pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)
premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!
chapter wc: 8k
for more details, pls see the master list (x)
note from holly: better late than never?? i recently was telling someone irl about this plot line and they were baffled by it all so i fear i have no choice but to see it through!! also excuse any typos, i've abandoned my trusty spell checker cause they've gone AI crazyyyy and wanna give me a bazillion suggestions that i simply don't want!! go away!! okay anyway, hope u have fun mwah xx
warnings: tipsy people doing as tipsy people do, foul language, sexting, the night that never was lore, yoongi tattoo reveal, arguments??, emotional hurt no comfort!! our main couple have some unresolved issues! quelle surprise!! (1) Pavlov mention, (4) voicemails that should really be deleted, mentions of sex toys, jimin is sexy, yoongi is mean (but i promise it will be worth it!!)
the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x) | part two (x)
minors dni!!!
04:06AM
D4m0cl3s:
lemme know when you get home safe x
Cl3m3ntin3:
omw x
can’t stop thinking about the photo you sent
pls still be that hard when i get home xx
have busted my phone tho :((((
D4m0cl3s:
nooooooo
how badly?
Cl3m3ntin3:
front camera is fucked 🙁
everything else is kinda okay tho
D4m0cl3s:
what about you?
you okay?
Cl3m3ntin3:
i’m all good
well
no
yeah
i’m good
D4m0cl3s:
good
missed you tonight, clem
you’ve no idea how badly i just wanna say fuck it and invite you to mine
Cl3m3ntin3:
you’re literally the only person in your way
just do it
D4m0cl3s:
i cant
Cl3m3ntin3:
can’t or won't?
D4m0cl3s:
both
Cl3m3ntin3:
why?
you already take a girl home tonight?
D4m0cl3s:
why would i?
so i could fuck her and think about you the whole time?
accidentally call her clem and ruin the experience for both of us?
Cl3m3ntin3:
idk
you tell me
D4m0cl3s:
got an attitude tonight, don’t u?
i told some girl tonight that i had to leave to get home to my girl
my girl, clem
Cl3m3ntin3:
your girl must be lucky
D4m0cl3s:
nah
she’s a fuckin’ dummy
cute tho
and has a really nice pussy, even if i’ve only ever seen it through a phone
clem ur all i think about
you know this
Cl3m3ntin3:
yeah well
i’m sure you’ve got loads of girls sending you stuff all the time
so it’s whatever really
D4m0cl3s:
what are you on about?
have i done something?
i don’t get why you’re giving me the third degree?
Cl3m3ntin3:
im not
just not sure i like being a dirty little secret
D4m0cl3s:
goes both ways
Cl3m3ntin3:
does it?
D4m0cl3s:
i dunno who pissed in your cornflakes, but my nights been ass, clem
i wanted to speak to you ‘cause you always make things better
but whatever’s going on with you tonight??
yeah, count me out
Cl3m3ntin3:
well forgive me for not wanting to be an emotional booty call for someone who doesn’t value me enough to make them an actual booty call!!
D4m0cl3s:
so… you’re mad i’m not just using you for sex?
right
have a little simmer on that one, clem.
Cl3m3ntin3:
have a little simmer on this
Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!
D4m0cl3s is offline
GENIUS LAB
Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu
Yoongi scrunches up his face almost as tightly as he pressed the lock button on his phone. He considers throwing it on the sofa on the other side of the studio, so he can focus on his music again, but apparently he's developed separation issues in recent weeks.
You can’t have everything. He’s learnt this lesson once before. He’d do well to revise his notes and retake the exam.
Tapping his desk as if he’s too scared to make contact with his keyboard, he looks up at the tracks in front of him. The layers you muted remain that way, and while the song feels less cluttered sonically, it’s still just as muddled in his mind.
Yoongi purses his lips as he tilts his head, dark eyes vacant as he tries to reconcile with the fact that the one thing he used to understand better than his own body doesn’t seem to make sense anymore.
Seems like a pattern. He used to understand the girl on the other end of the phone, but has somehow fucked that up.
Used to understand you, too.
He barely recognises you anymore. Occasionally there’s a glint in your eye that reflects a younger version of Yoongi back at himself, but more often than not, you don’t even give him the time of day. He can’t blame you, but he also doesn’t blame himself for what happened. It needed to happen.
Well, that’s not entirely true. If the night that never was never happened, then things could have remained as they always were.
Regret becomes Min Yoongi. It stiffens in his veins until his blood ceases to flow. His extremities become cold and it only spreads. Like a disease, there’s little warmth left in him now, he thinks. Can’t help but give you the cold shoulder, for cold is his only default.
Your perfume is still lingering in his studio. He can pick out the notes. Knows theres vanilla and sandalwood in it’s base. It was spliced with warm cedar on the night that never was, and is muddled with booze now, but he recognises it nonetheless. You linger, even when you’re not there.
He wonders if the boys showed up now, would any of them would realise?
He thinks Jungkook would. Like a bloodhound, he’d know you had been there. Never vocalises it, but all that teasing over the years about something between you two has Pavlov'd Jungkook, Yoongi reckons.
Territorial, is Jungkook, just like a damn dog. Bark is far worse than his bite, though. Ain’t nothing to be scared of.
Raking his fingers through his hair, Yoongi sighs. Realises that if Jin learns of you getting sent off into the night alone that he’ll have slmething to actually be scared of.
“Shit,” he curses, grabbing his phone, slipping it into his back pocket, and quickly grabs his bracelets to put them back on his wrist.
You wouldn’t think they were the kind of bracelets to come off, mostly string, but he’s got a knack to it. Curls his thumb into his palm and scrapes them up against his skin, until they’re secure in place once more.
He knows better than to be sending pictures of his hands with anything that can be tied back to him. There are instagram accounts dedicated to finding his outfits, and he knows for a fact they’ve already figured out the backstreet independent stores all of these bracelets come from. Wouldn’t be worth one of the pictures he’s sent on that damn app getting out if he had them on still.
The door clicks shut behind him as he heads to the elevators, agitated, jittering as he waits. It’s taking too long, though, coming from the ground floor up. His eyes shift across to the fire escape doors, then back to the number slowly rising above the elevator doors, and thinks fuck it.
He bolts down the stairs and into the cold of night, only for you to be gone without a trace.
“Shit,” he says once more, digging into his back pocket to grab his phone. Notices no new notifications from the app he’s borderline addicted to but ignores the disappointment. Pulls up his contacts. Scrolls to a number saved under a single full stop. No name, no emoji, just a full stop right at the bottom of his contact list.
It’s been like that for a while, since before things ever went wrong. Made it less tempting to text you when things used to be good. Also hid the fact he used text you like crazy right in front of Jin’s face.
So yes, Min Yoongi is full of regrets for many things he’s done in life, and you’re the biggest one. Not because of what happened, but because of all that he lost in doing so.
And so as the phone dial rings out in his ear, Yoongi stops breathing. Forgets it’s something he even needs to consider.
“Heya,” you softly greet him through the speaker. He’d been expecting rage. A ‘What?’ or ‘Fuck off’. He’s confused, but calmer, now.
“Hey-”
“Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now. Don’t leave me a message, I won’t listen, send me a text instead. Byeeee!”
Brilliant. There’s a beep through the speaker, and even though you said not to leave a message, Yoongi’s had too much whisky to comprehend this.
“Uh, I just, uh-wanted to check that you got home okay? I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. Jin will kill me. Just uh… Just let me know when you get home? Okay? That’s it. Alright…bye.”
Across town, with your phone pressed to your ear as you traipse up the hill leading to your apartment building, you listen to your voicemails option menu.
“To listen again, press 1. To delete, press 2. To save, press 3.”
With a scowl on your face, turning the corner to your entryway, you press down on your phone’s keypad, then hold it back to your ear.
“Message saved. You have 4 voicemails saved from this number. To listen—”
You don’t need the options. Already know. For reasons you can’t seem articulate, you tap one a number you really know you should.
“Voicemail received 672 days ago, at 17:51PM: Hey Fizz, I’m just on my way into the studio—I was wondering if you were around today? I’m gonna order from that Thai place you like and their minimum order is like, waaaaay too much for just me. Yeah, just uh, just give me a text or something? Gonna order in about an hour. That’s it. Okay, bye.”
Your hand is heavy on the bannister, legs all clunky and unable to walk with their usual grace. The perils of one too many is finally starting to kick in. Reaching your front door, you jam your doorcode in the keypad as the second voicemail plays.
“Voicemail received 497 days ago, at 01:32AM: Just a heads up, Jungkook’s looking for you. Saw him when I was leaving, and he asked if you were around. Anyway, I said no, so if he comes up and you’re in my studio it’s gonna be sus so either manually lock the door—he’ll think I’ve just changed the code again—or scarper while you can. Probably best you hide regardless. Especially with your hair like that. Not in a weird way. Just like, that and the outfit you’re—Well, yeah, no that sounds weird too. Whatever. Just, uh—Jungkook is looking for you. That’s it. Bye.”
Your door clicks shut behind you. There’s always the option of hanging up before the next message plays. You don’t have to listen to it, especially not when you need to take your shoes off. Bad choices seem to be in abundance tonight, for you switch the phone to loud speaker and pop in on your console table while you wrestle with the straps of your shoes.
“Voicemail received 435 days ago, at 21:39PM: I, uh, I don’t really know why I’m calling. I guess I’m just sorry about what happened. Sorry that it happened altogether. Crossed a line there, and, uh, yeah. Not proud of it, won’t happen again. I know you never listen to these, but I think this is the only thing I’m not blocked on, so it is what it is. Yeah. Sorry. Uh, that’s it, I guess. Bye.”
Cutting the voicemail call off before it replays tonight's message, your frown is fragile. There’s something so deeply pathetic about that recording. You pity him when you listen to it; but you pity the younger version of you that first listened to it even more.
She didn’t deserve to feel the way she did, sat in her bed, chewed up and spat back out by someone she trusted. There’s a silver thread that ties her to you, and the grief in her heart tugs on the string coiled around yours.
“Cunt,” you curse, hoping he feels your venom across the frequencies of the city; that a shiver will run down his spine like his grave is being walked upon.
If anyone were ever to ask you why you kept that voicemail, you’d tell them you don’t know. You’d think it to be true.
But that voicemail is the only evidence of the night that never was. That, and some bottle caps of your favourite orange in the bottom drawer of Yoongi’s studio—but you don’t know they’re there and he doesn’t ever really plan on telling you.
All the voicemail does now is prove exactly why a stupid fuckin’ anonymous app is the only place you’re willing to put yourself out there.
Deep down, you know you were only such an asshole to your Damocles Boy because of Yoongi. That the rejection from him felt like the recoil of Yoogni from way back when.
Poor guy has been nothing but an angel, really. Is far kinder to you than Yoongi ever was.
So a message is sent to him; a simple apology. The promise of a proper chat tomorrow. The assurance that you didn’t mean to be awful to him, and that you’ve just had a few too many.
It’s a rubbish excuse, but it’s the truth—and that’s as much as you can give him. Sort of. Your secrets guard the thing you’ve grown to enjoy so much.
And you know he’s right. It only works because of that. He’s not the love of your life. He’s company. A companion. Someone to look forward to. The promise that there are good ones out there, even if he isn’t your ‘the one’
Leaving your phone on your bed, you grab a towel from the clean laundry pile and saunter to the bathroom, discarding your clothes as you go. Your hallway becomes a runway for your evening; your bathroom a sanctuary to wash it all away.
Main light off, you pull the extractor cord on and flick the mirror lights into action. You need reprise. To be washed anew. Cleansed of your sins.
They wash down the drain with your makeup from the evening, eyes like a Panda and skin free of the drink splashes that had turned sticky.
It’s as you’re softly wiping the mascara way that you realise how awfully chipped your varnish is. Was only a couple of coats, quickly chucked on ‘cause you hadn’t had time to get them done properly, so it’s no surprise. You hate the way it looks though, so open your cabinet to find your bottle of polish remover and absolve them of the nights sins, too. No makeup, no nails, no clothes; a self-care hattrick.
Retracing your steps, picking your clothes up as you head up the hallway to your bedroom, a knock sounds on your door. A towel is wrapped around your body, and your hair is scrunched up in a towel, but that Dutch courage hasn’t left you yet.
You head through to the lounge, tossing your clothes on the armchair and through to the front door. Flick the lock and wait for the mechanical whir indicating it’s open.
Min Yoongi’s only ever seen you like this once before and he damn near lost his mind.
Standing before you now, your hallway light haloing around his angelic face, he’s right back there in that sauna; lakeside, hot cedar and red wine. A cigarette on the dock, shared. An innocence, lost. A friendship, irrevocably ruined.
He remembers what it felt like.
His fingers come to push the sensation off his lips as his jaw tenses, because to remember is to relive, and he cannot do that. Not now. Not here. Not in front of you.
And despite the droplets of water still trickling south down your neck to your shoulder, you feel all sticky, too. Dirty, despite being pristinely clean. You know it’s not, but it feels just like the sweat on your skin from the night that never was.
His eyes are wide, lips gently parted as he just simply says, “Oh.”
Like his shadow, you echo him, unable to say anything else but “oh” right back.
A good thing never lasts long with Yoongi, mind you. The white towel you’re sporting becomes a red flag and he becomes a bull; a fight surely about to ensue.
“What are you doing?” He scowles, walking past you and into your home, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Sorry?” You practically shriek as he walks straight on into your apartment, shoes kicked off by the door, your living room apparently his to parade around in.
“I could have been anyone and you just opened the door in a towel?” He scoffs, looking around, taking note of the fact you’ve rearranged since he was last in there. Kept those fluffy pillows he liked, though. If he notices your underwear on the armchair, he doesn’t mention it. Turning to face you, he shrugs, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. “What if some fuckin’ creep had followed you home?”
“Oh, you mean like you’ve just done?!” You scoff right back. “Pot, kettle, black. Creep.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. Tries not to smile when he notices the picture of you and Jungkook from high school framed on your wall. You’re both covered in paint, on your way home far later than you should have been to account for the detention you’d had to complete first.
Jungkook had been late for band practice that night. It was in your parent’s garage as usual, and is what sparked a near decade-long in-joke about you and Jungkook dating to piss Jin off.
You’d all been kids back then. You and Yoongi hadn’t ever really spoken. He wasn’t interested in hanging out with Jin’s kid sister—Jungkook was bad enough as it was, but the kid was fuckin’ talented. You were just annoying.
“God, you never grow up, do you? Use your brain for once,” he says, stern as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I was literally just coming to make sure you got home safe, ‘cause your fuckin’ brother would have me for breakfast if I didn’t.”
You’re not those kids anymore. You don’t need a baby sitter.
“Again, Yoongi,” You take a step towards him. His eyes remain trained on yours. Another step is taken, and he finds his gaze has to shift on account of how close you’re getting. He doesn’t think it’s wise. “If you really gave a shit about what Jin thinks, you wouldn’t have done half the things you have.”
He stays silent, and you know it’s because whatever he wants to say is mean. You smirk.
Pressing your index finger into his chest, nail free of the red varnish you had been sporting earlier that night, you make sure his eyes focus back on yours as you say, “You’ve no authority to speak to me like you do. Who even are you, huh? You’re my brother’s co-worker. That’s all you are. You’re nothing. So don’t pretend like this is all for my own good, when you don’t know the first fuckin’ thing about me anymore.”
You press your nail just a little deeper, his body swaying ever so gently as he lets you have this command over him. He doesn’t stop looking at you. Not for a second. Only when you go to leave, does he speak up.
“So, you’re just gonna leave me in here while you go to your bedroom?” He snorts, almost as if he finds this whole thing funny. “Not even kick me out? Wow, for someone who is adamant about how worthless I am, why aren’t you taking me out like trash?”
You pause by your door frame. Hold onto it. Tap it once, twice, then turn around. There’s still a little fire in your eyes, but it seems feeble now, like the flames have been deprived of a little oxygen.
“You’re my brother’s co-worker, and it’d really fuck up his job if anything happened to you,” You say, apparently jumping through hoops to make it all make sense. “So just say here, ‘cause I can’t be arsed trekking over town in half an hour to make sure you got home safe, too.”
It sounded bolder in your head. When you say it out loud, it delivers a little lackluster. Somewhat pathetic. You’ve said it now, though, so you’ve gotta commit to it. Yoongi pretends not to notice the way you grimace at your own words.
Expecting you to carry on, Yoongi says nothing. Just gives you that cold, vacant stare you’ve grown so used to.
Predictable, is Min Yoongi. He can let the silence sit with most people, but finds it quite uncomfortable with you. Eventually says, “I’ll be fine. Look, I’m just gonna go, ‘cause this is, like, weird.”
He doesn’t move mind you. Say’s he gonna leave and stays still.
Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Look, Yoongi, I’m shattered. Stay, or don’t, I don’t care. We both both know my couch is just as comfy as your bed. Don’t be difficult.”
It’s easy to miss, the slight beat in both of your hearts as you acknowledge that you know how comfortable his bed is. It’s not for any nefarious, illicit reason; no midnight tete e tete or midday rendevous.
You just went bed shopping with him when he moved into his first ‘grown up’ apartment. You’d been bored and he’d offered entertainment in the form of trying every single mattress within a 15 mile radius. Things had been easier back then. Just as weird, though, in retrospect.
Yoongi dismisses it. “Moved since then. New bed. That one’s in the spare room.”
It’s not a new discovery. He moved probably six months ago or so. Was on tour at the time and had to keep flying back between stops to get things sorted. Ran himself rugged. Rumour on the street (twitter, that is) was that he was going back to visit a girl.
You’d scoffed at the idea of it. Min Yoongi would be the last man to actually give a shit enough about a girl to commit like that.
“Right,” you nod, not really caring to learn any more intricacies of his life. “Well, you know where everything is. There’s filtered water in the fridge and bedding—”
“Bedding in the trunk,” he nods, remembering that all your spare pillows and sheets are in an old tea shipping trunk you got from a flea market when you were still in Uni. All sorts of nicknakcs have been hideen in over time; alcohol, birthday surprises, even people for various reasons or another. Now, it’s taken on a more boring vocation. Seems like life is heading that way generally. Nights out are ending sooner, and bones are getting achey. You’re not sure you like this change. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Yoongi has a few years on you, and you take great pleasure in this. His bones must ache, too. Moreso, even. Your sofa won’t be as comfy as it once was. A small win.
With a curt nod and a stiff smile that doesn’t meet your eyes, you turn your back on him and head to your room. There’s no point showing him around. He knows this place as intimately as he knows his own studio, even if it all feels foreign to him now.
Once you’re in your room, you flop onto your bed, head in the pillows, all air ehaling from your lungs. Hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath throughout the entire conversation.
Pulling your phone from it’s hidden spot beneath your pillow, you frown to see no new messages, ignoring the fact it is ass o’clock in the morning. Your Damocles boy is probably fast asleep - and could you blame him? After the way you flipped out at him for no good reason?
You scroll through your app folders until you find Hush tucked away, hidden in amongst ones you seldom use so as to not draw suspicion.
It opens up on your chat thread, and you find your frown threading itself even deeper into the lines on your forehead when you see he’s been active since then.
If you’re not careful, those lines will become so deepset that everyone you ever meet will be able to decipher the clamamities they chronicle.
Look at her, strangers would whisper. She definitely fell for someone on Hush who turned out to be a weirdo.
Thing is, no one would look at you and say that. No one would even think that the reason you look so tired is because you’re up all hours on hush. They’d just think you were burning the candle a both ends.
Part of you wishes you were. Or at least wishes that it was a Babylon candle you were burning; you could think of Damocles, and you’d be right there with him. That you could just put it all to bed and see exactly who he is. Give him the chance to decide if he’d wanna make it work. If it’s a risk worth taking.
Your nails tap against your screen, typing faster than you think. Almost as soon as you press send, you exit the app. Check your phone is on silent mode, ‘cause you can’t have Yoongi hearing the vribrate tone of the app incase he knows it, too. You doubt he does. Too old fashioned for the modern conventions of dating—and anyway, he told you he was seeing someone. Hush should be the last app he should be familiar with.
Locking your phone, almost scared to get a response, you toss it down beside you, a small glimmer of hope that he’ll be awake.
Your daydreams of Damocles are interrupted by Yoongi coughing all rather onbnoxiously from the other room. No one coughs like that. He definitely spluttered. You scowl at the thought of it. He’s a walking, talking, coughing ick.
And yet you forget all about him as you unlock your phone to see a new notification waiting for you. A white flag is being waved and it’s suddenly your favourite colour.
04:52AM
Cl3m3ntin3:
i know ur mad at me </3
but i have a question
babylon candles
the ones you light and think about where you wanna go, then get magically transported
if you had one, what would u think of
where would u go x
D4m0cl3s:
evil
this is a trick question, isn’t it?
Cl3m3ntin3:
is it? :(
D4m0cl3s:
Clem
be so for real rn
if i say anything that isn’t you, you’ll block me
Cl3m3ntin3:
maybe
wouldn’t it be so fun to find out tho???
D4m0cl3s:
no
absolutely not
the concept of being blocked by the one thing i can’t stop thinking about is genuinely vomit inducing
i would throw up
BE SICK
literally think i would fall apart
Cl3m3ntin3:
omg shut up no you wouldn’t you big babyi missed u
glad ur up
but answer the question dummy
D4m0cl3s:
missed u more
sorry for fighting
and for the record ur a big baby
Cl3m3ntin3:
answer the question omg
D4m0cl3s:
it’s up for debate!! i’m not sure!!
i think maybe my hometown
haven’t visited in ages
think you’d like it
am gonna take you there one day, show you all my fave places
tell you what tho, clem i think i’d mess a babylon candle up
think i’d think of you regardless
think i’d end up at your door looking incredibly sorry for myself
Cl3m3ntin3:
you wouldn’t even know it was my door
just be disturbing all my neighbours smh
and who’s to say i don’t have roommates? you might be greeted by someone else
you might not realise it isn’t me
what if you gave them a kiss thinking it was me </3
D4m0cl3s:
i’d know it’s you
god, i would know
you have any idea how many times i’ve thought of showing up at some nondescript door, greeting some nondescript girl?
i never really imagine you physically
you’re just like… an entity???
i’d just feel it
if you opened up your door for me, i’d feel it
Cl3m3ntin3:
what’s ‘it’, huh?
what would you feel?
