#pairing: yoonmin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taegularities · 11 months ago

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colour me in: palette | jjk (m)

Summary: Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise — even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending 🥺 ➳ word count: 32.6k ➳ a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think 🤍 ➳ listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

DAY 1

“Bunk beds… Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.”

Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You haven’t quite yet deciphered what’s going on; you’ve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that he’s now groaning about.

“Wait… what?” Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.

Jimin, as agitated as you haven’t seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobby’s upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.

“We’d booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.” Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. We’d pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.”

“Same price?” Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.

“Oh my god,” Eun whispers, matching Jimin’s drama-loving freak, “this is… we’re being robbed.”

“So,” Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friends’ growing hysteria, “we just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?”

Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if he’s uttered sheer nonsense; Eun’s eyes squint, questioning how he’d dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eun’s, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.

But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, “I guess…”

“Yeah, and then, who’s getting the queen sized bed?” you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and you’re dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. “How do we decide that?”

“That’s the question,” Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, “I think we’ll have to fight for it, folks.”

“…How?”

Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that aren’t feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.

That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, “We’ll just go the easiest way we know.”

The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyung’s closest pals, they’re bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the man’s tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.

“…Wait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.”

“No,” Jimin again, “I don’t trust any of you to not manipulate this.”

Voices soon mingle, offended by Jimin’s distrust, retorts flying around such as, “Oh, thanks for this,” or “Why would we manipula—”

“Come on!” Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. “We’re all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.”

Well… maybe he’s not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend’s warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.

Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkook’s embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, “This is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you and…”

But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, “It’s okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, we’ve got this.”

If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.

And thinking about it, you’ve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.

And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, you’d notice.

Notice everything.

How he’d kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, “Hi, angel,” without really expecting a response back. He’d pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.

You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.

But…

It seems that today, luck isn’t quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you haven’t got this. Because mere five minutes later, you’re staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.

Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when it’s time to decide between the remaining of you four, it’s not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple you’ve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.

Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once they’ve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.

Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You don’t get it; aren’t they upset about the separation?

Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. You’ve been played so bad.

“And what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?” Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.

But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, “Nah. It’s just two nights, we’ll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,” he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, “we can’t leave the last couple all alone here.”

You smirk in mock, tilting your head, “Ha-ha. You’re way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Min—”

“Come on,” Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, “solidarity, baby. It’ll be fun.” He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, “We’ll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?”

Oh, as if you could forget.

Jungkook’s hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You can’t predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because you’re reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.

Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.

Your face warms at the thought; you’ve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more — you don’t think you’ve ever been this pumped in your life.

No — do not think about it. Let it come to you… carpe diem and all that.

You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for today’s outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, “Okay. I’ll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.”

Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume he’s tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.

But if you were in his head, you’d know that he’s long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.

Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.

Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.

The pullover doesn’t feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You don’t think you’ll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.

You’re liking the village; maybe it’s the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. It’s redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.

And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place — you can’t describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.

The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan you’ve already settled on buying. It’s a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.

You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once you’ve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.

Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didn’t quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, “Damn.”

“I take it you like it as much as I do.”

“Do one of your three sixty spins.”

He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.

You keep asking, “Are you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?”

And he always responds, “No. Show me another one of the dresses.”

But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he can’t control his occasionally occurring ticks — you know they’re a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.

So you ask, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he explains, “driving all day made me drowsy.”

Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, “I told you to let me drive.”

“Yes, but…. I like driving,” he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, “and you were having fun.”

Honestly—

Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.

“Okay. Lean back now.”

The road was challenging, Jungkook’s voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling — though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.

A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, “Angel!”

You’d separated the large group — Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasn’t awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.

Your car because you’d be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyung’s vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkook’s hometown didn’t dim a single bit, you were a little sad that you’d be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.

Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.

He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.

The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.

Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongi’s sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.

It took you a moment to understand — Yoongi isn’t a bad driver at all, as you’ve been told by himself, but he’s still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldn’t risk it.

Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.

You’re a handful — but he has confessed a hundred times before that he’d rather have that than an empty palm.

“No wonder you’re tired,” you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, “Poor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.”

“I mean,” Jungkook starts, “they both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?”

Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that you’d summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.

So you say, “Kind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. For me, it was already official… didn’t think it’d need an announcement.”

“Maybe you’re right? It’s as much of a secret as we are.”

You break into a grin. “Right?” And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. “What do you think?”

“Oh, you should buy it.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’d be good to look at and then fun to rip off.”

You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you — face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.

And then, partly to remind him of where he’s sitting right now — not far from an elderly lady who’s currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.

“Ugh, can you only think about that?” you joke, right before wiggling a finger. “This one’s expensive. You’re not ripping off shit.”

“Hey, don’t scold me. You’re just as bad!”

“I’m not! In case you don’t remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.”

“Ah, ahhh,” he teases, cocking an eyebrow, “in case you don’t remember, only very reluctantly.” You can’t suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. “But seriously, you look gorgeous.”

“Right! I’ll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party you’ll definitely host once you’ve established yourself as the nation’s biggest artist.”

And that’s when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, “Decide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I can’t handle both.”

“But you do every day,” you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, “Okay, okay. We’ll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.”

Where you’ll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.

Excited doesn’t do this feeling justice.

Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least that’s what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You don’t provoke him further — only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.

You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, “Have you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.”

“Yeah, they went into another souvenir sho— wait, that’s Eun, isn’t it?”

You squint into the distance.

God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.

And you’re so loving the shops. They’re small, their owners as hospitable as you haven’t met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.

Shit, and the stalls! They’re popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks — candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasn’t ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.

Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you ate or drank — and just imagining the fruity flavour, you can’t help but suggest, “Ohhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts don’t seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.

You’re moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, “Hmm, no, I think I’ll get a coffee a bit later. I’ll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.”

You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you can’t find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, “Okay. You know where to find us if you need to.”

“Got it,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.

Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak you’ll reach tomorrow.

So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.

Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eun’s arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.

It’s still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.

Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like he’s more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.

Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase he’d like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.

And Jungkook waits… waits calmly until a voice breathes a, “What you doing?” into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, “Everything good?”

Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, “Goddamn, dude. Don’t do that.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?” he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. “Oh! Is this for me?”

Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, “C’mon.” And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, “Alright. It’s for her. I’ll give it to her at the wedding.”

“Damn, a little present for the date at a wedding? You’re down bad.”

“How did you guess that?” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, “Not a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

That’s it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeans’ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. It’s awkward until it isn’t — until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, “Listen.”

Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkook’s tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, “I know I said my piece that night already, but…” A grimace, kissing his lips, then, “I’m really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I should’ve given you a chance much sooner.”

Well, fuck.

For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didn’t waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the man’s eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.

But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jimin’s stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that time…

“But you have given me a chance now,” Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, “and I appreciate that just as much.”

“You remember what I said to you back then?”

Of course… he might remember each detail of that night forever.

“Of course,” Jungkook echoes, “you said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.”

“And I meant it.”

“She said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. “Well, I guess that’s true to some extent. But it’s definitely not just that.” He reviews his thoughts; then, “It’s more so the fact that you came back.”

That he came back.

Jimin doesn’t mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.

Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didn’t think he needed.

“And in hindsight,” Jimin speaks on, “while I disagree with what you did before that,” a sting in Jungkook’s beating heart, “I think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but… you want her happy, right?”

There’s no debate about this.

“So much,” Jungkook immediately agrees, “it just doesn’t make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.”

“I agree. And you came back, that’s what it is. You’re here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of… safety.” He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. “Making her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didn’t. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.”

Something to fight for… someone to fight for.

How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?

Jungkook’s heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.

“You’re just half as bad, huh?” he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.

“No, you.” More snicker. “But seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with… all the issues around her, she’s repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again… added that you do, too. No details, no worries!”

He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that it’s okay, that it’s true.

So Jimin continues, “But just… whenever you might feel like you’re not doing enough — because let’s be real, we all do sometimes — remember that you make at least one person happy.”

Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.

“I never expected to hear this from you, but… I really am thankful, Jimin.”

Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. “And if it helps. I’m really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.”

Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jimin’s addition, “And by the way, she’ll love that. Will feel like the bride, probably—”

Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jimin’s eyes follow Jungkook’s, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jimin’s lie nearly doesn’t come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, “He was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows you’ll be the talk of the night.”

“Come onnnn,” you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, “this is so weak. I know you, Park. That’s not what you were talking about.”

“It is!” Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him — but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, aren’t there? “I told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you can’t contradict that.”

Jungkook’s acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you won’t get anything out of them.

Besides, you love surprises. You won’t ruin it for yourself.

So you wave the white flag, only saying, “I don’t really believe you, but okay,” before turning, gripping Jungkook’s hand and adding, “Listen. You don’t get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.”

And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eun’s curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something like…

Friendship.

Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.

Tonight, it’s gimbap.

You’ve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how it’s made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.

When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.

Or so you thought.

Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, he’s still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, “Do they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?”

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.

“No, this isn’t a very luxurious place anyway,” he explains, “and besides. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Jungkook leans into him as he asks, “Aren’t you quite close with the receptionist?” Pause. “Do you think they’d let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?”

“Wow, you really are craving it,” Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.

“Jungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,” Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.

You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand what’s going on. And when you find Jungkook’s big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know he’s gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, “If you charm them, maybe.”

“Come on. I know how to charm people,” he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.

He’s brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, “Go ahead,” but barely a second later, he’s on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, “Decided to help me?”

“Only because I’m hungry, too. Can make them together.”

Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it could’ve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.

You’re surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?

As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, “That’s new.”

It’s quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.

Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know they’re pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea — and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.

Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.

Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny ‘Oh’ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They don’t come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. There’s more room there for sure.

They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You can’t really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.

You can’t believe it. What an odd sight — but good for them.

“That’s rare indeed,” Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.

You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.

You ask, “Hey. Do you play?”

“Hm?” Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. “Ah. Yeah, I play sometimes.”

“He plays all the time,” Taehyung corrects.

Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, “I’ve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though there’s still a long way to go.”

“Any song you enjoy playing the most?” you ask, leaning in.

“Ohh, you’ll like this.” His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know you’ve introduced the right topic. “You like oldies, don’t you?”

“I do, actually! How do you know?”

Taehyung chimes in, “Jungkook told us. Like literal months ago.”

Perhaps it’s the new sentiments you’re still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.

You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasn’t even opened it yet.

Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.

“Wait,” you say, “in which context? I’m nosy, and now I want to know.”

“He said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is… what was it again?”

Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but it’s Eun who answers fondly, “It’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. Ever since… always.”

You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, “So is it true? Do you like me then?”

“I adore you.”

Your face heats up more. “You didn’t tell me what you like playing the most.”

“I would say I enjoy…”

“Or wait. Don’t tell me. What if you played it?”

“Now hold on—”

Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, “Go ahead, please.”

You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, “I know you want to.”

Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but he’s just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so you’re barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, “Yeah. Alright.”

He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, “What should I play? Maybe this?”

His fingers strum a few chords that you don’t recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.

You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, “Whatever crosses your mind first.”

He doesn’t answer, handling the instrument. He’s focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, “This should do,” and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what he’s chosen.

Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.

“Which one’s this?” Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung who’s barely alive at this point. The music probably doesn’t help.

But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. There’s a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkook’s table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.

And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, “Dance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very… calm version of it.”

Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, “The Civil Wars. Covered it.”

“Right.”

The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.

Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the wedding…

You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkook’s elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isn’t already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.

Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until he’s reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didn’t know just yet.

Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. You’re filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.

Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, “And how did that feel?”

“Surprisingly…” Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. “Comforting.”

“Isn’t that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?”

It’s how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.

The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.

Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when he—

“You play?” Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.

Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.

“How do you know?” you wonder.

“You talk like you do.”

“I didn’t want to give any spoilers,” Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, “so I didn’t say anything. But I’ve heard her play.”

“Ah,” you voice, “not often. Was I any good?”

“As much as I remember.”

Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.

So you grab it for the moment, explaining, “I… I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.” You mimic Yoongi’s gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. “Always enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.”

“Damn…” Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, “You’re alive, too!”

“Then you should definitely play something,” Eun says.

“You’re all okay with that?”

“Please,” Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, “you don’t need our permission at all.”

