⇻ pairing: Taehyung x FemaleReader. SugarDaddy!Tae. Dom!Tae.
⇻ synopsis: Taehyung and Vogue work abroad for his next photoshoot, but he uses this longtime break he is also in to bring his well known friends on this trip overseas into the French landscapes. The reader, happily taking this chance to spend more time with him, enjoys a well deserved vacations by being tied on Taehyung's bed.
⇻ tags: minors dni. smut, fwb, SugarDaddy!Taehyung, dom!tae, light bondage, weekend getaway, cunnilungus, multiple orgasms (female receiving), vaginal fisting, light BDSM tones, crack!fic tbh there's a few jokes.
⇻ words: 4.3k.
⇻ links: ao3.
⇻ a/n: lmfao hello again. I'm back posting fics, not sure if I'll ever manage to post all my other old fics here on Tumblr but they are all up on ao3 if you guys were ever interested. Anyways, here is my next fic, it's not that long so hopefully you guys enjoy! I enjoy comments and reblogs a lot, my ask box is open :)
Sunlight filtered through the trees above your head, casting shadows around him like the sun took out a brush and carefully flicked its wrists on the fallen leaves around you both. You hated it. How he didn't need to lift a finger and the whole universe would simply arrange itself to flatter him so.. He was a natural type of beauty, an ethereal one at least. Everything seemed to be for the purpose of exalting his beauty; the honey colour of his skin, the dark curls of his permed and dyed again hair, sitting on top of a bench and showing off the toned physicality of his back.
And if thy right eye offends thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for. thee that one of thy members should perish, and. not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. Matthew 5:29.
The devil could take you down to hell himself and hellfire would not be enough to burn out the desire that clawed at your throat. But this was not the time, or the place for any of that. You could keep thirsting for Taehyung somewhere else, where he didn’t catch you with drool dripping down your chin or with a serious case of “fuck me” eyes whilst there were people around.
After all, you were just friends, friends that occasionally fucked in unconventional positions (and spots). His buddies were busy photographing him in all his glory for the millions of followers he had on instagram, each one getting off and lusting over him as much as you did.
Although, unlike those faceless followers, he actually knew you. And you’d know each other whilst he was still training to be the superstar he has become today.
“Has anyone ever told you how easy you are to read?”, you got caught off guard by Wooshik. Grinning cheekily, he raised his iced americano and sipped some from his straw.
“Has anyone ever told you how you can be a dick?”
“Struck a nerve there, huh? Don’t worry you aren’t the only one, I think at least Jennie and Hyungsik seriously reevaluated on staying behind on this overseas trip.”
“Whatever,” you scoffed, “unlike them he actually scheduled it so that we were both free from work to hang out and travel,”
Wooshik laughed, interrupting you, “that’s cause you’re practically his sugar baby.”
“Shut it, I paid for a few things.”
“Like what.”
“Like the clothes I brought here, jackass, mind your own business.”
“Agent Provocateur doesn't count!”
“Jesus, how much does he tell you?”
“Everything.”
“What are you guys arguing over now?” Taehyung walked back up the path, still shirtless but with a brown cardigan offering a slutty view of his chest. You tried not to stare but failed.
“How bad you’re spoiling our shortie here.”
“I’m not spoiled!”
Tae laughed, leaning closer to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He leaned close, his breath ghosting over yours as he cocked and eyebrow up and smirked. “Does my favourite girl need more attention? Should we share the airbnb room tonight?”
Damn him. Your whole face flushed beet red, eyes shooting wide as you tried not to stutter or stumble on your words. “I-I, You- You should s- I don’t–”
“Save it for tonight Romeo, we still have two more hours on the road before we get to the cabin.”
Taehyung smirked, leaning down and kissing your nose quickly before heading back to the car, his security detail still standing a few feet away. “I’m driving,” he announced, “Y/N, take shotgun so you can spot the cows we see on the road.”
Your eyes lit up, pushing past Wooshik and heading straight towards the grey Hyundai, sitting on the front seat and excitedly clicking the seatbelt on. You could hear Taehyung laughing, his loud square smile ever present as he patted Wooshik's back and told his other friends how you’d go ahead from everyone else.
“Marselle is quite pretty this time of the year,” Taehyung started as he moved the side mirrors, starting the engine before driving off.
You reached out for the aux cord, connecting it with your phone and sorting through one of the shared playlists you had with Tae. “It’s not as cold as I thought it would be, actually, oh, do you think we can get some matcha around here?”
“Maybe, there’s quite a few cafés but I don’t think I can order one with my shitty French,” he laughed, punching the airbnb address onto the navigation system.
“Nothing my crummy B1 certificate and google translate can’t fix, it’s been working since we got here.”
Tae laughed, glancing at you quickly before focusing on the road, “the waiter from last night’s restaurant disagrees.”
“Okay, whose fault is it that I was in flip flops and a sundress at a fucking french high cuisine restaurant.”
“You didn’t have to bring the google lady out”
“I can’t even pronounce hor d'oeuvres! How was I expected to successfully communicate!?” you demanded.
Taehyung laughed even more, Michel Buble starting to play in the background as you both bickered. It was fun to spend time with Taehyung like this. Before his group’s hiatus he barely had enough time to go out and meet for coffee. Granted, neither one of you liked coffee, and instead opted for green tea matcha lattes. It was one of your first bonding points, before you both realised how fond you were with jazz and movies. Studying art, living for beauty, that was one of the biggest traits you both shared.
Then, of course, came the sexual chemistry, but that’s for another time. Right now, you were incredibly engrossed with each other, his hand moving from the steering wheel and holding your knee in a caring and reassuring way, pointing out whenever he saw a cow so you could take out your phone and spam your friend’s with pictures of them. It reminded you of your own car trips when you were a child.
“Did your mom text you today?”
You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow inquisitively, “no… did she text you?”
“Yeah, she said you don’t call her as often lately.”
“God, since when are you friends with my mother?”
He smirked, “since you answered that facetime call and I was shirtless in the background.”
Your face grew hot, you could even feel the tips of your ears get warmer out of embarrassment, “let’s not talk about my mother right now.”
“Well, we can talk about my mother then,” he grinned.
You glanced back at him, his hand squeezing your thigh before leaving to push his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “What about your mother?”
“She invited you for Christmas this year, if you aren’t spending it with your family of course-”
“I’d love to come,” you interrupted.
He smiled. “Great.”
The airbnb was better than you expected. But when it came to Taehyung and his taste you could only ever expect decadence. A palazzio; bubbling champagne in small glass flutes; a box of chocolate splayed over a duck feather comforter; rose and sweet scented candles. He was a romance and beauty corporeal.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. from Endymion, J. Keats.
It was no time to quote the English poets but Keats had an eye for beauty you couldn’t ignore, and right here, right now, you were drunk off the view of everything around you.
Your balcony overlooked a rose garden, but as it was approaching the colder months of the year, instead of blossoming buds of red and pink you saw the deep green bushes surrounding a pond, the statue of lovely Eros and Psyche embracing each other, his wings like cupid spread out behind him. The bushes rushed around the pond like a labyrinth, twisted and confusing, with the autumn leaves falling in splashes of mahogany and burnt orange.
The sun, still, was high upon the sky, its rays peeking through the trees and drawing the earth in lovely shadows. Your luggage was still open, clothes spread out on your twin bed whilst you searched for the cameras you packed the night before. Engrossed with the settings of your latest birthday present you failed to notice Taehyung walking inside the room. The gentle rape of his knuckles agains the doorframe..
So he stayed there, transfixed with your task, a cigarette hanging off his lips. Looking up at him only once the smell of it registered, smiling and leaving the camera on the bed as you walked near.
He sucked on the cigarette, cherry bright red before blowing the smoke behind his shoulder, just in time for you to lean up, arms around his neck.
“You know I don’t like kissing you after you smoke.”
“I’ll brush my teeth,” he grinned, leaning down his lips brushing against your own, the smell of cigarette becoming a turn on whenever he was this close to you, “I’ll floss and everything.”
“You better,” you replied, leaning up on the tip of your toes and capturing his lips with your own as he took the cigarette out of his mouth.
It was like dancing, Tchaikovsky and his No. 14 pas de Deux. At one point he leaned down and scooped you into his arms, your legs fitting perfectly around his waist as he walked both of you back to his room. The taste of tobacco and smoke lingered still in his tongue and muddled all your other senses, only breaking back into clarity when he dropped you back in his bed.
Assaulted by the smell of clean linen and a cold breeze passed through his open window. Your hands reached up, searching for the angle of his jaw and to pull him closer against you, but instead he simply clasped your hands, bringing it to his lips and kissing it sweetly. You leaned up on your elbows, watching him retreat back to where his bags were propped.
Watching him, moved as if at home with the place he rented, the big mirror facing the bed captured the concentrated look of his brown as he looked through his things.
You, impatient as ever, turned around and looked over the mess of his bedsheets, picking up what appeared to be a pair of brown leather shorts.
“Will I get to see you wearing this today?”
Taehyung glanced back, laughing softly and turning back to the task at hand, “I fear you won’t see me in any clothes for the rest of the day.”
“I’m more than fine with that.”
He kept rummaging, and you turned over to look more through the things he had left scattered, picking up what seemed to be a letter. You couldn’t read a word of it, seeing as he had written in hangul, but you looked over the fancy blue ink, and liked how it didn’t look like the chicken scratch that Hoseok’s handwriting tended to be.
Down, at the bottom of said letter, Taehyung had drawn a silly cartoon of a tiger climbing a tree. This fact made you laugh aloud, enough to have your lover turn around and loudly explain that it was private, to give it back.
“I can’t even read it! What does it say?”
“I’m not done with it yet.”
“But what does it say?” you insisted.
“It’s just something I do with my dad, ok? It’s more fun.”
“Oh, so the big celebrity has travelled to ye-old-times?” you tease.
He couldn’t help but laugh, finding whatever it was that he was looking for and turning around holding out the white silk cloth in front of you.
“What’s that?”
“For you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Well, actually, it’s more for us,” said Taehyung, walking back to the bed and making you drop the piece of paper in your hand.
“What does it do?”
“You’ll see,” he continued, leaning down and kissing you once more.
You groaned, biting back down on his lip aware that he liked it and just slowly making out with him as he led you back down on the bed.
He laid you gently, comfortably between the pillows, and started to take off your clothes slowly. His mouth follows and kisses every new patch of exposed skin. Down your neck as you let your hair down, shirt off and mouth nipping and licking on the newness of your exposed collarbone. Your shoulders, the hollow of your neck, down your sternum as his hands expertly unhooked your bra and gently dropped it on the bed.
He moved down your body, kissing the moles on your body and only stopping to take off his own white shirt. You grinned, loving the warm honey tone of his skin, hands caressing the side of his arms. But he stopped, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and pinning your hands back up above your head.
“What’s the matter?” you asked, breathing already laboured from kissing him, from feeling him, you needed him badly.
“You can’t touch me tonight.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
He raised an eyebrow, giving you a funny face that only made you start laughing for real. With one hand he easily grasped both of yours, and quickly shifted his weight to reach for the piece of white silk he had gathered from his luggage.
Now that you had a better look of it, you noticed the silver hoop that held both pieces of fabric together. And then it clicked, and you just stared at him as he concentrated and slipped the hoop above you in the headboard, both your wrists being tied neatly in the white silk to keep them high above you.
“You’re getting kinky, honey.”
“It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“Really? Then what else are we trying today?”
Taehyung hummed, checking your wrists were safely snug and then reaching under your pillow. From there, a big purple dildo.
“Borahae”.
You bursted out laughing, both of you did. His eyes crinkling and reaching to wipe a tear and kissing the side of your face until you thought of a very uncomfortable thing.
“Wait, you aren’t putting that up my ass.”
“And I’m not going to, doubt you prepped for anal.”
“Good… Just checking…”
“I wouldn’t do something like that without talking about it first.”
“Then what are these handcuffs?”
“You said you wanted to try it, and also how you wanted me to fist you and somehow rip your heart out from your pussy.”
Your cheeks grew red, your friends had definitely betrayed you. “Wait, so, I’m getting fisted?”
“I’m thinking about it, the dildo is just to help you stretch a bit while I warm you up.”
“How am I getting warmed up?” you grinned, wanting to know everything before it actually happened as your heart was racing against your chest, aroused but deadly nervous to this entire thing. You were small, and much, much, smaller than Taehyung at that.
He smiled coyly, his voice honey-sweet, “that’s a surprise.”
But you had no second to think about it, with him moving down and crashing his lips on yours. He kissed you hard, drunkenly, biting and nipping on your lips before slipping his tongue inside your mouth.
He muffled out all your moans, eyes screwed shut in pleasure and tugging on the cuffs wanting to touch him as your body leaned up to kiss him back.
You didn’t like being submissive, you tended to like more taking control of the situation, but it was in moments like this, and specifically under Taehyung’s (haha) influence that you melted like butter. He guided and moved you every which way, your mind barely registering how he took off your pants and underwear, not noticing he had grabbed lube until he broke the kiss.
A string of saliva still connected your mouth, your tongue poking out of your mouth and licking it back while looking at him. A true picture of beauty and desire, his hair falling right over his eyes, only the coy smile of his visible as he squirted lube on his fingers and on the purple toy.
You gasped, his fingers cold to the touch and making your toes curl as he pressed his fingers against your clit.
Not being tied at the ankles, you comfortably spread your legs wider, giving him enough space to look at what he was doing, making him chuckle at how eager you were getting. “You’re getting wet,” he said.
You simply moaned, eyes closing in pleasure and sinking down into the bed whilst he touched you, a small gasp leaving your lips as you felt his fingers pressing down against your entrance and pushing in.
Your hips shifted down, making him reach deeper inside you and making you shiver in pleasure.
But just as quickly his fingers left, making you open your eyes to complain and just gasping as he pushed the dildo inside you, back arching and grunting as you accommodate to its size, which was not that far off from Taehyung’s to begin with.
“That’s my good girl.”
Flushing, you peaked an eye at him, “you’re enjoying this.”
“We both are Y/N”
You cursed as he used your name, he knew it made your knees go weak, and currently he was making your entire lower body weak.
Honestly you had no idea what he was planning, which made this all even more unnerving, gasping once you felt his warm mouth on your clit, sucking and flicking it harshly with his tongue before pressing the flat of it against the bundle of nerves. He was giving you head and penetrating you at the same time, go figure. Taehyung managed to do the two things he liked best at the same time somehow.
You gasped, moaned, pulling down harshly on the handcuffs as you felt warmth building in the pit of your stomach, Taehyung slowly moving the toy in and out of you as he concentrated his mouth on making you unravel.
And unravel you do, your lower body tingling and making your breathing more laboured as he elicited the most lewd and wettest sounds from you. The squelches of your arousal and his saliva mixing together and echoing in the empty room as you cursed out his name.
“C-Close,” you gasped out, the silk burning on your wrist as you tugged and squirmed underneath him.
Tae leaned back, his chin shiny with your arousal, the dildo still thrusting in and out of you which had your toes curling, “cum for me,” he said, voice raspy with want.
Your vision blurred, back arching off the bed as you cried out his name, completely forgetting you would be sharing this airbnb with a few other people and screaming as loud as you could.
Taehyung helped you ride it all out, grinning widely as he saw your body jump and twitch from his touch, doing as he wanted whenever he commanded, and slowly slipping out the dildo as you calmed down.
But even whilst you were recollecting yourself, his fingers slipped in and replaced the toy. You grunted, feeling spent but glancing back at him you got only more aroused by the glint in his eyes.
“You’re so wet for me.”
“S-Shit, are you seriously going to-”
“Yes,” he interrupted, fingers curled and pressing against your spot making you moan again. He was slow, careful and methodical with his approach. Reading the way you reacted and sticking to what made you moan the loudest, shift your hips closer to his hand.
He stopped, used more lube, and started again. You came again. And he kept persisting until he was closer. You, on the other hand, were sweaty, weak, and had seen God at least twice already with how violently Taehyung made you cum.
And he felt big, bigger than usual, four of his fingers inside of you and you groaned and complained, with him stopping and checking with you every two seconds.
“How are you holding up, darling?”
“G-Good, fuck, so good Christ you’re big.”
He laughed softly, moving slowly, letting you accommodate, and went down to his forearm, “I’m going to do it now love, that ok?”
“P-Perfect, I won’t last.”
But taehyung stopped for a second, worrying you, “d-did something happened,” you glanced back at him, just to notice him inches away from you, mouth crashing on yours and muffling out any moan.
You melted more against him, complete putty for him to shape and mould out to his heart’s desire. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, felt him with his clean hand brush a few of your hairs away from your face and kiss your temple. Moving back down and counting softly before he slipped his hand out and pushed his fist inside you.
Without a second thought you came, your back arching and groaning at the first discomfort of this position and just screaming at how full you felt. How filled with him. The lines blurring inside your head, no longer sure where he began and you ended, and instead, you simply felt the entirety of him eveloping you whole.
His warmth, the weight of his body over you, the musky clean smell of his sweat, and just how lovely his voice was. Full of praise, encouraging you as you came down from your high, slowly moving and eyes bright and drunk with pleasure.
And just as soon as that, he slipped his hand out, sticky and smelling like you as he cupped your face once more and tilted your head up for another greedy kiss.
Lips smacking, tongue searching inside your mouth, and vibrating with his groan as you lazily responded back. The tips of your fingers tingled before he reaches up and lets your hands free.
They fell down in a thud, with you feeling heavy as lead but light as a feather, only leaning up to pull Taehyung’s body closer and grinding down against the fabric of his pants, leaving a wet streak of your arousal on it.
“Y/N, Love,” he laughed, leaning back, “give a second I should take my pants off-”
“Yes, do that,” but instead of letting him go you pulled him back to you, kissing his mouth, down to his chin and biting on his neck hard enough to make him wince.
But Taehyung moaned, turned on even more by the pain and with a heavy clink of his belt he was pushing his trousers and boxers out of the way. You wanted him, still intoxicated with the feeling of his skin as you made use of having your hands back to yourself to dig your nails on his shoulder blades and drag them down his back.
Taehyung responded just as quickly, head tilting to the side as you marked him yours and reached out for a condom, shifting himself to be perfectly on top as your legs wrapped around his waist.
You were weak, on a cloud, leaving a red bite mark on his perfect chest before he gripped on both your wrists and pinned them once more above your head with a single hand. You groaned, turned on by his show of strength, and whimpered out a pathetic sound that resembled his name as he entered you.
It was hard, tortuous, and you couldn't stop screaming even if they paid you.
Neck exposed he left a constellation of hickeys and kisses on your skin, his hips snapping against yours in a way that was going to definitely cripple you by next morning.
He squeezed your wrists tighter, the sharp sting of it making you tighten around him and made him stutter in his pace. You laughed, leaning up and biting on his lip, dragging it between your teeth and hearing him take a shaky breath before he snapped his hips harder. Effectively shutting you up.
And he continued like that, the old bed starting to shift with you both, headboard hitting the wall and echoing the thumps of his cock inside you as you felt your orgasm coming.
Taehyung’s laboured breath just egged you on, leaning up and kissing his neck and shoulders, biting down on his shoulder and making him moan loudly.
“F-Fuck, please, be close.”
“I-I am,” you gasped.
“Cum, fuck I want to feel you around me,” Taehyung’s voice was breezy, almost whiny, like he couldn’t hold on for longer. And how could you stop yourself when he sounded so desperate while simultaneously destroying you?
Stars was an understatement of what you saw when you finished. Colours and blurs of light mingled together, you might as well have passed out for a second with how violently you came. And he came just as hard, letting out a loud moan mixed in with what seemed to be your name.
He collapsed on top of you, his sweaty chest flush against yours. Neither one of you moved, just feeling him grow soft inside you without any intention of leaving.
You moved your arms around him, hugging him and fingertips slowly brushing over the scratches you had left on his back. You protested when he moved to get up, with you only letting go once he kissed you swiftly.
He walked back up to the bathroom, his cute ass all perky as he discarded the condom and came back with a wet towel, the mess underneath you becoming a problem for another day.
“Remember you have to pee.” Taehyung only wiped you clean, glancing back at you with a princely smile.
“Please, let’s not talk about me getting an UTI, I want to cuddle.”
“I’ll carry you to the toilet and I’ll hug you while you pee.”
“Okay I’ll take that.”
He laughed again, leaning back to you and kissing the tip of your nose before picking you up and cradling you in his arms. “Oh, that reminds me.”
>>genre: pwp, smut, gamer!jk, light fluff at the end, established relationship
>>word count: 5.7k
>>warnings: dom!jk, BRAT oc, but rly she just wants to be good 😔, big dick koo, spitting, spit eating, boobs, unprotected sex, cream pie, um...oh!, crying, crying during sex, not from pain tho, oc just gets overwhelmed :(, aftercare kinda?, boobies, comfort, idk man, riding, weird pet names lmao, oc is so tiny, big jiggly fat tits, OMG COCKWARMING, that’s literally the reason i wrote this lol, breasts, when jk cums.... v sexy, low key one sided sex 🤷🏻♀️
>>notes: all gamer lingo is from reddit, bc me and oc are the same in the way that we have no idea what the boys that are ignoring us for video games are saying so if it doesn’t make sense idc 🥲 yell @ me in an ask or sumn
>>summary: just another fic where oc rides jk in his gaming chair 🙄 pls still read it tho lmao its hot i promise
Hours. Several increments of 60 minutes. Multiple thousands of seconds. It’s been hours since Jeongguk has even acknowledged your presence. You huff and sigh dramatically, rolling around on his bed, accidentally knocking his Zero Two body pillow off. Good riddance. She’s part dinosaur. But still, nothing takes his attention from his prettily lit gaming set-up. You’ve come to your last resort.
Laying back on his pillows, you bunch your skirt up around your waist and then slip your hand down your teeny tiny, baby pink silk panties. They say ‘slut’ in small little silver rhinestones on the front. A gift from you’re extremely rude, extremely sexy talented gamer boyfriend. You let out an over the top moan, hoping to break through the sounds of his game. He does not move a single inch. Ever persistent, you stay at task, actually getting a little turned on with your quick moving little fingers rubbing over your clit. You let moans fall from your mouth freely, thinking about one of the few times he actually let you support him from under the desk. You drooling all over his swollen, uncut cock. Him leaving his mic on at your request. Him struggling to get out coherent sentences to his teammates. Him struggling to keep from moaning as he came silently down your throat. Mmm.
“Tae, Min, rush the blue zone?” He speaks into the mic. You can hear the clicking of his keyboard, as his fingers flit over the control keys. His head moves slightly as his eyes jump between his two monitor set-up trying to take everything in. And just like that, at the sound of his pretty voice, cute lisp and all, your mood is broken. You wanna hear that voice in your ear, calling you names (mean or sweet, you’re not picky), not talking about blue rushes or whatever. Your eyes roll.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself and slow your rapid breathing before you crawl to the foot of the bed, closer to him. His room is rather small, so the elaborate set-up he has extends almost to the end of his mattress, barely enough room for the gigantic chair to swivel around. However this is a plus for you because it makes it so you can rest your chin on his shoulder without disturbing him too much.
“NO! Do not rush blue! Are you stupid or just a fucking idiot?” Jeongguk flinches from how loud Jimin’s shrill voice is, coming from his headphones. Even you can hear it. “We just lost Hobi. We are outnumbered 6 to 3. In what fucking universe would a rush be a good idea? Are you trying to get flamed in a ranked match?”
“Okay damn, I forgot Hobi got no-scoped,” Jeongguk chuckles. He gently, minisculely, oh-so softly shrugs his shoulder, hinting that he wants you to get off, without saying it, knowing you would very-likely, potentially be offended and a little upset. But you don’t move. If he wants you off he can be a big boy and tell you. Maybe you even dig your chin into the tendons of his shoulder on purpose just to be a brat. He still doesn’t say anything apart from a tiny hiss of pain. In fact he deals with you pestering him until you start to mouth at the side of his neck, biting gently. Wet, open mouth kisses leaving a shiny trail on his pulse.