D4m0cl3s:
salvation
Cl3m3ntin3:
you’re so dramatic
D4m0cl3s:
im not
i’m honest
i genuinely think meeting you will feel like the weight of the world is lifted
and then i’ll be horny but idk how relevant that part is
Cl3m3ntin3:
i think i’d be offended if you weren’t x
D4m0cl3s:
i get hard every time hush sends me a notification
only cause i know it’s you
you’ve corrupted me
i used to be a good
a gentleman
and now i’m some fiend who doesn’t know his heart from his dick
Cl3m3ntin3:
you can still be good, babe
just good for me xx
D4m0cl3s:
you know i always am
should see me in clubs
the self-restraint is saintly
Cl3m3ntin3:
you need restraint?
so youre tempted to stray???
D4m0cl3s:
No
god no never
the real restraint is not picking you up on your offers when you ask to see me
cockblocking myself
Cl3m3ntin3:
well you’ve missed you shot for the night
one of my friends is crashing here
i can’t leave and you can’t come
RIP ur hopes n dreams </3
D4m0cl3s:i
can’t cum??
even if i send you a video of it???:((((
Cl3m3ntin3:
not like that, dummyy
ou know i alwaysss want you to cum for me
what’s gonna make you cum tonight, huh?
how are you thinking of having me?
D4m0cl3s:
on a couch
hmmm yeah, big comfy couch
Cl3m3ntin3:
for my potential, totally real housemates to walk in on?
gasp
he’s an exhibitionist
D4m0cl3s:
you’ve told me you live alone a million times when youre trying to convince to come over, dummy
and yeah, couch
i mean it
if i showed up at your door, we wouldn’t make it to the bedroom
Cl3m3ntin3:
you think i’d be that easy????
Wow
thanks a lot!!!!
blocked!!!!
D4m0cl3s:
i don’t think you’d even say hello
i think you’d be too busy kissing me to show me around
i think you’d wrap your arms around my neck
and i’d pick you up, legs around my waist
one of my hands on your waist, the other on your ass
keeping you supported, like a gentleman
duh
Cl3m3ntin3:
so courteous of you babe
would the bulge in your pants be gentlemanly, hmm?
cause we both know you’d be rock hard
D4m0cl3s
:you’re imagining it aren’t you, baby?
how i’d sit down on the couch, you straddled ontop of me?
i know you well enough now to know that you’d be in some big old t-shirt
with underwear thats so tiny it may aswell not be there
Cl3m3ntin3:
so i’m half naked in this little dream of yours, but you’re fully clothed?
that hardly seems fair
D4m0cl3s:
nah
i’d have just showered
would have pulled sweats on with no underwear
you’d feel how fuckin’ hard i am as you grind on me
you’d be so wet it would be seeping through
grinding on my thick, throbbing cock
fuck
i’d wanna fuck you so badly
would you let me?
Cl3m3ntin3:
would you ask nicely?
D4m0cl3s:
No
probably not
i think i’d probably mumble it into your mouth while i was kissing you
tell you how badly i wanna be inside you
then i’d let you make of that what you will
Cl3m3ntin3:
god, i’d wanna be mean soooo bad
would wanna leave you hanging but fuck
i know i’d want you too
even thinking about it is getting me all wet
i’d show you if i was home alone
buttt i’m not
so i wont :*
D4m0cl3s:
god i gotta get myself a babylon candle
Cl3m3ntin3:
think of me in my bed when you do
don’t bother fucking around with the front door
this is where i want you
fuck the couch, fuck all of it
just be in my bed
D4m0cl3s:
god, i’m so fuckin’ hard
such much precum
it’s literally begging to be inside you
wouldn’t last a minute, i swear to god
Cl3m3ntin3:
lucky me ;)
you’d waste a babylon candle on a single minute?
you must be desperate
cute
D4m0cl3s:
shut up
it’s cause you’re too hot
you think i wouldn’t make up for it huh?
you think i wouldnt eat that creampie right from the chef’s table?
fuckin’ gourmet
and you think i wouldn’t share it with you?tl
think i wouldn’t go back down and eat you till your legs are fuckin’ shaking?
babe
do you even know me at all? ;)
Cl3m3ntin3:
god i’m close just thinking about it
D4m0cl3s:
get closer
keep playing with yourself
i’m stroking myself
wish you were here so bad
Cl3m3ntin3:
just close your eyes babe
pretend i am
D4m0cl3s:
if i close my eyes i can’t message you </3
Cl3m3ntin3:
my camera’s fucked
but this is from a couple days ago
Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!
this is what you do to me each and every time
i’m even wetter now than i was then
D4m0cl3s:
Jesus
you’re so fuckin wet
look at that pretty pussy
soaked just for me
i gotta get you one of those remote control vibrators, i swear to god
it’s not enough, being the reason you cum mentally i gotta make you cum physically
fuck
babe keep going
keep touching yourself
Cl3m3ntin3:
i wish i could call
🙁
D4m0cl3s:
i know, babe, me too
just keep playing with that pretty pussy for me
get yourself creaming for me
i’m so close
so fuckin’ close
Cl3m3ntin3:
me too
Fuck
god i want it all inside me
i wanna cum around your cock so bad
D4m0cl3s:
babe
fuck
Cl3m3ntin3:
oh god
i’m there
D4m0cl3s:
fuck
clem
Cl3m3ntin3:
fucking hell
Hehehehhee
you good?
D4m0cl3s:
yeah babe
all good
fuck i miss finishing on call, but fuck
Yeah
came so hard
Cl3m3ntin3:
what were you thinking about?
D4m0cl3s:
i wasn’t
i was looking at that picture
you’ve no idea how perfect you are
do i even wanna know what you were thinking about?
Cl3m3ntin3:
my default closing scene
us
my bed
missionary
weird enigma where you should be ;)
D4m0cl3s:
i’m worried now
what if you can’t cum with me in real life cause i’m not an enigma?
Cl3m3ntin3:
i’ve seen your cock
there’s no way i’m not cumming
perfect
fuck a vibrator
get one of those dick moulds
at least that way i could feel you
D4m0cl3s:
it’s just for you babe
all yours
and that’s actually not a bad idea
think i’d be scared of breaking my dick or something with it tho
Cl3m3ntin3:
as it should be ;)
hold that thought x
Cl3m3ntin3 is offline
“Oh, Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You shriek as you step into your hallway, only to be greeted with a dark figure leaving the bathroom. It doesn’t take any time at all to figure out who it is, in part aided by the light pouring in from the living room doorway.
“Shitting hell,” Yoongi hisses, the bright smile he’d been mysteriously sporting evaporating as soon as his eyes land on yours.
You’re so overcome with your surprise that you almost don’t notice his attire, or lack thereof.
He’s in a pair of boxers. Black. Branded, probably, but the light is too low, and your aversion to anything below his naval prevents you from staring. His hair is dishevelled, but there’s a lightness to him. Relief, perhaps.
It’s a lightness you haven’t seen in a while. A lightness you’ve only ever truly seen once, but that memory is tucked so far away in the depths of your mind that you can’t recall it, now.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask, as he’s not clearly going back to the living room after going to the bathroom. His phone is in his hand, locked, but gripped so tightly he’ll snap it right in half if he isn’t careful. Would send the glass shattering, impaling himself with the shrapnel. He’d do anything to keep his secrets safe. Would self-sacrifice before he admitted anything to you. Already said too much earlier this evening. Knows he’s one false footing away from falling over entirely.
“Baking a cake?” He sarcastically sneers. “The fuck does it look like? God forbid a man needs a piss.”
“Yeah, well, go outside next time,” you huff in reply, as if that's a reasonable or functional thing to request. You live in an apartment block. A man pissing outside would definitely get you a strike against your tenancy agreement.
He just rolls his eyes, and continues towards the lounge. Signs off with, “I wanted to leave. You told me to stay. This is your own damn creation, Fizz.”
He stops in his tracks, just shy of the doorframe. His broad shoulders barely fit through, muscles strong and defined. The valley of his spine is a dangerous path to follow, yet your eyes stalk down it like a deer in headlights.
He’s gained a tattoo since you last saw his bare skin. Between his shoulder blades rests a sword. It’s delicate. Deadly, no doubt.
It reminds you of your Damocles boy, and almost distracts you from the fact he called you by the nickname he gave you a million moons ago. The rest of the boys still call you it, but you don’t think you’ve heard it come from his mouth since the night that never was.
He closes the door behind himself, knowing that there’s nothing else left to say. He’ll rest until dawn, then will be gone before the recycling truck comes to pick up the trash ahead of the day. There’ll be no goodbye, but that's not unusual for him.
Threading the lock of the bathroom door through the latch, you take a deep breath. Look at yourself in the mirror. Your furrowed lines of frustration have all but gone. It’s funny, how similar to Yoogni you can be; how a little time with your phone can lift a weight.
You suppose he was maybe speaking with the person he’s seeing. Cherry, you name her in your head, thanks to the drawings in his notebook.
He’d suit a cherry. Cherry red lips, cherry cola hair. Bright red lollies, glasses of merlot and bloody knees after a piggyback gone wrong. Maroon nails stroking against that sword he’s adorned himself with. Sanguine in his security; Min Yoongi wouldn’t rush into anything he wasn’t certain of. Rosy noses in the winter, flushed cheeks in the elevator as his hand tangle in her hair, the most cardinal thing he’s ever known.
So yeah, you think. He’d suit a cherry.
Not the fizz of fuckin’ orangade. So fuckin’ immature. You’ve always been and will remain to be his best friend's younger sister. And that’s fine.
He doesn’t even look that good under the orange glow of dimmed streetlamps, and he definitely doesn’t look phenomenal in firelight. Fuck no. And he looks like a tit when he peels oranges. In fact, you hate going into his studio after he’s had a clementine, and he’s always fuckin’ eating them these days. You love the scent and he is actively ruining it.
You lift your head. Meet your own gaze in the mirror. Furrow your brows once more, ‘cause why does any of this matter?
If anything, it should be a relief to hear him call you Fizz.
So lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t notice your phone light up, Jimin’s face in the caller ID.
It’s not unsuaul for him to call, but it is unsualf for him to call so late. Or early, really. You figure he’s just making sure you got home safe. He’s good at that; checking in. Does it with all the boys, too.
Jimin is your friend. Has been for years.
Park Jimin, Chief Artist Liaison Officer of Big Hit? Senior Tour Manager?
Yeah, he’s a different entity entirely.
Park Jimin has a job to do, and that job is to ensure The Scouts are as profitable as can be for the label. He knows damn well the importance of keeping the ‘assets’ safe. You included in that, whether you like it or not..
Have you all on his ‘find my friends’ app. Has done for years. You’ve pretty much all forgotten.
You see, the truth of the matter is that you and Yoongi aren’t the only ones who don’t speak about the night that never was. Jimin’s never told a soul, either. Not even you.
He knew damn well the repercussions of telling anyone that he’d seen you and Yoongi driving out of the city together on a weekend he was supposedly ‘visiting family’ and you were seeing ‘friends from uni’.
When he had checked back in on his app later that afternoon, just to see if Yoongi had dropped you off in your uni city on the way down to Daegu, he’d paused. Frowned. Searched the forums to see if there were any active glitches or servers down. Found no evidence that there were. Instead, he just found that for some unexplainable reason, you’d been in the same remote location for 3 hours.
He had half a mind to call you both. Ask what the hell you were thinking. What the hell you were doing. Decided against it. Just spent his weekend quiety observing.
Come Monday morning, your little avatars on his screen were miles way, different parts of Seoul. He held his breath. Knew if he saw you together again, for any unexplained reason, he’d have to hold an intervention.
But you were never together again. Sure, sometimes at work, but never outside of it. Whatever happened during those 44 hours you were locked in on the side of a lake with nothing around it for miles, he didn’t need to know.
All that he knew was Yoongi threw himself into writing the next batch of tracks for the album, and you bleached your hair, so it must have been pretty fuckin’ brutal for you both—and that was music to his ears.
Not ‘cause he didn’t love you both or want what’s best for you, but because he did and continues to love you both all the same. He wants what’s best for you—and your brother's oldest friend is not what’s best for you.
Your brother fighting his oldest friend because of you? Also not good. Would cause irreparable damage to the band, and Jimin cannot afford that.
So he’ll take Yoongi as recluse and you as a fried blonde if it means The Scouts remain as bulletproof as they always were.
But you’re not blonde anymore and Yoongi’s got writer’s block. Quelle surprise, your avatars have been stapled to your apartment block for the last two hours with no sign or movement.
He is not letting it happen again.
Especially not with the shitstorm you’ve ‘caused tonight.
“Can I help?” You answer with a smile, anticipating a drunk Jimin on the other end of the line.
Instead, he’s direct. To the point. “Is Yoongi there?”
“Uh…”
“Fizz, I know he is.”
“He’s on the couch?” You half question as if it isn’t true. The issue is, the rest of it is all a little messy, so a white lie is told. “He walked me home, so—”
“I don’t wanna know,” Jimin interrupts, as if he knows you’re bullshitting him. “Just get him out of there. The internet is going fuckin’ crazy and I can’t have him getting papped leaving—”
“Sorry?” You ask, utterly bemused, leaving the bathroom and heading across to the living room to get Yoongi up. Whatever had a bee in Jimin’s bonnet like this would have to be serious. He wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t. “Yoongi—”
Already on his own phone, Yoongi greets you with dark eyes that practically scream: We’re fucked.
“Yeah, I know Kook,” Yoongi stresses down the line of his phone. Eyes on yours, he’s panicked. Like dark cherries almost, glinting in the light, his eyes are sweet in their distress. “No, no it wasn’t like— Fuck. How many? 56 thousa– Oh Jesus. Okay. Yeah. Fuck. I’ll be at the studio in 15.”
“Gotta go,” you say to Jimin, hanging up as Yoongi does the same to Jungkook.
“Fuckin’ intenret weirdos,” he hisses, tossing his phone down into the sofa. He reclines back with a sigh, raking a stressed hand through his hair. Explains, “Someone took a picture of us grabbing a taxi, and apparently twitter is in a meltdown.”
Your heart is beating so fast you can practically taste blood. You’re crimson in your surprise. Fitting, really, that the panic of getting caught up with Yoongi would turn you such a shade.
You remember what happened with Tae, though, when innocent pictures were misconstrued and he almost lost the love of his life as a result of it. If Yoongi really is seeing someone, and the internet is playing cupid without his consent, it could be detrimental. You’d sneered at the idea of his cherry girl earlier, but you feel sick now at the idea of being ‘that’ girl. The other girl, even if you’re not.
Pulling his trousers on, Yoongi continues to curse. Says some shit about knowing better than to get caught up in a situation like this.
“Oh, give over,” you almost laugh, knowing how damage control works in this industry. “You’ll be papped with a girl next week; everyone will forget about it. Some influencer or something. Or better yet, why not a contestant from singles inferno? That seems to fit your modus operandi.”
Yoongi pauses, jaw slack before it tenses. He scoffs. Shakes his head. Barely remembers doing that pap walk. Doesn’t get why it’s something you’ve clearly got a gripe with. Was just business.
“Yeah, maybe,” he bites back. “And maybe you’ll bleach your hair so no one fuckin’ recognises you—Oh wait, no they will! ‘Cause it’s the world’s worst disguise, and then maybe the fuckin’ fans will see you on back-to-back nights out and find the LinkedIn accounts and grandparents of every single man you’re seen making out with and then Hoseok will have to pull you in for another meeting about keeping a low profile so Jin doesn’t have to publicly deal with having harlot for a sister? Maybe? Hm? How does that sound?”
So turns out Yoongi knows exactly why you’ve got a gripe with that pap walk, ‘cause he seems to have a pretty big gripe with your crash out as a result of it.
It wasn’t your finest hour, you will admit. The blonde was good. The nights out? Yeah, low point.
But Yoongi’s weekend bag was still in the boot of his car when he drove some girl from the most recent series of Singles Inferno to a restaurant for some ‘mutually exclusive deal’. He knows there was a receipt from your favourite Thai place in the passenger side door and the cap of one of your orangades in the cupholder.
“We both know the blonde was hot,” you childishly retort. “And if you can fuck around with Z-listers from dating shows, then who gives a fuck who I’m seen with? I’ve got girls with smartphones following me around; you’ve got paps with professional cameras. Bit different. If I’m a harlot then what the fuck are you, Yoongi? At least I don’t get paid for mine.”
He was never seen with her again, in all fairness. He’s never seen with the same girl twice. Ever.
It’s all part of the ‘image’. Even if it hadn’t been you tonight, it would have been some other girl that his Cherry lady would have had to see all over socials. It’s a sad way to live.
“Look, if anyone asks, it’s exactly as it was,” Yoongi tells you, not caring to carry on the bickering. He doesn’t really think you're a harlot. Quite the opposite, actually. He isn’t so sure you’d say the same about him. “I made sure you were home safe, then I left.”
There’s nothing more to say. Nothing left worth fighting about.
And so you let him disappear into the night. The streetlamps will tarnish him in orange, but his fury at how this has all gone down will paint him red regardless.
With a sigh, trying your best to ignore the slight scent of his aftershave in the air, you plonk down onto the sofa. Flick up twitter. Scroll for approximately 2 seconds, and then you see it.
“Shit.”
It’s really not that incriminating, you think as you scroll. An easy mistake. Might not even be you! You can barely see—
Oh.
No.
There’s another picture of you in the club. Okay, so yeah, it’s not deniable. But it’s fine! You’ve known him for years. Of course you hang out. It’s fine.
The pictures repeat and repeat and repeat. Different angles, different saturation, different contrast. There are edits already. Occasionally there’s cries of fans telling other people not to spread them, which do you appreciate it.
But then there’s another picture.
Daylight. Pixelated. Far harder to decipher. Insane zoom and crop of a much larger picture. The caption makes no real sense to you. It declares you as a couple. Declares #FIGIISREAL. Boasts that they were right. That you and Yoongi have been together for years.
And once you realise what it is—where it is—you gasp.
There’s no way.
It can’t be.
But it is.
The morning after the night that never was stares you in the face; Yoongi’s expression pained as a kiss is pressed to the side of your (pre-bleached) head, waiting in line at the gas station convenience store.
warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!
a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!
wc: 13.7K
bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)
AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI
Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one.
Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.
So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse.
He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.
Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.
Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.
It’s terrifying, in a way.
You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.
And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .
“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him.
His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter.
The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.
But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.
“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.
You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.
“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”
“But should I?”
“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”
You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods.
And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.
He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.
“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”
“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”
“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”
You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look.
This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat.
Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.
This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.
He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.
It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.
Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him.
He nods.
And so you move a pawn instead.
“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter.
What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.
“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made.
He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.
“What?!”
He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.
Check.
Mate .
Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this.
"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.
"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."
"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.
"You left him wide open for me to take!"
"You could have gone easy on me!"
"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"
"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.
He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.
He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."
"Go on."
"Strip chess."
"Pervert."
"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.
You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.
"I think you're just trying to get me naked."
"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"
"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"
"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."
Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous.
It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you.
It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.
With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"
"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.
"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."
"You didn't win."
"Says who?"
"Anyone who has ever played chess?"
"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."
"You're in my way," he says.
"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."
"And I'm not throwing you across the room."
"Please," you pathetically beg.
"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"
"Just wanna make you feel good."
"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet.
Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared.
While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.
He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment.
His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips.
"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him.
Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.
A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this.
"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."
He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."
Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.
The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"
No.
But he can't resist either. "You're on."
Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace.
A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.
It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?
Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive.
Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s.
Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.
"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."
"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.
"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."
Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour.
Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is.
Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.
But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news.
Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open.
There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors.
The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.
In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.
"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.
Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."
Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.
Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.
The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.
The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place.
"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind.
Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?
"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."
"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."
Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."
Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."
"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"
Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice.
"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."
"Would you get sick of her?"
"Don't be stupid. No."
"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."
Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"
"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."
"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.
Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."
"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."
A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"
Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.
Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.
So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.
The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you.
His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want.
It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume.
Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.
"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him.
"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"
"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"
"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors.
He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings.
Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.
It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.
"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.
"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him.
"And yet here I am."
Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.
Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"
"I love you?"
"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."
"Fuck you.”
"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."
"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"
"Ddaeng."
"Jimin sucks?"
"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."
"Gimme a hint."
"It's the name of the restaurant."
The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.
"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.
It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.
Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place.
A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock.
"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"
"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."
It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.
"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.
"I was lying."
"You've no shame."
Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips.
Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.
It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.
"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head.
"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."
"Sure?"
"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."
"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."
"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"
"Just a little."
When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams.
The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.
"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."
For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.
Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version.
"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable.
Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."
Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him.
"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."
There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.
"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"
He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"
"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."
Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.
"For me?"
The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan.
"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."
Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new.
"Never had flowers before."
"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration.
With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably.
His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing.
Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute.
"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both.
"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."
He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.
"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."
Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."
"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.
With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point.
Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.
"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.
"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."
"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information.
"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."
Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling.
"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."
"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"
"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."
"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"
"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."
Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more.
He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so.
He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.
But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.
It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.
“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”
He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.
“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.
“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious.
Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”
Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”
“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”
Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.
Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema.
By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day.
There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.
