summary: You’re busy studying but kookie wants to play. Really bad.
warnings: sexual coercion, whiny jungkook...like really whiny. he is OBSESSED with reader’s tits, toxic behavior, manipulation, begging, body worship. a lot of body worship, praise kink, dirty talk, potentially dubcon(?) idk jungkook is being super problematic in this but its subtle, unprotected sex, lots of cursing
word count: 2k
It had been a busy weekend, filled with late night study sessions, numerous coffee runs, and barely any time to breathe. You reclined on the living room couch of your apartment, typing away busily on your laptop, back against the armrest and legs out in front of you. Your feet rested comfortably in the lap of your best friend, Jeon Jungkook, who absentmindedly was caressing up and down your calves. You didn’t mind. Jungkook and you were quite touchy with one another when it was just the two of you. He was like that though. The campus fuckboy. You knew that neither of you were in a place to be in a proper relationship, and that was perfectly okay with you.
Jungkook sighed, placing his own computer away. “Let’s take a break” He whined. You ignored him, too engrossed in finishing your assignment. If you had looked up you would have seen him pouting like a baby. He slowly slid under your arms so that he was laying on top of you as you continued to work, his head fitting perfectly in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped around you tightly as he nuzzled his face into you and then turned to see what you were working on.
“Take a break y/n”
You chuckled.
“I’m on a roll right now Kook. Don’t interrupt me” Jungkook sighed. He knew there was no convincing you. He continued to remain cuddled up against you as more time passed. He began getting impatient, eager for your attention to fall on him.
“You’ve been working so hard” He mumbled into you softly. “I’m really proud of you” This made you smile. It wasn’t something you heard often, so you couldn’t help but feel elated at his words. You stopped typing so that your hand could gently run through Jungkook’s hair as you stared at the screen in front of you.
“Thanks Kook” You took a deep breath before returning to your grind.
Jungkook pressed his lips ever so slightly against your collar, barely leaving a kiss. It tickled, sending almost a shock through your body. His lips were soft and wet, and felt scorching against your exposed skin.
“I know you’re busy, but can I play with your tits?”
You weren’t sure you had heard him right.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me” You felt him smirk against you. “Please, I won’t do anything I just wanna squeeze them”
You sighed. You reasoned that it wouldn’t pose as too much of a distraction for you, and if it would keep him occupied until you finished, you were willing to indulge him.
“Okay” Not a second was waisted before Jungkook’s hand left your waist and harshly groped your breast, the fabric of your shirt crumpling with his touch. He moans softly, so softly that he didn’t think you heard him. But you did. You definitely did.
He props himself up so that he can use both his hands to massage your breasts, laying across you. You peer over his shoulder, attempting to continue focusing. He drags the collar of your shirt down the center of your neck with his finger, watching as the fabric reveals your cleavage slowly, before allowing him access to your bra. He keeps your shirt pulled down as he traces the lacey detail. His hands become softer now, as he uses his thumbs to rub circles on your nipples. He wants nothing more than to suck them. He wants you to suffocate him with them. He wants to feel them squashed around his dick as he pounds into you.
He instead slips his hands under the bra to feel the hot plump skin beneath them. He lets out much louder moan, not even caring that you heard it. He began playing with them roughly again, squeezing them tight, allowing his fingers to stretch and really get a handful of you. He moved them around, wanting to feel something more. His movements were almost painful, but you tried not to pay attention. What broke you was when you glanced down to see his big doe eyes peering up at you from between them, hands tight around your chest like he was holding on for his life, his eyes blasted with lust and yearning.
“Having fun?” You choked slightly as you spoke as his ministrations continued, trying to appear unaffected. He chuckled.
“I love them so much, fuck you have the best tits y/n. I think about them all the time”
“I always took you for more of an ass guy”
Jungkook finally stopped, getting up to put your laptop away. You didn’t try to stop him. You knew you weren’t going to be able to work now. He then dove back into you, this time his hands finding their way behind you and harshly kneading your ass, pushing you up into him slightly. You felt his hardening length press into your stomach ever so slightly, making your heart race. He began licking the top of your chest.
“I love them both.” He groaned, the vibration of his voice in your chest making your legs twitch. “You’re so perfect. You’re so fucking perfect oh my god” He latched his mouth onto your breast over the fabric of your bra, using his teeth and tongue to get around the fabric so he could suckle you directly.
Now it was your turn to moan, heat pooling between your legs as you unconsciously bucked your hips. His tongue was running rampant against you, the hot sensation driving you insane. He opened his mouth even wider, pulling more of you into his mouth and sucking harshly. His other hand snaked down your body to find your shorts, beginning to pull them down.
With a pop, he left your breast, making you whine at the sudden hit of cold air on your nipples. He helped you undress quickly, then sat upright for a moment, just staring down at you, his eyes moving over your naked body like a vulture. He licked his lips.
“I wanna fuck you” He exhaled.
“Really, I couldn’t tell” Your sarcasm wasn’t cute to him. Not right now. And that only made you want to tease him more. Still fully clothed, he lowers himself back onto you and looks you straight in the eye, face hovering barely inches fro yours.
“Please y/n. Please. Fuck. This is all I want. I don’t want to do anything else. Fuck studying, fuck everything, I just wanna fuck you. Over and over and over again until I can’t anymore. I want to die buried in your sweet sweet pussy. I want you to ride my cock forever” He was panting almost feverishly. His words, while turning you on, were somewhat concerning, but you knew he was probably just really horny.
“Jungkook…not now…I really need to finish my paper. You said you would just play with my tits” You did want to fuck him. But the logical part of your brain was telling you to save rewards for when you deserved them, and right now, you had other things you needed to take care of that were more important than Jungkook’s raging hormones.
Jungkook looked like he was either about to start crying or punch something. His jaw clenched at your refusal, knowing that he had to listen but wanting you so incredibly bad.
“Okay” He exhaled backing away. “Yeah, um” His chest was heaving and you could see sweat forming at his forehead. He tried to look anywhere but at you. He swallowed, trying to get his heart rate to calm down.
But he just couldn’t do it. He pulled his shirt off and wrapped his arms around you again. “Please. Can I just…I’ll be super fast, can I just…a little?” His sentences were incoherent. It was turning you on how bad he wanted you. “Five minutes? Pleaseeee” He whined. You sighed, looking at the boy in front of you. His toned muscles not helping your decision making.
“Y/n I might actually die. Like I will explode if I don’t get to shove myself inside of you right now. Please please please”
You say nothing, moaning slightly as Jungkook kicks off his sweats so you can feel the direct contact of his tip against your wet folds.
“Baby…fuck…you’re so wet baby, I know you want to. I…I’ll be quick okay. Just let me get off this one time”
“Jungkook” You moan again as his hand guides his tip to make circles in your clit.
Something in him snaps, and the next thing you know his hand is around your neck and his dick is entering you.
“Jungkook! What the fuck!”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Jungkook was panting. He filled you up completely until he was flush against you. He stilled for a moment, fearfully looking in your eyes for a reaction.
“I’m not a fucking toy you can’t just put your dick inside me because you’re feeling horny” You snapped at him.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry…I just…” He really didn’t have anything to say. You realized then that you were wrong. To him, you were like a toy. Someone there to pound into when he felt the need.
And somehow.
You kinda liked that.
You pushed his hair behind his ear and cupped his cheek softly. His eyes widened as you kissed him softly.
“It’s okay. Take your time. Fuck me as long as you want to”
“A…are you sure?”
You nodded, and to make sure he believed you, you pulled his face down in between your breasts. He groaned, gripping your ass again and starting to move in and out of you slowly. He made sure to savor every second he was in your dripping cunt.
“Do you know” He exhales, “do you even know how fucking HOT you are? Do you know what you do to me?” The obscene sounds of his slow grinding filled the room, harmonizing with both of your soft moans. Your nails scratched against his back as you tilted your head back, basking in the feeling of the way his cock goes in and out and in and out. Jungkook reaches back up to cover your mouth with his. Kissing you tenderly, like he had all the time in the world.
He breaks away just to gaze at you, stilling his movements. You furrow your brows in confusion. His thumb traces the side of your face as his eyes gleam with adoration.
“I love seeing you like this y/n” He carefully slides out to sit up, kneeling above your body, gazing at your every crevice. “How did I get so lucky” He whispered more to himself than anything.
He stokes himself with one hand while the other finds your clit, driving you to your edge. “I’m gonna cum on your tits. I’m gonna cum all over you because you’re mine. Fucking goddess, you’re the hottest girl in the world. I could just” He lets out an aggressive moan, his hands moving faster, “So fucking pretty. So fucking hot holy shit” He’s going as fast as he can now, words falling apart as he whines towards his release, “So fuck pretty fuck all mine” Just when you think he’s about to cum all over you he shoves himself back into you thrusting furiously.
“Jungkook!” You scream. You weren’t on the pill, and he very much did not have a condom on. “Stop”
“No…no…fuck…you’re so hot. You’re so hot y/n please please. I…I love you…please I need you so bad. Let me please…say it…tell me its okay. tell me you want my cum”
You were so shocked and confused, but his thrusting was preventing you from thinking clearly.
Just give in You think to yourself. You’ll like it more if you stop fucking thinking so much
As if he hears your thoughts, he slows down to a stop and looks at you. “If you really want me to pull out I will” His eyes looked so sincere that you couldn’t possibly deny him. You shook your head.
“You’re right…it’s okay…it’s probably fine”
Jungkook paused, as if a realization just hit him and his demeanor shifted entirely.
“Are you sure?”
You nod.
“Do you like it? Do you feel good?”
You nod. He strokes your face again, tracing your lips before biting him with his own. “Mmm” He moans into your mouth loudly as he hands push your legs up around his waist. “So fucking sweet. I can’t get enough of you” He starts making small thrusts, but forceful ones. It hurt but it felt so good at the same time. He doesn’t leave your lips for a second, as he continued to moan dirty things straight into you.
“You feel so good. So damn good. You don’t even know how many guys would kill for this. Best.” His thrusts get harsher with every word, “Pussy. I’ve. Ever. Fucked. My. Sexy. Little. Whore. All. Mine. Could. Fuck you. Forever.” His words speed up hectically, his body losing control as both of you arrive at your peaks, “FUCK, baby baby baby” He kisses your lips with a smack, “Say it’s mine baby. Say it’s only for me. Only I can fuck you like this.” He cries out in ecstasy. Seeing him so fucked out and gone turns you on and you feel your orgasm wash over you, pussy clenching down tightly, causing him to yelp. “Oh my godddd” You finally notice the way your bead is creaking loudly under Jungkook’s loud moans. His cum shoots inside you, filling you up in a way you had never experienced before. He drops down onto you, his arms on either side of your head and his face in your neck, softly nibbling.
“That was so good” He can barely even get his words out through his heavy breaths. His cock is still inside you, “You’re incredible” He kisses you again, softly, adoringly.
“Kook?”
“Mmhm” He answers between kisses.
“Do you like me?”
“Of course I do baby” He murmurs, clearly not taking much mind to your questions.
“No like, you kept saying I’m yours and things like that” He pauses to look at you.
“You are mine” He kisses your forehead, “I care about you. You know that. But I’m not proud of who I am. And I can’t drag you down with me. God, I would fuck you forever and ever if I could y/n. I would love you, I...I do...but I can’t. I’m pathetic. You deserve better” He sighed. Your heart wrenched. Looking at the boy in front of you now, those comforting eyes who were always there. Your heart swelled with emotion as you realized that maybe there was something more here.
“Do it” You barely whispered, causing Jungkook to tremble at the tone of your voice.
— synopsis: Out of all the things in the world, one final project at the end of the semester was the least of your expectations. What you didn’t expect, though, was partnering up with Kim Taehyung, the most respected senior artist on campus. But what the—he wants to do what with you?!
↳ pairing: taehyung x f. reader
↳ genre: f2l, smut
↳ rating: 18+
↳ word count: 17.4k
↳ warnings: dom/sub themes, virgin/corruption kink, unprotected sex, slight size kink, degradation, oral sex (m and f receiving), breeding, name-calling, faceslapping, ragdoll y/n lol kidding, Taehyung doesn’t care that OC’s a virgin, if you get what I mean, everything consensual
Reminder: Before you read, I just want to say that I am nowhere near an art student so some pointers, terms, or subjects that are stated on this fanfic might be incorrect or misused. I tried to fact-check to the best of my abilities haha! Enjoy!
Giving the portfolio back to your possession, he speaks at the same time: “It’s still a suggestion after all. You can tell me yours if you have one.”
You chuckle at that. Little did he know that your mind was too busy overthinking how things stacked up instead of brainstorming an idea. Since you feel more comfortable with him than before, you tell the truth.
“I have absolutely no idea,” you snicker.
“Yeah?” he smirks, nodding his head once. “I hate to say this, but this is the only concept I’ve got as well.” Taehyung sits down crossed-legged beside you on the bed, tapping his fingers on his pile of nude portraits.
“Then I’ve got no choice but to say yes.”
Taehyung feels his heart thump rapidly in his chest.
You sat silently at the very back of the lecture hall, sipping on your Iced Americano as you doodled aimlessly at the back of your sketchpad, listening to music through your headphones. The room was still empty, being one of the few ones to arrive early.
“Y/n!”
You jump when a hand suddenly smacks your desk, looking up to see who it was.
Lee Yeseul. You were tempted to roll your eyes at her, but you knew better. She leans at the back of someone’s chair, staring down at you with her signature annoying smirk. She touches her ears, wanting you to remove your headphones. Not complying with her demand, you continue to draw, completely disregarding her. You do not want to waste your time dealing with a bitch that wants attention.
Yeseul grunts in annoyance as she steps forward, removing the device away from your head.
You groan from her aggressiveness. “Hey! What the—” She throws your headphones on your desk.
She scoffs, “I was trying to talk to you, loser.”
You send her a glare, “I thought people like you don’t talk to losers like me.”
Yeseul was – as cringy as it may sound – your typical, spoiled brat in her class who bullies everyone for her gratification. She thinks that she’s the best artist on this campus and always discourages everyone below her. She’s a senior artist, and you were still a freshman. Plus, you are always unaccompanied and private, making you the perfect target. But you were smarter than other people. You didn’t give her the reaction and satisfaction that she needs, shrugging her away when she tries to make a move on you.
Adding to that, you liked to be alone. You like to think and create paintings on your own time and own style. You focused more on uniqueness and making your own color and design, while others just wanted their painting to be pretty.
“Leave me alone, Yeseul. You’re wasting your time.”
She laughs, tucking a strand of her ashy-brown hair behind her ear. “Whatever, Y/n. I think you’re the one who’s wasting their time drawing.”
Is she actually serious?
“Dumbass,” you mutter under your breath, not enough for Yeseul to hear. You still don’t look at her as you continue your little portrait of Captain America. “I think you’re forgetting that we’re both an art student, Yeseul. Get away from me and go hang out with your boyfriends or something.”
You hear her gasp, clearly struck by your words. Yeseul hasn’t got a boyfriend which was the point of your remark. She always tries so hard to seduce every senior artist, but everyone was clever enough to focus on their projects rather than deal with an annoying child like her.
“Oh, Y/n. You wished you never said that.” She spoke with a deep and slow voice, trying to intimidate you.
You chuckle as you place your headphones back, “Oooh, scary.”
Before she could even retort, you notice that your professor has come inside the room and you quickly discard your headset and shove it inside your bag. Yeseul scurries to her seat in the front row as other colleagues pack the room.
Normally, the freshman and senior artists would have their separate rooms and schedules, but earlier today, the head professor of the Arts District had announced all students to gather inside the hall. You didn’t know the reason why, or what she had planned.
“Everyone, take a seat please,” the professor beamed with a kind smile.
Unexpectedly, loud laughter resonates around the room as a group of boys suddenly enter, not noticing the professor in front of them.
“I swear, she looked like a deer in headlights when I said those words to her. Ten out of ten would do it again.” One of them says out loud, eyes disappearing from smiling too much. You chuckle in your seat as you sip on your coffee.
“Boys.”
They all jumped simultaneously, turning towards the professor’s direction where she had her hands on her hips, clearly pissed. They bowed at her, stating their apologies.
“Kim Taehyung, still hanging out with these kids? I thought you’re better than that.”
Kim Taehyung, the top senior artist. All A’s, immaculate artworks.
He has the highest scores out of everyone, his artwork better than all of the Fine Arts students. Tons of students really look up to him and almost praise him for his paintings. Not only that, but he was also Yeseul’s target. You flick your eyes in her direction, watching how she rests her chin on her right palm, staring at Taehyung in awe.
But in all honesty, Taehyung had the looks. He has slightly wavy hair, his dark brown eyes similar to the color of your Americano. His face was shaped perfectly like it was created by Aphrodite herself. You figure that he also likes to work out, his broad chest and shoulders were undoubtedly eye-catching as well. You lick your lips unknowingly.
He wasn’t a troublemaker, as you recall, though he only hangs out with such people. Whenever you see his artwork posted around the campus, it encourages you to put more effort into your work. He was just like you. He’s not following anyone’s lead, and he knows what he likes. He knows how to stand out effortlessly, and his paintings are one of a kind.
And still, there was not a single molecule in your system that had the courage for you to talk to him. No matter how kind and approachable he seems to be, you were still shy – and he was still intimidating. Not to mention his friends. You never had a good past with some seniors anyway – some of them had a mindset that all freshmen should ‘get on their level’ before they would talk to them. All of it was a bunch of nonsense.
Taehyung doesn’t say anything in reply to the professor, instead, he bows. All seven of them sat a few rows in front of you. You caught sight of Yeseul’s dirty look towards you.
She’s so immature.
“Anyway, all of you are probably wondering why I brought you here.” You don’t notice that your coffee is already empty until you only hear slurping sounds, your straw trying to get more of the liquid. Frowning, you slumped your body on the chair as you listened.
The professor suddenly brings out a folder, making your intrusiveness grow wider. “I have paired every one of you to work on a year-end project for portraiture.”
You could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop to the ground.
“Each freshman will be paired with one senior, and the two must decide who will do the work.”
You hear recurring gasps and groans; agreeing to your thoughts. “That’s bullshit,” you heard someone grumble under their breath.
“Everyone, let me clarify. Since my class focuses on portraitures, one of you will draw, and the other one will be your muse. But I still should see the collaboration of ideas here.”
“No way, madam.” One of Taehyung’s friends quickly speaks as he stands up, making their group laugh, and pull him back down to his seat, patting his back.
“Yes way, Mr. Kim Seokjin. I want everyone to trust me with their partners. I know each of my students and I’ve paired everyone based on the similarities of your portfolio. This is to build everyone’s ability to work with a fellow artist, and to share ideas.”
You snort as she mentions all the things you hate the most.
“The pair who has the highest score will have their painting displayed inside the Fine Arts Exhibition building.” Your eyes enlarge, irises sparkling in abrupt desire.
The Exhibition!
You’ve tried so hard to get one of your art exhibited inside that place. It was where some lucky students’ creations will be shown if their professors liked their work specifically, or if it stood out to them. It was almost rare for professors to choose art made by a freshman, but you wanted to change that. You received hope for this project all of the sudden, and the Fine Arts Exhibition was the only thing that’s currently driving you to your goal.
“And by the way, there are no limits for this project. Any concept, any art style is appreciated – as always.”
Your professor was already announcing partners, and your heart was thumping too fast for your liking. You bite your lip from the horrible atmosphere, your palms getting sweaty. You acknowledge a lot of sighs and grunts when they hear their partners, and you just wish that you’ll get someone assiduous enough.
“Kim Namjoon with Sing Junghoon, Park Jimin with Yong Hyesa, Kim Taehyung with…” you didn’t know you were holding your breath as she flips the page.
The world feels like it was in slow motion.
“Kim Taehyung with Y/n.”
Silence fell inside the room once you heard your name fall unexpectedly from your professor’s lips. You hear a couple of murmurs and whispers as Taehyung swivels around to look at you. His eyes meet with your wide ones in complete shock. Taehyung’s face was not as different as yours; his mouth was slightly open and his eyes big. A couple of his friends look at you as well, making your face warm in embarrassment.
No fucking way.
“You really think that you could work with her?” Park Jimin asked, still scanning the utter turmoil that Taehyung was in. Taehyung doesn’t reply as he keeps his eyes on you, eating your lunch with your friends. He sees how you weren’t keeping track of what your friends were even saying from being so immersed in your meal. Taehyung watches you flip your hair to one side of your shoulder.
“Hey,” Jimin nudges his shoulder.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Jimin scoffs, “I asked you how you are supposed to work with a girl like her.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he lets out a sarcastic chuckle, still keeping an eye on you. One of your friends suddenly snatches a piece of meat from your plate and runs away with it, instantly plopping it inside her mouth. You don’t even bother scolding her for it.
Taehyung tilts his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “I don’t know, man. But we’ll see. I’ll figure her out.”
He turns to Seokjin, who was looking at him suspiciously. “Stop staring her down like she’s a piece of meat. What are you thinking about?”
“So how are you with you and Lee Minseo?”
Seokjin laughs at his attempt, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re not so smooth, Taehyung. Anyway, Minseo and I have talked about it already. We’re meeting up tomorrow.”
Taehyung frowns, slightly jealous of his friend. Seokjin already has everything planned out when he doesn’t, and it was a first for him.
Normally, Taehyung was always the first one to have everything arranged. But he just doesn’t know anything about you besides being so introverted and shy. “You, go approach her, immediately.”
He turns to Seokjin while his eyes narrow, “Right now?”
“Yeah. Don’t you wanna finish this project as soon as possible? Taehyung, you have to know who you’re working with first. Y/n probably won’t make the first move, and I know that you know that.”
Taehyung runs his tongue along his bottom lip, observing how you were nodding and smiling at your small group. He hasn’t seen any of your artwork yet, and he was curious.
Maybe it was just like his: distinct and unique. The kind where there’s no specific explanation to it, for it was open to interpretation. The words of your professor repeat inside Taehyung’s mind, and his body suddenly fills with optimism.
Seokjin laughs at him. He sees how Taehyung’s face changes with determination, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “Go, Taehyung.”
He smirks as he slings his bag around his shoulders.
Who are you, and what do you like, Y/n?
“Why are you not excited about this, Y/n? You’ve partnered up with Kim Taehyung! Your work will end up inside the exhibition for sure!” Seoyun, one of the few people that you were friends with says with a huge smile on her face. You look down, blushing. You don’t know why but every time someone mentions his name, you immediately turn shy.
“I don’t exactly know how I’m supposed to feel, Seoyun.”
“Y/n, seriously, you’re so lucky. He’s the top student, and he’s also very tall and hot!”
You blush at Hayoon’s statement.
“But I mean, I understand that you’re shy to come up to him, but it’s for a project, Y/n. Don’t you wanna do this for the exhibition?”
You frown, “I do, but I just…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try to talk to him someday when I get the confidence. Maybe.”
“Y/n…” Seoyun warns your name out loud, her eyes focused somewhere behind you. “I think that someday is today.”
“Nope. Perhaps tomorrow.”
Seoyun panics and grits her teeth as she speaks, “No, I mean, like right now!”
You crease your eyebrows at her, “What do you mean?”
Your eyes followed where Seoyun was looking at and you turned around, almost shitting your pants as you saw the one and only Kim Taehyung behind you, smiling as he grips his bag straps. Your mouth opens as you try to speak, but nothing comes out. He was wearing a black button-up tucked inside black slacks. His hair is slightly wavy and long that covers the top of his eyes. His appearance up close immediately took your breath away.
“Hey, Y/n,” he smiled, eyes narrowing a little as he flashed you a cute heart-like smile. You could’ve sworn you heard your friends squeal just a little.
But you, on the other hand, start to panic. Were you supposed to stand up and greet him? Or should you just sit there and smile without being too obvious of your feelings? You remove your gaze from him and look down on the cemented floor as you try to find your words.
“Hi,” you peek up at him.
You can feel Hayoon stepping on your foot, making you screech quietly. She gives you a look that says ‘get a grip!’, and you try your best not to fuck up.
Taehyung chuckles silently and steps forward, making your heart race. He sits on the space next to you, letting his bag rest on the floor of the cafeteria.
You were too close to him at this moment. He never lost his eye contact with you – which made your chest pound rapidly. You nervously tap your foot on the ground, your friends clearly aware of your behavior.
“Do you girls mind if I sit here for a moment?”
They nod at his request, yet you were still there, sitting in shock and not saying anything. You let your hair fall to cover the sides of your face so that Taehyung can’t surely see you.
“So, how’s everyone’s day?” Taehyung asks, turning his attention to the two other girls. They instantly reply.
“You just made it better,” Hayoon beams, leaning her head on her right palm. The way she was scanning him up and down was just too obvious. Taehyung only nods with a smile.
If other people saw what was happening right now; Kim Taehyung, sitting with three other girls during lunch break, would probably assume things instantly. You already sense people burning holes at your back.
“Y/n?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly says right in your ear while your body jumps in surprise. He laughs a little at your reaction.
“Don’t worry about her, Taehyung. She’s probably just speechless.” You narrow your eyes as you give a death glare to Seoyun. Taehyung’s lips curve into a smirk as he looks down. His hair falls right in front of his eyes and it almost gives you a small instinct to brush it away from his face.
“So Y/n, I came here to ask you something,” Taehyung speaks as he scoots closer to you. You gulp at the sudden proximity, wanting to move away from him but you were afraid to look rude. You don’t reply, so Taehyung just continues. “Do you want to meet up after your schedule? You know, talk about the project?”
You hang your head low as you try to find the correct words. Of course, you want to get this project done as soon as possible, but just being with Taehyung was too much for you to handle – or that’s what you think anyway.
“Of course she does!” Hayoon exclaims first but Seoyun stops her furthermore.
“Hey,” he whispers beside you. Taehyung wishes to place his hand on your shoulder to assure you, but he stops himself. Taehyung finds yourself so endearing, even if you weren’t saying much. He’s already so engrossed by you, but heck – he still doesn’t know much about you.
He admits to himself that you’re cute.
“What do you think? I mean, if you want we can talk tomorrow. I’ll give you your time if you’re not comfortable with today and I’m sure I can—”
“No! No, um. We can meet today.” You cut him off immediately, finally using your voice again. You knew that both of you wanted to finish this project quickly, so you don’t want to lose any more time. Taehyung flashes you a gorgeous smile as he lifts a hand in front of you for a handshake.
“Great! Let’s meet up at the main gate later when you’re done with everything.”
You shyly reach out to him and you clasp your hands together, his slender hand bigger in comparison to yours. “Nice to meet you Y/n.”
You force out a small smile at him, “You too, Taehyung.”
Your hands stay together for a few seconds before he retrieves his hand back with a little smile. He grabs his bag and finally stands up, “Nice talking to you, ladies.” He gives a final smile and walks away.
You look behind you, keeping your eyes on him, and watch how he brushes his hair with his right hand, throwing his head back.
Park Jimin, who is also one of his friends, was waiting for him and he gives Taehyung a fist bump. Jimin suddenly locks eyes with you and gives you an unsuspecting wink. Your eyes become big and you quickly look away, turning your attention back to the girls who were looking at you with a wide grin.
You let out a deep sigh, your mind running with numerous thoughts. You were always like this; you tend to overanalyze things. The term ‘go with the flow’ wasn’t always a strong pursuit when it comes to you. There were times where you wanted to change this personality of yours and live life in the present, to stop yourself from thinking way too deep in the future, but change is difficult. You admit that you have problems with self-confidence, and you hope that you could change that.
Especially being partners with Taehyung. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him.
This is one of the reasons why you paint. It was always a contrivance to express your personality when your own words and actions couldn’t. You just bring out a canvas and some tools, and you can communicate your emotions.
You hope Taehyung won’t see you as weird. You hope he’d understand you.
Main gate. Main gate.
Did he already arrive? Or do I have to wait for him?
What if he doesn’t come and I just made a fool of myself?
Is it even three o’clock?
You bite your lip as you check your watch, and yes, it was exactly three o’clock.
What if I’m too early?
You groan at all of the thoughts that have been eating your mind. You grip the bag straps tighter as you keep walking towards the main gate where Taehyung told you to meet up. You hope that he’ll already be there because you didn’t want to wait at all.
“Y/n! Wait up!”
Oh, God. You knew who that voice belonged to.
You turn around and see a familiar ashy-brown hair, smiling at you. “What do you need, Yeseul?” You mutter.
She comes up beside you and smiles like she wasn’t just saying shit to you earlier at the lecture hall. “Where are you going?”
“The main gate,” you reply monotonously.
“Oh! Me too! Let’s walk together.” You sigh quietly, not loud enough that she could hear. You can already guess what she originally planned, and you were not prepared for it.
“How’s it like being partnered with Taehyung?”
You gulp, avoiding eye contact. You don’t say anything as you keep walking. “You’re one lucky freshman, Y/n. Are you and him close already?”
Lucky. You heard that word a million times today.
You shake your head, “I don’t know. I’m supposed to meet up with him now to talk about the project.”
“Oh,” she scoffs, “but I just saw him a few minutes ago! He’s still hanging out with his friends. They’re at –” Before she can finish her sentence, a voice calls out your name and you turn around, somewhat smiling in relief when you spot Taehyung, running up to you with a smile on his face.
Yeseul looks at Taehyung and then back to you, clenching her jaw. You wanted to laugh at her, but you prevent yourself from doing so.
Taehyung comes up to you with two Iced Americanos, “I figured that you love these.” You shyly look away from him while a smile creeps up your face, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet.
“You didn’t have to. I-I’ll pay you back!”
“No, please. It’s a gift from me.”
Your heart melts from his simple action, although you remember that Yeseul was still right beside you. She sneers at the both of you, “Wow, am I disturbing something?”
Taehyung turns his head in her direction, “Yes, you are.”
Ding, ding, ding! Knockdown!
Yeseul rolls her eyes and proceeds to walk away, but she was still looking at Taehyung, “Tae! Maybe you should buy me a coffee next time.” Taehyung chuckles as a reply, letting her walk away without replying. He looks back at you, “Sorry about that.”
Shaking your head immediately, you spoke, “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about. She’s crazy.”
“I know she hates you.”
“You do? How?” You lift an eyebrow at him, and he smiles pathetically at you.
“She always talks about people she hates during class when the professor’s not around. It’s sad, honestly.”
‘Wow, she’s really living like that?’ You think to yourself.
Shrugging your shoulders, you say, “Well, she likes you.”
Taehyung laughs quietly, “I’m not into girls like her, Y/n.”
“Oh,” you awkwardly chuckle, “okay.”
Then what are you into, Taehyung?
You almost wanted to slap yourself from that stupid thought.
“Let’s go?”
“Okay.”
Both of you proceed to walk towards the main gate, not knowing where he was planning to take you. Once you are out of the campus, he leads you to a shaded seating area where he and his friends would usually hang out.
He sits down and motions you to sit across from him. You obey, placing your tote bag beside you, a wooden table separating the two of you.
Nervousness came to visit you again.
Taehyung smiles, “So…” he takes a sip on his coffee, and you instinctively do the same. “How did you feel when they said that we were doing a project?”
You chuckle, looking away from him as you still couldn’t stare at his eyes for any longer than five seconds. “I…I was expecting it to be individual work. But when she said that we’d be pairing up with seniors, I was lowkey disappointed.”
He smirks at you, leaning his head on one hand. His strong gaze was directly on yours and you found it hard to speak when he was staring at you like that. You didn’t have much experience talking with boys, and everything was a new occurrence for you.
“What? Why?” He seems so intrigued, which pushes you to continue.
“Well, I’m not really into these group projects and pairs… and all that. It might seem kind of shit to you but it’s just what I prefer.”
“No, it’s alright,” he waves his hand in front of him, “You can say anything and I’ll listen. I know people who are like you as well. They would rather work by themselves so they can work freely, is that it?”
You grin at him, the feeling of being understood satisfies your heart. “Exactly. It’s not like I hate people, or I don’t value their opinion or ideas. But if there was an option of working individually instead of with another person then I’d go by myself.”
Before you can forget, you seize your collection of paintings from your tote bag so that he can take a look at your artwork and style, handing it to him with a little smile. He gladly accepts the thick, black portfolio and puts it inside his own bag.
The corner of his mouth lifts, leaning his body forward as he rests his forearms on the table. There was a certain glint in his eyes that you can’t seem to comprehend. “Let’s say there was an option to go solo on this project, would you leave me?”
Fuck. You don’t know how to answer that question.
You weren’t sure of your thoughts, too. If you said yes, you probably sound like you didn’t want to work with him. But on the other hand, Taehyung enthralled you. You want to see how things will turn out if you work with him. His works had a unique statement that only Kim Taehyung could create. You want to see how both your ideas combined will come to life.
“Well?” He teases, obviously knowing what he’s doing to you. He likes the way your face gets flushed in shyness.
“No,” you giggle.
“No?” A look of bewilderment covers his face. He was sure that you would’ve chosen to go solo. He smiles as he squints his eyes at you slightly, “And why’s that?”
“Because I want to work with you, and maybe…” you pause for a while to find the correct words to say, “and maybe get to know you a little more.”
His heart quickly warms up, feeling the satisfaction from your answer. He felt the same way with you – and he was excited to work with an artist who had the same interest as him, hopefully.
“So, do you have any ideas?” You asked. You didn’t brainstorm on anything yet and all that was in your mind was working with Kim Taehyung. He smiles and leans forward, combing his hair back. “I want to do something different, something that I’ve never tried before.”
You chuckle, “I thought you’ve tried everything already, Taehyung.”
His eyes turn into slits as he laughs, showing off his teeth, “Not everything, babe.”
Babe?
Your heart skips a beat as you gulp, feeling things that you aren’t supposed to feel.
“You see, there’s one type of painting that hasn’t been featured on the exhibition building yet. And you know what that is?” he asks, never losing eye contact.
“Uh…” you look up, trying to think as you imagine all the art displayed inside the exhibition. As you do so, Taehyung scans your face, taking a good look at you.
He wishes his plan goes well.
“I’m not so sure,” you smile lightly.
You crease your forehead when you notice that Taehyung was hesitating to say something, his eyes darting in different directions. The look on his face worried you. “Taehyung? What is it?” you lean forward in an attempt to make him feel at ease.
Your heart jumps when he finally locks his strong eyes with you once again.
“Nude.”
“WHAT?” you fume as you slam your hand down on the wooden table, abruptly standing up from your seat. Taehyung anticipated this reaction, so he was calm. “You want to do what?!”
“Y/n,” he starts, urging you to sit back on your seat, but you still stand your ground. Suddenly, you remember that one of you has to be a muse; oh my god—this is a portraiture project!
“Y/n, Y/n, hear me out,” he laughs quietly, watching all the blood rush through your face. “It will be fun!”
“I am so not getting undressed in front of you, Taehyung! I know you’re attractive, we both get it! Sure, you’re fucking hot! But I’m not! I won’t show my body to you! Especially not for this project! No!” You stomp your feet like a child, pacing left and right as Taehyung watches you with an endearing smile. He tilts his head to the side, placing his chin on the palm of his hand. He examines you, eyes running up and down your figure as your words of abrupt compliments repeated again and again in his mind. He didn’t even notice that he was biting his lips.
“Sit down.” He says firmly with a deep voice, making your stomach turn.
Maybe it’s the coffee.
Yeah.
It’s definitely the coffee.
You gulp as you did as you’re told. As if you can’t get any more bashful, you turn your head away from him.
“I’m sorry if it was too abrupt, Y/n.” he speaks with a monotone voice and you can feel the timbre in your fucking tummy. “But I just think a nude painting will be a good idea, it’ll be unique, Y/n. No one has ever created art like that before on our campus. It will be the first. There’s no way it wouldn’t be displayed in the exhibition.”
He sighs quietly when you don't buy his pursuit.
“Sorry, Y/n. I understand that you’re not up for it.”
Wow. Is he guilt-tripping?
You grab your bag whilst standing up again from your seat. You see the shock in his expression. “W-Where are you going?”
“Back to my dorm. I need to think.”
“Y/n, please, let’s try this again, okay? Just forget that I even suggested it—”
You clench your jaw, gazing at him one final time. “I said I’ll think about it, Kim Taehyung.” And at that, you turn your back to him and walk away to catch a bus ride home to your dorm, leaving Taehyung and your empty cup of coffee behind.
And… something else.
Taehyung hates the way he feels right now. As he slumps his body down on his bed, his body feels like it weighs a hundred times heavier. He admits that it was his fault; he shouldn’t have suggested that idea, especially to a person – to a girl that he wasn’t close with.
“I won’t show my body to you! No! Especially not for this project!”
Your words repeated inside his mind as if stabbing his idiotic brain. He picks up a pillow and groans loudly against it, closing his eyes in dismay.
“I know you’re attractive, we both get it! Sure, you’re fucking hot! But I’m not!”
Little did you know… little did you know that Kim Taehyung finds you attractive as well.
Cries of frustration leave his lips. The deadline of the project was next week and big activities like this should be planned out until tomorrow. God, what the hell is he supposed to do now?
Suddenly, his phone vibrates upon the pocket of his slacks. He picks it out and reads the I.D: Seokjin.
He rests his head against the pillow, answering his friend’s call. “Hello?”
“What happened? I saw Y/n fucking leaving you out there!” Seokjin laughs loudly, making Taehyung blush in embarrassment. “What the fuck happened with the two of you? It was like a freaking breakup scenario!”
“Hyung, stop laughing,” Taehyung sighs while rubbing his face with his other hand, “I messed up. I messed up so bad.”
Seokjin was still laughing at the other end of the call, cackling like a madman. Seokjin – knowing Taehyung – actually thought to himself that his plan would flourish. “Kim Taehyung, what the hell did you say?”
“Just… I just suggested an idea that she didn’t like.”
“Wow. That’s a first!” he snorts, “I can’t wait to tell the boys this one—”
“Seokjin, please. I don’t want to lose this.”
“You say that every time, Tae. And every time you fucking win.”
He thinks for a while, ignoring Seokjin’s voice for a short amount of time. His mind wanders off to somewhere else, going into a world of his thoughts.
“I don’t want to lose her.”
The line falls silent.
“Taehyung,” the older one says first, his voice now empathic, “what’s up?”
He doesn’t regret what he said, nor he doesn’t want to take it back. In his mind, Y/n was the prettiest girl he has ever laid eyes on. Sure, he did not notice her much before the announcement at the lecture hall, but at the exact moment they both laid their eyes with each other, he was starstruck by your beauty.
Taehyung’s idea of a nude portrait was initiated before the professor announced partners. He already had this vision even before he knew who his partner would be. If his partner were a man, there wouldn’t be a problem with that, he would still recommend the idea. But when Y/n’s name was called, he was deep down excited.
He, although, feels bad. You must have felt so flustered. He wishes he could turn back time and forget that he said that if your reaction was negative.
Taehyung understands your point of view though. He was a man that you don’t know, you two weren’t friends, you two weren’t close. He had only started talking to you today, and it was too abrupt for him to recommend something like this.
But despite the fact, he hopes that you won’t ditch him as his partner or go solo because he genuinely wants to work with you. Someone as mysterious and captivating as you shouldn’t be ignored and be overlooked.
“Taehyung, are you still there?” Seokjin’s voice snaps him out of the trail of thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay? I think you zoned out.”
“Yup, I’m…I’m fine,” he takes a deep breath. “I’ll call you later, hyung. I need to do something.”
“Alright then,” Seokjin says, “See you.”
“See you.”
Taehyung throws his phone somewhere on the bed and is quick to rush to his bag that was on the floor.
He takes out your portfolio.
With careful hands, he feels his chest sinking. Why did he feel so upset? Flipping to the first page, a feeble smile paints his face as the first image was a picture of you.
He traces the image with his index finger, his smile growing bigger as he further examines your face.
“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself.
Taehyung traces your full name written in cursive at the bottom of the image. Was it weird to depict how someone’s name can fit a person’s character so much?
At the very corner of the page was your social media account, specifically your Instagram. Without thinking any further, he crosses his legs together and places the portfolio flat down in front of him on the mattress. Grabbing his phone, he types in your username.
“Oh wow,” he chuckles in delight, being more enchanted by your beauty. The pictures in your profile consisted more of your artwork, but the best artwork he saw was you.
Taehyung spends the remaining time of his afternoon examining and admiring your works. Mostly abstract and full of vibrant colors, just like his. Each one of your creations screamed your name. Your style was something else; and he truly believes that the two of you will make a great partner, giving and receiving tips and advice from each other.
It doesn’t matter that you’re still a freshman art student. Your art, in Taehyung’s opinion, is masterpieces that deserve a place in the exhibition.
The next morning at school, you purposely avoid Taehyung and his group with your head low as you walk past them, continuing the journey to your classroom.
Jimin nudges Taehung’s shoulder when he spots you. Quickly, you scurry away from them.
“Umm…” Jungkook starts, looking at Taehyung with a confused expression. “You two still aren’t close?”
“Yeah,” Jimin buts in, “the deadline is in 6 days. Remember Taehyung, this is a big-scale project.”
“It’s seven in the fucking morning,” Taehyung grunts, “Can you guys not rub it in my face that I did a horrible job with Y/n yesterday?”
As the group of boys goes their separate ways, Seokjin sticks by Taehyung’s side. The two make their way across the green campus field. “You can say it, you know,” Seokjin speaks. Taehyung lifts a brow at him.
“Say that you like her.”
Taehyung’s mouth curves into a smile, eyes narrowing. “It feels unfair. She fucking hates me.”
“So, you like her?”
He groans, “I do like her.” A blush creeps up his face, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck timidly, “I like her a lot.”
“Well, you reap what you sow. You better fix this before Y/n changes her mind and goes solo.”
But what Taehyung doesn’t know is that you truly have no plans to go solo.
You, on the other hand, were a mess last night. You wondered if Taehyung hates you, or if you looked like a fool yelling at him. But what’s more stupid is how the fuck you’re getting your portfolio back without it being awkward.
You couldn’t even at least spare him a glance earlier as you walked past him. How are you going to actually talk to him face-to-face?
Going to the café that you usually visit every day to buy your coffee, you were about to pay for your drink until two familiar faces ran up to you.
“Make those three cups!” Hayoon shouts and you immediately press your index finger against your lips, shushing her.
You turn your attention back to the lady behind the counter, “Three iced coffees please.”
“Sooooo?” Seoyun walks up behind you to massage your shoulders, easing the tension from your stressed muscles. “How did it go? You didn’t send us a text.”
“What, with Taehyung?” you say while your two friends follow you to sit at the nearest unoccupied table. They eagerly nod, excited for what you will say.
“Did you guys bond well?”
“At first, yes,” you say under your breath, avoiding eye contact as you do, “but, uh, he just said something I didn’t like.”
Hayoon and Seoyun gasp. They both look at each other before exclaiming, “What?!”
Seoyun brings his fist down on the table, “Did that motherfucker harass you—”
“No!” you quickly retort, shaking your head as your eyes fly to the other customers in the shop to see if they heard your friend’s harsh speculations.