“Okay, you can’t do this right now.” He says, shrugging his shoulder hard, making you accidentally bite your lip. You whimper. “I’m in a ranked match, and we are already getting our asses handed to us. I can’t focus on you right now.” He doesn't even look at you, face glowing in the light of his pc. He probably doesn’t even register how harsh his words sound, too engrossed in the game.
You’re still close enough to hear from his head set when Taehyung says, “Is that __?” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Yeah.” Is all Jeongguk says in response.
“Hasn’t she been at your place for like 4- On your right! On your ri- nice Kook- for like 4 days?”
“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.” His tongue sticks out as he types in a combo attack. He smiles when he lands a kill.
Not for long you think. If he keeps this up, you’ll be finding other ways to spend your time. Like giving yourself a manicure with those cute little sanrio decals he got you the other day. A pretty manicure that would look so cute wrapped around his even prettier thick, hard, pink cock. Keywords being would look, not are going to look. He’s getting ignored for at least 15 minutes. You pout thinking about how you’ve been ignored for at least 3 hours. But still! You remain resolute in your punishment. No kisses, no handjobs, no nothing.
“I literally always hear her bitching about you playing,” Jimin chimes in, snickering. “Tell her to go paint her nails or something.”
Your jaws drops. Then Jeongguk has the audacity to chuckle. You see red.
“FUck this! And fuck you, and fuck your friends, and fuck your stupid ass no-scope, flame ass, rush ass game. And especially fuck you Park Jimin, I hope you never receive a blowjob ever again!” You stand up, pushing your skirt down, and buttoning your sweater all the way to the top. He will not be seeing your cleavage as you make your exit.
“AFK AFK-“ Jeongguk says quickly, getting tangled in his wires for a minute before accidentally tripping on the leg of his chair. You can hear the distant protest of his teammates coming from the abandoned headset. He hisses at the pain from almost falling, and grabs you by the arm, pulling you back.
“Let go of me!” You try to yank your arm out of his hold, very much throwing a fit. But he’s too fit, and you end up facing him, mouth set in a firm pout, and your eyebrows are scrunched in anger. You’re very tiny, but you hope you look evil. You’re eyes watering out of frustration probably doesn’t help though. His hands are firm and strong on your shoulders, keeping you in place.
Close the fucking gyms.
“Hey, hey,” He says, like he’s trying to soothe you. His big hands rub up and down your arms. You hate how it makes your anger die down just a smidge. “What’s wrong, why are you leaving?” He asks. He’s bent a little at the waist so he’s face to face with you, his big eyes searching yours.
Your bottom lip wobbles and your chin gets those ugly dents in it as it quivers. You sob. “B-because you’re n-not even paying att-t- attention to me!” Big cry baby tears roll down your cheeks. Jeongguk looks like he’s trying not to laugh and you give up. Head falling back, mouth hanging open in miserable wails as you drop to the ground defeated. You’re sat in a ‘w’ your skirt pillowing around you. You think you’re much too cute to lose your boyfriend to a video game. But you did your best, fought a valiant fight. It happens to the best of girls, you suppose.
“Chicken,” He coos the odd nickname he had bestowed upon you in the first month of dating. He drops to the floor as well and you can still hear the laugh in his voice. It only makes you cry harder.
“You’re laughing at me while I’m c-crying?” You blubber.
“I’m not!” He says, very much still laughing. He cups your face in his palms, thumbs wiping away your tears only for new ones to quickly take their place. He does his best to still his features into a more serious expression. A hint of a smile still lingers. “I’m not. I just think you’re cute, that’s all.” He kisses your nose.
You blink wide eyed, at the little affection. Then you remember you’re supposed to be having a tantrum. You sniffle.
“Will you please get back on the bed? I’m almost finished.” He asks gently.
You groan. “You’re still going to finish your game? While I’m crying?!” You blink rapidly, willing some more crocodile tears out of your eyes, that had been mostly dry prior.
“Chicky,” He whines, “It’s a ranked match, you know I can’t just quit.” He looks like he’s about to beg you to understand.
And you do. Gaming was really important to him, and he was really good at it, even earning a side income from streaming. But you’re a brat. One that has been neglected and ignored for hours. One that is always desperate for his attention and affection. Not to mention you’re still wet in your panties.
“Your friends were mean to me. They laughed at me.” You whisper, pout turned on heavy.
“They didn’t mean i-“
“And you laughed with them.” You cut him off, tears once again welling in your bambi eyes. You know you’re being a baby, but him laughing really did hurt your feelings.
His face falls and he looks like he’s grasping at straws trying to find a way to defend himself, but ultimately he gives up. He sighs and his head falls. “I know. That was mean of me, and I shouldn’t have done that. But I didn’t mean it,” He looks at you again. His fingers play with the edge of your skirt. “You know I didn’t. And you know I’m sorry. Right, chicken?”
You fight an unwanted smile and swat his hand away. Your resolve is crumbling quickly, but you still have it in you to be petty.
His shoulders sag. “What do I have to do to make you see I’m sorry?” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers running down your cheek and your neck to fiddle with the top button of your done up cardigan. He catches your face lighting up and quickly interjects, “Besides quit the game.”
You huff.
His fingers undo the button he was playing with. “Do you want me to yell at them? Hmm?” He nuzzles your cheek, placing a soft kiss to the apple. He’s undoes another button. With the pull and tension the sweater had on your tits gone, they fall just a little and jiggle lightly. You still say nothing. “What if I let you sit with me while I play?” Another button. “And why are you so covered? Can’t I see?”
You’re a weak, weak girl.
You don’t protest as he removes the sweater from you completely, and pulls the collar of your shirt down so that your big tits spill out the top. He cups his hands around them and squeezes. So squishy and so so soft. Plush. He groans and buries his face in between them.
“You could suffocate me with these and I would say thank you, I love them that much.” He swats at them lightly watching as they bounce before settling back into place, perky and waiting for his mouth. But he doesn’t give in easily, pinching a nipple instead.
“Ouch!” You whine. You cup your little hands around them, to protect yourself. There’s so much overflow it’s obscene.
He spanks your butt lightly. “Alright, up. Let’s finish this game so that I can make you my own little creme-filled donut.”
Your eyes light up and you hurry to get to your feet. Cream-pies were a treat.
He settles all the way back in his gaming chair, and opens his arms for you. You straddle his waist, facing him, knees on opposite sides of his hips and you scoot as close to him as you can, arms wrapping around his neck. Your boobs are pressed to his chest, still out and bouncing freely with every shift of your body. Incentive for him to end the game quickly. You can feel a little semi in his pants. A sweet pink feeling bubbles in your chest. He got kinda hard just from touching your tits a little bit. True love. You settle over his cock, wiggling a pinch more to get comfy. He hisses and grips hard at your hips, trying to keep you still.
“If you’re up here you have to be good.” He warns, pushing you back some so he can look you in your eyes. You avoid eye contact, looking everywhere but him. The led lights look really pretty on the baby blue setting.
“Chicken…” He lowers his voice, sounding stern.
You whine, dropping on his lap even harder. “Fine but like- you have to hurry.”
“I will, now quit moving and hand me the headset.”
You reach back and grab it. “Don’t forget to yell at them.” You remind him with a kiss.
He gives you an exasperated look before turning the mic on again. “Back.” He says, adjusting the mouth piece.
“Finally! Jesus. Tae’s dead-“
“I’m still here though.” Taehyung interrupts.
Jimin carries on swiftly. “And I’m low on health, what took you so fucking long?”
“You were an asshole and I had to fix it.” You look at him while he looks past you, typing away.
“Me?!” Jimin squawks.
“Yes you. Both of you. You laughed at her.”
“So did you!” Taehyung defends.
“Yeah and it was fucked up.”
“Meet me by the tower to give me a med-kit. God she’s such a prissy little baby, Kook. You are so pussy-whipped.”
Before Jeongguk can reply you speak into the mic. “And you’re such a prissy little dwarf Jimin, shut the fuck up.”
You hear Jimin's loud cackle through the speakers on Jeongguk’s ears. “You’re all of what? 3’6? I don’t even know how Kook can be so whipped for someone who can’t even take his dick properly.”
Taehyung laughs, and Jeongguk starts to speak up, but you beat him to it. “You’re awfully concerned with what my boyfriend does with his dick. If you wanna ride it, just say so.”
“Oh you know I would, baby.” He’s still laughing when he says it.
Everyone’s kinda chuckling except you, small hands fisting Jeongguk’s shirt. He gives you a side-glance, and notices the angry scowl you have on your face. He brings a hand down and squeezes your butt for a second, showing you you still have his attention, at least somewhat. “Alright, that’s enough. Both of you.”
“Tell them I’m the only one that can ride it.” You pout, fingers scratching at the base of his neck, hands playing with his long hair. He nudges into the touch a little. Pretty kitty.
“Shhh, they know and you know. Everyone knows you’re the only one that gets to ride my dick.” He kisses you quick, and you hum content.
You hear a gagging noise in the background. Taehyung probably.
Then there’s a ping.
It happens so fast, you really can’t even be mad at Jeongguk.
“Oh that’s Yoongi! He wants to play ranked.” Jimin says.
“Uh-“ Jeongguk tries to speak.
“Just leave this match and we can join one with him, I’m tired of just sitting here. I don’t care if we drop down the rank list a little.” Taehyung says.
“Guys wait don’t a-“
“Okay same, I just accepted. Yoongi, you there?”
You hear a confirming grunt from the speakers. Jeongguk looks at you, panic in his eyes. Your stare back is sharp as daggers. Cold and hard.
He whines. “You guys are shit ass friends. You know she’s not gonna suck my dick for like a week now.”
His friends laugh and your little brain forms a thought. A very good one indeed.
You card your hands through his newly bleached blonde hair, still soft and silky despite the chemicals. Demeanor quickly changing from small and evil to small and cotton-candy sweet. You kiss his nose sweetly. “It’s okay, baby. Do your best. Show them how good you are. I wanna see you win.”
He looks at you with wide doe eyes. “Really?” You nod. “If I win this match I might go up a tier.” He smiles and sounds so happy. You almost feel bad for being a brat earlier. And for what you’re going to do now.
You’re good for a while. Let him play his little heart out. You let him do his thing for long enough to ensure that he’s fully engrossed in it once again. His little mouth is hanging open slightly , and his eyes move frantically across the screens. He keeps talking gibberish to his teammates, the ones that you’ve all but tuned out at this point. You take your chances, and press your lips to the side of his neck.
Jeongguk stills for a split second, but otherwise pays you no mind. Which is no problem. You weren’t very patient often, but you could be when you needed to. In the right circumstances. You place another kiss, this one wetter, your tongue coming out to meet his skin before your lips do. You keep your kisses light and quiet so his teammates don’t hear. You take in his scent, so sweet and gentle and just him. After nuzzling in for a small moment, you nibble at the vein running up his neck. You gasp softly and your pussy pulses in your panties when he just barely tilts his head, giving you better access, and more room to kiss and suck.
You pull back a little to look at him, but he doesn’t even seem like he’s aware you're there. If it weren’t for his subtle eager movements, you would think he’s ignoring you again. But this is good. You like him like this. Eager but nonchalant at the same time. It’ll make it even better when he loses it after trying to keep it cool for so long. You squirm until you’re off his lap and on your knees looking up at him.
Finally he meets your eyes. He shakes his head.
“No.” He mouths when your hands reach for the waistband of his sweats.
You jut your bottom lip out and whisper, “I’m not gonna suck it, I promise.”
He regards you silently for a moment before not saying anything and returning right back to his game. You grip the elastic of his pants and when you gingerly start to pull them down, he lifts his hips just a little bit to help you. You have to bite your lip to keeping from moaning.
Something about him ignoring you while simultaneously helping you in the slightest, most basic ways makes you go crazy. Like pussy pooling, mouth drooling, brain shorting crazy. It’s almost like you’re so irresistible to him that he just can’t go without you. Needs you just as bad as you need him, even though he fights it. But giving in tastes sweet, just like you. That’s why he always does it. Just for you, all for you.
With his sweats down his thighs, you see his cock. He went without briefs today, making your job much easier. Sometimes the stars just align and you’re meant to have a cock in you. You sigh and you look at his, resting against his leg. Your mouth waters and you just want it in your mouth so badly, desperate for it… but you deprive yourself for the sake of what you have in mind. He’s not hard yet, cock just a little plump and heavy with arousal. You spit in your hand and rub it on his cock just enough to make it wet, not wanting him fully erect yet.
As you raise to your feet his eyes go back and forth between you and his monitors. He looks confused.
“Uh- Yeah let’s rush…” He says distractedly as you climb back onto his lap.
You look at him as you move your soaked panties to the side, and run a finger over your clit. Your mouth opens in pleasure but you don’t let yourself moan. Your expressions are enough to make his pupils blow out and his irises to darken. You bring your shiny fingers up to his mouth. “Taste?” You whisper.
Again, he does the bare minimum. Just barely parting his lips, not moving forward even an inch to suck them into his mouth. Once they are in, he sucks lightly, gently, almost like he’s teasing, like he’s kinda bored. His tongue licks lazily at the tips, and slips between them.
You lean down and move one side of his headphones off his ear. You whisper, “That’s it, drool all over them.” You shove them in farther and press down on his tongue, trying to take just a little bit of control, but the slight change in your tone, and your actions makes him bite down on your fingers. Letting you know that that was not how tonight was going to go. That was never how it went with you two. You pull them out with a gasp. You scowl at him angrily. All he does is raise an eyebrow, before returning to his game. Jimin’s screaming at him through the headphones asking him where the fuck he is.
“Hey, sorry I got distracted. Where are you guys?”
“Get your dick sucked on your own time, Kook….”
You tune them out once again, reaching your hand in between yours and your boyfriend's body. You grab his cock, just a little firmer than when you were on your knees. You grab under the tip, and push it into your core about an inch before Jeongguk’s covering his mic and whispers scolding, “I’m not hard, __.”
You look at him, and nod cutely. “I know, I just- I wanna just feel you a little bit. Keep it inside me while you play. Feel close to you.” You give him soft baby kisses all over his cheek while you push it in some more. You’re dripping so even though he’s still kind of soft, it’s not too hard to get it all the way in.
“I’m not fucking you while I play.” He warns you.
You shrug against him. “Don’t get hard then.”
And just like that, the games begin.
Jeongguk playing, doing his best to ignore you just enough to seem disinterested. You kissing his neck, biting his collarbones. ‘Accidentally’ rolling your hips. Of course it happens. Jeongguk really did put up a good fight. Barely gave in the whole time you’ve been bothering him. But you both know your pussy is too good to ignore. Warm and wet around his slowly swelling cock.
“Getting a little tight huh?” You whisper. You suck his earlobe into your mouth, tongue playing with the big ring as you subtly grind forward, your clit just barely rubbing against his lower belly area.
His jaw clenches and he swallows thickly. He raises his shoulders in faux nonchalance.
You smile, and hum. Your hand travels to his nipple, grazing over the small bud through his thin shirt. His mouth drops open, and his eyebrows furrow. Visibly, that’s the only reaction you get. No moan, or praise. Inside of you, however, you can feel him finally grow to his full length. Your cunt is stretched around his fat cock and when you drop your eyes to your tummy there's a small bulge protruding where his cock is, buried so deep inside of you. You poke it, before rubbing your palm over it. So full.
“You fill me up so good, Koo,” You whine high pitched and breathy.
Finally now that you have him exactly right where you want him, you get comfy and then cease all movement. Truly just cockwarming him. Holding him inside your tight little pussy, while he fakes ignorance about how badly he wants to fuck up into you. You can tell he is struggling to maintain his facade by the light mist of sweat by his hairline. By the way all his answers to his friends are curt and short. You can tell how bad he wants you because his legs spread wider on their own accord, causing you to sink even farther down onto his big cock. You gasp as the tip nudges something deep inside of you.
You're wrapped around his body, arms looped around his shoulders. You have your face pressed into his neck again, and you’re breathing in his scent when you inhale, pressing soft kitten kisses when you exhale. You won’t beg. You’re desperate, just like always, and you want him so fucking bad, but you won’t beg. Not this time.
He lasts barely a minute longer. Hand coming up to cover his mic again. “Move,” His voice is strained, lust dripping down his chin. He’s flushed from arousal, and hot to the touch.
You shake your head where it's hiding in his neck. “Not while you’re playing. I want you to pay attention to me only.” You’re whiny and difficult, you know. But so does he. He knew how fussy and unbearable you were when he first started seeing you, you never bothering to hide it. You commend him for sticking around for as long as he has. You love him for it too.
You hear him groan in annoyance before he exits the game with nothing more than a short, “I gotta go.” effectively cutting off his friends yells of complaint. It was a ranked match after all. You smile smugly into his neck.
He grips the hair at the back of your head, yanking to make you look at him. You’re still smiling that obnoxious self-satisfied grin, even through the pain blossoming on your scalp.
“You think you’re so clever,” His eyes are roaming all over your face, a small smirk on his lips. He drags your mouth to his, kissing you deeply, more tongue and teeth than anything. He bites hard on your bottom lip, pulling till it snaps back. “Move.” He demands against your mouth. His breath is a little shaky, giving away just how turned on he really is.
And you’re such a good listener. You’re bad and difficult, but you’re also so so good for him. Yearning for his approval, always. Lifting your hips just keeping the swollen tip in before dropping back down onto his cock. Your skin smacks against his, while you whimper pathetically. “You’re so deep inside me,” You whisper, bouncing again. Jeongguk’s head falls back and he moans deep and loud.
“Fuck, love your pussy so much.” He says, eyes closed, just basking in the feel of your slippery cunt sliding up and down his cock.
You set your pace, and you feel his big hands slip under your skirt to grip at your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, digging in hard. He’s lifting you up and bringing you back down, setting the pace that he wants. Not caring much at all about how it feels for you. A little doll for him to use, and you let him because you’re so good for him. He can use you however he wants, and the pace he wants is a hard one to keep up. Not only is it fast, but it’s hard. Gasps and whines fall from your mouth.
He gives you a little break, taking a moment to play with your tits, bouncing all over due to the force of you riding him. His lip is drawn between his teeth as he watches you bounce, his hands coming up to cup your underboob, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples. You throw your head back at the sensation, a gasp filling the room.
“God you’re such a pain in my ass, but you’re such a pretty girl, my pretty, pretty girl,” He moans as he takes you in, your hair a wild mess, his cock poking your belly every time you fall back onto it, sweat dripping down the valley of your tits. His hands grip your tiny waist, pinkies almost reaching in the back. It really is a wonder how you can take his giant cock like you do. So tiny and so perfect. Made just for him. His lips latch onto a nipple, and your body curls in, cradling him to your chest, soft pants falling from your mouth as you let him make you feel good. Your palms land on his cheeks, and you guide his head away from your boobs so you can look him in his eyes.
“Will you help me?” You ask, breathless. You’re still moving, but your hips have slowed.
He hums. “Why?”
“‘M tired…” You say quietly. “Please?”
“No.” He says, shaking his head.
Your face falls and you feel like you might cry. “Why?” You whine.
“Because I said so. You wanted this so bad you had to interrupt me twice to get it. So do it yourself.” He smacks your ass lightly, urging you to hurry up.
Your palms on his face squeeze, trying to convey how badly you just want him to fuck you like you deserve; punish you for being so bad when you should have just been good for him. You never learn. You squeeze until you’re sure it stings a little. “Please.”
“I said, no,” He spits, a glob of it landing on your face. And you gasp in shock before your pussy contracts. Jeongguk grits his teeth, hands digging into your ass. “Fuck you just got so tight from me spitting on you, you’re so-“ He’s caught off guard, watching as you gather his spit on your cheek onto your finger before sucking on it and drinking it down. He groans and you feel him throb inside of you. “Fuck make me cum.”
You’re so tired and your thighs and knees are killing you, but you try to set a decent pace, one fast enough to make him cum, but moderate enough for you to maintain it. Your pussy squelches every time you bottom out on his pelvis, your slick making his lower abdomen shiny and sticky. His t-shirt is barely pulled up, just the bottom portion of his abs showing, but you see them flex and tense as he gets closer.
That fact that you both are still mostly clothed makes something hot burn inside you. Both too desperate to get naked, too turned on to even give it thought. Clothes must be on Jeongguk’s mind as well. He bunches the front of your skirt in his hand pulling it up so he can see where your bodies meet. Your panties are now dark pink, your arousal seeping through and getting all over the place, and your poor little pussy is so red and swollen from the force of you slamming down onto his cock.
“Awe, poor little angel.” He braces his hand on your belly, his thumb slipping in between your puffy pussy lips to rub at your clit, finally helping you get off. “Does it hurt, baby?”
You’re still bouncing as you nod and whimper. It doesn’t actually hurt that much, but you want to be coddled, needy and desperate for his affection. Always so needy and desperate when it comes to him.
He coos. “You’re doing so good for me, just a little longer, I’m almost there. You can do it right?”
You’re not sure when you started crying, but you are. Out of both pleasure and exhaustion. Or maybe you’re crying because he moved his hand away from your clit, but whatever the reason, a tiny little sob slips past your lips, and again you’re nodding frantically, assuring that yes, you can do it.
He settles back farther into the chair, hands coming up to just fondle and hold your bouncing tits. Not helping you at all, making you work so hard to prove yourself to him. His mouth is parting and his eyes are hazy as he watches you make him feel good. “That’s it baby, make me cum… fuck yeah, make me cum-“ His eyes squeeze shut and his back arches off of the chair. The hands on your boobs tighten.
“Please Kookie, please cum inside me, fill me up.” You beg, using the last of your energy to keep up the fast pace. “Show me how good I am, how good I make you feel. Please.” You hiccup, as you cry for him.
He’s nodding along with your words, breathy moans coming out with every breath he takes. His face is pulled in pleasure, and he’s looking at you when his eyes start to flutter and his brows scrunch. He whispers, soft and sexy, “You’re gonna make me cum baby. Just like that… I’m so close-” His body tenses, and his hold on your tits hurts. “Fuck, I’m cumming- fuck, baby,“ His mouth falls open, whines tumble from his lips and he cums. His big cock throbs as he spills inside of you. You can feel every pulse of it, can feel every spurt of cum fill you to the brim.
You reach down and rub at your clit frantically, left to find your own orgasm. Fucking him got you close so you don’t need much, you’ve been on edge all night, really. Underneath you, Jeongguk is panting, trying to catch his breath, body twitching, overstimulated from you grinding on his cock. He’s looking at you in awe as he lazily plays with your tits, still not helping one bit, aside from the occasional brush of his fingers on your nipples. He listens as desperate whimpers fall from your lips, working so hard to cum. But still, it takes not even a few minutes before you’re there, shaking and trembling from your orgasm, pussy contracting and gripping tight on Jeongguk’s sensitive and softening cock, still nestled inside of you. He winces from the hold your pussy has on him, but just grits his teeth and bares it, still watching you with an awestruck look on his face. As you finish, so tight around him, you can feel your cunt push some of his cum out. Jeongguk can feel it drip down his balls to the chair. Messy.
You’re trembling from the force of your climax, and soft teeny hiccuping sobs still escape your lips as you wrap yourself around his body, face buried into his neck to try and quiet your cries. His soft cock is still inside of you, keeping most of his cum from leaking out. He knows you like it when he stays inside, knows it makes you feel closer to him in some way.
Jeongguk is running gentle fingers up and down your back, cooing soft praises to soothe you. “You were so good, such a good girl for me.” He kisses your head. “You don’t have to cry, chicky.”
You sniff a few times, “I’m sorry for being bad,” you whimper.
He smiles, laughs lightly. “Don’t be sorry, you’re okay.” He wipes under your eyes, trying to clean up some of the mascara running down your cheeks. He lets you calm down for a little while longer before he hums. “Want me to help you with your nails?”
You quiet yourself. Sniff. “The kuromi ones?”
“Mhmm.”
You nod, before adding, “Yes, but you have to make sure you actually listen to me and do them right this time, okay?”
He rolls his eyes playfully. You’re nothing if not insufferable and bossy and desperate and so so good for him.