“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you.
It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him.
“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back.
Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home.
“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head.
“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.
“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm.
The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”
“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”
It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet.
Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”
He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”
“You mean your action figures?”
“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”
“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”
“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”
“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”
He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”
Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference.
He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt.
“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”
The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love.
The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.
Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels.
The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.
Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go.
“B?”
“Mhmm?”
“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”
“Think so.”
Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.
When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).
“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.
And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.
“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”
But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.
“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”
“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”
You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted.
“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”
“You think?”
“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”
Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”
Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick.
“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”
Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”
It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval.
“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch.
You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again.
He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.
“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”
“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”
Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”
“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”
You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.
“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”
“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”
His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited.
“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”
The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.
“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”
Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.
“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.
Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.
“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”
Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.
Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.
“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.
“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”
“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”
“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”
He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?
Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.
“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”
You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”
“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”
“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.
Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk.
The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.
“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”
He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too.
“Did you just call my tits… balls?”
One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”
“You definitely did.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did—”
“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”
“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”
“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”
“Are we not past the point of the birds?”
“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”
Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.
“Are we?”
“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”
In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done.
“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south.
It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.
His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral.
“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”
He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.
Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.
Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.
Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.
There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you.
And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants.
Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.
“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.
You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver.
The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.
If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.
Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive.
It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens.
But it is a surprise when he lets go.
“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.
He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer.
You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle.
He doesn’t say anything.
Not immediately, at least.
What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself.
As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.
The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .
Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him.
And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.
After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).
His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.
“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”
“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.
“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.
It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first.
So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.
“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”
Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).
“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away.
“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.
“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.”
He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”
A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this.
“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.
He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch.
“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.
He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.
And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.
Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”
“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.
Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.
“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”
He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you.
It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal.
Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you.
His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.
“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”
And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night.
He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away.
When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you.
There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.
Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.
That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.
Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.
And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls.
“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.
It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him.
You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more.
Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.
Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.
Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.
A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you.
Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does.
“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.
Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you.
You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure.
And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.
“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.
Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.
His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.
Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”
The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”
“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”
You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.
Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.
Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot.
“Yeah?” You check in.
Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”
Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.
And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.
Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible.
There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.
When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.
It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t.
A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him.
It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.
“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”
Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.
“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.”
Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to.
Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.
“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”
“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”
If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names.
“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”
“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.
And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps.
It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.
“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”
Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before.
“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”
With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”
“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”
“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”
He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”
The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning.
“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.
You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you. Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you.
“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”
You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up.
“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”
“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.
“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”
“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom.
It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept.
Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.
In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change.
After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?
x warnings: mentions of death, grief, workaholic behaviour, flirting, in some chapters (maybe) smut but I'll give a warning
x genre: slow-burn, farm life, coming of age, AU
x rating: maybe some explicit scenes, minors dni
x word count: 2k
x inspiration: The Hannah Montana Movie
x teaser: Y/N is the adopted daughter of a farmers couple. She lives in the big city now and is the head of a fashion label. One day she receives bad news that her parents died in a car crash and that she is now the owner of the farm her parents left behind.
Now a journey of healing and learning to love begins....
P A R T 1
The door of my driver's vehicle opens for me and I step out, walking straight to the glass doors with golden framing of one of the biggest skyscrapers in the city. It is the entrance to my company building. My stiletto heals click in a smooth rythm above the marble floor that lead to the front desk and elevators. A few of my employees bow and greet me, some gave me pityful looks, knowing that I'm still mourning my late parents death. Arriving at the entrance I greet our absent-minded front desk lady, Ashley, she's bored out of her mind as ever. "Hello Ashley, do you happen to know my schedule for today." I asked her gracefully. She just looked at me wide-eyed and bewildered. Then she began to rummage through a stack of papers and shrugged her shoulder's at me popping a bubble of gum. A few angry words wanted to leave my mouth this instant, but a steady hand on my shoulder calmed me down.
"First of all, you need to look through the old collections and compare them. Then's the meeting with your parents notary and after that we need to talk about the new collection asap. Dior is going to one up us if we dont release a teaser for our new collection soon. The press is also onto us and wants a statement on your absence." It was Namjoon, my assistant and secretary, he rambled to me about my schedule while pressing a coffee into my hand. All while talking to each other we walked towards the elevator and rode to the 30th floor, which was my office floor. What would I do without this clumsy but organized man?
"Namjoon I have no clue what we should do." I said in a torn up voice. Namjoon looked at me and pushed up his glasses. "Well, we could hire a few stars to promote the collection. Maybe even make a short film about it or do something scandalous. I bet if we do that our new collection will get more attention than Gucci's or Versace's." He nodded towards me. "That's the problem Namjoon. There's is no new collection. I have nothing. No ideas. No sketches. Nothing. Nada." I told him truthfully. Namjoon stopped in his tracks, throwing his hands on my mouth. "Psssshhhh" he shushed me and dragged me into the nearest office, which happened to be mine. He closed the door and violently pulled down the blinds, so that no one walking by my office could see us. "Have you gone mad? Oh my god are you in your Andy Warhol phase?" he exaggerated. "No. Namjoon, oh my god stop exaggerating! I've just been so drained of creativity and energy since...you know, since it happened." I said in a weak voice. Namjoon's gaze softened and he gave me a soft hug. "Why did you even shush me and drag me in here?" I asked confused by the sudden location change.
He proceeded to look around nervously. "If anyone hears that you have no ideas for the next collection, we'll be ruined. The public will hear about it and soon the press too. They'll call you a worn-out designer. The company will be in trouble and the employees will lose trust in you and some of them may or may not consider to leave us. Gucci and Dior have offered some of our employees a better deal, most of them stayed out of sheer respect for you and your grief." He explained. He's right, it all depends on the new collection. "Namjoon, I will find a solution. You're absolutely right, no one can know about this. Although if they want to leave us they are unloyal petty bitches anyway so--" Namjoon shoved me in my big office chair without any further words to my sentence before.
"What can I do to inspire you?" Namjoon said, more to himself than to me, while roughly massaging my shoulders. I shoo him away and he starts pacing up and down in my office,making me quiet nervous actually. "Namjoon stop pacing! I'm going insane." "Sorry, that's how I think best."
While Namjoon is in his thought-zone I began to read through the archive of my old collections and started to compare them to each other. Crossing out what has already been done. Also doing a bit of research on what is defined as fashionable right now and what the competition is up to. I've always been a low-key designer. Never one to attend a lot of gala's or fashion shows. I always wanted to make affordable clothes, but somehow my label got a lot bigger and way more high-end than I intended it to be. It did bother me a little in the beginning, but it had its perks beeing a high-end fashion designer. One of them is the creative freedom I have, while also being my own boss and head of my company. It comes with a lot of cons too though. Considering that I have zero to no free time usually.
"How about a power-suit collection for women. Let's hop onto the equality and female rights train. We make a whole collection consisting of power suits in neon and bright colors or maybe patterned." I said springing out of my seat on my desk, very excited about said idea. "Gucci and even Zara already did that honey. Vogue made a whole article about it." Namjoon said in a sassy voice shaking his head left to right. "Ugh, I'm clueless." I told him while sinking into my seat again.
"What if we create a coat collection. A faux fur coat collection." I uttered. Namjoon looked equally excited as me and asked: "In unnatural colors? Like pink, green and yellow? Neon fur coats?" "Yeah, that's exactly my idea? Omg how did you know?" I ushered excited with a smile on my face. Namjoon's smile fell and he rolled his eyes. "Because we already did that two years ago. Cardi B wore it to the Met Gala. Remember?" He said annoyed. "Oh yeah right. I designed that." I answered disappointed. Namjoon looked exhausted. It wasn't always easy with me... "It'll come to me. I will give you the perfect idea tomorrow morning. Deal?"
Namjoon looked at me sceptical, but put his hand out anyways as to say "Deal".
With a rather awkward smile I kept on going with my day and greeted the employees. I was never good at hiding secrets, especially not when these secrets could cost them their job.
As I walked through the corridors I received the message from Namjoon that I need to attend the meeting with my parents notary, that I oh-so dreaded to attend. Decisions were to be made about my parents belongings and about what they've inherited me. I was mentally prepared to be the one to clear out their house if something might happen, because I'm their only child, but never for that...
The notary, a very good-looking man called Kim Seokjin, scattered his papers around my desk and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for your loss, Ms. Y/L/N. I'm gonna ask you some questions now, just for formality." He said. As a grieving person, this sentence is nothing but a formality itself aswell, it doesn't help you recover from the death of your loved-ones. But I'm thankful for him being this considerate thusfar, so I nodded in acknowledgement. "Your parents were Y/M/N and Y/F/N, farmers on the southside of the outlands? Is that right?" I nodded again. Not daring to say a word. Mr. Kim sighed. "Miss, I'm not here to take something from you. I am the person that enforces your parents will. You don't have to be scared at all. Any questions or anything you'll need help with, I'm here." Mr. Kim gave me a heart-warming smile and held my hand in his for a few seconds which made me breathe a relieving breath. "Ok let's go on Mr. Kim, I'm ready."
"Ms. Y/L/N, I assume your parents adopted you?" Mr. Kim asked cautiously. I released a small laugh and said "Does it really matter, they are my only real parents. I was an accident and my biological parents decided to give me up. These people raised me." Maybe I got a little too defensive, but right now it is a sensitive topic to me. Because knowing what's on the line for me, I would really want some keepsakes to remember my parents. Maybe something small, like clothes from my mom or my dads old watch.
"I'll just get right to the point. You parents inherited you, their only child, the farm and the whole property." Mr. Kim said with a straight face. My coffee mug fell to the ground with a loud clash. Coffee spilling everywhere. I guess it was loud enough to alert Namjoon. He stormed into the room with a look of concern. "Everything alright in here?" His eyes widening as he saw the coffee mug and my shocked face. "I'm gonna clean that up." He said and ran away to get cleaning supplies. Namjoon has always been a neat person and also very clumsy, so for him it nearly is a daily task to clean up messes. But he couldn't help me clean up the mess that is my life right now.
I woke up from my deep thoughts because Mr. Kim put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and asked me if I was okay. I just nodded.
Mr. Kim took a seat again and cleared his throat, probably to get my full attention. Folding his hands up on the table he looked at me. I couldn't decipher his look. Maybe pity? Anyways, I couldn't keep the farm even if I wanted to. I have to handle a company. Fashion Week is about to happen and I have enough stress in the city to just move up to the outskirts right now. It just couldn't happen, how could I possibly turn my life upside down.
"We have two options now, Miss. And I say We because I'll be there for you along the way, that is my duty and my job." He said. "Either you inherit the farm or we have to give it up for sale. Which would make the people of the bank really happy as they have been luring over this peace of land." Oh god, I'm not mentally stable enough to make such a decision. "What would the bank do with the farm?" I asked, basically already knowing the answer. "They would tear it down and build something on it, a shopping center, parking space, anything capitalistic." Mr. Kim and I met a few times before. He knew my parents well and has spent a week or two at our farm with his family. He has always been an honest person (so my father told me) and somehow has had a soft spot for our family since forever. "It would be a shame you know..." He said, his business voice now totally gone. He's speaking from his heart.
"A total shame to give up this beautiful farm. In the end it is your decision. But I know it was your parents dream and it is a peace of you. I will await your decision. I can only give you till tomorrow. I think this might help." He ushered a sheet of paper towards me. It was a letter in my fathers handwriting. Mr. Kim bowed and showed himself out, while I just looked at the last words my parents will ever address to me.
"Dearest Y/N,
If you read this, we'll probably be gone, but Nick/Name don't cry, you'll always be our baby. We know it will be hard for you, to live without us. Just as it would be hard for us without you. Of course we know that you are very busy. Our daughter the CEO and fashion designer of your own brand. We are so unbelievably proud. We still want you to inherit the farm, because you are the only one we trust with it. We wouldn't want you to give everything in your life up for the farm. Maybe you'll find a balance or a solution. You are our smart daughter. The bank has been on our backs, trying to buy the land from us, but we'll do anything to keep our dream alive. It still is the place we're you grew up. We'll fight for it. Please don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do...in the end you'll do the right thing.
Warnings: Two instances of NON CON, polyamory, established relationship, yandere behavior, pregnancy discussion, emotional abuse, violence, kidnapping, scandal, blood, degradation kink, mobbing, manipulation, profanity, group sex, oral, smut, cum play, groping
Word count: 19.58k
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.
This is an idol au setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.
Author’s note: This fic is set in an au where the boys are part of a 7-member boy band called the Biker Boys Squad (BBS) and everything that follows is completely fictional with no intended resemblance to actual places, bands or agencies.
Cover credit: @maleficosmos-2 ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ, ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸᵎ
─── ·❆· ───
The smooth roll of wheels outside had visibly no impact on the inside of the limousine. The shiny interior, complete with Italian leather and crystal wine glasses screamed luxury. The windows were completely tinted, reflecting the bright lights of every radiant storefront the car zoomed past.
The car smelt like heaven, a bouquet of smells fanning your nostrils and intoxicating you. Cologne, aftershave, hairspray, all the most delicious masculine smells danced around your senses, tugging at your inner coil that was slowly rearing its head up.
Namjoon was going through a little chit in his hand, mostly out of habit than necessity. He didn’t really depend on those notes, but it gave him a sense of security to know he had all the points in hand before stepping up to the mic.
“Hyung, add a line in English at the end for our International fans,” Taehyung said, peering over at the chit in Namjoon’s hand. The little note had words written in neat Korean letters, which the younger man glanced at.
“Yeah, will do, Tae,” the elder man responded, his hand reaching down to pat the head nestled in his crotch.
“Keep going, baby girl,” he said, gently ruffling your hair as he resumed scanning the chit. Taehyung and Jimin were sitting on either side of him, Jimin casually sipping the Cheval Blanc from his crystal glass, his pillowy pink lips made even glossier by the fine red wine.
You bobbed your head up and down Namjoon’s length, savoring his unique scent with your cheeks hollowed out around him, sucking deep and hard.
“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he hissed, too far gone to focus on his acceptance speech anymore.
Jimin smiled warmly, his hand snaking down to Namjoon’s lap. His fingers gripped your hair, and he tugged it gently, seeking control over your head. You obliged happily, letting him maneuver your head as he liked.
He slowly pushed you further and further down Namjoon’s shaft, his eyes trained on Namjoon’s face, watching his face twist in hunger. Jimin’s palm was flat against your skull, pushing you to gobble Namjoon’s cock without sparing an inch.
Yoongi was playing a game on his phone, and he looked up just in time to see you struggling against Jimin’s hand.
“Let her breathe, Jiminah,” he lazily scolded, his gummy smile out in full brilliance.
“N- no,” Namjoon panted, looking at Yoongi with pleading eyes. “So close- I’m so close.”
And with that, he groaned out loud, his hips bucking up subconsciously. He ground his body down to the leather seat, his legs trembling in the aftermath of his orgasm.
The hand pressing against your head stayed put, not budging until Namjoon’s legs stopped shivering. Namjoon leaned back and removed his glasses, wiping his hot forehead with a groan. The hand left your hair, moving down to caress your neck.
“Feeling good, hyung?” Jimin’s voice came to your ears like a song.
“You wouldn’t believe how good, Jiminie,” the elder man replied, his breaths coming out in strained intervals.
“Tch, baby…” Jimin said, handing you a Kleenex to wipe your mouth. “You left a drop on Hyung’s trousers.”
Namjoon snapped his head down, his eyes rolling when he saw the single blob of cum on his crotch.
“Damn, those paparazzi will roast us alive,” he murmured, reaching down to wipe it clean.
“No, Joonie,” you whined, hastening to dip your head back down on his crotch. Namjoon’s hand remained suspended in the air with his fingers grasping a tissue, his thigh muscles tensing up when you timidly licked a stripe on his expensive trousers, gathering the blob and sucking it up.
“Oh Y/N, you are so fucking naughty,” Jimin giggled, pulling you up so you could rest your knees.
“Come here, baby,” Yoongi said, his voice thick and raspy. He had waited patiently until Namjoon finished, and now he couldn’t wait a second longer.
Hoseok was sitting next to Yoongi, and the seats were somewhat cramped because four of them were sitting across from Namjoon. The limousine had been altered to their taste, but the seats were a bit smaller than needed.
“Here,” Jin extended his hand, pulling you so you could sit on his lap.
You took advantage of the brief moment to lock your lips against Jin’s neck.
“Hey, no hickeys,” he said, gently swatting at your shoulder. “It’s awards night. No hickeys.”
You puckered your lips up in disappointment. You were only pretending to bite him, just to see his eyes flash. Stern Jin was so fucking sexy.
Yoongi was in the far corner of the seat, and Jin being the smart guy he was, always found a solution.
“Lie down on our thighs,” he said, helping you sprawl yourself across the three sets of thighs, the tips of your toes resting on the owner of the fourth set.
Yoongi’s fingers worked quickly on his zipper, and Jimin’s clear voice teased, “Hyung, you’ll be wrinkling your Saint Laurent suit if you wiggle around too much.”
“Y/N is worth ruining a thousand Saint Laurent suits, Jiminah,” Yoongi quipped as he fished his dick out.
Jin’s long sensitive fingers drew soft circles on your calves, admiring your splendid legs. He brushed his fingers against the curve of your ass, finally settling down to squeeze and knead the firm flesh in his big palms.
The man next to Jin sighed heavily, looking out of the window and squinting through the tinted glass. He had a hard time trying to control himself, but the little toes that kept grazing his thighs distracted him. He bent his head, fighting himself to avoid looking at the sight around him. Of all the men in the limo, Jungkook was the only one who wasn’t staring at your body with simmering lust.
Yoongi was groaning, his hand fisting in your hair as he guided you to take him even deeper. He rested his head against Hoseok’s shoulder, closing his eyes and losing himself in bliss.
Hoseok gazed at Yoongi’s scrunched-up face with warm affection. He always felt supremely happy when Yoongi was having a good time. Your torso was laid on his lap, and he patted your back, encouraging you with soft whispers of praise.
“Yes, baby, that’s it keep going. You’re doing so good.”
Yoongi’s vein bulged alongside his cock, throbbing hard. He was straining so much, curling his toes inside his shoes.
“Gosh, I wanna get inside you,” he moaned, his voice coming out needy and whiny. Taehyung raised his eyebrows, whistling at his wristwatch.
“We’re gonna be on the red carpet in ten minutes, hyung,” he said, clucking his tongue. Yoongi opened his eyes, sending Jin his best pleading look right from his position on Hoseok’s shoulder.
Jin pursed up his pretty lips, looking down at your butt. It was not an easy feat to have full-on sex in the limo. As usual, he was the one who had to improvise a plan.
“Ten minutes is enough for a quickie,” Yoongi whined, his meat still lodged in your hot mouth.
“Okay okay, quit whining. Y/N baby, go sit on Namjoon’s lap,” Jin said, patting your ass. Namjoon looked up, removing his glasses and tucking them inside his breast pocket. He wished he had thought about asking Jin earlier.
You grinned and crawled over to Namjoon, cozying up with your back against his chest, his strong muscular arms spreading your legs wide open.
“All yours, hyung,” Namjoon said, nodding at Yoongi.
It was such a pretty sight to see your red lace undies completely soaked. Hoseok couldn’t hold on anymore, and his hand slipped down to palm himself through his pants.
Yoongi licked his lips, unbuckling his belt for better access. Your legs were already open for him, and Jimin had started caressing your clit with gentle touches. He crouched into a half-kneeling position, grazing his tip against your core.
“Please, just fuck me already,” you cooed, unable to bear Jimin’s teasing anymore. You had to have a cock inside you, it was urgent. Jimin was such a tease, and he enjoyed working you up into a frenzy.
Yoongi smirked, winking at Jimin and slamming his hips into yours, burying himself into you completely.
The car started slowing down, and Jin’s panicked voice rang behind Yoongi’s heaving form.
“We’re here, there’s so many cameras! Stop it, you two!”
Sure enough, there were hundreds of cameras outside, flashes going off every few seconds, waiting for the biggest boyband in the world to step out onto the red carpet.
Yoongi pounded into you harder, sweat running down his temples. He was growling with each thrust, the sound rumbling from deep inside his chest and sending a delicious thrill up your spine.
The car rolled to a stop, directly in front of the sea of people. Hushed murmurs were going around as everyone strained to peer through the tinted windows.
“What’s up? Why aren’t they stepping out?”
“Is something the matter?”
“Are you sure they are inside?”
A few reckless journalists tried to inch closer and glance through the windows. But the blinding camera lights reflected off the glass, completely blocking out the interior of the limousine.
Inside, Jimin hastened to pat down Yoongi’s streaming face, his nerves strung out completely. Yoongi buckled over and collapsed on Namjoon’s shoulder, blissed out at his climax. Jin grabbed him by the waist, pushing him back into his seat.
There was no time to be lost, and you got to work immediately, sucking Yoongi clean and zipping him up. You were just done tucking his shirt back neatly when one of the agency’s managers politely knocked on the door.
Looking up, you grinned at Yoongi, patting his knee.
“All done. Off you go, guys.”
You stayed back, keeping yourself hidden while the boys got out of the car one by one, smiling and waving at the crowd. The camera flashes multiplied manifold, clicking incessantly as the lenses gobbled up your boyfriends.
─── ·❆· ───
“I miss you,” you whined, pouting at your phone screen. Hoseok’s gorgeous face pouted too, as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.
“I miss you too, Y/N. Everyone does.”
A chorus of groans behind Hoseok declared their assent. Taehyung’s head popped into the screen, and he settled his chin over Hoseok’s shoulder.
“It’s so frustrating without you, Y/N.”
You sighed and shook your head sadly.
“I know, it’s the same here.”
“Hold up, Yoongs wants to talk,” Hoseok said, moving his phone and pushing it into Yoongi’s hand.
