanches, mouth dropping open in shock and brows creasing. “I-what? No, babe. Baby, no it’s not bad for me that you don’t. What I’ve done with other partners has no relevance to me and you, but yes I have made others squirt in the past. But I’ve also been with people that haven’t, neither is better or worse when it comes to how it is for me or how it feels. What I am so focused on here is making you feel good, figuring out the science behind it.”
“What science? Isn’t it just pee?”
“No! It’s an entirely different chemical compound.”
“Good lord. So I’m like your science project?”
“Don’t be silly. You’re not my science project. Your pussy is.”
You throw your head back, cackling as Taehyung bends down to lift you up, tossing you over his shoulder and stalking to the bedroom.
4:
Weeks have flown by, and still Taehyung remains fixated on his quest to get you to squirt. You can’t complain, the weeks have been filled with mind-blowing sex. He has tried with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, making you come over and over until you tremble, physically unable to take any more stimulation. But never once has your pussy turned into the fountain he so desires.
“Alright, I think I know where I have been going wrong,” he says, laying on the couch with his head resting on the pillow of your chest.
“Where?” you ask, no idea what he’s even talking about. Taehyung is like that though, his mind always wandering from one thing to the next, keeping you on edge. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.
“I think I need to edge you more.”
“What? Why?”
“When? Who? Are you going through all the ‘W’ questions?”
“Shut up,” you cackle.
“For real though, you have to be super turned on to squirt. As you get more aroused, your urethral sponge enlarges and hardens and then your Skene’s glands fill up with cum and then with pressure and massage you’ll squirt. I’ve been too eager; you’re coming too fast.”
“Okay Bill Nye. Is this your version of dirty talk? Because ‘Skene’s glands’ is not sexy.”
“It can be sexy! C’mon baby, let me massage your urethral sponge.”
“Oh my God.” You can hardly breathe through your laughing as he buries his face in your chest. “I’m on the rag, I can’t tonight.”
“You know I won’t let that stop me. We should put a towel down anyway for when you squirt.”
“I know it won’t stop you but it’s stopping me tonight. I don’t feel sexy. I feel bloated and gassy and gross.”
He huffs. “Fine, that’s fair. Next time.”
“As long as you don’t say ‘urethral sponge’ again.”
5:
The stars must be aligning in your boyfriend’s favor, because the next time you see him you’re ovulating, meaning just being next to him turns you on. Smelling his signature scent, a magnetic mix of cedar and musk, has your lower belly swirling in anticipation. You’re at his place this time. After spending the day at the beach together, you walked hand in hand back to his place and hopped in the shower to rinse off. For once, he’s said nothing about getting you to squirt. Didn’t even make any comments when you suggested you shower off together. He just hopped in with you, lathering you up with soap and running his hands over your body as if it was nothing. If you hadn’t witnessed his dick getting hard with your own eyes, you would have thought he was entirely unaffected. You kept waiting for him to make a move, the slickness between your legs increasing with every touch of his skin against yours, but he turned the water off and stepped out without a word about it.
“Dry off and meet me in my room,” he says, handing you a towel and pressing a kiss to your lips that was entirely too innocent for your liking before leaving the bathroom. What game was he playing at here?
With a sigh you dry off and pull on the sweatpants and baggy t-shirt you had brought from home. It was one of his shirts he had left at your apartment. Strategically, you never washed it so the smell of him lingered. Given how already aroused you are, it probably isn’t the best idea to physically wear his scent, but what else are you supposed to do? It was getting to the point where you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable.
Taehyung is lounging against the headboard when you enter his bedroom, shirtless and with a pair of tented boxers slung low on his hips. You bite back a smile seeing the effect the shower had on him, knowing it isn’t just you.
“Why are you dressed?” he asks, brow furrowed.
“Didn’t you say to?”
“I said dry off. Take your clothes off. I want to give you a massage.”
“Why?” you ask, pulling his t-shirt over your head like he asked.