—————————
isn’t oc so cute 😔 anyway! i hope you liked it! sorry the ending low key sucks... i never know how to end smut scenes like... just kiss or something? as always, comments, notes, and feedback are so so loved and appreciated, as are asks and messages! i want to be friends !! thank you for reading ily :*
part of the once upon a holiday collab with @underthejoon @fantasybangtan @kpopfanfictrash @lamourche @hobidreams and @junghelioseok!
summary⇢ it all started by accident, but it continues by choice—even before you began sleeping together, things with your friend taehyung have always been comfortable and easy. simple, and this new arrangement between you is certainly no exception to that rule. well...that's definitely what you thought before a major snowstorm traps the two of you in his apartment over the holidays. now? now, it is quickly becoming apparent that things are a bit more complicated than you realized.
pairing⇢ taehyung/reader
word count⇢ 18.8k 😩🤦🏽♀️
rating⇢ 18+
genre⇢ smut | fluff | fwb!au | snowed in!au
warnings⇢ sexual content, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, a decent amount of netflix and chilling because they’re stuck in the house and horny, a lot of domesticity because mmm, that’s that good stuff 😌, angst, pininggggg
a/n⇢ it’s finally here!! 🙌🏾 i really procrastinated and let it fester until i was forced to churn 19k out in a couple weeks, huh ☠️☠️ classic me lmao. here’s to better planning in the new year! 🤣mood for this fic is this. hope you enjoy! 😊
“Didn’t you wear that sweater last year?” Seokjin asks, though he already knows the answer. Really, the only reason he’s asking you is to give himself room to segue into the topic of your perceived lack of holiday cheer.
“Yup! And I’m gonna wear it next year, too,” you reply breezily, forever unbothered by the judgmental scrunch of his nose. You gesture down the length of your chest, where a woven Christmas tree with real flashing Christmas lights proudly sits beneath the words Get Lit. “This fucker cost sixty-nine ninety-five and I plan on getting my money’s worth.”
“How do you think you’re ever going to win our annual ugly sweater contest if you just keep recycling the same one?” Jin points out as he puts his final touches on a rather beautiful charcuterie board. As the member of your friend group who thrives off of playing the gracious host, he would usually also be dumping cheap vodka down someone’s throat. But due to your various schedules, your friend group has been forced to have your annual get-together a bit too late for those kind of shenanigans this year. Road trips and train rides and being squished on airplanes can already be a bit of a headache, but adding navigating the holiday rush with a raging hangover? Yeah…everyone is smartly playing it safe tonight. So wine and cheese it is—though that doesn’t bother you one bit. If it were socially acceptable and wouldn’t give you scurvy, you would live off that shit.
Seokjin’s own sweater this year is delightfully horrendous, a printed on mockery of a suit and bowtie. The visually-jarring combination of olive green and a murky red—all against a repulsive santa hat print—definitely makes him a solid contender for this year’s winner.
Still, that makes you no less satisfied with your own choice of attire. “You really think I’m gonna buy a new one every year when I only wear them once?” you ask incredulously, successfully swiping a grape before he can swat your hand away. “Hey, at least I bothered to change the batteries in this thing! That’s a lot of effort for a sweater.”
“You’re no fun,” he pouts, lifting the tray to take to the others.
You easily trail after him into the living room, sipping on the mulled wine he had poured for you before you had even slipped your shoes off. God, you loved when Seokjin hosted parties. “You weren’t saying that that time I drank Yoongi under the table.”
“That’s not hard to do. Yoongi has two good drinks and goes to bed.”
“Two drinks of hard liquor, so that’s irrelevant! I still drank more. And you’re conveniently forgetting that it was some sort of fancy scotch and it was icky, so I should be awarded bonus fun points.”
Yoongi himself, casually splayed across the sofa, looks up at the sound his name, but remains entirely nonplussed. His sweater has a big picture of that one internet cat making a face at vegetables that is always getting yelled at in memes by one of those rich white reality tv housewives. The hilarity of it almost makes you regret your choice not to get a new sweater this year. Almost. “You may have drank more,” he drawls, “but I seem to recall you being the one under the table at the end of the night.”
You internally wince at the memory—or, to be more accurate, the lack of—as you promptly make yourself comfortable between him and Taehyung, who is snickering at you. Tae had been the one to pull you from under said table, to take you home. “My point still stands.”
“That’s because you were pretty wasted before the scotch,” Jimin pipes up.
“Most people with common sense have to be wasted to drink scotch,” you quip, grinning pointedly at Yoongi. As expected, he doesn’t take the bait—simply gives you a flat stare and takes a sip from his own wine mug. It takes a lot to rile up your dark-haired friend, and so you often amuse yourself by teasing him to see if you can.
Jimin laughs. He’s curled up in an opposite armchair, his girlfriend Nia seated comfortably on his lap. Normally, you would find this blatant sort of PDA annoying, but these two are adorable, so you let it slide, simply happy that your friend has found someone who makes him happy. Nia has been a bizarrely seamless addition to your little group—enough so that Jimin felt comfortable including her in your holiday tradition of exchanging gifts. So unless they start to get handsy, you refuse to make a big deal out of it and be as big of a Scrooge as Seokjin claims you are.
You feel Taehyung shift, and when you turn, he is already looking at you, amusement dancing across his features. “Nice sweater,” he says.
“Thanks. I put a lot of thought into it.” You bite the inside of your lip to dampen your own smile. “Yours is pretty snazzy yourself.”
The sweater in question is printed with a complicated Where’s Waldo illustration, and you can’t help but run a finger across the material of his arm in search of the striped character.
“Cold,” Tae says, and when you respond by trailing your finger over to his chest, where a suspiciously-large group of santas are congregated, you feel his body tense a bit in response. “Warmer.”
“Check his nipples,” Hoseok yells from across the room. You roll your eyes good-naturedly, ignoring the way Jimin bursts into laughter at the suggestion. Taehyung flicks an eyebrow in challenge.
“Or the armpit,” Namjoon offers helpfully. “If I were hiding on a sweater, I’d pick an armpit.”
“Hmmm, that’s a fair point. Up!” you command, and Taehyung laughs and lifts his arms without complaint, allowing you to properly inspect his armpits for the elusive character. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to find what you’re looking for there, you take another sip of your wine and dutifully turn your attention back to his chest, intending to search in earnest.
But before you can, the speakers next to the couch spring to life, startling you a bit. Despite your initial confusion, you slowly start to recognize the familiar tune of Frosty the Snowman, jumbled over an EDM beat. It’s loud and extra and toeing the edge annoying, and your head immediately snaps to Jungkook, who declared himself the DJ of the party years ago and has stubbornly refused to give up the position ever since. He grins at you, clear mischief in his eyes, and you know then that he’s only playing the abomination to annoy the living shit out of everyone.
Though Seokjin’s busy being a good host and passing out cups of spiked eggnog, you can see how well Jungkook’s plan is working by the flush spreading up his neck. “I thought I told you to play Mariah,” he huffs over the racket as he hands Nia hers.
Jungkook looks nonchalantly at his phone, where he’s projecting his supposedly carefully curated playlist via bluetooth. “She’s on here.”
“What about Dean Martin?” Taehyung asks. “You know, the classics? Or literally anything else.”
You snort. Taehyung’s music taste has been known to sometimes overlap with Jungkook’s, so for him to be so visibly disgusted, you know it’s bad. “What about that one chipmunk song?” you suggest.
Jungkook winks at you, shoots you some finger guns. “Already got you, boo.”
“Oh god,” you groan, glaring at Yoongi when he starts snickering at you. “I was totally kidding.”
“Well, I wasn’t!” Jungkook says cheerfully. He has to yell a little bit to be heard over the booming bass. “When it comes to Christmas bops, I never kid.”
You groan louder. “Jungkookie. Please!”
“I don’t know—I kinda like it,” Alexa pipes up, and you have to put forth actual effort to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. Alexa is Hoseok’s newest fling, and while Nia slots into your group dynamic easily, Alexa, in your opinion, is a bit of an airhead. She’s pretty, but you would bet actual money that she’s the type to think Chicken of the Sea is chicken—and you’re pretty sure she’s not even filming for a reality show, so she truly has no excuse. But that seems to be Hobi’s type—someone who is easy on the eyes and won’t try to force him to commit. To be honest, you’re pretty surprised that she’s lasted long enough to make it to your friend group’s borderline-sacred holiday get-together, but you’re even more surprised that Hobi actually bothered to bring her.
“Thank you, Alexa,” Jungkook says pointedly, and frankly he probably has a better chance at annoying Yoongi tonight than you do. “You have great taste.”
You must be making some sort of face, because Namjoon takes one look at you and sucks his lips into a straight line, just like he always does when he’s trying not to laugh inappropriately at something.
“At least turn it down a little,” Seokjin sighs. “You already made my neighbors file a noise complaint on me on Halloween. I’m not trying to get another one.”
“Hey, you were the one screaming on Halloween, not me.”
“Because we were watching a movie about demons! You told me we were gonna watch Air Bud!”
“To be fair,” Taehyung pipes up, “nobody watches that on Halloween. So you walked into that one.”
“You know that’s my favorite movie,” Jin protests loudly. “And for the record, Hobi screamed louder than me!”
Hoseok just shrugs. “I don’t handle the supernatural well. Especially when the supernatural are little kids. Give me old lady ghosts any day.”
Seokjin and Jungkook keep bickering, but that honestly is just a testament to how close they are. In fact, your whole little group is rather close, and it’s actually bizarre to think about how these are your closest friends, because when you stop to consider it, you’re all here, in Seokjin’s living room sipping on delightfully festive cocktails, by pure chance.
Your sophomore year of college, Yoongi, your roommate’s boyfriend, was often over your apartment. The two of you became friendly, and when they ended up breaking up, he never broke up with you. (You’ve never felt particularly bad about that, because your roommate was more of an acquaintance than anything else. You lost touch with her once the lease was up, anyway.) Namjoon and Hoseok were in the same music theory class as Yoongi, and the three of them have made music together ever since. Seokjin used to be Namjoon’s favorite bartender at his favorite bar. Jimin frequented the same dance class as Hoseok. Taehyung is Jimin’s best friend from childhood. Tae befriended Jungkook over some online game he was obsessed with at the time, and when they realized they lived in the same general area, he made the—in your opinion—stupid decision to meet up with him. (It all turned out for the best, of course. Because that’s the kind of luck Taehyung has—he draws people to him without trying, his good energy attracting only more good energy.)
And that’s exactly how you would describe this friend group the universe allowed you to stumble into—good energy. Good vibes. Well, that was certainly how you would describe it when Jungkook wasn’t blasting a screamo version of Silent Night. Which he was. Right. Now.
“Hey,” Namjoon yells over the ruckus, leaning closer to Tae to be heard better. “Where’s Jisoo? Did she not want to come?”
One breath, two. Something in the universe shifts, just slightly.
“Jisoo?” you repeat. Your brain shuffles through any logical possibilities before confusedly settling on the pretty girl Hobi had set Taehyung up with months and months ago. The pretty girl he had gone on a single date with and then never mentioned to you again.
“She flew home last week.” Tae looks uncomfortable. Your stomach twists. “And hyung, I told you it’s not like that.”
One date and he had never mentioned her again, so you had reasonably assumed that had been the end of it. But clearly, from the way Namjoon’s brows furrow in confusion, from the way Taehyung so carefully does not look at you, this is not the case. Clearly, he just never mentioned her to you.
There is an awkward silence in your corner of the room, because it’s blatantly obvious that you’ve been left in the dark on this and now, by accident, you’re suddenly not.
Sensing the weird energy, Namjoon reaches for a cookie shaped like a candy cane and stuffs it in his mouth, quiet.
You can feel Yoongi’s eyes boring through your skin, but you ignore him, refusing to look in his direction. You smile instead, though it feels off around the edges. You hope it doesn’t look that way too. “Huh. Congrats. I didn’t realize you were still seeing her—you never mentioned it.”
Taehyung rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not really serious.”
“Three months is serious enough,” you reply airily. Three months since Hoseok set them up. Four since— You look away, finishing the last dregs of your wine. “Sorry she couldn’t make it.”
Tae’s lips part, but whatever he has to say never comes to fruition. Seokjin claps his hands and yells for Jungkook to turn the music down so you can get the festivities started.
Clearing your throat, you use the distraction to stand up and make your way back into the kitchen, where the mulled wine is still being warmed by a crockpot. You have a flight to catch in the morning, but you figure one more glass can’t hurt.
When you come back, you find that Jungkook has taken your spot, and you also find that you’re perfectly fine with that. You sit in the chair next to Jimin and Nia instead, keeping your gaze solidly on Seokjin as he starts reminding everyone of the rules for your ugly sweater contest—something your little group takes rather seriously. Point categories include ugliness, creativity, hilarity, and raunchiness, with bonus points to be given for any good puns.
One by one, you each stand so your choice of attire can be properly judged. You miss, you drink declares Hoseok’s sweater, the mini tennis balls stuck to the giant velcro target in the center a clear invitation for someone to give the game a go. Namjoon’s sweater has a visibly judgmental santa between the words I Saw That, You Nasty. Jungkook’s has Santa enthusiastically riding a shark like a horse. Jimin’s is modeled after a Christmas tree, actual green tinsel elegantly latticed throughout and supplemented with a number of small, strategically-placed Christmas ornaments. Nia’s is clearly homemade, and clearly an eyesore, tinsel and felt letters stapled to the fabric. Feel the Joy, it says, a pair of gloves strategically-pinned over her breasts.
All excellent, excellent contenders. Your friends all start to argue, everyone making their case for who should be crowned this year’s winner. And, normally, you would be right in the thick of it. But instead, tonight you just sip your wine, subdued.
“I like this one,” Alexa pipes up, pointing at Jimin. “It’s cute.”
“It’s not supposed to be cute. It’s supposed to be ugly!” Seokjin insists, an edge of annoyance in his tone. And you don’t blame him—Alexa didn’t even bother to wear her own sweater because it was ugly. Why is she allowed to vote anyway? Why is she even here?
“Tinsel is ugly,” Jimin whines.
Yoongi shakes his head with a scoff. “Yours isn’t. It’s delightful.”
“Why is no one taking into consideration that my sweater has a shark on it,” Jungkook cuts in.
Distracted, you pitch in your opinion when prompted and laugh when it seems you should. In the end, after much bickering and multiple rounds of voting, Nia is declared the winner. She lifts her eggnog in victory and Jimin grins wide, as proud of her accomplishment as if it were his own. (Namjoon had argued that her sweater was more horny than ugly, but Seokjin had to begrudgingly admit that it was both.)
Hoseok, never a sore loser, starts hooting in support, which only sets off Jungkook, and then, like dominoes, everyone else. You cheer too, laughing. Despite everything, so happy to be here, in this room, with people who entered your life by chance and stayed by choice. You’re filled with such affection that you can’t help but grin when Jungkook promptly plays The Chipmunk Song, just for you.
“I’ll be right back,” you tell no one in particular, still laughing, still warm inside. The wine has you a bit buzzed, but mostly you just feel like your bladder is about to tap out on you, so you make your way to the restroom before it does.
Through the kitchen, down the hall, on the left. You’ve been to Seokjin’s place often enough that your feet take the right path without much thought, your mind blessedly not settling on anything in particular as you do your business and wash your hands. Reentering the hallway has you blinking away the lingering imprint of florescent lights as your eyes adjust to the shadows. You jump a little when one of them moves unexpectedly.
“Sorry.” It’s Taehyung. You can see him a bit better now, can see the tall shape of him, the broadness of his shoulders, the muddled pattern of his sweater when he moves a little closer to you. Can make out the line of his jaw, the set of his gaze.
“No problem,” you say, stepping to the side a bit so you both have room to pass each other. You move to leave, but right as your arms brush, he speaks again.
“It’s really not like that,” he murmurs.
You pause. Don’t turn, just stare at the carpet and focus on keeping your feelings in. On not reacting. Because he would tell you, right? He promised he would tell you.
He promised—but he has been keeping this from you.
“…Okay,” you say carefully, still not looking up. He said it isn’t serious. If it isn’t serious, it’s truly none of your business. It doesn’t matter. You swallow. You don’t look up.
There is a long pause, the charged silence cut by the cheerful music coming from the other room. Taehyung still hasn’t moved. Presumably, he’s in this hallway with you because he needed to pee, but he doesn’t continue towards the bathroom, his feet solidly planted in the carpet. In your peripheral vision, you can see him turn towards you, see his mouth open and close a few times. You don’t need to see anymore.
You leave him there, one quick step in front of the other, and head back to the others.
Yoongi looks up at you when you reenter, but you simply shoot him a quick smile and return to your seat next to Jimin and Nia. She’s still perched on his lap, but at some point since you left, Jimin has decided to slip his hands into the gloves attached to her chest. You shake your head, mind still too preoccupied with what just happened in the hallway to properly call him out on it.
The music changes, a sultry man crooning about how he wants to be your Santa Claus, and Namjoon’s head whips around. “Is that Keith Sweat?” he asks incredulously.
“Damn right, it is,” Jungkook grins, visibly pleased with himself.
Joon and Yoongi pull matching baffled faces at each other, Yoongi muttering about how he hadn’t realized Keith Sweat had even released a Christmas album.
Hoseok has only had a little eggnog, but his face is red anyway as he leans against the back of your chair. “Hey, is it time for gifts yet?”
The mentioning of tonight’s main event has Seokjin perking up. “It can be. We just have to wait for—oh never mind, there he is. Taehyung, it’s time for gifts!”
Tae smiles in response, reclaiming his spot on the couch next to Jungkook. His gaze drifts in your direction, but you look away before you can lock eyes.
Jimin, who is closest to the gift table, promptly displaces his girlfriend and gets up to start handing out assigned gifts. They’re all of varying sizes—while Taehyung’s is a mere envelope, Yoongi’s is large enough to fit a small appliance. Vaguely, you wonder if someone was being funny with the packaging (boxes in boxes), or if he was actually gifted a deep fryer.
One by one, you each unwrap your gifts, excitedly revealing who was whose secret santa. Hoseok gets you, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that he remembered the exact brand of specialty chocolates you’ve been dying to try. Jin and Yoongi get each other, and to the delight of everyone in the room, it turns out they gifted each other matching tackle boxes.
“I only bought it because I noticed you looking at it,” Yoongi sighs, pouting at how everyone’s laughing.
Seokjin lets out a huff. “Yah! I was only looking at it because I saw you looking at it!”
But for all their grumbling, from what you can tell, they’re both happy with their gifts, and will likely get a lot of use out of them together.
“What’s that?” you hear Jungkook ask curiously, and when you turn in his direction, he’s leaning over Tae, trying to make sense of the piece of paper he’d pulled out of a generic Christmas card. You swallow.
Taehyung’s eyebrows are furrowed, his lips twitching into a confused smile as he holds the paper up for the room to see. It’s a printout of an advertisement from a nearby art gallery.
“Tickets to Kim Jungwoo’s newest exhibition,” you clarify, clearing your throat when your voice comes out more stunted than you would like. “Just let me know when you want to go and I can get them for you.”
“Oh, come onnnn,” Jungkook complains with a pout. “We had a thirty dollar limit.”
“Maybe next time you shouldn’t buy your gift from the convenience store,” Jimin says, pointedly looking down at the box full of ramen he was gifted.
“Do you or do you not like spicy chicken.”
“…I do.”
“That’s what I thought. Merry Christmas.”
“Don’t worry—my cousin works at that gallery,” you explain, “so I was able to get a discount. I know you like that artist, so when I saw their new exhibition was coming near us, I just figured maybe you would like it…”
You meet Taehyung’s eyes, and they’re so dark and expressive that you have the intense urge to look away immediately. But then he smiles, wide and bright, and now you can’t stop looking. “Holy shit, I didn’t even realize he was coming here—how did you even know I love his work?”
You tamp down a pleased smile, shrug good-naturedly. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
“Thank you,” he says, and you can hear how much he means it. Can see it in the excitement in his eyes, in the soft way he’s looking at you. It warms you from the inside out, satisfaction and affection trickling through your veins and spreading slowly, slowly. But steadily.
“Of course,” you reply, and you’re smiling too. You can’t help it.
And then the moment is broken by the first verse of what is apparently a My Neck, My Back x Jingle Bells mashup blasting through the speakers. You all pause, disbelieving of what you’re hearing, and then Nia immediately starts cackling, almost falling out of her chair at the ridiculousness of the situation. Yoongi rubs his temples like a migraine is coming on.
“Really, Jungkook?” Seokjin groans loudly.
Jungkook starts cackling too. “Feliz Navidad, mis amigos!”
The night ends earlier than you all would like—usually, there would be at least a few more hours of chilling and drinking and shenanigans. But alas, you have a flight to catch tomorrow and you’re not the only one, so you’re all begrudgingly shuffling into the night air a little before midnight. You all thank Seokjin for his hospitality and hug each other goodbye, promising to see each other again around New Year’s, before going your separate ways.
As per usual when leaving Seokjin’s, Jimin and Taehyung walk with you—you all live in the same direction, so you have to take the same train. Nia is tipsy, her laugh loud and her arm around Jimin’s midsection. Jimin eats up the attention, an arm slung over her shoulders bringing her body flush against his.
They’re cute, you think for the umpteenth time that night, watching them from behind, their silhouettes periodically illuminated by the street lamps you pass.
The sidewalks are narrow, so Taehyung quietly walks next to you, hands in the pockets of his coat. The silence between you is strange—it’s awkward, but it’s not. It’s loaded with something, but it means nothing at all. In any case, you feel no inclination to break it, so you don’t, distractedly pulling your hat further down your head in an effort to ward off the windchill.
The train is bizarrely full at this time at night, likely the result of more and more people being out and about, getting their shopping done and enjoying the holiday season. The four of you have to stand, though this doesn’t bother you much, as you don’t have that many stops to wait. Besides, passengers tend to get off with Jimin anyway—by the time it’s your stop, you often have most of the train car to yourself.
It doesn’t take long to arrive at Jimin’s stop, and he and Nia both hug you goodbye and wish you a safe trip before leaving you and Tae alone. As you expected, the car has cleared up a bit—enough for a seat near you to become available, at least. Taehyung gestures, and you wordlessly take it, him grasping the bar above your head.
Another two stops, and the older man sitting next to you gets off. Taehyung easily slots himself into the vacated seat. He’s tall, with rather broad shoulders and long limbs, and you’ve always known this, but there’s a difference between knowing and feeling him as he folds into the compact space. His shoulder rests flush against yours; his knee bumps yours a bit every time the train takes a sharp turn on the rails.
A couple more stops and he’ll get off before you. A couple more stops, and you’ll be able to breathe and keep pretending.
You stare outside the window, simply to have somewhere to look. But despite the picturesque view of the city rushing by, you can’t help but focus on something else.
Taehyung, meeting your eyes in the reflection.
Carefully, you turn back in his direction, and yes, he’s looking right back, eyes dark in the fluorescent lighting.
“Do you want to come over?” he murmurs, deep voice somehow deeper in his effort to keep his voice down. The offer makes the slumbering beast within you stir. Your breath quickens. Your lips part.
“I have to catch a flight in the morning.” Not an acceptance, not a refusal. Simply the truth.
“I can take you to the airport.”
You already know what you want to say. Already know, even as you bite your tongue and try to think about this logically. You’re already all packed, suitcase ready and waiting next to your front door for you to simply grab it and leave. You hate packing and tend to leave it until the last second, but you also knew you were unlikely to want to do so when you came home late at night, or even the next morning, so you made sure to get it all done before you left for Seokjin’s earlier today. Taehyung will have to take you back to your place to pick it up, but it’s kind of hard to point this fact out when you suddenly notice his hand on your knee, the warmth slowly permeating your jeans and making it hard for you to think.
“…Okay,” you breathe.
“Great,” he says, fingers light, light as they tease a little further up your leg, but ultimately return to dormancy before they can start anything in public. “What time’s your flight?”
You bite your lip. “Ten.”
He hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t move his hand.
You don’t move it either.
The first time it happened, it was completely by accident.
It had been a long, stressful week at work, and after noticing your unusual silence in the groupchat, a simple check-in text from Taehyung turned into you bitching about your grueling ordeal—which easily turned into him sounding the alarm and calling an emergency meetup.