“Babe...” he drawled, only half-awake from his power nap. “Get on a flight and come over.”
You twisted the cord on the hoodie you were wearing.
“How? You guys are all so busy. You’re touring so many places. Besides, your schedule is jam-packed.”
Namjoon’s voice piped up from the background.
“I got an idea.”
─── ·❆· ───
“Are you sure this will work?” you asked, shimmying into the black uniform Namjoon had brought you.
“Of course. You can travel with us throughout the tour and no one will know.”
Taehyung whistled on seeing your outfit.
“You know hyung, I’m beginning to see why they call you the brain of our band.”
Namjoon chuckled, his dimples popping out.
“Yeah,” Jimin said, holding you by the shoulders and turning you over to let the others see. “This is brilliant.”
The white letters were stamped boldly on the back of your outfit.
‘BBS CREW’
Jin came closer, pinning an identity badge on the belt loop of your jeans.
“There. You’re officially a crew member now.”
There was a knock on the door, and you ran to hide behind the clothes rack.
“We’re all set,” a crew member said, gesturing that it was time to go on stage. “In five.”
She left the door half open, and you peeped out from behind the rack.
“Time to go?” you asked.
“Yep,” Jin said, gripping your hand. “Come with us.”
There were so many people wearing the same outfit as yours, milling around the backstage rooms. It was very easy to blend in.
You walked with the guys to the very entrance they would go through, heart fluttering to hear the thunderous welcome they received from the audience as they stepped on stage.
It was a terrific experience to stay so close to the stage and see them perform. It was even more astounding to watch the audience get enthralled in the magic your boyfriends created. You stood at the wings, your heart swelling with pride.
After a while, it was finally time for a break, and the guys made their way off stage. They were soaked in sweat, and were panting hard.
“Sprained my ankle,” Hoseok whispered, limping gingerly while Jimin supported him.
“Fan, please,” Yoongi groaned, and a crew member hurried to get him a mini fan.
People were running everywhere, stylists were dabbing touch ups to the makeup and assistants were helping the guys change into the outfits for the next routine.
You hurried to Hoseok’s side, kneeling beside him and taking his hand. A medic was tending to his sprain, and you squeezed his hand tenderly.
“You okay?” you whispered, and he managed a weak nod.
“Better rest this foot,” the medic murmured, to which Hoseok shook his head.
“No. Rest after the concert. Gotta dance.” He was clenching his teeth tightly.
A heavy hand gripped your shoulder, and you looked up. Namjoon was standing with a mini fan, sweat streaming down his face.
“He won’t listen to the medic,” you said in a low voice.
“I know,” he sighed, gently pulling you up to your feet. “Don’t worry too much. It’s like this all the time.”
You nodded, looking around. Everyone was holding mini fans and wiping their sweat off with towels. Yoongi was sprawled out on the floor, and a crew member was fanning him with a big cloth.
“This is hard,” you said, turning back to face Namjoon.
“Yes. But they’re all strong. They’ll handle it.”
You nodded again. This was something they were used to. It would take you some time to get used to it, though.
“Here,” Namjoon said, clasping your hand and walking towards the wings again. The audience were still energetic, doing the fan chant over and over until the guys would get on stage again. Their light sticks were glowing bright, lighting up the whole arena and making it feel as if the stars had rained down to watch the concert.
“See that?” Namjoon whispered, his voice taking on a tone of astonishment. “That’s surreal. So much love, so much energy. They’ve all camped out in the cold for two days. Forget us, imagine how much they’d have gone through to get here.”
You hummed in agreement, still lost in the beauty of the light sticks.
“That’s who we perform for,” Namjoon said, his voice warm and sincere.
You smiled and looked back at his shining face. His eyes were reflecting the radiance of thousands of light sticks.
“Stand by in three...” someone’s voice shouted, and all the guys shot up to their feet with exhausted groans.
They assembled in line again, ready to get on stage for the next performance. One by one, they hurried through the entrance, until everyone except Namjoon had gone back to the waiting area.
“Namjoon-ssi!” someone screamed in alarm, and you shook his arm to get him going.
“Go on, Joon,” you hissed, trying to push him into action.
He looked at you in a daze, and dipped his head urgently.
“Namjoon-ssi!” Another voice called out in emergency, when he cupped your chin and captured your lips in a frantic kiss.
You saw people running towards Namjoon out of the corner of your eyes. There were confused shouts, as the red digital timer counted down the seconds to cue the music.
In a quick flash, he broke the kiss and squeezed your hand, running over to join his mates on stage.
─── ·❆· ───
“Jinnie?”
The mischievous eyes twinkled at you when he replied with a coy “Hm?”
You were lying on his chest, content with listening to his heartbeat thudding away. When you raised your head to look at him, you placed your chin on his ribs, making him squirm and giggle.
“Y/N! It tickles!”
He was still laughing, trying to lift your pointy chin when your next words caught him off-guard.
“Jungkook was so sulky today.”
His laughter died down, the glee on his face replaced with an inscrutable emotion.
“Do you know why?” you pressed, not ready to leave it undiscussed. “He looked like-” you batted your lashes, “-like he was pissed off at us.” You drew a long breath. “Mostly at me.”
Jin was quick to cup your cheek, tutting at the last comment.
“Of course not, Y/N. He was probably nervous about the concert.” He could clearly see that you weren’t convinced. “I’ll talk to him about it.”
You nodded, lost in thought. Did Jungkook not want to be part of the relationship? He hadn’t kissed you or said a kind word to you in days. He had flinched hard when you had touched him earlier in the day. You were about to open your mouth and voice out your thoughts when the bed dipped beside you, and Taehyung’s large sinewy hands landed on your waist.
“Jin hyung, I need to cuddle Y/N to sleep,” he said, his sleepy voice deeper than it normally was.
You swallowed your words, forgetting your thoughts at the deep voice booming into your back. Jin hummed his acknowledgment to Taehyung, gazing at the ceiling in peace, content with having you draped on his chest.
The boys rarely closed their doors, because it was so normal for one or the other to pop into your room at night. You were in love with all of them, yes, but you always slept with Jin. He had been your first boyfriend, and it was a given that you would go to bed with him every night.
The rest of them dropped by sometimes, as Taehyung had just done. Sometimes it even led to threesomes and steamy hot sex. But tonight, you were content with the Jin-Taehyung sandwich. Because the boys were frequently in and out of the room, you left the door open at night.
A digital watch somewhere in one of the rooms lit up its iridescent digits, sounding a slight chime when it turned 2 am.
You were having a dream, and the sound interrupted it, waking you up. You had no desire to open your eyes. You lay with your eyes closed, listening to Jin’s even breathing in tranquil happiness.
Taehyung moaned slightly in his sleep, burying his head into your neck and crushing you tighter against his chest. His thick hair brushed against your skin, and you grudgingly opened your eyes.
It was so dark, and you made out Jin’s hand stretched towards you, in case you wanted to nestle into the crook of his armpit. You smiled to yourself, loving how sweet he was. You wanted to crawl into his arms, so you decided to move slightly.
You raised your head, and your sleep-heavy eyes caught sight of a figure sidling along the open door, the sudden apparition eliciting a strangled scream from deep within your bosom. You rubbed your eyes and squinted again, but the apparition had vanished.
“What? What is it?”
Jin was up in an instant, his groggy voice somehow soothing your anxiety. Taehyung woke up too, and between them, they asked you what had happened, and you pointed at the door with shaking fingers.
“I- think I saw someone. Something.”
Jin squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.
“Y/N, baby, what exactly did you see?”
Your nerves were shaken so bad you couldn’t raise your voice above a whisper.
“Someone- was watching… me. I only saw the eyes. And then- it- disappeared.”
Jin looked at Taehyung, the brief glance laden with meaning.
“Okay, I’ll go investigate. Taehyung, stay with Y/N.”
Jin got out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room in search of the mysterious apparition. Taehyung hooked his chin on your shoulder, hugging you protectively and blowing air softly on your neck. Jin was gone for a good ten minutes before he returned to the room.
“I did a thorough sweep, Y/N. There’s no one at the house except the guys.”
He climbed into the bed, pulling the sheets over his legs. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently.
“Don’t worry baby, even if he or she comes back, you’ve got two strong boyfriends in this room to protect you.”
God, Jin was so good at making you feel perfectly safe. You smiled and squeezed his hand back. Taehyung hummed behind you, agreeing to Jin’s words.
In a few minutes, Jin was peacefully breathing again, his hand resting on your waist. It was heavy, but the weight gave you reassurance.
─── ·❆· ───
“Yoongi!”
Hoseok’s morning routine included waking up his friend and kicking him out of bed. The guy was simply impossible to rouse, and the rest of the guys steered clear of his morning temper. He reserved a string of eloquent curses to fire at the unfortunate person who woke him up, intentional or otherwise.
Hoseok and you were the only ones immune to his foul mouth. Hoseok simply cursed back at him, and you had a completely different method of waking Yoongi up. A method that involved locking your lips around his morning wood and humming around it.
Today, however, you weren’t around to save Hoseok’s ears.
“Where the hell is Y/N?” Hoseok muttered to himself, ripping the sheets off the man curled like a kitten underneath. Yoongi had a large queen-sized bed, but he insisted on rolling into a ball when he slept. It was endearing to find him curled up like that, but the next moment he would hiss and scowl, cross at being woken up. That man certainly ran hot and cold so quickly.
Yoongi opened his mouth, ready to go off, when Hoseok pushed a pillow into his face.
“Save your breath. I’m gonna go find Y/N. Get your ass off the bed, hyung.”
The rest of the guys were up and about, chattering noisily and clattering dishes in the kitchen.
“WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU USE THAT PAN FOR THE EGGS?”
“Taehyung I swear to God if you break that plate…”
“Namjoon just flip the pancake, man you’re burning it!”
Hoseok waded through the noise, walking down the kitchen and crossing a suite of rooms. His sharp ears picked up your whimpers, and he followed the sounds, briskly trotting towards the source.
The door was half-open, and he stepped in, not bothering to knock.
“Goodness, what a racket!”
Jimin had you pinned up against the wall, your legs wrapped tight around his lithe body. One of his hands was around your neck, and the other was working on rubbing your clit. He had been ramming into you hard, and he jerked to a stop at Hoseok’s voice.
“Hobi hyung!”
Hoseok licked his lips when he saw your pretty little cunt filled to the brim with Jimin’s thick cock. He felt himself stirring in his pants.
“Such a noisy one,” he said, walking towards you. “I could hear her whining all the way in the kitchen.”
Jimin grinned, his eye-smile lighting up his face.
“I’m doing my job right then.”
Hoseok snickered, tracing his finger along the bridge of your nose, bringing it over your lips. You opened up obediently, sucking on his finger with closed eyes, still impaled on Jimin’s cock.
“You need something to stuff your mouth with, darling,” Hoseok murmured, and you nodded in agreement. He wasn’t satisfied though, and he glanced at Jimin, and the latter slipped out of you without a word.
“No,” you moaned around the finger, whimpering at the loss.
“Use your words like a good girl, baby,” Hoseok said, popping his finger out of your mouth. “Only then you’ll get Jimin’s dick back.”
You loved it when Hoseok was all riled up and ready to snap. He was delicious when danger oozed out of his persona, threatening you into submission.
“My mouth needs to be stuffed, Hobi,” you said, drawing the syllables out sexily.
“With what, baby?”
Jimin’s sly smile returned, and he bit his lip while he waited for your pretty lips to form the words.
“With your cock.”
“That’s right.”
Hoseok nodded at you, and Jimin set you down gently, untangling your legs from his hips. You went down on all fours, and Hoseok turned so his back was supported against the wall. He sunk his fingers into your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling your face towards his crotch.
You had learned the art of unzipping pants with your teeth, so it was easy to unzip him. Behind you, Jimin was spitting on his palm and stroking his length.
“Please,” you whispered, lust blinding you. “Please fuck me.”
The men grinned at each other, and with one savage push, Jimin sheathed himself inside you again. Hoseok had been slapping his dick against your cheek, and when you opened your mouth to moan at Jimin’s entrance, Hoseok took the chance to push himself inside your warm silky mouth.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand grabbing at your roots hard. “Beat that pussy hard, Jiminah.”
Between the two of them, they found a steady rhythm that let you get fucked on both sides without any lag. Jimin was going at it hard, slamming himself into you like it was his last day on earth. It was sinfully delicious to hear his angelic voice groaning loud with each thrust.
You moaned around Hoseok’s cock, tapping his thighs softly. He stopped abruptly, looking down at you in concern. He slipped out of your mouth gently.
“Yes, baby?”
You ran your finger on your lips, smearing his pre-cum all over your mouth. You knew it always drove him crazy when you did that.
“Hobi, sit on my face.”
A smirk spread on Hoseok’s face, and he chuckled lightly.
Jimin pulled your hips towards him, helping you lie down on the floor. Hoseok gently placed your head down, making sure you weren’t uncomfortable in the slightest. And then, he knelt so his thighs were on either side of your face, and dipped his pelvis down a bit, ghosting his weight on you.
You reached out and pulled his thighs closer, whining “Just sit on me please.”
He giggled, his whole body vibrating in mirth.
“Want me to teabag you, little slut?” He lowered himself down a little more. “Huh? Is that what you want?”
“Mmnnhhhh” you buried your face into his balls, and Jimin lay down flat on the floor, his face burrowed into your clit. His lovely lips clasped tight around your bud, his tongue working hard and fast to reduce you to a pool of wobbly jelly.
Above you, Hoseok grabbed his dick and pumped himself hard, dipping his balls in and out of your mouth all the while. He growled when you sucked on them and used your teeth to slightly graze them.
His hands roamed over your chest, gathering your breasts and massaging them. He saw Jimin eating you out at a feral pace, and a fresh pang of want made his dick throb. He aligned his cock between your supple mounds, starting to fuck your breasts while you suckled on his balls.
“Fuck, Y/N. You are a damn fucking goddess,” he breathed, picking up his pace and working his cock faster, amazed at how your breasts bounced so beautifully around him. His thighs started quivering, and you could feel his sweat beginning to moisten his skin. He was so close.
He ran his hands over your breasts and traveled down, leaning forward a bit, doubling up so that his face was in level with your navel. His hot breath sent all your nerves into overdrive, and he started kissing a line down to your belly button.
You moaned out loud, but the sound came out strangled because you had a mouthful of balls. Jimin felt you tremble and shake under him, and he smiled into your pussy. He worked his finger into you, curling and twirling proving even his fingers could dance.
You felt Hoseok’s tongue lick a hot circle around your belly button, and that was it for you. There were stars in your vision, and you trembled so hard that Jimin gripped your calves tight, helping you ride it out. Hoseok straightened his back, seeing you shake all over. He put his arm around your neck and held on to your shoulder, wiping your sweaty forehead and kissing your hand softly, cooing to you.
Jimin shot up the next moment, wiping his mouth and laughing that sweet tinkling laugh.
“Hyung, she squirted all over me!”
Hoseok had just finished shooting his cum all over your breasts, and you strained to look at Jimin.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Jimin.” Hoseok tilted his hips and you propped yourself up to look at the mess you had created. All of Jimin’s shirt, right from the collar to his torso, was soaked.
“I’m sorry... let me clean it,” you reached your hand out, and he simply swatted it away.
“What are you sorry for? Lie back down and let me eat your pussy again, baby.”
─── ·❆· ───
Eighteen months ago
“Jinnie,” you called, turning to face your boyfriend who was stuffing his face with noodles. You were fidgeting before the mirror, unsure what your boyfriend’s reaction would be.
“Huh, babe?” he asked, still busy scraping the last bits of noodles from the takeout box.
You quickly stole one last look at yourself in the mirror and then marched to the side of the bed. His suit was strewn over the white sheets, and he was in his boxers, slurping noodles like his life depended on it.
“Tell me if this dress is okay,” you said, standing directly before him.
“Why, that’s a lovely dress, you’re so pretty!” He paused to fan his mouth, the spice finally catching up to him. “Hot. Damn hot. You. And the noodles.” He fluttered his hands wildly, coughing dramatically.
You tossed a water bottle to him, giggling at his red face.
“So,” he said, sipping the water thankfully, “why do you even ask that? I bought that dress for you.” He scrunched his nose up, looking at you in mischief. “Are you doubting my taste?”
He got a well-aimed pillow thrown against his face, and he laughed.
“Why else would you ask?” he raised his voice like a bratty child.
“This.”
You pointed to your boobs, biting your lip. He pushed the cushion under his head, ogling at your body lazily.
“I don’t see anything wrong with your rack.” He smiled proudly to himself. “You look awesome.”
“But,” you sighed, nervously pulling at the fabric. “The neckline- it’s too deep.”
“So? It’s even more sexy.”
He didn’t seem to get it.
“Seokjin,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “What about the rest of the guys? What would they think? Isn’t this more... like… suitable for when we go on a date, alone, just the two of us?”
“Ah.” He finally understood what you were going on about. The dress had a very low neckline, and you found it weird that he had suggested you wear it to the party with his friends.
He cleared his throat as if he were going to say something. He opened and closed his mouth several times, not a sound escaping his lips.
“Y/N, listen. I need to tell you something. But can it wait until after the party?”
He saw the curiosity burning on your face, but you managed to nod.
“Also, don’t forget to wear the fishnet stockings I got you.”
You tilted your head and gazed at him, pursing your lips.
“Are you trying to show off before the guys, Kim Seokjin?” you asked, accusingly.
He shook his head, the smile never leaving his lips. “Just wear it to the party and I’ll tell you all about it later.”
———❖———
You were slipping your heels off, Seokjin was lending you his arm to balance yourself. He had looked stunning in his suit, and you had loved the way his eyes streamed while he joked and kept everyone in splits.
It was a very hush-hush party open only for the label’s artists and their dates. Seokjin didn’t have much privacy in his life, and he tried his best to take advantage of the precious few private parties that came his way.
“Careful,” he said, catching hold of your arm just before you slipped. “I don’t know what you get by torturing your feet like that.”
You simply giggled, pouting your lips at him. “You’re too tall, Jinnie. I need to be able to kiss you whenever I want.”
And there, you had done it. You had made the master of jokes blush so hard his ears turned red. He cleared his throat, his breadcheeks straining hard to contain his smile.
“Let’s go and have a drink.”
He tried to walk ahead, but you caught his sleeve and tugged.
“Jin, tell me what the big secret is,” you mewled, loving how good his toned arms felt. “You know, you said there’s something you had to say.”
He patted your knuckles, nodding sweetly.
“I know. That’s what I need the drink for.”
You huffed, watching him saunter over to the cabinet to pull a bottle of wine. He was so damn hot when he was in suits, but he was hotter when he was pulling his bow loose and mussing his hair. You followed him to the bedroom, tagging along like a lovesick puppy.
The rest of the chaotic group were drinking and fooling around in the living room, rocking the walls with their boisterous laughs. It wasn’t unusual for Jin to bring the boys over; they were always hanging around one time or the other.
“Ahem.”
You crossed your arms, and the gesture didn’t help Jin. Your boobs were squished together and the deep neckline made it impossible for him to focus. He licked his lips and took another sip of the wine to steady his nerves.
But Jin had such an easy relationship with you. He knew that he could talk to you about anything. He trusted you so much that he just knew what he was about to say wouldn’t break your relationship. He just needed to find a way to break the ice.
“Come here,” he murmured, patting his thigh. “Come sit on my lap.”
You glided towards him, settling down on his lap happily. Your cleavage was even closer now, and Jin just lost control.
He placed his glass down, not caring about staining the rug. With a deep moan, he pushed his face into your chest, burrowing into his favorite place in the world. He rubbed his face against the soft flesh, purring in delight.
You let him be, carding your fingers through his thick glossy hair. He would talk when he was ready. Meanwhile, you would enjoy your boyfriend’s attention contently. His teeth were grazing your skin now, sucking soft love bites to show his appreciation.
“Jin,” you breathed, and he lost it completely.
“Fuck, yeah. Say my name like that.”
He lifted his head to look into your eyes, and you saw the rich want coloring his pupils.
“Lemme inspect my girl,” he whispered, pushing his hand between your legs and feeling around for the familiar wetness of your undies.
“You’re soaking already, Y/N,” he groaned, and you saw his nostrils flaring. He gulped at the feeling, and his Adam's apple bobbed enticingly. It was the most beautiful sight ever.
His finger pushed the fabric aside, easily scooping up your essence. He looked straight into your eyes as he brought his digit to his lips and licked it, curling his pink tongue and making your insides clench.
Jin was blessed with long bony fingers, and they were a bit crooked too. A fact he took huge pride in. Because it allowed him to do things to your pussy that no one else could. He slid one finger inside you, drinking in how bothered you looked.
With a soft groan, you parted your legs wider to give him better access. His finger pumped in and out of you, drawing strangled moans from your shaking body. He slowly increased his pace, never taking his eyes off you.
“J-Jin..”
He slid another finger in, and this time his crooked bony fingers found your happy place and pushed against it, reducing you to a whimpering mess on his lap. He never stopped, his chest puffing with pride when he saw how you came undone on his fingers.
“Wanna cum?” he asked, and you nodded vigorously. His grin made an appearance again.
“You gotta ride me first, baby.”
Smiling impishly, you tore the jacket off his shoulders in one swoop. His shoulders were so wide, and you loved grabbing onto them when you rode him. The white dress shirt underneath had gold-plated buttons, winking at you. Seokjin certainly deserved to be dressed from head to toe in gold.
You could hear the boys knocking things around in the living room, and the little wildcat in you reared its head. You liked the thrill of riding Jin with his friends just outside the room. Jin might never guess it, but you wouldn’t even mind if one of the guys actually walked in on you bouncing on your boyfriend’s cock.