Who's gonna tell your friends that Kim Taehyung suggested a fucking nude painting.
“I can’t say exactly what it was. But I need to talk to him today because I forgot I gave him my goddamn portfolio.”
“Miss Y/n?” The bartender calls out your name, and Seoyun was kind enough to fetch it for you.
Hayoon was next to speak, “You guys aren’t getting along well?”
You shake your head ‘no’ as an answer.
“That isn’t good, Y/n. It’s either you both fix whatever happened or go solo. Would you rather go solo?”
“No.” You immediately say without any hesitation.
“Remember, Y/n. I feel like Taehyung is your golden ticket to the exhibition. Don’t waste the opportunity.”
Seoyun gives you and Hayoon your coffees before standing up.
After a little more banter, the three of you part ways, going to each of your respective destinations.
As the day went on, today felt like it was a thousand hours long. It was boring, and you thought that seeing Taehyung again would make things better.
No longer being mad at him for what happened yesterday, you had a goal to find him on this big campus. Students were either looking chill; calm and collected, or they’re speed-walking stressfully to their classes.
Though cliché as it may seem, art students are really competitive when an opportunity of their creation being displayed in the Fine Arts exhibition building comes to play. It makes them feel the gratification of a real artist.
You bet Taehyung has felt that a hundred times by now. His paintings being featured so many times in the exhibition really made him look superior and all-mighty, although his behavior did not reflect that at all.
He’s humble, unlike the other seniors.
Clutching your tote bag tighter to your side, you go to the senior’s building with the hope to find your partner.
As you step inside, instead of being greeted by a bunch of fourth years, right at the entrance was Yeseul getting too close with Taehyung.
She was putting her hands all over his chest, obviously making him feel uncomfortable by the look on Taehyung’s face. Why isn’t he pushing her away?
You grit your teeth together, storming your way towards them to rip Yeseul away from him; but she was quick to notice you.
“Oh, hello there, Y/n. Here to see your partner?” she snarks, wrapping her arms around Taehyung’s neck. She also dared to step closer to his body, almost inches away from touching.
Oh no, she did not just do that.
You drop your bag to the floor, and in an immediate motion, you swing your arm up to her shoulder and shove her away from Taehyung. Her frail body jolts backward, almost losing her balance.
“Stay the fuck away from him.”
Taehyung’s eyes expand as his heart pumps rapidly.
He did not expect that from you at all.
“Wow, that’s fucking new!” Yeseul exclaims, “Y/n finally speaks! She speaks, everyone!” She looks around as if people are watching.
No one was watching. There was no one else inside the entrance hall other than the three of you.
“You see,” you were about to retaliate until Taehyung grabs your arm. You look at him for a quick second, ignoring the way his expression tells you to stop. “You see, Yeseul, I don’t waste my time with a pathetic girl like you. Always craving everyone’s attention. Do you think you're the shit? What if I tell you that everything thinks you're just a sad spoiled bitch that got into this school because of daddy, wasting his money by—”
“Y/n!” Taehyung retaliates.
“Wasting his money by bullying other students instead of focusing on yourself? Just say you’re an attention whore and move on with your embarrassing life—”
“Y/n! Stop, let’s just go.” Taehyung says sharply as he immediately takes your bag from the floor with one hand as the other tightly clasps around your wrist. “Let’s go!” Taehyung yells before Yeseul can even process what you said to her.
But thank God a wave of courage dwelled up inside you to speak your mind and stand up for yourself from Yeseul’s bitchy nature.
Taehyung drags you out of the building, but your eyes never leave hers. “Fuck you.” You enunciate without sound after smiling like a little devil.
Nothing was more satisfying than seeing Yeseul finally speechless.
It seems like you took out almost all of your energy on Yeseul because you nor Taehyung did not speak until he led you into a secluded alleyway in between two large concrete buildings.
Unexpectedly, Taehyung uses both hands to hold onto your arms, leaning a bit down so that his eyes are at the same level as yours.
“Why did you do that, hm?” he asks, scanning your entire face as if trying to figure it out himself. “Y/n?”
Tilting your head to the side, you once again avoid looking directly at his eyes. You did not notice that you balled your fists beside you while the past image of Yeseul’s hands touching Taehyung comes to play. Your chest caves in and out, speechless.
Taehyung then places his right hand on top of your head, patting your hair gently. “Talk to me.”
Grunting, you finally look at him. “I hate her.”
“Y/n—”
“I fucking hate her! I hate how she touched you! I hate that she has the fucking audacity to be all up on you! And I hate how you didn’t do anything to stop her!” Quickly, you press your hands against his broad chest and attempt to jolt him backward, but he is strong to stay still.
“Shh, shh, Y/n,” Taehyung firmly holds your hand, catching your eyes fueled with bitterness. In an attempt to hide a smile, he purses his lips. “I’m… I’m sorry, yeah? I fucked up a ton. But you know what, Y/n?”
“What?” you say with a sour tone.
“I’m glad you finally stood up for yourself.”
It was true. You felt a sense of relief once you’ve finally spoken your mind. Even though you said some horrible things to Yeseul, she deserved it.
You take a deep sigh, resting your head on the concrete wall behind you. “You weren’t even pushing her away, Taehyung. What was she even doing with you?”
He bites the corner of his bottom lip when you aren't looking. He did not want to assume, but you sounded jealous.
“Nothing, babe. She just suddenly came up to me.”
You gawk up at him while a blush forms your cheeks.
There it was again. Babe.
Your eyes fly to his lips, then down to his chest, and finally to his pelvic area. Not even noticing that you’re staring way too hard, Taehyung coughs to get attention back.
“Eyes up here, Y/n,” he speaks with a provoking tone.
Slowly, Taehyung tauntingly smirks and you instantly feel butterflies in your lower stomach.
“Uh, um…” you fake a laugh, “I just, I just need my portfolio back.”
There was a seven-second silence with the two of you just staring at each other. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to talk.
“I left it at my dorm—”
“—You’re impossible, Kim Taehyung!” You gasp, about to walk away again but he was quick to stop you this time.
“Come to my place, Y/n. Please? Let’s talk about the project there.” He pleads, his mouth almost creating a pout, “I’m serious. I really want to do this with you, Y/n. I don’t want you to walk away again.”
All of those words from him, and you felt the same way. His hand crawls up your arm, causing little bumps to appear on your soft skin. Caressing your arm tenderly, Taehyung looks a bit sullen.
“I’m really sorry about yesterday, for throwing you off like that.”
“It’s okay,” you say genuinely. You have never seen Taehyung so upset like this. It was a strange sight to see, but you were happy that he’s willing to try all of this again. The feeling is mutual. “I’ll… I’ll go to your dorm.”
That huge grin reappears on his face and it was enough for you to feel relieved and once again, charmed that he is your partner.
Following Taehyung's lead to his room, the halls were gloomy and silent, almost as if his dormitory was haunted. “I know what you’re thinking,” Taehyung smirks, looking back at you. “Too quiet?”
“Yeah.” You giggle.
“Wait until it’s midnight and you hear people fucking. Walls here are too thin.”
You do not know how to respond to that as you attempt to stop yourself from blushing too hard.
Taehyung’s room was apparently at the very end of the hallway and there was still a long way to go. As you trail behind him, you can’t help but stare at his broad shoulders. He was wearing a simple gray tee, and the thin material of the shirt provides enough to see the structure of his upper body.
He had to be working out. He was tall as well. Whenever you talk to each other, you always have to tilt your head upwards for his entire face to be visible to your vision.
Taehyung, as if he knows that you’re looking at him, combs a hand through his hair while throwing his head back. He does this a lot as you notice.
“We’re here!” He exclaims, rummaging through his bag to get his keys. While you wait patiently behind his figure, the door parallel from his room opens.
It was Jimin.
“Oh, hey Y/n!” He greets with big eyes, surely not expecting your presence.
Taehyung whips his head around. “Jimin, hi.” He sends him a certain look which you cannot decipher its meaning.
“What’s… what’re you guys doing?” He looks down at you and a smirk slowly emerges from his face. You instantly look away.
“We’re meeting up for the project,” Taehyung says for you as he fumbles with the key to his door. “Obviously.” He quickly adds.
Jimin hums and leans his body against his door, eyeing you from top to bottom. Even though you were not looking directly at him, he can sense your awkwardness.
“That’s all?”
“Oh my God, shut up,” Taehyung chuckles, finally pushing the door open. He sees that you were, once again, hiding your face by looking down on the polished floor.
Unexpectedly, he lays a firm hand on your lower back and pushes you in his with a slight force. Somehow, that simple action caused butterflies; a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. Your eyes widen as he guides you inside his dorm room.
Taehyung sends a quick look at Jimin who was smirking at him the whole time. “Literally shut your mouth.”
“I’m older than you.”
“At what?” Taehyung snorts, “three months?”
“Okay, so? I was born three months before you. So respect me.”
He no longer replies and shuts the door behind him. You stiffly stand in the midst of his room, scanning the area around you. His room was nothing but plain. But what shocks you the most are the scattered watercolor paintings scattered all over his wooden floor.
Nude paintings.
As if Taehyung was just playing with paint a few hours ago, these drawings were dispersed around the area as if he wanted to show it off.
You stay silent, bashful.
“Oh,” he finally speaks as soon as he realizes the situation. Quickly, he moves in front of you, kneels, and starts collecting the mess of papers on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, I forgot to clean these all up—”
“They’re so beautiful,” you insinuate, voice small.
Taehyung feels a warm feeling inside of him, cursing at himself for even blushing at your compliment. Usually, he would feel proud and confident when people admire his creations, but with you — he turns shy. He continues cleaning the floor, picking up the watercolor papers. “Thank you. I… uh, yeah.”
“No really, Taehyung,” you shake your head, “Can I see? Please?”
Turning to you, he gives you a sympathetic smile, diverting his attention away from your twinkling eyes. “They’re not supposed to be seen, Y/n.”
You sit down on his bed as determination takes over you. “Oh please? I’ve never seen anything like yours. Please, Taehyung?” you fake a pout, hoping that he’d give in. He stares at you with his mouth slightly parted, “Please? You’re still my partner after all.”
He sighs deeply, holding the stack of papers in both hands. He kneels in front of you, sitting on the heels of his feet, and eventually gives it to you.
Not taking his eyes off of you, he studies your expression.
With the look on your face, your sparkling eyes, your eyebrows adjoining together, watching the corner of your mouth lifting into a smile, Taehyung watches you in absolute awe.
“These…” you whisper to him as you can’t seem to take your eyes off of his collection. “These are so good, Taehyung.”
The paintings were colorful; they seemed messy but you can clearly see the artistic view on them. Though you can clearly see an abundance of women’s butts and boobs and nipples — that was all beside the question.
“Is this why you asked me to do a nude portrait?”
Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He was expecting this question, although he still feels jittery.
“Y/n,” he suddenly comes closer to you, “I’ve been having an interest in creating these types of paintings recently. I mean, a-as you can see here, I’ve been practicing.” Taehyung explains while releasing a quiet giggle. “I just thought it’ll be a good idea to, uh,” he gulps, “to make one… with you.”
Taehyung tilts his head up at you, but before you could reply, he lays his hands on your knees. A shiver runs down your spine at this, wetting your lips.
He looks so damn attractive up close.
“Y/n, I want you to be my muse.”
Taehyung’s eyes burn in desire, confidence building up in his system as he leans himself closer to you. He mutters the next words underneath his breath, “You’re beautiful, Y/n. So beautiful that I want to display your beauty to the whole fucking campus.”
Your body weakens. As the air between the two of you thickens, the whole world closing around you, you feel Taehyung run his hands up your thigh excruciatingly slow. With his eyes still locked on yours, time just stops and you allow yourself to get lost in his dark eyes.
“You don’t have to hide, Y/n. You’re such a stunning lady, it’ll be an honor for anyone to have you as their muse. I am the lucky one, Y/n.”
He speaks to you with such gentleness in his monotone, deep voice. Unintentionally, you bite down on your lower lip. Taehyung exhales a shuddered breath as he watches you. His eyes study your face, the distance between your eyebrows, eyes, he examines all the little things, even your impurities.
For him, you were flawless.
“You really do know what to say, huh?” you smile meekly, admiring him and his splendid soul. You feel so loved by him – appreciated, even.
“I’ve never been more sure of my words.”
Taehyung gives you a final smile before standing up. You watch him walk over to his study desk where your portfolio lays. Letting out the breath that you were apparently holding in, you wipe your damp hands on your clothes.
Giving the portfolio back to your possession, he speaks at the same time: “It’s still a suggestion after all. You can tell me yours if you have one.”
You chuckle at that. Little did he know that your mind was too busy overthinking how things stacked up instead of brainstorming an idea. Since you feel more comfortable with him than before, you tell the truth.
“I have absolutely no idea,” you snicker.
“Yeah?” he smirks, nodding his head once. “I hate to say this, but this is the only concept I’ve got as well.” Taehyung sits down crossed-legged beside you on the bed, tapping his fingers on his pile of nude portraits.
“Then I’ve got no choice but to say yes.”
Taehyung feels his heart thump rapidly in his chest.
It wasn’t like he was dying to see your body – no. His point was not to be a pervert.
His point goes deeper than that. Taehyung thinks that this idea suits you and your aura perfectly. You were both dainty and mysterious at the same time, something about you is just so alluring and captivating. The way you look at him with those eyes of yours, you were like a magnet to him.
Tempting, like he’d imagine the outcome of this painting.
Taehyung’s left hand reaches out, hesitates and stops for a second, although it continues until his fingers lightly brush against your cheek. You smile, feeling soft from his gentle touch. He lightly tucks a strand of hair to the back of your ear.
Those pesky butterflies just never go away, do they?
“Besides, Taehyung, this is still a collaboration,” you abruptly stand up, facing him. A sudden burst of confidence shoots through your body as you hold his jaw in one hand. You giggle in amusement as you notice his eyes expand in shock.
Leaning down to give him a provocative stare, you smirk, “You’re not the only one who has the say.”
Watching him prod his tongue against his cheek causes your stomach to do backflips for the hundredth time today. He tempts you with his strong glare, gazing up at you with hooded eyes.
He swiftly grasps your wrist, making you let go of his jaw. Raising his eyebrows, he replies with a bold tone, “I’m still superior to you, my little freshman.”
You and Taehyung exchange numbers before you leave. You stand in between the doorframe, saying your goodbyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at your place?” He reminds, his tall and slender figure towering in front of you.
“Yup,” you say, grasping your portfolio in your arms. “I’ll be sure to text you my address.”
Before you even have the opportunity to shut the door behind you, finally leaving his room, he refrains you from doing so.
“Y/n?”
Your heart rate quickens.
Turning around, you whisper, “Yeah?”
He shows off his handsome smile, that same smile he would put on whenever he receives an award onstage for his incredible work.
“Your art is magnificent.”
“He said what?!” Hayoon shrieks as you both walk to the main building. Seoyun wasn’t with the two of you because she was at her own partner’s house, working on the project.
“He liked my art,” you say quietly, blushing as you reminisce about what happened yesterday. You remember his words, his alluring voice, the gentle yet strong gaze he was giving you, it all felt unreal. “He said it’s quote-unquote magnificent.”
Hayoon gasps, putting a hand over her agape mouth. You laugh while staring at the pavement, clutching your portfolio tight.
“What else happened? Did you guys—”
“—Y/n! Good to see you.” Your body jumps when a voice suddenly startles you. Looking up, you see the head professor of the arts district in front of you. She seems amused at your frightened reaction.
“H-Hello, madam,” you politely smile, clearing your throat.
The professor also greets Hayoon.
“I’ve actually been wanting to have a little chat with you, Y/n.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “How are you and Kim Taehyung? Doing well together?”
“No, not yet,” you shake your head, “We’re going to meet up later though, finally start on the project.”
The professor seems so engrossed in Taehyung. It became clearer to you that Taehyung was a bigger deal in this department than you thought.
Her mouth lifts into a sly smirk, her warm eyes looking straight into yours, “I am looking forward to your collaboration with him, Y/n. You know,” she leans her body on one hip, “I trust my judgment with partnering the two of you together. Based on both of your work, I feel as though you and your senior will create an incredible piece of work. Don’t tell this to anyone…” she suddenly leans in to whisper.
Your eyes turn to Hayoon, giving her a confused gaze.
“I’m mostly looking forward to you and Kim Taehyung’s work.”
And without saying anything further, she says a simple goodbye and walks away.
She’s anticipating your artwork the most! How awkward can it be if she finds out that your planning to work on a nude fucking painting?
“I- madam?” You immediately call out to her, spinning around. “You said that we are all free to paint whatever we want, right? As long as it’s a portrait?”
“Exactly, miss Y/n. No further limitations than that.”
As you say, madam.
The knock on your door startles the living soul out of you. You release a mantra of “fuck’s” in your mind, shaving the last bit of your leg hairs as quickly as you can.
“Coming!” you shout from your small bathroom, hoping that Taehyung would hear. You angle your right leg better, tip-toeing on the toilet seat.
After a quick minute, you clean yourself up and get dressed. You did not know how to act since it was the first time a boy came over to your dorm. Puffing out a breath, you psych yourself up.
Twisting the doorknob open, you greet him. “Hey—!”
Good fucking luck to me.
Taehyung looks so good. He shakes away the hair that slightly covers the top of his eyes so that he can get a better look at you. He was wearing a simple white tee and sweatpants, yet you can absolutely see his prominent body through the thin material. Taehyung carries a large white canvas stuck between his arm and waist, a bag over his shoulder.
He scans your body, eyes raking you up and down.
The tension between the two of you instantly thickens.
“Hello, my little freshman.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’ll call you whatever I want.” He speaks with an authoritarian tone, suddenly sounding serious and sharp as ever. You let him inside your room where you already set up a tarp on the ground. He sees that you have already arranged the living room, clearing the living room from all the unnecessary furniture.
“So, let’s start?” he voices out without looking at you. He finds your easel and places the canvas on it.
We’re suddenly rushing everything?
He sees that you weren’t talking, once again, so he looks at you expectantly with a quirked eyebrow. The expression on his face made you feel small and intimidated.
“I don’t know where to start,” you barely say through a whisper, fiddling with your clothes.
His eyes narrow, tipping his head to the side a little bit, “Right.”
You feel severely embarrassed.
A good-looking guy in front of you, eating you up with his eyes like you’re a meal. You shuffle your foot against the ground, unable to form any words.
Suddenly, he strides forward to you. You try to hide the way your body just instantly stiffens, but it is impossible. Your body reacts without your permission, goosebumps appearing when Taehyung places his hand on top of your head.
He gives your head a couple of pats, stroking your hair right after. Taehyung leans down until his face is almost parallel to yours. His mouth grows into a little smirk. “My bad,” he mutters with a husky tone, “I forgot who I was working with.”
Your mouth goes dry. What was that supposed to mean?
Taehyung sits down on the floor, legs crossed. You copy him.
“First of all,” he leads the conversation, which you thank the heavens for, “I feel responsible for your comfortability, Y/n.”
Oh God, it’s starting.
“You have to trust me, okay? I want to keep the professionalism between us when we,” he gulps, “when we start this. And by that I mean when you take your clothes off.”
“Taehyung…”
He ignores you, “I want this to be somewhat similar to the watercolor paintings you saw yesterday.”
You muster up the courage to speak, hoping that your voice won’t fail you. “You mean, something contemporary?”
He smiles, a proud look on his face. “Exactly. The painting won’t show your vagina, of course,” he nonchalantly says while standing up. How can he speak as if this is a completely normal conversation? “But, if you like, we can show a bit of your breasts.”
“Sure,” you barely formed the word.
“Great,” he fiddles with his equipment, setting up the scenario. “Take your time, Y/n. We have all the time in the world right now.”
Taehyung watches you at a distance from his peripheral vision. He sees you taking off your shirt.
He shakes his head, forcing himself to stay focused. “Do you,” he clears his throat, “do you have anything in mind, color-palette wise?”
“Neutral colors.”
After that, you take off your shorts. The only clothing left was your undergarments.
Lace.
You feel like you were giving him a striptease. The air kisses your skin as you become more exposed to him.
You find it unfair; you’re going to get naked and he isn’t.
“Feeling okay?” He asks, and you just respond with a quick nod of your head.
“Um, do I take these off too?” you ask, referring to your bra and panties. Even though you already know the answer, you just want to make sure.
Your heart jumps when you catch a glimpse of him biting his lower lip. Taehyung feels the need to get used to looking at your body because he’s going to do that for the next few hours or so. But he can’t stop staring at you.
You exhibit breathtaking beauty.
“Yes,” he answers while he applies a layer of white paint on the canvas. You watch him work his hands up and down, observing all his movements.
A different aura replaces him all of a sudden. He was doing the bare minimum but he looked so sublime.
But you stand there, not moving a muscle. You heard him loud and clear, although you can't seem to undress.
Taehyung chuckles, still painting the canvas, “You want me to help you?”
“What?” you blurt in shock from his sudden nerve.
With that, he lays his eyes on you, unwavering. “You want me to undress you?”
In a quick motion, Taehyung drops his brush and walks to you. You can immediately hear your heart pounding in your ears as he closes the distance between the two of you. “Taehyung…” you murmur, almost whimpering.
The noise you made undoubtedly excites him even more.
“Yea?” he says softly, “does my muse need help to get undressed?”
Your body melts then and there.
Unknowingly, you nod.
Taehyung watches your pupils dilate as you look up at him. You were driving him wild with just the way you were staring at him.
“Is it okay to put my hands on you?”
You blush at that, finding it cute that he asked for permission. “Of course.”
Taehyung doesn't hesitate to put his big hands on your hips, feeling the material of your lace panties. He hisses, clicking his tongue. “Damn, babe,” he bites his lip again, “I know you’re shy, and I like it that you’re shy...” the pads of his fingertips tap against your skin, teasing you, “But for us to continue with this project, you have to let me see your body. You have to be comfortable with me, m’kay?”
“But,” you hesitate for a moment, looking anywhere aside his eyes. “You’ll be the first one.”
Taehyung creases his forehead in confusion, stepping closer until your body touches. “Y/n, you mean that,” he stops the urge to let out even the faintest of groans, “You’ve never done t-this with anyone before?”
He looks at you with such care, not even a single spot of judgment written on his face. You don't even notice that his hands are crawling up and down your waist, caressing your body so softly until you feel those familiar cold shivers.
You pry your eyes away, muttering a shy “yes”.
The shine in Taehyung’s eyes diminishes, replacing it with a darker, more lustful shade. He holds your chin up with brute force, sick of you looking away from him.
He didn’t expect to feel this way. So prevalent and in control of your own body, he feels a surge of power rush through him as he notices your face flush. “I hope you know you can’t back out now, baby.”
“Take off your bra,” he states simply with unwavering eye contact. He was looking down at you passing the bridge of his nose, mouth slightly agape.
He could’ve sworn he heard another whimper.
Fuck, did that sound drives him crazier.
With his hands still on your waist, you lift your arms and reach behind you, your clammy hands unclasping your bra.
Taehyung wasn’t apprehensive to stare at you anymore. He’s way past that. Not when you’re looking at him so innocently like that, your pretty eyes trying their best to gaze at him – he doesn’t care anymore. All he wants to do was fucking get this painting done and possibly fuck you.
You slip the straps off of your body, dropping the garment on the floor.
He unconsciously bites his lip, your breasts on display for him, like art in a museum. He chuckles when you let out a whine.
“Why are they hard?” he teases, referring to your erect nipples.
You did not know if his question was rhetorical or not. He steps away a little so that you can slip off your panties as well – and to have a better look at you.
Is it normal for people to feel this way?
Your body shudders from his cold stare, waiting for a signal to remove your underwear. Taehyung steps behind the canvas, eyes still on you. “Go on, I'm waiting baby.”
That pet-name will be the death of you.
You hook your thumbs inside your garter and swiftly pull your panties down your legs. Lowering your head, you step out from the pool you made on the floor and toss it to the side.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear.
“Like what?”
“You’re basically eye-fucking me.”
“Don’t you want that?” he grins cockily. His unexpected surge of confidence and the new atmosphere he has created in the room were making you breathless.
You don’t reply, instead, you ask him what position he wants you to be in.
“Probably on your hands and knees, but that’ll be too inappropriate.”
“Taehyung—”
“I’m kidding.”
You swallow the lump in your throat as he directs you in a position on the floor. You sit back on your heels, arms resting above a wooden desk prop he wanted to include in the portrait.
“Look at me.”
The view you give him; your body’s side profile and your big, pure eyes, was enough for his cock to grow hard beneath his sweatpants. He curses, enticed by how beautiful and hot you are.
Taehyung grabs his paint palette, giving you one final examination before swiftly painting the background on the blank canvas.
“I can see that you’re holding your breath,” Taehyung says after a minute, “Relax, babe. You’re with me. You don’t have to worry.”
It’s fucking happening.
He was actually going to painting you naked. NAKED. Tits and butt out for the whole campus to see.
You were hoping that once this painting is finished, no one will judge you nor Taehyung. You pray that they’re open-minded enough to accept a fucking nude portrait.
Suddenly, an itch crawls upon your shoulders, and the urge to scratch it grows closer and closer. You scrunch your nose, waiting for the perfect time to do it.
When Taehyung was more focused on the canvas, you remove your arm from its original position so that you can scratch your shoulder.
He didn’t notice — yes!
“It’s only been five minutes and you’re already itching?” he snorts, “want me to scratch your itches for you so you don’t have to move?”
You roll your eyes, “That’s so weird.”
“Whatever, Y/n. We can take five-minute breaks every twenty. What do you think? You won't be sitting there the whole time, I just need to do the background, a rough outline, and a sketch of you and we can take turns painting the rest after that.”
You exhale a satisfied breath. “Oh thank God.”
“Just don’t move so much.”
What Taehyung wanted to capture was the innocence of your gaze despite the raw nudity of the painting. He was eager to deliver that there is always purity, gentleness, and chastity in a world painted in red.
And you were being the most perfect muse he could ever have.
Just like the painting: ‘The Girl with a Pearl Earring,’ Johannes Vermeer illustrated a mellow, warm aura surrounding the girl with such beguiling eyes, capturing everyone’s attention.
Taehyung yearns to have that same effect with you as his model.
“Y/n,” Taehyung accidentally says too adamantly, your shoulders flinching as an effect. “Keep your eyes on me. Got it?”
“Why?” You ask, “Isn’t my nudity the focal point here?” you pronounce sarcastically, but your partner did not grasp that.
“Not really,” he shakes his head, “you’ll see, baby.”
You click your tongue, “Don’t call me that unless you’re planning to do something else to me, Kim Taehyung.”
“Mmm,” he hums, running his tongue against his lower lip. He stops painting for a second, resting one hand on his hip. “That’s a bold statement right there.”
“You’re not denying it?” your eyes enlarge, that small, weak feeling beginning to reappear once more.
Without a response, he proceeds to his artwork with a smug grin. As he draws your body’s outline, applying shades here and there, depicting how the sun shines against your soft, supple skin, he tries his hardest to be focused.
Every time he would glance your way, your eyes would immediately lock onto his. He doesn’t know if you do it on purpose, but those innocent eyes, he’s struggling because of them.
You look at him so sweetly with such a pure look, despite the position you’re in.
“What do you want, Taehyung?”
He tilts his head, questioning, “Hm?”
“What’s with that face? Do you… d-do you want me to do something else? Is there anything I should do to—”
“All I want is your lips against mine right now, Y/n.”
How are you supposed to respond to that? Your throat goes dry, eyes instantly looking away from his gaze that suddenly turned dark.
Suddenly, you hear the paintbrush drop down to the floor, footsteps coming closer to you. You hitch your breath when Taehyung crouches down in front of your body, placing two large hands on your skin.
“Look at me, baby. Look at me the way you do with those pretty eyes.”
Taehyung fakes a patronizing pout, holding your chin with two fingers. “There we go, you look so fucking beautiful like this. I couldn’t help myself back there, Y/n.”
“What happened to professionalism, Taehyung?” You muster up the courage to say, although with a small tone, you still made your point across.
“Fuck that.”
Without wasting a single second, Taehyung holds your head in his hands and presses his lips against yours. Feeling each other’s warmth and presence, you don’t stop him. You sit straight as Taehyung’s right hand slides up and down your back.
“Kiss me, baby,” he mutters, “kiss me.”
There was nothing to lose, the painting was long forgotten as you press your forehead against his, deepening the kiss. Taehyung smirks from your neediness, your hands trying to find a place to stay.
He runs a hand through your hair, massaging your scalp softly. You feel butterflies in your stomach when he groans, that deep yet hoarse sound arouses you even more. The hand that was in your scalp tightens, grabbing a bundle of your hair as he roughly pulls it back.
You let out a moan, not intending to.
Taehyung uses this opportunity to kiss you harder, sliding his tongue in. You whimper against the kiss, eyebrows furrowing, feeling him explore every single inch of you.
Taehyung presses his body against yours, making you lay down on the floor with him on top of you. With his legs on either side of your body, he holds you in a trap.
He feels his primal urge seething through his veins, gazing down at you with a heavy breath. He scans his eyes down your naked body, his tongue aching to lick every part of you, to claim you.
You blush from his rugged stare, tilting your head to the side. You absolutely did not want him to see how flushed you’ve become.
He releases a grunt as he places his hands on your hips, slowly going north. He feels the goosebumps caused by his touch, making him smile. “Is it too straightforward to say that your innocence turns me on?”
You bite your lip, not wanting to speak. Your body already spoke measures and he can see your lust.
“If you keep staring at me like that,” he leans his head lower until you can feel his breath fanning against your collarbones. He merely closes his eyes, “I might fucking ruin you.”
“Then do it.”
Taehyung hears you loud and clear, and he chuckles. Without expecting it at all, he reaches up to wrap his hand around your throat, squeezing gently. Your eyes expand, appalled as you emit a little mewl.
“Tsk, tsk,” he licks his lips, feeling his underwear tighten beneath his sweatpants, “What is it with these innocent girls, huh? Always acting so naughty even though people barely lay a finger on them.” He watches your breathing getting heavier, your nipples getting harder as the air caresses your sweet skin. “Do you want me to touch you down there?”
You bite your lip, nodding your head.
Taehyung coos, “Good girl. But tell me with your words. Let me ask you again, Y/n. Do I have your full consent?”
“Yes.”
“Baby, you don’t know how badly I want this. I’m going to use you, I’m going to control your body as if it’s a toy. Do you want that? I won’t be done here if I don’t see you crying and begging me to stop.”
“Taehyung,” you whisper, wiggling your hips in need, “yes, I want it. I want you.”
Not even three seconds after you’ve said yes, Taehyung took the advantage to immediately press his lips against your neck, sucking and biting like an animal. You throw your head back in awe, feeling his warm hands gripping your breasts.
He groans, giving your neck purple and red marks. “Already a whimpering mess,” he licks the skin below your left ear after noticing that it was a sweet spot of yours. You lift your hands up to wrap around him, but he was quick to put them together in one hand and pin your wrists above your head.
“If you wanna touch me, you gotta beg,” he raises his brow, “do you wanna be a pathetic little girl and beg?”
Teasing you, he runs his fingers down the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His eye contact does not waver until his hand is inches above your needy, wet cunt.
“I love every single part of you, Y/n. The whole campus would be so jealous of me,” he winks at you with a menacing look, trying to lighten the situation up.
“May I kiss you down here?” He barely says in between a low moan as his hand starts playing with your slick folds. “Please let me,” his eyebrows creases, “let me fucking taste this pussy.”
Your stomach jumps at his cruel words, biting your lip to stop yourself from letting out an embarrassing moan. With a single nod, he dives in.
And doesn’t go easy on you at all.
“Oohh shi—” you squeal, hand flying to grab his hair right when his tongue dances against your sensitive clit. He looks up at you, analyzing your reactions. His wet tongue flicks against your bud, hands firmly holding your hips apart.
Taehyung ruthlessly licks you like he hasn’t eaten a meal in ages. Truth be told, in his head, he forgot he was dealing with a cute little virgin pussy. He was too focused on his pleasure, too focused on the noises you made.
“Please, oh my God, s-slow down!” you yelp, trying to squeeze your legs shut, but he pries them open.
He picks his head up for a moment to say, “Do that one more time, or else I’m not gonna let you sit down for days.”
It took you a second to figure out what he means by that. And when you do – you feel yourself getting deeper into a subspace, something you have never experienced before. You feel ten times lighter, all with the help of Taehyung’s strong stare as if he’s turning into a different person.
A slow smirk dwells on his face. He holds your cheek in one hand, stroking you gently.
“I love the look in your eyes, baby,” he murmurs, “so mesmerizing.” He distracts you with his words, making you lost in his dark irises.
It was until he unexpectedly plunges a finger inside your soaking cunt, earning a loud gasp. Your back arched painfully, throwing your head back and Taehyung stopped himself from giggling too loud.
“There, there,” he shushes, putting his lips against your neck, “You can take it, baby. Hm? It’s just one finger.”
You hold onto his wrist, pleading at him with round eyes, “Please,” you mewl, “I h-haven’t – mmphh – done anything like this before!”
“I know, baby, and it’s so fucking fun to torture you like this. Corrupt your innocence like this…” he slowly pumps his digit in and out, your wetness coating his slender finger. “I can’t even explain how good it feels for me.”
Taehyung might sound arrogant, condescending even. Although he knows that this turns you on as well, he can see the way you were submitting to him.
He feels your walls clench around him, making him hiss. “So tight, goodness. Gonna stretch that tight fucking cunt so good, so good around my thick cock. Uh-huh, you want that?”
When he thinks you’re ready, he inserts another finger in. This time, he pumps his fingers in and out at a fast, steady pace. He hits your sweet spots so well, making you feel euphoric. Your eyes roll back, and Taehyung’s dick twitches.
“That’s right,” he sighs, “stretch this little virgin pussy out for me, mhmm?”
Taehyung does slight scissoring movements with his fingers then switching to repeated ‘come-hither’ motions. Your moans effortlessly flow out of your mouth, not ever thinking to yourself that you can create those types of sounds.
“How does that feel baby, hm?” he licks his lip with his tongue, skilled fingers pumping in and out, stroking your g-spot. His ears perk up at the sound of you whimpering after he hits just the right place inside of you. “Oh yeah,” Taehyung chuckles, “that’s my spot. That’s the spot right there.”
Your legs quiver, feeling a tightness in your lower stomach but you don’t say anything to him. Were you about to cum? Is this how you’re supposed to feel?
But Taehyung knows. Taehyung can sense everything from you. He keeps his pace steady and is consistent to rub your good spot until your body experiences a gushing wave of bliss.
Your sweet, hot moans fill his ears and it was enough to drive him crazy, his fingers soaked in your cum.
“Good job, baby,” he snickers, caressing your stomach, “You came so good, so pretty for me.”
You feel so shy right after, though. Immediately, you raise your arms up to your face to cover your blushing cheeks, squealing.
“Aww, baby, baby,” he chuckles warmly, “Why are you shy? You just came around my fucking fingers, Y/n. Don’t be embarrassed about that.” Taehyung uses a taunting voice, carefully moving your arms away.
“You know what will help you get rid of that shyness of yours, huh?” he asks while standing up. Your eyes go wide as you watch his long, slender fingers playing with the waistbands of his sweatpants.
You shake your head ‘no’ as an answer.
“Kneel and take my cock out.”
“But…” you gulp, “I’ve never—”
Taehyung leans down and tugs you by the hair, forcing you to sit up. He growls and drags you to a kneeling position. You wince and yelp from how hard he was grabbing your hair.
“Did I say you can retaliate, huh? Slut?” Without any warning, he slaps your left cheek. The slap resonated throughout the quiet room, your cheek heating up from the blow. You wince in pain, about to rub your cheek to soothe the skin, but he was quicker to land another harsh slap.
“You’re crying? Aw, so fucking pathetic. Maybe if you’ll do as I fucking say, I wouldn’t have to ruin your pretty face.”
Taehyung feels like a different person. He stands tall before you, dripping in pure dominance. He watches your lips forming a pout, your hands finding their place on your thighs. Even with a bruised cheek and watery eyes, you still looked beautiful, and he loved the thought that you’re only like this for him.
“What are you waiting for?” he raises a brow, “fucking suck my dick.”
Taehyung barely hears the whine that falls off your lips right before you hook your fingers under his waistband. Your face was inches away from the large tent in his sweats. You wonder deep inside your mind how big he was.
Guess you were going to find out.
He palms himself above his tight boxers, making his dick twitch from the needed sensation. “You see this cock? You’re gonna put this inside that mouth of yours, right baby?” he leans down, grabs your face in both hands, and says with a gravelly voice, “Suck it good or else I’m gonna use your mouth as my own personal fleshlight, okay? Now get to it.”
Right after you try to throw your nervousness aside, his cock springs out from his boxers and the leaking red tip hits your face.
Taehyung couldn’t hold back his groan from the hot sight – his dick, long and hard, right against your pure face. He tries his hardest not to grab his shaft and stroke himself already, feeling impatient, but it’ll all be worth it to see you gagging on his cock.
With nimble fingers, you take his cock in your hands and stroke him gently, all while examining his face to see if you’re doing a good job.
“Your hands are so small compared to my dick,” he chuckles arrogantly, stroking your hair away from your face, “Wrap your lips around it. God, do I have to tell you everything?”
You whine from his degradation but obliged anyway. Taehyung lets out a long, deep grunt when you finally get his erection inside your mouth. At the back of your mind, you worry if you’re doing a good job. But looking at the way he was biting his lower lip, the way he was slightly bucking his hips forward, you thought to yourself that perhaps you’re making him feel good.
You did not expect Taehyung to act like this at all, so incredibly overpowering, and someone who loves to see you tremble with only his filthy words.
You try to suck on his cock, attempting to go deeper and take him further inside your mouth, but your gags are stopping you. Saliva drips down the corner of your mouth, eyes closing shut when his tip hits the back of your throat.
Taehyung groans, eyes rolling back as the sensation of your throat closing around him so tightly makes him rock-solid. With a devilish smile, he pulls his cock out and grabs the shaft, “Fucking slut,” he slaps his wet cock against your cheeks, creating thudding sounds, and rubs the red tip all over your poor mouth. “Is my dick really that big?”
“Taehyung please,” you whine, feeling the uncomfortable wetness down between your legs.
“Please what?” he jerks his cock in front of you. “Wanna back out? You don’t want it anymore? That’s okay, you can just fuck yourself and make yourself cum. That’s what you want?”
“N-No! No—” you quickly grab his thighs, “please, please help me.”
“Help you?” Taehyung laughs before gripping your hair tightly, forcing you to tilt your head back in a painful manner. “Why? Is this not what you have in mind? Huh?”
Suddenly, he slaps your face again. “You thought you’re gonna get good, soft sex for your first time? That I’ll go gentle on you?”
He presses his tip against your mouth, forcing your lips to open. He then pushes his length deep, deep inside you, going past your gag reflex. You grab onto his thighs tighter, your nails digging hard onto his skin as you try your hardest not to gag so much.
Taehyung holds the back of your head, a smirk creeping up his face all while he fucks your mouth. “Awh, fuck yes,” he moans, eyebrows furrowing together, “You really think just because I was sweet to you these past few days, I’m going to be the same person when I fuck you? Huh?”
He thrusts his cock deeper, violating your already sore throat. Your eyes start to feel heavy as they close by themselves, causing more tears to drip down your face. “Oh, baby,” Taehyung finally gains the slightest bit of sympathy and pulls out.
You harshly breathe in and out, your throat not used to be coerced like that. His cock was dripping in your saliva and you can’t seem to get your eyes off of it.
Taehyung promptly kneels in front of you and pushes you until you are laying back down. You shriek as he wraps his arms around your body and flips you around. The hard floor almost bruises your knees, but you didn’t mind because he quickly lays himself on top of you.
He angles his head close to you until his lips are barely hovering on top of the shell of your ear. “Your pussy’s dripping down your thighs, baby.” You release a moan right after he bites your ear, your stomach doing backflips. “I want you to take my dick like a good girl, okay? And if it hurts too much, just say stop, and I’ll stop.”
You can fucking feel his tip throbbing against your core. He teases your wet hole with his tip, precum leaking off of it. Your mind was clouded in desire, and all you can think about was how it feels to have cock deep in your guts.
A string of curses falls off of both of your lips, his tip pushing in and it immediately stretches your walls out wide. You buck your ass up for him, and that action made him slap your asscheek.
“Good girl,” he chuckles, “makin’ my job easier, huh?”
He grabs onto your hips and you feel that painful stretch, whimpering and moaning out loud. “Tae, fuck,” you grunt, “you’re so fucking big.”
Almost halfway in, he pulls out again, only to put his dick back in deeper. You throw your head back, mouth agape, completely speechless. Thanks to your sopping wet cunt, it relieved some of the pain.
He puts his right hand underneath you, reaching to grab your neck. His hair tickles your ear as he thrusts at a steady pace. His low grunts and whimpers can be heard, “Shit, Y/n. Only if you can see how wet you got my cock right now – fuck. This tight pussy fucking drips, baby. Mhmm, yeah, take that dick.”
The way he talks dirty to you got you clenching around him. He was utterly different from the Taehyung you’ve first talked to. His hands grip your neck tighter as he goes in deeper, deeper, deeper than you’ve ever thought he can.
“Holy fuck!” you clench your toes, “Taehyung, you’re so d-deep! I can’t…” you cry, body quivering as he ignores your cries, fucking you harder now.
“What? What is it, baby?” his balls slap against your clit, continuous lewd clapping sounds fill the area. You can feel him so deep inside of you that it feels unreal. You can feel the pain mixed together with pleasure, creating a weird yet a feeling so fucking good you don’t want him to stop. “I know you can take it harder than this. This little pussy can take it rougher, I know it. C’mon baby, be a good girl for me.”
Taehyung stops for a second to flip you around again, your back pressed against the floor. Your mouth dries from the sight of him: his neck and forehead damp in sweat, lips plump from all the lip bites, eyes seeming so lustful as he looks at you with an animalistic gaze.
A slow smirk reappears on his face, “God, you’re beautiful.”
Then and there, he plunges his cock back in. “Ohhh there we go,” he sighs, “there we fucking go.” He had the audacity to laugh, giggling from the way your body was quivering.
Taehyung lifts both of your legs up, placing them over his shoulders. The new position made you gasp, eyes wide, and his cock hit just the spot inside of you. Taehyung bites his lip, closing his eyes in pure pleasure. “Oh just like that!” you pant, hands finally having something to grab onto as your nails scratch Taehyung’s back. “Please don’t stop, Taehyung!”
He puts his head at the crook of your neck, his lips attaching to your dewy skin to lick the sweat off of it. He was making you feel so fucking dirty, turning you into a completely different person.
“You feel that, baby?” Taehyung asks, “feel how I’m burying my dick so deep inside your cunt? Nudging your fucking cervix with the head of my dick like this? Ohh, fuck yes,” he grins, seeing your eyes water once again, “No one will ever fuck you as good as my dick, Y/n. Fucking remember that.”