Some of your friends had other plans, and you were quick to dismiss Tae’s deceptively frantic tone before anyone got too worried, insisting they not cancel anything for you. So it was Tae, Hoseok, and Namjoon who met you at a bar that night, one specialty cocktail easily turning into three as your best friends made sure your glass was always full. And then, since you were all in such a good mood, you kept the night going to another bar, where more alcohol and a live band had you dancing away any problems you could have had.
Hoseok finally decided he was ready to go home at 3am, and the rest of the group conceded. Which was for the best, really, because you were all stupid drunk and every bar in the city was going to close in an hour or so anyway. So you said goodbye for the night, stumbling towards your respective homes.
You and Tae briefly discussed the possibility of sharing an Uber, but neither of you really wanted to pay surge prices when you lived relatively close by. So to the train you went, your arm comfortably linked through his—partially because you couldn’t walk in a straight line, and partially because you tended to get rather…touchy the more intoxicated you got. Taehyung didn’t seem to mind, happy to let you use him for balance. Alcohol made his laughs loud and his face flushed, both particularly noticeable in the relative quiet of the night.
But no matter how drunk, Taehyung never lost his sense of chivalry. He walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street so you wouldn’t stumble into it (despite tripping into a couple parked cars himself), and when the two of you made it onto the nearly empty train car, he then insisted that you just come home with him, because his place was closer and he didn’t want you riding the last few stops by yourself so late at night.
You didn’t fight him, because crashing at his place wasn’t foreign to you, and now that there was no loud music keeping your attention, you were practically falling asleep where you sat. So to his apartment the two of you went.
Things become spotty after that. You remember being forced back to consciousness by your screaming bladder, and when you opened your eyes, still pretty drunk and trying to get a sense of your surroundings, you realized that you were on Tae’s bed, splayed on top of the covers like you had faceplanted onto them and not moved an inch since. You remember the confusion quickly turning into fascination when you looked over and saw Taehyung was laying next to you, knocked out.
This was new. Any other time, you would have had a minor argument over who would sleep on the couch (because you felt bad kicking him out of his own bed in his own home and he flat out insisted you take said bed). But your plastered selves had apparently been too tired for that, because this time, you both had passed out side by side.
You stumbled to the bathroom to relieve yourself, groaning at how the lights disturbed your retinas. When you came back, properly sliding under the covers this time, you saw that Taehyung had turned in his sleep, now facing you. And there, fueled by lingering whiskey sours, emboldened by the darkness, you did what you never allowed yourself to do otherwise—stare.
All of your friends are annoyingly good-looking, but there has always been something about Taehyung that has drawn your eyes. He is nothing short of beautiful, and that night you freely drank it up, entranced by his profile—illuminated by the scant light filtering through his blinds. Dark curls mussed on a pillowcase. Long eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones. Lips, plush with a prominent cupid’s bow, puckered almost in invitation.
And naturally, drunk you accepted said invitation.
You leaned forward, easily shrinking the small gap between you, and curiously pressed your lips into the fullness of his, freezing in shock when they responded with equal pressure.
Pulling back confirmed that yes, Taehyung was awake, eyes dark and hazy as they looked back at you. For a few solid moments, you stared at each other, silent and unmoving. But it was him who broke the stillness next, face shifting closer and closer until your noses bumped. Until you shared one breath. Until your lips were parting so his tongue could slip inside.
Everything else is foggy, your memory stunted by drowsiness and alcohol, but your body still remembers. Still remembers the ghost of his mouth. Still remembers your heart pounding excitedly in your ears, still remembers the warm weight of him rolling on top of you. What your mind does remember, however, is waking up the next morning, head feeling like it was going to split in two, mouth feeling like cotton, and quickly realizing Taehyung had apparently fallen asleep with his hand down your pants.
Things were different without the moon as your accomplice. The sun wasn’t nearly as forgiving, and after carefully retracting all body parts to their respective owners, you both awkwardly shuffled around each other in the kitchen, you pouring water into glasses and Tae silently handing you the bottle of ibuprofen after taking a couple for himself.
You drained your whole glass before either of you bothered to speak. It was Tae who broke first.
“Um…”
“What if we just agree this never happened?” you offered, voice so croaky you had to clear your throat to continue. “I don’t even remember anyway.”
Taehyung paused, glass hovering near his mouth. “You don’t remember?”
You blinked, wondering if you should fess up to your partial lie. “Do you?”
The glass got set down, his eyes closing as he rubbed his temples with a hand. “Not really.”
Good. Great. This was a thing that had happened on accident and you both could move past it. “See? We both just had too much to drink. It doesn’t have to mean anything if we don’t let it. No one even has to know!”
“…Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he agreed with a final nod.
And that had been that.
Until the second time.
The second time happened a few weeks later, also by accident. But then again, if you thought about it, the second time was much more intentional than the first. That time, you were all at Jimin’s, because it was his turn to host your group’s monthly movie night. And Jimin never hosted movie night without homemade guacamole and bottomless margaritas. So while you weren’t blitzed like the last time, you were still pleasantly drunk. Enough to not immediately look away when you caught Taehyung staring at you when everyone else was too focused on the tv screen. Enough to slowly simmer under his persistent gaze throughout the night, to cross and recross your legs at the blatant desire in his expression.
It’s about a fifteen walk from Jimin’s place to Tae’s, but that night, Taehyung casually got on the train with you instead. When the doors opened on his stop, he made no move to get off.
“This is you,” you said, fully aware that he was aware.
“It is,” he hummed agreeably. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Should I get off?”
You bit your lip. You shook your head.
Silently, you both watched his stop come and go, and then when it was time for yours, you exited the train.
Alcohol had lowered your inhibitions, yes, but that second time? It couldn’t be used as an excuse the second time. You had been haunted by the ghost of his lips ever since you decided to abandon them weeks ago, and now, now, you were both fully aware of every choice you made. Fully aware when you slowly peeled off your clothes, shy yet eager. Fully aware when he cupped you over your underwear. When he slid your panties down your legs so he could feel you properly, so his long fingers could fuck stars behind your eyelids. Fully aware of the velvety weight of him, the slick, sticky glide as he rutted into your hand.
Of sound mind when making these decisions, but rapidly losing it the longer he whispered in your ear, the longer he sucked color into your skin. “Taehyung,” you groaned into his collarbone. “Condom.”
And so it was different. And it was good. So fucking good that you could hardly believe this wasn’t some sort of sex dream your unconscious mind had cooked up. Taehyung was big and you felt him deep in your guts and halfway up your throat as he fucked you. He made you moan, made you whine, made you beg, and that only seemed to egg him on as he pounded you into the mattress with enough force to make your teeth rattle and your eyes roll back into your head.
And when it was over, it was clear that there was no going back. No excuses to be made. You had both wanted it and had acted on what you wanted, and that was that.
The next morning found you both in the kitchen again, a charged silence in the air as you went about making beverages for the conversation that absolutely had to be had. Coffee for you. Apple cinnamon tea for Taehyung.
“So,” you hedged, sliding him a mug.
His smile was small and shy. “So.”
“We should probably talk about this.”
“Do you want to forget this too?”
“I…can’t,” you admitted, face heating in embarrassment. You didn’t know why you were embarrassed. The ache between your legs proved it was a little too late for that now.
Taehyung’s gaze turned to his mug, bobbing his teabag in the hot water again and again as he thought. “I couldn’t forget last time.”
That pulled a laugh from you. “I noticed,” you said, affection dripping from every word, and you wanted to suck the slip back in, to snatch it back before it reached his ears. But Taehyung just smiled bigger into his mug.
You sat across from him. “This is going to keep happening, isn’t it?”
He was quiet for a few moments, contemplating your question. Or maybe his answer. He looked back up, solidly holding your gaze. “If you want it to.”
You weren’t prepared for that response. If you wanted it to? What kind of question was if you wanted it to? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
“Did you like it?” he prompted when your silence stretched a bit too long.
“I mean…” You officially dreaded running into your next door neighbors in the halls and you had no doubt a few noise complaints were coming your way, so that should have been obvious. “Yeah.”
“Me too,” he said easily, and there it was. The bright, boxy smile you had a hard time saying no to. “I like making you feel good. So why not?”
Your heart skipped at that flippant admission. There were a lot of reasons why not, but he made it sound so simple. So easy. You both liked doing it, so why not?
Still, it seemed too good to be true, and you bit your lip warily. “No strings attached? Nonexclusive?”
His head tilted a little at your proposal, and you rushed to explain it. “This is just for fun, right? So let’s keep it fun and uncomplicated. I don’t want to hold you up or anything, so how about we can have other partners, so long as we always use protection.”
“…That sounds fair to me,” he replied after a moment.
You held up a finger. “But if we find someone we want to start seeing seriously, we should stop. Because that would make things messy and be unfair to everyone involved.”
He nodded in agreement. “And whether there’s someone else or not, if you ever want to stop for any reason at all, just tell me.”
There was a fat chance that would happen, but you appreciated his careful consideration nonetheless. “And do you mind if we just keep this between us?”
Taehyung’s eyebrows pinched for a second before you saw his face smooth out. “Sure. Any reason why?”
“I just think other people could complicate things,” you admitted. “And you know how nosy our friends are. They won’t let us just be, you know? They’ll make it into something it’s not.”
“Just between us, then.” He offered his hand, and despite you being the main one who thought things through, you found yourself shy to take it. You shook on it, and that was that.
And so, a standing arrangement was made, with rules in place to help keep it just as simple as it sounded. No strings attached— nonexclusive, and either of you can stop it at any time. It was easy—whenever either of you was feeling particularly frisky, you would go to him (or him to you) and he would thoroughly pipe you down until that itch was scratched.
Simple.
But, of course, nothing is ever truly simple. Because there was one giant reason why you didn’t want anyone to know about your tryst. The glaring problem you’ve been ignoring since the start is that no matter how much Tae helps you scratch, you are never going to stop itching.
Because you may or may not be harboring a fat crush on your friend.
And Yoongi knows.
That night you got wasted on scotch and drank him under the table? Apparently, scotch makes you talkative, and Yoongi has always been a good listener. He casually brought it up when the two of you had grabbed coffee the next morning and you wanted to walk into traffic, you were so embarrassed by your own loose lips. But Yoongi is a great friend in that he promised he would never repeat your secrets. He is also a great friend in that he would never let you go along with this friends with benefits situation knowing what he knows, and knowing that it can’t possibly end well for you.
You know that too, of course. You’re fully aware of how bad an idea this is. How his eventual rejection will shatter you, how it will ruin the dynamics of your entire friend group. And still, you went forward with it. Because before you could stop it, your small crush on one of your best friends bloomed into something much more than that. And so these little nights where you ached for dick? You didn’t just want any dick. You wanted Taehyung’s. Only Taehyung’s. Only Taehyung.
You know that the moment Yoongi finds out, he’ll try to talk some sense into you—because he’s a good friend, and, unlike you, he wants what’s best for you.
And hypothetical Yoongi is right. This is a stupid idea, absolutely moronic to put yourself in this kind of of situation. But you are always stupid when it comes to Taehyung. Greedy. You want all of him, all his belly laughs and dark looks and enthusiastic karaoke performances and soft touches and introspective mornings. You want that—want any and all scraps he’s willing to give you, and at this point in time, you find enough strength in this blatant weakness that you keep giving yourself to him.
Or, at least, you had.
Before tonight.
Tonight, Taehyung pushes you against his apartment door, his urge to touch you outweighing his urge to hustle you both inside. His hands travel the curve of your ass, fingers digging into the meat of you in a way that can only be interpreted as mine. And you let him.
It’s not like that, he had told you, and as much as it hurts, it also ignites a fire within you. Because he promised to tell you if anyone else serious came along. Any serious prospects for either of you? This would all would end. You would stop.
He promised, but he hasn’t claimed her. And, because of that, you can still have him—can bask in him as long as he keeps asking. As long he allows you.
Greedy, greedy. Stupid, stupid.
“Hobi-hyung was right,” he murmurs against your mouth. He’s much taller than you, so he has to bend down a good amount to meet you, though this has never seemed to bother him. “Should have checked the right nipple. I was hoping you would.”
It takes you a moment to figure out what he’s talking about, too distracted by the way his knee purposely slips between your legs. His sweater. The evasive Waldo.
“I’m much more interested in your pants,” you breathe, fingers tugging on the waistband to prove your point.
“Hmmm?” He smirks, and you tingle all the way to your toes. “Why? What do you think I’m hiding in there?”
You cup him, revel in the hiss that escapes his lips at the small pressure. “Taehyung. Open the door.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice, quickly rooting in the pockets of said pants for his keys and shifting you out of the way so he can properly access the lock. But after that, he barely gives you room to breathe, lips reuniting with yours. Hands sliding your coat to the ground and circling your waist, pulling you flush against him. Making sure you can feel the hard evidence of his want for you. Eager. Without separating from you, he kicks the door shut behind him, slips his shoes off, and starts walking you backwards.
You would tease him about his enthusiasm, but you’re no better. You thrive in it. Every step closer to his bed, every teasing brush of his thumbs beneath the hem of your sweater fills you with barely-suppressed glee. The little whimper he lets out when you work off his pants? Relief.
It’s you who sinks to your knees, who scrapes your teeth over the hairs trailing his belly button, down, down. It’s you who purposefully presses your tongue into his weeping slit. You whose insides glow, bright as the sun, at the way his groans are barely able to be choked out. Because it’s your mouth he’s fucking into, not Jisoo’s. Not anyone else’s. It’s you who he belongs to, even if only for these fleeting moments.
Taehyung pulls you off of him before you can really get a rhythm going, before you decide to start fondling his balls in a way you know from experience will end him. Because, from the way he’s fisting your hair, tugging from the scalp with the exact amount of force that you love, he’s not ready to be done with you.
He undresses you with practiced hands, taking care to suck blooming color into all stretches of skin he uncovers. Open-mouthed kisses at the junction of your neck and collarbone. A light nip of your right breast, tongue immediately following and laving over the irritated area. When he finally decides to slip a hand between your thighs to get you ready for him, he can’t help but shudder when he realizes you already are. Two fingers easily sink into your hot cunt, a third making a gasp escape you.
“Look at you,” he mutters as he strokes you, and his tone borders enough on reverent that your whole body prickles in ecstasy. “Make me so fucking crazy.” A thumb swirls around your clit with intent and he recaptures your lips, inhaling your gasps as he beckons, beckons, and your thighs shake.
It’s too much—it’s not enough, and you’re going dizzy with want for him. Your hands scrabble up his back, pulling him completely on top of you, his warm weight more than welcome. Your chests are flush, and still, it is not enough.
Taehyung somehow understands you—has always managed to understand you. Understands the root of your growing frustration. With one last lingering kiss, he pulls away just enough to reach over and open the drawer of the nightstand next to you.
You feel protest building beneath your skin but you suppress it. Because previous encounters have taught you that you’re getting what you want. And sure enough, he roots out a condom, wasting no time in ripping open the foil and rolling the rubber down his length.
No matter how often he’s had you, the first press of his cock has always been intense—he is long and thick and yours, yours. Taehyung covers you with his body and fills in all your empty spaces until you are finally whole. Until you’re both slick with sweat and his hair sticks to his forehead, a notably primal noise rumbling in his chest. Until you’re so out of your mind that your teeth lock into his shoulder and you quiver uncontrollably.
It’s only during these moments that you allow yourself the luxury of pretending. Only during these moments that you allow your mind to linger in the fantasy that this is more than it is.
After, Taehyung always pulls you against him, and you always silently barter with the sun for a little more time. Wordlessly beg the moon to stay, please stay, just a little bit longer.
You always fall asleep in his arms, his steady heartbeat lulling you into unconsciousness, and that’s that.
There’s nothing in particular that wakes you the next morning. It could be the sound of movement in the next room, but it could also be the growing sunlight filtering through the blinds, or your brain nudging you because your subconscious knows you have somewhere to be. In any case, you blink slowly and unseeingly at the closet door, languidly stretching your legs one by one beneath the sheets.
Until it suddenly clicks in the recesses of your mind that the reason you’re squinting is because the sun is well and fully out. And you have somewhere you should be.
You leap out of bed, frazzled and adrenaline pumping as you ruffle through your discarded jeans for your phone. You forgot to set your alarm and it’s 11:15. Fuck.
“Taehyung!” you yell, slapping on one of his t-shirts you find haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s just big enough to cover all your important bits, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you storm into the hallway in search of your friend.
You find him in the kitchen. He turns at the sound of your voice, hair adorably mussed by his pillow and your hands. “Hey,” he greets you, deep voice somehow always even deeper in the morning. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, and you swallow hard at the sight, forcing yourself to focus.
“I missed my flight!” you screech. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Tae bites his lip. “So funny story,” he says in a way that lets you know that the oncoming story will be anything but. “You know that huge snowstorm that’s set to hit at the end of the week?”
“…Yes?” you reply suspiciously. You’ve been keeping an eye on it, worried that it might interfere with your travel plans. But your local weatherman’s assurance that you would already be home and eating your grandma’s macaroni and cheese by the time the storm hit you calmed you.
“Well,” he continues, a nervous chuckle putting you on edge. “It hit last night. Surprise!”
You blink, unamused by his obvious joke. “What.”
“Twenty-two inches,” he continues. “Your flight has definitely been canceled. I doubt we can even get out of this building right now, to be honest. Who knows when my landlord’s gonna start shoveling.”
What?
WHAT?!
“Taehyung. Now is not the time to play with me,” you warn. Even as you’re unlocking your phone to factcheck him yourself.
“I’m not,” he promises, holding up his hands, pacifying. “Flights are canceled and you looked tired, so figured I’d just let you sleep.”
But his explanation falls on deaf ears when the internet confirms everything he’s saying. Jaw dropping in disbelief, you rush towards the window over the sink, separating the blinds with a finger.
All you see is white.
“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself in wonder, astonished to not even be able to see any of the cars you know for a fact are parked along the street. Hell, you can’t even see the street. Everything is just buried under too much snow.
“There’s nothing we can do,” he says, a hand catching your elbow. He leads you to the table. “Come on, sit down. I’ll make you some coffee.”
“Thanks,” you say, dazedly doing what he asks as your mind goes a mile a minute. Worried your mother will still wait at the airport for a plane that will never arrive, you quickly give her a call.
“I figured,” she says. “I saw that a storm hit your area on the news, and when I looked it up, your plane had been canceled.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Girl, don’t be! I haven’t even gotten dressed yet.” You can hear Christmas music playing in the background, and you can imagine her, still in her pajamas, in the kitchen getting started on the dishes she was assigned to bring to your grandmother’s tomorrow. Now that your plans of going home are a little more up in the air, it makes you a little homesick. “Are you safe? Still have power and enough food?”
“Yes.” Your eyes dart to Taehyung, who is busy pulling what he needs from the cabinets near the sink. You swallow. “I’m safe. I’m going to look today to see if I can get another flight, but Mom, I think I’m gonna miss Christmas.”
Your mother has always been rather perceptive of your emotions, and you know this time is no different when, after a pause, she replies, “Don’t be sad, baby. It’s beyond your control and everything happens for a reason. We’ll just celebrate whenever you make it home.”
“I’m going to try to get another flight,” you repeat, and she just chuckles. “I’ll let you know.”
After promising to pass along the bad news to the rest of your family, your mother hangs up with a love you. You sigh, definitely a little forlorn.
Taehyung shoots you a sympathetic look over his shoulder. “This will make you feel better,” he promises as he continues his quest. He doesn’t drink coffee, but he still always has a box of your favorite kind on hand and that’s what he gets brewing for you. “We’re honestly lucky we still have power,” he muses, pulling creamer out of the fridge as he waits for the Keurig to finish brewing your cup. “It’s cold as shit outside.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, still internally frazzled. This new development has thrown you completely for a loop.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks, musing over fridge inventory. “I have half a pizza, eggs, kimchi, and that spray cheese in a can.”
You grimace. “Why in the hell do you have spray cheese?”
“Because it’s lowkey fire at 2am and it’s good food to have in case of an apocalypse,” he replies, tone much too reasonable for someone who kept cans of spray cheese in their fridge. He gestures towards the window. “And would you look at that? Snowpocalypse. Aren’t you glad we have this spray cheese?”
You pretend to think, though you can’t help the chuckles that escape you at his ridiculous reasoning. “No, not really.”
It’s him who laughs this time, pouring creamer into the awaiting coffee mug and returning it to the refrigerator door. He stirs in two sweetener packets then casually hands the mug to you.
“Thanks. Okay, but seriously! How the hell are meteorologists so wrong all the time?” You take a sip, humming in approval when you find the coffee to be exactly how you like it. “I mean, I was too busy to check the weather yesterday, but I’ve been paying attention for the past few days and they always said the storm would hit later. How could they not have seen this coming?”
“It’s pretty embarrassing,” he agrees, moving to pull out his own mug. You see him pause in realization when his hand wraps around his newest favorite, the light bulb visibly turning on in his head. “Wait…is this how you knew?”
The mug’s gorgeous—covered in vibrant colors painted in distinct, yet abstract patterns. The signature on the side declares it to be a print of one of Kim Jungwoo’s newest works.
You shrug, a small smile on your face. “I always see you drinking out of it so I just figured…”
“God, you’re amazing,” he says with a sigh, and you have to work very hard to control the elation building in your chest. To remind yourself not to take his words too seriously.
“I’m glad you think so.” You clear your throat. “Because looks like you’re stuck with me for a little bit.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Tae huffs out a laugh, sitting in the chair across from yours.
You lift a brow. “Isn’t this fucking up your holiday plans too?”
He shrugs. “I was gonna drive back, but who knows when the roads will be clear and safe. In the meantime, this’ll be fun! We’ve got internet, tv, food—though actually? Should we start rationing? Who knows how long we’ll be stranded.”
“You’re asking whether we should start rationing your cheese in a can,” you deadpan.
“You know what? Since you clearly think you’re too good for it, no cheese for you.”
“I think I’ll live.” You see him hide his smile behind his mug, and you tamp down yours, too. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure I saw some pancake mix in your cabinet the other day. How about I make us some and you can spray your little cheese on it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he replies, so straight-faced that for a horrifying moment, you have to contemplate whether he’s kidding or not. But Tae has always had a rather sarcastic brand of humor, so you just pray that this is a prime example of that.
It’s only when you stand up and feel the resulting breeze on your ass that you remember that, aside from the extra-large t-shirt you’re wearing, you’re entirely naked. Heat rises to your face when you see Tae’s gaze immediately flick down to the long stretch of your legs. It’s strange that you’re bashful at his obvious attention—it’s not like he hasn’t seen and touched everything under that shirt before; not like he’s not the source of the hickeys littering your skin.
Still, it feels oddly intimate to hold his attention in such a manner now. To have him look for no other reason than to admire you.
“Let me put clothes on first,” you mutter, intensely aware of the way his eyes follow you out.
Ultimately, today becomes one of the most relaxing Christmas Eves that you’ve ever had. After you shower and throw your clothes from the night before back on, the two of you have breakfast and then settle onto the living room couch for a wondrously lazy day of watching cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies and scrolling your social media. You attempt to find a new flight home for tomorrow, but flights are already full and you’re not surprised—everyone else is also fighting tooth and nail to rebook their flight. In any case, with the way snow is still being cleared all over the city, you’re not too sure it will be safe for planes to fly tomorrow, anyway. You’ll just have to stay on top of it and try again later.
For a little while, your groupchat is active with conversation on everyone’s clear annoyance at travel plans being disrupted. But eventually, your friends all quiet and it’s just you and Taehyung again, eating leftover pizza and laughing at the wonderfully bad plots.
Before you realize it, it’s time for the two of you to call it a night, and it’s strange how easily you slot into place—like there’s a place for you to slot into. Strange how you wordlessly take the right side of the bed and him the left.
You almost offered to take the couch, but realized how ridiculous that was when Tae started to head to his bedroom and looked over his shoulder to make sure you were coming. You’ve shared the same bed as Taehyung before, obviously, but have never done so without also sharing your body. For that reason, it’s strange to watch him wash his face and brush his teeth, strange to see him don a rather pricey-looking pajama set, strange to slide in next to him under the sheets.