Snaking your hand down to his crotch, you unzipped his pants and fished his dick out. He was rock-hard. Jin always had loads of glossy pre-cum, and you slowly worked his juices all over his shaft, stroking him. He grabbed your wrist, his plush lip caught between his teeth.
“Sit on me.”
You gladly obliged, shifting your hips and hovering over him. He pushed your undies aside with his thumb, and you slid down his length, sheathing him completely. Once he was fully in, you rotated your hips, drawing sharp curses from his pillowy lips.
“Ah shit, Y/N. That’s it. Faster, go faster.”
You picked up your pace, holding on to his broad muscular shoulders and bouncing as fast as you could. Jin usually wanted to see your breasts when you rode him. That day, however, he made no effort to undress you. The red fabric was bunched up unceremoniously around your waist, but your breasts were still clothed.
“Oh gosh, Y/N, allow me….”
He grabbed your hips, pushing himself off the bed and thrusting up into you. You let him take over, squeezing his shoulders and letting him rail you as he pleased.
Jin loved the whimpers escaping your dirty little mouth, the sounds egging him on to ruin you completely. He pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling your ears like a crescendo.
“Like my cock stretching you, huh?” He panted between his thrusts. His stamina was out of the world.
“You’re my little cockpuppet, aren’t you?”
His words always had the effect of reducing you to putty. That man had such a filthy mouth, one he was only too happy to unleash on you.
“Oh goddamn, Jin!”
You knew he was close; the taut flesh of his abdomen was quivering with the stirrings of a powerful orgasm. Your fingers clawed into his broad shoulders just in time.
Jin sounded nothing like his ordinary self when he cummed. He had a special sex voice that only you had the privilege of hearing. He moaned out loud, growling like an animal in pain as he shot all his seed inside your walls.
You could feel his cock pulsate inside you, twitching as your pussy milked him for all his worth. His breaths came out in hot pants, beads of sweat rolling down his temples.
“Feeling good, baby?”
He looked into your eyes, and you smiled happily at him.
“Never been better.”
The soft breadcheeks stretched into a smile. Damn, he was so beautiful when he smiled like that.
You hooked your finger under his chin.
His finger was tracing circles over the fishnet stockings, and you raised an eyebrow naughtily.
“Since when are you into fishnets?”
He chuckled slowly, chewing his lip.
“It wasn’t exactly for me... Remember when I said I had something to tell you?”
You huffed in impatience, gripping the hair at the base of his neck and peering at him curiously.
“Come on! Tell me. Now.”
He looked down at where both your hips joined. He slid his softening dick out of you, and you silently helped him tuck himself back into his pants.
The sound of the zipper closing shattered the silence. He bit his lip and peered into your eyes.
“Y/N,” there was a slight shake in his voice. “Have you ever…” His pink tongue darted out to lick his lips. “What do you think of…”
You blew out your cheeks. It was unusual for your ever-confident boyfriend to sound so doubtful.
“Just say it, Jinnie.”
He took a deep breath, and ran his fingers up your thigh, gathering his thoughts.
“Y/N baby, you sometimes moan in your sleep.”
You smiled at him playfully.
“What do I moan?”
He knotted his eyebrows and sighed softly.
“You moan the names of the other members.”
The smile froze on your face, your heart steadily dropping in your chest. It felt like someone had shoved a giant block of ice down your throat.
“I- I didn’t mean to… It wasn’t…”
Jin saw the panic on your face and shook his head hastily.
“Hear me out, Y/N.” He reached his palm to cup your cheek. “Wait, listen.”
He hadn’t meant to make you feel guilty in the slightest. He shushed you and blurted the words out:
“I meant to ask what you thought about sharing.”
You wrinkled your forehead in confusion.
“Sharing what?”
He wiggled his nose, carefully looking at your reaction as he said the words:
“Sharing you with the other members. Like- like a poly relationship.”
Your jaw dropped, and you regarded your boyfriend with a wary look. Was he really suggesting that? Or was it a snide question? You knew the Jin you loved would never be mean to you. He was too straightforward and blunt to beat around the bush.
“Are you… really asking me?”
His finger traveled up your face and traced your cheekbone.
“Of course I am. You can tell me no if I crossed a line.” He paused for a second.” I genuinely want to know if you’d like it.”
You bunched his shirt up in your fists, scared of what would happen next. Would he hate you if you said “Yes”? Would he feel inadequate? Would he feel like he’d been cheated on?
It was a while before you found your voice.
“Am I going to lose you?”
His face became serious.
“Why would you? Of course not! Baby, I’m the one suggesting it.”
He was suggesting it? The thought made your head spin. It was all too raw to process.
“Are you drunk, Jinnie?”
You knew he wasn’t. Your boyfriend had an extremely good tolerance for alcohol. He shook his head without taking his eyes off your face.
“Don’t worry, I am not. And no, I am not going to back out in the morning.”
He really was serious. You chewed on your lips, gazing at his open face.
“And- the guys, how will you talk to them about… this?”
He bit the inside of his cheek, his rare dimple peeking at you.
“I may have already talked about it with them.”
You drew back in horror.
“What?!”
He shifted his hips into a more comfortable position. He had talked about it with his guys, and they had been open to trying it if you really wanted it. Jin knew how your mind worked, and he was sure you’d want to try at least once.
“Sh, Y/N. It’s all up to you now. No one will judge you for it. I know the guys. They all adore you. Just tell me if you want to try this.”
Your hands flew to your hot face in a poor attempt at hiding yourself. Jin’s big palms caught your wrists.
“Don’t hate me,” you whined, your voice so low it was close to breaking.
———❖———
Jin held your hand tight as he guided you to the living room. The six other guys were boisterously arguing about something. A sudden hush blanketed the noise as soon as Jin ground to a halt in the middle of the room.
You refused to look up, staring at the rug like your whole body would ignite and go up in flames if you did.
“Let’s go to the guest bedroom,” Jin said, addressing the men in the room. He jerked his head at them and turned on his heel, pulling you with him.
The bedroom was the biggest in your apartment, and it housed two queen-sized beds. You had originally intended to rent it out to your friends before your boyfriend came along.
Jin drew the blinds and returned to your side, tapping his foot on the floor gently. One by one, the guys made their way into the room, forming a semicircle around Jin and you.
They were all still in the suits they had worn to the party. Granted, a few ties and bows were loosened and some suits were specked with pizza crust. But they looked just as fucking handsome as ever, disheveled or otherwise.
Everyone looked slightly nervous, and they waited for someone to break the ice. Namjoon, used to his role of the leader, took the lead naturally.
He cleared his throat, glancing at you.
“Y/N, I… um… understand this is all new, but…”
Jin stared at Namjoon, silently urging him to use his eloquent mouth to come up with something more confident.
Namjoon took a step forward, his palms open to in an attempt to instill trust.
“We all love you so much, and I assure you that there’s nothing to be worried about.”
The rest of the group nodded in silence, and you looked at Namjoon through lowered lashes. This was so surreal. Was it all a dream?
Jin squeezed your hand, and you squeezed it back. Gosh, this was so real.
You saw the polished tips of Namjoon’s shoes advance towards you.
“If you say no, we’ll leave this room and forget that this ever happened. We’d understand.”
God, no. You couldn’t say no. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t want them. But how was it all true? How did all seven of them like you back? Was it right to even think about it?
“No,” you saw the tips of Namjoon’s shoes stop abruptly on the floor.
“No," you repeated, "I can’t say no.”
The gleaming shoes hesitantly made their way towards you again.
He stood directly in front of you, and Jin let go of your hand. A sudden feeling of panic rose up your chest, but it disappeared when Jin’s hand reached to grip your shoulder lightly.
Namjoon reached his hand out, saying,
“Is it okay if I do…” He rested his palm against your hip, “…this?”
You gulped and nodded, staring into his chocolate eyes.
He gently squeezed your hip, watching you in rapt attention.
“And this?”
“Yes,” you breathed out shakily.
“You’re wearing fishnets,” Namjoon noted with barely contained eagerness, and you saw Jin cheekily nod his head at his band mate.
“Just how you like it, huh?” Jin teased, winking at Namjoon, who blushed in return.
Namjoon’s hand slipped around your waist, and he murmured in a soft voice, “Is it alright if we move closer to the bed?”
You nodded your head in a daze.
“Uh-huh.”
The rest of the guys parted, breaking the semicircle and making way for you. It really was happening. The thudding in your ears grew louder and louder.
Namjoon sat down on the edge of the bed and patted his lap.
“Come sit, honey.”
You turned and looked at your boyfriend, seeking reassurance before you let yourself go completely. Jin nodded his head and winked, a little smile playing on the edges of his lips. Drawing a shaky breath, you climbed into Namjoon’s lap, feeling incredibly self-conscious.
“We can stop anytime you want,” Namjoon said, gazing earnestly at your face. “Do you want to continue?”
You bit your lip and looked at the men clustered around you. This was it.
“Yes, I want to.”
A barely audible sigh escaped Namjoon’s lips. Had he been holding his breath too? Was he nervous too? Nothing about his persona gave away his nervousness. His fingers were steady, so was his voice. He had an aura of confidence in every move.
“Are you sure, baby? You are okay with this?”
“Yes... oh yes, please.”
The last word was drawn into a needy whine, and Taehyung chuckled from across the room. A few of them were sitting on the other bed, watching the events unfold. Jin was standing at the foot of the bed, his hawk eyes never leaving you. Yoongi was leaning against the wall, looking unbothered. But only he knew the way his stomach was doing backflips, the thought of having you leaving him shaking in his shoes.
Namjoon gently cupped your jaw, pulling you in and brushing his lips softly against yours. His other hand roamed over to your shoulder blade, a finger hooking under the spaghetti strap. Taking his sweet time, the man peeled the strap off your shoulder, his hand moving to free the other strap as well.
“Ready?”
His whisper was full of lust, and you nodded in urgency. With one fluid tug, he pulled the top of your dress down towards your waist, leaving your lace push-up bra for all the men to see. There was a sharp gasp from somewhere in the room, but you were far too gone to identify who it belonged to.
Your eyes flitted over to Jin’s, and you saw him looking straight at your chest, enthralled. He didn’t look the least bit concerned. Rather, he seemed to be enjoying it, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he gulped at the sight.
There was a deafening silence in the room, it was almost unbearable. Namjoon’s hand roamed over to your thigh-high stockings, and his long index finger slipped under the elastic band, dragging sinful lines along your skin.
He sighed darkly, admiring the way your legs looked. He had only mentioned to Jin about his kink for fishnets in passing. He couldn’t believe Jin had remembered.
His other hand was on your back, his fingers hooked under the clasps of your bra.
Deftly, with just two fingers, he undid the clasps, ridding your skin of the offending fabric.
The cold air in the room coupled with the sudden nakedness gave you such a rush, so much that all the fine hair on your skin stood up in goosebumps. There were a few groans around you, and it became so hard to sit still on Namjoon’s lap.
“Make sure she’s feeling comfortable,” Yoongi murmured from his position against the wall, his palm resting ever so slightly on his bulge.
“Here,” Yoongi said, moving towards you and stooping to look into your eyes. “Are you feeling okay, Y/N?”
You nodded, too enthralled in his brilliant black eyes to answer.
He dropped his voice lower, sliding a finger along your jawline.
“Tell us what you want.”
Your nipples were so hard, painfully neglected by not one but seven men in the room.
“I-” You looked at Namjoon, and gripped your hip gently, running his tongue over his plump lips. “-just, can you all take your shirts off?” Your naked torso was in stark contrast to their suits, and you were hyper aware of it.
Jungkook’s little giggle reached your ears, and you sighed in relief as one by one, all the suits and dress shirts came off, revealing sculpted chests and hard, taut abs.
God, Jin was fucking ethereal when he was naked, you always had to remember to breathe when he undressed. But now, right in front of you, seven sons of Aphrodite were offering you their shirtless bodies, letting you feast your eyes on godly perfection.
Namjoon’s bare chest heaved perfectly in harmony with yours, the warmth of his body seeping into your pores.
“Please…” you whined, needy for attention. “Please touch me.”
Yoongi groaned, rubbing his face against your neck, and starting to press kisses down your shoulder blades.
Namjoon nodded at the rest of them, and slowly everyone moved towards you, crowding around you like children around an ice cream truck. One strong arm pulled you, so you were sitting sideways on Namjoon’s lap, providing better access to the others.
Jimin dove straight into your chest, attaching his mouth to your breast and suckling eagerly. He gobbled up as much of the flesh as he could into his little mouth, earning shaky moans that spilled out of your lips.
Namjoon’s finger pushed your underwear away, dipping into your core and curling a bit. He popped out his dimples, smirking hard at Jin.
“Guys, hyung has already marked his territory.”
Jin’s ears went red, and he stammered out while waving his hands,
“It’s nothing like that! It’s just impossible to resist her.” He paused, looking down and grinning at you before adding, “You’re all gonna discover that soon enough.”
You giggled, catching sight of his red face and puckered lips. Jimin was still attached to your chest, working his devilish tongue on your breast.
“Show some love to the other tit too,” Jin said, and everyone chuckled, the tension in the air evaporating completely.
Soon enough, Jungkook’s veiny hand was kneading your other breast, and everyone closed in on you, their eager hands running all over your body, sending you tumbling into bliss.
─── ·❆· ───
Present day
“Yoongs?”
He was hunched over some sheets of music, his nerdy glasses making him look wise and serene.
“Huh?”
He removed his glasses, running his hand through his shock of black hair, mussing it up. A genuine smile lit his face up when he looked at you.
“Yeah, baby?”
You knew he was busy, producing music for one of his collabs. But he had asked you to hang out with him in the studio. And that was when Jungkook had entered, his face hostile and sullen, passing by to drop some of Yoongi’s lyric sheets. He had practically glowered at you, slamming the door behind him unnecessarily loud.
“Um, do you think Kook is mad at me?”
He looked surprised.
“No, why would he be?”
You hadn’t the faintest idea why. But something was up. You knew that. You had tried multiple times to talk to Jungkook, but he had just shrugged and slipped out of your efforts to light up a conversation.
“I think he doesn’t like this.” It had been a thought that had started out as doubt, but Jungkook’s behavior made the doubt grow stronger and stronger until you were subconsciously convinced that it was the reason.
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows.
“He doesn’t like what?”
“This.” You flung your arms out, tracing the air, frustrated. “Maybe he doesn’t really want to be in this relationship? I tried talking to him many times, but he just won’t speak to me.” You pursed your lips. “It has been weeks since he even smiled at me.”
“Y/N,” Yoongi drawled, reaching to pull you closer. “You know he loves you. We all do. He’s probably overworked and exhausted. Try talking to him after some time, you know?”
You nodded absently, thinking of how Jungkook had sprung up like a startled cat and stomped out of the room while you were watching a movie with all the guys. Just because you had placed a hand on his thigh.
There was something off about Jungkook. But he shut up like a clam, choosing to slip out of the way whenever you tried to talk to him.
“Y/N?”
You snapped back to focus on Yoongi. He was partially right. They were all working their asses off for the new album. You would talk to Jungkook later.
“Okay, babe,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. Your hand reached for the phone.
11:21 pm.
Yoongi had made lunch reservations for both of you. You still had plenty of time.
“You get going on that sexy producer thing you do,” you said, cozying down on his sofa. “We still have some time on our hands.”
So back he went, his serious face poring over the sheets of music sprawled on his table. Yoongi probably didn’t realize, but he looked like a grumpy kitten when he was concentrating hard on something.
You smiled at his bent head, swiping on your phone to check for emails from work. There were none. Good. Maybe you could scroll through Pinterest for new design ideas. You worked for an ad agency as a graphic designer. You had to always be on the lookout for new stuff.
The endless stream of pictures was flooding your feed, and your finger was trying to catch up. Ding. The notification chime wasn’t usually enough to distract you. But this time, it held the title you just couldn’t resist. It was a YouTube notification from your favorite graphic artist.
You were halfway through the video when the suggested section caught your eye. An involuntary chuckle shook your chest when you read the title.
“Boy band BBS talk about DATING and SECRET GIRLFRIENDS?!!”
It was classic clickbait. Something everyone seemed to be doing for views. You knew it was just a clip from the Red Carpet of the MTV Music Awards. You still remembered the hickey you had given Hoseok that had forced him to wear a turtleneck under his suit. Delicious times.
You had watched that video already, but something just pulled you towards the video. You would never tire of re-watching your seven gorgeous boyfriends slaying the red carpet.
Sure, you were right. It was just a clip that everyone who had followed the awards had already seen. The familiar questions about collabs, celebrity crushes, favorite food, every question your boyfriends were already tired of but answered anyway, made up the first 4 minutes. Click bait much?
“Haha we have all the love in the world, we have our fans,” Namjoon was saying, his sweet little dimple flashing at the camera.
“But,” the redhead insisted, her dazzling smile widening. “You boys have any secret dating lives we aren’t privy to?”
The answer was already in the question. No one was supposed to be fucking privy to that information. You pursed your lips, waiting for Namjoon’s sassy reply to tumble out of his lips.
“We wanna focus on our careers, we don’t have time to date,” he said, a small lilt of mockery creeping into his voice.
Damn, you had teased him mercilessly that night, bratty about him saying ‘not having time.’ You remembered how he had begged to lay a finger on you, and a satisfying warmth spread over your belly.
The video was ending, and you grinned at Namjoon’s closeup fondly. But just before the replay button came on, you caught onto something odd.
You had been scrolling down, and a few comments had popped up in your line of vision. People were screaming about how dazzling their bias looked, or how proud they were of the boys. But there were a few ones written by hawk-eyed fans.
“not at how bored JK got of the question at 6:48 lmao he’s so pissed”
“damn, was it just me, or did JK actually ROLL his eyes sfakjfkjfk hahaha”
What?
You hit the replay button, dragging the seeker to the last few seconds of the video.
There, glowering with mad eyes, stood Jungkook. He was well behind Namjoon, a bit out of focus around the 6:45 mark. He had put on a charming smile throughout the video. Until the host popped the dating question, at least.
For anyone else, it would seem like Jungkook was bored with the question. But you knew his quirks. He had been casually gazing at the camera, letting Namjoon answer the host’s questions. The word “dating” left the host’s lips, and Hoseok lightly touched his turtleneck at the exact time when Jungkook’s expression flattened out to a cold hard stare. He rolled his eyes ever so subtly, his face turned sideways. He had been annoyed.
Annoyed at Hoseok that he was reminded of who he was dating. Annoyed that the question had reminded him of the hickey his turtleneck was covering. More like disgusted. Disgusted at what exactly? At the host for asking that question? Or- was it at what dating meant to the eight of you?
“Y/N, babes?”
Yoongi’s voice finally reached your ears, and you looked up in a daze.
“Huh?”
He scratched his head, his other arm supporting the jacket casually flung over his back.
“I said we can go. We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”
Oh, the lunch. You had totally snapped out of focus.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” you said, jumping up and slipping into your shoes. Yoongi watched you closely, a bit concerned.
“Are you alright, Y/N? You look... odd.”
You debated if you should tell him what was bothering you. But you didn’t want to ruin the date with your speculations. You’ll talk about it to your boyfriends after you had enough time to sort your feelings.
You would have to tackle Jungkook and his surly temper later.
─── ·❆· ───
“How’s the track shaping up, hyung?” Taehyung asked, pouring more wine into Yoongi’s glass. You were cozily settled between Yoongi’s thighs, the warmth of his chest on your back.
“Hm, I worked out most of the chords,” Yoongi returned, picking up his refill and taking a sip. “But I still have some more work to do, especially with the bridge.”
You hummed contentedly, listening to your boyfriends discuss music, sprawled on the floor around the coffee table. It was lovely, watching their serious faces talk about what they loved and lived for. The door opened, and Jungkook walked in, clutching his sports bag.
He mumbled an “I’m home,” directed at his friends, before turning to kick off his shoes.
“…and before I knew it, the time had flown like… phew!” Yoongi was saying, while you eyed Jungkook’s bag. He had been going to the boxing ring too often these days. What was up with him? His hair was damp, and his face was flushed.
“…and then I bundled Y/N up into the car and we rushed off,” Yoongi said, and there it was again. You had been watching Jungkook’s face, and at the mention of your name, the annoyance - no, the disgust flashed across his features. He scoffed to himself, unaware of your attention. It wrenched your heart to see that, and you looked away.
Jungkook picked his bag up again and stormed towards his room. You watched his retreating back, only half-listening to Yoongi’s praise for the lobster frittata.
“You guys keep talking, I’ll be back,” you said, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek.
“Uh-huh,” Taehyung purred, craning his neck and offering his cheek for you to kiss too.
“Clown,” you giggled, dropping him a kiss, and giving him a playful shove. “I’ll be gone just a sec, don’t miss me,” you said, winking and jumping up to your feet.
You had to talk to Jungkook and ask him just what his problem was. You just couldn’t bear his sourpuss charade any longer.
———❖———
Loud music hit you in the face as soon as you opened the door to Jungkook’s room. The guys never bothered to close their doors, but Jungkook had lately started closing his. Another red flag waving right under your nose.
He was on the floor, doing pushups and grunting out at the exertion. His sinewy arms were trembling, and he had changed to shorts that revealed his muscular thighs shining with sweat.
The guy certainly was on the fast track lane to exhaustion.
“Jungkook,” you called out, straining your voice to be heard over the blasting music. “Hey! Can you hear me?”
He went on exercising without any acknowledgment, so you stormed to the stereo and turned it off with a click.
“What the fuck?” he growled, snapping his head up before he caught sight of you.
“Well, you couldn’t hear me,” you said, crossing your arms and standing your ground.
“Of course I could,” he sneered, getting up to his feet and wiping the sweat off his chin. “I chose to ignore it.”