Your body jerks back and forth from how hard he was thrusting into you, his hips colliding with yours with vigor. You have never felt so intimate with a person before, and this exceeded your expectations. Taehyung holds onto your breast, groping it hard before giving it a little slap. With each hard thrust, your moans simultaneously fall off your lips.
“Please, please, please,” you beg pathetically, “I think I’m going to cum.”
“You are? Aw,” he fucks you harder, putting you faster to your climax, “My little virgin slut wanna cum on a dick for the first time?” How he can talk so straightforward like that without stuttering, despite the overwhelming euphoria he was feeling, was impressive. A knot inside your tummy grows bigger, feeling it snap anytime soon. “Cum all over me, baby girl. Make me proud and cum. Mhmm, that’s it, oh God baby you just got tighter.”
You moan with each hard and deep thrust, your hair sticking to your forehead and neck, hands digging deeper into his skin. One final hit on your g-spot, you cum all over his cock.
Taehyung praises you, watching your whole body shiver as he feels your cum spilling onto himself. He holds your face and presses his lips against yours, drinking all your whimpers. He smirks, finding you endearing how you struggle to kiss him back.
“I’m gonna cum inside of you baby,” he rasps, “gonna breed you so good with my hot cum, you’re gonna take all of it inside that pussy.” His thrusts turn sloppy and it slowly loses its original tempo, trying to catch his own high. Just the thought of his cum spilling out of your pussy, white sticky liquid leaking down to your asshole was all it took for him to orgasm.
He pummels his cock deep as hot ropes of cum spurts inside of you, filling your fresh womb. He grinds his hips hard, hands on either side of your head.
“Oh my fucking God,” he says after a while of the two of you just laying there. He looks at your fucked-out face, giggling, “You were so good for me.”
Taehyung had literally drained your energy and you lay there like a lone piece of meat.
“Y-You’re,” you barely whisper to him, “you’re insane.”
He chuckles, “I know right.”
He sits up from the floor and analyzes your body. Your chest was still heaving up and down. As he drags his eyes down south, he notices your knees were bruised. “Aw,” he pouts, placing his hand on your knee and rubs it. “We should’ve done this on the couch, huh?”
You roll your eyes, “I hate you so much.”
“But did you like the sex?”
You hate how you blushed at his question. A sneaky smile appears on your face, and that satisfies his inquiry.
“Let me get you dressed up, baby. Let’s continue this fucking painting tomorrow or something.”
It seems like ages since you’ve been inside the lecture hall. The last time was when the professor announced partners for this project, and here you are, with Taehyung, all freshmen and seniors waiting for the announcement.
Was the exhibition really a big deal? Some might ask.
For others, not really.
But for you, it may sound cliche, but it’s your dream.
Although then again, the whole campus would see your naked body from you and Taehyung’s painting.
Adjusting your posture on your seat, you release a ragged breath. Taehyung glances from beside you and places his right hand on your knee. He gives you a simple smile to reassure your nerves.
“What does it feel to get your art displayed at the exhibition?” you ask him in pure curiosity. He must feel incredibly proud of himself, right?
“Happy,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, “and surprised. Look, Y/n. I don’t always assume that I’ll have the highest score. There are plenty of talented artists around here, there’s always competition.”
“Who do you think is our biggest competition here?”
Taehyung doesn’t answer you immediately, for he takes his time to scan around the area. The room was already filled with students, familiar faces. He chuckles, quirking a brow at you as he plays with his lower lip at the same time.
“Do you really wanna know?”
You nod slowly as confusion settles in.
“Aside from my friend, Jeon Jungkook, I think Yeseul has a chance at winning.”
You feel a sour sensation in your stomach right after you hear her name being pronounced. You sink deeper into your chair, huffing, “And why’s that?”
“She’s in my batch, babe, and she often gets the highest scores because portraits are her forte. That’s her strong pursuit.”
Your eyes glance to where Yeseul was sitting, always at the front row, of course. She had her legs crossed, patiently waiting for the professor just like everyone around you.
“If she wins, I’ll—”
As if on cue, the door bursts open and the professor quickly walks in with her assistant. Her assistant holds a canvas, showing only the back part so that it’ll be a surprise to all of you.
Taehyung snakes his hand over to grab yours, intertwining them in his bigger one.
“Great to see all of you here again,” she stands behind the podium, “Partnering all of you is a first in our department, and truth be told, I am astounded as to see the wonderful portraits all of you have given me. I appreciate the time and effort since I know that this type of approach is new to everyone.”
“Can she just go straight to the point?” Taehyung whispers to you, making you giggle.
“The painting I have here,” the professor’s assistant continues, “has reached the highest score and will be displayed in the Fine Arts exhibition building.”
You look at Taehyung, who had such a strong gaze at the professors. His eyes were drawn into slits, biting the inside of his cheek. He seems so focused, eyes glued to the painting.
After the professor’s cue:
“3…
2…
1…” the canvas flips around.
“Lee Yeseul and—”
“—Oh my fucking god,” Taehyung gasps, his mouth forms a wide, surprised grin.
You feel as if a large boulder begins to weigh your entire body down. Your heartbeat starts to beat rapidly. Your shoulders droop down, tilting your head low.
You hate to admit it, but you were disappointed. The most down you’ve felt in a long time.
Watching Yeseul and her partner stand up to bow to the whole class feels as if your heart was a pincushion, being stabbed with tiny little spears.
Awfully enough, you admit to yourself that their painting is exquisite. Figuring that she made her partner her muse, Taehyung’s words about her totally made sense now.
“Well,” Taehyung chuckles, “better luck next time, I guess.” He takes the situation lightly, grabbing the straps of his bag, ready to leave.
Until he looks at you.
Good thing that the both of you are seated at the very back of the lecture hall and no one can see the way Taehyung tilts your head, resting his hand on your cheek. “Hey,” he softly mutters, “I’m proud of you, okay? So fucking proud.”
You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth after catching a glance of Yeseul’s dirty smile towards you.
“You’re still my little winner, m’kay?” he pats your head, “Remember that our efforts still matter, Y/n. Wait until I see that we got second fucking place.” Taehyung winks at you, once again trying to ease your tension.
Once the students start to crowd the exit door, you and Taehyung stand up to follow them.
Yeseul is talking to the professor, probably about the exhibition, when Taehyung pulls you closer to him. He leads you to the exit until you decide to turn your head around.
“Yeseul?” you immediately call out to her without any second thinking, and she raises her eyebrows at you.
Taehyung snakes his arm around your waist.
“Congrats,” you smile as you keep up with Taehyung’s footsteps.
That takes Yeseul by surprise. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Her mind goes blank.
“T-Thanks, I guess.” She replies.
Taeyung laughs loudly once at the hallways, “Don’t tell me that’s fucking sincere.”
“Definitely not sincere. Not sincere at all.”
Fast forward to three weeks, Taehyung had already graduated college, and it was the first day of vacation.
Finally!
After the whole portraiture project, it was finals season, and for you, that means cutting every social activity and focus on studying and paintings with deadlines.
But Taehyung just knows how to get you hooked. He promised that he’d treat you to a date after all the events are done. He invited you to a classic dinner date, to which you appreciated him when he declined your offer to split the bill.
He’s a total gentleman, that’s one word to describe him. But as soon as the four walls of his dorm engross the two of you, pushing you against the nearest wall, that ‘gentleman’ title of him goes straight to the trash.
Taehyung pins your wrists above your head, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses down from your lips and to your neck. “Remember the last time we did this, baby girl?” he chuckles, whispering close to your ear, “You became my little plaything.”
You scan the room as you think of something witty to reply. While his other hand crawls down south near your core, your eyes land on a spot above his study desk.
The portrait.
He displayed your nude portrait?!
Taehyung notices your silence and follows the direction of where you were staring. He looks behind him, then back to you with a smirk. “Ah, yes. I seem to have forgotten to tell you.”
“You’re a little devil.” Your face heats up as you look at your own body unclothed. “I think it’s great that the whole campus doesn’t have to see our painting.”
“Agreed. And now, your body is for my eyes only. You’re my art, displayed in my own little world.”
Tysm for reading! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy.
If you enjoyed reading this fic, I would really appreciate reading your thoughts and reactions by commenting or sending an ask! Those type of things make me rlly rlly happy and they’re fun to read!
>>genre: pwp, v little plot, smut, kinda fluffy, college au (kinda), established relationship
>>word count: 8.9k
>>warnings: romantic ass eating 😐, oral (m), fingering (m/f), butt stuff but it’s SEXY, explicit sex, crying, jungkook likes to be praised, soft koo, dom reader... but like soft, spitting in mouth, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, this is so soft, that good smut, literally like 7.5k of filth
>>notes: hot girls eat ass!! oc is a hot girl!! this involves butt stuff (just mouth and fingers, no pegging 😔), so if that isn’t ur cup of tea just read pt 1 again lol, i separated it this way in case there were people who weren’t down to go down... iykyk. but with that said, i encourage u to open ur eyes and ur mind and give this a chance 🤩
>>summary: jk finally lets you eat his ass 😁👍🏻
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
It’s day 6 of trying to get Jeongguk to let you eat his ass. It’s getting hard to function, and the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it used to. The week has been a rough one, filled with clenched butt cheeks, and fewer blow jobs than normal. You just can’t seem to stop yourself from wandering south when you’re down there, so you’ve lost the privilege. Constantly met with Jeongguk’s laughter filled eyes when he pulls you up to where you’re supposed to be, and a “You should not want to eat my ass this bad.”
He just doesn’t understand.
Currently you’re sat in the cafeteria with your friends, your eyes consistently roaming to a table across the large room. He’s laughing at something and his hands are clapping in front of him as he throws his head back. You rest your head on your arms, pouting, and you breathe a deep and miserable sigh.
“Alright y/n what the fuck?” Your friend Yuna says, flicking your cheeks.
Her speaking up causes a few of your other girlfriends at the table to direct their attention towards you. “Yeah, you’ve been like... pouty for the last few days. What’s going on?” Cho questions as well.
You debate keeping the silly internal struggle to yourself before giving in and stating plainly, “Gguk won’t let me eat his ass.” You blow absently at a piece of hair that falls into your face, eyes crossing as you look at it. Next to you, Jiwoo chokes on the zero cal drink that she’s been sipping.
Yuna stares at you blankly for a moment before recovering. “That’s... well that’s a predicament.” She hums in thought. “Does he actually not want to or is he just being shy and stubborn?”
“Second one.” You say. You’ve known your boyfriend for years and you’ve definitely learned how to tell when he’s being serious and when he’s just being stubborn. If you really thought he wasn’t about it you would have dropped it. But you know Jeongguk’s just being difficult because he thinks it’s funny to make you pine, and actually has at least some curiosity about the act. He just won’t admit it.
“Minjun was the same way,” Cho nods in solidarity. “But he likes it now.”
“How’d you get him to change his mind?” You ask perking up. A beacon of hope.
“We watched porn of it together.”
“That’s how I discovered it!” You gasp.
You pull your phone out to text your boyfriend.
you:
minjun let’s cho eat his ass 🥺
You watch Jeongguk from across the room and see the moment he receives the text. He searches the lunch room before his eyes land on yours and he let’s out an incredulous harsh laugh, before shaking his head slightly to himself. You glance at your phone and see the text bubble appear in your messages.
koo 🥴:
maybe he’ll let you eat it too 🥺
You gape at your phone and look at your boyfriend only to see him talking to his friends again. He gives you a side glance and you see his smile grow bigger as he tries to ignore you.
~~~
Jeongguk’s sitting at his lunch table picking at the food in front of him listening as Jimin rambles about the not-so-great grade he got on his latest science test. “Why the fuck do I need to know that the sun will make it too hot for life to exist on earth in a couple billion years? Not only will I be dead, but that is just anxiety inducing.”
His phone that’s vibrating on the table catches his attention, a picture message from you on the home screen. He gets a little excited at the sheer potential that a picture message has and opens it eagerly. Sure the chances of getting a titty pic when it’s mid-day and you’re both in the middle of a lunch cafeteria are small... but they are never zero.
When he opens the message and sees the picture, he laughs loudly before clapping his hand over his mouth to quiet himself.
baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:
He’s about to respond when Taehyung says, “Alright, you can’t keep laughing at your phone and not tell us what’s so funny.”
Jeongguk looks at the couple in front of him a trace of a smile still lingers on his lips. He shows them what you sent. “Y/n wants to eat my ass so bad.” He laughs to himself, going back to his phone.
“Are you not letting her?” Jimin asks.
Jeongguk sets his phone to the side before he gets to respond. It’s clear his friends are ready to have a conversation about it. “I don’t think so.”
Jimin and Taehyung look at each other and smirk. “Why not? It feels really good.”
He looks between them silently before asking, “You’ve done it?” He receives two nods.
“This one’s a real ass-muncher.” Taehyung says jerking a thumb at his boyfriend. Jimin swats at him.
“He says like that like its a bad thing and like he doesn’t cum from just my mouth and my fingers.” Jimin rolls his eyes.
Jeongguk tenses and turns a little red. A little tremor of heat coursing through his body at the thought of feeling so good that he could cum without even having a hand around himself. “Just from that? No dick touching? Is that even possible?”
“Oh to be straight and oblivious to the wonders of butt stuff.” Jimin pouts at him like he feels bad for him.
Taehyung on the other hand is a bit more helpful. He pops a fry in his mouth and talks with his mouth full, “It’s possible. We have like a button in our ass that’s like... magic. You know what a prostate is right?”
Jeongguk scoffs. “Obviously.”
“Okay well let her put her fingers and tongue in your ass then, if you know so much about it. Have you eaten hers?”
“Yeah I’ve had my tongue in every crevice of that girls body.” He’s nodding and smiling like he’s proud. He glances at you, and he sees you huddled next to your friend, looking closely at something on her phone, your long hair falling like a curtain over your shoulder, some pooling on the table. You look so pretty. You feel his stare, and look at him. Your smile is soft, and your lips pucker in a little kiss. Chuu.
“Right,” Jimin says bringing Jeongguk back to the topic at hand, “Well if she let you, and you’re open to it you should let her... like it will actually feel better for you than it probably did for her.” Jeongguk looks like he’s about to defend his honor and sex skills, before Jimin cuts him off, “Not saying you didn’t do it right or whatever. It’s just that guys are like programmed to like it... like biologically or- something.”
“Or something.” Jeongguk repeats.
“Why don’t you want to in the first place? Is it because you think it’s gay?” Taehyung asks laughing, knowing that that’s not why.
Jeongguk gives him a bored deadpanned stare. “No. Maybe it’s because I shit out of my ass and don’t want her mouth near it? She’s perfect, she doesn’t deserve that.”
Jimin cackles. “Well it’s not like you just let her go for it! You have to prepare.”
Jeongguk sits and listens as his friends give him nothing less than a full comprehensive lecture on the logistics of ass eating and ass getting ate. Ass 101. He’s still unsure but hearing from guys who have actually done it and enjoyed it makes him feel a bit more open and curious. It has him pulling out his phone and tentatively typing out a text to you, finally replying to the picture you sent.
me:
i’m thinking about it
He watches you, waiting for the text to get to you. He smiles when he sees you get excited at seeing his name on your home screen, something warm blossoming in his chest. He struggles to keep his face straight when he sees your head whip up, looking at him wide-eyed like you can’t believe what he just texted you. His fingers wiggle in a small wave, and the biggest smile slowly crawls across your face. He receives one last message before lunch ends.
baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:
say less, sir 🤤
~~~
Jeongguk lays on his back patiently, looking down at you below him while you take your time planting soft kisses all the way down his body. He was in a quite docile mood considering all the pestering you’ve put him through the past few days. And despite what you both knew you had planned for him. Something he claimed to be nervous about, but you supposed one could be nervous and excited and pliant all at once.
When you take one of his nipples into your mouth he lets out a soft “oh...” his hands flying up like he wants to wrap them in your hair, hold you there till he’s pleased, but he catches himself when his arms are halfway raised. He brings them back down by his sides, fists the sheets like he’s holding himself back, like he wants to be good for you. As you lick and suck on the paired nipple, feeling it pebble in your mouth, you watch Jeongguk’s mouth fall open silently while his eyebrows furrow and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between them. His cock is steadily going from warm and plump to hot and hard and leaking, you can feel it twitch against your lower belly.
He opens his eyes to watch you and you can see his pupils are blown and you smile up at him, a tiny bud still pulled between your teeth and Jeongguk whines. A high pitch needy, breathy noise falls from his lips before he pulls his bottom one between his teeth. His head turns to the side, baring his neck in subconscious submission, and God. He doesn’t get like this often but when he does? He is the prettiest sight.
Heat pools in your belly and your panties are already sticking to your bottom half. You hum before moving your ministrations to his torso, soft wet open mouth kisses being placed any and everywhere, prolonged ones on each of his abs. He works so hard for his body, his physique. It’s something he does for himself, but you feel lucky that you get to see him like this in all of his glory.
“Thank you.” You say as you place a kiss on the tattoo he has on his hip bone.
He hums, “For what?”
“For letting me see you like this,” You finally wrap a hand around his cock. You bite your lip when you feel it jump in your palm, “For letting me explore today. You’re so sexy, and so lovely, and so perfect. You work so hard, baby.” Kisses, so many kisses planted over his groin area, but never where he wants it most.
He huffs and you can see a flush from embarrassment darken the already present flush of arousal, due to the praise and mention of exploring. He squirms in your hold, not wanting to talk, probably wishing you would just get on with it already. Surely you can feel him throbbing in your hand, right?
Finally, you bring your lips to his frenulum and place the softest kitten lick to it and Jeongguk positively keens in your hold. You stroke his cock, squeezing on the upstroke to watch a bead of precum well at the top. It glistens, shiny and clear, at the pink head. You wrap your lips around the tip fully, lapping and swirling your tongue over it, humming at the heady, slightly bitter taste on your tongue. It’s not particularly pleasant per se but it’s sexy. The fact you get him so worked up that his cock can’t help but leak, so worked up that he can’t help the soft little whines that fall from his lips; the fact that he gets so turned on and hard and wet just from a few of your kisses and licks makes you moan with his cock in your mouth, thighs squeezing together for some type of pressure and relief.
You pop off with a harsh suck. “I can’t wait to taste you.” You groan, licking a broad stripe up his cock with the flat of your tongue.
He grumbles quietly shifting, sort of like he’s antsy and frustrated. He knows what you mean and he knows you don’t mean his cock that you just had in your mouth.
“What was that?” You ask through a smile, nipping at his hip with your teeth.
“Can you stop talking about it and just suck my dick so I can forget you’re even gonna do that?” He rolls his eyes and pouts down at you with a tiny scowl on his face.
“Oh baby,” You laugh, not patronizingly, but there is a little bit of a teasing lilt to your voice, “Are you still embarrassed?”
He doesn’t answer, just scowls harder if that was even possible.
You move away from his cock, and up his body. His eyes reflect panic and his hands finally move from the sheets to press on your shoulders, trying to keep you in place. “No, stay,” he whines.
You laugh again pushing against his hold before finally settling half on his chest. You rest a leg over his thigh, keeping your body close and pressed to his. You look into his big brown doe eyes that are slightly glassy from all the teasing. You can see some apprehension and nervousness swimming in them as you place a hand on his cheek, stroking softly. He closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm before his hand comes up to hold your wrist, to just touch some more. His other hand runs up and down your body that’s resting half on top of him, tickling slightly like your the one that needs attention. He kisses your hand that’s on his cheek softly before looking at you again.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You say quietly, thumb brushing over his cheek bone.
His eyes fall closed again and you can see his brow furrow once more, though this time it isn’t out of pleasure it’s because he’s thinking. Despite all the playful teasing and pestering and banter, you’ve always made sure to check that he was actually okay with you going down there. And, yeah, he was nervous but after talking about it seriously and doing some research together he always said he was fine with it. But you know things can change in the moment and you just want to double check, make sure that he still feels that way.
You hum in question gently, prompting a response.
He huffs, tightening his grip on your wrist, a nervous gesture. His eyes are still closed when he quietly says, “No I just... I- I’m not like backing out...”
“You can though.” You interrupt.
His eyes open quickly, and he shakes his head. “No, no I want to I just...” His voice starts off strong but tappers into a softer tone. “I want to I just feel a bit like... weird.”
Your brow furrows this time. “Why, baby?”
“I feel like I shouldn’t want you to.” He doesn’t meet your eyes and you can feel his cheek heat up in your palm.
Ahhhh, you think. Although you talked and teased about the topic, you realize that while Jeongguk agreed (whilst impishly feigning a faux diswant on principle) you never realized that the lighthearted “You shouldn’t want to eat my ass this bad” remarks may have stemmed from something serious, and weren’t just playful protests.
“Why do you feel that way?” You press gently.
His eyes flicker to you and then to your mouth, then back to something (nothing) off to the side. He has a small not-so-amused smile on his lips when he says, “It’s kinda taboo isn’t it?”
You can’t help but giggle at the word he used. Taboo. Out of all the things you guys have done, this is what he chooses to get shy about. Sweet boy.
“Not any more tabooo than you wanting to eat my ass, or fuck my ass.” You hum at him, stretching out the word in a teasing manner, making him look at you. You smile at him before continuing, “Or you like slapping me, or me gagging you with my panties, or-“
“Okay okay! I get it.” He laughs and places a kiss to your lips to get them to stop moving.
You beam, glad to see he’s a bit more relaxed. The boner however, is definitely gone, but that can be fixed.
“I’m not trying to convince you though.” You emphasize, “I only want to if you want to.”
He nods, softly smiling at you. “I want to.”
A salacious grin takes over your face and you sigh softly into his ear before whispering, “Perfect... I’m going to make you feel so good baby, make you feel so good with my tongue. Get you all whiny and red and sweaty. Maybe your legs will start to shake from how good it feels? Do you want that, Jeongguk?” You nip at his ear lobe as you feel a slight tremor run through his body. Your hips subtly roll against the side of his body, seeking any friction at this point. You feel him nod. “Maybe if you like my mouth enough we can use fingers when you’re ready baby.” You hear him suck in a sharp breath and slowly let it out on a shaky exhale. You grin and place a kiss to his temple before continuing. “Get them inside of you to find that spot that will really set you off. The spot that will make you cum for me. Wouldn’t that feel so good baby?”
He nods again and you can feel the hand that has been running up and down your back throughout the conversation grip at your ass roughly.
“Say it baby, I wanna hear you.”
He whines and struggles against the hand on his face that is now gripping his jaw, still putting up a little bit of a fight about wanting something he considers “taboo”. But he gives in easily enough when he realizes you won’t continue until you get more confirmation that he genuinely wants this, and is excited to have it.
“It’s gonna feel so good y/n. God, you’re gonna make me feel so good.” He’s shy when he says it, but he’s almost panting as well. At last, he’s giving in and admitting to himself that this is something that will feel good and is okay to want.
He grips your face and kisses you. It starts slow and tentative but quickly manifests into a kiss that is deep and hard, one that is full of lust and neediness. He bites at your lip needing to release some of the pent up frustration but at your whine of pain he licks over it apologetically, placing softer kisses instead for a moment before he rests his forehead against yours, both your breathing is ragged for a minute until he speaks up.
“Please y/n. I’m so hard.” He pleads in a soft whisper.
You take a second and look down between your bodies and sure enough, his cock has returned to full hardness, and your mouth waters seeing even more precum welling at the tip than before.
“I’m gonna suck it.”
“Please do.” Jeongguk laughs as you move down his body, but the laugh goes high pitched and breathy when you take him down your throat immediately.
“Fuck...” he sighs, his head falling back and eyes fluttering.
You pull off and close your eyes, relishing in the fact that you can make him feel like this. Grinning against his cock you place a kitten kiss to the shaft. “Good baby?”
He nods his head. “Yes yes, please keep going.”
You hum against the head causing Jeongguk to exhale sharply, hips twitching due to the vibrations. He’s so sensitive and you crave the reactions you pull from him. Whether they’re the soft noises and the small twitches or the loud moans and jerking muscles, they are all equally loved and desired.
Quickly you pull off and reach up placing your hand under his mouth, before he can protest at you pausing again. Maybe you’re being a little mean, but he sounds so pretty when he’s desperate and you just can’t help yourself.
“Spit.” You instruct.
You see him work his jaw, sharp edges protruding here and there while he gathers some in his mouth before spitting it into your hand. You peck a nipple on the way back down to his cock wrapping the spit filled hand around him. You see him watching you and you hold eye contact as you gather some of your own and let it drool from your mouth landing on the tip of his cock. You swear you see his eyes go impossibly darker, his jaw clenching, hands turning to fists in the sheets beneath you both.
When you stroke, mixing everything, his eyes close and he lets out a breath through his nose as he rests back and gets a little more comfortable. It’s not too messy, just the perfect amount of wetness for the glide to be slick and pleasing for him. You tighten your grip and twist under the head watching as the muscles in his stomach and thighs tense, a soft grunt draws your gaze to his face.
“Yeah... like that...” he whispers. He’s just barely rocking his hips into your hands, trying to be subtle while also trying to chase the feeling.
You speed up your hand, keeping up the movements he likes while adding your tongue to flick at the underside of his head. You glance at him and find him watching you again, a fucked out look on his face, mouth slightly parted and a bead of sweat running down his temple. Slowly you sink down watching him till you can’t anymore, burying the tip of your nose in the soft patch of neatly kept hair at the base of his cock. When you feel him hit the back of your throat you contract it and shake your head from side to side and finally, finally you pull out one of his loud and unrestrained moans. It goes straight to your pussy, making it feel like it’s pulsing in your panties.
You come up for a breath before you stay down as long as you can repeating the same actions that pulled the lovely moans from his throat and you continue to hear them as you feel him start to sink his hips, almost like he’s overwhelmed and trying to pull away from how good it feels, like he can’t handle how how good it feels.
In your peripheral vision you can see his hands twitching like he’s fighting with himself before he gives in and sinks them into your hair, pulling slightly before pushing your head down and bringing his hips back up. He’s not fucking your face, but he let’s his cock sink as far back as it can and let’s you work your throat around him, lets himself get overwhelmed instead of pulling away from the feeling like he was before.
Jeongguk was a head pusher in every sense of the term. Some people hated when their partners did that, but you loved it. You loved it because Jeongguk was different from most head pushers. He had variety. Sometimes he liked pushing your head down and holding you there to choke you and watch tears form in your eyes, to watch your makeup run while you struggled to breathe. Sometimes he did it in a face-fucking way, his hips jackhammering while he moved your head up and down just the way he wanted it. This time though, he held your head down in a begging way. In a way that said “Oh god please, please don’t stop, it feels so fucking good, please stay there forever”.
Jeongguk is whimpering above you and you hum and moan loudly sending strong vibrations up your throat and down his cock and he’s thrashing, throwing his head back, grip in your hair tightening, a pleasant pain on your scalp.
“Oh my fucking god,” He groans, neck extended and his eyes squeezed shut.
His whole body is burning when you bring a hand down to massage his balls while still moving your throat against his tip and then all of a sudden he tenses and stills before he’s pulling you off, frantically chanting “Stop it, stop it.”
At lightening speed you grip the base of his cock, squeezing, trying to keep his orgasm at bay. Jeongguk’s whole body jerks with his cock, but no cum leaks out, only precum and spit making a mess on his angry, swollen cock. He relaxes back for a moment, cock still jumping, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath and you do the same and after you slowly release the hold you have on his cock you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.
Suddenly your world is blurry and you’re quickly being pulled to his chest and smothered with his hands on your cheeks, and his lips everywhere they can reach.
“God. You’re so good, so so good y/n. So perfect, make me feel so good baby. How do you do it?” He praises you between kisses and you giggle, gently pawing at his chest to get him to stop or at least slow down.
He does and you take a second to look at him. And he’s glowing. His eyes are shining, like he was close to tears and his cheeks are flushed. His sweaty hair sticks to his forehead in places while the longer pieces are fanned out on the pillow underneath him. And his smile. He’s beaming and you are so in love.
You bring a hand up and brush some sweaty strands back off his face. His eyes close and he pushes into the touch like a kitten wanting pets. He sighs contentedly.
“You’re so beautiful, Jeongguk. So pretty.” You whisper, placing a kiss to his forehead.
You bring your hand down from his hair and cradle his cheek, running your thumb over his plump, red bottom lip. You can see faint teeth marks underneath it from where he was biting it. His eyelashes flutter on his cheek as his eyes close and he sighs quietly before he nibbles on the fingertip with his front teeth and then takes the whole thing into his mouth, sucking on it. You gasp quietly, and apply light pressure pushing down on the wetness of his tongue prying his mouth open and he just lets you.
Your lips find his, and you dip your tongue into his open mouth before your hand moves to his jaw to keep it agape and you fuck your tongue into it.
“This is how my tongue is gonna fuck you...” you whisper.
He whines high and needy, and his hands move to cup your cheeks. You moan before settling over him more comfortably and pushing your soaked panties to the side before wiggling till his cock is settled between your lips.
The night was supposed to be about him, but you need something before you lose it. You move your hips in small little thrusts, the length of his cock rubbing deliciously over you clit. You both gasp into each others mouths. The hands on your ass encourage you, pressing into your cheeks and the small of your back whenever you thrust forward, and the thumbs on your hips push when you grind back.
“Holy fuck you’re so wet.” He’s says it like he’s in awe, like he can’t believe it. Like he hasn’t made you this way so many times before.
You rest your forehead on his while continuing to grind on his cock. “Love you like this...” You grip his jaw again and pry it open, even though you know he would open willingly if you just asked. You look in his eyes searching, before you feel him nod in your hold. You lean forward over his mouth and let some spit fall into it, he moans while he eagerly drinks it down.
His grip on your hips tightens and you feel his cock jerk against your clit, but he’s good. He doesn’t cum.
“I love it too... just not all the time... it’s- a lot. Overwhelming.” He whispers, and you coo.
“I know baby, you’re doing so well. Color?” You ask.
“Green.” He answers without hesitation.
You smile and kiss him. “Wanna keep going?”
He flushes when he nods his head. “Please.”
Once again you find yourself between Jeongguk’s legs. You play with his cock a little before smoothing your hands under his thighs, trying to gently push them up and back but he whines and resists.
“You have to let me see baby.” You say, a smile in your voice.
Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before slowly letting his legs fall apart.
You hum, before saying, “Hand me a pillow please.”
He’s confused but does as you ask, understanding when you tap the side of his cheek with instructions to lift his hips, pillow settling underneath his ass and lower back, propping them up a little.
You settle back down on your tummy, and open his legs again. Jeongguk says nothing but you can feel his body shaking a little with a constant tremor. He takes a deep breath settling back into the pillow he placed behind his head so he can watch what you do next.
“Ready?” You ask, hands gripping at the meaty inside parts of his thighs. You get a stiff nod, but still no noises. You pout but get started by running your tongue flat over his balls, hoping to ease him into it.
You feel his thighs tense, as you lap at the hairless balls, sucking them into your mouth every once in a while. Your eyes constantly flicker to Jeongguk’s face to make sure there’s nothing wrong, but all you see is pleasure on his face while he breathes out in soft little puffs through his nose. His eyes are hooded and his lip is drawn between his teeth.
You hold his heady gaze and you place your first little lick on his perineum. At the contact, his head falls back, mouth hanging open. You wiggle closer to place a kiss to the area, transitioning to quick little flicks of your tongue and Jeongguk moans, and you watch as he spreads a bit more, lifting his feet so his knees are pulled closer to his chest, giving you easier access. You moan at his eagerness, and have to stop for a minute, putting a hand between your legs to just press on your center for some kind of relief.
His eyes are still closed, like he doesn’t want to see you between his legs licking at his most private area, but his quiet whining and restless shifting is enough to let you know that he’s okay and enjoying it.
You bring your hands up and place one on each of his cheeks, squeezing a little, admiring the soft give of his muscles. He’s so plush. You apply pressure so his legs fall farther back and then spread him apart. You bite your lip and your mouth waters at the thought of how good your going to make him feel.
Tentatively you poke your tongue out and trace it around the little ring of muscle. He gasps and tries to clench and close his legs but you hold them in place.
“It’s okay baby.”
“‘S weird...” He mumbles.
“I know. Just try to relax for me, okay?”
You hear him take a few deep breaths before you feel his body shake with a nod. His legs fall open again and you make quick work of his hole, placing your tongue flat over it, dragging all the way up to where his balls meet his perineum.
“Ohhh,” He breathes out.
You take that as a good sign before getting a bit rougher with your actions, less of the tentative licks and more of some tight sucking and quick flicking. He’s doing so well and you can hear him moaning above you. His cock is so hard and swollen on his belly, neglected and leaking.
“Pull your legs back baby.”
He opens his eyes and they are unfocused. It takes him a second to process what you asked him to do, but once he does he moves quickly. He has a hazy look in his eyes, his mouth in parted slightly, and his tongue peaks out to wet his lips as he gets comfortable in the new position.
“Watch me?” You plead, while licking over his hole again, eyes not leaving him waiting for a response.
His eyes close for just a moment and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between his brows and his cock jumps, a little spurt of precum oozing out. He inhales and opens his eyes on the exhale, breathing out a small “Okay.”
Once you start to figure out what he likes and what makes him happy, all you hear is the steadily getting louder pleased noises falling from his lips. You point your tongue and gently push past the tight ring of muscles and Jeongguk sobs. He brings a hand to his face and rubs over it, before throwing his arm over his face, hiding because he’s so overwhelmed. To your surprise he starts to gently rock against your tongue.
“Oh my god you’re so hot Jeongguk,” You moan.
“Don’t stop,” He begs. He sounds close to tears.
“Touch yourself, baby.”
You wait until you see his hand wrap around his cock giving himself a few slow strokes, wet eyes on you, waiting for you to keep going.
As soon as your mouth meets him again, his hand he has on his cock starts moving faster, almost frantically over his length and his hips are stuttering like he doesn’t know if he wants to fuck his hand or if he wants to fuck himself back onto your tongue. You decide for him and hold his hips close to your face, sucking repeatedly on the ring of fluttering muscle.
Jeongguk gasps, “I’m close, I wanna cum y/n- Please, I-“ His head falls back and his hand doesn’t slow.
You give your hum of approval against his hole, and watch him fall apart.
His head is thrown back and he’s so sweaty from working so hard for his release. His chest rises and falls in quick staccato breaths, and his free hand goes up to a nipple, lightly rubbing his thumb over it and he keens, before he goes silent, whole body stuttering and he chokes out nothing more than a quick, quiet “Cumming” before his cock pulses and shoots out 1, 2, 3 stripes of white, the rest dribbling down his length and over his fingers. His body almost convulses from the pleasure coursing through his veins. He keeps stroking, and he lets you keep licking until he squirms, uncomfortable from the overstimulation.
You wipe your mouth and immediately make your way up to his face, straddling his hips. You don’t care about the cum, but you’re carful to avoid his sensitive cock, which is a little deflated but still laying somewhat hard on his tummy. You’re both out of breath when you slam your lips against his so it’s more gasping into each other’s mouths while your lips occasionally meet before you need a breath again. But you’re desperate to show him how good he did.
You pull back and grip his face in your hands. His hands hold your wrists, like he’s keeping them in place on his cheeks. He’s still catching his breath with his eyes closed, but you want him to see how proud you are.
“Jeongguk, look at me.”
He does and his eyes are glassy and wet and his eyelashes are clumped together with unshed tears. He offers you a sheepish smile.
“You did so good baby. So fucking good. I love you.” You pepper kisses over his face.
He laughs breathlessly, “Didn’t get to your fingers...”
You laugh with him quietly. “That’s okay baby, we can do that next time. You were perfect.” You take a deep breath and collapse on top of him, resting your face in the crook of his neck, smiling while leaving small lovebites all over.
After a minute or so though, you feel him start to get restless underneath you.
“What is it baby?” You ask not really moving much.
He mumbles something into the top of your head.
“Huh?” You say sitting up to look at him.
He looks kinda petulant for someone who just came so hard it hit their neck.
He mumbles again.
“Koo. Words.”
He blushes and scowls looking away from you but the hands settled on your hips rub small circles into your hip bones, showing he’s not actually mad and most likely just being a brat.
“I want them now.” It’s quiet and pouty, but at least you understand him this time.
Your mouth opens in understanding but your eyebrows raise in surprise. You look over your shoulder and down to see his cock still laying plump and hard on his stomach in a little puddle of cum.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I know we said that was the plan but we can always do it ano-“
He grabs the back of your neck pulls you down to kiss you deep and slow, his tongue finding it’s way into your mouth. When he speaks again it’s soft against your lips.
“Please y/n... it felt so good,” A tiny peck is given as your noses touch.
You exhale a shaky breath, “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want.”
He kisses you deeply again, but positions you over his cock so he can rut up into your pussy.
“Can’t you feel how bad I want it?” He whispers against your lips. He nips at the bottom one while smiling before pulling away and settling against the pillows again, looking at you expectantly once he gets comfortable.
You roll your eyes playfully. “Big words coming from someone who claimed they didn’t even want this like an hour ago.” You smile down at him, eyes sparkling.
He snickers. He breathes a deep sigh before settling back even more. “Yeah. That was before I came so hard that I almost blacked out.” His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed like he’s reminiscing about a distant memory, a smug smile on his lips.
“You switch from being my baby to a pain so fast.” You pout as you settle once again between Jeongguk’s legs.
He parts them with a hum. “Still your baby... just- make me feel good please, I’m like so hard- throbbing.”
You suck on your fingers a little bit to get them wet before circling one around the ring of muscles. You don’t miss the tiny gasp, or the way his legs subconsciously part even wider.
“I don’t think it’s gonna feel the best at first....” You warn, applying the slightest pressure to his hole, before going back to circling it. “Hand me the lube on the nightstand please.”
Jeongguk obliges before he says, “I know just... go slow.” He sounds just a little bit nervous.
You give a quick nod while you open up Jeongguk’s half empty bottle of lube and drizzle some onto your fingers, lathering it over them to warm it some before getting them into position.
“Do you think about me when you use this?” you ask still running your slick fingers over him.
He nods and licks his lips subconsciously. “Mhmm sometimes.”
You fake gasp and bite at his knee by your side. You’re sitting crisscross applesauce in between his legs. “Only sometimes?”
“I watch porn too,” He giggles breathlessly. “Sometimes I look for girls that look like you though, if that helps.”
“It does not.” You say indignantly, only half joking.
He brings his foot up and lightly kicks at your leg. “You watch porn too that’s literally why we are in this mess right now. We watched it together.”
You full on laugh at that. He has a point. “Okay enough, hush and relax baby.”
You weren’t sure if it was better to warn Jeongguk, or just slowly ease him into it without saying anything. If you warned him you knew he would tense up and it would just make it harder on his body, but you also didn’t want to take him by surprise either.
You must have just been circling his rim for a minute because Jeongguk huffs before asking, “Are you gonna like... put it in or...?”
You take that as a go, and peck the inside of his thigh a preemptive apology because you knew it was going to hurt a little. Jeongguk had prepped you for the times you tried anal with him and you vividly remember the sting before it became bearable. Your hands and fingers were much smaller than his, and certainly much smaller than his cock, so you are hoping the pain isn’t too horrible and ends quickly.
Oh so slowly you start to sink your middle finger inside of him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and when you flick your eyes up to look at him you can see his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry are you okay? Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t really hurt yet, it’s just uncomfortable... Keep going.”
You nod softly before you resume what you were doing, and once you get down to your last knuckle, you wiggle your finger around inside for a second like you had seen in the porn that you and him watched together, hoping to stretch him out some.
Above you Jeongguk is taking shallow breaths the sort of sound like they are getting a little higher pitched at the end, and he shifts and wiggles a bit because of the foreign feeling. You glance at his cock and see that’s its gone just a little soft.
“Touching yourself might help you relax a little bit and it might make it feel a little bit better.” You suggest lightly.
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything but he does as he’s told, slowly stroking his cock back to it’s full length.
“That’s it, good boy. I can feel you’re less tense already.” You praise, and you start to move your finger in and out. It’s tight, but there’s a lot less resistance. You move them just a bit faster and focus on Jeongguk’s reactions.
His hand has started to move a bit faster over his cock, and his mouth is parted and his eyes are closed, like he’s lost in the feeling. There’s a flush on his face that has travelled all the way down his chest. Soft moans fall from his lips occasionally, although you can’t tell if that’s from you or him touching himself.
“Does it feel good?” You ask, genuinely curious.
“It feels…” He pauses like he’s unsure. “It feels… nice. I think.”
You snort. “You think?”
He laughs a little breathless, hand still stroking over his cock. “I mean it’s weird. But it’s not unpleasant. I could probably cum if I kept touching my dick.”
“Don’t cum, I haven’t found your button yet.” Your eyebrows furrow, determination set on your face.
“I do not have a button.” He says absently.
“You do. I’m gonna do the second one kay?”
“I don’t and okay.”
You ignore him and grab the lube again, adding a bit more. Your fingers find their place and as they start to sink in, Jeongguk sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, and goes rigid. You wince.
“Hurts…” He says quietly.
“I’m sorry baby.” You rub your free hand over his thigh, trying to comfort him. You give him a moment, he takes a few breaths before saying to keep going.
It takes a little bit but eventually you get both fingers in. Jeongguk isn’t feeling good yet, teeth grinding, body tense, and hands fisted in the sheets trying to ground himself, but you are determined to make it good for him. You get on your stomach and add your tongue to your fingers as you start to pull them out just to push them back in. The lube doesn’t taste very good, but the way that Jeongguk’s breath hitches when he feels your mouth on him again makes up for it.
“I- I love that.” He says, voice airy and soft as he turns his head to the side and into his shoulder like he’s trying to hide.
“Mmm, starting to feel good now baby?” You ask, flicking your tongue while your fingers start to sink in easily.
“Yeah, ‘s good…” He mumbles.
Once you’re sure that there’s no pain at all for Jeongguk, you start to crook your fingers inside of him on every thrust in trying to find that secret spot of his. Jeongguk sounds lovely while you’re searching, but the way he sounds when you finally hit it is like nothing you’ve heard from him before. It’s like he gets punched in the gut and looses his breath, a moan getting caught in his throat for a moment before he exhales a high pitched whine. You didn’t get to see it, too focused, but you know his eyes rolled back.
“There,” he breathes.
You moan as you rest your head against his thigh, focusing on your attention on your fingers and hitting that spot every time you move them inside of him. Each time you hit it sweet moans are punched out, or quiet affirmations are whispered. “Yes, please, more…”.
He has that look of pleasure on his face, the scrunched eyebrows, the parted mouth. He’s fidgety, and fussy like he just wants more but doesn’t know how to get it. He huffs, annoyed, before he starts to push back on your fingers.
“God… you’re so desperate for it,” You whisper completely captivated by how much pleasure Jeongguk looks like he’s in.
He doesn’t acknowledge you. Until you start to put a constant pressure on his prostate, rubbing.
“Oh fuck- I-“ He looks down to where your fingers are like he can’t believe the way they are making him feel before he throws his head back and let’s out a deep groan.