It’s all so blatantly domestic that your heart hurts. That you want to lick a path across his collarbone to reestablish boundaries, to ground yourself in what this really is.
That you want to close your eyes, want to bask in this simple feeling of belonging by his side for as long as you’re allowed.
You turn off the lamp next to you. You both shuffle in the darkness, getting comfortable.
“Goodnight,” Taehyung whispers, voice a lot closer than you thought it would be.
You turn over to face him. Give yourself one second to pretend, one second to look at the shadowed shape of him in the dark. You close your eyes.
“Goodnight.”
You wake up the next morning with arms wrapped around you, lips resting in the crook of your neck. This doesn’t surprise you—Taehyung has always been a cuddler. Still, he’s never cuddled up to you without sex being involved, so you are a bit caught off guard.
He must just like to sleep like this, you tell yourself. You won’t lie and say you don’t enjoy it too—it’s nice and warm in your little blanket cocoon, the weight of his body near you, on you strangely comforting. You’re awake but you don’t get up, content to stay in this quiet, safe limbo.
Eventually, Taehyung stirs. So do you, jolted out of your trance and slipping away from him before he has the chance to see any expression on your face that it’s far too early to mask.
You use the restroom and brush your teeth with the toothbrush that has been designated as yours. (One morning after, you had complained of morning breath; the next time you slept over, it was already waiting for you in a drawer.) Your eyes idly roam your reflection as you press the bristles against your teeth in practiced small circles. Your hair, previously thrown into a quick bun, has been tousled in sleep, and you’re wearing Tae’s t-shirt again because you didn’t have anything else to sleep in.
You spit into the sink and crack open the door. “Taehyung.”
It takes long enough for you to rinse your mouth of foam for him to respond. “Hmm?”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
“You can borrow some of mine,” he replies, and his voice is gruff and muffled, like his face is still pressed into a pillow. It probably still is.
But despite what you anticipate when you reenter his bedroom, Taehyung is already out of bed and rooting around in his dresser. He reflexively glances at you when you appear in the doorway, eyes squinting in protest against the sunlight streaming through the window. His face is still puffy with sleep and his hair is even more disheveled than yours, sticking up in all directions. You’re extremely endeared.
“Thank you,” you say gratefully when he hands you another t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Your hand rises before you think about it, fingers raking against his scalp as you smooth his rebellious hair back into place.
Taehyung freezes, suddenly looking a lot more awake. He stares at you, and it’s only after a few moments of this that you realize exactly what you’re doing.
You snatch your hand back, awkwardly clearing your throat. “Um. Merry Christmas.”
A small smile creeps onto his face. “Merry Christmas, _____.”
Flustered, you gather the clothes close to your chest and return to the bathroom to change.
You’re in the living room, sipping on your coffee and waiting for the news to come back from commercial, when your phone vibrates.
Taehyung
Text message (now)
Your brows furrow in confusion. Taehyung is currently in the kitchen, having decided that it’s his turn to scrounge up some breakfast for the two of you since you cooked yesterday. Why is he texting you when you can hear him just fine from here?
Perplexed, you unlock the screen.
[10:15] Taehyung how do you like your eggs?
[10:15] Taehyung Fried or fertilized
You bite your lip, swallowing the laugh building in your chest. Because you certainly don’t want to encourage his ridiculousness.
“Stop trying to sext me,” you say loudly from your spot on the sofa. “I don’t need this right now.”
“Oh come on, _____. It’s a serious question,” you hear him call back. ”Don’t be like that!”
“Taehyung, I’m trying to see how long we’re gonna be trapped here. Can you be serious?”
He pops his head through the doorway, a clear pout on his face. “I am serious.”
You struggle not to break, pretending to be too engrossed in the updated weather report to notice the way he makes his way over to you. You definitely should be engrossed in the weather report—it’s the reason you’re watching the news in the first place—but you can’t help but have your focus stray elsewhere when Tae slowly drops one knee. The other.
Your heart rate speeds up, but you pretend to be unaffected. Pretend that you haven’t long-abandoned the local news, that you’re not hyper-aware of him and everything he’s doing. He’s blocking your view of the tv, so you pointedly lean to the side to see around him, lips pursed in an attempt to tamp down your amusement.
A few moments of nothing, of you both pretending you’re not hyper-aware of each other’s proximity.
Then, he makes his move.
His hands start on your knees, large and warm and shooting rippling sparks across your body. Still, you focus on not reacting. The weatherman is finally on tv, gesturing to the green screen map, but though he’s talking, you hear none of it, much too interested in the circles Taehyung’s thumbs are rubbing into the fabric of your sweatpants. (His sweatpants, big enough that you had to roll them over twice at the waist in order make them fit.) You’re able to keep up your apathetic charade until his hands inch higher, start rubbing further inward.
Your eyes snap to his. There’s an amused smirk touching his lips, but his eyes—you’ve seen that look in them before. It makes you reflexively swallow. “Really, Tae? I’m watching tv.”
“You don’t even have to do anything,” he wheedles, fingers hooking into your waistband. “Just pretend like I’m not even here.”
You give him a look, but don’t stop him when he starts to pull them down. Simply lift your hips a little to help him slip them off.
You didn’t have any clean underwear, so when the pants are tossed uncaringly to the ground, there is nothing to hide you from Taehyung’s feasting eyes. And feast he does, gently pushing your legs apart and immediately zeroing in on your naked sex, a distracted tongue swiping across his lips.
You hadn’t bothered to put a bra on this morning and now you regret it, your nipples proudly and visibly straining the material of your t-shirt and betraying your excitement. Though you suppose it doesn’t matter when he trails lazy, open-mouthed kisses up one of your legs, hands grabbing you by the ass and scooting you forward and closer to his mouth. His unhurried tongue playfully dragging through the crease where your thigh ends and your pussy begins.
“Taehyung,” you breathe, though you don’t really have anything to say. Tae seems to understand this, simply replying with a rather sweet kiss on your inner thigh before turning his head and going for the prize. You can’t help but let out a sigh at the contact, the familiar feeling of his mouth on you so warm and wet and good.
He takes his time, licking a wide stripe up your lips and idly circling your clit and making your indifferent facade immediately and abruptly drop. It is much too hard to keep it up when he’s eating you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, like you’re something he wants to savor. And in any case, your body quickly betrays you, twitching after every bold flick of his tongue. Not to mention that the longer he keeps going, the wider your legs part for him. The more your back starts to slide down the couch, pushing further into his face.
Taehyung hums in approval, simply slinging your legs over his shoulders so he can get as close as possible. A moan escapes your lips before you can swallow it, a hand rooting itself in his dark curls. Wordlessly saying what you don’t. Don’t stop, oh, god, please don’t stop.
And at that point, something seems to snap in him. While before you were something to savor, now, Taehyung devours you, flat out going to town. Wet slurping quickly overtakes the sound of tv, only rivaled by your increasingly erratic breathing and the moans you can no longer keep at bay.
Your hips reflexively try to rise, but he keeps a firm hand on your thigh to hold you in place while he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, looking you in the eye the entire time. You whine, rapidly coming undone, and he only responds by reaching up to roughly twist one of your nipples while he tongue-fucks you. That only makes you louder, only makes you sound more desperate. Only makes your eyes roll back in your head.
There’s no stopping it now—you’re past the point of no return, past all sense. You have tunnel-vision, mouth slack, every atom in your being screaming to be pushed off that final euphoric cliff, and that’s all you can think about. All you can focus on. You ride his face, hips grinding down hard and fingers tightening in his hair, holding him to you.
But Taehyung clearly has no intention of going anywhere, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure every few seconds, little satisfied whimpers escaping him every time you tug a bit too hard. And when your thighs finally trap his head between them, the intense orgasm making your back bow, he moans right along with you, greedily lapping up the fruits of his efforts.
As is usually the case, you have to push him away from you. Taehyung has always been utterly at home between your thighs, has always been honored to receive every drop you’re willing gift him. He would be there all day if you let him, but you’re too winded and sensitive for that right now, so he reluctantly pulls back.
Looking at him now, it almost looks like he was the one that was fucked out, not you. His hair is a mess again, eyes completely blown as they look at you. And, most telling, there’s a visible sheen on his face from his nose all the way down his chin that he pays no attention to, more focused on licking the remnants of you from his swollen lips.
You struggle to form words, the powerful orgasm he had coaxed from you rendering you drowsy and boneless. “W-wha…why—”
“’Tis the season!” he replies simply with a boxy grin. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
You stare at him, baffled, but Taehyung only pats you on the knee before standing up.
“Okay, but seriously, how do you like your eggs? Because the only other thing I know how to make is cereal, but I don’t have any milk, so if that’s what you want, you’ll have to eat it dry.”
Your feel like that one confused lady meme, brain shuffling through any and all mathematical equations that could help you solve the question he asked you. His cock is blatantly hard now and he’s not trying to hide it, but he also seems uninterested in doing anything about it. “…scrambled is fine.”
With an enthusiastic thumbs up, he leaves you there, puffy and slick, thighs still twitching.
You eat your eggs together on the couch, Taehyung shoveling his into his mouth like he didn’t just get done trying to suck your soul out through your pussy. The rest of your Christmas is spent bundled up under a shared blanket, sipping on hot cocoa and watching all the claymation Christmas movies that come on tv.
For the past two days, the streets have been a mess and trains unavailable. But when you wake up this morning, peeling yourself away from the unfamiliar scratch of Tae’s emerging stubble, everything seems to be back to normal. You can hear cars honking outside, can hear the scrape of shovels against concrete as people try to remove the last remanants of the storm.
A glance at the unread messages in your groupchat only confirms your suspicions. Your friends have all successfully secured methods of leaving the city and are in various stages of heading back home. But you? You’re quickly reminded of how annoying it is when supply doesn’t meet demand. With everyone and their mother fighting to rebook their abruptly cancelled plans, the earliest available ticket that is also in your budget won’t even have you flying out until right before New Year’s. And seeing as you have to work on the 2nd, there is absolutely no point in spending the money only to come right back.
Disappointed, you sit at the kitchen table and you give your mom a call to deliver the news. She completely understands, of course, not wanting you to spend more money either.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you don’t care if I come at all,” you tease, eyes flicking to the doorway at sudden movement. It’s Taehyung, wearing a pair of glasses and still in his pajamas. When he sees you’re on the phone, he gives you a silent wave, mouth stretching wide into a yawn as he dutifully searches for your mugs.
“Now, you know that’s not true,” your mother laughs. “You’re my baby and I miss you. I’m sorry you had to spend Christmas all alone.”
Your heart pings at that sentiment, but your gaze can’t help but drift towards Tae, who has his back to you. He’s making you coffee, as has now apparently become your routine.
It’s bizarre that the word routine can even be used at all in relation to the two of you, at all—bizarre and mildly alarming. He makes you coffee and you bicker over what to watch on tv and you’re little spoon and you have an unspoken side of the bed. Just three days locked in an apartment together and things have become…comfortable.
You swallow, looking away. There is another word for this that you don’t dare utter, that you don’t dare to linger on. Because you don’t want to start seeing things where there are none.
You don’t want to convince yourself that this is something more than it is.
“Christmas alone wasn’t that bad,” you say. Tae’s hand, reaching for a spoon, pauses for just a second before his fingers wrap around it. You clear your throat. “Mostly just watched tv. But how about I try to come home sometime in the spring? Maybe for your birthday?”
Your mother is excited about this plan, just as you thought she would be. The two of you hang up just as Taehyung sets your mug in front of you.
“Thanks. Those are new,” you say, pointing to his glasses. He’s worn glasses before, of course, but they’ve always been more of a fashion statement. This pair is wire-rimmed and markedly dorky. They’re endearing and you love them.
He rubs the back his neck, embarrassed. “I ran out of contacts.”
“Don’t worry. I think they’re cute,” you grin, reaching over to give them a cheeky tap. “But lucky for you, it looks like we’re finally free to blow this joint—all snow has been cleared.”
“Really?” You’re not sure why he sounds so surprised. He had to have known that the snow wouldn’t last forever.
“Yup. So you won’t have to deal with me for much longer. I can get out of your hair.”
He takes a sip from his mug as he ponders that. “Where are you going to go?”
You puff out a laugh at the question. “Um, home? You know, my apartment?”
“Alone?”
“Well, I’m the only one who lives there, so I would imagine so.” Your brows furrow in confusion. “Tae, what’s up with you?”
“It’s just…I’ve been thinking.” His fingers absentmindedly tap on the table as he mulls over his words. “You’re gonna be alone during the holidays. I’m gonna be alone during the holidays. So why don’t we just be alone together?”
You blink, brain slow to grasp his words. “You mean we should keep meeting up?”
“We could.” He shifts in his seat. “Or, we could just cut out all the in-between and you can just keep staying here.”
Well, you definitely didn’t see that coming. Your face must betray your surprise, because Taehyung is quick to try again. “Or we could stay at your place! Just a suggestion! I just figured it would be easier.”
You’re stunned silent, and it takes a few moments to find your voice. “You’re not sick of me yet?” you ask, bewildered.
“I could never get sick of you, _____,” he says, kind of shy, and it makes your chest warm, warm.
Remember what this is, you remind yourself, inwardly shaking off any delusional thoughts before they can take root. “…This is because you’re horny and you want easy access, isn’t it.”
But Taehyung scoffs, an irritated pinch to his brow. “I mean, I also just enjoy hanging out with you, but if you don’t want to, I get it.”
“No! No, I want to, Tae. I’m just surprised.” He meets your gaze then, expression softening a little. “I just have to go pick up some stuff from my apartment.”
“And I should stop at the grocery store so that we have other things to eat than apocalypse cheese,” he muses aloud.
The two of you end up going together. First stop is your apartment, where you take a shower and throw on the first clean clothes that have actually belonged to you in days. Taehyung waits for you, casually scrolling his phone as you go about packing a bag.
This is weird. Nowhere near normal and Tae is acting like it is, like you pack bags all the time with the express purpose of staying with him, in his place, in his bed. You feel like some sort of invisible line is being toed, but maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re just hypersensitive because you’re afraid you’ll get too comfortable with this new arrangement and open your big mouth and just flat out ruin everything.
So with that in mind, you say nothing as you toss in twice as much underwear than you could possibly need (can never be too careful) and a couple pairs of pants. You slip on your much needed winter boots and then you’re off to get groceries.
The two of you chat as you peruse the aisles, Tae dutifully pushing the cart while you contemplate what items you’ll need for dinner tonight. You chat while you carry the bags the few blocks to Tae’s apartment. You chat while you start a new tv series together, while you prepare dinner together and while you eat it together. And on the surface, everything is nice and easy, like it always is when it comes to Tae. You’re alone and so is he, so you should be together. One plus one equals two.
But Taehyung’s wide smile makes the forbidden thing in you build and build, grow and grow.
You smile back, and you say nothing.
“You know what we should do today?” Taehyung asks. He’s just hopped out of the shower and his hair is wet, loose waves dripping dark spots into the material of his t-shirt.
You look up from your bowl of cereal, but you don’t stop chewing. You watch a bead of water trail down his neck and have to hold yourself back from leaning over to lick it up. “What?”
“We should go see that exhibit.”
It takes a second for your brain, always sluggish in the morning, to catch on to what he’s saying. “You mean your Christmas gift?”
“Yeah.” He’s excited, eyes practically disappearing with the force of his wide and boxy smile. Like a child on Christmas morning. “Let’s go!”
“Tae, you don’t have to go with me, you know,” you point out. “It’s your gift. You can use those tickets on whoever you want.”
He snorts, like what you said was ridiculous. “And I want to use them on you. And since it’s my gift, you can’t say no.”
This time, it’s you who smiles. “Can’t argue with that.”
So after a change of clothes, it’s to the industrial building serving as an art gallery you go. A quick call to your cousin ensures that tickets are waiting for you at the front desk, and Taehyung’s smile doesn’t leave the whole way there.
There are a good amount of people already in the allotted space when you enter, only confirming to you that this is most definitely an exhibit you should be seeing while you can. While you can certainly appreciate it, you’re not really into art like Taehyung is. Kim Jungwoo’s work, however, catches your attention immediately. You realize after setting eyes on the first piece that Jungwoo’s art is truly something that should be experienced firsthand—it doesn’t take long to see that the print on the mug Taehyung uses every day doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Everything skews a bit abstract, but the coloring of each piece, the length of each and every brushstroke, somehow makes you feel.
You weren’t expecting this reaction, so you take your time scanning each each piece, simply marinating in whatever emotions come. Tae does the same, so, naturally, your paths diverge and reconnect as you go along, a dance of push and pull.
It’s only when you cross him again at one of the last pieces that the two of you have your first real conversation.
“These are gorgeous,” you offer, touching his arm to get his attention. Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the introspective quiet of the room.
“Mmm.” Taehyung looks down at you, then back to the painting. His brow pinches a little as he mulls over it, full of curling shades of gray. You think him so deep in thought that it almost startles you when he speaks again. “I really like this one. Were there any in particular that spoke to you?”
It only takes you a second to respond. “That one,” you say, pointing to one of the first paintings. Wordlessly, he makes his way back to it, and you follow, trying to put into words why you like it so much. “I don’t know, it just feels very layered? Like, the title is Contentment. But the colors chosen feel the complete opposite—there is a lot of red and black, and those are really bold, you know? Colors we usually associate with powerful things. Intense, uncontrollable. And so it makes me feel like he’s lying, either to us, his intended audience, or to himself. How can he be content when there’s clearly something brewing beneath the surface? Consuming him from the inside out?”
He nods slowly as you speak, considering your interpretation of the canvas. “You’re right,” he says finally. “It does feel like there’s a lot being unsaid.” A few moments pass, where you both simply look at painting, quiet. Then, he turns back to you, expression unreadable. “Thank you. For being here with me.”
Your breath catches in your throat at the unnamed intensity in his gaze. You aren’t sure what to say. “Of course,” you say reflexively. And that is enough.
After a few more minutes of browsing, the two of you decide to leave. The piece Tae had been entranced by is close to the exit, and you give it another casual glance as you walk by.
Longing, the placard says. You turn away.
The sun is deceivingly bright outside—when looking out the window, it appears to be a beautiful winter day. But as soon as you exit the building, you’re assaulted by the rather frigid air, passersby huddling beneath their coats and walking briskly to keep warm.
Taehyung shuffles further into his winter coat as well, breath puffing out in visible bursts. He looks ridiculously handsome against the snowy city backdrop, a natural model for a men’s cologne ad. His long coat is fashionable and heavy, but from the way he’s stuffing his hands in his pockets, apparently not heavy enough.
“Fuck it’s cold,” he says, and you feel that sentiment in your bones. Literally.
“You’re the one who wanted to go outside,” you remind him, teeth chattering as the two of you hustle the few blocks to the restaurant you’ve chosen for lunch. Your hood is up, but you regret not bringing a hat too. “I was perfectly content to keep marathoning The Good Place.”
He laughs, an arm casually sliding over your shoulder and pulling you into his side so you can share body heat. And this is better. A little bit.
“Don’t be like that,” Taehyung chastises. “It’s Christmas.”
“Taehyung, it is not Christmas.”
“Christmas is a feeling, _____.”
“It’s also a date on the calendar. That has now passed.”
Taehyung tuts, opening the restaurant door for you. The warmth from inside spills out, and you both sigh in relief, rubbing your hands together as the hostess leads you to your table by the window. Luckily, said window appears to be insulated well, because you feel no breeze when you start to peel off your layers. “If it’s not Christmas,” Taehyung continues cheekily, head tilting towards the window. “How do you explain that?”
Amused, you follow his line of sight across the street, where a man in a lot is standing next to a big sign that says Christmas Trees.
“Oh my god, are they seriously still selling Christmas trees?” you snort incredulously, attention moving back to your menu. “Who the hell is still buying them? And honestly, with how rough those trees look, that guy should be paying you to take one.”
“We should get one.”
You laugh, trying to decide what kind of soup you want to come with your sandwich. But Tae’s laugh doesn’t follow, and, wary of his silence, you glance back up. There is a suspicious glint in his eyes, a quirk of his lips that you don’t trust. “…Wait a minute,” you say. “Are you serious?”
“Maybe.”
“Taehyung, why do you want to purchase a raggedy-ass Christmas tree?”
“They’re not that raggedy, and because Christmas was stolen from us this year.”
“They’re raggedy. You and I both know they’re raggedy.”
“_____,” he says tone more serious than you’re anticipating for such a silly conversation. “You were really looking forward to the holidays. And I know it’s obviously not the same, but there’s no reason we can’t celebrate now.”
That throws you for a loop. Yes, you’ve been pretty content over these past few days, but you have also been a little bummed that the snowstorm snatched your holiday plans away from you. You hadn’t realized Tae has been watching you that closely, and it makes your chest warm to know he has.
“…Okay, fine,” you say, hiding your growing smile behind your menu. “We can go get your tree.”
Taehyung hoots in victory and you shush him, though you don’t really mean it.
After you eat lunch and pay, you dutifully bundle back up and follow him to the Christmas tree lot across the street, where the guy selling them is thrilled to see potential customers. He tells you that all trees are 75% off, which doesn’t surprise you, seeing as the holiday has already passed and the demand for his product has gone way down. Still, looking at his inventory, you personally think even that amount is too much.
You can’t help but voice your concerns. “Taehyung, Charlie Brown’s tree looked better than any of these.” The vendor shoots you a dirty look, but you don’t care. These trees are busted. Clearly, the winter storm had not been kind to them.
“Doesn’t matter,” Tae says cheerfully, walking slowly so he can inspect each one. “We can fill it in with a lot of clearance ornaments.”
“Wow, you’re really going all out, huh?” you tease.
He scoffs, turning his head to throw you a pointed look. “Obviously. It’s Christmas.”
“It’s not Christmas.”
“We have already discussed this! It is Chris—”
You’re not quite sure what happens. One second he is playfully arguing with you, the next he disappears from view, swept entirely off his feet. You startle at the flurry of movement, bewildered when you realize that he’s now on the ground, limbs askew. “Oh my god, Tae! Are you okay?”
Taehyung winces, speckled with wayward snow. “Ow! I think I broke it,” he groans as you scramble to help him up.
“Broke what?” you ask as he stands, giving him a panicked scan for injury.
He answers by rubbing his behind, no doubt bruised. “Kiss it better?”
You roll your eyes, unamused, but happy he’s not actually hurt. “I’m not kissing your ass,” you snort, reaching over to brush the snow off it anyway. “And to be honest, you can kiss mine for even asking me to.”
He nods. “Later,” he says, and it sounds suspiciously like a promise. The way he’s grinning does not bode well for you.
For the sake of time, you both agree that Tae will choose the tree and you will choose the ornaments, so you leave him to quickly pop into a nearby store to grab a bunch of ornaments and string lights from the sale bin. When you return, you find that the tree Taehyung has chosen is as tall as he is, but spindly, and, frankly, pretty sad.
“He tacked on even more of a discount,” Tae informs you cheerfully. “I think he’s worried I’ll sue him.”
“You should,” you mutter under your breath. “For having the audacity to sell you that tree.” You frown, mentally trying to figure out the logistics. “Taehyung, should we go get your car?”
“Nah. I can just carry it.”
Your eyebrows raise. “We can’t get on the train with this. You’re really gonna carry it for six blocks?”
He lifts it, testing its weight. “It’s not that far,” he decides. “And my pride is at stake.”
“What pride?” you reply incredulously. “You literally just busted your ass five minutes ago!”
“That’s exactly why it’s at stake,” he insists, and the branches of the tree are so sparse, you can see him pouting through them. “And you know the only reason I fell is that they didn’t salt the ground and it’s slippery.”
You have bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Whatever you say, mountain man. Go ahead and carry your tree.”
“I will,” he snarks back.
And so he does. For six blocks, you trail behind him as he lugs around a forty-pound evergreen that is very visibly on its last leg. You would argue that Tae is on his last leg too, with the way he huffs and puffs and repeatedly tries to rearrange it in his arms so the needles aren’t sticking him in the face.
“Need help?” you offer, amused.
His response is quick and irritated. “No.”