Your eyes widened in disbelief.
“Are you serious right now? You ignored it? What is that supposed to mean?”
He picked up his towel and started dabbing at his forehead, not even sparing you a glance.
“What do you want, Y/N? Why are you here instead of sucking Yoongi hyung’s dick?”
Your jaw dropped.
It was completely out of character for Jungkook to be so prickly. He was always the sweetest and goofiest man out of the lot. What had gone wrong?
“Jeon Jungkook, you dare not speak to me that way,” you said, bristling. “What is up with you? You are so sullen whenever I try to spark a convo.”
He scoffed and threw his towel down. His face was a strange mix of anger and disgust. You couldn’t understand what had ticked him off so bad.
“What is up with me? You tell me, because you’re so smart, Miss. Perfect.”
He crossed his arms and puffed his chest, using his height to his advantage to stare you down.
You huffed in impatience, stressed at his refusal to be drawn out. You had to simmer down and try to make him say what was bothering him.
“Jungkook, tell me why you’ve been so pissy lately. What did I do, to make you so upset? Just tell me.”
He glowered at you, the tips of his ears going red as he clenched his teeth.
“Good question. What didn’t you do?” His eyes swept over your clothes, taking in the wine splotch on your shorts. He averted his eyes, staring at his treadmill instead. “Whose cum are you leaking this time?”
The question was almost inaudible, but the spite in it had already reached you and poisoned the air in the room.
You stood rooted to the spot, shock numbing your senses.
“Did you just-” you struggled to keep the quiver in your voice under control. “-say that…”
You had never been in a real fight with any of your boyfriends, and this was a cold punch to your gut. You had only had the occasional bickering and loads of makeup sex after every disagreement. But this was new. This was raw, palpable and spiteful, and left a bitter taste in your mouth.
You waited for him to rush and say something, to explain and say he didn’t mean it that way. Just anything really.
But he didn’t clarify or even attempt to take his words back. He simply stood there, glaring into your eyes in contempt.
The YouTube video flashed before your eyes. The disgust in his face when he even thought of dating. When he thought of you. The thought crept steadily into your chest, twisting and crushing your heart. He resented you. He resented the relationship.
When you opened your mouth to break the heavy silence, your voice came out in a whimper.
“If you didn’t want to be in this relationship, you could have said so. No one forced you into it.”
He didn’t reply, choosing to glare at his treadmill in stony anger. You went on.
“If I’m keeping you from finding someone else or dating other better people, you could just say so. Instead of insulting me like this.”
He snapped his head to face you, fury painting his face red.
“What the fuck are you going on about?”
“Please, Jungkook,” you said, scoffing and masking the low sob that threatened to escape your chest. “You resent being with me. You can’t even stand me. You don’t have to stay and feel trapped in this relationship. You think- you think-“ You bit your lip, “-you think I’m a slut. You could have just declined to be part of this. None of us forced you.”
His eyes went wide in shock.
“Why would you say that? That’s not fucking true.”
“Are you screwing with me, Jungkook? You don’t even look at me anymore. You cringe when I touch you. Do you think I’m blind to not see how much you hate being in the same room as you? You haven’t kissed me or spoke a kind word to me in weeks.”
He sighed hard, running his hand through his hair. When he spoke, his voice was soft.
“You’ve got it all wrong.”
You weren’t going to cry; you weren’t one to break down so easily. But there was a strange sadness in your tone when you asked,
“Do you love someone else? Are you feeling- trapped with me…with the rest of us?”
He grimaced, the steely look coming back to his features. He shook his head in despair, straining visibly to keep his calm.
“No. What do you… No, what the hell? Of course not. You’ve got it all fucking wrong.”
“Enlighten me then. Spit it out, Jungkook. I’m not a mind reader.”
Taehyung’s voice drifted from the living room, in a muffled sing-song tone:
“Y/N! Starting to miss you here!”
Jungkook’s lip curled, and he stomped to slam the door shut with a bang. He turned to face you, hot rage clouding his eyes.
“This. It’s this. I can’t bear this anymore.”
You had no idea what he was talking about. But you hated loud noises, and the loud slam had pissed you off.
“What exactly is this this you’re talking about?”
He scrunched up his face impatiently.
“God, Y/N. You just- you’re so oblivious all the time.”
This was getting nowhere. He was talking in circles, and you weren’t going to humor him anymore. The slam of the door had already set a headache off, and your patience was wearing thin.
“Just say it already. I’m not interested in guessing games.”
He buried his face in his hands, clawing at his skin. When he looked at you again, you could see the vein in his forehead stand out.
“I can’t do this anymore. This is so stupid. It’s such a dumb idea. I don’t like this. ”
There it was. Out in the open.
“So, you want out? Are you breaking up with me? I already told you that no one is forcing you to stay. And you told-”
“Shut up, Y/N. Just shut up.”
You stopped, jaw open at his interjection. He shook his head, and you could see his nostrils flaring.
“Y/N, I love you. Okay? Don’t be silly.”
“What? Why the fuck do you keep contradicting yourself, Jeon Jungkook?”
He sighed and pulled your wrist, dragging you to the wall. He trapped you between his arms, pressing his warm body against yours, dominance lighting up his feral eyes.
“I want you to be mine. Just mine.” He sighed again, and his hot breath fell on your lips. “I can’t share you.”
“But- “
Your words were cut off abruptly, as his lips crashed into yours, silencing any words that were bubbling up in your mouth.
His kiss was hot and desperate, as if he was scared to stop. Scared that you would say something that would break his heart if he released your lips. The corner of his lip was trembling, and he bit into your lips to hold on just a little longer.
He had strong muscly arms, and they were crushing you relentlessly.
“Stop…” you breathed, pushing against his chest. “Jungkook, stop”
“No,” he moaned, whimpering with closed eyes. “Y/N, please…”
You pushed harder and violently struggled in his grasp until he had no choice but to let you go. Shoving him away, you spat at him with wet lips.
“Jungkook, this is a polyamorous relationship. You know it doesn’t work that way.”
He threw his hands up to hold the sides of his head, a painful look on his face.
“I can’t… it’s not fair. I can’t even stand the thought of the other guys touching you. Kissing you.” He grimaced. “Or fucking you.”
It was your turn to grimace.
“It’s not fair? I’m not just yours. You knew this when you got into this relationship. Jin is the one- “
He snarled and raised his voice cutting you off.
“He’s responsible for this fucking mess. He’s so fucking selfish, and …and…”
“Stop right there, Jeon Jungkook,” you said, your voice raising to a shout. “Don’t you dare call him selfish. He’s nothing but supportive of sharing. Don’t you dare.”
Jungkook kicked the treadmill’s frame, losing his temper.
“He stole you from me. He fucking betrayed me!”
“Don’t be delusional, Jin was my boyfriend longer than any of you.”
“HE STOLE YOU FROM ME!!!”
You flinched at his loud voice, pressing a finger to your throbbing temple. Clutching the sides of your head, you walked away from him.
“I’m outta here. I can’t listen to your deluded screams anymore.”
You stomped to the door, turning the knob to get out. But Jungkook was quicker, and he reached the door to block you from opening it.
“Let me go,” you said, speaking through clenched teeth.
“No,” he said, leaning his back against the door and glowering at you. “Fucking listen to me, Y/N.”
You had no other choice, so you folded your hands and glared at him in stony silence.
“I was the one who fell for you first. I told Jin hyung that I was in love. He told me I was too young, and that it would damage the band’s reputation, and that I would lose all our female fans if the word got out. He convinced me that it wasn’t wise to date.”
You didn’t reply, choosing to scowl instead. He angrily went on.
“And then imagine my surprise when he went ahead and asked you out. And you betrayed me by falling for him.”
Your scoff interrupted his flow.
“I’m sorry, I betrayed you? Have you gone crazy?”
“It would have been me if Jin hyung hadn’t stolen you from me. I would have been your boyfriend, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let any other guy lay a finger on you.”
The disgust in his tone annoyed you to no end.
“Has it ever occurred to you that I chose Jin? Do you think you could just turn back time and replace him? Are my feelings that insignificant to you?”
He shook his head urgently.
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
“And did you tell Jin that you were in love with me? Did you explicitly say my name?”
“No, I- I told him I was in falling for someone. I didn’t say your name,” he mumbled. “But he ought to have known, you were the only girl in my life at that time.”
You blew your cheeks in exasperation.
“Did you think he could fucking read your mind? You’re being so damn stupid, Jungkook.”
He whined again.
“He ought to have known. He knew I liked you very much.”
“He was just looking out for you! He didn’t ‘betray’ you. Why the hell did you agree to be in this relationship then, if you were so against sharing?”
Pain flashed across his face once more.
“Because there was no other way to be in your life. I gritted my teeth and bore it so long just to have a part of your heart. But…”
You tapped your foot, waiting for him to continue.
“…But I can’t share anymore. It kills me to see them look at you that way. It just…kills me.”
There was no response ready on your tongue for that. You had never expected such a situation to arise. You had talked and talked for days with the guys before jumping into the relationship. You had been confident about the success of the talks, but you weren’t sure anymore.
You sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to work. Jungkook and you, it was strained beyond repair.
“I love you, Jungkook. But I can’t and won’t choose you over the others. It doesn’t work that way.”
Something inside him snapped, and he snarled at you, bunching up your nightshirt in his fist.
“What if you got pregnant? Whose child will it be? Who are you going to marry? All seven of us? How will you explain it to the world?”
You struggled in his grasp, clawing at his hand to shake it off.
“It will be Jin I marry. And if I got pregnant, there will be eight people to love the child.” You closed your eyes, clenching your fists. “There’s nothing that can change that.”
The repulsion on his face was clear as day.
“You’re a fucking slut, Y/N.”
─── ·❆· ───
“Hey,” Jin called out, smiling at you from his position on the couch. Yoongi and Taehyung were passed out on the floor, the empty wine bottles sprawled around their bodies.
“Hey,” you said, flashing him a watery smile. “When did you come?”
“Just now,” he said, patting his thigh and signaling you to sit on it.
You shook your head, biting your lip.
“I need to-” you winced, gingerly pressing on your knuckles. “-can you get me some ice?”
His gaze fell on your swollen knuckles, and he jumped up hastily.
“Y/N baby, what happened?”
He rushed to get the ice, barreling to a stop in front of the fridge. There, with his head poking into the freezer door, stood a figure in gym shorts.
Jin knocked at the curly mop of hair, complaining loudly.
“Yah Jungkook-ah, get your head out. I need to get some ice.”
Jin was taken aback when Jungkook whirled around, sporting a bright crimson nose, a tiny trickle of blood running down one nostril.
“The fuck-“ Jin started to say, but Jungkook pushed him away, wiping his nose and storming back towards his room.
When Jin came back to you with a bowl of ice cubes, his quick mind had already sensed a problem.
“Y/N, what happened? Did you- punch him?”
He raised his eyebrow, scrutinizing your face.
“Yes.”
He hadn’t been ready for that.
“But why? You’ve got to tell me. We shouldn’t be hitting each other like this.”
You let Jin hold your fingers and ice them, holding your silence and thinking how best to explain it to him.
“I’ll tell you, but not now.”
He clucked his tongue in dissent.
“No, now.”
“Jin, just leave me be. Not here.”
Your boyfriend pursed his lips, and the disapproval was evident on the curl of his mouth. He pulled you up and guided you to your shared bedroom. It was farther down the suite of rooms, out of earshot from Jungkook’s.
“Out with it,” he said, closing the door and pulling you down to sit on the bed. “Now.”
You never kept secrets from any of your boyfriends. And this was a very big issue that you had no intention of hiding from Jin.
“Jungkook... he called me a slut.”
“What?”
He was on his feet, anger rising in his chest. He knew it wasn’t just dirty bedroom talk, judging from your swollen knuckles.
“Y/N, why did he say that? Tell me everything from the start.”
Ten minutes later, you had barely finished speaking when Jin stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
─── ·❆· ───
Namjoon and Jimin had been out all evening, working on the lyrics for Jimin’s new solo. They were surprised when they got back to a living room full of people, all looking stern and pissed.
“What’s up?” Namjoon asked, hanging his coat on the hook. “Did someone break something?” He internally prayed that no one had discovered the burnt pan stowed under the sink.
No one responded.
“What is it?” Jimin whispered to Taehyung, sliding into a spot on the couch.
“It’s Y/N…” Taehyung started to whisper back, and Jimin exclaimed loudly,
“Oh gosh is she pregnant?”
“Shut your damn mouth,” Taehyung hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.
Namjoon’s sharp eyes scanned the scene. There were only seven people in the room. Serious meetings were supposed to have all eight in attendance.
“So, what is this about?” he asked, settling down beside Jin. “And where’s Jungkook?”
Jin remained silent, his face red in a stormy temper. Namjoon looked past Jin at you, addressing you instead.
“Babe, what’s going on?”
You opened your mouth to respond when Jin broke the heavy silence with a piercing shout:
“JEON JUNGKOOK!”
A minute later, a door opened and Jungkook slunk down the corridor, head bent. A hoodie was keeping his head covered, and he sat down on the couch opposite yours. He looked up obstinately, throwing his hood down, earning shocked gasps.
His nose was bleeding, and the blood had dried up in a red streak. His eye socket was a dark purple, and his cheekbone was swollen, effectively sealing his right eye shut.
Everyone was stunned, and indignant voices started talking all at once.
“Who did that?”
“How did this happen?”
“Jungkook, who did this to you?”
Jin snapped at no one in particular, barking out an annoyed “Everyone just shut up.”
He had a sonorous voice, one that commanded respect, especially when he raised it to a shout. The room quietened down, but a low murmur arose again when his shock of hair bounced, revealing a bleeding gash on his forehead.
“I called all of you here to say that our beloved Jungkook wants out of this relationship.”
He raised his palm to silence the babble of voices that broke out again, continuing with:
“He insulted our girlfriend and she broke his nose.”
Jungkook bowed head, choosing to scowl at the carpet.
“And the black eye?” Yoongi’s mild voice asked.
Jin dug his nails into his palms.
“I did that.”
Namjoon shook his head, tsking in disapproval.
“We need to hear both sides of the story, Jin hyung.”
When no one said anything, Namjoon looked at his youngest friend’s bent head.
“Well, Kook? Got anything to say?”
Silence.
Jin stared daggers at the man in the hoodie, his face a hot shade of crimson. His fingers gripped yours, squeezing them protectively.
“Well then,” Taehyung said, breaking the long awkward silence. “If you’ve got nothing to say…”
You couldn’t hold bear the tension in the room anymore.
“He doesn’t wanna share He wants out!” you exclaimed loudly. “He wants me all to himself! And…” you bit out, glaring at Jungkook, “…apparently, I’m a whore for being in this relationship.”
“What?!”
Hoseok was up on his feet, his fists clenched. Yoongi reached his hand out to grasp his hand urgently.
“Sit down, Hobi-yah.”
The murmur of indignant voices was rising to a fever pitch when Jungkook suddenly stood up. Head still downcast, he muttered:
“Save your breaths. I’m moving out.”
No one stopped him, and his dazed surprise was hidden under his hoodie. He dragged himself out of the room, the stares of his brothers burning into his skin.
“The fuck just happened?” Jimin asked, inspecting your swollen knuckles. “Why is this happening?”
You chewed on your lip, wondering the same thing. What had happened to your close-knit boyfriends? Why was Jungkook suddenly discontented with the bond you all shared? Would your boyfriends slowly fall apart and float away like Jungkook?
You looked around the room, watching the intent faces of your boyfriends as they listened to Jin’s account of the day’s events. Would you lose them all one by one?
─── ·❆· ───
It was really awkward to go to your boyfriends’ studios when they practiced. Awkward because Jungkook was there too, dancing and sweating it out with the rest of them. He removed himself from the room whenever you showed up, and the shift in the mood was palpable.
The others confided in you that they weren’t on speaking terms with Jungkook either, and that the practice sessions were becoming too uncomfortable to be around each other. You knew well enough that it would take a toll on the group’s performance as a whole. After all, communication was paramount to ensure they were perfectly in sync for their dance routines.
You wished to attempt one last time to see if you could talk sense into Jungkook. So, you found yourself standing outside Jungkook’s studio one evening, long after the others had packed up and left. You had half a mind to turn around and leave. But a small voice inside your head kept telling you to give it one last try. Your boyfriends were already suffering enough. You owed them one last-ditch effort to try and mend things.
You raised your hand to press the buzzer, still unsure. Was this going to be a mistake?
The door opened even before the buzzer stopped buzzing. Jungkook stood in the doorway, with his grey sweatpants on, his hair swept back with a headband. His eyes widened in surprise, and you saw his muscles flex when he tightened his grip on the doorknob.
You were at a loss for words. It was strange because you were never out of words.
“I-uh…I thought…”
His veiny arm found purchase on your blouse, and his lips came crashing down on your mouth. His mouth worked urgently, claiming dominance before you could oppose. He pulled you inside and gripped both your hands behind your back, slamming the door closed.
“Jung…” you panted out, but he pressed his mouth harder, drowning your words. He nudged you towards the wall with his body, pinning you in place. His mouth never ceased attacking you, while he worked to trap your wrists into one hand.
His other hand roamed all over your skin, clawing and grabbing your flesh in hunger. Jungkook couldn’t believe you had shown up on his doorstep after so many weeks. It felt like a fever dream, and he held on to every piece of skin he could hold, desperately anxious not to let you slip away.
“I knew you’d come back,” he moaned between breaths, “…to me.”
You struggled in his grasp, trying hard to shake his hand off your wrists.
“No,” you breathed, turning your head slightly to stop the barrage of soul-sucking kisses. “I didn’t come back to you…”
He froze momentarily. Just a moment later, his grip hardened around your wrists. The soft emotion on his features evaporated into thin air.
Without a word, he pushed you tighter against the wall, pinning you under his shoulder blades.
“So, you’re telling me…” he hooked a finger into the waistband of your jeans, “…that you didn’t want me? You never thought about…” he pulled the zipper down, “this?” His hand tugged the jeans down urgently and slithered into the crook between your thighs.
“Stop it,” you said shakily, feeling your arms starting to fall asleep.
But he paid no heed. He pulled your leg and hoisted your hips up against the wall. You felt insecure with both your legs wrapped around his body, with nothing to support you except the wall behind your back.
“You’re telling me…” he repeated, lifting your hips and slowly dropping to his knees while adjusting your legs so they were on both sides of his neck, “…that you didn’t miss me at all?”
By that time, you were hovering mid-air with your neck against the wall and the rest of your body awkwardly supported on his shoulders.
Your hands were free of his grasp, but they were still pretty useless because they were trapped under the shoulder joints that were straining to keep you from falling.
He grinned from between your legs, licking his lips maliciously. His finger pushed the crotch of your underwear aside. He bent lightly and blew against your bare core.
You couldn’t help it, your core clenched at the rush of hot air and it drew another smirk on his face.
“See? You want me,” he crooned, laying the pad of his finger against your clit. You jerked slightly, and he shushed you softly.
“Don’t squirm, love. You’ll fall and break your neck,” he added with a wicked smile. “We don’t want that, do we?”
“Stop it, Jungkook,” you started, but he dove into your clit at the exact moment.
`Though his demeanor was relaxed and careless, on the inside he was anything but. He pressed his tongue flat against your bud, lapping all your juices with feral thirst. He saw your thigh muscles tremble at his ministrations, and he smiled into your pussy. Gosh, he had missed you so damn much.
His tongue dipped and swirled around inside you, and it took all your discipline to stay in place without squirming and snapping your neck. You hadn’t forgotten what a master Jungkook was with his tongue.
He started sucking and sloppily slurping up everything you had to offer, so hard that you were sure you weren’t going to last. You were definitely going to break your neck.
“Stop, just…” you moaned, feeling a cramp beginning in your neck. “I can’t… let me down. Just let me down, please.”
He raised his head from your crotch.
“Why should I trust that you won’t run?”
You could no longer feel your arms.
“Don’t you trust that I love you?” you replied, struggling to stay in position. “Do you think I am fine with losing you? Don’t you understand that I love you just as much as I love the others?”
He cocked his eyebrow at the last sentence, the slight sting of the words sinking in. With a reluctant grunt, he put his hands under your hips, slowly peeling you from the wall and setting you down.
You weren’t sure if you were paranoid, but it seemed that he knew your arms were still numb. He took his sweet time tugging your pants further down your thighs, but all of a sudden, he flipped you over and caught hold of your wrists again.
Damn, right when the little pinpricks on your arms had begun and your arms were regaining strength.
He pushed and held you down so your chin was against the floor, while his knee dug into the back of your thighs. He felt your hands struggle, and he grinned to himself.
“Y/N baby, you’re so weak. Don’t fight me, love.”
You cursed and writhed under his body, but a steady hand of iron clawed at your hips and didn’t let go.
“You don’t understand, Y/N,” he said, the slight sound of clothes scuffling behind you filling your ears. “You want me just as much as I want you.”
More sounds of something wet.
Page Break
Jungkook gave his shaft a few furious pumps, coating his thick glossy pre-cum all over his length. Damn, he was oozing so much pre-cum. He licked his lips and worked his dick, thinking of all the times in the past week that he had fantasized about your tight little pussy stretched around his cock.
His eyes scanned the pretty little birthmark on your left ass cheek. He smiled fondly, remembering how insecure you had been of it when you first started dating him. And the others. His smile vanished as quickly as it had come.
Jungkook had a lot of girth, and he usually prepped you well before entering. But not today. Not when you were writhing beneath him, trying to escape. With one quick push, he plowed into you, burying himself to the hilt.
A surprised whimper escaped your lips. He gave you no time to adjust, slamming into you repeatedly. The force of his thrusts shook your body, earning gasps that you fought hard to bite down. He kept up the unrelenting pace, pounding harder and harder with each thrust.