He lets you make him feel good, let’s the pleasure build up in his body until you start to feel him tense. His whines start to come out more frequently, almost constant moans filling the air. So noisy. His legs open more and you see how his toes curl in the sheets.
“Oh my god I think I’m gonna cum,” It’s said breathlessly, almost confused. Like he didn’t think that he would actually be able to cum just from your fingers inside of him, hands still at his sides fisted in the sheets.
“Yeah baby?” You ask, voice airy.
He nods, tongue poking out of his mouth like he’s concentrating.
Your arm hurts, but you keep thrusting and rubbing over that spot inside of him. His muscles are strained, and next to your body, you can see his legs start to tremble. His breathing is fast and short. His cock is fat and swollen laying in a puddle of precum, it looks like it hurts with how red it is. You take you other hand and start to rub on his perineum, stimulating him on the outside as well as the inside and that’s when he loses it.
He let’s out a choked cry before his body jerks up, curling in on itself. “Oh fuck I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-“
You don’t let up, an awestruck smiling forming on your face as you watch Jeongguk fall apart on your fingers. He’s so tight around them, it’s like his body is begging you not to stop, keeping you in place. He feels like every hair on his body is standing on end and like his skin is overly receptive and sensitive to every little thing. Wave after wave of ecstasy is flowing over him. His whole body trembles, yet his cock doesn’t jerk like with his other orgasm. This time it just pulses flat on his stomach, cum leaking out of the tip adding to the mess that was already there. With every pulse of his cock, Jeongguk’s body curls more, back raise off the bed, abs flexed due to the strain on his core. The look on his face is one of indescribable pleasure. It’s obscene. After the final pulse of his cock, he falls back, absolutely spent.
Your fingers slowly come to a stop, and you carefully remove them from him and wipe them on the bed before you crawl over his thigh and flop down by his side. You peck his cheek, staying quiet this time, not wanting to overwhelm him. He’s still has tremors running through his body when he turns his head to look at you. His chest is heaving and his eyes are droopy, but there’s a sleepy smile on his lips. He curls onto his side so you guys are facing each other.
The silence is thick and heavy but not in a suffocating way. More so in a comforting way. The atmosphere feels like you both are wrapped in a weighted blanket, just relishing in the warm afterglow of what you did together.
You wiggle closer, hook a thigh over his hip. “How was it? Did you like it?” You don’t know why but you sound shy, kinda nervous.
He simply nods, a soft smile on his face as he brushes some hair behind your ear, hand coming to rest on your cheek for just a few seconds before it’s sliding down your arm, down your hip, playing with lacy top of your panties. He bumps noses with you, breathing in your exhales before he closes his eyes and fits his lips between yours. His hand slips into your panties.
You open easily for him, angling yourself mostly on your back so it’s easier for him to reach where you want him most. He sighs into your mouth when he feels how wet you are. He dips between your lips and you gasp, hand going down to grip at his wrist willing him not to tease, to not move his hand away.
“Don’t worry, I just wanna make you feel good baby.” He coos in your ear as his middle finger starts to rub slowly over your clit.
You let out soft whimpers at the slow pace that makes the fire in your belly curl and steadily grow.
“Jeongguk, I’m already close…” You warn.
“Mmm, that’s it baby. Want you to cum for me, like I came for you.” His finger speeds up some. “Fuck, you made me cum so hard y/n. Made me crazy. You always do.” He moans gently into your ear.
You nod, and your legs begin to tremble. “Don’t stop,” You beg, meaning both his fingers and his words.
“You wanna know what it felt like? You wanna know what you did to me?” He presses a touch harder, and nips are your cheek.
You nod again, subtly rocking your hips into his touch.
“You made me cum untouched y/n. Do you know how good you had to fuck me in order for that to happen? God, it was so intense, and I was just leaking so much the whole time. You did that to me baby, you made me feel that good. Fuck, I wanna make you feel that good too, please cum for me y/n. I know you’re close, I know your body just as well as you know mine.” He sounds desperate, just yearning to get you there. “I can tell by the way your legs are shaking, and the way you can’t stop whining my name. Sound so pretty baby, just for me. Your hand on my wrist is gripping so hard, like you can’t take what my fingers are doing to you. But you’re gonna take it and give me what I want right? Just like I gave you what you wanted, hmm?”
“Fuck, Jeongguk I’m cumming,” You cry, his words and his fingers making you shake and finally get the release that you’ve been putting off the whole night. Your thighs close over his hand but Jeongguk doesn’t let up, not until you’re cumming for the second time in a span of minutes.
“Please- I can’t-“ You squirm, and wiggle, until his fingers slow and finally slip form your panties. You sigh in bliss, body twitching as the last bits of your climax leave your body.
You turn back to your side and snuggle all the way against Jeongguk’s body, legs intertwining. Jeongguk runs his nails over your back, making little goosebumps sprout over your body. There’s a peaceful quiet coming over you, both tired from the events of the night. Jeongguk breaks it.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” It’s a timid statement, but you can hear how much he means it.
You kiss softly over his heartbeat. “I always will.”
“Just please don’t ever ask to peg me.”
You simply hum. “Goodnight baby.”
------------------------
i hope you liked it!! i’m thinking of writing a smutty drabble of when oc and jk watch the porn together 🤨 let me know if you would want to read that or anymore of this universe! comments, notes, and feedback are YEARNED for. my ask is also open if you want to request, share thoughts, or just talk
SUMMARY: Soulmates are a common thing. Everyone has one. Some people think soulmates are the greatest gift fate could give, others are envious about happy couples that were lucky enough to receive a wonderful partner. One of them was Min Yoongi. Your time to meet your significant other hasn’t come yet, stumbling into the tattoo parlor with a simple idea in mind, not knowing that you will be bound to step by more often. When you leave for the first time, you’ll go home with your masterpiece of a tattoo.
When you leave for the second time, you’ll go home with not only one, but two soulmates.
The man that was supposed to be your only soulmate, the one that never wanted to tell you that he woke up with the exact same koi karp tattoo just sits and watches - until he can’t take the pain anymore.
GENRE: Soulmate!Au
PAIRINGS: Y/N x Taehyung x Jungkook x Namjoon x Jimin x Yoongi / Hoseok x Seokjin.
WORD COUNT: 9k
WARNINGS: strong language, NSFW, oral sex, ass eating, sub!jungkook (for once), dom!yoongi, sort of public sex, unprotected sex, shower sex, submissive headspace
NOTES: we are back from our summer break! even though we posted small drabbles here and there, i'm sure i can speak for both dolly and i that we really missed the chaotic mess that moonchild turned into.
we can also finally announce that this era is soon coming to an end after the 20th chapter. this world has accompanied us for almost 2 years once we will finish it- and gave us a lot of inspiration for THE NEW FIC WE ARE GOING TO WRITE which will be completely different from this one. but i won't spoil too much for now, hehe.
well, in this chap a lot of things are happening. read for yourself
It’s your first time ever visiting Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s home and to be honest, your nerves are a little bit all over the place. A while ago, Seokjin has been asking you if you’d be interested in trying out new products and flavors for the coffee shop, knowing that Hoseok and Jimin would like anything sweet and probably say yes to each and every product. So he's been asking you instead, loving the way your face scrunches up whenever Hoseok brings you a dessert that isn’t exactly your taste-he just knows you’re going to be honest and eager about Seokjin’s new options.
But each time you both tried to find the time and trying to set up everything in his shop, people ended up interfering; one day it was Jimin on a sugar high asking for kisses, crying until you actually accepted to go home with him, on another one Yoongi whined about getting his coffee because he’s been stuck with that one design he had to finish and Seokjin being the only barista had to refill his cup every two minutes, and you even got Hoseok being… Well himself, overly happy to have you try new things with him and it just ended up with him feeding you until you couldn’t eat anymore.
You and Seokjin have thus decided that maybe the café wasn’t the best place to try out whatever Seokjin hat planned, that is why you’re now sat in their kitchen, waiting for him to find the box filled with new exciting ingredients he apparently kept here for your session to finally start.
He has been enthusiastic about it, patiently waiting to find the right moment and right place, surprisingly being more relaxed than you about your numerous interruptions.
He even told Jungkook about it, asking him if he wanted to come rather than to let an uncomfortable feeling sit between them. Not only because of how weird Seokjin and his dongsaeng got, but also because he knows about the younger’s sweet tooth. Jungkook had shyly refused, feeling like he needed to apologize to his older friend for making him feel like he needed his authorization to see you.
Jungkook is not proud of himself for that, but he appreciated Seokjin’s invitation nonetheless, despite declining it. He kissed your cheek this morning before you left; you immediately noticed him lingering, as if asking for forgiveness to have work today. He would have enjoyed spending more time with you and Seokjin after all, but he knows better than to piss off Yoongi and ask for another day when the older man has already been complaining about him slacking off. Jungkook has just accepted that he had to work a bit more nowadays and he knew you’d have a great time with Seokjin; he’s not that worried anymore (despite the thousand little messages and selfies he sent as if worried you’d forget about him).
“I just took the cooler because I don’t know what you’d rather start with but I have a feeling we’re only going to have a lot of sugar today,” Seokjin winks when you smile sheepishly because he’s definitely right, you’re in a sugar mood today. Well, you are most of the days, but Jungkook has been trying to keep all of you healthy and fit the last couple of weeks, so you’re happy to finally have an excuse to munch on as many treats as you can.
“What can I say, sugar is great and it sells!” You hear a chuckle at your bad attempt to justify yourself. Seokjin knows you’ve been craving sugar all day, you have kept on texting him questions about what he planned ever since you knew about it.
“Well, I technically cannot argue with that. We both know the café is always short of pastries quicker than the rest,” he almost sighs, dramatically advocating for his savory treats to be recognized and praised as much as the sweet ones. It’s funny to see him rant like that; Seokjin is always passionate about what he does, and even if he often dramatizes everything, you know there is truth lingering in his words.
It’s stupid, a mere detail in the middle of the conversation, but it’s little things like these that lets you know your friend a bit better, and today the new little fun fact is that Seokjin is definitely a fan of savory food. He’d choose Jimin’s sandwiches any day over Hoseok’s cupcakes, as much as it breaks his heart. They can be as cute as Hoseok wants them to be, it won’t change his heart: he loves sweets, but not enough to pick it over Jimin’s heavenly sandwiches. Never happening.
Though when he looks at you, he finds himself in a terrible dilemma because if anything, you’re the sweetest person he knows and even if he’d keep it to himself, he’d pick you over anything in a heartbeat.
That’s a little secret that he’ll take with him to his grave; it’s better if no one knows about it anyway. Especially with you being out of reach for him.
“What should we start with, then?” You look at him with excitement, causing him to chuckle slightly at your energy. Sometimes, you’re as hard as Jungkook to keep up with; maybe that’s why you guys match so well.
“I took your list of our favorites from the exposition and I basically prepared a few drinks in those bottles here. We can always prepare them together as well, but I tried to save us some time, what do you say?” You almost pout in wonder, he can see the way you purse your lips, silently pondering about his words. You obviously would’ve loved to help him prepare everything, learning a few delicious recipes in the meantime, but you also really appreciate him taking such good care of you.
“Let’s already try those you prepared, then!” Your smile is sweet, he thinks. Maybe that is what draws him to take the bottles filled with colorful drinks he carefully prepared this morning. You watch him curiously as he places the smoothies in front of you, looking rather proud of himself as he opens the three bottles.
“So we have: mint, lemon, orange,” you grin at this one because this is the smoothie you’ve been the most excited about, “peach, pineapple, coconut,” this time, it’s Seokjin who grins because he already knows you’re going to like that one because it’s the most sugary between the three he made. He couldn’t help himself, he had to taste them before you tried them out (he wouldn’t tell you that, but he couldn’t let you be disappointed with something he prepared), “and the last one, raspberries and almond,“ this one will be Hoseok’s favorite. He knows it already.
“Any recommendations? Which one should I start with?” You take this situation completely serious, and Seokjin cannot help his little giggle-you’re just too endearing.
“Probably the almond one, it’s the least sweet between the three of them, we’ll finish with the peach one.” You wordlessly nod as Seokjin grabs two little glasses, carefully pours the smoothie and gives you the first glass almost automatically.
You wait for him so that you can taste it together, and he winks at you when you finally get a taste of the smoothie.
God, that’s good.
“That tastes really good though,” you acknowledge, “I was expecting it to be more bitter since you said it wasn’t sweet. The almonds do taste incredible with it, I think Taehyung would really like the texture of it!”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t sweet, I said it was the less sugary one, that’s totally different!” You chuckle at his outrage.
“I get it, I get it,” your smile refuses to leave your lips. You’re enjoying this; easy laughter with someone you enjoy spending time with outside your relationship.
You’ve never had a lot of friends, especially not since they found out you’re mated to several people-everybody thought it’s weird. On the other hand, you are surrounded by five of the most lovable and gentle humans you’ve ever met, what more would you need?
Most people always say never befriend your partner’s friends, you’ll end up alone once you break up. Make your own friends, continue living your own life.
But is it really the same if they’re not just your partner but your soulmate? You don’t think so.
It feels almost fresh not to be surrounded by a lot of people like you’re used to. It’s always very busy at the café and when you go to the parlor, it’s much quieter, but your three mates are always running everywhere. You’d think they’d be the most static ones since tattoos take time, yet instead they are always jumping from one appointment to the next while Jungkook is busy on the phone, organizing schedules or serving as the accountant of the parlor. They are always busy and a lot of people swing by just to ask questions or actually ask to get a random tattoo.
The only place you can be surrounded with silence is usually your studio. The boys don’t dare make any noise when they are invited (since it does not happen a lot) but most of the time you’re just alone, too engrossed in your work to try and seek any other distraction.
Hence, this serene atmosphere with quiet giggles and shared drinks is actually even more enjoyable than what you thought it would be. You’d never fear being bored with Seokjin, yet he always seems to catch on to your mood and acclimatize to you, knowing whether he needed to be extra energetic or rather chill.
Seokjin’s mood often mirrors the general atmosphere of the room or the people he is with, and you’re always left wondering how he does it. How can he understand how people feel that easily? It looks like a magic trick; one that you struggle to understand. Yet, here he is, smiling gently, soft in his movements and careful not to speak too loud, as if sensing that you had been nervous about coming alone to their apartment for the first time. He does it like it’s his second nature, and you ponder the meaning of his behavior. Is he just used to finding the perfect balance between his feelings and the ones of his speaker since he was working with customers on a daily basis?
Jungkook would have a few things to learn from him then, you almost snort at your thoughts.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” He catches your attention too easily, even when you’re far away in your daydreams.
“Yeah, I’m good. Should we try the next one?” He blinks at your soft smile, almost confused.
God, he needs to focus a bit more on the drinks.
“Y-Yeah, sure. Which one would you prefer first?” You look unbothered by his inner turmoil, which he is glad for. Seokjin doesn’t think that he could explain why his ears are suddenly turning pink. And to be honest, he doesn’t want to.
“Whichever you want to taste first,” he doesn’t even look at you anymore, more worried about his sudden disconnection with reality.
Seokjin doesn’t live in a world in which he can kiss you, and he has to accept it quickly.
You look at him confused when he excuses himself to the toilets, hurrying himself in his house as if his hands were somehow burning. It leaves you quiet, too uneasy to say something, but you’re quick to shrug it off and go rinse the glasses you both just used. You eye the other glasses, contemplating just using new ones, but you’d feel uncomfortable knowing that this is not your home and not your kitchen. Seokjin joked about this room being his. This is his kitchen; Hoseok himself is barely allowed there, apparently. Both of them always joke around about that, but even the decoration screams Seokjin. You snort at the thought; it’s clear that their running gag is actually pretty true, that explains why they always laugh a little bit harder than you.
You glance at the room once you’re done, curiously watching Seokjin’s sacred space. It’s funny how different and yet similar his kitchen is to the one of your apartment. He obviously arranged it differently, but somehow, it makes sense. You don’t struggle to find where things are because it’s weirdly similar to the organization of your kitchen. It makes you smile when you open a drawer and find the plates. Just like at home.
It’s almost funny really; had you not known Seokjin and Hoseok before, you would have believed that this was done on purpose, but you know better than to believe that ridiculous thought. You’re just strangely similar to the two soulmates, and the thought drags a giggle out of you. You open another drawer, expecting to find birthday supplies and a lot of stuff that you always find in the last drawer of a kitchen, surprisingly. However, you are met with Seokjin’s cooking books. It’s a wonder how all of them fit inside, they are carefully stacked in the drawer, leaving little room to add anything else. A spiral-bound book catches your eyes and you carefully remove all the books that are over it in order to grab it. Seokjin’s handwriting is easily identifiable on the cover of the notebook, and you’re impressed at Seokjin’s details and little doodles of the dishes he wrote about. Everything has been carefully done, you wonder how long it took him to write all of that. As you skim through the pages, you notice that the written recipes even have a success rate written down. You snort amused, how did he estimate those numbers? It doesn’t really surprise you from him, though; he’s a very meticulous and organized person: only Seokjin could keep a recipe notebook this clean with so may information inside it and hide it so cautiously as if someone would try to rob it. It looks like the notebook has been used many times; it makes you question about the reason why it was under almost every single cooking book he seems to own.
In the middle of the notebook, though, the recipes stop and you’re about to let the notebook go when your eyes stop on a fully written page. You frown.
It’s nothing like what was previously written: the writing is messy and disorganized, no doodles or side notes... Nothing like the rest of the notebook. It takes you aback and for a second, you think that maybe you should not read it. The notebook was in the kitchen, so technically an open space without any restriction or off-limits area but you know that this is Seokjin’s space nonetheless, so maybe you aren’t supposed to read this.
But when you can clearly read your name, it’s hard not to glance at the words on the sheet of paper. It’s dumb really, you know you shouldn’t. Your eyes widen and you close the notebook as soon as you read the paragraph involving your name because you might want to throw up if you read more. You shouldn’t have opened it, you shouldn’t have been looking at his stuff anyway. You hurry to put every book in its place and you wait for Seokjin with the two now empty and clean glasses with a somber expression. You’re almost nervous when he comes back and as much as he probably caught your sudden discomfort, he says nothing and merely moves on in an awkward atmosphere.
As you start drinking again, you hate yourself for replaying this sentence again and again in your mind because you know that this is dangerous.
I know (Y/N) is our soulmate too, I can just feel it. Hoseok might have caught it too, I think, he’s pretty observant when he wants to. But Yoongi remains a problem and I don’t think that I can overcome it. He hates me, anyway.
-------------------------------------------------
Jungkook feels weirdly restless, pacing around their house with nothing to do without annoying his boyfriends. Jimin went to practice his dancing skills with Hoseok, spending the evening in the town’s dance studio, you’re busy with Seokjin and Taehyung has busied himself with decorating the parlor. Jungkook did work for two hours this morning, but they didn’t have any other appointments, and now he really wishes he’d just say yes to accompany you to Seokjin’s.
He has cleaned the entire house already-even Namjoon’s (really messy) office room, but he doesn’t feel satisfied yet. He’s frustrated.
This week has been weirdly stressful for all of them, maybe it just feels weird for Jungkook to finally have time settling down and… do nothing? No, he can’t do that.
Ggukkie🔪☠️: bro
Ggukkie🔪☠️: wanna go to the gym with me
Yoongles🖤: dude i’m your boyfriend, don’t bro me
Yoongles🖤: and you just want me to go to the gym with you so you have someone staring at you lifting dangerous amounts of weights
Ggukkie🔪☠️: so
Yoongles🖤: i’ll be there in 20
Yoongi didn’t even need 20 minutes to arrive, it was exactly 14 minutes and 23 seconds until Jungkook’s phone rang once to signal him that he could come out.
He slides on the passenger's seat with a mischievous smirk. “You’re so predictable, hyung. We all know about your strength kink, you’d even miss your naptime to go to the gym with either of us.”
“Fuck off,” Yoongi mutters as he drives them to the gym, knowing that Jungkook was absolutely right.
But Jungkook played his unbothered role well-even though he loves seeing his hyung wearing gym clothes, the loose shorts, tight muscle shirt that has slowly getting a little too small around his shoulders and chest. His hyung is getting more and more buff since he came into the relationship feeling insecure about his body-and Jungkook loves how confident he grew with every visit to the gym.
“Why aren’t you in your gym clothes already? You always change before because you hate how disgusting the changing rooms are,” Yoongi mutters as they walk down the stairs for Jungkook to get changed. Pouting, the younger shrugs. “I was too lazy.” And I had different plans for you, hyungie.
Because once Jungkook steps out of his shoes and gets rid of his jeans, Yoongi gasps. Right there, in front of him, in the gym dressing room, there’s Jungkook-wearing black lace lingerie.
“Fuck you,” Yoongi coughs as he tries to look away, but how could he? Jungkook is right in front of him, abs and thighs on display, looking at him with those sinful eyes, the lace just gives him the rest.
The younger walks towards his hyung and smiles teasingly. “They’re so comfortable, I didn’t want to change out of them just for the gym, you know?”
He is quick to change into his gym clothes though, knowing that Yoongi will have a hard time enjoying his training now.
Yoongi doesn’t know what he has been doing the past hour, but you couldn’t really call it training. Jungkook is all he can think of-Jungkook and the goddamn lingerie.
“Hyung, could you help me reach the pull-up bar?” Jungkook smiles innocently, acting as if he couldn’t just jump the few centimeters that are missing. Yoongi grunts, knowing that he has the strength to lift Jungkook up, even though he’s just too lazy to use his muscles most of the time. Jungkook probably doesn’t even think Yoongi will really do it.
“Sure, bun,” Yoongi shrugs as he steps behind Jungkook and effortlessly lifts him up with both hands around the younger’s small waist. Jungkook grips the bar, staring down at his boyfriend. “You… I… You can…,” he stutters, seemingly forgetting about his task.
Yoongi just winks at him, seemingly unbothered. “Yup. Be careful, not anyone here might wanna see your underwear that’s showing once you lift your arms.”
Then, he finally finds the mind space to start his own workout.
Both of them are a sweaty mess once they reach the house, tension somewhat visible as they enter the bathroom. “Fuck,” Jungkook groans as he presses Yoongi against the wall, “That was so hot, babe.”
Yoongi laughs, grabbing Jungkook’s ponytail and wrapping it around his fingers. “Yeah? Got all worked up after laughing at me for having a strength kink?” He twirls them around easily, lifting Jungkook up once again, this time securing his long legs around his waist.
“Yeah,” Jungkook mutters before he finally connects their lips in a hot kiss.
Yoongi hums, tightening his hold on Jungkook’s ass as he presses him even further into the fall. “Gonna be my good buy, Ggukkie? Gonna let hyung take care of you? Wanted to have you underneath me ever since I told Taehyung how to fuck you real good."
Jungkook whines, stuck in some sort of role conflict because he’s not a sub, really. He planned to wear the lingerie to drive Yoongi crazy-he thought it’d be extremely hot to top him wearing nothing but the delicate lace. He has literally thought about pounding Yoongi’s ass for weeks now, it can’t be Jungkook now that has to do the bottom-especially since he doesn’t bottom. Ever. Even though he loved the feeling of Taehyung’s cock up his ass. Not that he’d ever tell anybody.
Yoongi’s lips dance around on the salty skin of Jungkook’s neck and it’s enough to nearly drive Jungkook crazy. He knows that Yoongi is trying to give him enough time to think about this decision, yet his thoughts are making less and less sense in his mind and all he can feel is Yoongi. “Imagine how good it feels to have someone take care of you, bun. To just let go of all the worries, not having to think about being all strong and dominant for once.” He whispers against Jungkook’s skin, enjoying the way his boyfriend already pants against his ear. Honestly more than just wanting to have the upper-hand on Jungkook, Yoongi knows how relaxing this could become for someone who is used to be in control and to control everything around him. Jungkook prepared schedules, prepares lunches, prepares dates, organize the desk and probably the whole parlor too. He is always in charge, and the older man knows damn well how exhausting it gets. Maybe Jungkook knows it too because his next words come surprisingly easily for him.
“Wanna be good for you, hyungie,” Jungkook whispers after thinking about it for a few more moments. And that’s all Yoongi needs to change into his favorite mindset to finally ruin Jungkook.
“I already know you’re going to be so good for me, bun. Let’s take a shower first, hm? Getting you all nice and clean for me to destroy,” Yoongi smirks as he helps Jungkook undress, staring at the tightness of his abs after the workout. “So strong,” he whispers and glides down in front of his youngest boyfriend, getting rid of his shorts as well so that Jungkook is wearing nothing but the lingerie again.
“Such strong thighs, wanna fuck them so badly. You’re gonna let me fuck them, right?”
Jungkook groans as he looks down through hooded eyes, seeing Yoongi kneeling in front of him like that. Yoongi’s kind of dominance is different from his own, less aggressive but still so firm and strict. It’s also caring in a way he doesn’t understand how it works, but he knows he’s in good hands and will remain safe. He can’t help but nod, the urge to satisfy is too huge. “Yes, hyung.”
Yoongi hums again, watching Jungkook squirm under his gentle fingertips. “Too bad you wore those at the gym, can’t wear them after your shower, hm? But I bet you do own a few other pairs, right? Bet you love feeling all pretty wearing those, standing in front of the mirror, admiring yourself.” And it embarrasses him slightly, because they both know that he’s right.
He slowly slides the underwear down, exposing Jungkook fully, the musky scent so strong in his nose that Yoongi growls. “So good, bun.”
Their shower is quick and messy, wet kisses are shared and Yoongi can’t stop himself from edging Jungkook as he eats his ass under the stream of water until the younger sobs in frustration. “Please, hyung,” he whines and stomps-like an actual bunny-earning a slap on his butt for that. “Stop whining,” Yoongi mutters as he plunges his tongue into Jungkook’s hole once again. The younger was insecure at first, not being as soft or smooth as he was with Taehyung, but Yoongi was quick to remind him that body hair is normal and that all of them grow body hair. It’s something he had expected with Jungkook; it doesn’t really surprise Yoongi that Jungkook overthinks his body hair even when his mind is clouded by desire. Yoongi does make a mental note to help Jungkook feel more comfortable and at ease with his own body, though.
On his side, Jungkook decides that he might enjoy getting waxed regularly-if he’s rewarded with Yoongi’s tongue deep inside his ass.
“Close,” Jungkook mutters, trying to press his body even closer to Yoongi’s face. But instead of giving into Jungkook’s pleasure, the elder just pulls away with a satisfied grin. “Get out of the shower and dry yourself off,” he orders as he casually starts washing the sweat off of his own body. Jungkook gasps, obviously trying to speak up against his hyung, but bows his head with a silent “yes, hyung” instead. Yoongi expected more reluctance, more fights for dominance but surprisingly, Jungkook is pliant, obedient like he’s never been, and the older man finds himself wondering how long this is going to take for him to snap back into the role he has a hard time letting go. He knows Jungkook is going to be a brat at some points, he just expected it to be pretty much constant.
As soon as Jungkook dries himself off, he hands his towel to Yoongi to get dry as well.
“You look so pretty hyung,” Jungkook whispers with a blush.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, trying to act cool, but the compliment quickens his heartbeat nevertheless. Obedient Jungkook is terrible for his heart, he decides. It’s really making it skip a few beats and he isn’t sure if he loves it or hates it. “Such an obedient bun, Ggukkie. Wanna go and grab your collar for hyung?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen, the feeling of the beautiful collar around his throat has been a forbidden thought ever since the night with Taehyung, yet not lost on Yoongi who caught his obsession with the jewerly. Yoongi can see the sparkles in Jungkook’s eyes as the younger one nods, biting on his bottom lip to hide his eager smile. “Yes, hyung.”
Jungkook is back even before Yoongi had the chance to get dressed, but why would he need clothes anyway? “Here, hyung,” Jungkook says as he hands Yoongi the collar, lifting his chin to allow his hyung to wrap the leather around his strong neck.
Yoongi works quickly but gently, making sure that he can easily fit a finger between the leather and Jungkook’s neck so nothing will bruise later on. He usually doesn’t mind leaving nasty marks, but a collar burning on of his mates’ neck is not in his option. He’d hate to make it too painful for Jungkook.
“Where do you want to do this, bun?” Yoongi asks, wanting to create a comfortable atmosphere for his boyfriend. After all, he’s also doing for him, for all of this pressure to finally leave his tensed shoulders.
Jungkook thinks about it, a wicked smile on his lips as he whispers “living room”, knowing that he’d die of shame if one of his other boyfriends would see him taking dick-but right now, the shame, the feeling of getting caught, that’s exactly what he needs.
“Mhh, so shameless,” Yoongi hums as he hooks one finger into the ring of Jungkook’s collar and drags him into the living room. It’s fun to have Jungkook moving from a single finger, Yoongi cannot help but chuckle darkly. “Knees,” he says as he sits down on the couch, motioning Jungkook to sit between his legs, erection right in front of his eager face.
“Gonna show me how eager you really are? Show me that you really want my cock, huh?”
Jungkook nods, trying to grab Yoongi’s dick, but the elder is quick to speak.
“No hands, bun. Put them behind your back,” he’s not rude though, guiding the pouting man in front of him towards his length, helping him slide down on it and with a teasing grin, he holds Jungkook’s head down until he can feel the younger struggle to breathe. Then, he lets go.
Jungkook coughs, spit dribbling down his chin and onto Yoongi’s cock, but the elder enjoys it slippery and wet. As soon as he knows that Jungkook’s lungs are full, he repeats the process again and again, until his boyfriend is almost crying because of the gagging and the desperate need to hump something. “Poor thing, the air isn’t giving you anything, huh?”
Yoongi teases as he sees Jungkook move his hips into nothing.
The younger whines, nodding and looks up at his boyfriend with those teary eyes. Obedient Jungkook is truly dangerous for Yoongi’s heart, he realizes with a groan. “God, fuck, okay. C’mon,” he grabs Jungkook by the hair again-absolutely loving the length, messy locks framing his face and falling down to his shoulders-, yanking him up and onto his lap. “You’re going to ride hyung, alright bun?” Jungkook nods like the eager bunny he is, already trying to sink down onto Yoongi, but he gets stopped rather quickly.
“Dumb little bunny, don’t forget the lube. Gonna lube yourself up, right? Use your fingers well, Ggukkie?” Yoongi is almost a hundred percent sure that Jungkook will shy away from this task, but the boy is far too gone to feel anything but lust right now. He nods, grabbing the lube and messily spreads it around his hole, not caring about the waste that drips down onto Yoongi’s legs.
“Look so good, baby,” he encourages the man on his lap, mesmerized by the way his strong arms move to open himself up even more. The way his inked skin is moving, veins popping up the faster Jungkook moves his hand, the whines he lets out whenever he finds the right angle. He makes sure to praise him to keep him in this headspace; Jungkook looks quite happy to be taken care off and to be told that he’s pretty. Yoongi cannot find it in himself not to allow a few more praises to slip past his lips.
“Stop before you’re coming,” warns Yoongi without any bite in his voice, obviously enjoying the show Jungkook is giving him on purpose. “I know you’re just doing this to tease me, so keep on going, but if you cum without me inside you, you won’t be getting my cock at all, bun.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen as his hand stops, precum oozing out of his slit and he stares at Yoongi. Then, his brows furrow. “I can come whenever I want, hyung.”
Of course, right fucking now Jungkook has to act up, trying to prove how strong he is. Yoongi just rolls his eyes at the weak attempt and twists Jungkook’s nipple, earning a yelp from him. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it? “Fuck.”
“Don’t act up on me now, you can pull that move on your other boyfriends. But for me right now, you’ll be an obedient little bun that listens to what I say, right?”
Jungkook presses his lips into a tight line and starts moving his fingers again, not caring about Yoongi because he’s just so close.
“Stop.” Yoongi warns him, cat-eyes glimmering dangerously, but Jungkook acts like he doesn’t hear him, speeding his movements and starting to grind against Yoongi’s thigh.
Just as his lips form into a silent scream, Yoongi grabs the base of Jungkook’s cock and presses, ruining his boyfriend’s orgasm just in time.
Jungkook is on the verge of crying, stilling his movements with shock written over his features. He’s about to protest, but Yoongi removes Jungkook’s fingers from his hole and thrusts into him mercilessly. Then, he wraps his inked hands around his throat, hissing through clenched teeth.
“If I tell you to do something, you will do it. If I tell you to stop, you’re going to fucking stop. First you act like a greedy whore, wanting my dick shoved up your ass, begging for it with tears in your eyes and then you’re deciding to disobey your hyung?”
Jungkook whines, arms wrapped around Yoongi’s neck, trying to gain more friction by moving his hips, but Yoongi holds him still. He stands up, easily lifting Jungkook with him, still seated on his dick.
“And now you’re missing any words, bun? Too bad,” he fakes sympathy as he walks towards the nearest wall with Jungkook around him. As soon as he presses Jungkook against it, he continues moving his hips, grinding into Jungkook’s prostate with each thrust.
“Tell me how sorry you are Gguk, hm? Maybe I’ll be nice with you.”
“Koo’s sorry, Koo will listen,” Jungkook cries, his ruined orgasm and the intense amount of pleasure combined with Yoongi fucking him against a wall being too much for him. He can’t stop the noises that spill out of his mouth, tongue loose and eyes unfocused. He isn’t thinking anymore; he’s merely uttering the first thing that he can.
“Hmm, Koo better be sorry. But you’re going to be a good bun now, right?”
Yoongi shoves three fingers into Jungkook’s mouth, enjoying the way his throat constricts about them, spit running down his wrist. Jungkook blabbers around his fingers, not being able to form any words, but that’s exactly what Yoongi wanted.
Yet, they’re so focused on each other, that they don’t hear the door opening.
“I hope that movie is available on Netflix, I’ve been waiting months to watch it. You can already go into the living room, hyung. I’ll just drop off my bag in the laundry room,” Jimin announces to Hoseok as they come home from dancing-obviously meeting up to watch a movie together.
In the living room.
Where Jungkook and Yoongi celebrate the fuckfest of their lives. Of course.
“Alright, Minnie,” Hoseok chirps as happily as always as he steps into the living room.
“Huh?” He says as he hears the weird noise. Until he sees Jungkook and Yoongi.
“Shit. Fuck. I-. You-. And how…,” he is at a loss for words, searching for them but his brain goes blank at the sight of Yoongi’s slim, inked back, Jungkook’s legs wrapped around his slim waist and the soft flesh of his ass.
Yoongi is fucking Jungkook. Against a wall. In their living room.
The scene is definitely not processed in Hoseok’s mind.
“Hyung, is everything alright? You can start the TV already if you want to! Oh-,” Jimin grows quiet as he sees Hoseok standing there, staring at the couple. “Oh!”
It’s only then that Jungkook seems to realize what’s really happening, trying to bite on Yoongi’s fingers that are still pressing onto his tongue. He did enjoy playing with fire, on the verge of getting caught, but he doesn’t really appreciate it happening for real, especially not by Hoseok.
“Ouch! Fucking brat,” Yoongi hisses but removes his fingers nevertheless, a thick string of saliva still connecting them to Jungkook’s lips. And then, he realizes, too. “Fuck!”
They all just stare at each other, confused and exposed. Maybe a bit angry too, because this is Jungkook’s second ruined orgasm of the day. But Yoongi doesn’t pull out, he’s frozen. Actually no, his priority is to get Jungkook safe. He was deep into his headspace, Yoongi is responsible for him and his safety, he needs to move quickly.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers at the same time Jimin does so.
“Hyung you fucked Jungkook? And none of us was allowed to watch? That’s so rude!” Jimin stomps and crosses his arms in front of his chest, not realizing how strange this situation is. It’s something that he’s used to. Coming back to his mates fucking, it’s nothing out of his norms by now. However, he seems to forget about Hoseok for a brief second.
“I-,” Hoseok stutters as he glances at the complete mess that Jungkook is. He’s wearing a fucking collar, his precious little Jungkookie. Obviously, Hoseok knows more about their sex life than he really wanted to, but this is different. It’s Yoongi.
The man he shared his first kiss with, the man he knows was in love with him.
They could’ve been a thing if Hoseok didn’t meet Seokjin shortly before he turned eighteen.
And he is happy for Yoongi, he really is. Still, his heart aches weirdly as he interrupts the couple being intimate as they are right now.
It feels wrong to be here, it feels wrong to see them, but what feels worse is that he unknowingly grew a boner that he can’t hide in his sweatpants. God, he really does not want to linger on the thought that he’d die to be either in Jungkook’s position or in Yoongi’s one. Why the hell would he think about that? He shouldn’t. He has no right to.
“Hobi-hyung,” Jungkook whispers, hiding his delicate frame behind Yoongi, only his eyes visible behind Yoongi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen something like that.”
Yoongi huffs, trying to protect Jungkook in such a vulnerable situation. “This is our house, bun. We are allowed to fuck in any room, Jimin could’ve told us-”
“He’s right, Jungkook. I’m sorry I interrupted, I actually have to go anyway. Sorry, continue? I mean, if you’re still… Ugh, sorry,” then Hoseok bids his goodbyes and practically runs out of the door, leaving the room quiet and somewhat cramped.
It frustrates Yoongi to no end. He wraps Jungkook in his arms, leaving Jimin behind without a single world because for now, he has a boy to protect. He needs to make sure that Jungkook is alright before he thinks about what the hell just happened and how disgusted Hoseok seemed to be when he saw his body. The skinny, lanky limbs. Maybe he even has buttne? Does he have back hair?
Hoseok is used to Seokjin's tall, broad frame-nothing of those Yoongi has.
Concentrate Yoongi, you’ll cry later.
“You good bun?” He feels the younger tremble in his arms and it worries him.
“I… I don’t know,” Jungkook avoids eye contact as much as he can. Yet, Yoongi is a stubborn man, he’ll get him to open his eyes soon enough.
“Bun, look at me, Jungkook. You did nothing wrong, okay? We didn’t do anything that was wrong. We are in the privacy of our home, usually we text each other when we bring someone else to the apartment, Jimin should have sent a text.” Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t open his eyes nonetheless.
“Look at me, pretty boy,” Jungkook does not comply, so Yoongi hugs him close instead, “you took everything really well; you actually let me take over, I know it’s hard for you, I’m quite surprised at how obedient you were. I’m sorry it ended up like that though, I wish I could have made it more pleasurable, but we kinda were interrupted, yeah?”
Jungkook almost chuckles against Yoongi’s skin, the latter can feel his lips stretching into a smile at least. “Did you like it, though?” He feels Jungkook’s head nodding in the crook of his neck and as much as Yoongi relishes in the feeling of the younger man behind so close to him without picking a fight, he needs more than just a nod to make sure that he is alright.
“I need words, bun.”
A groan is his sole answer before Jungkook finally stops hiding and peeks at Yoongi.
“Yeah, I liked it.” The discomfort Jungkook feels when admitting it aloud is clear on his features, and it makes Yoongi smile softly. Jungkook is a prideful man, not being in charge is delicate for him. As the youngest (before you arrived), he has always felt the need to prove that he wasn’t a baby and that he could handle a lot, even more than his hyungs.
It’s something he has trouble letting go, but maybe one day he’ll get there, Yoongi is sure of it.
“Yeah? Next time, I’ll make sure you come, bun.” Jungkook snorts and lightly punches Yoongi’s shoulder, and the older one just lets him do it without complaining. Maybe he lets out a groan and mumbles that he did not deserve that, but if he had to be honest, Jungkook’s body tackling him into the bed to cuddle him and trap him as close to him as he could really makes Yoongi soft.
“I’d like that. I love you, hyungie."
Yoongi barely hears it; not that Jungkook didn’t want him to, but the younger one was just falling asleep in his arms and it apparently just slipped from his lips with his consciousness as well. Smiling, Yoongi pulls the sheets higher on Jungkook’s body, making sure his boyfriend won’t be cold in the middle of his well-deserved nap.
He brushes a few strands of hair from his forehead before sending a message to Jimin.
“Hyung? Do you need anything?” Startled, Yoongi turns around to see Jimin at the door.
“How the hell did you come this quickly? I barely pressed send.”
Jimin chuckles at Yoongi’s confusion.
“I was hoping you’d call me to join but I see that you’re already done,” he pouts, “you could have waited for me to be home.”
“You were with Hobi anyway. Jimin, next time please, send a message. You know I always check before-”
“I know, I’m sorry, I’m spent from practice, it just slipped my mind.” He sighs almost uncomfortably.
“Can you watch over Jungkook? I need to talk to Hoseok or it’s going to be weird for a while, which I don’t want to happen. But I also cannot let Jungkook wake up alone, can you do that for me?” He almost pleads and Jimin just smiles softly.
“Of course I can, Hyung. Though I tried messaging Hobi-hyung to apologize but he didn’t reply to my message, the bastard left me on read,” the glint of disappointment in Jimin’s eyes surprises Yoongi, but at the same time, he has no reason for his confusion.
Jimin and Hoseok are close friends. Ever since Jimin started working at the café, they’ve been hanging out a lot, sharing dance sessions and watching movies together because no other of his boyfriends share Jimin's love for musical movies.
“I’ll figure it out, I’ll try to contact him. Take care of Gguk, okay? Don’t tease him, please. It was hard enough to get him in a good headspace without him fighting back-”
“Stop worrying so much, I won’t press his buttons. I’ll let him rest anyway, he’s had a lot of work recently. You all did, to be fair, we barely saw you this week.” Jimin’s tone is disapproving, but the three of them have tried their hardest to come home not too late and to spend time with the rest of their soulmates. It just has just been difficult.
“I know, I know. I’ll tell Jungkook to slow down on the schedule, we’ll try to rest a bit more once we’re done with this hell of a week.” Jimin chuckles at Yoongi’s words, “anyway, I’ll be back soon, I hope. Take the opportunity to rest as well, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you took one more shift too.”
Jimin looks away instantly, while Yoongi chuckles. They all caught on Jimin’s new shift, but none of them said anything about it. They all know why Jimin works harder than usual.
He’s the most adamant one on getting a new place for them to live with Yoongi. And he always wants the best for his mates, the most luxury bathrooms, huge bedrooms-even if it costs more than they could afford for now, he will work for it.
It’s also kind of why Jungkook and Taehyung have been adding more clients into their schedule as well, working longer than the studio hours, just to earn more money.
You’ve been working a lot as well recently, selling more and more paintings but not spending too much money even though you should treat yourself once in a while.
Only Namjoon stayed true to his schedule, but it’s solely because his schedule is never peaceful anyway. None of them can remember the last time that Namjoon took a break. During school vacation, he’s usually at seminars.
They all hate it, but for once, it allows them to dive into work with less guilt than they would have if Namjoon had been the only one left at home alone. At least, they’re all busy.
Though, Yoongi has other things to worry about: like Hoseok not answering his calls. Fuck. He knows it’s self-destructive, but he cannot help and replay Hoseok’s disgusted expression as he caught him with Jungkook. He tried his best to tell himself that they didn’t do anything wrong; he did tell Jungkook that they had not done anything wrong. However, it feels like he’s been caught cheating or something when Hoseok is not even his boyfriend. He doesn’t know if this makes him ache for Hoseok or feel like he’s betraying his soulmates with his thoughts.