You roll your eyes. Men. If he wants to struggle to simply to prove a point, that’s on him. You were just gonna carry your ornament bag and make sure he didn’t get hit by any cars.
Finally, finally, the two of you make it to Tae’s apartment building. Into the small elevator you go, Tae resting some of the weight of the tree against a wall. Surprisingly, you almost make it all the way home without inconveniencing anyone else, but the elevator doors end up opening halfway up. (You get a weird look from the person on the other side, who wisely chooses to just catch the next one.) And by the time Taehyung is dumping the tree on his living room floor, he’s thoroughly winded.
“See?” he gasps out. “Easy.”
You can’t help the snort that escapes you this time. “Oh Tae~,” you tease, batting your eyelashes. “You’re so big and strong.”
He’s leaning over, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Damn straight.”
The two of you get to work decorating your sad tree, and it’s nice. Really nice, especially when he pours you glasses of wine to sip while you work, Nat King Cole crooning in the background. Slowly but surely, the tree starts to come together, and while it may not be the most stunning to most people, it is to you.
It is to you.
It’s when you’re completely done, the two of you sipping on your third-ish glasses of wine while admiring your hard work, that Taehyung pulls out his next bout of holiday cheer.
You frown at the random leaves he’s holding over your head, confused. “…Is that cilantro?”
“Does this look like cilantro to you?” he asks, and he sounds kind of hesitant for some reason. Shy.
“Obviously it does, or I wouldn’t have asked.” You smile, willing to go along with his antics, just like you always are. “Are we having tacos for dinner? I don’t think you have any tortillas.”
“No, you dummy,” he replies, huffing out a laugh. “This is clearly mistletoe and we are clearly standing under it.”
Oh. Oh. You swallow, flustered by this new development. “We’re actually sitting right now, so who’s truly the dummy here?”
“Are you really going to argue with me? Standing, sitting, it’s all covered under mistletoe law.”
“Mistletoe law,” you deadpan.
“_____. It’s Christmas. You can’t ignore a Christmas tradition on Christmas.”
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Kim. It’s not Christmas.”
He gestures to the Christmas tree the two of you have just finished putting up. “We’ve already agreed that today is Christmas, so it is. Do you really wanna anger the mistletoe gods?”
You laugh, endeared by his persistence. “No,” you agree softly. “Can’t have that.”
Even though he finally has your cooperation, Taehyung hesitates before he leans in, dark eyes reflecting the Christmas lights like he has stars in them, has the whole universe.
And to you, he does.
He’s kissed you before, of course. Many, many times. But never without sex being the ultimate destination, and the press of his lips against yours now, with no other motive than to bask in you, rapidly throws you into a tailspin. It’s soft and strangely a bit timid and you can taste the wine on his breath, but you don’t care in the slightest because right now, the man with stars in his eyes is focused on you. You, you, you.
There’s a feeling crawling up your throat, one you aren’t sure what to do with. It simmers and simmers, even after Tae pulls away from you, face flushed. Panicked, you lean back in, desperately licking his mouth open. He’s noticeably surprised, but follows your lead easily, like he always does. Kissing you back with just as much fervor. Grunting when you swing a leg over his lap, when your hand finds its way in his pants.
And you’re grateful. Grateful, because one more second of him looking at you like that and you’re going to cry. Going to flat out explode, and who knows if the resulting fragments of you will be salvageable. But it’s okay. Because when you’re doing this, when you’re busy riding his cock until he fucks you blind and it’s hard to breathe, it’s easy to forget.
But there’s only so long pressure can build. Only so long it can be trapped, can be pushed down and ignored. It doesn’t take long for you to learn this the hard way.
The next day, you’re lounging around the apartment, today being declared lazy after all the excitement of the day before. You’re on the one of the last episodes of The Good Place and Tae made you pause it while he’s in the kitchen, fetching you both more snacks.
And it is at this unassuming point in time that everything goes to shit.
An insistent buzzing has you reflexively searching your surroundings for the source, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize it’s Tae’s phone.
“Taehyung,” you yell, not bothering to move a muscle from your cozy blanket cocoon. Tae may have willingly left it seconds before, but you saw zero reasons for you to do the same. “Your phone is ringing!”
You hear him opening and shutting a drawer. “Who is it?”
You sigh, mustering up the will and energy to lean over and scrabble around the coffee table. When your fingers wrap around the vibrating pest, you listlessly bring it closer to your face.
Jisoo
Incoming call
The blood in your veins instantly runs ice cold. You stare at the screen, the words flashing across it quickly losing meaning as the phone continues to ring. Woodenly, you stand, blanket falling from your form like the afterthought it is.
Taehyung looks over his shoulder when he hears you enter the kitchen, a smile lacing his lips in greeting. But that smile soon falls, eyebrows pinching in confusion at whatever he must see on your face. He reflexively takes the phone you hold out to him, but one glance at the screen has his eyes snapping back to yours. His lips part.
“I think I should go,” you say quietly. There’s a burning behind your eyes but you blink it back into submission and turn to go gather your things.
“Wait.” There’s an edge of urgency to the word, a sense of rising panic. But you pay it no mind, hurrying to the bedroom to get your bag.
You’ve been stupid to forget—blatantly foolish and willfully obtuse. You’re a placeholder, and no amount of playing house will ever change that. Absolutely no different than what Alexa is to Hoseok, simply someone there to entertain him and warm his bed. Though, you suppose, you are different than Alexa. At the very least, Hoseok claims her, for however long he decides to do so. At least she has that.
“Wait,” Taehyung says again, and you’re not listening, too busy throwing one of your errant shirts back into the bag. He grabs you by the arm and you stop, frozen. “Wait.”
“What are we doing, Taehyung?” you whisper.
“What do you mean?” He’s trying to catch your eye, trying to make you look at him. “Baby, I need you talk to me. What do you mean?”
“This.” You gesture wildly at nothing, at everything. Let out a shuddery breath. “This. What are we doing?”
“What we’ve always done,” he insists. His voice is getting louder, more distressed. “What’s the problem?”
Your head whips up, finally meeting his eye. “Stop pretending you’re dumb.” You’re tired, oh so tired. “Because we both know you’re not.”
That must be the wrong thing to say—the panic in his face steels out, his eyes daggers. “Why are you even upset?” he says cooly. “I don’t see how it matters.”
Flames lick up your throat. Flames that have been there for months. Flames that you’ve ignored, even as they slowly smothered you with smoke. “Maybe,” you say lowly. Carefully. The word rolling bitterly on your tongue. “I don’t want to be around when you’re fucking other people.”
And there it is. The truth that has been hovering between you all this time, practically a third party in your fucked up excuse of a relationship.
For a second, your truth renders Taehyung mute. His jaw drops slightly, head tilting in unspoken question. Gone is his carefully-neutral expression—in its place, blatant indignation reigns. “It’s never bothered you before.”
If only he knew. If only he knew how hard you’ve worked to turn a blind eye, to keep up your charade. You don’t want to hear any more. “This was a mistake,” you say quietly, and his face crumples. “This was all a mistake, and I think I should go before either of us says something that we’ll regret.”
Your attempt at diffusing the situation only seems to make him more mad. He’s shaking his head. No no no. “Don’t do that,” he growls. “Don’t play games with me, _____.”
“Don’t do what?” you snap. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know damn well I’m in love with you!” He’s shouting now, but his voice is starting to crack. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Stop it.” Someone’s breathing is audible, and through the blood pumping in your ears, you can’t discern whether it’s him or you. Probably both. “You need to stop playing dumb. There’s no way you don’t know!”
“What?” A broken record. You sound like a broken record, but you have no idea how to stop. No idea how else you can possibly respond.
“The only reason I even started seeing her is because you didn’t want me!” he yells.
Your brain whirrs, way too much information at once. “When did I ever say that?”
“You didn’t have to say it!” he spits, and now you’re crying. You don’t realize it, too caught up in the moment, but you definitely are, tears silently trekking down your face as you try to comprehend how in the hell you both got here. “You don’t have to say it, because you make it perfectly clear that this is all you want from me. And at first, I was more than happy to give it to you. But the more I have you, the more I want you. I want all of you, even if you’re only interested in certain pieces of me.” His breath is coming out too fast. He’s crying too. “I love you, and you insist that I hide it and pretend that I don’t!”
“But if you want to leave, then fine.” He’s much quieter now, subdued. He sniffs, angrily wipes a hand across his face. “It’s probably for the best.”
But now, leaving is the furthest thing from your mind. Your brain is finally caching up, finally processing everything that he’s just said.
“Say it again,” you finally reply, voice small. “I need to hear you say it again.”
“What?” he huffs. “That I want you?”
“No. How do you feel about me, Taehyung?” You’re moving closer to him, steps slow, slow, approaching not unlike you would a spooked animal. “I need to hear you say it again.”
His brows furrow. “I love you,” he repeats, the words full of irritation.
But that’s all you need to hear. The final shackle shattering, the last thing holding you back no more. Your hands find purchase in his shoulders, and though he eyes you warily, he doesn’t stop you when you rise on your toes and press your lips against his cheek.
“Again,” you murmur, hands drifting, fingers trailing into his hair. “Tell me again.”
His eyelashes flutter, distracted by the kiss you place on the underside of his jaw. “I love you.”
Unhurried, you adorn his skin with proof of your own devotion, kissing him every time he says it and even when he doesn’t. It’s only when he finally pulls back a little, a blatant question in his gaze, that you set free the words you’ve refused to utter.
“I love you too, you dummy.”
That’s the cue he’s been waiting forever and ever for, and unlike you, he only needs to hear it once. Taehyung gently takes your overnight bag from your hands and tosses it uncaringly to the side. Despite his tender actions, the way he’s looking at you tells a completely different story.
He looks at you like you’re a delectable meal and he’s starving. Like he’s one sudden move from devouring you whole.
And it sets everything in you alight.
His hands find your hips, then your ass, working the flesh as he kisses you, as he stumbles you towards his bed. And yours are just as frantic, utterly impatient in their quest to yank down his zipper and grip him through his underwear.
He lets you. Bucks into your hand until he’s nice and whiny and desperate. “Please,” he whimpers against your neck, whole body shuddering when you press a thumb into his slit. “Please let me inside you. Please let me feel you.”
“Shhh.” You shush him, catching his bottom lip in your teeth. You will never deny him, and he has to feel it. He has to know. “Always.”
But you can read between the lines, can understand exactly what he’s asking for.
Know what he wants, what you both want.
Taehyung topples you both onto the bed, engulfs you with his body so that even if you tried to look anywhere else, he’s the only thing you can see. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. As if you’ll disappear the next time he blinks, as if he can’t get enough. He grinds his cock down hard against you, swallowing your gasps and working you both up to such a degree that you almost cum, just like that. Less than a minute, but you’ve been teetering on the edge for months, a bow taut and primed to snap.
The first push of him bare has you keening, has you scratching red marks down his back. And he’s no better, entire body vibrating and just flat out babbling when he finally feels the warm grip of you without a barrier. “So wet, feel so fucking good. So fucking good for me, baby, always so good.”
“Holy shit,” you gasp, desperately rocking your hips against his. Mouth slack as experience has him expertly hitting that spot inside you again and again that makes you see stars. “Oh my god—“
“So good, and mine. Mine,” he groans, and you’re not sure who he’s even talking to. He probably isn’t either, the velvet heat of you pulling words from his tongue, but after a particularly delicious thrust has you letting out a whine, you see the fog leave his eyes, just a little. Focus now entirely on you. “Whose pussy is this?” he asks, tone deceptively mild. But the way he’s circling his hips is understandably distracting, and when he realizes you’re already too fucked out to answer properly, he grabs you by the chin and leans his forehead against yours. Demands you answer him. “Who does this belong to?”
“You,” you pant out. “You. Yours. Always yours.” And as familiar as this all is, as many times as you’ve done these exact things over the months, it all feels achingly different this time. Somehow much more intense, somehow much more worshipful.
Taehyung groans, his efforts doubling as his oncoming end has him starting to properly rail you deep into the mattress. Between his thumb pressing into your clit and his mouth laving attention across your neck, it doesn’t take long for you to be firmly pushed off the edge with a drawn-out moan, convulsing around him and easily dragging him with you.
And, with two particularly rough thrusts that make the headboard rattle against the wall, he paints your insides a hot white.
You lay beneath him for a while, still contentedly stuffed full of him. Still gleefully receiving the kisses he hasn’t stopped peppering you with.
“There’s been no one else, you know,” he murmurs against your fevered skin. “Just you. Only you.”
Emotion blooms within you, seeping from your ribcage and trickling everywhere else. “And only you,” you say softly, his resulting smile so blinding and affectionate that you’re filled to the brim with love. Just completely overflowing with it, fighting the sudden burning behind your eyes.
Tae doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Just presses his lips into the few tears that escape and holds you in the quiet.
Your fingers dance down the damp skin of his back, idle, as if memorizing every bump of his spine. But the peaceful moment is broken when a chance brush of against one of his asscheeks has him letting out a yelp, jolting at the unexpected sting.
You snort out a laugh, unbidden. There’s definitely going to be a bruise later.
“It’s not funny,” he insists, smiling despite himself. His smile only widens as you keep laughing, unable to stop once you started. “I warned you I broke it—hey! I’m suffering over here, it’s not funny!”
The voicemail sits, completely and utterly forgotten for a couple days.
To be honest, you both are a bit too busy with other…activities to pay it any mind.
“Hey Tae, It’s Jisoo. Um, I was hoping to catch you because I really didn’t want to do this over text or anything. But, um, while I’ve had a good time getting to know you, I think it might be best if we go our separate ways. If I’m being honest, I’m getting the sense that you’re not really interested in building anything between us anyway, and, frankly, I don’t want to waste any more of our time. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Happy New Year.”
“Run me my money,” Jungkook says calmly, and you blink, completely unprepared for that response.
You’re at Seokjin’s again, your group of friends gathered together to bring in the new year. For some reason, you had found yourself a little nervous for this moment, a little nervous to tell your friends about you and Tae. Well, nervous isn’t quite right—restless might be a better word. Excited and restless. You hadn’t been completely sure how they would react when you finally dropped the bomb, but now, as you watch the rest of your friends reluctantly but dutifully pull out their wallets, you know this definitely hadn’t been on your list of possibilities.
Your jaw drops at the audacity. “I know you motherfuckers did not just bet on me.”
“No, no,” Hoseok assures you, and you feel better for just a moment until he continues, “We bet on both of you.”
What? What?!
Your head whips towards Taehyung, but he’s busy popping a mini quiche into his mouth and looking more amused than anything else. As if he had fully expected some light New Year’s gambling regarding your relationship status to occur.
“We’ve all just been waiting for the two of you to crack,” Namjoon admits, sourly slapping a few bills into Jungkook’s hand. “But we thought it would happen next year.”
Yoongi grumbles under his breath, shaking his head at you. He glances at the clock and back, expression simply oozing disappointment. “You couldn’t have waited fifteen minutes?” he sighs.
“Excuse me?” you balk, blood pressure steadily rising.
Wisely, Taehyung steps in front of you before your dumb friends who you love very much can get you riled up enough to start throwing hands. He’s laughing, and it’s warm. It’s right. And when he leans down to kiss you before the ball drops and during and forever after, you don’t care one bit about the obnoxious clapping and hooting that results.
Hell, if you weren’t so preoccupied, you’d clap for your own damn self.
⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut
⟶ words: 11,528
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too
⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex
⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!
⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!
You swear you’re over Jungkook.
In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.
As it turns out, it hardly works.
Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.
You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.
And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.
“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.
It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.
You hear his voice first.
It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.
At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.
Now, you hate it.
It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.
“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.
“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”
“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”
“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”
“Yoongi, right?”
“Yeah━”
As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.
“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”
“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”
“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.
“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.
“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”
Suddenly, you feel sick.
It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.
“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.
You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.
You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.
The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?
“So, what are you trying to say?”
You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.
It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.
You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.
“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.
“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”
He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”
You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”
“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”
“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”
This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”
You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.
“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”
He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.
“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”
His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.
“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”
“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”
Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.
“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”
His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.
“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”
“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”
“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”
“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”
“That’s not true,” You admonished.
“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.
“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”
Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.
“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”
You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…
The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.
Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.
You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.
The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.
“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.
“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”
“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”
He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.
“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”
“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”
And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━
“Y/N?”
There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.
This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.
As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.
“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.
It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.
Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”
You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”
His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”
You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.
“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”
“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”
“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”
His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”
Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.
“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.
Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”
“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”
“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.
“Promise?”
You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”
His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”
“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.
“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”
You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?
So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.
The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.
But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.
Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.
You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.
You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.
“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”
The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”
Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.
Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”
“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”
Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”
But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?
Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.
But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.
As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”
“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”
He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.
“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”
You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”
It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”
You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”
A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.
“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”
When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.
“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”
“Jungkook…”
“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”
Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”
As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”
But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”
“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”
His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”
“You don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”
Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”
You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”
“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.
“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”
But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.
“Y/N…”
“Good luck out there.”
Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.
He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.
After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.
“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”
Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.
“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”
Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.
“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”
“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”
Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.
“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”
As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.
Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.
Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.
That night, you can’t sleep.
You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.
When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.
“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”
You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.
“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”
Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”
“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”
“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”
“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”
“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”
Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”
Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.
“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”
He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.
“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”
There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.
“Kiss me, Jungkook.”
And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.
Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”
It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”
His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”
“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.
Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.
“It’s been so long,” he sighs.
You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”
Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.
“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.
“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”
Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.
“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”
“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”
“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”
You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.
“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”
You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.
As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”
“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.
He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”
“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”
Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.
“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”
“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”
He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.
Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”
Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.
“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”
He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.
“Ooh, Jungkook━”
The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.
His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.
“That’s not fair,” you whine.
“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”
You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.
“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”
“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.
“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”
“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”
“Fuck, okay. Okay━”
He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.
“Oh, shit,” he grunts.
He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.
“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”
Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.
At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”
“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”
You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.
It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.
“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.
He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.
Then, the room falls silent.
Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.
“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.
It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."
“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.
“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”
“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”
“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”
You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.
“Do you really mean all that?”
“With my whole heart.”
And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.
You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.
While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.
warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, slight size kink, just some bangtan cock peaking out against your stomach as they fuck you
KIM SEOKJIN
Jin held your hips in a bruising grip, cock buried deep inside your heat as you arched into his body, pressing your bare chest against his own. His hungry eyes remained fixed to your belly, watching the outline of his dick appear against your skin with each desperate thrust of his length. His thumb gently traced the protruding bulge, cock throbbing against your walls while small, needy whimpers left your lips from the pressure he was applying to your stomach, causing you to tremble under his touch.
“Am I too big for you honey?”
MIN YOONGI
Yoongi raised his hips to meet the pace of your own, cock brushing past your dripping folds before filling you to the brim while you moaned greedily on top of him. His darkened eyes raked over your fucked out form, tracing over the slight bulge jutting out against your belly, a groan leaving his kiss-bruised mouth as he realised it was the contours of his dick pressed into you. He flattened his large palm onto the bump, gazing in satisfaction as you withered in his hold, clenching tightly around his cock while breathless begs left your parted lips.
“Fuck that’s hot.”
JUNG HOSEOK
Hoseok groaned against your mouth once his length slipped into your oozing cunt, burying every inch of his aching cock inside your pussy. He left hot open-mouthed kisses against your warm skin, savouring the sounds of your whimpers as his hands traced your figure, stilling when he felt a large protrusion on your stomach. He detached his lips from you, ignoring your needy whines once his eyes made contact with the bump that poked out against your skin. He felt himself harden inside of you at the sight of his thickness filling you up, eyes staying trained on your stomach as he continued to fuck up into you.
“You’re so tiny, taking me so well.”
KIM NAMJOON
Namjoon’s fingers gripped onto the skin of your thighs, his gaze not once leaving your clit as he watched his length brush past your pussy with each push of his hips. You whimpered into his neck, holding tightly onto him as he filled you up with his fat cock, arching into his chest once he throbbed deep inside you. Choked moans left your lips from the sudden sensation of his hand pressing down on your stomach, ensuring that you felt every inch and vein of his dick. His long fingers trailed over the bulge jutting out against you, stroking the skin as buried your face in his hair, sobbing while he continued to cruelly overstimulate your cunt.
“You like it when I fill you up like this huh?”
PARK JIMIN
Jimin teased your clit with his long digits while his cock stayed stilled inside your sensitive pussy, ignoring your pitiful begs with a certain smug glint in his dark eyes. He hovered above your breathless form, dark gaze roaming your nude figure before halting on your stomach, his arousal seeping out of his cock and into your womb once he noticed the bump that peeked out against your skin. His length throbbed deep inside you at the sight, thumb gently stroking your stomach before pressing down hard on the bugle, grinning cruelly as choked moans left your wet lips.
“You’re such a pretty doll for me.”
KIM TAEHYUNG
Taehyung fucked your tight hole hard and fast, roughly abusing your cunt with his thickness as you clenched around him, milking him dry. His sticky cum leaked out of your pussy, seeping down the skin of your thigh before he stilled inside of you, dark eyes trained solely on your belly. He breathed heavily against you, his large palm applying pressure against your stomach, hungrily staring as you withered against his touch. He groaned at the sight of your fucked out expression, hair fanned out beneath you and parted lips with the contours of his dick straining against you. He thought you never looked more beautiful.
“Tell me how it feels sweetheart, taking my big cock so well.”
JEON JUNGKOOK
Jungkook threw his head back against the pillows, choked groans leaving his lips as you continued to bounce on his needy cock. His hands held a tight grip on your hips, ceasing your movements and keeping you fully seated on his length, observing the dent that protruded against the skin of your stomach. You felt him pulsate against your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. His hips raised to meet your own, eyes trained on the indent of his cock each time he slipped into your wet cunt, your liquids trailing onto his thigh as he used your body.
“You’re so pretty baby, tell me how much you love my cock.”
ღ summary: In an effort to reach new heights in your career as a lawyer, you have to present your criminal ex-lover in court. This doesn't only bring up old memories, but also new feelings.
ღ warnings: a lot of switching between past and present, i do not know the law, degrading, dirty talk, nipple play, spit, mentions of theft, mentions of gang violence, cursing
ღ A/N: this was supposed to be my birthday present in 2020 for Phia @meowxyoong, I hope you can still enjoy it, although it's very late!
A big thank you to Beezy @hobeemin for beta-reading this for me!
part one | part two [coming soon] | masterlist
The room was empty; his voice almost echoed from the walls. There was only a table, two chairs, and a lamp. The mirror on the wall obviously hid the officers behind; let them watch the interrogation with narrowed eyes.
The two men stared into each other’s faces, lips unmoving, and the policeman huffed out through his clumpy nose. His skin was uncared for, pores wide and visible even without coming much too close. “You will not leave this room until you give me what I’m asking for.”
His voice was full of anger, and he wasn’t good at hiding the temper that steadily rose inside his chest. Instead of the clean poker face, he pulled his eyebrows down together; his skin turned red.
“I won’t tell you shit.”
His calm voice made a vein bulge on the police officer’s forehead. He clamped his hands down on the table’s edge; it looked like he’d throw it over in his rage. But the door slammed open.
It took both men’s full attention to the intruding light from the hallway of the police station and the long shadow that flew into the room. Long legs in an expensive costume, brown with cremé thin stripes met with a tucked-in white, silk shirt and a jacket matched to the pants. You looked as fierce and stunning as you knew you always did, and the faces in the room only proved this.
“And he has every right to do so. How dare you question my client without his lawyer present? This is illegal, Officer Chops.” Your voice dripped with anger, but your face didn’t show it. You looked casual, stance confident in the doorway, and your hands loosely crossed over your chest.
Chops visibly swallowed the dread down his throat, removed his hands from the table and stepped back. “Miss ‘I am the law’! How good of you to join, I was just about to notify you of your client robbing a store. Third time this week!”
Your client scoffed, rolled his eyes. His figure was slumped in the uncomfortable chair and his gaze turned away from your criticizing, burning look. “It was just an outlet, the jewels weren’t even that expensive,” he murmured.
“I’d like to have a moment in private with my client please,” you announced. Stern face, you turned towards the mirror and clarified, “under four eyes, no audience. Unless you want me to inform the police commissioner that the officers in this station interrogate suspects without a lawyer present?”