“What,” he panted between breaths, “won’t you moan for me?”
“Get off me, Jeon Jungkook,” you ground out through gritted teeth. He only chuckled in response.
His panting grew harder, and his thrusts became sloppier. You knew he was close. What would he do after that? He wasn’t going to let you go easily.
He pulled out and flipped you over, his hand returning to hold your hips down. Aligning his cock against your entrance, he pushed in again.
“Look at me,” he said, voice thick and needy. “Look at me when I cum in you.”
You stared back in defiance. Even though you loved Jungkook just as much as the others, none of them ever violated you like this. They hadn’t ever laid a finger on you against your will.
“You don’t love me,” you said calmly.
He raised an eyebrow, still slamming his hips into you.
“Your mind games won’t work on me, Y/N,” he replied, heavily panting. “You’re not going anywhere.” He licked the sweat on the corners of his mouth. “I’ll never let you leave me.”
With each thrust, your love for him withered and crumbled even more. A deep sense of regret washed over you for ever loving him. He didn’t understand love. He didn’t respect you. You had to get out of his grasp as quickly as you could. Would he take you somewhere and hold you hostage? Would he lock you up in a room and never let you see the light of day?
His thighs began shaking, and his thrusts became sloppy.
“Look here,” he grunted, teetering dangerously close to his release. “Fucking take my cum.”
He closed his eyes, his dick pulsing and throbbing inside you with the force of his orgasm. His grip on your body momentarily slipped, and you seized the chance.
Gathering all your strength, you punched him square in the balls, causing him to hiss in pain and topple over you. Even before he could react, you hit him in the ribs and pushed his body off, hauling your lower body out from under him.
His hand desperately snatched at your legs, but you kicked him and slithered away. He screamed out and clutched at your ankle, not letting go.
“Get off!” You screamed, reaching for the jeans bunched around your thighs.
The anger was bubbling in his face.
“No!” he shouted, trying to pull you by the ankle.
You swung your free leg at him, sending a hook kick that caught him under the chin with a sickening thud.
Without looking back, you scrambled up and unlocked the door, pulling your jeans up and running as fast as you could.
─── ·❆· ───
“Hot chocolate?”
You took the cup from Taehyung’s hand and nestled closer to Jin. Your boyfriend had bundled you up in blankets and seated you on his lap. Hoseok was sitting next to Jin, massaging, and rubbing your feet.
Namjoon and Jimin were sitting cross-legged on the rug, their mugs of hot chocolate forgotten. Yoongi was looking at the sheets of rain outside the window.
Everyone was eerily silent. To be fair, all of you had been shattered when Jungkook left. Over the weeks, a faint sense of normalcy had returned to the household. Until Jungkook cruelly wiped everything away again.
Jin had gone all kinds of crazy when you had run into his arms, your hair disheveled and tears streaming down your face. He had been unable to get a word out of you. He had examined the bite marks and welts with murderous rage, his blood boiling at the sight.
He had maintained his silence when you stayed in the shower for hours on end, curled into a ball on the bathroom floor. He had ground his teeth, bursting at the seams trying to hold his temper. He had soaped your battered body, his heart breaking at the way you tried to stifle your broken sobs.
When you had finally acquiesced to go out of the bathroom, he had carried you outside and dressed you gently. He had then bundled you up in the softest blankets as if they could protect and comfort you.
He had bent to kiss your cheek when you uttered it. Just one word.
“Jungkook.”
You had seen his jaw flexing dangerously. Bunching his shirt in your fingers, you had pulled him closer. Slowly the rest of your boyfriends had returned home. They had all seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. Somehow, they had realized that something was wrong.
You hadn’t said a word when Jin displayed the welts on your wrists for them to see. He had told them about the scratches and nail marks all over your thighs, and you listened numbly. It had felt like he was talking about someone else.
The sound of someone’s phone brought you back to the present. The notification sound chimed again, and again. Suddenly, all the phones in the room started chiming incessantly, cutting through the heavy silence in the room.
“What the hell,” Yoongi said, reaching for his phone. “The fuck’s happening?”
All of you stared at Yoongi, the notification sounds still going off in the background.
“What the fuck!” he shouted, furiously swiping at his phone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Taehyung went to his side, alarmed at the panic in his voice.
“Hyung?”
“FanLive,” Yoongi blurted out, holding his phone up towards all of you. “Jungkook is on FanLive.”
“What?” Namjoon asked mildly, hopping to his feet and peering into Yoongi’s screen. “What about it?”
Yoongi hit the speaker button, setting the volume to Maximum.
“… I was so nervous,” Jungkook’s syrupy voice rang out from the phone, and your ears perked up. “…but I am so happy that I shared this with you. I love all our fans. I really hope you will make her feel safe and welcome.”
Jin slid his buzzing phone out of his pocket, and a news notification flashed on his screen. You looked at it dumbfounded, not trusting your eyes.
‘BBS BAND MEMBER REVEALS GIRLFRIEND!’
Jungkook’s voice was still pouring out of Yoongi’s phone.
“I love this person so much; she makes me really happy.” You could almost hear his bunny smile. You felt sick.
“… We talked a lot and decided it’s time to share our secret. So, yeah… my girlfriend’s name is…” he paused, and all your muscles tensed, “…Y/N.”
You blinked. The constant ringing of phones in the room grated on your nerves. Jin’s knuckles were white, his fingers digging into the sides of his phone. He was seething, the anger growing inside him like an inferno.
“That. piece. of. Shit,” Jin spat out, his body trembling in rage. “I’m going to…”
Jungkook’s rabbity voice piped up again, he was probably showing something to the camera.
“…this is a picture of us…”
You pounced on Yoongi, grabbing the phone.
“Give me that, Yoongi.”
Jungkook was grinning in a successful attempt at cuteness. A turtleneck sweater was hiding the bruises on his neck that your kick had caused. You knew he had probably used heavy concealers to mask the injuries from the struggle.
He was holding his phone up to the camera, and you saw the picture he was showing. It was a selfie Jungkook had taken with you several months ago. You were both smiling at the camera, leaning against each other cozily.
“… this is my favorite picture, Y/N looks so cute…”
Jungkook droned on about how much he adored you and how lucky he was. He even had the nerve to say how happy his band members were for him. You didn’t bat an eyelid, drinking in all the blatant lies he spewed on live camera.
“…that’s the reason for this surprise live stream. Thank you for your love, please accept Y/N too…”
He kept repeating your name as much as he could, as if he wanted to punch your name into every viewer’s brain. That you were his. And his alone.
The live stream ended, and Yoongi flung his phone down in disgust.
“Sick, pathetic leech…” he began, slamming the coffee table. “I am going to strangle him.”
He rose to his feet, but Jimin gripped his wrist tightly.
“No, hyung. Not now.”
“He violated Y/N!” Yoongi screamed out, and Jin flinched. “And now this? I want him dead!”
“Yoongi-yah,” Jin’s firm voice stopped Yoongi’s angry tirade. “Yoongi-yah, we’re all furious. I get it. But we should take a minute to think what to do.”
The younger man glanced at you, and you nodded.
“He has branded me to the world as his girlfriend. You will tarnish yourself if you go beat him up. And that’s not intelligent.”
Namjoon hummed in agreement.
“I want to wrap my fingers around his throat and feel his life leave his body though,” Namjoon said, an unusual murderous look glinting in his eyes.
The buzzing of your phone briefly broke your attention, and you glanced at the screen. It was Hae Jung, one of the BBS stylists. The texts were already flooding your screen. The latest ones popped up in the notification shade.
Hae Jung: Get out of the apartment quick!
Hae Jung: You can’t be seen with the rest of them!
Hae Jung: Y/N!! Answer my calls just once!
“Uh, Jinnie?” You tugged at his sleeve, pulling him gently.
He was simmering in a cold rage, and his gaze was sharp like knives when he snapped out a “What?”
You had a temper of your own and you found it kindling. Taking a deep breath, you displayed your phone for him to see.
“Hae Jung says I should leave the apartment at once. I can’t be seen with any of you. She’s got a point.”
Jin’s wide shoulders broadened as he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head. Taehyung’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and he said,
“She’s right, hyung. Y/N has to leave.” He composed himself to mask the little break in his voice. “Just for now.”
Namjoon, whose brain processed things 10x quicker, gripped your hand, alarmed.
“I’d be damned if we sent Y/N straight to Jungkook’s apartment.” He gritted his teeth, “Especially after what he just did to her.”
His eyes involuntarily swept over the bruises on your neck.
“Of course not,” Yoongi said, folding his arms. “We’ll keep her safe at a hotel.”
Jimin’s fingers intertwined with yours, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze.
“Let’s send a few of our bodyguard hyungs to keep her company.”
Hoseok, who had been talking to one of the managers, cut the call and flipped his phone closed.
“It’s already a nightmare on Twitter. We need to secure Y/N as fast as humanly possible. All the tabloids will be raining upon us like vultures soon.”
Namjoon’s leader instincts kicked into action, and before long they were smuggling you into one of their getaway cars.
“Here,” Jimin said, slipped out of his coat and draping it on your head. “Stay low, baby.”
Hoseok slid next to you, and just before he could slam the door shut, Jin’s veiny hand slithered into the crack.
He caught hold of your wrist and gripped hard, as if transferring all his strength over to you. No words were exchanged, but the weight of unspoken words was evident in his grip. You nodded silently, and he let go.
Without losing another second, Hoseok slammed the door and the car raced into the traffic, headed straight to a hotel.
─── ·❆· ───
#WEAREHAPPYFORYOU
#BBSGIRLFRIEND
#WELOVEYOUJK
#CONGRATULATIONS_OUR_JK
The bird app was full of Twitter trends talking about Jungkook’s bombshell. Hoseok’s phone kept buzzing every few seconds from all the posts and hashtags tagging his band’s shared Twitter handle.
He had removed your SIM card and broken it, handing you a new one instead. He had also signed you out of all your social media accounts. You had been essentially cut off from any media that would give your identity away.
“Baby, I’ve ordered room service,” Hoseok said, drawing the blinds closed. He did a routine sweep of the suite, checking for hidden cameras out of habit.
“Do you want anything, Y/N?” he asked, kneeling on the floor, and peering under the bed.
“I just want you to hold me,” you said, hugging your knees and gazing at his bent form.
He looked up, those soft brown eyes emanating so much warmth. Without a word, he dragged himself up and crawled into bed, pulling you into a gentle embrace.
His nose was warm against the side of your neck, and you inhaled deep breaths of his comforting presence. Hoseok had the innate ability to bring cheer wherever he went, and it was probably why your boyfriends had sent him to keep you company.
“Y/N,” he said, drawing the words out. “Don’t… please don’t resent us for this,” he said, and your heart broke.
“No, no, Hobi-” you said, turning slightly to look into his glistening eyes. “-I never will.” Taking his hand, put it against your cheek. “I’d never resent falling in love with all of you.”
He nodded and smiled happily, his fears crumbling to dust.
“Just- don’t let Jungkook ruin what we have,” he whispered, and you hummed in agreement. You had not for one moment regretted being with them. Jin had opened the doors wide open to so much love, much more than you had ever imagined.
─── ·❆· ───
It had been four days since you went into hiding. Your boyfriends took turns to sneak visits, it was a mystery how they managed to achieve that feat without getting caught by paparazzi. To be fair, the hotel you were sheltered in catered to celebrities all the time, and the staff were very discreet.
Your stomach rumbled, and you scratched your tummy. Whether it was due to your impending periods, you didn’t know, but you craved ramen. Especially the kind with tteokbokki – that was your favorite. Did you dare go down to the nearest convenience store and eat some?
Throwing Jin’s hoodie on, you let your hair loose under Taehyung’s beanie. Hoseok’s baggy pants were your favorite, they were oh so comfortable. Your sunglasses took a while to find, they were buried at the bottom of the drawer.
Looking at the mirror, you were satisfied with your camouflage and decided to step out. The walk to the convenience store took longer than you had expected. There wasn’t one in sight for a few blocks. It felt good to stretch your legs after so many days. But by the time you entered a store, you were already wondering if it was a good call.
The store was quiet. A bit too quiet for your liking. You’d have much preferred a crowded and noisy ambiance, it would have made you far less noticeable. The heavy oily smell of sizzling fritters wafted to your nostrils, interspersed with the earthy aroma of ground coffee beans.
There were a few girls around the ramen aisle, and you tried hard to be inconspicuous while scanning the rows for your favorite robokki brand. All went well, and you managed to get the packet scanned and billed.
You were waiting in line to use the hot water dispenser, wishing you’d stayed put in the hotel room. The girl standing before you turned with her cup of hot noodles, catching you smack in the eyes. The sunglasses flew off your face, and the hot liquid from her noodles splashed across your neck.
“I’m so sorry,” she shrieked, setting the noodles down in an attempt to help you.
“No, I- it’s okay,” you muttered, deciding to get the hell out of there. In your haste, you bumped into a few more people standing in line behind you.
“Hey,” a girl shouted, picking up your sunglasses from the floor. “You left this…”
You shook your head and tried to dart out of there, but she was quicker. She body-blocked you, extending her arm towards you. You mumbled a quick “Thanks” and tried to move, but she persisted.
“I’ve seen you…” Suddenly, recognition dawned on her face. “You’re Jungkook oppa’s girlfriend.”
“Er, no,” you said, kicking yourself for ever leaving the hotel.
“Ji Hee! Soo Yeon!” she shrieked, beside herself in excitement. “Come here quick!”
The girls you had seen in the line circled on you, wondering what the commotion was about.
“It’s her! It’s Jungkook oppa’s girlfriend!”
They advanced on you slowly, peering into your shocked face.
“You?” one girl snickered in a mocking tone. “What makes you so special?”
By that time, you were trapped amid four girls, and no one else seemed to care about the bevy of girls in the ramen section.
Another girl took a section of your hair and flicked it in disdain, clicking her tongue.
“Just what did oppa see in you?”
The third one egged her friend on saying, “Good that you threw ramen over her, Min Ji!”
“Empty the rest on her too!”
You started to back away, but the girl behind you pushed you, sending you tumbling forward.
“Let me g-“
The girl had thrown the rest of her noodles on you before you even finished your sentence. Instinctively, your eyes closed for a split second, and you felt your hair being pulled. A weak slap managed to jerk your face sideways before the owner yelled out loudly.
“Hey, no fighting. Take it outside!”
One arm grabbed your hoodie, and another pulled you out by the hair. The one called Soo Yeon threw your sunglasses on the pavement and stepped on it, crushing the glass to bits.
Passersby began to stare, and you had no choice but to make a run for it. You were stronger than your assailants, partly because Jungkook had been your gym partner, and all those arm days came to your rescue.
It was no use to try and keep a low profile now that you were out on the road. Pushing one girl away, you landed a karate chop on the arm pulling your hair. The owner of the arm yelped in pain, and you barreled towards the third one, butting her torso with your head and sending her tumbling down.
You ran like the wind, not once looking back. You hoped fervently that no passerby had recorded the whole tussle on their phone. God, you’d ruin your boyfriends if the little spectacle ever went viral.
Dripping in ramen and terribly out of breath, you made it to the hotel’s private entrance. A car was pulling up, and a startled voice called out your name just as you pressed the elevator button.
“Y/N?”
Jimin bounded out of the car, startled at seeing your disheveled appearance.
“What the hell happened?”
─── ·❆· ───
“But why did you call this urgent meeting, Namjoonah?” the band’s executive PD asked, rolling the paperweight on the table. The conference room in the BBS building was where the group’s most iconic song lyrics were birthed. It had been a room that had witnessed loud arguments about line distribution, heartbreaks over missed awards, and collective joy over record breaks.
“Let the others arrive,” Namjoon replied, his jaw set in determination.
Jin came in soon, followed by a steady trickle of the rest of the band. All except Jungkook of course.
“The fuck is he?” Namjoon bit out, impatiently glancing at the digital clock.
“We’ll get down to business anyway, good that’s he’s not here now,” Jin said, putting an arm over Taehyung’s lap to stop him from fidgeting.
“Well then,” the PD said, dragging a notepad towards him. “What is the purpose of this meeting?”
Everyone looked at Namjoon in unison, expecting him to spell it out for them.
“We all want to terminate our contracts with the agency,” he began, causing the PD to inhale sharply and lean forward urgently.
“What?”
“… effective immediately,” Namjoon said, his mouth set in a straight line.
“But why? Have we failed you in any way? You can tell me your grievances! I can try and resolve…”
Yoongi’s slow drawling voice eclipsed his boss’s.
“We are willing to reconsider if…”
The PD’s eyes widened in urgency. “If?”
“If you terminate Jungkook’s contract instead.”
Right on cue, the door opened and Jungkook walked in, an air of lazy arrogance stamped all over him.
He slipped into a seat, swiveling on his chair from left to right just to spite the men who were glaring at him.
“Don’t own a watch?” Jin asked scathingly, earning just a cool raise of eyebrows in response.
The PD was still speechless from the earlier discussion, so he didn’t participate in the bickering over Jungkook’s lack of punctuality. The babble of voices grew louder and louder around him.
“I don’t care for your disapproval,” Jungkook was shouting, slapping his fist on the table, when the boss shook himself into action.
“Stop!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the cacophony.
He glared at the youngest member, effectively silencing him.
“Now, what the hell is this actually about?” He turned to Jin. “You! Eldest! Speak.”
Jin looked at Namjoon, who nodded encouragingly. He cleared his throat, unsure how to start.
“Well, you know about our girlfriend…”
The boss sighed. Of course, this was about you. He had been privy to the unusual relationship between you and his artists. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected this rift to occur sometime or the other. He had had years of experience working with hormonal youngsters to expect otherwise.
“Personal conflicts cannot influence your contracts,” he said, eyeing Jin sternly.
“Yeah, tell him,” Jungkook drawled haughtily.
“And you, shut your face,” the boss spat out, furious that his multimillion-dollar band was fraying at the edges because of girl problems.
“Personal?” Taehyung asked incredulously. “Of course it’s personal! Our girlfriend got assaulted and harassed because of him!”
“Correction. My girlfriend,” Jungkook said, staring at Jin’s throbbing neck veins. “She’d have been safe with me if she hadn’t been kidnapped and left uncared for.”
“The nerve,” Hoseok shouted, getting to his feet angrily.
Jimin pulled him back to his seat, hissing sharply.
“Sit down, hyung. Don’t let him get under your skin.”
Jungkook leaned forward, his black eyes glowering at Jin.
“I want to know where you’ve hidden her.”
“You’ve caused her enough harm,” Yoongi snapped. “You were the one who violated her privacy. You showed her to the world. You are the reason she got assaulted. You jeopardized her safety.”
Jungkook pursed his lips in stony mutiny. He had no witty response to Yoongi’s allegations.
“Well, PDnim, we want Jungkook’s contract terminated immediately. We refuse to work with him,” Jimin said, getting back on track.
“If you terminate me,” Jungkook said, leaning on his chair and rocking himself gently, “I’ll sue you. Every one of you. I’ll sue the agency till there isn’t a penny left.”
─── ·❆· ───
You knew it hadn’t gone well as soon as you saw the disgruntled looks on your boyfriends’ faces. They had all come to your hotel room with sulky faces.
“Babe?” you asked, holding the coat as Hoseok shrugged himself out of it.
“No go, Y/N,” Jimin said, shaking his head. “PDnim can’t terminate him. And he threatened to sue the agency too.”
There had been only a slim chance of it ever working out, so it wasn’t a big blow. But it did sting your boyfriends to even think of working with Jungkook ever again.
Jin pulled you snug against his body, sighing heavily.
“We’ll figure something out,” you said, squeezing his big arms that were wound around your torso.
“Hmm,” he mumbled half-heartedly. “We got you some lamb skewers,” he said, burying his face into your neck.
“Oh damn it, I sat on it!” Namjoon whined, guiltily eyeing the now squished package he dug out of his coat.
Everyone giggled, a sudden ease settling amid everyone in the house. It felt just like old times. Well, at least partially.
“Fuck you, Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi said, pulling the package from his clumsy brother. “Now I need to operate on this and save it.”
Another wave of giggles. Somehow it felt like you would all survive the situation and turn out okay.
“Mmm, kiss me,” Taehyung said, sandwiching you between Jin and himself. “I love it when you laugh.”
He dipped his head, cupping your cheeks fondly. Jin pressed himself against your back, his hands moving up to cup your breasts.
“Yah, get a room!” Hoseok snickered, slapping Taehyung’s butt playfully.
You smirked in response, pulling Taehyung’s boxy lips towards your mouth, and leaving teasing licks on the corner of his mouth.
“Ah, don’t tease,” he complained, his outrageously deep voice sending shivers up your spine. Jin’s hands squeezed your breasts through your shirt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Jin was a sucker for your tits, he loved playing with them. They were his drug of choice.
His bulge poked your back, and he slowly moved backward, taking care not to disturb Taehyung’s kissing. The others barely paid attention, they were lounging about, talking, or scrolling through their phones.
Jin was halfway through a doorway when Jimin’s surprised yell stilled him.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, furiously swiping on his phone.
Taehyung was just as startled, and you peeked around his head to see what bothered Jimin so much.
“What is it?” you began to ask, just as the others started to crane their heads over Jimin’s phone.
No one responded, so you pulled yourself out of the Jin-Tae sandwich and went to investigate. Pushing Hoseok’s head to the side, you stared at Jimin’s screen. And your jaw dropped to the floor.
‘BREAKING NEWS: BBS Band member’s girlfriend cheats on him with ANOTHER member!
Over the weekend, I spent a lot of time convincing my ARMY friends to download Tumblr and read these amazing stories so we have something to gush about!