Yoongi hates feeling that way. He doesn’t want to emotionally cheat on his partners; he loves every single one of them so fucking much that it hurts to even think that he might be emotionally cheating on them.
No. No, he has to stop panicking so much. He loves them, dearly, and he wouldn’t leave them for anyone else. He just needs to talk it out with Hoseok so that their relationship doesn’t turn super weird, at least for Jimin’s sake.
Hoseok never picks up but at least he sends a message:
Stop calling, Yoongi.
What does he mean, stop calling? Yoongi needs to talk with him, even just for five minutes. So he pleads for Hoseok to give him just 10 minutes of his precious time; Yoongi doesn’t need more, he probably won't even be able to speak more or he’ll actually throw up. He cannot help but think that Hoseok’s look of disgust was directed at his body or at his behavior. Surely, he was expecting for Yoongi to be a considerate lover, not someone mindlessly fucking the youngest boy of their friend group like a whore.
Is Yoongi really this disgusting? Did he pressure Jungkook into a submissive role?
God, Hoseok must think he’s a disgusting pervert, now. Great. It couldn’t have been worse. He wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok did not answer him and just refused to talk to him again. However, to Yoongi’s surprise, Hoseok accepts, telling him to join him at the café because there is no one there. The café closed a few hours ago; he closed it with Jimin before heading to the dance studio. Yoongi has never been this quick to reach the café. Even on the opening day of the parlor, he had almost been late. A bad habit of his that his soulmates have just accepted. Yoongi has flaws, too many for his liking, but his soulmates keep on telling him that they love him this way.
It’s still surreal to him, but for now, he has to face his reality. Hoseok, with a livid and pale face.
“What do you want, hyung?” His voice is almost empty and Yoongi hates it. He’d rather see Hoseok screaming for the first time than to see him this empty, almost like a shell of himself.
“Hoseok, look, I’m sorry, we should have been more considerate, I understand if what you saw shocked you,“ even to Yoongi, it sounds dramatic, Hoseok just caught them having sex.
There is nothing terrible there, they all have sex, Hoseok probably gets plenty with Seokjin, but Yoongi cannot help it, he feels the need to explain himself, “I don’t want to jeopardize your relationship with Jimin, or even with Jungkook. I know you love the kids, so I’m fucking sorry if this disturbed you, and I get it truly, if you never want to speak with me again, I’d get it-”
“No, Yoongi, shut up. You never get anything, do you? Fucking idiot."
Yoongi freezes in his tracks, unable to answer. Hoseok doesn’t even sound angry, yet the harshness of his words takes him aback.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like a deer caught in the headlights.” Yoongi doesn’t know what to say; he never does when it comes to Hoseok. “Fuck, Yoongi, do you need me to spell it for you or what? Me? Wishing to never speak to you again? What’s wrong with you to even think that?”
Yoongi’s eyes widen at these words, but Hoseok doesn’t stop there, “you keep on saying that you don’t want to jeopardize my relationship with Jimin and Jungkook, but I am the one who doesn’t want to ruin everything for you.”
Either Hoseok’s words make no sense, or they are definitely not thinking about the same thing. Oh. Oh, no, they aren’t, there is no way Hoseok is telling him that he has the same thoughts as Yoongi, nope. Not possible. It will never happen, he has to stop trying so hard to live in his fantasies.
“Look, Hoseok, I don’t think we’re speaking about the same thing-”
“Yoongi, Goddammit, when will you understand that I’m fucking in love with you and that I cannot tell you because you fucking ran away from me that day when we kissed and now I have a soulmate, and you have soulmates that love you, and I fucking love them too, so I refuse to hurt any of them!”
“What?” God, this has to be the lamest thing he ever replied.
“What do you mean? Why did you run away when we kissed back then? You hurt me, Yoongi, you really did!”
Yoongi tried to think about an answer, anything that wouldn’t scream at Hoseok that he was a coward.
“I was afraid we wouldn’t be soulmates once I’d be 18.” Hoseok’s expression falls even more, and Yoongi just realizes a second too late that he admitted that he had been a coward.
“You…” Hoseok blinks a few times, anger and confusion mixing in his glistening eyes. Yoongi is about to get closer because, fuck, Hoseok is about to cry.
His hope is about to shatter.
“You fucking asshole!” Hoseok yells, much to Yoongi’s surprise. The younger man comes at him and pushes him back. Yoongi doesn’t know what to do; Hoseok has never been like that with him.
“You ran away from me, from us, for what? Because you were fucking scared?” He really wants to say that this is a misunderstanding and that he’s wrong, but he can’t. He can’t because this is exactly what happened, so instead he lets his eyes trail on the ground, not meeting Hoseok’s fury.
“Answer me, Yoongi!”
“Yeah, I was fucking scared, okay? And I had reasons to be because you never tried to come to me afterward! You didn’t send a message, didn’t call, didn’t come to my place, you had a lot of ways to come to me too, but you didn’t! No, instead you found another man, the whole school was talking about how you two were, and surprise! He was actually your mate!” Maybe Yoongi had not been the easiest one to understand, but Hoseok had been fucking confusing too.
“What else was I supposed to think? You ran away after kissing me and didn’t try to contact me either! What else was I supposed to do? Wait until I see you with someone else?”
“Don’t put the blame on me when you fucked up too! How was I supposed to know that you wanted me when we drunk-kissed and a few days later you were in a relationship with another guy I didn’t know existed!” Hoseok’s anger doesn’t seem to have an end because he grabs Yoongi’s collar to pull him closer, as if worried that his voice wouldn’t get through him if he was too far away.
“It wasn’t a few days after, it was a whole month after Yoongi! You had a whole fucking month to confess if you loved me!”
“Well, I fucking loved you and everyone knew about! Everyone looked at me with pity when you started going out with Seokjin, and they all kept on saying that I had been rejected!”
“Fuck what everyone said! Shit, Yoongi, you used to say that you didn’t care, why did you then?”
“Because it was about you! Don’t you see that I’m head over heels for you and I always worry about what people are gonna say? I say that I don’t care but I do, I fucking do, okay? I hid the fact that Y/N is my mate because I was still dumbly in love with you! Jungkook and Taehyung didn't want to accept our bond because they knew what I felt, even after we mated. There has always been a part of me that was only for you! I’m sorry to disappoint, I’m not nearly as strong as I pretend to-”
Maybe anger is clouding both of their judgments. Hoseok desperately wants to prove to Yoongi that he means something to him, and Yoongi’s facade is crumbling the more he speaks. So when Hoseok kisses him, he kisses back. Desperate, and for once, letting his love for Hoseok free, letting his heart guide his body.
And what happened was what neither of them ever dared thinking about.
The bond instantly reacted.
And weirdly enough, after a decade of waiting for Hoseok, Yoongi immediately regrets it.
Warnings: (past) minor child abandonment, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral (female), yoongi can’t start fires, minor depictions of violence (someone gets kicked once), marking? kinda? yoongi lowkey has a consent kink, he says she belongs to him but he also says he belongs to her is that a kink? idk, a title kink? he likes when she calls him her king, pussy spanking, degradation/humiliation, name calling, cumplay ig? teasing, begging, one (1) titty slap, teasing, impregnation kink
Word Count: 16k+
Summary: Yoongi didn't plan to collide with you on that fateful day, but it's not long before you consume is every thought. As a palace maid, you weren't destined for greatness, but he seems to think otherwise.
↳ or, Yoongi wants to make you his queen
A/N: so this was supposed to be shameless pwp based on daechwita, but obviously that didn’t happen sldjfsldkj. this is the longest fic i’ve written to date, and it’s my baby so i hope you guys like it and give me feedback. i’ve honestly had so many people read this that i can’t remember all of them and i hope none of you take offense to that i just have the memory of a goldfish. BUT shoutout to @luffles424 for always encouraging me and supporting my ideas bc i really don’t think i would have finished this without you, and @wwilloww and @ot7always for catching all my mistakes (there were a lot of them) so that i didn’t have to go back and read all 16k
Vocab:
Sangtugwan - the little crown thing on their tiny man bun
Daenggi - the ribbon/tie hybrid that women used to put up their hair
Jeogori - the top piece of the hanbok
Goreum - the tie that holds the front of the jeogori closed
Sillok - historical records
Donggot - the hair pin that goes through the sangtugwan
Hyung - an older brother
Appa - dad
Your entry to the palace had been uneventful. Your father’s wife had sent you away to the palace to work as a maid. Whether the reason was because he loved your mother more than he loved his wife, or because he favored his illegitimate child over any of his other children, you weren’t sure. Perhaps it was both.
Catching the King’s eye had been a stroke of luck. You weren’t as pretty as his concubines, nor were you talented or skilled enough to garner his attention. You were a simple palace maid through and through with little knowledge of the outside world.
Having ascended to the throne at a young age, he was forced to grow up too quickly, having to learn the hard way who he could and couldn’t trust in order to protect himself and his younger brother, the only person who was an exception to his otherwise cold and uncaring nature.
Sweat beads on your brow as the summer sun bears down on you. Normally you spend your days cleaning the Royal Archives, but your friend Eunji had asked you to switch with her today so that she could watch the King’s younger brother who frequently spends his afternoons reading there. Had you known this would be one of the hottest days so far, you would’ve said no to her.
There is no denying that Prince Jungkook is handsome, but there are rules and regulations. Court ladies are not permitted to get married, and they certainly aren’t allowed to spend their days pining after the King’s younger brother. Still, as long as Eunji never acted on her infatuation, you saw no harm in letting her look.
You begin taking down the linens that had been hung up to dry earlier, folding them and placing them in the basket at your feet. A cool breeze blows through the palace causing your skirt to shift, and the goreum of your jeogori to flap slightly. When all the linens have been neatly folded and placed in the basket, you begin your trek back towards the maids’ living quarters.
Occupied by your thoughts, you fail to notice the man turning the corner before it’s too late. The sheets fall to the floor as you collide, muttering apologies as you bow to him. You look up when you hear no response and, had you not already bumped into him, meeting his eyes would have been a grave crime on its own.
Immediately you fall to your knees, and prostrate yourself before the King who, dressed in all his splendor, has you nearly shaking in your place. “Your Majesty! I beg your forgiveness!” You rub your hands together pleadingly. You can feel dozens of eyes on your form, but the King’s eyes seem to burn into you, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise.
“Stand up. What’s your name?” His voice is smooth like honey and despite the rumors that he is small in stature, he seems to tower above you.
“Song Y/N. Your Majesty.” Your voice quivers as you address him, hurriedly adding his title on to the end of your sentence. You keep your eyes trained on the wood floor, praying to the heavens that it might open up and swallow you whole.
His fingers, calloused from years of training with swords, grasp at your chin forcefully, but not without tenderness, almost as if he’s afraid he might break you. “Look at me.”
Hesitantly, you raise your eyes to meet his own. They trace the planes of his cheekbones and the delicate outline of his lips before settling on his eyes. You feel as if you are laid bare before him, his eyes cold and calculating as he takes you in.
Your eyes are drawn to the scar on his right eye, an result of an attempt on his life early in his reign. It was the only time he’d ever ordered for a public execution despite the various revolts against the throne since then.
“How long since you came to the palace?” he asks, the fingers that had been holding your chin now brushing across your cheek, leaving searing heat in their wake.
“Since I was a c-child, your Majesty.”
“How have I never seen you?” Perhaps if you knew him better, you would be able to decipher the look on his face before his eyes turn to steel again.
“I often clean the Royal Archives.” He was wrong. He had seen you plenty of times before but he’d never looked at you. Why would he when you were nothing more than a palace maid? If he remembers seeing you now, he makes no indication of it.
Later that night, a eunuch comes to the maids’ chambers, calling on you on behalf of the King. As you exit the room you can hear your peers mutter amongst themselves, likely wondering if you would return later that night. Or at all, really. You were no stranger to the harsh rumors that travel the palace grounds.
You have to hold your hands to keep them from shaking as you approach the King’s private quarters, wondering if perhaps this was the last night of your life. The rational part of you knows that if he wanted your head, he would have taken it earlier, but it does little to assuage your fears.
Rumors quickly spread about the king’s unusual infatuation with a palace maid, but whether he knew of them you were unsure. He told you right from the beginning that you were to address him by name in private, something that you are still getting used to.
The two of you would rarely speak to each other as he would often be working with official documents, but he always had food and drink on his table. Though, you hadn’t dared try anything until he’d taken the first bite.
Having been sent to the palace at such a young age, you were untrained in the activities ladies were supposed to know. While many girls of noble birth learned to dance, recite poetry, do embroidery, or serve tea, you had learned none of those things. Yoongi didn’t seem to care, though. When you asked him why he enjoyed your company despite being unable to accomplish such tasks, he’d simply said that it was because you were refreshing.
If he finished his duties before it was time to retire for the night, he would read you poems or stories from the West. He didn’t trust you yet, but you can see his barriers falling bit by bit. You can see it in the way he tells you about his relationship with his brother, and when he tells you about what happened during his day. You noticed he visited the Royal Archives more frequently these days, though he always avoided your gaze.
A fortnight later, he summons you to his room for the fifth time. You are still afraid of him—only a fool would be fearless—but you are more at ease in his presence now, your shoulders not as tense as the once were in his company.
So lost in your thoughts, you realize that you have already made the journey from the room you shared with the other maids to his own private chambers. His eunuch stops in front of the doors, clearing his throat.
“Miss Song Y/N, Your Majesty.”
The maids that linger outside his room open the doors for you at the king’s invitation, closing them behind you as you enter. Even after being here several times prior, the room’s beauty is still overwhelming compared to both your own living quarters and what you remember of your childhood home.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” you bow politely.
“Did I not tell you to call me Yoongi?” His voice, while reprimanding, is gentle as he addresses you, looking up from the scroll in his hands.
“A-apologies, Yoongi.” You say his name softly, failing to keep your voice from wavering slightly.
The King gives a simple nod of acknowledgment before gesturing to the seat beside him, pouring wine into a cup for each of you. “Let’s drink tonight.” There are signs of weariness on his face, dark circles lining his eyes. He looks as if he’s lost weight since a fortnight ago, cheeks appearing slimmer than when you saw him last.
When he puts down the paper in his hands, you read the word “uprising” and are overcome with sympathy for the man before you. Despite the good he’s done for the country and its people, there are still people who believe he ascended to the throne too soon and they all too often caused problems for him.
Silently, you sit down next to him and accept the drink. Yoongi never says anything about how stiff you are around him, and he doesn’t make any unwanted advances on you, only ever interested in your company and your thoughts.
A few nights ago he had asked your opinion on the affairs of the kingdom. When you told him you were neither informed enough on the state of the kingdom nor educated enough to know what to say, he simply asked again, saying your level of education didn’t matter. You were his subject no matter your social standing. It was the reason that despite the uprisings, he rarely investigated despite being informed of them. Uprisings are the result of people who feel like their voices are not heard; of citizens who feel the government has wronged them in one way or another. No one deserves to die for trying to make their voice heard. If no one was accused of treason, no one would have to die. The only people he executed were those who were brought before him with incriminating evidence proving them guilty of treason.
“What’s wrong?” The words leave your lips before you have time to stop them. Briefly, a look of surprise flits across his face before his mask of indifference reappears.
“Nothing unusual,” he says self-deprecatingly as he pours both of you another drink. “Just some rebels causing trouble.”
You watch the way he raises the cup to his lips, admiring his elegant facial features, watching the way his eyelids flutter shut as he takes a sip of the alcohol. When he opens his eyes, they meet your own almost as if they are searching for something. Your eyes dart towards the painting behind him, avoiding the way they linger on your flushed face. You distract yourself by playing with the sleeves of your jeogori and refill your cup before drinking it all at once.
At some point during the night, you fall asleep with your head resting on your folded arms, watching as Yoongi draws something, though what, you aren’t sure. You’re only roused from your sleep when you feel strong arms wrap around you, lifting you from where you sit on the chair.
“What time is it?” you mumble as you raise a hand to rub at your eye.
“Late,” is the only thing he says as he lays you down in his bed. With the alcohol in your system and the exhaustion lulling you back to sleep, you can do little more than grab at his sleeve as he moves to leave.
Yoongi fails to mask his shocked expression on his face, but he sits next to you on the bed anyways. After a long day of working and then drinking with him, your hair has fallen out of place and he brushes it away from your face gently, the rough fingers tickling your cheek.
You fall asleep like that; with him tracing light circles into the back of your hand.
That night becomes a turning point in your relationship with the king. When you woke up the following morning, his eunuch—you’d learned his name was Jihoon—was setting out an extravagant breakfast. To his surprise, you’d told him that you would prefer to have rice and a bowl of stew. You also declined the hairpin left behind for you by the king.
Yoongi had asked you why you’d rejected his gift later that night when he called you back. After explaining that you didn’t want expensive or exotic things from overseas, something in him shifted. The king, who had a reputation for being cold and disinterested in just about everything, seemed less weighed down by politics in your presence and more sociable.
Months later, Yoongi enters your private quarters—one of his many gifts despite your objections. Despite being closer now, he still takes your breath away when you see him, though no longer out of fear. Dressed in the finest silks in all of Joseon, the black and gold robes make him appear untouchable, but the gummy smile he sends your way does little to deter you from snorting at him when he pulls a box from behind his back.
“What is it now?”
“You know, most women would think it a privilege to receive a gift from me,” he says, nonchalantly.
You smile saccharinely at him as he rolls his eyes. “What do I have the honor of receiving from you, Your Majesty?”
“Very funny,” he sits on your bed and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you towards him. Knowing that there’s no fighting him when he wants something, you resign yourself to whatever it is he wants, resting your hands in your lap as you turn your back to him, sitting across his legs..
With careful hands, Yoongi undoes the cloth daenggi that holds up your hair, folding it gently and setting it in your hands. Then, opening the small wooden box resting next to you, he pulls out a silk daenggi. The silk shimmers in the light of your room, the delicately embroidered flowers contrasting elegantly with the vibrant red of the fabric.
The king struggles briefly, unfamiliar with how to tie the strip of fabric to the end of your braid. However, it’s not long before he sits back to admire his work. “I think I did pretty well.”
Reaching behind you you bring your braid around to the front and inspect his handiwork. Despite being a little uneven and loose, it’s not bad considering Yoongi hardly ever dresses himself, let alone another person.
“I’m impressed,” you muse to yourself, turning it over in your hands, the old daenggi placed in the wooden box.
Silence fills the room but unlike several months ago, it’s not suffocating. With Yoongi’s arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, you close your eyes. You can feel his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck and a pleasant shiver runs down your spine as fingers mindlessly trace up and down your arm.
It’s no secret that as the reigning king, he has a number of concubines—many who send hateful looks your way these days—and thus has plenty of experience. He’s no different from any other man who has physical desires. You can tell by the way he kisses you like he wants to savor you and devour you at the same time. You can tell by the way his hands caress your sides or how he brushes his knuckles over your cheek. You can tell by the way he looks at you like he wants to throw you on the bed and make you scream his name until you’re hoarse. Despite his obvious desire to bed you though, he has made no move to do so and you aren’t sure whether to be thankful or offended.
“It’s getting late.” You reach up to thread your fingers through his hair gently. “You should go back and get some sleep.”
You can see a lingering question in his eyes as he gets up to leave, and you find your heart sinking when he exits without asking it.
When Eunji appears in the Royal Archives giggling the next morning, you know you’re in trouble. You aren’t sure how she did it, but she managed to get the head lady to assign her to the archives not long after the first night Yoongi summoned you to his room.
“A little bunny told me you got another gift from the king,” you feel her pat you on the back approvingly, briefly brushing her fingers over the daenggi.
“Did you finally tell Prince Jungkook that you like him?” You roll your eyes at her nickname for the prince. After months of pining after the shy younger brother of the king, the boy finally said hello to Eunji, something that had her grinning from ear to ear for the remainder of the week.
“What if he doesn’t like me back,” your best friend exclaims, throwing her arms up.
You laugh. “If he says he doesn’t like you, then he’s a fool and a liar. He follows you around in the Archives like a lost puppy.” You see it when he pretends to be studying only for his eyes to flit towards your friend and the way he always makes sure to greet her when he comes in despite being well above either of your station.
You can’t help but wonder if Yoongi looks at you the same way when you aren’t looking, or if he thinks about you during the day the same way your mind often drifts towards thoughts of him. It’s foolish to hope that he might, but you find that you’ve been acting like a fool as of late.
The sound of footsteps approaching pulls you from your thoughts.
“Y/N, His Highness is looking for the sillok from King Sejeong’s reign, but I don’t know where they are,” Eunji says, gesturing to Jungkook who stands slightly behind her with his head bowed in a rather un-princelike manner. While they may be brothers born from the same womb, the two of them could not be any more different.
Where Yoongi appeared cold and calculating and always gave off an air of confidence, Jungkook is much less cut out for the noble life. The boy is shy and would much rather spend his days doing combat training for hours on end instead of studying scriptures and Confucianism.
“I told you to remember where things are,” you say through your teeth as you smile at the prince.
“I know, I promise I’ll memorize it soon!” she pleads with you, but it’s not as though you can reject a request from a member of the royal family.
“Follow me, Your Highness. They’re right this way.”
After showing Jungkook to the records, you begin your work reshelving the books he had previously looked at, rolling your eyes at the way Eunji stares, slack jawed at him.
The afternoon goes by quickly, as you help Jungkook find the things that Eunji can’t, and clean up after the scholars leave their materials strewn about. Before long, the setting sun casts long shadows, a sign reminding you that after dinner you might finally have a chance to see Yoongi. That thought has you rushing to finish reorganizing the shelves.
By the time you return to your room, Jihoon, is standing outside waiting for you. “His Majesty requests your company this evening, Miss Y/N.”
Silently, the two of you make your way across the palace grounds to Yoongi’s chambers. Despite seeing him frequently and being friendly with the eunuch, he barely spares you a second glance.
The night is cold, a strong wind blowing through the palace. Trees stir and your skirt rustles as your shoes clack across the stone paths. The night sky is filled with stars, something you remember your father telling you about when you were a child—about pictures in the sky.
Jihoon announces your arrival when you reach the doors to Yoongi’s room before you walk in. Upon hearing a crash, you rush into the room only to be greeted with the sight of a man that looks like the king, but with hair so blond, it looks almost silver in the dim lighting. There’s a bowl on the ground—likely the source of the crashing noise—with dark black liquid spilling out of it.
There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher before he’s turning away from you. “Don’t look at me.” Despite the harsh words, his voice wavers when he speaks.
“I won’t look,” you reassure him, turning around.
When he’s sure you won’t look back at him, he goes back to what he was doing before you barged in. When he finally tells you you can look again, the blond hair seems to glow, contrasting with his warm skin and dark eyes. There’s still a black puddle on the floor, but he pays no mind to it, only looking at you.
“You aren’t scared.” Though it’s posed as a statement, there’s uncertainty in his eyes.
You cross the room to stand in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes. “You’ve never given me any reason to fear you,” you say, matter-of-factly. You can see the way his shoulders drop in relief at your words, and the knowledge that he feels the need to hide something like this out of fear sends a pang through your heart, the need to comfort him overwhelming.
You wrap your arms around his torso, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The only people who know are my brother and Jihoon,” he says before adding, “and my parents, though they’re dead,” he chuckles. One of his hands rests on the small of your back while the other reaches up to gently stroke your head. “My parents dyed it the moment they knew it wasn’t black, though I never questioned why at the time. Now that I’ve grown up, I understand that people would probably call me a demon, or someone cursed by the gods. If something were to happen where I can’t protect Jungkook anymore…”
He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand. With half of the officials already hating him, he doesn’t need to give them any more reasons to think he’s unfit for the throne. It hurts you to know that people wouldn’t accept him like this.
“I like it,” you say before you have time to think about it. Yoongi holds you at arms-length, searching your face for any hint of a lie. When he finds none, he smiles. It’s something that you wish you could see more of.
“Thank you, Y/N. I mean it.”
You reach up and pat him on the head. “Now let me go so that I can clean up the mess you made,” you grin, trying to uplift the mood.
“You don’t have to,” he says, frowning as you turn away from him.
“I’m a maid, Yoongi. It’s what I do.” You laugh when he sits on the bed with a grimace. “If you let me do this, I’ll help you dye your hair again. If it’s okay with you, that is.”
“Usually Jungkook’s the one who does it, but it seems like he won’t be coming tonight,” the king scoffs. “Something about a girl, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Eunji finally sunk her claws into him,” you mutter to yourself before looking up and seeing the way Yoongi looks at you in shock. “Metaphorically! She’s nice, I promise.” She’d better be, there’s nothing the king wouldn’t do to protect his younger brother.
When the black liquid—hair dye, as you now know—is finally cleaned off the floor, Yoongi helps you prepare another batch. He sits in the chair as you stand behind him, massaging it into his hair, watching as the black dye seeps into the blond strands. The king hums contentedly as he lets you work, and you’re grateful that he trusts you enough to let his guard down like this.
You spend that evening helping him dye his hair again, and you’re a bit sad that the blond was so short lived. After the blond locks have been sufficiently doused in black dye, you make your departure for the night, leaving him to rinse his hair on his own despite his protests for you to stay.
You’re unsurprised to find Eunji waiting for you in your room, wanting to hear about the most recent development in your relationship with the king. It’s only when you enter your chambers and see the Cheshire grin on her face that you realize you yourself had a smile plastered across your face.
“Something good happened,” your best friend says and at her knowing look, you feel heat rise to your cheeks.
You try to brush it off, telling her it was nothing, but you should have known better than to think she would leave you alone. Still, you don’t feel right telling her that Yoongi’s hair is naturally blond, something that only two other people know. Not that you don’t trust Eunji, but Yoongi trusts you, and you don’t intend to take it for granted.
“We just did some trust exercises.” It comes out as more of a question, but she doesn’t say anything about it, simply nodding for you to continue. “We talked about his childhood,” you add on, rolling your eyes.
Eunji keeps you up into the early hours of the morning, but you don’t mind. It reminds you of simpler times when the two of you had entered the palace, just two girls against the world.
The next time you see Yoongi is a week later. Word of another uprising had reached the palace earlier in the week, and he had to settle the rebels, something that—despite having done so on several previous occasions—leaves the man stressed and exhausted both emotionally and physically.
When you enter his chambers, the king is sat in his bed, hunched over the small table in front of him. Stray hairs have fallen down around his face, the black strands casting shadows on the scar that runs across his eye. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, you find yourself wishing he could get a break from his kingly duties, but you suppose that’s a bit much to ask for the ruler of an entire Kingdom.
Carefully, you remove the sangtugwan from his top knot, placing the round metal accessory on the table beside him. Yoongi’s hands reach up to let his hair down, the black strands framing his face beautifully. After seeing him with his natural hair, you miss the blond more than you’d like to admit, something about the way the light reflects off of it undeniably attractive.
The king pulls you in by the waist, causing you to fall next to him rather ungracefully. You focus on the sound of his breathing, trying to distract yourself from the way you’re pushed up against him, his hand rubbing circles into your hip. He smells like the earth after it rains, the pleasant aroma intoxicating.
You unintentionally make eye contact with Yoongi, his dark brown irises almost invisible in the dim lighting. He looks like he wants to devour you, and you don’t think you would stop him if he did.
Yoongi moves first. His free hand moves up to cradle the back of your head before he leans in, eyes still watching you. Your heart jumps in your chest and despite having wanted this for weeks, you find that you aren’t sure what to do. The senior maids never taught you anything about how to please a man.
He takes your lower lip between his teeth, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Needing something to ground you, you fist at his robes, wrinkling the fine fabric. He tastes of mint and honey and mixed with the scent of freshly fallen rain, all of your senses are overwhelmed by him.
Despite having been visibly exhausted just moments earlier, he kisses you with renewed vigor. The hand on your hip moves up your side slowly, hesitantly. When you don’t move to stop him, he gently caresses the curve of your breast through your top before he takes the goreum between his slender fingers.
Yoongi pulls away from you and you reluctantly let go of his robes. “We can stop right now with no questions asked,” he says. “We can act like this never happened.” The hand on the back of your neck moves to cup your cheek, the thumb brushing over the soft skin almost lovingly. “Are you sure you want to keep going,” he asks again when you nod.
“Yes.” You answer him without pause. “Yes.” You comb your fingers through his hair.
The king looks at you for a long moment, searching for any signs of hesitation. You’re about to reassure him when he kisses you again. He’s rougher this time—like he can’t get enough of you—a stark contrast to the gentle way he undresses you.
With one hand he pulls loose the tie that holds your jeogori closed. The garment falls open before you shrug out of it, untying the strings of your skirt with practiced ease. He removes the straps of the skirt from your shoulders, followed by the cloth around your chest and your underwear.
With his other hand, he lets down your hair, the daenggi he gifted you falling to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Yoongi cards his fingers through your hair, loosening the braid and causing your hair to fall freely over your breasts before he brushes it aside.
Yoongi gently pushes you so that your back rests against the head of the bed. You bring your hands up to cover yourself, suddenly aware of how bare you are to him, self-conscious of your appearance. As king, Yoongi has plenty of concubines and feeling lackluster in comparison, your shy away from him.
He gently takes your hands in his own. Heat rushes to your cheeks, but he says nothing of it. Instead, he asks you again if you’re okay with this. “If you don’t feel the same, we can still stop,” he says, thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. There isn’t a hint of disappointment or anger in his eyes, only acceptance, if not a bit of fear, afraid that you might not care for him the way he does for you.
Your heart aches at the thought that he might think you don’t care for him. You can’t think of anyone besides Eunji that you’ve cared for to this extent. Not since you came to the palace as a child.
“I do feel the same!” The words come out rushed and louder than you intended, but Yoongi smiles at your outburst. “It’s just…” you take your lip between your teeth, trying to find the right words. “I’m not pretty like one of your concubines,” you say softly, looking away from him.
“Is that what you’re worried about? That I don’t find you attractive?” His words are gentle. “You might not be pretty like my concubines, but you’re pretty like you, Y/N—and I happen to think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” One of his hands moves to your face, thumb brushing against your cheek.
Your heart soars at his words and you’re overcome by emotion. A tear slides down your cheek before you quickly wipe it away, causing Yoongi to chuckle softly.
“If you have any reservations at all, we don’t have to go any further.”
“Please,” you pull at his robes. “I want this. I want you.”
Yoongi leans back and removes his clothing, baring himself to you, eyes never leaving your own as he undresses.
When he is fully naked, you spend a moment just looking at him before either of you move again. Hesitantly, you run your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, trying to memorize every hill and valley. Slowly, you move your fingers over the outline of his abdomen, the muscles rippling under your touch.
Yoongi stays still as you explore his body, seemingly content to let your hands roam over him. He only speaks when your hands dip below his navel and pause before going further like you aren’t quite sure what to do next.
Unmoving, he asks “Have you done this before?” At the shake of your head, his familiar gummy smile spreads across his face, causing your stomach to flip and your heart to skip a beat. “Then let me focus on you.”
“But I want to make you feel good,” you pout slightly.
“You can, another time,” he chuckles. “Making you feel good will make me feel good, too.” His fingers brush against the underside of your breast before lightly tracing circles around your nipples with his thumbs. “Can I?”
“Please,” you whine at the sensation.
Taking one of the buds into his mouth, he circles it with his tongue, sucking gently. You arch your back at the pleasurable feeling, searching from more. Yoongi takes this as encouragement, rolling the neglected peak between his thumb and forefinger until it’s hard.
Slowly, he begins kissing his way down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in his wake. When his lips wrap around your clit and suck, you buck your hips involuntarily as you bury your hands in his hair, crying out at the foreign yet pleasurable feeling.
His hands gently push your thighs apart before he settles in between them. Licking between your folds, his tongue prods at your entrance teasingly as he enjoys the broken moans that leave your lips.
“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so sensitive.” Yoongi drags his middle finger through your folds, collecting your arousal. Looking up at you, his tongue swipes across the finger, the digit glistening with your slick in the candlelight. The look in his eyes as he makes eye contact with you causes your walls to clench in anticipation.
“Please, Yoongi.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to touch me, make me feel good.”
“I am touching you. Does this not feel good?” He kisses your inner thigh, hands gliding over the smooth skin. Your hands pull at his hair hard enough to cause pain, but Yoongi simply continues teasing you, fingers lightly tracing designs across the skin. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“Here, want you here.” One of your hands moves down to the apex of your thighs, spreading apart your lower lips. The unobstructed view of your cunt as it clenches around nothing elicits a growl from the king before he replaces your hand with his own.
Carefully, so as not to hurt you, he inserts a single finger into your heat. The discomfort lasts for only a moment before it’s replaced with pleasure. Seeing your face relax, he begins thrusting the digit in and out, slowly working you open. After several minutes, he speeds up, thrusting his finger into your warm walls.
“More, please,” you whine, one finger no longer enough.
Your moans of pleasure fill the otherwise quiet room when Yoongi adds another finger. Carefully, he begins to stretch you out with a scissoring motion, causing your hips to lift off the bed to meet his movements.
“Fuck, you’re so wet. Wanna watch your face when you come,” he groans.
You rarely have time to pleasure yourself, and when you do have time, you often fall asleep before you can. Still, you’ve fingered yourself a handful of times, but it doesn’t compare to the way Yoongi does it. His fingers are longer and thicker than your own, stretching you more than you’ve ever done yourself.
Never breaking eye contact with you, Yoongi’s tongue alternates between pressing flat against your clit and drawing circles around the bud, enjoying the pleasured moans he pulls from your lips. He repeats these actions until you’re trembling beneath him, the pressure in your stomach growing. It’s when his fingers brush against a certain spot and you see stars, that your high washes over you.
Your back arches off the bed as you moan the king’s name loud enough for the people outside to hear, but you’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don’t care. Never have you been able to bring yourself to such a strong climax, one that has you seeing white.
Yoongi laps at your essence greedily, fingers continuing to pump in and out of you through your orgasm until it’s almost painful. Your fists tighten around his hair, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. Not until he’s cleaned you properly, leaving no traces of your orgasm.
“Fuck, you look so pretty when you fall apart for me,” he comes up, licking the residual arousal from his fingers, tongue darting out cheekily as you watch him, unable to look away in your pleasurable haze. Leaning forward, he kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his tongue.
When he pulls away, his eyes are soft, more so than they usually are. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” He grins, gently patting down your hair and brushing it away from your face.
“You didn’t finish.” Your words are mumbled and slur together, all your energy depleted. “I want to help you, too.” Reaching out to him, your frown when he pulls away from you. You hadn’t realized how cold you were until he lays the comforter over your naked body.
“We can do that next time.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to him resting his chin in the crook of your neck. “You’re tired. Go to sleep, love.”
Were you more aware, you might have commented on the term of endearment, but you’re far too tired. Instead, you become aware of the way his breath tickles the skin on your neck, the way his chest rises and falls in time to your own.
Encompassed by his form and his comforting scent, it’s not long before you succumb to your exhaustion.
You wake up the following morning to the rustling of clothes. Slowly sitting up in bed, you giggle at the sight of the king fumbling around in his undergarments. There’s light streaming in through the screen windows, though it’s dim enough that you don’t need to worry about being late to work.
“What are you doing,” you step up beside him, looking over his shoulder curiously as he rummages through the pile of discarded clothes on the ground
“I’m looking for my sangtugwan and the donggot,” he says, not looking at you.
Rolling your eyes, you make your way to the table you set the headpiece on last night. “It’s over here,” you laugh lightly.
Turning to you, Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat at the sign of you naked, illuminated by the golden hues of the morning sun. He only stops staring when you clear your throat, a pink tinge visible on your cheeks.
“You look beautiful,” the king says, in awe of your beauty. Gentle hands brush against your collarbone as he admires you. There are no underlying sexual motives though. The affection he has for you is clear in the way he looks at you like you’re his entire world, and that thought causes your heart to skip a beat.
“Y-you wanted this.” You hold the crown out to him, trying to ignore the way your cheeks flush at his attention.
“Will you help me put it on?”
“Let me get dressed first.” You can tell that he wants to make a joke about your state of undress, but he keeps it to himself.
You pick your own clothes up off the floor and get dressed, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles that resulted due to lying in a pile all night. The daenggi that Yoongi gifted you lies on the ground, and you frown.
“I can’t believe you just dropped this on the ground,” you chastise the king. Bending down to pick it up, you brush it off, making sure that any dust or dirt on it is gone.
Yoongi pouts at your words, not liking being reprimanded by you. “It’s just a strip of fabric,” he says downtrodden.
“It’s a pretty strip of fabric that you gave me.” You won’t tell him this, but you treasure the gifts he gives you, always careful not to damage or break them. He frequently brushes it off when he gives you gifts, saying that it was the first thing he saw, or that he just had it lying around and didn’t want it anymore. Regardless of his excuses, you know that he puts more thought into his actions than he’d like for people to believe.
You see the way he agonizes over certain petitions, trying to come up with a solution that will satisfy everyone, and he always cleans his room himself so that the maids have less work to do. That’s why even when you know he’d offer to replace something immediately, you want to cherish the presents because you also know how much consideration goes into the gifts.
It’s odd, you think, to see the man known as coldhearted and uninterested in most affairs act so thoughtfully. It’s sad that people can’t see him the way you do, but there’s something comforting about being one of the few people to know him so well.
Ignoring the way he grumbles about you being overly sentimental, you continue to dress, trying to smooth out the fabric and ultimately failing. Yoongi spends the time looking over the pile of petitions on the table, glancing up at you occasionally with an indecipherable look on his face.
When you finish getting dressed, you ask him to sit in the chair so that you can more easily see what you’re doing. You pull his long black hair away from where it falls around his slender shoulders, tying it up into a bun. Yoongi has to help instruct you along the way since you aren’t sure what you’re doing, but he’s patient.
“You called me ‘love’ last night,” you say quietly, afraid that you heard him wrong, or maybe even imagined it. You help him with his headband, making sure that it’s secure.
“I did.”
Carefully, you place the metal cylinder around his sangtu, making sure that there are no stray hairs. “Why?”
After you slide the donggot through the crown and the bun, Yoongi stands up, turning to face you. He takes your face into his rough hands almost reverently, like he’s afraid of hurting you. Looking you in the eyes, you can see nothing but admiration, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
“Because you, Song Y/N, are beautiful both on the outside and in here,” he points at your chest. “You’ve seen parts of me that few other people have, and you accepted them. You did not run when you saw my hair, nor did you condemn me for my differences.”
“Anyone would do the same.” It’s a lie, and you both know it. There are plenty of people at court who would jump at the opportunity to dethrone him and have him exiled—or worse.
“It doesn’t matter what other people would or wouldn’t do. They aren’t you.”
You can hear your heartbeat pounding, and you worry that he can hear it too. He looks at you—not for the first time—with uncertainty, something akin to fear accompanying it, resting his forehead against your own. His calloused thumb rubs gentle circles on your cheek and you find yourself leaning into his comforting touch.
“I love you, but if you don’t feel the same, I will not force you to stay any longer. All you need to do is say the word and you can leave the palace. Sell my gifts and live a life better than this one. I would not blame you.” There’s a sadness in his eyes that breaks your heart.
“I don’t know much about the affairs of the heart,” you start, one of your hands wrapping around the back of his neck. “But I know that I don’t wish to be somewhere you aren’t.”
The elated smile that spreads across Yoongi’s face fills you with joy, and you take comfort in the way he relaxes into your hold.
The two of you jump apart at the sound of Jihoon’s voice at the door. “Your Majesty,” he calls, waiting for the king to invite him in, maids with trays of food following him closely behind. It’s embarrassing, the way you practically drool at the food, unaware of just how hungry you are, and you can hear the king snicker softly.
Breakfast for you is short, as you need to get to work quickly. You send Yoongi one last look before leaving him to enjoy the rest of his meal.
The first time you say the words ‘I love you’ is no more than a fortnight later. It’s unromantic, an accident, and you barely remember it. They slip out after a night of drinking with Yoongi, which your tongue has been loosened by the alcohol and your inhibitions are gone.
You laugh at the way his eyes widen in surprise before his expression softens. He gently lets your hair down, making sure to place the daenggi he gifted to you in a mother of pearl box that sits on your dresser, the most recent gift he’s given you.
The king is careful not to pull on your hair when he slips your outermost garments off, struggling to do so with the way you cling to him in your drunken haze. When he has finally managed to evade your wildly waving arms and your hands that grab at him, it’s been a good twenty minutes.
Folding the clothes to keep them from wrinkling, he sets them on the dresser. When he turns around to face the bed, you are sprawled out on your back with your mouth scrunched up in a pout as you look at him.
“Come back here,” you slur, tongue unable to wrap around the sounds properly.
“I’m coming, love.” He chuckles, carefully tucking you underneath your blankets. “You’re a mess, you know that?” Yoongi brushes the hair away from your face, admiring the way the light flickers on your cheeks.
“‘M your mess though.”
“I suppose you are,” he kisses you on the forehead, getting up to leave.
“Don’t go,” you mumble, hand darting out to grab his robes before he can get too far. “Stay.”
“You need to sleep.” He knows there’s no use in trying to reason with someone as drunk as you are, but he doesn’t have the heart to leave you when you look up at him with unfocused eyes.
“But I love you.” The words come out as a whisper as sleep begins to overtake you, but Yoongi hears them all the same.
“I love you too,” he says, gently stroking your hair until you fall asleep.
It’s not long before the leaves fall from the trees and the days get shorter and grow colder. Eunji and Prince Jungkook spend many afternoons together, often shirking their responsibilities to do something ridiculous, but you see no harm in it as long as they’re both happy. You’re glad to see that your friend has finally stopped her flirtations with every man she sees.
The king and you grow closer as the days go by. It’s unusual when you don’t see him at all on any given day, even if only for a few minutes. You look forward to these small moments in between your daily responsibilities, whether you get to talk or just send him a small smile, your day doesn’t feel complete without seeing him at least once.
“Y/N, Y/N! It’s snowing!” Eunji’s excited yell from the courtyard startles you.
Sure enough, as you walk outside, the ground is dusted in white powder, more of it falling from the sky above. The cold tickles your cheeks and reddens your nose, and you shiver.
“It’s so cold,” you complain to your best friend who seems too preoccupied throwing handfuls of snow at Prince Jungkook to hear you.
Laughing and shaking your head, you turn to go back inside only for the entrance to the Royal Archives to be blocked by Yoongi.
“Your Majesty,” you greet him, bowing, You can see the slight downturn of the corners of his lips at your formality, but he says nothing of it. “Can I do something for you?”
Clearing his throat, he turns away from you with red cheeks, either from the cold or his embarrassment, you can’t tell. You have a sneaking suspicion it has more to do with the latter, though. “Would you like to join me for a walk, love?”
Even though it’s been a while since he first called you that, it still makes heat rise to your cheeks as your heart skips a beat.
You can see your fellow maids peeking out of the archives in the background, envy and curiosity in their eyes, but you’re only focused on Yoongi. His hair needs to be dyed again soon, you think to yourself at how light his hair has gotten.