The policeman excused himself and assured you everyone else would leave too. The door closed on his way out and immediately, you turned back to your client.
“Min Yoongi,” you said. “What are you up to that you have to distract the local police department so much with simple shoplifting this week?”
He seemed to have not expected you to see through his actions this quickly. Whipping his head around, he stared at you and scoffed. “You’re supposed to get me out of shit, not get into my shit. Keep your pretty little head busy with your paragraphs ‘n stuff.”
You stepped between him and the table, leaned back on the edge of it to look down at Yoongi’s lazy eyes. “To get you out of shit, I’d need to know what you’re doing.”
Yoongi sat up a little, looked your frame over before he grinned. He lifted his hand to slide your button off; your jacket moved back from your stomach slightly. “It’s none of your concern. You already know I wouldn’t be getting caught stealing jewelry this easily. Not three times a week.” He murmured while he moved to tuck your shirt out of your pants, but you smacked his fingers off.
Yoongi laughed with pauses, his shoulders shaking, and he looked up through his lashes. “This is a part of something bigger, but don’t get it twisted. I won’t get caught doing that either.”
His voice was low, almost a purr, and he pulled your jacket towards him to make you stand up from the table’s edge. “Now just get me out of here, Miss ‘I am the law’.”
Pulling down the corners of your mouth, you only scolded, “don’t call me that.” You pulled your jacket from his grip to close the button again and walked towards the door. “God, I wish Seokjin would’ve never put me on your case.”
four months ago
The morning was awful; the alarm on your phone went off late, you got stuck in a traffic jam, and your coffee was horrible. You stormed into the law office with the worst grimace you’ve ever pulled and tossed the coffee into the bin.
“Someone brought the sunshine in, I see,” the mocking tone of your boss appeared from behind you. You turned around to see Seokjin lean in the doorway, hands hidden in the pockets of his fitted suit pants. “Who pissed in your cereal, hm?”
You rolled your eyes, huffed, and turned back around to the coffee machine in the small kitchen. The hope for a better coffee this morning was high, and if it turned out horrible, you would consider flying to Pluto to reside there.
“Leave it. I’m not in the mood. I had a shitty morning, and your sarcasm certainly does not help.” Some might say the way you were speaking to your superior was disrespectful, but the dynamic between you two was always like this.
“See, I was hoping I would actually lighten the mood. Got a big case for you.” With a glance at him, you saw his hitched eyebrow. The idea of a big case did intrigue you, but the coffee was your priority as of right now.
“Just come to my office when you got that first coffee in.”
You waved him off and gave the coffee machine your full attention. It should be steaming and filling your cup at this point but it just didn’t want to cooperate. With a huff, you put your mug back into the tall cabinet.
“Somebody fix that damn machine!” You shouted through the office. Steam was practically coming out of your ears as you stormed away.
After you started collecting your files and preparing your workspace for the rest of the day, you decided to finally speak to Seokjin. You were pretty curious about that big case he mentioned and happy that he was willing to give you a new opportunity to prove your skills.
You knocked and after he signaled you to enter, you opened the door to his office with a big grin. “So,” you let the word hang in the air as you took a seat in front of his desk. “Wanna tell me about that case you got?”
Seokjin’s grin was equally as wide as yours, but he carried a hint of evil with it.
As soon as he dropped the name of the client, your happy expression fell. “Absolutely not.” You sounded final, standing up to leave the room.
But Seokjin knew he had power over you in this situation. He carried the confidence in him when he pushed himself up with his hands on his heavy wood table.
“If you win this case, you could earn the title of the best lawyer in South Korea.” His voice sounded stern when he cut himself off. “Scratch that, you will earn the title of the best lawyer of the entirety of Asia. That’s how big this case is.”
“Seokjin, I don’t know if you’ve suddenly fallen ill, maybe with amnesia. But I will certainly die before I work with that prick.” Once again certain that the conversation was over, you turned around and already gripped the door handle.
“He’s part of the biggest crime organization in the eastern hemisphere! I trust you to be capable of defending him, getting him a ‘not guilty’ in the courtroom. Do you not realize how big of an opportunity this is?”
You huffed, faced Seokjin’s shocked expression and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Exactly,” you nodded. “He’s part of the biggest crime organization in the eastern hemisphere. This is why I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore!” You couldn’t believe that Seokjin had no empathy for your situation. Was he really expecting you to defend a clearly guilty man? He was insane, thinking you would ever agree to this.
A knock on the door behind you stopped your boss from responding, and right when you stepped away from the door, a head full of hair popped in.
“I’m sorry to disturb your conversation, but,” the apprentice cleared his throat and stepped in fully. “Miss Y/N, I made you coffee. The machine is intact; you didn’t fill up the water before you wanted to make a cup of coffee.” He seemed ashamed of your incapableness, rubbed his ear, and looked down to his feet.
“Ah,” you concluded. “Well, thank you, Jungkook. That’s very,” you paused. “Very nice of you.” It was his job, really. But you didn’t want to come off rude after he just outed your failure at making a simple brew.
“I can’t help but be curious, pardon me. Who is this important client that everyone seems to know about?” Jungkook was red in the face; it seemed to have taken his whole strength to ask this question. As the youngest in the office, often he wouldn’t be included in information, and asking for it could seem disrespectful or like he was snooping around.
Instead of regarding him with an answer, you swirled around to Seokjin. “Everyone already knows about this?” You asked with obvious shock in your voice and expression.
“I expected you to pounce on this case, which is why I took the liberty of telling a few coworkers about your future success. I apologize.” He said with a straight face. Then, looking at Jungkook, he carried a light smile on his full lips. “You’re not at all in a place to apologize. The whole office talks about it, why not tell you? Y/N, willing to tell the apprentice who you will defend from now on?”
Seokjin had you in a vice-like grip with this. Starting a discussion with him in front of Jungkook would throw you into a bad light, and you didn’t want to be a bad influence on an apprentice. Your boss got what he wanted and now you would have to accept the case. Besides, your ego was way too big to let anyone else take over the possibly biggest case in the history of this office. That includes, bigger than the case that got you in the position of calling yourself one of the top five best lawyers in the country.
He was right, you were the only one besides Seokjin himself to be competent enough to get the client out with the verdict ‘not guilty’.
With a deep sigh, you faced Jungkook again, who watched you with big eyes until you dropped, quite literally, the bomb. “Min Yoongi. He’s the client. I’ll have to defend Min Yoongi.”
Present day
You sat in your office until late, worrying over the case. Defending Min Yoongi wasn’t ever going to be easy; most people knew that he was guilty. Proving to anyone that a member of a gang, well known for his criminal record, wasn’t guilty in any case was impossible for most.
Except for you, you figured. Just last week one of his first trials began, and you started out strong, giving the judge and the jury court the impression of an innocent man being inculpated without reason.
The courtroom was packed on the first day, opened for the public, including the media. With such a big case, most of Korea's citizens are interested in the verdict about the criminal Min Yoongi.
The pressure of your most competed with lawyer, Jung Soojin, was also very present with her eyes burning holes into the back of your head. After court was closed for the day, she took the liberty of waiting for you.
“It’s improbable that you’d be able to keep Mr. Min out of prison,” she taunted. “You’re not good enough of a lawyer. Better give the case to someone capable of representing him.”
You sighed, wishing her a good day, and left the courtroom with your client in tow. In a calm tone, you advised him to stay inside until the next court day. You already knew that he wouldn’t follow the advice, but your hope would die last.
“Have a good night's rest, darling,” Yoongi murmured when you exited the building. “And if you need some assistance with that, you have my number.”
He winked, loosening his tie before he turned around to walk the other way you were going. The implication didn’t go unnoticed but was knowingly ignored, keeping your head busy for the whole evening you spent alone in the office. Working out the next few Court days was going to take the best of you.
three years ago
The apartment was dark, cars honked outside and a few drunk people yelled across the streets in front of the apartment complex. The only thing you could hear was the headboard thumping against the wall with every other thrust of Yoongi’s cock deep into you. Both your moans and heavy breaths blended together.
“Yoongi,” you gasped. He smacked your ass, leaned forwards to bite your shoulder. “Ah, Yoongi, please.” You were quiet, looked into his eyes from your position on his lap.
You smoothed your hips forwards and relished in the slow drag of his cock against your walls. Yoongi held you down with his hands grasping your cheeks and he pressed his hips up. “Yeah, you like that? Sitting on my cock and getting yourself off like that, hm, slut?”
You moaned, surging in to kiss him messy and with no coordination. He lapped it up, pulled on your meaty behind, and let go to slap his hand back down. The momentum pushed you towards him, pressed you more on his pelvis.
“Feel so good in me, Yoongi. So big, wanna feel you cum inside,” you whined. When you tugged his hair, he bit your bottom lip hard and pushed your hands off, guiding you to hold them behind your back.
“Only good girls get my cum. Do you deserve it, whore? Do you think such a dirty fucking bitch deserves my cock?” He hissed it, suddenly lifted you up by your hips, and made you squeal out. You sobbed for his cock and when he dropped you back down you started bouncing on it.
“Deserve your cock so much, been so good,” you said deliriously. He pushed into you and pulled you up with his strong grip on you and sat up. Yoongi took one of your bouncing breasts in his grip while he held your hips and helped you keep up the rhythm still. With teeth on your nipple, he sucked and glared up at you. “Mmn, Yoongi. Please, make me fucking cum, I want it so bad. Make me cum, ruin me, please.”
The pitch in your voice grew higher and your voice lost in tone; you sounded like you were about to break down and his head stroking your spot with every pulling out made you fall forward. With your movement, he couldn’t keep your breast between his lips and he moved, gripping your throat with his hand and squeezing.
“If you really want to, just fucking cum already. Come on, wet my cock with your tiny, useless pussy. Break down, slut. Cry,” he sneered, holding you up by your throat and you looked at him almost cross-eyed.
When tears started to form at the corners of your eyes you opened your mouth to scream but nothing came out and your hips stuttered forwards. You lifted up from Yoongi’s dick a little before he pushed you down again, removed his hand from your throat to let you get air and elongated your orgasm with the euphoric feeling.
You sagged, breath heavy and your body sweaty overall. “You’re not done yet, dumb whore. Begging for my cum and then not getting your prize?”
Eager to satisfy, you started rolling your hips and concentrated on what you knew made him feel good. You gave him space to lick your nipple before he made you lean back more and he could spit on where your pussy moved over his shaft. “Good fucking slut, now work for it,” he murmured, held your face to come close and kissed you sloppily while you worked towards his orgasm.
Once he started grunting again, you knew he was close and with the right pace, he shut his eyes and held you close to his chest. He moaned in your ear when you felt his dick spurt inside you, filling you with his warm cum before it drizzled out around him. Exhausted, you both stayed quiet and lapped up the comfort of each other.
When Yoongi settled, he checked up on you. “Let me get you cleaned up before you drift off, baby.”
You gave him a tired smile while he rubbed a wet cloth across your sweaty skin before he cleaned off his seed and made sure the sheets weren’t dirty underneath you. He climbed into bed next to you after he cleaned himself and sighed.
“I missed being with you like this,” Yoongi whispered in the darkened room. “Work got me so busy, I missed my perfect little princess.”
You giggled breathlessly before you turned on your side and looked up at his face that was illuminated by the moonlight through your window.
“Now you’re here, ‘s all that matters.”
Present day
“When Seokjin gave me this case, I already swore to him I’d cut his balls off, but today,” you shout. “Today, he really went overboard.”
The morning in the office started out with you planning the murder of Kim Seokjin. Not without reason, of course. He not only signed out of the office for the rest of the week, but left behind the biggest tower of files for you to work on. A note accompanied the paperwork, clumsy handwriting saying, “wish you the best of luck with this, Yoongi called btw so call him back! xo” and a little heart next to it.
Currently, you were crumbling this note and pretending to try to eat it, only to throw it into the bin next to your desk. Your favorite colleague, who was also Seokjin’s beloved boyfriend, leaned on your office wall and smiled at your antics.
“Namjoon, I really can’t deal with him any longer. Why did he call out of the office if it wasn’t even for you?” You threw your head on the table, “it’s literally only to make me go insane.”
Namjoon chuckled into his fist and watched as you threw your head back only to look down on your lap again. “Your suffering brings him joy; we all know that,” he said.
You shook your head as you started to sort the files into smaller stacks, making it easier to overlook all the work that was ahead of you.
“Seokjin only did me a favor by putting you on the case; you know that.” He murmured this quietly, his guilt clear to pick up. He’s been struggling with admitting to his role in this situation, you were aware of it.
You shook your head, ready to defend him. “Stop making yourself feel bad about this. You only did an old friend a favor; you know that, I know it too. I’m not mad at you, Joonie.”
He sighed, looking down at his feet, shuffling the dust on the floor around. “Me asking Jin to put you on the case, just because Yoongi wanted me to, was insensitive. And that’s a fact.”
You knew that fighting his words wouldn’t get you anywhere, so you only looked at him with a pout, before you faced the work at hand again.
You knew Namjoon well, well before he started working at this office, even before he knew Seokjin. You met through Yoongi, Namjoon overlooked his finances.
During the time that you were with Yoongi, you obviously didn’t know that, having been fooled into believing that Yoongi was just an ordinary IT nerd. Namjoon frequented social gatherings and became your friend and ally in tough times. When all shit went loose, you helped him out of there and got him a secure job at your office, automatically introducing him to the love of his life.
When you look at him, you see your best friend, not someone who played into your ex’s games. Yoongi only used his connection to Namjoon to get close to you again, but that didn’t mean you’d be mad at your friend.
Right when you wanted to start up a different conversation, Namjoon discovered Jungkook standing next to your door. “I think we have a spy on our hands,” he joked.
The culprit stepped forwards, an innocent smile on his lips. You tsked, wiggling your finger in front of you. “You’re not being paid to listen to our gossip, Jungkook.” Your tone was stern but your smile showed that it wasn’t serious.
“I’m not getting paid at all, actually.” His response was delivered dry and he stepped away, giggling.
Astonished, both of you chuckled. With an excuse to go back to his own work, Namjoon waved and said a meek “I’m still sorry, though.”
You could only shake your head. He wasn’t at all at fault. In the end, you could’ve expected Yoongi to find a way to get close to you again.
↬ genre: parents to be au, established relationship au, smut [18+]
↬ summary: Nearing the end of your pregnancy, Jungkook finds it nearly impossible to keep his eyes off you. When Taehyung notices, he invites him into your bed... along with Jimin.
↬ wc: 5.7k
↬ warnings: cursing, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, mention of past poly!relationship (vminkook x reader), pet names, marking (hickeys), fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), voyeurism, m. masturbation, spanking, cock slapping, gagging, choking, creampies, degradation, overstimulation, light cumplay
↬ date: December 30, 2020
Jungkook couldn’t help but stare, his eyes fixated on the curve of your stomach. His body grew hot, almost stifling, as his tongue peeked from between his lips to moisten them, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
You were oblivious to his face, one hand on your lower back and the other on your stomach as you paced back and forth in the kitchen, waiting for Taehyung to come home from a business meeting. You were due any day now, you’d actually gone past your due date. All the boys were on high alert and Taehyung had forbidden you to be alone at home in case you went into labor or needed medical attention.
Today, you were under Jungkook’s watchful eyes, his smoldering gaze going unnoticed by you. By now, your pacing had caused you to sweat slightly, so you went over to your birthing ball and sat on it. You held your phone in your hands, slowly bouncing on the ball as you scrolled through your socials.
Jungkook felt like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were wide, his throat was dry and all he could focus on was the way your breasts bounced, barely contained by the fabric of the baggy shirt you had stolen from him. Lately, you had gone around the apartment, stealing his oversized shirts along with Taehyung’s, foregoing bras and bottoms altogether for the sake of being comfortable. Not that any of them minded.
He wondered if your tits would pop out of the shirt if you bounced any harder. He was unable to look away as you placed your phone on the coffee table, placing your hands on your knees as you bounced. You could feel the heavy weight of your chest as you moved, soft whimpers escaping your lips as you rolled your head forward and back.
Jungkook could feel his jeans tightening, his cock hardening as he watched the gray shirt stretch across your chest, your nipples poking through. This is how it ends, Jungkook thought as he wriggles in his seat on the couch, rubbing the sweat off his hands on his pants. He gulps, hoping Taehyung will get home soon so he can run off to his bedroom and get himself off.
As if by some magical occurrence, Taehyung walks through the door minutes later, a bright smile on his face as his eyes land on his beautiful girlfriend.
“Tae!” You greet him, bouncing faster and higher. Taehyung can’t help but stare at the way your breasts bounce, almost spilling out of your top. Taehyung bites his lip, suddenly feeling aroused as he sees you continuing to bounce on the ball, remembering how you were just bouncing on his cock earlier this morning before his meeting.
“Hey, baby. How are my girls?” Taehyung asks as he crosses the living room, walking past Jungkook to kneel in front of you. His hands replace yours on your knees, halting your bouncing for a moment as his hands roam up your body to cradle your belly in his large hands.
“We’re doing okay, Tae.” You assure him as he places kisses on your stomach, his hands then grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it upward so your stomach is exposed.
Jungkook shuts his eyes, cursing in his head as he feels his jeans constricting. He feels like he’s going to combust if he opens his eyes to look at you. He’s thankful that you and Taehyung are lost in your own world to pay him any attention.
“Fuck, your boobs look massive! I’m surprised they haven’t spilled out of your shirt yet, although I certainly wouldn’t mind if they did.” Taehyung licks his lips, his hands gently cupping your breasts, he’s not surprised to see you’re not wearing a bra, but he’s surprised to see the gray material grow darker.
Jungkook peers an eye open and then the other, his eyes landing on your shirt where it’s grown darker. He furrows his brows, confused as to how that could have happened when it had all been the same shade just moments ago.
“Shit,” Taehyung’s voice is deep, sultry as he runs his fingers over your shirt on the wet spot.
You blink once, twice before looking down at your shirt, your eyes widening when you see you’ve started leaking again.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’ll go clean up.”
“No!” You’re shocked by both Taehyung and Jungkook’s shouts.
Taehyung turns to look at his younger friend, whose cheeks have turned cardinal as he fidgets in his seat under his elder’s gaze.
“Looks like Jungkook is a fan as well,” Taehyung smirked deviously, his gaze firmly planted on his junior as he pulls your top over your breasts.
You watch your boyfriend as he exhales profoundly, his eyes riddled with lust as he sees the small beads of milk roll down the curvature of your belly. Taehyung growls, his chest rumbling as he carefully takes your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, gently squeezing it. He’s delighted to see a few more drops spill, his head leaning forward as he sticks his tongue out to capture the droplets.
Jungkook’s frozen solid, his hands gripping his jeans so hard his knuckles have gone white. His breathing has grown heavier, ragged as he watches Taehyung from his spot, wishing it was him in Taehyung’s place. He swallows thickly, nibbling on his bottom lip for a moment as he feels his cock straining against his boxers, aching to be released. He slouches forward, sitting with his legs spread open to help ease his erection, but it does little to help.
Taehyung moans, his eyes fluttering shut, his lashes resting on his cheeks as he savors the taste. You watch him, your hand coming to stroke his hair gently as you feel his tongue lick at your breast. You feel hot, your thighs aching to clench together to soothe the need between them, but your boyfriend keeps you from getting the relief you crave. He’s too occupied by this new revelation to notice the way your breathing has changed, to see the way your eyes have filled with lust as you watch him tentatively squeeze your full breast. He’s amazed at the way more milk dribbles out slowly, a deep moan filling the air as he licks it up.
Finally, Taehyung sits back, drawing his attention toward his friend who has been watching this go down. With a salacious smile, Taehyung raises his index finger, using it to call Jungkook to join the two of you.
“Jungkook, come get a taste.” Jungkook’s deep brown eyes widen, his saliva getting caught in his throat, making him choke for a moment. Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head at the boy before telling him to come over.
Jungkook rises from his seat slowly, nervously crossing the short distance to fall to his knees beside his best friend, the father of your baby. Taehyung places his hand on his back, rubbing it in soothing circles before he scoots to the side, making you spread your legs further. Taehyung grips your hips, making sure you don’t lose your balance.
“Don’t be scared,” you giggle, reaching down to cup your breast and offer it to Jungkook. He hesitates, turning to look at his friend. Taehyung nods encouragingly, slightly pushing him forward. Jungkook wets his lips with his tongue, exhaling before he timidly sticks his tongue out to allow the few droplets that have formed to fall on his tongue. He moans as they hit his taste buds, his head tilting back, exposing his gorgeous neck as he swallows gratefully. You taste delicious, he knew you would, and it seems surreal that he’s gotten a taste of you.
“Delicious, right?” Taehyung asked. Jungkook opens his eyes. He looks drunk with lust as he nods through his daze. Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls your shirt back into place before he has Jungkook stand behind you as he rises. Taehyung helps you get off the ball, Jungkook’s hovering behind you in case you stumble so he can catch you.
Taehyung takes one of your hands, Jungkook taking the other as they lead you down the hall toward the bedroom you and Taehyung share. Jungkook can feel the butterflies in his stomach, and although he’s been with you before, he still gets nervous around you.
Taehyung has Jungkook help you onto the bed, making sure you’re comfortable before he gets on the bed. Jungkook is on his knees, his palms on his jeans as he watches you for a moment.
“Kiss her, Jungkook. She’s not going to break.” Taehyung says, his hands pulling his shirt upward and off his body to toss to the side as he sits behind you with his legs on either side of you.
Jungkook blushes, moving forward to caress your cheek. Taehyung kisses your cheek before whispering, “It looks like Jungkook is a fan of your milk filled tits too. Wouldn’t he look hot drinking from them again?”
You moan in response, spreading your legs further apart as Taehyung slips his hand into your wet panties. The shirt you’re wearing soaked through with milk. Your nipples pebbled and poking through the shirt.
“Jungkook?” Taehyung calls, making his eyes widen. “Don’t be shy, Jungkook. We know you find her attractive,” Taehyung smirks as he lifts the shirt to rest over your round stomach.
Jungkook is breathless, eyes wide and cock throbbing in the confines of his pants as he stares in awe of you. Despite having his lips around your breast earlier, seeing you again left him star struck. He gulps, looking from your tits to your eyes.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” you answer in response as you take his shaky hand and place it on your breast. Jungkook sighs in relief as he feels your skin underneath his palm. Taehyung watches on intently from behind you as Jungkook adjusts himself on his knees, gently caressing your full breasts.
“She’s not made of glass, Kookie. You can touch her like normal… although her nipples are more sensitive, she'll tell you when to stop,” Taehyung informs him, and Jungkook is thankful for the information. He swallows thickly, nodding as he cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing your pert nipples.
“Can I?” Jungkook asks softly, licking his lips as he stares blatantly at your tits. You giggle, nodding as Taehyung pushes your hair to the side, planting kisses on the column of your throat as his hands rest on your thighs.
“Tae,” you moan, your head resting on his shoulder seconds before Jungkook’s pretty lips wrap around your nipple, coaxing milk to fill his mouth.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groans. The taste of your milk is intoxicating. He can’t seem to get enough as he switches breasts. Taehyung feels his cock throb, watching his best friend suckling your tits. He thinks about all those times the three of you had been a thing before you decided to call it quits, as you both became more serious about having your own baby.
“Fuck.” Jungkook curses again, reveling in the euphoria that consumes him. He wants you so fucking bad. He wants to bury his cock inside you once again, feel the warmth of your wet cunt wrapped around him as you milk him for all he’s worth.
The thought alone has his cock straining against his pants, his hand moving to unbutton his jeans and pull the zipper. The relief is minimal, but he’s too focused on licking up every droplet that flows from you to care.
Taehyung moves behind you, stripping down to his boxers before Jungkook does the same. Taehyung’s cautious hands pull the shirt off your body, tossing it to the side before Jungkook takes your panties off.
Jungkook cups your face, kissing you. You kiss him back, moaning when he tugs gently at your bottom lip, your hands lacing in his hair as Taehyung cups your tits, rolling the nipples between his fingers.