Now, there are a LOT of amazing fics and fic writers on here but lemme just list down the ones from the top of my head. Check these out!
The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Series by @bts-reveries
This is how I imagine the BTS members would react to you being on your period for the first time since getting together with them <3
JUNGKOOK
He'd have everything ready
And I mean everything- pads, tampons, your favourite chocolates, tissue paper boxes, all his large shirts and sweatpants ready for you to use, ice cream tubs, blankets
You name it, he has it
Would make sure every single one of his streaming service subscription had been paid up to date, so you wouldn't have any problem binging any show
He'd get worried when you're having normal cramps, "Are you dying?" because of your extraness
Would practically be living at your house for that week
"I'll sleep on the couch, baby, don't worry."
He'd giggle at your whining and random complaints
TAEHYUNG
Upon getting to know, he'd immediately call his elder sister
"I think she's on her red flag days.." Would be told to not make a big deal out of it because it would upset you and just stay away for the most part
"Y/n, do you want these cookies I made?"
You'd laugh at how scared he'd be, "Don't be scared, Tae. I'm not gonna bite you or anything."
His smile would do wonders in comforting you and making you forget about the pain in your abdomen
Tae would always be there for you, either in the next room or just one phone call away
JIMIN
It would be terrible for him
Because Park Jimin was a constantly horny, always going through his heat and in dire need of physical affection man
"Oh my gosh, the week is going by so slowly."
You'd suggest the bathroom, but he'd immediately reject the offer, "No! What if I hurt you and don't realise it?"
Your heart would melt at his worry
He'd buy the entire 'candies' section of the shops for you, and maybe some for himself
"When your period is over I swear I'll fold yo-" "Shut the fuck up!"
NAMJOON
Your very loving boyfriend would call up the hospital
Would get scolded by you for making it seem like such a big thing, "I've been having my periods since I was 13."
In apology, he'd get you everything you needed, constantly checking up on you
He'd buy bandages for unknown reasons
He knows you're a sucker for cuddles and will use that to comfort you
Would make sure your heating pad is in place and then hug you
"Call me if you need anything, okay?"
HOSEOK
Would be shocked when you'd tell him
"Does it, like, hurt?"
He'd gently caress your stomach, murmuring sweet things
His curiousness would get the better of him and he'd ask you to enlighten him about these kinds of girl things
Would start crying himself when you'd begin sobbing for no reason
Doesn't know that it's the hormones acting up and would move away, "Did I hurt you?"
Anxious eyes would stare at you
Fucking jovial when it'd be over
YOONGI
Even more prepared than you
Has pads, tampons, chocolates, baby wipes, your favourite shows ready and his gummy smile
"It's okay, I'm here." Would softly pat your head and kiss your forehead
Sweetness overload
Will completely disconnect the two of you from the world
Serves you hot chocolate every hour
Won't let you move out of your bed and carry you to the bathroom when you need to shower
SEOKJIN
Like Yoongi, prepared as fuck
Will flaunt his cooking abilities and make you the most delicious food for every meal
Will be the spooner and let you be the spoonee
Won't be annoyed at all when you wake up in the middle of the night to go check for any leaks
↳ genre fluff, established relationship, dad Taehyung
↳ words 4k
↳ summary a trip back to hometown for a friend turned into something memorable which embarked something deep in Taehyung’s heart.
↳ notes i discussed the premise of this story with my good friend @hellotherehoneybee and based on her ideas, i prolonged the length and added some plots to push a heavy turn so appropriately, the summary here is thanks to her.
↳ warning mentions of childbirth, vivid descriptions of the scene, major character death
↳ song taylor swift ‘gold rush’, imagine dragons ‘levitate’, taio cruz ‘telling the world’, taylor swift ‘ you’re in love’
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“Taehyung… tea?”
Sand cuffed the shore. Half painted coast on the canvas. The wind blew rather harshly and every strike of wind, Taehyung’s wild mane of hair ruffled against themselves. They were long enough to cover his eyes but it didn’t stop him from painting the colours on his canvas. He blinks at the view of the sea and how it doesn’t change despite the years passed by. He wore slippers with an open toe, a baggy shirt and baggy trousers. His eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Sunken cheeks and empty eyes, his jaw was immaculate and his face was crafted by God. He is beautiful in this light. So beautiful.
“What are you drawing so seriously?” you asked. But no answers from him. As it should.
Six, maybe ten years back, this caravan was parked here. Pair of hands raised to the ceiling. The sunlight sieved through the blinds. The pair laced themselves, and toyed around. The make out of the knuckles under this light, showed how veiny his hands were than yours. Small chuckles and soft whispers accommodate the serene and tranquil moment. The caravan was parked by the sea. His easel leaned against the kitchen counter next to the sink. His whole body covered yours as you snuggled in bed. You thumbed his supple cheeks and traced the shape of his lips as he lay half-awake. You ran your index finger down the slope of his pretty nose and counted his eyelashes, you lined the edges of his brows and ran your hand through the locks of his brown hair that looked lighter in the sun. He moans sweetly at your touch.
You proceed to trace your fingers down the helix of his ears, his excellent jaw lines and chin. There's prickling hair ends at the chin and you thought that he might need a shave. You remembered how bad he was at shaving. You even suggested that he should stop shaving all the way. The smile he had on when you said it was priceless. Then he remembered that society wouldn’t have allowed him to live. Taehyung’s eyes half-opened at the stimulating touch. He breaks a smile in his sleepy state and he crunches his nose at the view of you. You swore, you had never seen anyone that beautiful. He nuzzles into your face and neck, planting kisses where he can and he spoke, in his drowsiness, “I’m so sleepy.”
He gets on top of you and buries his face in your neck. Through lighthearted giggles, you say, “You’re heavy, big bear…” While making no effort to push him away. He feels like a weighted blanket you always wanted when you’re younger. Warm and snuggly. Gentle and tender. He smells like a pillow and his hair is soft. He loves it when your fingers thread through his hair, just caressing the glorious length, he’ll make sounds that are so lovely. You brushed your lips on top of his head and one arm around him. They never meet the total length of his shoulders because they were too broad. So you end up scratching the fabric of his thin shirt. Had the weather been warm enough, he would have rather slept in his skins. You whispered softly, as you felt him drifting back to sleep in his new found comfort, “If you don’t get up now, we are going to be very late…”
And we won’t be able to help around like we planned.
Jeju’s beaches are breathtakingly beautiful. Especially in Handam. Where the waters are brilliant blue and the skies azure. The black rocks, rubbles, kissing the shore. It would make a fine painting, this scenery. Taehyung poked his head out the caravan door at you,
“I thought you said we’re late?”
You glanced over your shoulder and gave him a sheepish smile. Jogging lightly back into the caravan, you pinched his sides as you walked in.
In fact, you weren’t late. You were not late at all. Taehyung’s eyes had always been inviting. Beautiful brown irises so encapsulating they almost felt unreal. It was those eyes that your friends recognised. They quickly adopted him once he carried in all the groceries like he is one of them. The crowd roars as they see you because they know it will shrink you. You were never good at crowds, so you covered your ears and physically shrunk while laughing till your eyes turned to crescents on their own. Quickly, the host came to the rescue, gathering you in her arms and calling off those people that are bothering you. At once, Taehyung had disappeared to make new friends and greet the old ones.
“A baby shower, this late?” you stared at your friend, Junhee quizzically. She pursed her lips and stared off to the corner of the room while tucking your arm in hers.
“I wanted an excuse to see my good friend,” she said with a cunning grin, then she cowers, falls silent in a sudden, her palm rubbing over her swollen belly. Nine months in, any day now. You knew in your heart that it was a bad idea, but still, her husband, Jimin, felt like it was okay to hold these gatherings for her. Jimin would do anything to make her happy. Then, she hisses. And you start to cower over her, pulling the chair closer for her to sit.
“Is it the contraction? Has any contraction happened today?”
“No, this is the first…”
Junhee seemed to have calmed down after she rested. You still wanted to talk to Jimin if you had the time, asking why he’d think it was a good idea to hold the party anyways. You had your answer when he walked in, snapping the fridge door open for a cold drink refill.
“She looked so miserable these past few days, I just wanted to see her smile,” Jimin carried two bottles of fruit punch as he brushed shoulders with you. Then, a toddler came crawling in, on all fours, stopping just by your feet and falling onto her bum and sat. Her twinkling eyes ushers you to carry her up.
“Where did you come from, little one?” You cooed. She curls up to your neck, and starts babbling. Then you suddenly felt her little hand roaming around your clothed boobs, and when she felt she found the tip, she began suckling. And you laughed out loud. Loud enough to have everyone's attention on you, including Taehyung’s. The baby’s mother rushed to you in her loose ponytail, handling another two slightly older children that were at her feet. One is tugging at her blouse and the other wailing so loud, you became concerned. You helped her into a nursing room, Jimin’s wife had prepared. It was a short tattling walk away from where you were. The baby was hungry. She’s four months old and today was her first day out since she was born and was brought home. You were glad that the number of guests didn’t scare one bit.
Taehyung had distributed the barbecued sausages to the kids around. He had the sharp sticks taken out and was helping to blow the heat from the sausages from one of the kids. He looks pretty much at home with everything. It’s probably been awhile because he finally saw you out the room carrying the baby, her little stodgy fingers curled around your thumb and she is gurgling. What a beautiful sight it was. It seemed you might have heard his thoughts when you looked up to the side and had the baby waved to Taehyung. He chuckles through his nose and crinkles his eyes at the little one, making a funny face. The little toddler extended her short petite arms and grabbed air repeatedly at Taehyung’s presence. Then you motioned her closer to Taehyung.
“I think she wants you to carry her…”
“Me?” He sounded unsure, uncertain, but, he brushed invisible dust off his palm on his butt and, “It’s been awhile but. Okay.” Arms open, collecting the toddler in.
The pinkish hue of her skin, her soft supple cheek, her little angel hairband, and twinkling, gleaming smile. Taehyung memorised her scent like a wolf would to a pup, with his eyes shut, his nose nudging on her softness. His arms held her gently but firmly. It felt like there was only him and the baby, he shut every other sound. When he held that baby, there’s stillness in the air, the noises ceased to exist, the visions clouded and the heaven’s hinted; it was his calling. It felt very much like sinking and flying at the same time. It was as if the world stood still, the time stopped and the anticipation grew. A lifetime in a second. Gold rush, a dam broke and first rain in the desert. Taehyung eyes fluttered open to the view of the baby’s rosy cheeks and immediately searched for you. Any semblance of you.
But you were kneeling by Jimin’s wife laying body on the floor.
Taehyung padding over the wooden balcony into the living room. In daze, Taehyung passed the baby over to her mother and closed into you. Your mouth was moving but for some reason, his brain couldn’t string the words. You were screaming but he heard nothing until seconds after.
“Call 911!” You ordered. There was a puddle of water where she once stood.
Meanwhile, you’re massaging her tummy. Jimin’s at the other end, and people pooling in to watch. The men are asked to wait outside with the kids for the ambulance. Taehyung had his hand on the house phone, and as he tried to arrange his words, his attention flew to you and your alarmed eyes. Your lips read,
“Speak slowly… clearly.”
The dial tone ended and, “We need. Ambulance. Birth. A woman is giving birth, please send in an ambulance.” He turns to you again and right now, you have all the ladies lined up.
“Okay, listen. Towels, all of it, blankets, pillows, sterile gloves, plastic bags, and Jimin,” you listed. Everyone spreads around to get everything. Towels from upstairs, blankets from the laundry room, pillows from the guest room and plastic bags from the kitchen drawers. Even Jimin who was outside waiting for the ambulance is being carried in by Jungkook. Taehyung handed a plastic cup of water. Jimin has his wife’s head cradled in his lap, padded with pillows and she’s holding her hand.
“I told you this was a good idea…” she joked, “I only trust her around…”
“I have only delivered a baby once in my life and that was in nursing school, that does not mean this was a correct choice, Junhee…” you half scolded her.
“I wouldn’t have it in any other way,” she said with a big smile before she hisses in pain and clenching around Jimin’s fingers. Then she groaned till veins were popping on her forehead. Jimin kept on peppering kisses and wiping her sweat with warm water. She continues to wretch and shiver. She felt cramps in her abdomens, churning. So she retched. What a relief she had her husband on the side. Jimin’s whispering words of affirmations and it really helped her calm down. Although she is really not far from giving birth. She is 9 centimetres dilated.
“Where is the ambulance?” You asked in a rushed tone.
“Any minute now!” Someone at the door informed.
That’s not good enough. She will be 10 centimetres in no time and if the ambulance isn’t here by then, the baby will drown. She is perfectly ready for vaginal delivery, you grab a towel, place it underneath her openings and tell her to push until she feels the contraction. Work with the contraction and push as hard as she could. You also massaged to make sure the baby’s head was out first. From the physical examinations, the baby’s head is visible. All that’s left to do is for Junhee to push. You thought her the breathing method, and counted with her. Even Jimin’s following suit.
“Deep breaths, sweetheart. You can do this…” you reminded her, “And then we’re gonna go again, okay?”
“I think I’m going to vomit…” Jimin fetches the bag from the side and vomits. Taehyung gulped, watching the fiasco from the side. He watches his wife carefully guiding, and assuring and giving space towards the mother to feel as comfortable as she can.
Junhee was obedient and she was cooperating. She was entirely under your care. You can see from her eyes that she trusted you with her life. She had been, ever since you knew her. And now, she entrusted you with her life and her baby’s life. Junhee delivers a big push and this time the baby slides out into your arm along with it’s placenta. The detachment is healthy, and you quickly glance to the time, on the grandpa’s clock on the corner,
“Someone note the time!”
“3:47PM!”
You placed the baby on his mother’s arm, a healthy baby boy. Another warm towel on his tiny body and his mom’s tired laugh. He is red and warm and crying, lungs are not congested. But still you need to wait for the ambulance. You placed the placenta into the bag Taehyung opened and told Jimin to hold them up. You refused to cut the umbilical cord without proper tools. It’s not sterile here to do so and there’s no medical back-up should anything go wrong. You told everyone to stay put until the ambulance arrived. Taehyung caught your eyes from across the room and slowly, you drew a smile on your face, contradicting his worried one. And again, in this lifetime, even when he was most concerned about you, you told him with your eyes that you’re okay. Even at this distance.
“Who delivered the baby?” the ambulance personnel yelled, his voice seeped in, through the windows to you, while you were cleaning up the living room.
Taehyung rushed to the door with a panicked look on his face and you sprinted out.
They gave you the scissors.
“The ma’am wanted you to cut the umbilical cord instead of the father, will you do the honors?” The man in medical assistant uniform smiled at you. You took the scissors in your hand and you glanced up at her, tears welling up in your eyes and you cried, “Yes, of course, yes…”
“She’s a retired nurse, I never once worried about my life when she’s around,” Park Junhee boasted as she was carried into the ambulance. Jimin climbed in, too. You followed the ambulance close while Taehyung drove Jimin’s car. It’s to help them later, if Jimin needs to return home. Taehyung left the car parked in the hospital parking area and climbed into your shared caravan. He offered to drive. And as he was driving, and talking about how cool you were as the night fell, he heard nothing from your side. You had already fallen asleep. Defeated by the tiredness. He stops at the same spot this morning and lowered your chair. He fetches a blanket from the bed and tucked you in warm. You moaned and switched to your side. He leans over you and plants a firm kiss on your head. As you swam deeper in your slumber, the stars twinkling in the sapphire blue sky, the moon stood witness to the feeling Taehyung had over you. He lowered his own chair to watch you sleep with a smile and fondness in his eyes.
His soft curls fall over the hood of his eyes, touching the bridge of his nose as he clamors in renewed emotions he felt for you. Such pure love, the kind that authors would write about in novels, many years ago. He is so in love, his feet are levitating from the ground it seemed. One of those wishes thrown at the shooting skies had come true. Broken pieces of him, finally held together, and the last piece was in a form of a person. He extended his arm to reach yours, and you took them in like a soft toy. He gladly cuffed himself to you, it's been his fate. Lips, body and soul, is yours. The bell resonated from the far back of his mind, of when soulmates found each other. His heart thumping so loudly he feared you might have heard them. You have stirred something inside him he doesn’t quite understand yet. Rain or snow, storms or deserts, it's your hand he wanted to hold. He wants to create a home so comfy for you and maybe, in between you two, a baby that’s both his and yours. Someone to carry his name. Symphonies of violin when he watches you sleep. Like an orchestra coming together.
Walking down the street in the morning, you wore beige knitted cardigan, hands intertwined. He swings your hand with a big toothy grin on his face. His soft curls flying in the wind, his deep chuckle sparking your insides with excitement. You wanted to choose a gift for Jimin and Junhee’s baby boy who is now at the hospital. With this man’s hand who made your heart ascend in the small of your back, it felt like you could do anything. An older woman who was also a customer in the small shop gave you both a big smile.
“Newly weds?” She asked.
“Why? Do we seem like so?” You asked her warmly.
“We've been married for almost 2 years now…” Taehyung corrected her.
The older woman chuckled, and then her smile faltered, crestfallen on a vision it seemed, “Such soulmates are rare… You looked so good together, such a beautiful couple…” Taehyung wanted to buy a small necklace for the older women. He grabbed one that caught his eyes and dashed out the shop’s door, but the old woman had disappeared.
“She walked really fast for someone her age…” Taehyung spoke to himself, squinting hard at the distance in both directions. To see if there’s any semblance of the friendly old woman anywhere. It’s like she vanished. When he returned to the shop, you asked him to buy you a glass ball with a bear reading and confettis inside. It was nothing special for Taehyung but you wanted it so he bought them without much thought. In the caravan, it was placed on the dashboard with a double tape, securely glued.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we have our own little one?” Taehyung stared at his friend Jimin, cooing his little baby.
“Could we?” Your smile faded as you bore into the view of the glass. You turned to him with a broken smile, “At my age?”
“You’re not as old as you think you are…” Taehyung said. And did he prove them well. Nine months later, you were holding his arm as you walked out of the apartment door with Jimin’s wife on the phone, telling you that she had arrived. Unlike her, you wanted to be at the hospital when the water broke. The same beige cardigan you wore on her child’s birthday,you wore today. It’s already old and strings were coming out at the ends but you insisted. Taehyung carried you bridal style into the car, towels ready. His arms were yours to clench on and while you were groaning, he was biting his lips at the same force. You clawed into his flesh as he calmed you down. Jimin was driving and his wife was teaching you the same breathing method you taught her. You plastered your face into Taehyung’s neck. Hair stuck into your forehead as you sweat profusely, fighting through the incessant pain.
“I have the hazard lights on, we will make it on time, don’t worry bud…” Jimin said in a rushed tone.
In the delivery room, Taehyung was dressed in all blue, masks and gloves, just like the doctors and nurses. There’s only his eyes, but you recognise them so well. One look, in that delivery room, meant only for you. Light hearted jokes and hand held tight. He pressed his lips on your whitened knuckles the whole time. His tears fell like diamonds as he watches you push with all your strength, a baby that is his. No words exchanged, but you saw enough. He was in love, so direly in love. Memories flash in the back of your mind, under clenched eyes, kisses on the sidewalks, love declarations under the heavy rain. The way he lifts you to the sky in that storm, slowly sliding you down his body, enough for you to place your forehead on his. His wide gaping smile, drenched in the night under the lamp post, warm wafts of breaths escaped his lips. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him hard. You couldn’t hear what the midwives are saying, but you know one thing, this is the ultimate gift you could give the man that has given you everything.
One last push, and a shrilling tiny cry accompanied. Taehyung looked at you and linked his forehead on yours. You’ve gone pale. So pale. Your lips were blue and your eyes were drooping. You are coming in and out of consciousness. The doctors had to lead Taehyung out of the delivery room, they had to perform operations. You were too tired to continue pushing. But before he leaves, you brushed your lips on his left cheek, and you tell him in your last bits of strength,
“I-I love you. So-so much...Thank you…”
Taehyung’s hand was separated from yours. He was grabbing air just as yours were holding out.
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Today.
“Taehyung, tea?” His mother greeted him. He and his easel in use. He shook his head. And from inside the caravan. Small pair of hands curled on the handles, to push the door open. Carrying a beige cardigan. Four feets putting on shoes and padded to their father. With brown irises twinkling at Taehyung’s back, no older than four years old, Taehyung glanced over his shoulder and spread his arms. One in each arm.
You watched them from the caravan, and it felt like you were right there. You could almost touch him, his hair, the slope of his nose. The babies. The babies are all grown. You could almost smell the sea. The breeze you knew so well. But you can’t.
Six years ago.
Taehyung returned home with the babies. Dressed in all black, he has to head back out again, to send his wife. When he returned, he saw the babies sleeping on their side, covered by the beige cardigan. He rushes outside to where the caravan’s were. His mother caught him just in time as he fell to the ground, shivering and calling out your name repeatedly. His mother cradles him in her lap.
“Release, my child. Release your agony…” Taehyung’s mother cradled her baby boy in her arms and Taehyung let out a cry, heart-thumping, guttural screaming cry as he let out the grief he had kept in the silent since he saw your casket lowered, six-feet underground, a baby in his arms, sleeping, coddled in her late mother’s knitted cardigan she wore when she was at the hospital, trying to have her. Taehyung looked up at the sky that strangely bright day, and a single drop of rain fell to the left side of his cheek where his wife had kissed before she went away.
God is neither late nor early.
God took one of His angels back home to Him. Left two behind in Taehyung’s care.
warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount: 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You: you not coming in tonight?
You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang: party tonight
You: so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You: i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You: they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You: you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You: charming x
Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.
You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed.
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new home—"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung.
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?"
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's not—"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too.
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you wha—"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But I—"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips.
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want them—"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