When you asked him why he doesn’t use a more permanent dye, he simply shrugged and said that none of them took to his hair very well. You have your doubts about his explanation, but you didn’t push him further.
“I still have a couple of hours before I finish—”
“We can take care of it,” Eunji cuts you off. “Bunny can help too,” she pulls the prince over, fingers entwining. If either of the royals think anything of the nickname, they say nothing.
“I really don’t think it’s appropriate to ask him to h—”
“It’s fine, really!” You get interrupted again when Prince Jungkook speaks up. “You go have fun with hyung!” He sends his brother a knowing look.
“Then it’s settled,” the king says, leaving no room for you or anyone else to argue, not that anyone else would dare decline an invitation from him.
Yoongi pulls you away and towards his room, before turning down a path you’ve never seen before. Seldom used, plants grow between the stones laid out on the ground. Barren trees line the way before opening up to a clearing.
You can hear the sound of running water nearby but your attention is drawn to the gazebo at the edge of the treeline, blankets and food set out for the two of you. There’s a fire pit not too far from the structure, large rocks placed around a pile of firewood covered by a piece of fabric.
Beside you, Yoongi looks at you with nervousness, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in a rather undignified manner. The sight makes your heart swell with joy, a big smile spreading across your face.
“Did you do all of this yourself?”
“Jungkook and Jihoon helped a bit, but do you like it?”
“I love it,” you squeeze his hand gently. “It’s beautiful.”
His shoulders sag in relief, as he leads you to the gazebo. Yoongi helps you step up onto the platform, making sure you’re settled. He pours you a cup of tea before going to start the fire.
You take in your surroundings, paying attention to the way nature seems to be reclaiming the small area. Vines grow up the worn wood of the gazebo, most of the paint chipped off by now. The sound of water appears to be coming from beyond the clearing on the other end, likely a small stream running through the palace grounds. You can make out faint animal prints near the treeline, but you can’t identify them.
The sound of Yoongi grunting pulls your attention back to him. Hunched over the pile of wood, he struggles to start a fire, and you can see his hands shaking slightly from the cold. His breath comes out in puffs before dissipating into the air. Covering your mouth to hide the laugh that escapes you, you get up and slip your shoes on again, ignoring how cold they are in contrast to your feet which had been tucked underneath the blankets.
“Do you need some help?” He startles at your voice, turning to look at you sheepishly.
“Do you know how?”
“I’ve worked in the kitchens my fair share,” you shrug. “I know a thing or two.”
Instead of doing it for him, you help him through it, instructing him on what to do. Though it takes longer than it would have if you’d done it from the start, the satisfied look on his face makes it worth it.
The snow continues to fall, but the fire burns easily enough. The two of you go back to the gazebo and huddle under the blankets together. The food grows cold in the time that it takes to get the fire going—something that Yoongi apologizes profusely for—but you don’t mind. The tea is still warm and you heat the food up by the fire.
“I’m sorry you’re doing most of the work,” he mumbles, chin resting on your shoulder as he holds you from behind, legs spread out on either side of you. “My tutors never really taught me how to do this.” His breath tickles the skin on your neck, and you lean back into him, raising an arm to gently stroke his cheek.
“It’s fine. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Is there a reason for all this, though?”
“It’s the first snowfall,” he says flatly like it was obvious.
“I wasn’t aware that you knew what that means. Or that you’re a superstitious person,” you laugh lightly.
“I wasn’t.” The deep baritone of his laugh fills your ears, his chest shaking behind you. “Jungkook came running into my study yelling about it.” The mental image has you smiling fondly, envious of the sibling bond they have. “Jihoon also said that a lot of couples spend the first snow together. And,” he adds, “I’m not superstitious.”
“Then why do all this?”
“Because,” he pulls away from you, and you look back at him in confusion, suddenly cold where his arms once were. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“You’re scaring me Yoongi,” you turn to face him fully.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do. How could I not?” Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest, afraid of where things are going. It’s rare when he’s this serious in your presence. The only other time you can remember being when he caught wind of palace gossip about you and how some of his concubines had been harassing you.
You’d never seen him that mad before. At first, you were afraid that he was mad at you before he calmed down enough to explain it to you, though he was still upset that you didn’t tell him sooner. You don’t know what he did, but those women stopped the very next day, and they hadn’t approached you since.
“And,” he starts, eyes meeting your own. “You love me, right?”
“I–Of course I do.” You stutter briefly, taken aback by how serious he’s being.
“Good. That’s good.”
“Yoongi?” You gently pry for more information. “What is this about?”
“Well, I was wondering if...that is, if you want to...maybe…” Usually well-spoken, the shy stuttering man before you would normally be rather endearing to you. You wait for him to find his words before he starts speaking again. Taking a deep breath, he continues. “I want to wed you, Song Y/N,” he says resolutely. “I want to make you my queen.”
For a long while, neither one of you says anything. You search his eyes for any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is pure, unadulterated love and adoration. The only sounds in the clearing are that of your breathing, the crackling fire, and the stream. You don’t even feel cold anymore.
“Y/N?” Yoongi seems to take your silence as rejection, his face falling. “It was foolish of me to—”
Your lips are on his before he can even finish the thought, hands coming up to wrap around the back of his neck. The kiss is messy and impassioned, teeth knocking against each other as he slips his tongue over your own. His hands wrap around your cheek and waist, pulling you impossibly close to him. You can’t tell if it’s your own body you feel heating up, or if you can feel him through the layers of clothing, but you know that all you can see, feel, and hear is him. Neither one of you wants to pull away, but the need for air wins in the end.
The two of you pant, the cold winter air filling your lungs, the heat that was there just moments before disappearing as you watch your breath come out in puffs. Your clothes are wrinkled and the blankets fell off some time along the way, but you don’t care.
“Does this mean the answer is yes?”
“I’m just a palace maid, but if you’ll have me, yes. A million times yes.” You can just barely feel tears slide down your cheeks as your eyelashes freeze together, but all you care about is the man in front of you.
Cold hands come up to brush away the wetness, but it just causes you to cry more. “You’re so much more than that,” he says. “You’re the woman I fell in love with.”
You don’t see Yoongi for days after that, but news quickly spreads around the palace. Some people send you dirty looks or whisper things behind your back when they think you can’t hear them, but you pay no attention to them. Eunji barged into your room the next morning, and you feared for your eardrums with how loudly she was yelling.
You hadn’t quite understood what she was saying but you laughed all the same. Despite the news that the king was getting married, your life continued much the same as it had been going.
A fortnight goes by like this before you see Yoongi again when he calls you to keep him company in his study. It hasn’t been that long, but there are dark circles under his eyes and he looks thinner.
Immediately, you go to his side, kneeling beside him at the table in front of him. “What’s wrong? Are you sleeping enough? Eating enough?”
“Hello to you too, love.” He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your temple. “The court officials had some things to say of me marrying you,” he explains.
You try to hide the way your shoulders fall a little at his words, but he can tell, the hand on your waist squeezing gently.
“I don’t need to be queen,” you say. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to stay by your side.”
“I know, love, but I want to be able to show the world how much you mean to me,” he stops writing for a moment to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “I’ll find a way to placate them.”
You don’t know how much time passes like that, the two of you sitting side by side in silence as he works. Eventually, you lie down and rest your head in his lap, content to close your eyes. Yoongi’s hand gently strokes your head, and you fall asleep.
Jihoon wakes you up, announcing the arrival of someone, you think you hear something about the Royal Investigations Bureau, but you can’t quite catch it. The king waits until you’re sitting upright to tell the eunuch to let the man in, but you don’t hear anything after that.
Your eyes settle on the man being quite literally dragged in by the guard. His cheeks are cut and bruised, and the stray hairs not held by his headband are matted to his forehead. Blood is splattered on his clothes, and you hope it’s not his.
Even after all your years spent away from him, your father looks the same as the day his wife sent you away. If Yoongi notices the way you stiffen, he does little to acknowledge it.
“What is it?” You haven’t seen him act so cold and indifferent since your first encounter with him, and if you didn’t know him better, it would scare you how quickly he can change his personas.
“Your Majesty,” the guard looks to you, unsure of whether he should continue with you present until Yoongi motions for him to go on. “This man was found with documents planning an attempt on your life as well as Prince Jungkook’s,” He throws your father on the floor, and he can barely keep himself upright. It takes everything you have to keep from crying right there, and you fist at the fabric of your skirts, knuckles turning white.
Your father coughs, trying to sit up. “Y-your Majesty.” His voice is hoarse, nothing like the warm and comforting sound you remember from your childhood. Before he can say more though, the guard kicks him.
“These are the papers.” He holds papers out, and Jihoon takes them from him before handing them to the king, eyes meeting your own for the briefest of moments before he’s returning to his place off to the side.
Yoongi reads over the papers, looking at your father occasionally. You can’t tell what he’s thinking though, and you find yourself biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste heavy on your tongue.
He opens his mouth to speak but before he has a chance to say anything, you interrupt him, a grave offense on its own.
“S-stop!”
For the first time since your father was brought in, the king looks at you, taken aback by how distressed you look. His eyes sweep over your form, not understanding why you’re so tense.
“How dare you interrupt His Majesty?” The guard steps towards you but stops when Yoongi holds up his hand.
“Please Y-Yoongi,” his name slips past your lips before you can correct it, but nobody says anything, least of all him. “Your Majesty, please—he’s innocent.”
“She’s clearly working with him,” the guard says.
The eyes that had softened when he looked at you harden once more, and it sends a chill down your spine. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or how he’s feeling, but the way he looks at you makes your skin crawl.
You prostrate yourself before him, voice coming out weaker than you intended it to when you speak again. “I beg of you. Please spare him!”
“Everyone. Leave us.” Nobody questions the order, not with how he sounds, the true embodiment of the coldhearted king everyone believes him to be. It isn’t until everyone has left, the sound of the doors closing behind them echoing in the silent room when he addresses you. “Look at me.”
The words are reminiscent of your first meeting with him but while that memory brings warmth, you feel empty when he says them this time, all traces of love gone. Hesitantly, you look up at him. There’s a range of emotions in his eyes, but the most obvious one is anger.
“I love you,” he says, though the ways he says the three words suggest the opposite. “I told you I wanted to make you my queen,” he says. “So tell me, Song Y/N, why you’re begging for the life of a man plotting to take not just my life, but my brother’s as well? Are you working with him?”
“No! I love you,” you cry, not bothering to wipe away the tears that stream down your cheeks. “How can you question my feelings for you? Do you not trust me?”
“The timing is awfully suspicious. I know nothing of your past. I thought my love for you was enough, but maybe I was wrong,” he turns away from you. “Guards!”
They come running it at his call, lining up in front of him. From your position on the floor, they look more imposing than they do when you pass them on the palace grounds. Some of them you even recognize. Jimin, the Captain of the Guard, stands at the front.
“Lock her up.” Yoongi doesn’t look at you even as he issues the command.
Jimin has the decency to wait for you to get up on your own before he grabs you by the elbow, leading you out of the room. You can hear the maids whispering as you pass them on the way to the jail, saying things like ‘serves her right for trying to seduce the king’ or similar things. You pass by Eunji and Prince Jungkook who stare at you with wide eyes but are pushed forward when you try to talk to them.
Somewhere along the way, Jimin was called away to deal with something more pressing, squeezing your arm gently before handing you off to his much more aggressive underlings who yank you harshly, before throwing you into a cell.
“Wench,” one of them says before walking away.
Scrambling to your feet, you frantically search for your father, eyes searching the nearby cells before you hear a cough come from behind you, seeing your father hunched over in the corner.
“A-are you okay?” You ask him through your tears, brushing his hair away from his face and gently dabbing at the cuts on his cheek with your sleeve.
“Do I know you,” he coughs out, blood splattering your jeogori though he covers his mouth in a weak attempt to contain it.
Your heart falls when he doesn’t recognize you, but you suppose it wouldn’t make sense if he did. The last time he saw you, you were a child.
“It’s me, a-appa,” you say. “Your daughter, Y/N.”
Your father’s eyes meet your own for the first time in over a decade, hands shaking as they hover over your face. He looks you over slowly, eyes watering as a look of recognition washes over him.
“Is it really?”
“Yes, yes it’s really me,” you smile in spite of everything, taking his hand in your own and pressing it to your cheek. “It’s me, appa.”
“Minseo said you were dead. I mourned you for years,” he cries, his shoulders shaking as words get stuck in his throat. “What happened?”
“She sold me to the palace,” you explain, falling into his familiar embrace. “I’ve been here ever since.”
The two of you stay like that for a long while, not caring about the looks the other prisoners send your way. By the time you finally stop crying, no tears left, the sun has set, though it can’t be too late, given you can still hear plenty of people outside.
“You’ve grown up beautifully,” your father leans back, finally getting a good look at you. His hand “What were you doing with the king?” He questions.
“I love him. And he loves me, I think.” You bury your face in your hands. “I told him you were innocent but he...he got mad at me,” you say. “He didn’t give me a chance to explain things before calling for the guards.”
Before either of you can say anything, Eunji comes running up to the wooden bars, Prince Jungkook not far behind.
“Y/N! What happened? We saw the guards arresting you, but nobody would tell us why.”
“How did you get in here?” You rise from where you were sitting with your father, meeting your best friend at the locked door.
Eunji jerks her head towards where Prince Jungkook stands next to her, smiling awkwardly at you. “Bunny here got them to let us in. But you didn’t answer my question!”
You explain the situation to her, starting with when your father’s wife sent you away. Eunji knows, already, but for the prince’s sake, you explain again. You tell them how your father was framed for treason and about how you begged Yoongi to spare him. When you tell them how he reacted, your best friend rolls up her sleeves.
“I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind,” she turns to march away before Prince Jungkook pulls her back, looking at you apologetically.
“Hyung doesn’t hate you,” he says. “He loves you so much it’s actually disgusting,” he wrinkles his nose. “I think he’s probably really confused and a little hurt. You have to understand that he had to learn the hard way how important it is that he trust the right people.”
“That doesn’t make it okay!” Eunji’s outburst earns her a poke in the side.
“I never said it was. I’m just trying to explain things from Yoongi-hyung’s perspective. I’ll try to talk to him, but we can’t stay here much longer.”
You say goodbye to the two of them and move back to sit next to your father again who, despite obviously being in worse shape than you, takes your hand in his as you rest your head on his shoulder.
That night, Yoongi plagues your dreams, forcing you to watch him to execute your father again and again.
It’s the third night in the cell when your father gently shakes you awake from where you lie on the cold stone ground.
“Y/N, wake up.” For a moment, it feels like you’re a child again, having fallen asleep on the floor in his study while he worked. “Wake up,” he shakes you again. “His Majesty wants to talk to you.”
You rub your eyes as you sit up, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings. Sure enough, Yoongi stands at the entrance to your cell, the door opened likely by whoever just turned the corner. You can’t read the expression on his face in the dim torchlight, but you don’t care. Seeing him again brings tears to your eyes, stomach twisting into knots wondering why he’s here.
“What,” you ask shortly, unable to keep your teeth from chattering in the winter, cold having seeped into your bones after the first night.
“Jungkook told me to come and talk to you,” he says, and you can feel his eyes bore into you even though you aren’t looking at him.
“You didn’t want to talk three days ago,” you say angrily, glaring at the disapproving look your father sends your way.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way his tongue pokes at his cheek, mulling over his words. “I was mad. And hurt. I know that’s no excuse for my actions but—will you please look at me, love?”
“Oh, so now you love me again?”
“I never stopped. I was just mad. More at myself for thinking I couldn’t trust you anymore, than you.” he explains. “You’ve given me no reason not to trust you but even still, I lashed out at you.”
“It really hurt, you know, when you didn’t trust me.”
“I know.” Yoongi’s eyes sweep over your form, taking in the way your eyes are sunken in, and how you seem thinner. You’re shivering, he notices, and he’s mad at himself for allowing this to happen to you. Hesitantly, he steps towards you, relieved when you don’t move away from him.
“Jungkook practically yelled at me,” he chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Told me if I didn’t fix things that he would assassinate me himself, the little brat.” His words pull a quiet laugh from you, the corners of your mouth tugging upward ever so slightly.
“That sounds like him,” you say, still not meeting his gaze.
“It does, doesn’t it.” He sits across from where you sit on the floor, not minding that the stone is cold, or that he’s dirtying his robes, though he knows that were things how they normally were, you would chastise him. “Won’t you look at me, love?”
Slowly, you turn to face him, eyes meeting his own. Your resolve begins to crumble when you see how tired he looks, and you wonder if he’s slept at all. His robes are wrinkled and his hair is in disarray, much different from the put-together Yoongi you know.
“Jungkook explained things to me,” he looks to your father who watches him carefully from where he’s seated. “I’m sorry for my rash behavior,” he gets on his knees, bowing to your father.
“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he turns to you, still bowing. “I hurt you, and I can’t take back what I did, but if you’ll let me, I want to make things right.”
“W-wait,” you shuffle forward, trying to push him so that he’s sitting upright again, but he doesn’t budge.
The rest of the people here begin to stir from their sleep, and nothing good would come from them seeing Yoongi, the king, bowing to a palace maid on the floor. You try again to get him to sit up straight, whispering harshly in your distress.
“Will you get up? Please?”
“Only when you promise to let me make it up to you.”
“Fine! Fine, you can make it up to me, but please, will you get up?”
“Promise to come with me.”
You look to your father who looks way too amused at the scene playing out in front of him, all things considered. “I can’t just leave him here,” you say.
"It would look suspicious if I let him out after the whole court knows what happened, but I promise I’ll make things right,” he looks at you intently.
Only after your father waves you away, ensuring he’ll be okay, do you leave the cell, exiting the building with Yoongi. You make a promise to get your dad out of there, looking back to see Jimin waving encouragingly as you leave.
Yoongi brings you to his room, ordering servants to draw a hot bath for you and bring a clean change of clothes. You try to get him to stop fussing over you, but he doesn’t listen. Soon enough, you’re sitting in the king’s bath with several changes of clothes available to you, Yoongi pacing behind the screen.
The silence between the two of you is deafening. It’s so different from the comforting quiet that falls over the two of you when you’re simply content to be in the other’s presence. This time though, it’s clear neither one of you is quite sure how to move forward from here, and you say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I still love you.” Though quiet, Yoongi’s silhouette freezes on the other side of the partition, the rhythmic sound of his feet stopping. You busy yourself by playing with your hair, dragging it through the water.
You hear the king take a deep breath before speaking. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, you know. You can still leave if you want. After we clear things up with your father. I won’t stop you.”
“Will you help me wash my hair?”
The request catches him by surprise, and he hesitates before stepping around the screen. He pulls a stool up behind you, rolling his sleeves up before he gently begins to massage the soap into your hair.
“I’m still mad,” you say. “And I’m hurt, but even now, the idea of leaving you makes me sad. But,” you continue, “I need to know that you can trust me. I’m sure you have some questions about what Prince Jungkook said.”
Yoongi’s hands slow, trying to figure out what to ask. “Why didn’t you tell me about your past?”
“It’s not exactly something I enjoy telling people about. The only person that knew was Eunji, and even she doesn’t know much.”
“But he’s a nobleman, surely you could have reached out to him?” His hands have stopped all together now, but you don’t mind. In spite of everything that’s happened, his presence still calms you.
“Maybe, but I was young, I didn’t know what to do. When I finally understood what happened, I thought it would be better if I stayed out of his life. I’m an illegitimate child, there’s not much going for him in a household like that.”
Though the silence is still heavy, it’s more bearable this time. He helps you get out of the water, draping a towel over you as you shiver. Yoongi doesn’t know what lines he can and can’t cross, so he goes back to sit on the bed to wait for you.
When you step into his room, you immediately sit beside him, leaning against him. His familiar scent comforts you as you listen to his breathing. His body feels hot next to your own, and you move his arm so that it rests on your shoulders.
“Let’s go to bed, I’m tired.”
“Of course, love.”
You fall asleep before you’ve fully lied down. Yoongi gently wraps his arms around you, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll have disappeared into the night when he wakes up in the morning.
Both of you sleep better that night than you have the past several days.
It takes a while for evidence suggesting your father’s innocence to surface, and even longer still for them to find the person who framed him in the first place. During those weeks there’s a brief period of uncertainty between Yoongi and you, but things returned to normal not long after.
Evenings that were once spent in his arms became occupied by visiting your father and making sure he’s okay. With some assistance from Jimin, sneaking food to him was easy and he looked to be faring much better now that he was getting proper sustenance.
Eunji and Prince Jungkook are the first people you talked to the day after being released and though they assured you that you didn’t need to thank them, you did so anyway, promising to help them with something whenever the need arose.
Now, several weeks later, you stand outside the prison, waiting for your dad to come out. Despite having met with him multiple times already, you can’t stop the way you shake with nervousness and anticipation.
Noticing this, Yoongi wraps his hand around your own, fingers intertwining as he squeezes reassuringly. “Take a deep breath, love.”
“What if he decides he doesn’t want me anymore?” You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. “Or he doesn’t care about me anymore?” It’s been years since you last saw each other, after all.
“Did you not see the way he was glaring at me when I went to talk to you that night?” A breathy chuckle escapes him as he recalls the mistakes that lead to that moment. “He looked like he wanted my head on a pike for making you cry like that.”
You don’t remember any of that, but you suppose you were too distressed to pay attention to anything other than Yoongi at that moment. You don’t remember much of that night, to be entirely honest. Your emotions had been overwhelming, and you blocked most of them out.
The two of you turn towards the sound of approaching footsteps, Jimin leading your father out to where you’re waiting. “One Song Jiyeon, as requested” he says with a bright smile on his face, eyes crinkling into crescent moons before he turns and goes back to his post.
Were you not so on edge right now you would have stuck your tongue out at the Captain of the Guard, but you’re at a loss for what to do. You take a step towards your dad before stopping. Is hugging him still acceptable? You are no longer the little girl that clung to his robes whenever he had to go to work in the mornings. Thankfully he makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around you.
It’s strange, no longer needing to crane your neck to look up at him. He doesn’t need to bend down to hug you anymore, either. Even though it’s been more than a decade, he still smells like ink and parchment, and you realize now why the Royal Archives had always felt so familiar to you.
The cuts and scrapes that littered his face are gone, and his hair is no longer in disarray. Now that you see him in the sunlight, you can see the signs of aging at the corners of his eyes when he smiles at you, and in the greyed hairs that can be seen growing in his beard. He looks good though, like he’s lived well these past years.
“Let me get a good look at you,” he steps away so that you’re an arm’s length away, hands resting on your shoulders as he takes you in. His eyes soften as they sweep over your face, his mouth spreading into a gentle smile. “You look so much like your mother,” he says fondly. You think he’s about to cry before he blinks the tears away.
“Really?” You never met your mother who died shortly after giving birth to you, and you think that Minseo, your father’s wife, was glad for it, though she would never say it outright. She would treat you like her daughter in her husband’s presence but would ignore you otherwise.
“Really. I’m so glad that I can see the beautiful woman you’ve grown up to be. I’m proud to be your father.”
Though the scene in front of him is touching, Yoongi coughs awkwardly from where he stands a little ways away, avoiding making eye contact with either you or your father. “I’m glad that the two of you have crossed paths again,” he says, “but perhaps we can move this to somewhere a little more private?”
You become aware of the dozens of eyes on the three of you and step away. “Maybe that would be for the best, appa.”
Wordlessly, the three of you make your way to the king’s study. You haven’t been back since your argument with Yoongi, and your stomach knots at the unpleasant memories. He sits behind his desk, you and your father sitting across from him.
“Despite the unique circumstances, I want to thank you for bringing Y/N into the world.” Yoongi looks at your father with sincerity, eyes flitting to your own only briefly. “And,” he continues, “I would like to formally ask for your permission to marry her and make her my queen.”
For the second time in less than a month—and likely in all his time as king—he prostrates himself before your father who looks at him in bewilderment.
“Why should I let her marry you if you just turn your back on her every time someone says something against her?”
“Appa,” you glare at him, but he keeps looking at the young man before him.
“Your father’s right, Y/N.” Yoongi sits up, looking the man in the eyes.
“Being queen isn’t easy, Y/N. People will try to hurt you either through words or actions. I need to know that he won’t turn on you so easily.”
You know what Yoongi meant now when he said your father was glaring at him. You have no doubt that, were he not king, he would be dead where he sits. It’s strange though, seeing your father, who has never been anything but kind, look at someone so sternly.
“I promise, sir, that from now until the day I die, I will always be on her side.”
Your father looks at him long and hard, and you can see the way Yoongi’s knuckles turn white with how tightly clenched his fists are. His shoulders stop rising and falling as he holds his breath, worried about what your father might say next.
“Very well, son. Make her happy.”
Yoongi’s shoulders sag in relief, and he releases the breath he’d been holding. The gummy smile that you’re so fond of makes an appearance, and you let out a sigh before turning to your father.
“Can you stop acting so scary now? If you’d gone on any longer I think he would have passed out.”
The indignant scoff the king lets out doesn’t go unnoticed, but you chose not to torment him anymore--at least for the time being. The three of you make small talk over tea for a while before your father says he has to return home for the night.
You invite Yoongi to send your dad off together but he lets you go on your own, allowing the two of you some privacy. Now that word of your parentage has gotten out, there was sure to be less opposition to your marriage, though you doubt anything could stop the king.
“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?” You turn to face your father when you reach the palace gates.
Laughing warmly, he nods his head. “I have to go back home to your younger brother,” he says fondly. You’d learned that Minseo gave birth to a son not long after she sent you away, and you’re glad for it, happy that your father still got to see one of his children grow up. “You should come meet Taehyung sometime. I think you’d like him.”
He says nothing of his wife or if he’ll confront her about it, but you don’t care at the moment. She has no power over you anymore, and you’d prefer not to revisit the past again.
When you return to your room, Yoongi’s arms wrap around your waist from behind as he trails light kisses along your neck and collarbone, before his fingers deftly begin removing your clothing.
“I just got back!” You laugh, trying to squirm away from him.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he asks, voice deep and husky. “How long I’ve wanted to hear your pretty little moans as I make you come on my cock?”
You blush at his obscene words, heat pooling in your core as he turns you to face him, pulling him into a kiss, trying to show him how much he means to you. Putting all of your love and adoration into the action, you drag your hands over his chest, feeling the toned muscle beneath the silk fabric.
Moaning into the kiss, you fist the material of his robes as he finally rids you of your last article of clothing. His hands immediately find your breasts. The way his fingers twist and pull at your nipples mixed with the frigid winter air causes them to harden as goosebumps spread across the sensitive skin.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” He moves his mouth down along your jaw, nipping at your collarbone and earning a yelp of surprise from you. Pushing you up against the wall, he moves down even further, marking the supple skin of your chest. Wrapping your hands around the back of his head, you arch into him as you feel the familiar clench of your walls as they search for stimulation. Light pink blooms decorate you all the way down to your navel before he finally stops and looks up at you from where he kneels before you.
“F-fuck, Yoongi.” He smirks at the way his name falls from your lips, red and swollen.
“I’d love to feast on you again, love, but I’m afraid that will have to wait for another night,” he says as he looks down at the tent in his robes. “Will you give me all of you?”
You nod your head vehemently. When he stays on the ground even when you try to pull him up into another kiss, you whine, hips shifting in his hold before he pins them to the wall with more force.
“I need you to say it, love. Need to know that you want me just as badly as I want you.” Thumbs rub circles into your hips as he holds you there, looking up at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.
“Yes!” The word comes out louder and more desperate than you meant but you continue all the same, voice softening into a whine, desperation evident. “Yes, please, Yoongi. Make me yours.”
The words barely leave your lips before he lifts you up and deposits you on your bed, hastily removing his royal robes and letting his hair down, dropping the sangtugwan on top of the discarded clothes.
His hair falls down around his face, framing the delicate features and emphasizing the scar that runs over his eye. He pushes your legs further apart, settling between them as his fingers trace patterns up your legs. Despite the cold, the digits leave searing heat in their wake and you whine in need.
“I’m going to make you mine,” he growls, “going to make you my queen. Do you want that? To belong to each other not only in name, but to know that nobody but the king can pleasure you like I can?”
“Yes, please,” you cry out as he circles your clit, hips rising to meet his ministrations before his unoccupied hand pins you down to the bed.
He pinches the bud harshly, a pained cry leaving your lips. “Whose are you, Y/N?”
“Yours! I belong to you!” Your hips fight against his hold, wanting more than what he’s giving you.
“That’s right,” he affirms, one of his fingers swiping through your folds, glistening with your arousal in the dimly lit room. “And who am I?”
“My king!” You don’t miss the way his cock twitches at the title, a bead of precum leaking from the angry red head.
Fingers continue to tease your entrance, your pleas echoing in the room. You swivel your hips to try and increase the pressure applied to your clit, but Yoongi pulls away entirely before his hand lands on your exposed cunt, a harsh slap sounding throughout your room. The pain spreads quickly but is replaced by pleasure just as fast, a long drawn out moan escaping you.
“A-ah, fuck,” you whine, trying to close your legs to get away from his grasp.
“Behave for your king,” he commands. Your walls clench when he brings his hand down again, the reaction not going unnoticed by him as he chuckles. “Do you like it when I hit your pretty little clit?” When you fail to answer him his hand comes down again, as your back arches off the bed. “Answer me.”
“Yes! I like it!”
Yoongi scoffs at your answer, almost like he’s disgusted with you, but the way his length shifts between his legs says otherwise. “What do you think the people would say if they knew their future queen was nothing more than a common whore,” he poses the words as a question, and humiliation burns through you. “Look at you, you’re soaking wet after just a couple of hits to your little pussy.”
Fingers drag through your folds, collecting your juices before smearing the digits across your lips. “Taste yourself, love.”
Your tongue darts out from between your lips as you moan. The heady taste of your essence coats your taste buds as Yoongi collects more of it before he rubs it into your nipples, pinching and pulling at the peaks as you whine in need.
“Please, Yoongi, make me feel good.” Your mind wanders to the night he spent eating you out, something that feels so far away now.
“You said that last time too,” he chuckles, feigning confusion as he continues toying with your breasts, a pout on his lips. “Do I not make you feel good?”
“I-I want more.”
He smacks his hand against your chest, admiring the way the mound bounces from the impact. “You’ll take what your king gives you and be grateful for it, slut.”
The way he spits the last word at you makes you clench in need, desperate to be filled. You brush your hips against his erection, whining at the contact before he pushes your hips back down onto the bed.
In contrast to his words though, he slides two of his fingers into you. Slowly, Yoongi begins moving them in and out of your entrance, fucking the digits into you shallowly as you squirm against his hold. It’s not enough to bring you to the edge, but it’s more than enough to have you pleading for more.
“Be quiet, love. If I hear you moan, I’ll stop.”
You can feel your arousal drip down onto the bed and you can hear it when the pads of his fingertips brush against your walls, pushing against the spot that causes your back to arch up every once in a while to keep you on your toes.
True to his words, Yoongi continues like this for what feels like hours. Somewhere along the way he adds a third finger to the mix. He speeds up only to slow down when you moan too loudly for his liking, keeping his fingers still inside you until your walls stop tightening around the digits.
“Please,” you beg, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers when he stops moving them. Tears pool in your eyes in desperation, needing him to give you more. “Make me yours, my king.”
“Fuck.” Faster than your lust addled mind can comprehend, he flips you over on to your hands and knees, palming at the soft flesh of your ass. He slides his length through your sensitive folds, relishing in the moans you reward him with. “I’m going to make you mine. Gonna fuck you so hard that all of Joseon will know it’s me who pleasures you.”
For all his haste, he still has enough sense about him to remember that you have not slept with a man before, and so he sheathes himself in your heat slowly, hissing at how tight you are. He almost loses himself right there, with your cunt squeezing around him in a vice like grip.
Your walls burn as they stretch to accommodate him, not used to having more than two or three fingers. You whine at the discomfort, Yoongi gently stroking your hair and whispering words of reassurance. He stays there, hips pressed firmly against your own waiting for you to adjust to him.
When the pain subsides and the stretch becomes pleasurable, you hesitantly pull off of him until only the head remains, pushing back onto his cock slowly. Gradually, you increase your pace, fucking yourself on him as he allows you to get accustomed to having him inside of you.
“Please,” you whine, shimmying your hips against his pelvis.
“What do you want, love? Tell me how I can pleasure my queen.”
You aren’t sure what you want, but you know you want more of whatever it is. “More,” you whine, looking back at him over your shoulder.
He looks like sin, hair falling over his forehead, scar shining like gold in the warm candlelight. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, as he pulls out of you until just the tip remains buried in you, looking at the way your juices coat his length, dripping onto the blankets beneath you.
“I want more, my king. Please, I need you”
No more is needed before he roughly yanks on your hips, pulling you to meet his own thrusts as a strangled moan claws its way up your throat. He sets a fast pace, balls smacking into your clit every time he forces his member into your wet heat.
“I’m going to show the whole court that you’re my queen. Would you like that?”
You cry out in pleasure when his fingers brush against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, rubbing tight circles around the bud. “Yes!”
“Fuck, turn over. I want to see your face when you come apart on my cock.”
Yoongi pushes your thighs up against your chest in the new position, torn between the way your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts, and the way his member disappears in your walls. In the end, his eyes settle on your chest, admiring the curves of your body as he fucks into you.
“I’m going to put a baby in you,” he grunts. “Would you like that? To know that you’re carrying your king’s child in your womb?” He hisses when he feels your heat clamp down around him. “What a filthy queen I have,” he chuckles condescendingly at you, loving the way your face scrunches up in pleasure. “You’re just a little slut, aren’t you? Desperate to have my cum leaking out of your cunt for days.”
“Yes! I want you to fill me with your seed.” The words leave your lips before you have time to think about what you’re saying. “Put a baby in me, my king.”
“Fuck. Come for me love, let me see you come on my cock.” He releases one of your legs to circle your clit, toying with the bud as you feel your climax wash over you. Your vision goes white as all the strength disappears from your body, Yoongi chasing his own high as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.
The pleasure borders on pain from the oversensitivity when he finally comes, painting your walls white as you continue to spasm around his cock, milking every last drop from him. Slowing his thrusts until they eventually come to a halt, he lets your legs down and brushes the hair away from your face.
Your eyes are glassy as you look at him, a satisfied smile on your face. Yoongi looks at you reverently, burning the image of you into his mind; flushed cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead, your lips parted in a sigh.
“I love you, Yoongi. No matter what.” You reach a hand up to tangle it in his hair, playing with the strands as they fall and brush against your neck, tickling the sensitive skin.
“And I love you, Song Y/N,” he looks down at you, cupping your cheek in his hand with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. “With every fiber of my being and every fragment of my soul, I love you.”
Summary: Tragedy brought you home. Love made you stay. Despite all odds, Namjoon has always been yours.
Werewolf!AU
Pairing: Namjoon/Reader
Warnings: werewolf au, fluff, mild angst, heat sex, breeding kink, namjoon has a big cock ana oop, size kink, mating, brief mention of death
Length: 7.1k
Notes: after almost a year in the making, it’s finally here!! i worked really hard on it so sdjskd please let me know what you think !! <3
.
.
.
There’s a wolf staring at you.
It’s misty. Wisps of fog curl around your wrist, skin pricking as the tendrils dissolve, droplets sliding from your fingertips to soak into the underlay of moss coating the ground.
There is no path here, only one worn through years of treading and the same footsteps sinking into rich soil. Only its eyes are visible, a deep amber hue peering from the thick smog, its body veiled by the equivalent shade.
Its gaze is unyielding, intense yet soft. Unmoving.
“Momma! Mommy, he’s hurting!”
The bundle of fur cradled in your small arms lay in silence, chest barely rising and falling unsteadily as rivets of crimson liquid stained his smoky coat alarmingly fast.
You waddled your way clumsily to the house, your mother stumbling out to the backyard in a panic at your yell with a first aid kit.
“Bring him here,” she beckoned. You placed him down gently, trying your best to keep from jostling him too much, lest the wounds were irritated. Your mother set to work immediately, clearing a work station on the patio tables.
You sniffled, watching as she cleans his injuries. “Is he going to be okay?”
“It’s hard to say, sweetheart. His cuts aren’t too deep, but there is still a chance for infection. We must act quickly.”
You ran to find your father, who’d been napping on the couch. It was a Sunday, the clinic closed and void of any patients.
“Dad! Daddy, come help! There’s a doggy and he’s really hurt! Mommy says she needs the – the t-tweasers?” You fumbled with the word, tentatively testing it out. He groaned, rolling from the sofa as he rubbed his neck. “A dog?” He yawned as he dug around the medical cabinet. He ruffled your hair as he passed, smiling fondly at the anxious look on your face.
“Your mom and I are going to help him, so don’t worry that little head of yours too much, okay?” You nodded, hot on his heels as he stepped out.
You clutched your skirt nervously, restless as you tried to focus on the book you were reading. The pictures failed to cheer you up as they usually did, and you closed it to take another look at the creature sleeping on the counter. Your father had carefully set him into a basket padded with cushioning and pulled a thin blanket of linen over his body. It was summer, warm enough so he wouldn’t need much more to keep comfortable.
It had been hours since they cleaned and dressed his wounds. A particularly long gash ran down his tummy, and your lips had quivered at the sight. The long rays of evening sun casted shadows, your stubborn insistence to take vigil over the puppy lasting until your mother came out again with some lemonade and sandwiches.
“Come inside, sweetie,” she said sympathetically. “He’s not going to get better just by you staring at him. The worst has passed. He’ll need a few weeks to heal fully.”
“Can he sleep with me?” You asked. She chuckled. It was against their policy to allow patients in their own rooms, but she could see how troubled you were. “Sure, baby.”
It took months before the puppy was strong enough to walk. Even then, he limped awkwardly, the abrasion on his calf closing slowly. Half a year passed swiftly, and he grew strong enough to run and jump. Your attachment to him was growing by the day. He seemed just as enamoured by you, never straying too far from your side, pulling at your leg to play with him or snoozing on your lap. He liked licking your cheek, and barked softly whenever he saw a mouse scurrying in the overgrowth.
“Ghost!” His ears perked, tail wagging as he trotted to you. You laughed as he leapt into your arms, sending the two of you sprawling onto the grass.
Just as a year slipped by, so did he.
“Ghost? Ghost!” Your sobs bubbled up, tears clouding your vision as you searched for him, knees scraped and dirty. Your mother put a hand over your shoulder, coaxing you up.
You turned around, giving the yard one last sweep as she led you back in. You wept.
He was gone.
You blink, and the memory fades. Your return your attention to the pair of golden eyes, but they’ve already disappeared.
.
.
.
The cottage is cold. A delicate layer of dust has already collected over the furniture. Picture frames litter the mantle, a family portrait over the centre top. Setting your luggage aside, you shrug off your coat and rummage for cleaning materials underneath the sink. Tossing wood into the fireplace, you start with the timber figurines lining the living room. Your father’s handiwork, for your mother. For every anniversary.
It’s dark when you finish. You think you’ve cried at least thrice as you pack away your mother’s jewellery.
Scrubbing the remains of grime from your body, you settle into your childhood room for the first time in fifteen years. Staring out the window, it’s hard to find sleep. There’s much grief swirling within you, and little means of coping. But you like it here, and you’ve missed it. Your friends had offered to accompany you, to which you declined. This was something you needed to do alone.
Saying goodbye has always been the hardest part, after all.
.
.
.
You dream of him. Ghost, darting through the forest. He’s bigger, now twice your size. You’re older, too. 13, maybe.
He’s as playful as you remember, stopping to sniff every undergrowth and occasionally scratch at a tree. You follow him, tugged by something inexplicable. He leads you to a meadow, a quiet space privy to nothing but your breathing and the gentle whispers of wind. The tiny glen is moonlight dappled, with fireflies flickering like stars.
He pads to the centre of the field, waiting for you patiently, tail flicking slowly. He blinks up at you, head cocked, and then lays down, resting his head on his forearms. Come here, he seems to say. So you do.
Tentatively approaching him, he only watches you with sleepy eyes as you gingerly recline on top of his back. He promptly curls around you, tail coming around to rest protectively over your stomach.
Combing through his fur, you smile as he nudges your hand. His tail thumps happily the moment your nails scratch behind his ears, nearly knocking you breathless. He whines softly as an apology, nosing your palm as he peers up at you sorrowfully.
“It’s okay,” you murmur. A content rumble erupts from his muzzle and he ducks his head under your arm so both are now wrapped firmly around his neck.
You don’t say anything after, cheek pressed against his thick pelt, skin warm as you feel his chest rise and fall rhythmically. The two of you watch the stars twinkle in companionable silence for the remainder of the night.
.
.
.
The fire burns strongly as you wake, though the last time you touched it was hours ago. You feel disoriented, nostalgia aching in your heart. Yet, you’re also oddly comforted by the memory of something sweet.
Grabbing your drawstring bag, you pour some silver coins into it, enough for a quick trip to the market for groceries and some material for the dress you’ve been working on the past week.
A hoarse whimper startles you as you step out of the lodge, and you fall to your knees instantly at the sight of the bloodstained bundle of fur strewn next to your entrance, crawling to it quickly. Upon closer inspection, you realize with a sharp exhale that it’s a wolf—male, the very one that you’d glimpsed at your arrival. He’s massive, out shadowing you easily and in obvious pain by the way it’s panting, barely able to lift its head.
“Hey, hey,” you coo. “It’s going to be okay. Let me help you.” He seems eager to trust you, the way he closes his eyes and slumps, like he’s tired of having to guard its six. Hauling a pail of cool water and the med kit, it’s history remade once more as you wash his wounds and stitch them up. He watches you work, quiet even as you disinfect the deep claw marks.
“Got into a fight, didn’t you?” You say absently as you begin rolling the bandages on his torso. He huffs, warm air ruffling your tied locks as he blinks those gold-rimmed orbs forlornly at you.
“I wonder if Ghost is as big as you.” Running a hand lightly over his unmarred neck, he allows you to stroke him gently. Your palm practically sinks into his fur, thick and soft; his silvery pelt a shockingly gossamer sheen. With difficulty, he shifts, nearly toppling you over in the process, but you steady yourself on your knees as he reveals his stomach.
“No,” you breathe. Your blood runs cold, paling as you reach with shaky fingers to touch the thin scar stretching across the soft line of his tummy. “Ghost?” You say, stunned. He whines faintly, ears flattening as if expecting resentment. “You’re a wolf.”
He lowers his head, expression rather doleful as he puffs out another breath. “You’ve grown so much,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He rolls over, concealing the old wound once more, and paws at the ground at your knees.
“Don’t move so much,” you warn immediately, swiping at your cheeks. You touch his jaw delicately. “I’m not mad, I promise. Just … surprised. In a good way.”
“Can you walk?” Normally you would feel a bit awkward speaking to an entirely different species incapable of similar speech, but the intelligence and wisdom glowing in those tender tawny irises suggest otherwise. He feels familiar, and warm.