You don’t think you can experience more pleasure than this. You’re so aroused, you can feel your wetness coating every inch of you as Jungkook grips your thigh, his fingers slowly making their way to the apex of your thighs before he’s pushing two of them into you.
Taehyung kisses your neck, allowing Jungkook to kiss the other side as they both mark you. You moan, wanting more of them, not caring what they do as long as they’re touching you in some way or another.
“Please,” you plead as you grin Jungkook’s arm, making him push his fingers deeper into you. Jungkook’s eyes widen in panic, but you assure him you’re fine. He hesitates, looking at Taehyung, who nods in response.
“Let him eat you out,” Taehyung smirks. Jungkook blushes, but slots between your thighs as you lean back on Tae’s chest. Jungkook licks his lips, gripping your thighs before planting kisses on your inner thighs. You grip Taehyung’s hand, moving slightly so you can kiss him as you feel the first swipe of Kook’s tongue on your cunt.
“Jungkook!” You gasp, back arching. Taehyung chuckles as he kisses your cheek. Jungkook swells with pride as he dives back in, his tongue working wonders on your cunt.
“That’s it, Kook. Eat her cunt. You’ve missed eating her pussy, haven’t you? Show her just how much,” Tae smirks as you grip Kook’s inky locks tightly. You squirm beneath him, whining and moaning as his tongue laves at your clit. You’re a wet, dripping mess, but Jungkook is loving every second as he licks up every drop of your arousal. Your thighs quiver as he places them over his shoulders, his cock rutting into the mattress.
“Please.” you sob, feeling overly sensitive as your thighs tremble and you grip your boyfriend’s hand. “Ah! Jungkook!”
“Come on, love. Cum for him. Cum for Jungkook,” Taehyung encourages sweetly as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. He kisses your neck, watching you come undone.
“Fuck, Tae. Jungkook!” you cry out as you orgasm, but Jungkook doesn’t slow. His tongue and fingers work your cunt until you’re a fumbling, mumbling mess. You push him away from your cunt, making him chuckle as he kisses your cheek.
“Was that as good as you remember?”
“Better,” you answer honestly as you go lax in Tae’s arms. He kisses your temple, asking if you’d like to keep going. When you say yes, he gives you a wary look.
“I promise I’ll let you know if I need a break,” Taehyung hesitates, but trusts you to let him know when you need to rest.
Jungkook trails kisses down your jaw to your neck, nipping at it before he’s kissing way back down your body. He’s on his knees between you, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s as he places his palms on your stomach.
Taehyung grins, his hand stroking Jungkook’s cheek.
Jungkook melts into his touch for a moment before kissing your belly and slinking down between your parted legs once again. You moan, loudly.
Jimin is glad to be home, he never cared too much for meetings but his agent had said this one was of the utmost importance. So ruefully, Jimin has been present.
Now, he was glad to be kicking his shoes off and loosening his tie as he made his way past the living room. He found it odd you and Jungkook weren’t there. Have you gone out? He wonders as he steps into the hallway.
He tried to be quiet as he walks past the bedroom, but seeing Jungkook in the room stops him.
Taehyung sees movement out of his peripheral, grinning before waving Jimin in; he gasps.
Jungkook’s buried between your thighs, your eyes shut and your head resting on Tae’s shoulder. Your fingers laced in Jungkook’s hair, moaning his name as he flicks your clit with his tongue.
“Why don’t you join us, Minnie?”
“I-I…”
“You what?” Taehyung asks as he squeezes your tits, milk slowly dribbling over your belly.
“Fuck,” Jimin rasps, his eyes following the milk.
“She tastes so sweet, hyung,” Jungkook groans in response.
Jimin climbs onto the bed, minding Jungkook as he ends up on your left side. His hands are hesitant as he touches you, caressing your face before you beg him to kiss you.
Taehyung can feel his cock throbbing in his boxers, aching to be released
You help Jimin out of his clothes, marveling at his body. Your hands trace every ridge of his abs before you have him kneeling in front of you so you can kiss his abs, your tongue tracing them before you cum on Jungkook’s tongue.
You push Jimin onto his back, kissing his lips down to his neck to his chest where you trace his ‘nevermind’ tattoo
You run your hands over his cock, confined in his jeans before you undo them. You suck marks on his pelvis, feeling Jungkook’s hands on your back before he pushes two fingers into your soaking wet cunt. You gasp, taking Jimin’s dick in your mouth. Spitting and slurping on his length.
Taehyung releases his cock, spitting in his hand before stroking it. His eyes on his two best friends fooling around with his pregnant girlfriend
Jungkook rubs her arousal on his cock, grunting at the feel of it, “can I…? C-Can I fuck you?”
“Please, Kookie,” you plead as you raise your head, your fucked out gaze meeting Jimin’s.
Jimin strokes your hair, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip before his thumb traces your lower lip.
You take his thumb into your mouth, suckling it for a moment, your tongue wrapped around it.
Jimin throws his head back, grunting before you release him.
You kiss the head of his cock, your hand stroking his cock as you spit on it. You watch the saliva run down his cock before your tongue is licking it back up. You take his dick in your mouth, moaning happily when he fists your hair, guiding you as he fucks your throat.
Jungkook wets his cock with your arousal, the blunt head catching at your entrance, teasing you. Your moans reverberate around Jimin’s cock, his hand on your hair tightening.
“That’s it, baby, just like that,” Jimin coos, his head falling back as Taehyung leans over to kiss him.
Jimin kisses him back eagerly, his tongue pushing past the seam of his lips as Jimin’s other hand wraps around Taehyung’s hard cock, dribbling pre-cum.
“So fucking tight,” Jungkook gasps, burying himself to the hilt.
His hands hold your hips before they move down to your belly. His cock throbs, his eyes shutting tight as he groans. He loves the feel of your soft skin beneath his palms, the roundness of your belly, and the intoxicating scent of your body.
“You feel so good, babe. Fuck!” Jungkook grunts, his hips pounding into you, causing your ass to jiggle. He palms at it, smacking it to make you moan around Jimin’s cock that’s stuffed in your mouth.
Jimin curses, his fingers laced in your hair as he fucks your throat. Every obscene sound that fills the room has Taehyung stroking his cock as he watches you get pounded into oblivion by his best friends.
“Fuck, baby!” Jungkook’s head looks back, pleasure coursing through his veins as he continues to thrust in and out of you. “I’ve missed fucking this cunt. Feels so good wrapped around my cock, love.”
You whimper in return, rocking your hips back into Jungkook while Jimin takes his cock out of your mouth to slap against your cheek. You whine, begging him to put it back down your throat.
Jimin smirks, licking his lips as he sees the mess he’s made of your face before he shoves his dick back down your throat. You gag, the sound making him groan as you look up at him.
“Such a good girl for us, huh? You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” Jimin doesn’t expect a reply but you inhale sharply before widening your mouth to take more of him until your nose pressed against his pelvis.
You clench around Jungkook, his hips stuttering. He curses profusely, slowing as he fucks you with shallow thrusts.
Jimin takes his cock out of your mouth, ignoring your protests as Jungkook fucks you harder and faster. The room fills with your moans and his, his thrust growing sloppy.
“Fuck, Jungkook!”
“Cum all over my cock, love. Fuck…” Jungkook growls, his fingers digging into your hips as you meet each of his thrusts. His fingers move between your legs, rubbing at your clit as he carefully makes you rise into your knees with his hand around your throat but not squeezing it at all.
Taehyung watches the two of you intently, Jimin kissing his neck as he listens to the sweet symphony of sounds the two of you have created.
“Love having my cock buried inside you, baby. I’ve missed filling you with my cock and cum. You’re so beautiful like this,” Jungkook murmurs as his hand moves to your round belly. His forehead rests on your shoulder as he curses, nipping at the skin as you grip his forearm.
You fall into him, your cries of pleasure making all the men pulsate as you come undone at Jungkook’s hand.
“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking cock,” Jungkook hisses, fucking your warm, wet cunt as you moan his name. Your thighs tremble, your head turning to kiss him messily as he squeezes your tits. Milk dribbles down your stomach and Jimin is eager to lick you clean.
Taehyung stops stroking his cock, almost cumming at the sight. He notices Jungkook is right at the edge of his own orgasm, a smirk on his lips.
“That’s it, Jungkookie. Cum in her, fill her with your seed. I’ve already gotten her pregnant, it won’t matter.”
Jungkook whimpers, his thrusts growing sloppy as his hand roams over your belly. His head lolls back, deep, guttural groans escaping his kiss-swollen lips as his thrusts grow sloppy. He shuts his eyes tight, his fingers strumming at your clit. He imagines what it’d be like to see you round with his seed instead. Your milk just for him instead of Taehyung. The thought is enough to have him groaning your name, abs tightening as he cums inside you.
His hair falls over his eyes, his thrusts slowing until he’s fully spent. Every drop of his seed left deep in your pussy.
Jungkook pulls out, his breathing ragged as he drops onto the bed. Jimin moves over, his hands on your tits as he licks up a drop of milk.
“Why don’t you have a go, Jiminie?” Taehyung’s hooded gaze meets his elders. Jimin gulps, nodding as he asks you if it’s okay.
You eagerly consent, your pussy not feeling satiated just yet.
“Lay down, Jimin. Let her ride you,” Taehyung says as he helps you climb over Jimin.
“Reverse,” Taehyung tuts as you turn and give your back to Jimin. Jimin pouts, but when you sink onto his cock, all complaints fizzle out on his tongue. The warmth of your cunt is enough to have him seeing stars as his eyes flutter shut. His lips part in a silent cry, mouthing your name.
Jungkook is already at half-mast again, watching with a heated gaze as you slowly rise on Jimin.
Taehyung kisses your neck, his hands on your breasts, moaning in delight when milk dribbles from your sensitive nipples.
Pleasure radiates throughout your body, sensitivity driving you wild as your boyfriend sucks his mark onto your neck, his finger rubbing at your clit.
“Look at you, love. Getting fucked like the whore you are. So precious, so beautiful stuffed with my friends' cocks.”
“Ugh, Tae!”
“You like it, don’t you? Like how his fat cock stretches your walls to prepare you for me? You can’t get enough, can you?”
Jimin grunts, his hands on your hips as he helps you ride him. He’s careful with you, not wanting to hurt you, but you want more, you need more. Jimin stops, turning you to face him, his hand cupping your face as he kisses you passionately before you fuck yourself on his cock, using him for your pleasure.
Loud, obscene moans escape your lips, your lovers’ names rolling off your tongue sinfully.
“She looks so hot taking Jimin’s cock,” Jungkook groans, his hand wrapped around his cock as he watches Jimin anchor his feet on the mattress.
“Hold on,” Jimin warns as he fucks into you, you cry out in surprise. Taehyung holds you as Jimin fucks your soaking wet cunt. A smirk tugging at his lips.
“You feel so wet. Are you that horny or is it Jungkook’s cum?” Jimin grunts, fucking you harder as you try to meet his thrusts.
“That’s it, baby. Take his cock. Make me proud,” Taehyung growls in your ear, his lips kissing your earlobe before his teeth give it a gentle tug.
“Tae,” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. The sweet symphony of your moans has all the men melting into puddles around you; eager to hear more.
Your hands lay flat on Jimin’s chest, cries of his name escaping your lips as he fucks you harder, hypnotized by the way your tits bounce up and down.
The three men are drooling as they watch your full tits leak down your body, milk coating your skin.
Taehyung has to hold back, releasing his cock as his hips thrust upward, a few guttural groans escaping his lips as Jungkook curses and Jimin’s eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Jimin moans your name, his hands gripping your hips as he sits up to kiss you. You kiss him eagerly, passionately as his hands cup your breasts, his thumbs rubbing your nipples, stimulating them. Your soft coos are driving him wild, his lips pressing kisses on your neck down to your tits. His lust-filled gaze meets yours, licking his lips before he wraps them around your nipple, suckling it.
“Jimin!”
Jimin grunts in response, suckling your milk, loving the warmth of it as it goes down his throat while his hand massages your other breast. You’re a leaking, moaning mess as you continue to bounce on his cock as best as you can.
Jimin is losing his mind as he fucks you, drinking from you until you’re tightening around his cock. Tears well up in your eyes, your nails digging into Jimin’s shoulders as you bury your face in his neck, crying out in pleasure as you orgasm once again.
“Ah,” you gasp at the oversensitivity. Jimin rubs your back as you continue to ride him slowly, allowing you to use his dick to get yourself off.
“Jimin,” you kiss him, moaning when his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips. Taehyung watches on, his hand stroking his cock before he looks over at Jungkook, who is doing the same.
Jimin allows you to fuck him slowly, your hips rolling as his fingertips brush your clit, rubbing it in rigid circles as you whimper and writhe. Jimin curses, his hand on the nape of your neck to pull you into a messy kiss as he fills you with cum. He grunts, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath.
Your gaze is as intense as his, as your chest rises and falls. His hands lay flat on your stomach, not saying a word as he kisses you once again, leaving his mark on your neck before he helps you off his cock. He kisses your cheek before he moves aside to sit next to Jungkook.
Taehyung spreads your legs wide as you lay on your side, your pregnancy pillow beneath your belly.
“Jimin and Kook did such a good job filling you with cum, princess.”
“Yes,” you hum in response as Taehyung throws your left leg over his, spreading you apart like the Red Sea. Taehyung pushes two of his fingers inside your creamy cunt, withdrawing them when he deems them sufficiently coated.
Tae spreads his fingers, cum threaded between them. Jimin and Jungkook blush.
“Such a good girl, taking their thick loads of cum. It’s a good thing you’re carrying my child, or I’d be worried,” Taehyung laughs before he kisses you. You kiss him back eagerly, your hands in his hair to hold him close. Taehyung settles behind you. His fat cock nudging at your entrance before he pushes into you.
“Oh, fuck. You feel so wet and creamy. So fucking tight around my cock. Looks like I need to stretch you out some more, huh?”
“Taehyungie,” you cry out, feeling the heaviness of his balls rest against your ass after every delicious inch of his big cock fills you. You can feel it kiss your cervix and you reach out for Jimin and Jungkook.
Both men murmur sweet words to you. Jimin pressing kisses to your cheeks while Jungkook laps up the sweet milk that escapes your tits. His hot tongue sends tingles down your back.
You moan, begging the three men for more. You’re spoiled with pleasure. The men wanting nothing more but to make you cum again and again and again.
Jungkook rubs your clit in tight circles as Taehyung kisses your neck, his large palm splayed on your tummy.
“I filled you so good, didn’t I? Fucked my cum into you and got you nice and round with my seed. I bet Jungkook and Jimin wish they were me. I bet they wish you were knocked up with their seed instead,” he growls, making you shudder as you moan in response.
“You’re mine, love. You and this baby. I can’t wait to fill you up again and again. Wanna have your tits filled with milk over and over again.” Taehyung licks his lips, his head moving closer to your breast. His tongue flicks your nipple, his eyes fluttering shut when the dulcet taste of milk hits his taste buds. His hold on your hip tightens, his face nuzzled into your neck as he thrusts into you deeper, grinding his hips into your ass.
Jungkook can’t take it anymore. He flips onto his front to rut against the mattress while his tongue laps at your cunt, Tae groaning when he feels the heat of the youngest’s mouth. Jungkook makes sure to lave at your clit, your thighs trembling as Jimin suckles on your tits. He moans as a steady stream of milk flows down his throat, his hand milking the other breast before he alternates.
“I’m gonna cum,” Taehyung gasps, feeling his stomach clench as you cry out for all the men. You’re so sensitive, growing exhausted as a final wave of pleasure washes over you. A broken cry of Jungkook’s name escapes you, your cunt clenching around your boyfriend’s cock as you grip Jimin’s hair impeccably tight and hold him to your milk filled tits.
“Fuck! Fuck!” You curse as your body shudders with each wave of your orgasm.
Taehyung waits until your cunt is done pulsating around him to pull out of you. Jungkook releases your clit, licking his lips as he sits up, a sheepish grin on his face as you see his cock covered in cum from his second orgasm.
“Fuck yes,” Taehyung groans as Jimin pulls away from your tits, swallowing the mouthful of milk in his mouth. Some dribbles from the corner of his mouth, down his plump lips to his chin.
The sight is enough to have Taehyung cumming all over your round belly.
“Yeah, that’s it. Holy fuck,” he curses as several thick ropes of cum coat your abdomen. Jungkook looks at Jimin, crawling over to him, his pretty pink tongue licking up the droplet of milk before he kisses Jimin.
Taehyung looks at the mess he’s made of you, a smug grin on his face, “Jimin and Jungkook may have filled your cunt with cum but my seed is growing inside you. My cum is on you.” Taehyung licks his lips, pushing his dark hair back and out of his eyes.
He suddenly feels exhausted, curling up behind you with his arm draped over your abdomen, his pretty fingers rubbing his cum into your skin. Taehyung kisses your cheek, nuzzling into you as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin. You smile sheepishly, looking up to see Jimin staring at you. His cheeks are pink.
Jimin blushes as he leans over to kiss your lips, caressing your cheek, before turning to Taehyung.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his eyes displaying his sincerity. Taehyung nods, his hand cupping Jimin’s cheek to kiss him on the lips. Jimin smiles warmly after that, getting off the bed and gathering his clothes as he makes his exit.
Jungkook follows suit, kissing your lips and Taehyung’s before he’s thanking you, his face as red as a tomato as he runs out of your bedroom without his clothes
“Let’s get you into the shower,” Taehyung states as he gets out of bed to get the shower started.
You sit up in bed, your hand on your stomach as you get up carefully. You waddle your way to the bathroom, getting there before you feel sudden wetness between your legs.
You look down, then up at Taehyung, whose eyes are wide.
“Your water broke!” He exclaimed with fear and excitement.
You nod as you get into the shower. No way were you going to the hospital with three men’s cum in and on your body.
Taehyung gets in after you, washing your hair and body. You turn to face him, smiling at him as you rub your belly. Taehyung places a hand on your stomach, his other cupping your face. His thumb strokes your cheek softly, his eyes display the live and adoration he holds for you. You look up at him, displaying the same sentiments with your eyes.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you too.”
“We’re gonna have our baby,” he whispers in affirmation, leaning in to close the gap between you, ignoring the pelting of the shower as his lips meet yours.
thank you for reading! ♡ if you liked it, please let me know! 💌
Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.
CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook
Series: Activate your SIMCard
Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)
Do not repost.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.
At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.
While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.
It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.
You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.
You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.
Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.
Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.
Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.
You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.
You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?
When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.
[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]
How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.
You: I told you not to fucking find me on here
It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.
Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you
Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me
You: Don’t worry I’m gonna
Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh
You: ???
Jungkook: Your legs
Jungkook: Like oreos
Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜
Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.
You: I wish I could unread 🤢
Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites
Jungkook: Just like you 😘
You: 🙄
You: I hate you so much
Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?
You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.
Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀
You: It means I’m tired
Jungkook: Of?
You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.
Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?
Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴
Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.
You: You know what? I want you
FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.
You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.
Jungkook: 😈
Jungkook: My place
Jungkook: Ten minutes
You: *to stay off my profile
Jungkook: 👉👌?
You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT
You: 🤢🤢🤢
Jungkook: 😩
Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess
Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴
You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego
Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here
He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.
Jungkook: Hey quick question
Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻
Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.
There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?
You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?
Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.
You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.
The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.
He forgot.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.
It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.
“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”
“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”
“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.
As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.
“What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.
“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.
You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”
“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”
Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.
Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.
He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.
With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.
Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.
“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.
You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?
You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."
“What?"
“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”
You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.
“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”
Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.
“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”
Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?
“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”
Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”
“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."
As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.
Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.
You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.
"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”
“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.
“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”
Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?
“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”
“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”
“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”
Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?
“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”
“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”
“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”
“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”
“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.
“Zip up your hoodie.”
You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.
Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.
“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”
Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”
Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”
Even he knows that argument is flimsy.
“Guk.”
“It was always just a joke.”
“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”
Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.
Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.
Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”
“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”
“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”
Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.
Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”
Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”
“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”
“Yeah.”
“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”
“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.
"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"
The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.
"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."
You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”
Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"
Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.
After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.
"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.
He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”
“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.
“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”
“But—”
“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”
“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.
Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.
You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”
“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”
In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”
“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”
“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.
“With beef,” he agrees.
“Gyoza?”
“Mhm.”
“And takoyaki?”
“...You’re pushing it.”
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”
He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”
“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.
“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”
“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.
"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"
You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.
"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.
Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?
“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.
Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.
“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.
“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.
"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”
He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.
“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.
The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”
“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”
Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”
“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.
He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”
Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.
“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.
“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”
“What? When?”
“The other day. We hung out.”
He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.
“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”
Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”
“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”
“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.
“You guys talked about me?”
“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.
Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”
“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”
“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”
You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”
“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”
You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”
Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”
“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”
“Y/N.”
“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”
“We allowed to talk about Jason?”
“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”
He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”
“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”
“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”
You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.
You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”
He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”
You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.
“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”
His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.
“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”
He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.
“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”
“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”
“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”
“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”
“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.
If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.
“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”
He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.
NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to
JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry
JUNGKOOK: I got u
Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.
“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.
“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”
“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”
Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”
He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.
“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”
Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?
“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.
Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.
As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.
You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.
It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.
He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.
When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”
He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.
“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”
You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”
He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”
Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.
“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.
Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.
“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.
The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.
The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"
"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.
You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.
Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.
"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"
He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.
The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"
His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"
You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."
He nods. "Mm. We can split it."
"Um, how about... tempura?"
"Banana?"
Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.
The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."
The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.
“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."
"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.
He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."
“Oh, really?”
You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.
“I’ve been a dick.”
“No shit.”
Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”
How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.
“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”
“You don’t say.”
That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.
“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”
“Well, you did,” you mumble.
“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?
“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”
Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”
It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.
He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”
“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”
“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”
“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.
“For real.”
You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”
He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.
“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”
You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”
Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”
You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”
He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”
Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”
He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”
“I want that in writing,” you snort.
Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”
“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”
“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.
You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.
Princess
I’m sorry. I can make it right.
I promise. Please give me another chance.
If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.
As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook
Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.
“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”
His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.
“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”
He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.
“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.
“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.
“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.
Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”
Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”
“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”
Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”
“Joonie—”
“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”
“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”
As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.
Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”
“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”
The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.
Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”
The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.
“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.
Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.
“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.
Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”
Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.
A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”
Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.
A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?
His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.
You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.
He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.
It’s also kind of cute.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.
After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.
It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.
Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.
As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.
“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.
“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.
He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”
“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.
Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.
“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.
Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.
“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.
“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”
“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”
“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.
“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.
His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.
“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.
“Like, full body?”
“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”
“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.
“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.
“Which one?”
The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.
“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”
You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.
“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.
“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”
“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”
“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.
He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”
He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”
“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”
The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”
He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”
You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”
“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”
“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”
“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.
He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”
“Really.”
You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.
“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”
The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?
“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”
“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.
“I hear a pop.”
“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.
“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”
“Oh no. Knees?”
“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”
His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”
“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”
“Uhh…”
“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”
“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”
He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”
You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?
“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”
The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.
“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.
“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”
“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”
His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”
As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.
Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.
It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.
Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.
“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”
“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.
Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”
You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?
Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.
You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.
Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.
Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.
Y/N.exe has stopped working.
Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.
“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”
Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”
“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.
“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.
“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.
“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”
He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”
You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.
“I think… A lot.”
“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.
Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.
Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.
“So…” he begins.
You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.
“I was thinking. About that guy…”
You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.
“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“
Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?
“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.
“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.
It's cry hours, isn’t it?
Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”
“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.
“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”
It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?
‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.
“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”
He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”
If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.
“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”
A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.
Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.
"It's late. I should sleep."
Or masturbate.
The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.
"Whoa. You okay?"
"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."
"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"
"Just wanna stop spinning."
His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.
"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."
"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.
“You gonna make it there?”
“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.
"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.
Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.
“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.
You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.
He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.
“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.
While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.
Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.
You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.
Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.
"Princess?"
Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.
You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.
Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?
Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.
But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.
The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.
“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.
He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.
Oh shit.
You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.
“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.
The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”
You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?
Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.
Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.
Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."
Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"
As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?
He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.
“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.
You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”
He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”
“‘Night,” you mumble.
As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.
The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.
He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.
Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.
He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.
Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.
He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.