“I just do. It was a long walk back from the beach, and you just had your period and that makes you sore sometimes, right? I want to help you relax.”
“You can help me relax in other ways,” you suggest, climbing into the bed once you’re naked.
“Hmm, maybe later. Lay down.” He pats the bed beside him and you huff, trying to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your cunt as you lay on your stomach.
“What is that?” you ask as something warm and wet hits your back.
“Warming oil. I’m giving you a massage, like I said.”
Closing your eyes, you sink into the feeling as his hands spread the oil over your back. Rubbing it in, he keeps his touch gentle as he massages your muscles. He spends extra time on your lower back, the area that that is most stiff and sore when you’re menstruating, and his thumbs ease the muscles before dipping lower. His touch remains innocent, for the most part, even as he massages the length of your legs before returning to your glutes. He spreads your cheeks, his thumbs slipping between your legs and grazing the exterior of your pussy as he massages. You can’t help the groan that slips from your lips at his touch, but he continues as if he didn’t hear anything. With each pass of his hands, his thumbs get closer and closer, until they graze your clit on each pass. He grunts as one thumb slips inside on accident due to how slick and slippery you are.
“Turn around.” The words come out hoarse, his voice deep with barely restrained arousal.
You do as he asks, rolling until you’re laying on your back as he kneels beside you. You eye his dick, ramrod straight, red and leaking at the end, and lick your lips. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, catching your gaze, but he doesn’t stop as you reach for him, grasping his length in your hand and slowly pumping, spreading his pre-cum and using it as lubricant.
“Naughty girl,” he hisses, breath hitching as you squeeze him. His hands return to your body, slick from the oil, massaging your legs and moving up, up, until he reaches your breasts. Leaning down, he takes a nipple in his mouth, teasing with his teeth before suckling at the raised peak of your breast. Coming off that breast with a pop, he moves to the other as his hand reaches between your legs. He trails his fingers lightly along your thigh until they reach the apex, then ducking between your folds as he groans. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“I’ve been wet since the goddamn beach.”
“I know,” he growls, releasing your other nipple from his mouth to speak.
“Then why haven’t you done anything about it.” The words sound whiny even to your own ears as you buck your hips into his hand, squeezing his cock as you continue to pump him.
“All in good time, baby.” He moves up, licking a stripe up your neck before nipping at your ear. You shudder at the combination of sensations. His fingers, slick from the oil and your arousal, begin to swirl soft circles over your clit. It’s so good, but it’s soft, too gentle.
“More,” you groan, and to your surprise he listens, slipping two fingers inside, but he doesn’t pump them. “What are you doing, Tae?” He places his other hand atop your lower belly, pressing down lightly while the fingers inside you press up, dragging along your walls until they hit that perfect spot that has you keening, arching off the bed.
“There?” he asks, grinning as your hand halts on his dick. It’s the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut, because rather than pumping his fingers, he leaves him fully inside, massaging that one spot over and over. You nod, frantic, hips bucking as your chase your high, until he suddenly removes his fingers entirely.
Your eyes snap open, glaring at your boyfriend, who is currently wearing the definition of a ‘shit eating grin.’ “Taehyung. What the fuck.”
“We gotta take it slow, baby. Ease you into it.”
“I don’t need to be eased into it. I’ve been wet for hours. Make me come.”
Still smiling, he takes your hand off his cock and moves until he’s laying between your legs. “Can’t wait to taste you. You smell so good.” He runs his tongue up the length of your sex, swirling it over your clit before sucking the swollen nub into his mouth while his fingers play with your opening. Almost all at once you’re right back on that edge again, but he releases you before you can tumble over, forcing you to skirt along the cliff-face, but not allowing you to fall.