He heaves himself up, limping slowly as he shoulders his way through the narrow doorway and staggers onto the centerpiece rug. “Sleep baby,” you murmur, dragging over a thin sheet over him. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, tail swishing leisurely as you move around. “I have to go to the market,” you say as you pour water into a hefty bowl you hauled from the lower cabinets.
Ghost wrinkles his nose at the basin, looking fairly offended as he scowls at the object. “You lost a lot of blood. I know it’s not ideal, but bear with me here,” you say, amused.
He stares at you stubbornly, the thumping against the muffed boards increasing in volume. It takes one glance at those pleading honey-coloured orbs of his for you to cave.
“It’s okay,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t really want to go anyway.” If wolves could grin, you imagine that’s what it would look like. Ghost’s lips pull back, sharp canines glinting in the firelight as his tongue rolls out excitedly. “You really are just like a dog,” you giggle. “But bigger.”
He barks, just once, in defiance. You laugh again, lugging a spare coverlet next to him for a makeshift bed. You lean up to kiss the tip of his nose gently. “Rest up, baby.”
His every exhale ruffles your locks, and his tail stills as you close your eyes.
.
.
.
The first rays of light peek from the horizon just as you rouse at dawn, having slept unexpectedly peacefully. Your nightmares seem to have ceased momentarily, and your mind is clearer than it has been for a long time now. You muse it likely has something to do with Ghost’s presence being a wordless comfort.
Ghost heals much quicker than you’d thought possible. When you peel away the gauze, fully prepared to clean and rebind his wounds, med kit sprawled at your side, you find the cut is no more than a fresh layer of skin.
“How …?” You stroke the tender patch cautiously, testing the depth of damage, but Ghost nuzzles your arm, seemingly unbothered. Examining the area, you realize his fur has also grown back to full. It’s disorienting, like the injury never occurred in the first place.
“Are you well enough to join me?” You ask as you rise to your feet and pull on a clean shirt. The wolf follows, shaking himself out before padding toward the door and taking a seat at the entrance, golden eyes patient as he waits silently.
With a giggle, you scratch under his chin in appreciation, his tail nearly dislodging the flooring beneath him in its intensity. He leans against you heavily when you reach the spot behind his ear, tongue loose as he pants.
“Found your weak spot, huh,” you tease. Ghost lets out a faint whine but remains lifeless against you save for the furious wagging of his tail. “So cute.”
He whimpers when you release him reluctantly. “I’ve gotta change and eat something quickly, and then we can go, okay?”
He huffs and straightens again, struggling to cast the drowsiness from his pelt, managing to look much more alert when he sits up once more.
When the sun is at its peak and you’ve showered, feeling a little more refreshed, and finished the small snack of grapes and apples you’d brought along for your journey, you sling your bag over your shoulder and the two of you set out to the market.
.
.
.
This village is home.
And you’re reminded of it with every step you take into the crowded streets, the cheerful calls of merchandise and a wide assortment of edible goods from foreign lands set up in colourful arrays of stalls, the kind smiles flashed in every direction. You breathe in the familiar scents of traded spice and homemade concoctions alike.
Their gazes are strangely intimate, and you know it is because of the label you wear with the shape of your lips and structure of your cheekbones. You’d left so young, but your family had stayed. For them, this village was everything.
And they remember.
It’s not as painful as you thought it would be. The recognition and quiet sympathy don’t suffocate you like you anticipated. Instead, you feel warm. Ghost is pressed tightly by your side, and the sight of a Grey wolf should both alarm and frighten, but this is no ordinary town. Hidden in the mountains and protected by fog and legend, magic is whispered through generations of bloodlines.
“Hello, dear,” a merchant says. “Interested in some silk threads?” She’s old, deep crinkles at the edge of her eyes as she beams up at you. Still so lively, despite her age and deteriorating body. You like her.
“Hello,” you say shyly. “Would you have any spider silk on hand, by any chance?”
The trader brightens. “Of course! One moment.” Disappearing behind artistically beaded curtains, you wait patiently at the side, one hand absently scratching Ghost behind his ears as you peruse the charms and accessories on display.
“Princess. It’s so very good to see you again.” Startled, your fingers still, head raising slowly. Your companion seems to sense your uneasiness and nuzzles your palm as if to reassure you the newcomer is of no immediate threat.
“I’m sorry,” you say, puzzled. “Do I know you?”
He grins. “You don’t remember? I’m hurt. I thought we’d be friends forever. Granted, I was 6 at the time, but we had so much fun.”
Ebony-dark hair, plush lips, eyes that slit into crescent moons when he smiled. A silver chain rests at the dip of the dangerously low v of his cotton tee. Wrists adorned with more silver, as well as several rings.
“J-Jimin?” You blink, stunned. “Oh my God. It’s been so long.” He pulls you into him the instant you’re on your feet.
“I know. You look as beautiful as ever,” he says fondly when you pull back. “We’ve missed you. Why didn’t you ever write?”
You avoid the thinly veiled curiosity in his look, hands sliding down his arms to grip his elbows. Ghost presses himself closer, pushing his head onto your upper thigh as he lets out a quiet huff. “You’re so handsome now, Chimmy. You’ve grown up so well. I see you’ve been running with the pack. Beta, right? Mother told me.”
Jimin takes your hands gently. “Noona, it’s just me.”
You stare at his chest, tracing the dark ink that flaring across his ivory skin absently.
“Princess, please.” He tips your chin up, amber orbs soft and unguarded as he pleads. They can’t. They can’t.
“I can’t.” You close your eyes. “Please, Jimin. Don’t ask.”
“It’s safe here. You know that, right? We would never let anything happen to you,” he says tightly.
“I know,” you draw away, resting your hand on Ghost’s massive head lightly. “That’s not what I’m worried about, Jiminie. No one wants to talk about it because they trust you, but the treaty needs to be renegotiated before the blood moon rises.”
“Then come back,” Jimin insists, stepping closer. Your companion rumbles, though remains immobile.
You take a breath. “It’s not that easy.”
“He’s your mate.”
“Not by choice. He doesn’t really want me. I’m a means to an end, Jimin,” you exhale tiredly. “I always have been. It’s why I left. At least for a little while, I could pretend my life could be something more than just destiny.”
“___, please. You know what happens if the full moon comes and goes and you don’t bond with him. The treaty will end. The bloodline … it’s what keeps this place alive.” He’s imploring you, sympathetic but resolute.
“I don’t want this,” you say in a small voice. “He deserves to be happy, too.”
“What makes you think you wouldn’t make him?” It makes you pause for a moment, surprise flickering, and Jimin smiles wryly.
“Give this a chance, noona,” he says. “You are more suited for each other than you think. Fate is not a fool. You were chosen for a reason.”
From his pocket, he opens your palm, dropping the item and closing your fingers over it firmly. “Give him a chance. He might just be everything you never knew you needed.”
“Sorry for the delay, dear!” You jerk at the sound, slipping the object in your bag before turning on your heel. The merchant makes her way over, waving a roll of thin silk in her hand.
“It was in the back shelves. My assistant being mischievous again,” she explains, chuckling. You manage a polite smile. If she catches your sudden change of mood, she doesn’t comment, simply going about wrapping your goods cheerfully.
When you glance back, Jimin’s gone.
Ghost whines. You nod. “Thank you. How much?”
.
.
.
It’s quiet.
A cool breeze ruffles your locks, the lawn freshly mowed. Morning dew sparkles from the afternoon glow, the sound of grass and the odd leaf crumpling beneath your shoes.
Ghost is silent as he pads next to you, steps light despite the sheer mass of his body. He’s keeping close to you, the extraordinary heat emanating from him a wordless comfort against the chill settling deep in your bones.
You stop.
You exhale shakily, bending to gently set the bouquet at the foot of the grave.
Ghost sweeps the area behind you with his tail, brushing away debris and droplets. You crack a tiny smile at the very humanlike gesture, rubbing his ears in gratitude before taking a seat.
He wraps himself around you, circling twice before settling, resting his chin on his forepaws.
You lean into him, and Ghost whimpers lowly, nudging you.
With a watery sigh, you bury your face in his fur, sobs muffled by the density and his tail curls around your stomach, a reassuring weight.
You cry until you’re empty and all that’s left is you and him.
.
.
.
The skies are pink when you leave.
The sun peeks from over the horizon, dipping low. Your gait is slow, the mental exhaustion pulling on your physical form heavily.
Ghost trots beside you, echoing your steps, but pushes before you to stop at the foot of the entrance.
His head cocks to the side, golden eyes impossibly wise yet tender.
You scratch under his chin lightly, cracking a smile. “I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”
The wolf licks a long stripe up your cheek, nosing your jaw. You kiss the bridge of his nose.
“Thank you.”
.
.
.
Ghost weaves himself effortlessly back into your life.
He stays with you, guards you. Sleeps at the foot of your bed, keeping you grounded on nights sleep escaped you.
He’s there when the nightmares threaten to consume you, gently pawing at you, barking quietly. Your anguish was powerful, but Ghost never baulked.
Eventually the dreams faded. Your grief, like a storm, passed. The sorrow lessened, and breathing became easier.
Princess, still whispered but less so. With the White Wolf guarding your back, they wonder why you’re trying to run. No one prods, but you know they wonder.
The days continue to slip by peacefully. Despite this, you know time is ticking. The deadline is drawing near and you’re terrified.
You know they’re going to try to find you.
He’s going to try to find you.
And you have no idea what to do.
.
.
.
Your next trip to the market, the sweet farmer you’ve been building a steady friendship with is absent.
“He’s out sick,” her replacement explains. She’s youthful, likely around your age. She’s beautiful, with long cerulean hair and cold green eyes, an uncommon set of characteristics found in your village. She’s not from here.
Ghost is tense beside you, ears flattened. She leers at him subtly. Your skin prickles at her smile.
Your lips quirk and you buy one bushel of strawberries from her.
“Meat?” You ask instead, glancing down at him. Ghost blinks.
Idly, you wonder if her presence here means any threat.
It’s not your place for concern, you remind yourself. Because it isn’t.
Not yet, anyway.
.
.
.
The season is turning when he comes.
You wake to a warm, hard body pressed against you.
He’s gorgeous, with silky silver hair and a chiselled jaw line. Asleep, the broad expanse of his bare chest rises and falls rhythmically, an arm resting over your stomach.
In one swift maneuver, you flip him over, pressing the blade against his neck. “Where. Is. Ghost.”
He doesn’t flinch, eyes fluttering open to reveal beautiful molten gold irises. “Namjoon,” he says. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” His voice is deep, rumbly. Like velvet.
He shifts, hands up placidly when you push the blade harder in warning. You let him pull the sheets down to reveal his naked abdomen, where a long, healed laceration sits.
You falter, knife slipping from your grasp. He catches it easily, setting it to the side. His piercing gaze never drifts.
You get off him, move to your wardrobe. Throw him some old clothes. Your father’s, likely to be a bit loose on him. You hear him fumbling with them, mattress creaking as he stands.
You remain silent as you pull a shawl over yourself.
“You’re angry.”
He’s behind you, that supernatural heat radiating off him warming you despite your inner turmoil. Worry seeps into his tone.
He reaches for your hand, but you step away quickly. “Don’t touch me,” you say. Hiding your trembling fingers buried in your elbows.
“Please don’t push me away. I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know how else to—to approach you. To see beyond the labels.” Desperation. Frustration. “Please, Princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” you say automatically. Your feet lead you to the kitchen. To start your morning routine. Pulling out ingredients, striking a match to start the stove.
“Princ—___. Please. I—I was wrong, I know. I just—I wanted to be here for you. This was the only way you would ever let me in.” He follows you. Like a puppy, like he’s always done. All his life.
“When I was gone—did you ever—did you ever try with anyone else?” You ask bluntly, turning around to meet his gauge his reaction.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Yes—yes, I tried. That’s what you wanted all along, right? But it doesn’t work. All I could think about was you. Even—even with my ruts. Nothing worked, nothing helped. I suffered, ___. It was torture being without you, all these years.”
“Not for me,” you say matter-of-factly before returning to your task. You concentrate on chopping onions to avoid the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. You’re a fucking sadist, you tell yourself grimly. All you’ve ever done is hurt him. Even though he deserves the world.
“And … and you? Did you … did you—try?” He’s hesitant. He doesn’t really want an answer, but he wants to know. He wants to pretend the knowledge of his won’t kill him.
“Yes, and it works for me. I can’t feel the bond,” you say. “I’m not one of you, remember? All human, one hundred percent of the time.”
He thinks he’s going to kneel over with how powerful the pain crashing over him feels. It almost cripples him, but he also knows—
“You’re lying.”
You stop. “No, I’m not.” The cutting resumes.
“You’re cooking for me. Historically, females have accepted the mating bond through a demonstration of food,” he says casually.
You stare at the plates.
The table is set for two.
.
.
.
The atmosphere is tense, the silence broken only by the occasional clink of silverware.
“___—”
“Namjoon, please.” You drop the fork you’re holding. “I don’t want to talk about this. There’s no discussion. I never wanted this, and I never will. End of story. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.”
“There is no one else. I don’t think you understand. We can only choose once. That’s it. And my wolf chose you. I chose you.” He sounds like he’s choking up, voice caught in his throat. “I’m not asking for a definite answer. I just want you to try. I know you can feel the bond between us. I can hear your heart. It’s fluttering.” Like a hummingbird in your rib cage, eager to take flight, he wants to say. He is not good at wooing, has never needed to before. He has wanted, before, despite his position, personality, looks, everything. Despite all that he is, he has never wanted anything more than what he is, and yet here he sits, begging you to take all that he can be for a mere chance.
“Have you ever thought maybe, just maybe, all of this wasn’t your choice? That we’re simply meant to be because of destiny?” You say bitterly. The bigger part of you wants to say yes, yes, all I’ve ever wanted to say is yes, but what if all of this is a mistake, what if I can’t be the one you need, what if—
“I don’t care,” he says fiercely. “I want you. I know I want you. Every fibre of my being needs you. Close to me, always. You spirit, your soul. It calls to mine.”
“You don’t even know me,” you shoot back. Weaker. His eyes gleam.
“But I want to,” he insists. “I want to know everything about you. I already know your heart. It is gentle and kind and giving and that is enough for me. Please. I can be good for you, I promise.”
Your chair screeches loudly as you stand, half-finished plate in hand. Your hunger eludes you again.
He watches you warily.
You take a breath.
“The first time—why did you go?” Voice timid. Scared. –Because you’re nothing, you were never anything, can never be anything and—
“To keep you safe.” He’s firm. You risk a glance. His eyes are honest. He’s never lied to you before. Until now.
You cover your forgotten meal with a cloth.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He perks up, disbelief and excitement sparkling. He can hardly dare to believe. Finally, finally—
“Yes. But slow. I don’t know—I still don’t know if I’m ready for this,” you say, leaning against the counter as you turn.
He rushes over, nearly tripping over the leg of the table, exhilarated and ecstatic.
“Yes—yes. Of course.” He skids to a stop, hands hovering near you, remembering the lines as he begins to withdraw, looking embarrassed at his childish enthusiasm.
“Kiss me.” You dare. He flushes. “I—I do not think that’s slow, exactly—”
“Namjoon.”
He cups your cheek gingerly, palms so large they engulf your entire face, dipping his head. You say his name again, breath sweet as it ghosts across his lips.
Kisses you softly.
You grip his shirt, swallowing his moan when his lips crash over yours again, dragging his tongue over your seam.
He parts your mouth easily, devours you, one hand braced around your waist where he crowds you against the marble counter.
Then you make a noise.
Namjoon groans, reluctantly tearing himself away, the movement sluggish and impossibly difficult given the way his body refuses to unglue itself from you.
He buries his face in your neck, suckling your skin tenderly.
“Slowly,” he rasps.
Your breathing is laboured and you nod against his chest, dazed. “Yeah.”
.
.
.
“I see you took my advice.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling tonight?” You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to throw him a look as you continue patting in the soil. You know he’s sporting his signature smug grin.
“This is patrolling. It’s part of my route.” You hum, determined to engage in as little talk as possible. It’s already enough mortification to walk through the village with the tall, handsome leader by your side, with the knowing smiles and fond congratulations. You know they mean well, and this is a big deal, but—it’s a lot to take in. You’ve never enjoyed being the centre of attention. And now you’re exactly that.
“Jimin, don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Namjoon’s voice cuts in, annoyed.
The Beta pouts. “Way to ruin my fun, Joonie.”
“Jimin.” The warning tone has him sighing.
“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you lovebirds be, but remember! I get to name your first pup,” he calls as he jogs off.
“I hate him,” Namjoon says flatly, watching him leave with his arms crossed.
“No, you love him. He’s just being nosy because he cares about you,” you correct, smiling as you stretch. Dropping a kiss on his cheek, you tug him inside. “It’s time for dinner.”
Namjoon trails after you, glowing.
.
.
.
He never discusses pack business with you.
He knows this relationship you’ve been building together is still preliminary, still just a trial run. It’s going well—so well, in fact, that he’s terrified something will happen that’ll flip all of it on its head. Things usually do, because he attracts disaster. He always has.
He’s never been happier. He feels at peace with you, content and bursting at the seams with every word, every smile, every touch.
His wolf is quiet, tamed at your very presence. Basking in your attention.
He’s just—so whole.
So it’s only natural, he supposes, that he’s the one that destroys it.
.
.
.
It’s ironic that it’s raining.
You can hardly tell if it’s your tears or the rain that blurs your vision.
It doesn’t matter much, you think, as you stare at the scene of Namjoon kissing someone else.
Not just someone else—the girl from the stall. The one with blue hair and bright eyes.
Prettier. Smarter. Everything. Liar.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Your basket is dropped, somewhere, lost. Where should you go?
“___, please! I didn’t kiss her, she’s set this up so you’d reject me—so I’d have no choice but to go to her, but I won’t!” He’s loud, frantic, following you again.
A door, a door, your door. You fumble with the key.
“I don’t care. I don’t care,” you chant, teeth chattering. Cold. You’re soaked to the bone.
“I love you,” he breaks, a sob catching. His voice is strangled, throaty. “I love you. Please believe me. I don’t—I can’t do this life without you. Please. Don’t leave. Don’t leave.”
“Leave, Namjoon. I never want to see your face again. I hate you,” you say hollowly.
“You don’t mean that. You don’t mean that. Say you don’t mean that. Please. Please,” he repeats, crying earnestly now. He looks so small, clothes clinging to him, expression fearful and miserable. Hunched into himself. Reaching out for you.
“Stay away from me,” you grit. The lock clicks. His eyes widen, panicked. “No—no, no, no, no! Don’t—don’t shut me out, don’t do this, please, please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
You slide to the ground, shivers wracking your body as you listen to him sob on the other side of the door.
Time loses meaning, the water from your clothes creating a puddle as you sit there, huddled.
He doesn’t stop whispering apologies until Jimin comes to collect him an hour later, dragging him away as he fights. You can hear him shouting and struggling, but Jimin’s firm, hauling him away.
When all that’s left is the quiet patter of rain on your rooftop, their voices fading into silence, you get up and draw yourself a bath.
.
.
.
He’s so weak. You make him weak. His role as the pack leader, his senses, rationale, everything flies out the window when it comes to you. Everything he’s built the past decade, the person he’s become.
“Jimin, I fucked up,” he says wretchedly. The empty crater is growing, expanding each second he’s away from you. His wolf howls, the anguish too raw for him to bear much longer.
“You need to prep for your rut,” his Beta says instead. Jimin paces restlessly, rubbing his temples as he watches Namjoon bury his face in his hands. He’s never seen their leader so broken, it terrifies him.
“I—I need to see her,” Namjoon says suddenly, standing abruptly. Jimin rushes to the door, blocking the entrance.
“Now is not the time,” Jimin warns. “You’re entering your pre-rut. You could hurt her. She’s not ready.”
Namjoon sucks in a shuddery sigh. And then, “Jungkook.”
A beat.
“Yeah, hyung?”
“Set up the chains. And have Yoongi stand guard. Make sure I don’t get out,” Namjoon orders.
Jungkook meets Jimin’s gaze briefly. The Beta nods and he disappears from the room.
Namjoon collapses back in his seat, staring down at his hands silently.
The group looks at him worriedly. Jimin merely shakes his head, lips pursed. They’ve never seen their leader look so defeated before.
“It’s fine. It’ll be fine. They’ll talk it out and she’ll understand. She’s just hurting right now,” Jimin says.
But his tone wavers, uncertainty seeping in. He doesn’t know.
.
.
.
You wake to the sounds of someone pounding at your door.
The moon is high, your camisole thin and your exhaustion wearing thin.
“Jimin, why are you—” Rubbing your eyes, you pull it open, only to be shoved into an overheating body. You let out a surprised gasp, stumbling back as you struggle to support the weight.
“Wha—Namjoon? What are you—what are you doing here? Why are you so warm?” He’s burning up, feverish. Your palm meets bare skin, sweat coating his chest. Half-naked and delirious, Namjoon slurs, “I—I have to … apologize. Can’t lose you, not like—like this, she did this, I don’t want her, I don’t care about her. I need you. I need you. Princess … Princess, come home.”
“Are you—are you sick?” You nearly topple over as he crumples on your bed, silver locks plastered to his forehead. Something tinkles, and you pale at the sight of broken chains around his wrists.
“You’re ignoring … ignoring me. Don’t, please,” he pants, sitting up with difficulty. He rakes a hand through his hair, eyes bright but hazy, golden irises a mere thin ring. It’s so hard to … to talk, to think with this heat running through his veins.
“Namjoon …”
“I know—I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not true! I didn’t kiss her back, I pushed her away, I—I—I—” he’s babbling, he’s losing it and you grab his face.
“I know,” you say simply. Namjoon closes his eyes, sagging in your hold as relief floods through him, the deliria fading momentarily.
“I know. I just … it hurt. I thought—maybe I was right. That your feelings for me aren’t real, that you’re just … settling.” He frowns, shaking his head rapidly as he takes your hands. “No, no that’s not true. I’ve always loved you, since we met, since we were kids.”
“As Ghost, I … I saw your compassion, your humanity,” he rasps. “I didn’t mean to chase you away. I didn’t even know what my feelings for you would entail back then.”
“No … I was being stupid. I was scared,” your gaze drops. “I’m sorry. I should’ve waited to hear you out. I was just afraid that you’d only wanted me out of convenience.”
“___. I love you. I want to know you, if you’d let me,” he says shyly. He’s flushed, the heat bleeding back, but he can’t lose focus.
“Complete the treaty, then,” you say breathlessly. You don’t want to run anymore. For once, you want to face your fate head-on. You step back, pulling your top off in one fluid motion.
Namjoon freezes, wide-eyed. “You … you don’t know what you’re saying. What that means,” he croaks. He leans back, struggling to breathe.
Your core clenches at the sight of him, silver hair raked back, muscles taut and rippling beneath smooth caramel skin. He’s beautiful.
“Are you sure? You know what happens after, right? You’ll become my Luna, the Pack’s Princess … are you sure you want this?” He’s still holding himself back, likely by his sheer will at this point. Ruts are powerful, even more so when he’s the Alpha.
“Yes,” you say, straddling him. His hands feel so large where they come to rest at your hips, squeezing gently.
With him, you feel safe.
“I want you … I’ve been waiting for you, all this time. I want you to be my mate. To be mine.” You can feel his length, hard and throbbing, beneath his slacks. His kind has always been well-endowed, and you can feel his tip nudging at your centre.
“Take me, then,” you whisper, nosing his jaw. Namjoon groans, hold tightening before he slams you against the mattress.
“You drive me crazy,” he growls, ripping your panties off impatiently with his teeth. Shoving down his jeans, he wastes no time aligning himself. You’re already so wet, and he preps you easily, sliding two fingers in and scissoring you gingerly. Your spine locks, the pleasure flooding your system like a forgotten drug.
You gasp his name and he nips at your throat, violet flowers blooming with every touch.
“Wanna breed you, make you mine, fill you to the brim with my seed,” he moans, hips jerking as he enters you, the feeling of your walls clenching around him sends his head spinning.
“N-Namjoon,” you mewl, clawing at his back helplessly as he punctures every word with a thrust. He sets a punishing pace, already edged and desperate. Having you splayed out like this, so ethereal and so wholly his, awakens something primal, darker. His wolf demands to be unchained.
“I can’t think, can’t focus on anything but fucking you senseless and knocking you up with a litter of my pup,” his voice is guttural, so deep you know it’s not quite the man you’ve gotten to know the past few weeks.
“Hello, Luna,” he drawls. His eyes are flecked with silver, lips curled into a lazy smirk. The other side of the same coin.
“Ghost,” you murmur, smiling. You reach up to stroke his cheek, and he nuzzles your palm, turning to kiss it gently.
His touch is sweeter, loving. The frenzy is lost for the moment, the heat and the need dissipating as he licks into your mouth eagerly. He exhales, cock twitching inside of you as he fucks into you slowly.
“With this vow, we are bound. In sickness and in health, to protect and to cherish. Let the moon be our witness,” he breathes, dragging his fangs over the delicate skin of your neck.
You hold him close as he marks you, lapping at your blood as you cry out softly.
Forevermore, he wants to say, but he refrains because though it’s part of the vow, it’s still too early, too much.
For now, this is enough.
.
.
.
You lose track of time after that. They switch periodically, taking turns fucking you into oblivion before waking you with their mouth on your breast, suckling hard as their fingers tease your clit. Between the sheets, they learn to worship every crevice of your body, how to make you sing and sigh and moan so beautifully.
You take breaks only to drink water and to feed each other pieces of fruit and bread. Showers become pointless after he takes you against the wall twice before falling back onto the bed for a third and fourth.
It’s dawn when he’s finally burned through most of his rut.
“Who was that girl?” Namjoon hums, fingers sliding through your locks as you trace figures on his bare chest absently.
You’re exhausted but glowing, and he can’t stop smiling.
“From a neighbouring pack. They wanted me to choose her instead, to solidify an alliance. We already had one, they were just being greedy. She knew about you and tried to sabotage me. Don’t worry, I had Jin take care of it,” he kisses your nose. “You know I only want you, right?”
You nod, cheeks colouring.
“It’s only ever been you.”
.
.
.
“And the bell?”
Jimin grins, twirling the spatula in his hand. “It’s the one Joon gave to you the first night he met you. He didn’t just pick it up out of nowhere, you know. It’s like a family heirloom. Only his mate can wield it and only he can hear it.”
“Where’d you find it? I thought I lost it when I moved.” The bell sways silently where it dangles from the red string.
“You didn’t,” he says simply, flipping the pancake.
“Huh.”
“___! Princess, are you okay?” Namjoon comes barrelling through the door, skidding to a stop in front of you with wide, panicked eyes.
“Jimin,” you say slowly. “Just how sensitive is this bell?”
“I wouldn’t use it. Like, ever, unless you’re about to die or you want those flaming hot cheetos when you’re carrying,” Jimin answers matter-of-factly.
Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.
Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)
Warnings: smut | talk of ownership (reader is tae’s pet human) | (eventual) daddy long legs syndrome | masturbation (m) | tae goes into heat | dubcon because of the heat | somewhat (?) unhealthy relationship
Word count: 10.7k
A/N: Did this girl bang out 3000-odd words in one night so that she could post it before Chinese New Year so that she could reach 888 followers by CNY? Yes. Yes she did. I hope you guys enjoy this, and please share and follow for more if you liked it!!
Also, I don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask. This story is cross-posted on ao3 (link to account on my blog) so you can subscribe there.
Series index
You’d learned years ago what Taehyung was like in the weeks leading up to his heat. Overly moody, grumpy, and most of all, hungry. It was probably his body trying to load up on calories before five or so days where there was intense physical exertion without much opportunity to eat.
It had never been an awkward thing for you – after all, werewolf heat was a basic part of their biology, so no one made a big deal out of it. And since they never said anything about your own cycle, you afforded them the same courtesy, just taking it in your stride and doing your best to make it easier on them.
So it wasn’t surprising to you when one day in the middle of winter, Taehyung wolfed down (ha) his breakfast at twice his usual speed and then started looking furtively over at your plate. Sighing, you just pushed it towards him and went to make yourself something else. You made a mental note to make more food tomorrow, and braced yourself for the coming few weeks, where he would be alternately clingy and grumpy – or, interestingly enough, both at the same time.
His heats were never a big deal for you – if he had a heat partner, you mostly stayed out of his way, and stayed with the other boys instead. They were always more than happy to spend a whole week spoiling you and getting cute cuddles. If he didn’t, you usually ended up being the one to take care of him since the others had their own schedules and were out of the house most days. It wasn’t anything much – you just checked in on him once in a while, made sure he was eating and drinking water, and maybe wiped him down if he was too sweaty.
You didn’t expect that anything would change this year, although obviously you’d missed his last two heats, which he’d spent in the military facility. In preparation for his heat, you went to the supermarket and stocked up on food that would be easy for him to eat, like fruit and granola bars, making sure to pick his favourite brand which was, obviously, an extremely fancy and overpriced one.
While you continued your preparations for his heat, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, Taehyung was an absolute mess. Ever since his preheat started, he’d been racking his brains for a solution to the problem that wouldn’t arouse your suspicion, and coming up empty. There was no way he could get rid of you for a week without you figuring out something was up, since you knew he didn’t have a heat partner and it had never been a thing before for you to leave.
Everything was, of course, made more complicated by the fact that the closer he got to his heat, the more he didn’t want you to leave. He would wake up in the middle of the night wrapped around you, his face tucked into your neck and his hands gripping your waist possessively, and he would be burning up, panting for you.
You, of course, didn’t suspect a thing, and it truly was a testament to how comfortable you were with him that you weren’t noticing anything amiss. It really was remarkable how much could go over your head if you weren’t looking for it. If nothing else, the fact that he’d taken good enough care of you over the years that you were so complacent and comfortable around him was slight comfort. He knew your time at the shelter hadn’t been the best, and he was pleased that he’d managed to earn your trust, even if it did increase his guilt at taking advantage of it now.
His last hope, that he was clinging on to by a thread, was that since his heat was intended for the purpose of breeding, maybe he wouldn’t fixate on you. After all, you were human – you should be incompatible with him in that way. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to go on.
Although really, anyone could have told him that that was a stupid plan. But since he’d refused to let anyone know what was going on, there was no one around to shake some sense into him.
His heat hit while he was at the studio. It had been a bad idea to go to work today, he knew it when he took three bites of the giant breakfast you’d cooked and turned his nose up at the rest of it, but they were starting to record their new song and he’d wanted to be there.
Unfortunately, his enthusiasm meant that when his heat hit in the afternoon, he was in the studio instead of comfortably waiting at home. The bright lights and sheer number of scents overwhelmed his senses, and he ended up curled in a corner of the room, desperately closing his eyes and trying to shut the world out, his head between his knees. His ears flicked repeatedly, before laying flat against his head in distress.
“Shit… we need to get him home,” Yoongi said, watching him groan pitifully, but when they tried to coax him to move, he refused, completely non-functional by this point and so uncomfortable that he couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Jimin tried to sit with him, hoping that his familiar scent would block out some of the harsher scents in the room, like the floor cleaner, but Taehyung just groaned and turned his face away, burying it in his shoulder. The rest of them looked on worriedly – his heat symptoms had never been this bad before.
Left without any other option, Namjoon called you, hoping that the familiar scent of home would soothe Taehyung enough to stop being a moaning mess on the floor of their studio long enough to go home and ride out the heat.
You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Hearing that Taehyung was in trouble spurred you to all but fly out of your house, speeding all the way to the studio in his extra car that he never let you drive. It was lucky that you’d learned how to drive in Geochang, you thought as you zipped into the parking lot at the BigHit building and raced up to the studio.
You burst into the room dramatically, panting from your exertion, and immediately zeroed in on Taehyung, who seemed to be feeling a little better than what you’d been led to believe, if the way he’d sat up and was looking at you was any indicator. His ears perked up too, indicating that he was no longer as distressed as he’d been just a minute ago.
“Hey,” you said softly as you approached slowly, not wanting to freak him out since his animal instincts were closer to the surface than usual. And, if you were being honest, the way his gaze fixated on you was almost predatory, triggering your flight instincts. Reassuring yourself that Taehyung would never hurt you, you continued to inch closer to him.
“How you doing, Tae-oppa?” you asked softly, getting on your knees next to him and pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the touch, and you wondered at his over-the-top reaction. Just how deep was he into his heat?
You made to pull your hand back, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort than necessary, but his hand shot up and grabbed your wrist. “Y/n…” he shuddered as he breathed your name. “You came,” he continued, looking up at you far more intensely than you thought the situation warranted, his long fingers stroking your wrist gently.
Hesitantly, you replied, “Uhh, yeah, Namjoon-oppa called me to come get you. Come on, let’s get you home,” you urged, trying to pull your hand away, but he tightened his grip around your wrist and made that impossible. You raised your brow at him, wondering why he insisted on staying in that corner instead of going home where he had pajamas, nice soft sheets on his bed, and could draw the curtains so the light didn’t hurt his eyes, but he stood up quite easily without letting go of you and started tugging you out of the room.
“Uh, okay then,” you mumbled, utterly confused now. When Namjoon had called you, he’d been almost panicked, describing what bad shape Taehyung was in and getting you all worried, but the man in front of you seemed completely fine. A little off-kilter, maybe, but that was only to be expected since he was going through heat, after all.
“Bye, oppas!” you said, waving at them as Taehyung pulled on your wrist, leading you down the hall and towards the elevator.
“Well, you look pretty good for someone in heat,” you told him as you waited for it to arrive, looking him up and down assessingly. “When Namjoon-oppa called me he was so panicked, and I freaked out too, but he must have been exaggerating,” you chattered on to fill the silence. You understood that Taehyung wasn’t really in the mood to make conversation right now, but somehow his intense gaze made the quiet feel a little uncomfortable.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and your attention was momentarily taken away from Taehyung, so you didn’t see the way he shuddered. It wasn’t that he was feeling better, it was that his heat had found a target, and all that shaky, general horniness and misery had turned into laser focus on you. You walked into the elevator with that little bounce in your step, and he followed after you, almost stalking you with how predatory his gait and gaze were.
You stopped and turned around in the middle of the lift, your eyes lifting habitually to the display on top of the doors, but Taehyung didn’t stop walking, bumping against you and causing you to drop your gaze to him. You gasped at the hungry expression on his face, but it didn’t deter him from backing you up against the wall. You squeaked in surprise as your back hit the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs, and in the second that it took you to get your bearings back, he’d moved his hands from the wall on either side of your shoulders to your waist, pulling you tightly to him as he buried his nose in your neck.
You just about jumped out of your skin when you felt his erection pressing against you, and your mind immediately leapt to work rationalizing it away. He was in heat, it was normal for him to have a boner, and it definitely had nothing to do with you, you tried to convince yourself. He was scenting you because you smelled familiar, like home, and it was comforting for him.
Trying not to squirm away in discomfort so you could help him, you stroked his hair in what you thought was a soothing gesture. “Tae-oppa, you okay?” you asked softly.
He groaned in response. “You smell so good,” he said, sniffing you aggressively as he pressed you into the wall. You gulped and looked up at the numbers flashing on the screen, indicating that you were close to the basement now. The moment the elevator door opened, you pulled away under the guise of leaving the elevator, and hurried to the car.
Taehyung insisted that he wanted to take the car he’d driven here back home, as it was more comfortable, but then refused to hand you the keys so you could drive, instead forcing you to fish them out of his front pocket. He’d boxed you in with his body against the car while you’d done it, too, staring at you so intently that it made your face heat as you averted your gaze, trying to grab his keys without any accidents.
When the keys were finally in your hands, you slipped into the driver’s seat, trying to avoid staring at Taehyung as he went around to the other side of the car and slid gracefully into the passenger seat. You didn’t know what was going on, but you weren’t prepared for any of this, and it was making you slightly uncomfortable, especially because you couldn’t be sure that you didn’t like it. As inappropriate and wrong as all of this was, as much as you knew that this was just because of his heat and to entertain any fantasies would be taking advantage of him in this vulnerable state, there was a part of you that felt a sliver of interest. That, under all the fear and discomfort, had thrilled at having
As you started the car, you studiously ignored Taehyung. He huffed and undid the top few buttons on his shirt, then fiddled with the seat so that he was in a more comfortable reclining position. Your mind raced as you drove home – he’d never acted like this with you before, and you wondered if he was okay. The heat seemed to be worse than in previous years, and he must be really out of it by now. Was it even possible for him to get through this heat without a partner?
At a red light, you snuck a glance over at him, relieved to see that his eyes were closed and he seemed to have fallen into a light doze. That was good, you thought, your heart warming at seeing his cute sleeping face. He should get some rest while he could, because it seemed like this heat would be hard on him. Your heart squeezed – it seemed unfair that hybrids had to go through this, and you wondered why on earth your ancestors had created hybrids this way.
After parking the car, you looked over at him and bit your lip. You didn’t really want to wake him up now that he seemed to be sleeping rather comfortably, but unfortunately there was no way that you would be able to carry a fully grown hybrid back to his apartment, so reluctantly, you reached over to shake him awake.
“Tae-oppa?” you called quietly. “We’re home.”
He stirred and looked at you with half-closed eyes, before nodding listlessly, and you felt like the scum of the earth for even entertaining the thought that his earlier actions were an advance, and especially for that tiny bit of arousal that you’d experienced feeling his erection dig into your belly earlier. He was clearly in a vulnerable position, and here you were, misinterpreting his actions and taking advantage of him by enjoying what his hormones were making him do.
It would do you well to remember that it was your ancestors who had made him like this. In a way, it was kind of your fault that he had to go through it, and you promised him silently that you would do whatever it took to help him through this.
You slid out of the car, then hurried over to the other side to help him out. He seemed a little woozy and weaker than normal, but otherwise fine, and even managed to get himself back to the apartment without any difficulty. A light sheen of sweat coated him by the time you’d reached the apartment, though, and he made to go straight to the bedroom, but you managed to coax him to take a shower first since it wasn’t likely that he would get another one before his heat ended.
“Tae-oppa?” you called as he was headed into the bathroom, already stripping his shirt off.
He grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t turn around or stop.
“Do you want me to call someone to help you with your heat? Maybe Minhee-unnie, or Haeun-unnie?” you suggested some of his previous heat partners, girls he’d hooked up with regularly in the past. There were also services that provided heat partners, but you didn’t know if anyone would be available on such short notice.
Taehyung thought about it. It would probably be smart to find a partner to ride this heat out – it was hitting far stronger than he’d anticipated and he could scarcely think straight, especially now that he was in the apartment where your scent was so incredibly intense and mixed so thoroughly in with the smell of home – but the thought of having a heat partner strangely made him feel almost sick.
“No, it’s okay,” he responded brusquely, too out of it to temper his tone, and closed the door behind him in the bathroom.
Shivering, he stripped out of the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the handle to the coldest setting possible. He hissed and growled in displeasure as the ice cold water hit his skin, but he knew it was necessary. He was burning up, way too hot for a usual heat, and even in his compromised state of mind, he knew that this could be dangerous if he didn’t cool down, and quickly.
The cold shower didn’t do much for the desire raging through him, though, and he rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall and groaned. He was completely losing it, he could tell, and probably terrorizing you. He felt like an awful owner. You were so innocent and good, coming to get him from the studio, and he’d responded by basically assaulting you in the elevator earlier.
“Fuck!” he growled, slamming his fist into the wall. Even knowing that he was garbage wasn’t enough to stop him from recalling how amazing you’d smelled, how soft you’d felt under his hands, the way you’d melted against the press of his body in the elevator. You always smelled good to him, especially since he’d been discharged from the military, but today it seemed different. Better. The scent emanating from you was just slightly warmer, sweeter, spicier than the residual scent you’d left all over the apartment, including in the bathroom. In his heat-addled state, he couldn’t figure out why, but it was messing with his ability to keep his head on straight in a big way.
With another growl of frustration, he wrapped his hand around his cock, knowing that there was no way he could go back out into the apartment in the state he was in. It was fast and rough, and his orgasm was unsatisfying, barely enough to take the edge off the all-consuming hunger that bordered on pain, but he felt his mind clear just enough that he remembered all the reasons why bending his pet human over was a bad idea.
He got out of the shower and dried himself off perfunctorily, wrapping the towel around his waist because he hadn’t brought in fresh clothes. He was collecting his dirty clothes to drop into the laundry basket when, as he stood up, he caught sight of the box of tampons you’d left on top of the toilet. He rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance – you were always forgetting to put them back under the sink after your period was over. It was one of his biggest pet peeves, the way you would just leave things lying around and causing clutter.
Wait a minute. He frowned again at the box. You’d had your last period a week ago, which meant…
Fuck.
All the pieces fell into place in his mind then, and it took massive amounts of restraint to avoid sending his fist clear through the wall. You were ovulating, which is why you smelled so good. All his hopes of not fixating on you during this heat were dashed. In previous cycles, he’d noted your ovulation because your scent had shifted, but it had never affected him much before. Now, though, that he was in heat, the scent that indicated your fertility was overwhelming, stripping all restraint from him. The mere thought of cumming into you and getting you pregnant had his wolf instincts rising, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as his erection ached and his balls drew up, desperate to fulfil their purpose.
This isn’t right, the part of him that was still in control screamed, but that voice was quickly being drowned out by his hormones. This was bad, he needed to lock himself in his room before he did something he couldn’t take back.
With that thought in his mind, he wrenched the bathroom door open, and the cool air from outside the bathroom felt nice and calming on his overheated skin, helping him to maintain some sanity. Thankfully, you’d gone into your room and shut the door, and he made a beeline for his own room, thinking that as long as he didn’t see or smell you, everything would be fine.
Unfortunately, thinking that you were being helpful, you’d gone into his room while he was in the bathroom to leave some water and snacks. He could see a few bottles neatly lined up on the bedside table, and the rest of the carton was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room. You’d also arranged the energy bars and fruit on the table, within easy reach of the bed. His heart clenched at how thoughtful you were, but even the short amount of time you’d spent in his room was enough to leave traces of your scent in his room.
Groaning, he shut the door behind him and threw himself on the bed, facedown. He landed with his face in your pillow and growled, biting down on it as he impatiently stripped the towel off and threw it into a corner. His hands clenched into fists as he swiveled his hips, pressing his painful erection into the sheets.
In the state he was in, thoughts about how wrong it was to get himself off to your scent flew right out the window as he took deep huffs of the pillow that had become saturated with your scent from months of you sleeping on it every night. As he worked himself closer to orgasm, he imagined that instead of the residual scent you’d left in his bed, it was you, warm and soft and pliant, letting him fuck you, use your body as he needed. You’d be so sweet to him, he thought, cooing at him as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, stroking the back of his neck and letting him mark you up as he plowed into you. Even in his fantasy, he wasn’t able to be gentle with you, holding the pillow between his teeth as he imagined the tender skin of your neck and collarbone in its place. His wolf instincts running high, he shuddered as he found his release to the picture of you he held in his mind, letting him fuck a whole litter of pups into you.
“Y/n, shit, fuck,” he groaned as he came, holding that sweet fantasy close as he rode out his orgasm. Floating high in its wake for a moment, he rolled onto his back and shut his eyes, enjoying the small aftershocks running through his body. He wished he could just stay in this moment for the rest of his heat, where the consuming need had abated somewhat, but before the clarity of mind orgasm gave him made all his guilt come flooding back.
He was a terrible, shitty hybrid and he was definitely going to hell. The thought made his ears droop sadly, but at least you weren’t here to witness his descent into madness. You were too good to him, such a sweet pet, he mused as he grabbed one of the bottles of water you’d so kindly put within easy reach and gulping it down. He wished he at least knew why this was happening all of a sudden. He’d never heard of or read about hybrid-human relationships, even though he knew that technically he was part human as well. It was all very confusing and scary, made worse by the fact that he had to hide what he was feeling from everyone, especially you, for fear that you would see him differently. He’d worked so hard to make sure that you felt safe in his home, and all of that would go down the drain immediately if you found out how alluring he found your scent now, and how difficult a time he was having keeping his hands off you.
In the midst of his heat, even the thought of you finding out that he was unabashedly using your scent to get off didn’t fill him with horror and shame as it should have. Instead, his mind started to conjure up fantasies of you biting your lip, cooing his name when you found what a state he’d worked himself into. Imaginary you stroked his fevered brow softly, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then slid your hand down his body to grasp his erection as real Taehyung did the same thing.
He’d already cum twice, so he could take his time a little more, stretch out the teasing and immerse himself in his fantasy. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip in an effort to muffle the whine he could feel building in his throat, he exhaled shakily. You’d be so sweet to him, stripping out of your clothes without him asking, leaning over him to kiss him sweetly. Your soft, gentle kisses would contrast against how confidently and tightly you were gripping his cock as you jerked him off, letting him moan and whimper into your mouth.
He wouldn’t be pliant for long – no, even in his fantasy he was needy, burning up, and you were the only thing that could save him from certain death. It would barely be a minute of you hovering over him, your hand on his cock, before he wouldn’t be able to take any more teasing. He’d grab you and flip the both of you over, so you landed on your back with him between your legs. He shuddered at the thought, turning onto his belly with his face back in your pillow, stacking his fists under him so they made a nice, deep hole for his cock to drill into.
You’d be wet and creamy already, letting him slide through your folds without any resistance. He thought about how soft and tight you’d be as he ran his fingers down your slit, stretching you out for his cock. Even in the state he was in, he would be careful not to hurt you, to prep you well so that when he finally took his rightful place deep inside you, there would be nothing but pleasure. Biting his lip, he slowly fucked into his fists, mimicking the way he would enter you for the first time.
Fantasy you arched into him and moaned helplessly, your walls tightening around him rhythmically as you adjusted to his length within you, and liquid heat pooled in his lower belly as he thought about the cute, breathy sounds you would make for him. Would you beg him for more, or tell him it was too much? He rather liked the idea of being too much for you, he found, enough to ruin you for any human man or hybrid who came after him. If he had his way, you’d always be his.
He groaned and huffed as he picked up his pace, rutting into his fists as the head of his cock brushed against the sheets. Thousand thread count sheets and yet the fabric dragged almost unpleasantly against the oversensitive flesh, far rougher than he was sure your silken heat would be.
As he jerked himself off relentlessly, he imagined that it was you he was plowing into, biting savagely into the pillow as he imagined that it was your neck he was marking up. His climax was close now, he could feel it, and he panted heavily as he strained for it. “Please,” he grunted, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Please, I need it.”
Like a wish granted, his orgasm washed over him, and he shuddered all over as he came to your scent again. “Y/n,” he groaned, your name like a prayer on his lips as copious amounts of cum landed in a pool on the sheets. “Fuck,” he breathed, right before he collapsed into a heat nap.
Almost two hours had passed since you’d gone into your room. You’d spent it comfortably enough, curled into your oversized armchair reading, but it was almost dark out now and you were getting hungry.
Putting your book down and removing the noise-cancelling headphones that ensured you’d be able to look Taehyung in the eye once his heat ended, you opened your bedroom door and poked your head out slightly hesitantly. Once, when you were thirteen, you’d been careless and just waltzed right out of Yoongi’s room and run into a very naked Taehyung gulping down water in the kitchen, and it had scared the crap out of the both of you. Needless to say, ever since then you’d checked to make sure the coast was clear before going anywhere in the apartment whenever any of them had their heats.
When all you saw was Taehyung’s closed bedroom door further down the corridor, you slipped out of your room and into the kitchen, tying your hair back into a ponytail as you gathered up ingredients. You didn’t know if Taehyung was up to have a full meal, but if he was, a nice, soothing soybean stew ought to hit the spot. Already licking your lips in anticipation, you put the earthenware port on the stove and turned it on, humming to yourself as you prepared the food.
When it was done, you left it on the stove and went to get Taehyung. Sometimes even during his heat he would be capable of coming to eat a meal with you, and you figured it was worth a shot. If not, you could always eat alone and leave the stew for him to reheat when he felt hungry enough.
“Tae-oppa?” you said softly, knocking on his door.
For a second, there was no noise from inside and you assumed he was asleep, but as you were about to walk away you heard a rustle, and then he said, in a slightly slurred tone, “Come in.”
You opened the door, and were immediately assaulted by the smell in the room, but you tried not to wrinkle your nose as you stepped in, knowing that Taehyung would be able to see it even in the dark. “Oppa, I made dinner, do you want to come join me?”
Your eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the room, and you were hardly able to see anything, but you heard Taehyung moving and assumed he was coming to join you for dinner. Starting to turn around to exit the room, you were caught off guard when he instead pushed you up against the door, which in turn slammed shut. The air was knocked from your lungs and you saw stars for a moment, standing still in his grasp as you tried to figure out what just happened.
Taehyung, however, immediately took advantage of your confusion to crowd you against the door with his body. Your frame was completely dwarfed by his, one of his hands on your hip while the other was pressed to the wood beside your ear. “You smell so goddamn good,” he groaned as he bent to press his nose to your neck.
Now you were confused for a whole different reason, because his words, his proximity, the bare erection he was pressing into your belly, all of those things confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt what you’d earlier tried to deny to yourself. For some reason, your owner wanted you, and you didn’t know what to do.
“Tae-oppa –” you said timidly, trying to extricate yourself from this situation, but as he dragged his tongue up the length of your neck, right to your ear, your words cut off in a choked gasp. You shuddered involuntarily, hating yourself for reacting when you knew how wrong this all was.
“Y/n-ah, you smell so good, so ripe,” he said against your ear as he started to swivel his hips, thrusting against you. Against your will, your core clenched, and you cringed as you felt a rush of wetness escape you. Your vain hopes that he didn’t know how wet you’d become, even with his heightened hybrid senses, were dashed when he groaned again, this time a long, low sound full of agony, and pressed his lips to yours.
You were stock still for a moment, your mind blanking out, unable to comprehend what was going on. Every instinct was screaming at you to get out of there, that this was wrong, bad, sick, but your hands wouldn’t cooperate, half stretched out but not touching him, just hovering over his body.
“Y/n, it hurts,” he groaned, resting his head against your forehead and panting heavily. It sounded like there wasn’t enough air in the room for him, and you could empathize – the uncomfortably warm and humid atmosphere wasn’t comfortable for you, let alone a hybrid going through heat at the moment.
“What’s wrong, oppa?” you asked, stroking your hands down his side in a bid to bring him comfort, your initial reluctance to touch him or do anything that might give him the wrong idea forgotten in your haste to do anything that might make him feel better. Even touching his bare sides confirmed to you that he was burning up, and he usually ran warmer than you did as it was. Frowning, you tried to touch his face, to see whether he was feverish enough for it to be dangerous. If there was something wrong this time – and based on his strange behavior, you were already inclined to think there was – you had to call someone to come help him immediately.
A sob ripped through him as your hand landed on his face, and he nuzzled aggressively into your palm. “You feel okay,” you murmured, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He was warmer than usual, but not so hot that you were alarmed.
Instead of responding to your comment, he begged again, “Please help me, Y/n-ah.” The abject misery in his tone tugged at your heartstrings, and in that moment you knew you would do anything if it prevented him from suffering any more.
“What do you need, Tae-oppa?” you asked quietly, steeling yourself for what was pretty sure would be the reply. By this point, you weren’t even thinking about whether or not you personally wanted to do this – and you were fairly ambivalent about the whole thing, if you were being honest – and your entire paradigm shifted, with Taehyung in the center of it.
Instead of answering with words, he bent down slightly and hoisted you up with his hands on the back of your thighs, slotting himself between them neatly as he pressed you into the door. In this position, his prominent erection rubbed against your core, like a fiery brand burning through your shorts and panties.
You whimpered. You didn’t know which way was up – it had been so long since you’d broken up with your ex back in Geochang, and you hadn’t had any action since, and the way he was moving against you triggered every carnal instinct you possessed. At the same time, your rational mind knew that this was wrong, that he was a hybrid and you were a human. You were different species, for God’s sake, and you’d never seen him in any light other than as your owner and guardian. Somehow, though, none of that mattered when he made another pained noise.
Hesitantly, you slipped your arms around his neck and started kissing him back. Your tentative overtures were nothing like the way he greedily devoured your mouth as a precursor to the way he wanted to eat you alive, but his reaction was dramatic enough that it didn’t seem he minded too much. Pressing you back more firmly against the door, he slipped one hand from your thigh up your camisole, his long fingers stretching up your ribcage.
You shivered at his touch, although you weren’t sure whether it was in arousal or revulsion. Nevertheless, you steeled yourself and let him grope you, kiss you, do whatever he wanted. You were quickly realizing that you would do anything to help Taehyung, even give up your own body. After all, he was the person who had saved you all those years ago. It was the least you could do for him, no matter what your personal thoughts on the matter were.
Still, there was something about how enthusiastically he was kissing and touching you that was incredibly persuasive, stirring something deep within you that wanted to respond in kind. Slowly, your kisses became bolder, and when you tentatively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip, his whole body shuddered in a way that made you feel powerful.
“Fuck,” he growled, and still holding on to you, he turned and strode over to the bed, dropping you unceremoniously down on it. You’d barely landed when his hands were at work again, hooking his fingers in your waistband and pulling down your shorts and panties at the same time.
“Fuck,” he repeated more softly this time as he dropped the discarded clothing carelessly. He levelled his body over yours, an elbow planted into the bed beside you to help balance himself as he slid his other hand down your soft belly to your pussy. You widened your legs accommodatingly to his touch, biting your lip to stay quiet when his hand slid over you, just a little too hard to be pleasurable over the sensitive flesh.
“Shit, this heat is going to be the death of me,” he huffed, sounding more lucid now that you were under him than he had at any point before. He settled between your legs and bent his head back down to rub his nose against your neck again, but that one throwaway comment stuck in your mind, causing you to stiffen under him uncomfortably. Your stomach twisted unpleasantly in panic as you realized what you’d almost done. He was in heat, unable to think straight, and instead of protecting him from making a hormone-fueled decision that he would definitely have regretted as soon as his heat passed, you’d been about to enable it.
Whatever arousal you might have been feeling evaporated in an instant, shame and horror filling you instead. Taehyung was so out of it that he didn’t notice the chance in your body language, but he sure as hell noticed when you tried to scramble away from him, though you weren’t very successful since his entire weight was pressing down on you, pinning you in place.
Still, you made a little headway squirming away from him before his eyes opened wide again and he frowned down at you, pressing his hips more firmly down into you to pin you down. “Stop,” he protested. “What are you doing?”
“Oppa, we can’t do this,” you cried out, distressed, as you continued to struggle away from him. But he was bigger and stronger than you were, and pinned you down easily.
“Why not,” he whined, his breath ruffling the hair by your temple. He was still panting heavily as you squirmed under him, and you stopped, realizing that your movement was making the situation worse. In your despair, tears began to prick at your eyes, and the scent of your distress, cutting sharply through the intoxicating aroma of your arousal, gave him pause.
“Baby, are you okay?” he asked with some concern, lifting himself off you slightly so that he could peer down at your face. The moment you felt his weight leave you, you used your newfound leverage to push him so hard he lost his balance, falling to the mattress next to you. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if he’d been expecting it and bracing against it, you knew, because he was just so much stronger than you naturally.
In a flash, you were up and running for your life, sprinting for his bedroom door. You didn’t bother grabbing the rest of your clothes, knowing there was no time. Even with the head start you’d gotten on Taehyung, you knew that it would be close when he snarled and pushed himself off the bed, chasing after you.
Shit, you swore to yourself as you ran for your bedroom. It loomed ahead of you, seeming to get further away as your vision narrowed in your panic. You could hear Taehyung thundering down the hallway after you, and with his longer stride and superior hybrid strength, he was gaining on you at an alarming pace. Even though you knew this was probably nothing for him, he was panting loudly enough for you to hear it, and you cringed as you remembered how alluring the chase was to wolves. Did Taehyung have that in common with them? You were starting to realise that despite being with him for so long, there were enormous gaps in your knowledge about him. Of course, you’d never expected that you would need to know such intimate details about him, but here you were.
You ducked into your room and slammed the door shut just in time, wincing as you heard Taehyung crash into the solid oak with a furious snarl. You flipped the lock into place right before he started abusing the door handle, banging loudly and pulling way too hard on the handle as he yelled for you. “Y/n-ie? Baby, please unlock the door. Just talk to me, baby, I just wanna talk, I won’t do anything else, please.” He continued to beg and wheedle, his voice turning into a whine.
Oh, God. You had no clue how to handle this, and it was turning into a nightmare. You backed away from the door, trying to give yourself as much distance as possible to think. You had to call for reinforcements, you knew. There was no way in hell you were going out there, and Taehyung was out of his mind right now.
Running your hands through your hair in stress, you picked up the phone that you’d thankfully left on your bedside table instead of on the kitchen counter. There was only one person who could help you, you knew. Namjoon.
You sat on the floor with your back against the door the entire time you waited for him to arrive, trying to offer Taehyung comfort and companionship without actually opening the door, which you knew would lead to something you couldn’t take back given the state he was in. He’d given up on yelling and trying to break into your room, since the door was sturdy enough to withstand his efforts to knock it down. In utter despair and misery now, he was on the floor whimpering and whining, and your heart broke with every sad, pathetic noise he made. It took everything in you not to open the door and give him what he so desperately wanted, and it was only the knowledge that he would hate himself, and you, once the heat passed that gave you the strength to resist.
Thankfully, Namjoon had a key to the apartment, because you didn’t know how you would have gotten all the way to the front door to let him in with Taehyung still camped outside your bedroom. You knew when he arrived because Taehyung’s sad, soft whines transformed into angry growls. He was infuriated at another hybrid encroaching on what he considered to be his territory during his heat, with his bitch in the vicinity, and you were terrified that he would actually attack the older man, yet another thing that he would hate himself for when he was back in his right frame of mind.
Grateful that you’d thought to dress yourself once you were back in your room, you opened the door, distracting Taehyung from Namjoon as he immediately attached himself to you. Patting his back while trying to keep his hands from straying to inappropriate places, it took you a moment to realize that Namjoon had brought Yoongi with him, and you squinted in confusion at the snow leopard hybrid.
“You should stay with Yoongi until Tae’s heat passes,” Namjoon explained. “I’ll keep an eye on Taehyung.”
That sounded like a good idea in theory, but how poorly Taehyung had reacted to having them in his apartment during his heat made you skeptical of how it would play out. Even now, Taehyung’s distraction was fading away, and he was standing protectively in front of you as he growled threateningly at the intruders.
“His instincts are amped up because of you, for some reason. If you aren’t here anymore, he should calm down.”
You chewed on your lip indecisively. The doubt in Namjoon’s voice made you want to protest, to reject his proposal. How could you endanger both Taehyung and Namjoon on a hunch?
Really, though, what was the alternative? You couldn’t possibly give in to Taehyung; he would be filled with regret and self-loathing once he returned to normal, and you needed to protect him from that.
“Okay,” you acquiesced finally. You tried to step around Taehyung to go to Yoongi, but he whipped around, alarmed.
“Baby, what are you doing?” he asked, panicked, his arms wrapping around you immediately.
“Oppa, let me go, please?” you begged softly, hoping futilely that Namjoon and Yoongi wouldn’t hear your conversation with him. Somehow, this felt too intimate for anyone else to witness.
Taehyung brushed his thumb along your cheekbone, wiping away the stray tear in what had to be the most tender gesture he’d made towards you since his heat started. “Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll give you everything you need.”
“Tae-oppa, I’ll see you after your heat, okay?” you managed, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat. “Be nice to Namjoon-oppa. I love you.” You’d said it to him so many times before, but it carried a different weight this time that you didn’t want to examine too closely.
“Y/n-ie…” He didn’t let you go, but his grip loosened ever so slightly, and you took the opportunity to twist yourself out of his embrace, and hurried over to Yoongi. He gave you a small smile as he held his hand out to you.
As you left the apartment with Yoongi, you heard Taehyung give a heart-rending roar, and almost said to hell with it and ran back to him. As if sensing your internal conflict, Yoongi’s hand tightened on yours, making it impossible for you to leave his side.
You sobbed in the car all the way to Yoongi’s apartment, the reality of everything setting into you only after you’d left the situation, and the adrenaline that had kept you going left your system. You didn’t understand what was going on, but the pure misery you’d heard in Taehyung’s voice as he called out for you stayed with you. It was your fault somehow, you knew. Taehyung was suffering because of you, because of your ancestors, cruel people who’d made him the way he was for their own selfish purposes. Everything was your fault.
For the next four days, you barely left Yoongi's guest bedroom. He gave up trying to coax you to watch Netflix with him or come to the studio to interact with the other members. Instead, he left you alone for the most part, only coming to get you when it was meal time or when he had an update from Namjoon.
Apparently, after you'd left he'd barricaded himself in his own bedroom and hadn't left. Namjoon was trying to get him to eat a proper meal, but it was tough - thankfully, there was still the stew you'd cooked and hadn't gotten a chance to eat on the stove, because it wasn't like Namjoon was capable of cooking a nutritious homemade meal from scratch. After several attempts, Taehyung had finally allowed Namjoon to hand him the meal on a tray, which he ate in his room and left the empty dishes outside the door after.
Apart from that, you didn't know much because he wasn't interacting with Namjoon, so your secondhand information was limited at best. It didn't really help your anxiety about the whole situation, but at least you knew he was alive, and you'd really left enough food and water in his bedroom for several heats, so there wasn't a problem on that front.
You used the time, instead, to think about what had happened during the first day of Taehyung's heat. For the entire four days you were at Yoongi's, you basically thought about nothing else. He'd wanted you. Now that you were thinking about it in that light, a lot of the other strange things he'd been doing made a lot more sense. He wasn't just reacting to your familiar scent, or pack bond, or whatever bullshit it was that he'd been feeding you. You realised with a start that he'd been attracted to you.
That realisation didn't make you feel better - in fact, you had more questions than before. How long had this been going on? How could this happen? Was this normal? Was he normal? And, most importantly, how did you feel about it all?
With so much time on your hands all of a sudden, you thought about it obsessively, and cycled through almost every possible emotion.
First came the knee-jerk reaction of disgust and horror, of course. How could this happen? How could you let this happen? You sobbed as you thought about how wrong all of this was, how weird, how inappropriate it was that Taehyung was attracted to you, a human and his pet, for God's sake. And he'd fucking lied about it too, feeding you that bullshit about his pack bond and lulling you into a false sense of security so you'd continue to stay with him, when he should have told you what was happening and let you move away as soon as he started feeling this way.
But then - and almost against your will, because you did not want to start empathizing with him and trying to justify the shitty things he'd done to you in your mind - you started to see things his way. If it was so wrong to you, it must have been a million times worse for him, the one who'd been caught so off-guard by these new, entirely unexpected emotions. He must have been blindsided, felt so lost and scared, when he realised what was going on. Your traitorous heart felt a pang of sympathy for him. Of course he hadn't wanted to tell you; he'd probably not even been ready to admit it to himself.
Lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, you tried to sort out your thoughts. Whether you liked it or not, you were programmed to want to please your owner, and that included understanding them. Your psyche had done its job and let you understand, with very little information and no help, Taehyung's motivations and frame of mind.
What it wouldn't help with, however, was understanding how you felt about all of this. You sighed and rolled onto your belly, burying your face in the pillows, stifling the urge to scream in frustration.
You knew you cared about Taehyung. Despite everything else, that hadn't changed. You couldn't forget the way he'd taken you in, given you a loving home and everything a human could possibly ask for, and asked for nothing in return. He'd even done his best to hide his growing desire from you when - let's be real - he could have acted on it whenever he wanted. It's not like anyone would believe you over him. You loved him, and you were so grateful to him for taking you in when nobody else would, and saving you from a miserable childhood in the shelter. Everything you had - everything you were - was because of him.
Still, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was wrong, that it was immoral and inappropriate and sick to be in a human-hybrid relationship. Not after everything that had happened between the two species. Not when you were literally different species.
With a groan of despair that was muffled by the pillows, you flailed a little in frustration. What were you to do? You were still no closer to an answer than you'd been when you'd first started thinking about all of this literal days ago.
Namjoon didn't know - and, God willing, would never know - that Taehyung had found your discarded shorts and underwear on his bedroom floor after you'd left, and had been using that to help him get off ever since. In the state he was in, he wasn't even capable of feeling shame or remorse at what he was doing, and was just ecstatic that he finally had something better than your residual scent on his sheets to get off to.
He sniffed at the crotch of your panties - buried his face in them, really - licked and sucked at the stains that your arousal had left in them, and tried to memorise the scent as he masturbated furiously throughout the entire four days of his heat. By the end of it, there was barely any trace of you left on the scrap of fabric, something he bemoaned as he worked himself to the final unsatisfying orgasm of his heat.
His whole room was a mess - it stank of sex and debauchery, and there was cum all over the place - the floor, the pillows from when he'd rutted them, all over the sheets. As he fell into a deep sleep, he wondered if you'd be able to smell it, even with your weak human nose, when you came back.
He kind of hoped you would. His heat-addled mind wanted you to know what he'd done for you.
When Taehyung woke up, finally lucid after running through his heat, the first thing he did was remove your panties from his mouth. He grimaced in disgust - how had he literally fallen asleep with them there? God, he was truly awful - and tossed them aside, grabbing a half-finished bottle of water from between the pillows and downing it. He was parched, and the the water in the bottle wasn't enough for him.
As he got up on shaky legs to grab another bottle from the corner, he recognized for the first time how ravenous he was, and after picking up his water, brought it with him while he left his bedroom for the first time in days to find some food.
Thinking that he was alone, he didn't bother getting dressed, so when he reached the end of the hallway and entered the common area of the apartment, he screamed like a little girl and ran all the way back to his room in embarrassment when Namjoon, sitting on the couch with his Kindle, turned around to see him in his full naked glory. It was nothing the older man hadn't seen before, of course - you see all sorts of things when you live together for as long as they had - but it was still embarrassing, especially after so long being apart.
By the time he re-emerged sheepishly, fully dressed, Namjoon was waiting for him with a smirk. "You didn't need to react like that, you know," he teased.
"Yeah, yeah," Taehyung grumped. "I'm starving, is there anything to eat?"
Namjoon rolled his eyes. "What do you think this is, Masterchef?" he quipped. "I just called for delivery, it should be here soon," he continued.
Taehyung, on hearing that, gave his leader his best boxy smile. "Thanks, hyung! You're the best!" he cheered, going to sit on the other end of the couch to wait.
Namjoon, figuring that he would leave the questions till after the other man had eaten, went back to his Kindle. Taehyung, though, seemed to have other ideas.
"Hyung, have you been here all this while?" he asked curiously.
"Uh, yeah," Namjoon replied. "Somebody had to take care of you."
"Where's Y/n?" came the next question.
Namjoon hesitated then. "How much do you remember?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to say anything that might startle or upset Taehyung.
"Uhh..." Taehyung frowned, thinking hard. "I remember Y/n smelling real good," he said, shivering at just the memory of it. "Then she was in my room, under me... then..." he trailed off, his eyes widening in horror as he started remembering in detail what had happened.
"Oh, my God," he groaned, burying his head in his hands. "I'm awful," he said, beginning to sob.
"Hey, don't say that about yourself," Namjoon said, alarmed, drawing closer as he patted the younger man on the back comfortingly. "You're not awful, you were just caught up in your heat, that's all."
"No, you don't understand!" Taehyung cried out, obviously distressed. "I'm the worst; I'm a disgusting hybrid and pet owner, and I should be put behind bars for Y/n's safety, and probably the rest of society, too," he finished miserably, his ears drooping.
Namjoon tried to calm Taehyung down to explain what he meant by that, but before he succeeded, the food arrived, and with that distraction readily available, the younger man clammed up as he stuffed his face full of japchae and kimchi stew to avoid talking.
Eventually, when everything had been finished - even the weird sweetcorn banchan that no one ever finished - Taehyung couldn't put it off any longer.
"You'll hate me," he protested dejectedly when Namjoon tried again to coax him to spill the beans.
"Bro, if I didn't hate you after you threw up all over me when you had food poisoning, how could anything make me hate you now?" Namjoon countered reasonably.
That made sense, so with a heavy sigh, Taehyung told Namjoon the entire sordid tale. The words came out stiltedly at first, then started pouring out, as Taehyung started speaking faster and faster, until it sounded like he was the rapper in the group. The more he spilled, the lighter the weight on his shoulders became, as if by telling someone else, he was transferring the burden. Namjoon, to his credit, listened quietly, his expression remaining open and neutral as he took in Taehyung's story, interjecting only to ask clarifying questions but never to pass any judgement.
When Taehyung was finally done - he left out the bit about him using your dirty underwear to get him through his heat, because hyung or not, there were some things that should be kept to himself - he leaned back against the couch cushions with a heavy sigh. This was it, he knew. No matter how accepting his hyung was, there were some things that were just too much, and this was one of those. As he'd been telling the story from the beginning, starting from the day you'd come to pick him up from his army base, how awful it all was hit him again, amplified by revising the entirety of how he'd abused you and your trust.
"So you see," he concluded his story with a small sigh, "I'm a disgusting pervert who should probably die for the sake of society."
To his shock, Namjoon leaned in and squeezed his knee. "Don't say that about yourself," he castigated. "I'll do some reading and see if I can find out more about this, but you shouldn't panic, okay? I'm sure I'll be able to find an explanation and solution for you. Trust your hyung."
The way he said that, so sure and steady, made Taehyung relax, almost against his will. Namjoon had been there for him for almost half of his life now, and he knew, from the determined set of his jaw, that he would come through for him again.
"Okay."
After their conversation, Namjoon texted Yoongi to let him know that the coast was clear and quickly made himself scarce, not wanting to get in the way of whatever emotional reunion you were going to have, knowing Taehyung.
Yoongi, for his part, tried his best to get you back home as quickly as possible, and you didn't have the heart to tell him that you would actually have appreciated a little more time away from Taehyung. You felt bad, but you were still so unsure about everything that was happening, and you were, if you were being completely honest, a little afraid to go home and face him.
Which led to you, standing outside your front door like an idiot, your fist raised to knock, but unable to actually do it. There would be no going back from this, you knew. Nothing would ever be the same again, one way or another. Was it so wrong of you to want to keep things the way they were, just for a second?
With a heavy sigh, you dropped your fist against the solid wood of the door, wincing at the loud sound it made. Almost too quickly, you heard the patter of footsteps as Taehyung raced to the door and opened it.
"Hi," you breathed awkwardly, standing like an idiot with no clue of what to say or do all of a sudden.
Taehyung, it seemed, had no such problems as he pulled you into a hug and kicked the door shut with his foot. "Y/n, you came back," he breathed into your hair as he squeezed the life out of you.
Even though you'd been so nervous just a second earlier, being in his warm, familiar embrace made it feel like everything would be okay again, and you couldn't help but melt into his embrace. "Of course I came back, oppa," you said quietly into his chest.
"I thought... I thought..." Taehyung choked up and he couldn't continue as he dissolved into sobs. "I'm so sorry!" he cried instead, over and over again as you soothed him, telling him that everything would be okay, that you would always be here for him, that you were never going to leave him no matter what, as you stroked his ears comfortingly, the way you knew he liked.
"Hey, it's okay," you repeated as you patted his back, leaning up on tiptoe to press kisses to as much of his face as you could reach. And it was. Just being with Taehyung, in that moment, gave you a clarity that you hadn't been able to find after days of agonizing over it. Taehyung had saved you, and you loved him. It was as simple as that. And listening to him blubber about how sorry he was, how he'd work on it, he promised, how he'd never do anything like that again if you would just forgive him, you knew that whatever Taehyung wanted, you'd give to him, no matter how you felt about it.
"It's okay," you said one last time as his sobs petered out. "Whatever you want, it's okay."
Taehyung didn't fully register at the time how much you meant what you'd said to him that day, but he would soon.
It was weeks later that Namjoon finally made a breakthrough on his research. Weeks of obsessively searching, trawling through endless pages on the dark web and the dregs of reddit, before he finally found something. It was an old research paper, hundreds of years old, published by a now-defunct, of course, company that had manufactured hybrids. The paper was titled "Research advancements in imprinting technology in hybrids".
"Oh my God," Namjoon breathed in shock and horror as he skimmed the paper. This was way more serious than either he or Taehyung had initially thought.
✿ Pairing: Ot7 x f reader
✿ Genre: Idol!OT7; Poly!BTS 18+ M
✿ Word Count: 2.6 k
✿ Warnings: Poly established relationship, wet t-shirt contest of sorts?, kissing, fondling, teasing, masturbation, voyerism, orgasm, squirting, over- stimulation.
✿ Synopsis: When it’s April Fool’s Day, but you end up getting finger fucked by Jikook while BTS watch.
✿ A/n: This is for my SECRET BUNNY @halussali for the @bangtanarmynet Secret Bunny Event. I hope you love it! I was so excited to make this for you. I truly enjoyed being your secret bunny even though I had a minor slip-up...shhh it never happened! Enjoy sweat pea!
“Okay, is everything in place?” Jin asks from behind the counter he is currently using as a hiding spot. Jungkook and Jimin are also there, nodding their heads excitedly at what they know is about to happen. “Good, good. I knew I raised you both right.” Patting Jungkook’s head, Jin attempts to praise the youngest one, but not wanting to be condescended, Jungkook raises a fist at Jin who quickly dodges the punch coming his way.
“Stop it or we’ll get caught.” Jimin complains, watching the entire encounter unfold. He tries to act serious, but ends up practically falling over on top of Jungkook from laughing so hard. A sudden shuffling from the hallway stills them immediately, silencing them as they anxiously await their first victim.
Taehyung yawns, stretching his body before stepping into the kitchen. The men behind the counter hold their breath, excited at the prospect of pranking whomever enters their domain. When Tae opens the refrigerator to grab some milk, a projectile egg barely misses his face as he ducks down looking for some berries. “WHAAAA, what the--”
Snorts and high pitched laughter from behind the counter expose the hidden men, earning a scowl from Tae who still has the carton of milk in his hand. Walking over with hair spiked up from sleep, he rubs his eyes trying to focus on the three clowns that can barely hold themselves together. Yawning, Tae turns back around grabbing some cereal, a bowl and spoon before heading back to his room.
“That was brilliant, Jungkook. Good boy.” Jin high-fives Jungkook and Jimin frowns at the lack of attention. “Hyung, what about me? Mine is good too, right?”
“We’ll see.” Jin huffs, as he settles back into place with the boys. “Who do you think will be next?” Jungkook asks with large doe eyes, excitement overwhelming his senses..
“Who knows? But we have to be quiet, Guk.” Jimin rubs over Jungkook’s nape in an attempt to calm his voice. Nodding in agreement, he sits still along with the others waiting. About fifteen minutes pass, and no other member shows up. Disappointed, Jin is just about to get up to see what’s wrong when he hears a light sniffle. Getting back to his place, along with Jimin and Jungkook, he sits and waits quietly, breath caught in his throat.
They really hope this one is Yoongi because Jimin had worked so hard to prepare the coffee maker surprise. Unable to stop his heart from thrumming, Jungkook grabs at his chest, eyeballing Jimin who can’t seem to hold back his laughter. His face is as red as a tomato, and with the way his body is shaking, Jungkook is worried it’ll all be ruined. Jin, on the other hand, has his lips pursed tightly causing Jimin to slip out a snort. As soon as the person comes closer, they completely hush.
Just above them, the coffee maker awaits its victim. When they hear it start to percolate, a sudden cry from a voice they were not expecting shocks them into seriousness. Standing up one after the other, they visibly cringe when they see your white t-shirt covered in coffee grounds. Your hair was still a mess from sleep and the fumes emanating from your body were clearly not from the coffee.
“Y/N, I can...we can explain..it’s not…”
Putting up a hand to silence whomever was speaking, you turn to walk away, but Jimin runs to stop you. “Baby, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be for you. JUNGKOOK, GRAB THE PAPER TOWELS! Baby, please don’t be mad.”
As Jimin works on his apology, a sleepy Yoongi makes his way into the kitchen, but then walks right out. “I don’t even want to know.” he mumbles walking away.
In the next instance, Jungkook and Jin are at your side, both men rubbing down the coffee from your body with the sheets from the paper towels still attached to the roll that is currently dragging across the floor. The sight is actually quite comical and when you take a minute to process it all, you start shaking with laughter.
At first Jimin thinks you’re cold, so he begins rubbing down your arms in an attempt to warm you up, but when your mouth falls open, the sound you make is unmistakable.
“I hate you all. You know that?” you manage to say. Jimin grabs your face just to make sure you weren’t indeed upset and then places a gentle kiss on your lips.
“Baby, I really am sorry. The prank was meant for Yoongi, but you happened to show up and…”
“Whaa? The prank was meant for me? How about I show you what a prank really is?”
Confused by the additional voice in the background, Jimin looks behind you to see that not only Yoongi, but Hobi and Namjoon have suddenly shown up carrying large water guns filled to capacity and pointed directly at all of them.
Before you can run, water begins to spray everywhere, turning the kitchen into a full on water park. The coffee gets washed off of your body thankfully, but now you’re even more soaked than before. Jungkook runs to grab the water hose from the sink making the chaos even greater.
The sound of joyous laughter starts to fill the house and soon Tae gets curious. Making his way back with his cereal bowl still full of milk, he barely makes it to the doorway before getting assaulted with a water gun. He yelps in surprise and everyone turns to see what the sound is.
“No, my cereal. Guys..what….?” He doesn’t get to protest further, his words silenced when Jungkook sprays him right in the mouth, causing Tae to drop the bowl in the process. Running to protect him from further attack, you attempt to place your body in front of Tae, but Jimin grabs you causing you to tumble forward in the process. Now on the wet floor, on top of Tae, with Jimin at your feet, you can’t help but laugh until your stomach aches.
Tae, suddenly worried that you might have gotten hurt, reaches forward to pull you up, but his word never make it past his lips. The white t-shirt you had on was now completely soaked through and everything was visible. Everything.
Tae gasps at the sight making Jimin curious about his reaction. When you sit up and turn to stand, Jimin coughs out a choked surprise. “Y/N get up, now.”
Rushing to cover you with his body, he pulls you out of the kitchen quickly, upset that the entirety of bangtan has just seen more than they should. He practically drags you into the hallway, away from curious eyes, and you struggle to keep up with his pace.
“Jimin, it’s okay. It was only an accident.”
Jimin stops abruptly causing you to bump into his chest. “No! It’s not okay. We haven’t even established a sexual relationship with them yet. It’s only been me and you. They don’t love you like I do.”
Seeing the distress in his eyes, you caress his face softly, knowing that his words are not coming from a jealous place. As you step closer to reassure him, he stops you, looking down at the way your breasts are clearly visible and how your nipples stand at attention, the darker color contrasting with the white of the fabric.
The moment is interrupted when Jungkook steps into the hallway, a worried look creasing his brow. “Hyung, the guys sent me here to see if everything was okay. Are you…?”
From where you stand, the light hits your chest perfectly, highlighting everything that Jimin attempted to hide. A blush blooms over Jungkook’s face, spreading to the tips of his ears, and he suddenly turns away pretending he didn’t see a thing. “Nevermind, I just wanted to see...uh..it’s no big deal...yeah..ok..”
As he starts to walk away you stop him. “ No wait, Guk. Come here, it’s okay.”
Jimin looks at you curiously and then at Jungkook who is hovering between coming towards you or running away. At the extension of your hands towards him, he dips his head forward shyly as he comes forward. “It’s okay to look, Gukie. You know I’m here for all of you.” Grabbing his face, you tilt it up, catching the flicker of arousal in his dark orbs.
His eyes are huge like saucers, and it’s cute how he can’t decide where to look. Helping him feel more comfortable, you bring up his hand and cup one of your breasts with it, tipping forward to steal a seductive kiss from him. Shocked by everything that’s happening, Jungkook gasps before falling into the kiss he’s been yearning to taste for so long.
Eyes closed, you can hear the way Jimin takes in a breath, and you smile as you dip your tongue into Jungkoojk’s unsuspecting mouth. A small whine from the back of Jungkook’s throat surprises you, and you pull back to make sure you haven’t shocked the poor boy.
His eyes are still closed, and the hand grasping at your breast has tightened significantly. You smile when you see his state. Jimin on the other hand isn’t faring well, the tent in his pajama bottoms making it evident that he’s in need of you too. Just as you’re about to invite them both to your room, a sequence of gasps from the end of the hall surprises you.
Turning you see everyone standing there, mouths agape, and eyes glued to the scene before them. Jimin smirks at you and then grabs Jungkook’s hand to pull it off of your body; he laughs.
“Looks like I am going to have to share you after all.”
____
As soon as the bedroom door shuts, you can feel your skin prick with excitement. The boys all stand behind you, except for Jimin who’s in front of you, rubbing your shoulders gently, not really sure who he was trying to calm down.
“Baby, if you’re sure, we’re ready.” You hear Namjoon’s voice from behind you eager to move things along. It had been months since this arrangement began. You all dated during that time, sometimes together and other times alone. It was always fun to be with them, and when they asked you to move in, you couldn’t say no.
The entire relationship had the unspoken promise that you’d be shared by them all, and you were completely accepting of the underlying expectations. The boys had a very tight schedule when they worked, and you indulged in every precious moment you were able to spend together.
You had only slept with Jimin so far because the whole thing started with him. He’d been the only one you dated for several months before he introduced you to the other members. When you met them, you knew immediately that you fit in, that you were supposed to be one complete family. Now standing in the large room with all the boys near you, it was even more clear you wanted this.
“I’m ready, Joon. I’ve been ready from day one.”
Jin chuckles at how cute you were and your bravery really made him admire you all the more. It was what he liked about you the most, how you were always able to clearly state your emotions.
“I’m sure you’re ready, baby girl. Maybe we can have Guk go on over and check to see how ready. I’m sure he’s eager after that display in the hall earlier.”
Jungkook swallows hard, eyes on his older brothers unsure if he should move in. He was always so careful with you and had the sweetest heart. You knew he might be having a hard time making the first move, so you decide to make it easier for him. Turning around, you step forward until you’re face to face with the wide-eyed soft man before you.
“Did you want my help?” You ask shyly with a blush tinting your cheeks. Your smile brightens when he shakes his head aggressively, seemingly trying to gain control of his hands that won’t stop shaking. “Here, let me.” you offer up, taking his hands into yours, kissing his palms tenderly. You take one hand and move it passed the band of your pajama pants, enjoying the way he feels against your skin, while also taking in the way his breath quickens.
“So good, Guk.” You barely manage to whisper as you watch him sink his hand down deeper into your panties. When he makes contact with your skin, you jolt, a small whimper escaping your lips in the process.
Turned on by your reaction, he dips his fingers between your folds, testing the waters even further. When you don’t resist, he slides a finger into your warmth, almost crumbling to the floor when you cry out softly against his skin. Your head is tucked into the crook of his neck, as your body delights in the pressure he places against your clit.
“How does this feel, noona?” The little brat smiles against your temple, knowing damn well that your voice isn’t working.
“Don’t be greedy, Gukie.” Jimin demands from where he’s been standing the entire time, watching the whole thing go down before his very eyes.
Sliding up to your back, he pulls you against him, allowing you to lean on him for support. Dropping your head back, you let it fall onto Jimin’s shoulder, giving him the perfect access to your neck. He gently begins nipping at the most delicate parts of your skin, exciting parts of your body that only add to the pleasure you’re already feeling.
The other men stand back and watch. They all want to jump in, but they know that this is the first time you’re welcoming them into such a private moment. They don’t want to overwhelm you right away, so they just watch, hands in their pants. The scene unfolding before them is incredibly tempting, and soon you hear their voices moaning in the background.
Opening your eyes briefly, you can see them bringing themselves closer to their high as they watch Jungkook drive in his fingers deeper and faster. Jimin’s arm is partially holding you up, while his other hand finds its way into your shirt. As soon as he finds a breast, he squeezes it, pulling a gasp from you. When you whine out, he captures your mouth in a deep kiss, swallowing your cry.
The boys can still see your breasts through the wet material, the very reason they’re in this room in the first place. Your aroused nipples can barely be contained by the soaked wet t-shirt, and Jungkook, seeing an opportunity, dips his head down to take one into his warm mouth.
While the two men before you are intent on breaking you down, the five others watch intensely as they inch closer to their high.
“Fuck. She’s so fucking sexy.” Hobi manages to grind out through clenched teeth, his own cock straining to find release.
Suddenly, you feel more than Jungkook’s hand down your pants, and you’re sure you’re about to lose your mind at the way Jimin’s fingers have started circling over your clit. Jungkook’s fingers have now become three, and Jimin is relentlessly working to bring you over the edge.
“Oh...my...Oh...I’m...I’m cum...I-- fuck!” You all but manage to warn the men as you cum the hardest you ever have, gushing your juices all over them, soaking through your own pants. You cry out, consumed by the pleasure you can barely contain. Your knees give out, but Jimin and Jungkook are persistent, working you out until they’ve milked every last drop from you.
You whine in protest, but they continue, stimulating your already overly sensitive pussy with their strokes.
“Such a good fucking girl.” Jimin praises as he finally places his arms around your frame to keep you from falling to the ground.
Jungkook, overcome with lust, pulls his fingers out slowly from your heat, and then brings them up to his mouth where he completely cleans them off with his tongue.
“She tastes amazing, hyung.” You barely register his voice, only catching the way his eyes roll back in delight.
Just as you think you’ve recovered, you hear simultaneous moans coming from the men waiting by the door, all coming undone at the show you’ve just put on.
When they reach completion, they tuck themselves in, walking out to clean themselves and give you time with the boys. You’re left alone with Jimin and Jungkook knowing very well that they haven't had any release yet.
“So...where do you want me?”
The boys both look at each other before turning back towards you with a sinister smile.
“Why don’t you tell her how you want her, Guk.” Jimin offers.
The look they’re giving you is far from soft, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been afraid of the boys until this very moment.