“If you don’t stop fucking edging me I swear to God-“ You can’t finish the threat because his fingers are back inside you, rubbing at that spot again, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. His tongue is no longer involved, and when you open your eyes for a peak at him he’s got a determined set to his jaw, his eyes black as they’re locked in on your pussy. Just the sight of him would be enough to make you come, the pressure of his fingers is merely icing on the cake at this point.
“Let go baby. Let everything go,” his voice is husky, so low you can barely hear it over the squelching of his fingers in your cunt, and it catapults you into the abyss. You arch off the bed, vision blurring before your eyes squeeze shut and your body convulses. You’ve never felt anything like it, and the sudden gush of liquid down your ass is the least of all the sensations. Taehyung doesn’t give you a break, pulling his fingers from you as you gush and swiping them across your clit, fast until you’re coming again before you’ve even had the chance to come down from the first orgasm, more liquid spurting from your weeping cunt.
“What-“ you heave, trying to catch your breath. “The fuck…” As you come down, you begin to feel just how extraordinarily wet you are. Opening your eyes, you look down at your boyfriend between your legs.
His face is soaked, glistening with your essence, a proud boxy grin on his face. “I told you you could squirt.”
“You,” you said, sitting up to grab his face and pull his lips to yours. You speak between kisses, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Are the most ridiculous, determined, incredible man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe that happened.”
“Can I fuck you now? I’m hanging on by a thread here. I almost came by proxy just from you gushing all over my face.”
“Yes,” you say, laughing against his lips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp as he trembles and moans. Reaching between your bodies, he grabs his cock and rubs its head along the length of your cunt. You jerk and twitch, slightly overstimulated but in that sweet spot where it hurts so good.
“You okay?” he asks, breaking away from your mouth so his eyes can search your face.
You could cry at his concern, but you won’t. All the moisture in your body is on Taehyung’s face already.
“I’m okay, just a little sensitive. I can’t believe that happened.” You repeat. “You’re incredible.”
Taehyung actually blushes, ducking his head into your neck. “I knew you could do it. We just had to unlock the code together.”
You put your hand under his chin, lifting his face up to kiss him. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you reach down and grab his length positioning it right at your opening. You lift your hips, sighing as he slips inside.
“You’re…” he trembles in your arms. “So warm. So wet. You feel so fucking good.” His words are slurred as he begins to pump into you, like he’s drunk off your cunt.
“You… too…” you whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as he rolls his hips, ensuring that his cock rubs against that spot deep inside that he had massaged before.
“I want you to come again. With me,” he says before bending to take your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his hips increasing.
“I can’t,” you keen, arching into him.
He pulls away, meeting your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. When he pulls away again, he tugs your bottom lips with his teeth before letting go. “You can, baby. And you will.” Reaching between your bodies, he swipes his fingers over your clit. He sits up, adjusting the angle of his hips so his cock presses against the top of your walls with more pressure.
“Tae. Baby. I’m gonna- nghhh-“ your words turn into a scream as you come again, writhing against Taehyung. Your hips jump so much he slips out of you, and this time you actually see the stream of clear liquid that shoot from you, landing on your boyfriends abdomen just as he comes as well, painting your pussy with ropes of milky cum.
Several moments pass as you both catch your breath, growing from wet to sticky with each passing second. Tae is the first one to speak, looking down at the veritable lake your body created with a goofy and satisfied smile. “Oops, I did it again.”
“Oh my god. Did you just quote Britney Spears after sex?”
“Cunt go crazy, like Britney, baby. You hit me with it one more time.”
Your hands come up to cover your face as you dissolve into laughter. Only Taehyung would complete an epic round of sex with the altered lyrics of his new favorite song.
“You’re so stupid,” you cackle.
Laughing with you, he lays down, covering your body and pressing kisses to your face. “I wasn’t even trying to make you squirt that time. I just wanted you to come with me.”
“Well, it worked. A little too well. This is going to be a lot of clean up.” Suddenly feeling hot and increasingly gross, you gently push him off you and sit up, looking down at your bodies and the soaked sheets. “Let’s go shower again.”