So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you don’t need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongi’s piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.

You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. They’re better singers. You’re alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

You don’t know why you chose this song. You don’t know why you didn’t settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.

Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didn’t realise were shut.

You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.

Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but Jungkook…

Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.

If you could guess, you’d say he’s looking at you like… like he’d die for you.

Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.

He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if he’s dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadn’t played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably would’ve long failed.

You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.

You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.

You never knew you could.

Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, you’ve grown fond of his little gestures. You didn’t think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.

A couple months ago, you would’ve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.

But you’re not. Instead, you’re trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, “So I take it, it was good?”

“Good?!” Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.

“You keep surprising me, angel,” Jungkook admits, “I don’t know what to do with this anymore.”

“With what?”

He’s close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.

Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, “You chose the right song, didn’t you?”

Yeah. A little dose of Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesn’t it?

You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.

Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.

And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkook’s shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.

Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You don’t know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.

It’s how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.

Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one you’ve been yearning for your entire life.

The end of the night begins with an argument.

Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They don’t struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkook’s leg as it dangles off the upper bed.

“I’m going to come up,” you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. “And I will be so annoying.”

“Is that news?” he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.

“Babe. I called shots on the upper bunk.”

“You did not.”

“It’s a lot more fun up there. And I thought you’d like sleeping down there.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, “What made you think that?”

Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasn’t too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, “You had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.”

“That’s… an impeccable argument. I can’t even respond to it.”

The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading won’t work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.

“Don’t you fart, though,” you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. It’s okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, it’s worse than not having him beside you at all.

Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.

“We were lucky with the weather. I bet it’s raining back at home.”

Oh… have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?

Jungkook answers, “Closer to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.”

Then, Yoongi, “Hopefully it’s as nice at the beach, too.”

“It better be,” Jimin chimes in, “I’ve been looking forward to our game for ages. I’ll play in the rain if need be.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. You’ve been thinking about the game just as much — chaos with a big fat portion of craze. “We wouldn’t even be able to get up if it rained.”

“We’d get nowhere,” Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.

“That’s what. Doesn’t it sound fun? Wouldn’t matter anyway… the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?” Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.

And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesn’t, Jungkook challenges, “Your competitive side means nothing if you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Dude. Be careful. There’ll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,” Jimin says.

“True, true,” you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, “Now, that, I wanna see.”

The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.

And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, “Do we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.”

But your suggestion proves redundant — because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that you’ve fallen asleep.

You can’t stay silent for this long; and you’re not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, “I drove all day and still she falls asleep first.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until they’ve fallen asleep, too.

Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. There’s a strange yearning in his chest that he’s well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And… is this too much?

The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?

You’ve really done a number on him.

The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesn’t know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.

“Man…” Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.

Sleep isn’t an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks you��re off again, he hears a couple seconds later—

“Kook?”

No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like… relief.

“Baby,” he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you — or the darkness below. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other beds…”

“Right? Me too.” He reaches out for you, hoping you’ll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. “And… I miss you here.”

You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, “Isn’t it ridiculous? How we can’t go a night like this.”

“Hmm…”

“I miss you, too.”

Patience is a virtue he hasn’t learned yet when it comes to you.

He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your mother’s thoughts. All possible.

But you… distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night is…

Pretty damn shit.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, “Huh?” as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.

For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once he’s touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what he’s trying to do.

Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, “Uhm, I… Baby, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

But you don’t seem to have much of a say in this matter — because you’re soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until you’re nearly pressed against the wall.

He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little — close to rolling off the mattress? — and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.

Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, “You were saying?”

“I… I was saying you feel so warm.”

“Mmmh,” he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, “you are, too.”

“Do I feel better than your bed up there?”

“A lot better.” His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. “Makes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, “Am exhausted. I’ll fall asleep fast. Especially like this…”

“Oh… glad to be of service then.”

You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.

The two of you have gotten used to this. It’s said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess that’s what you are for each other.

Even when you’re not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.

Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds you—

“You wanted the upper bunk bed,” you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.

He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.

“Shut up,” he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. “Okay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?”

You smile. You’re not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.

“I think I do…” you admit. “I think I figured it out.”

Because.

Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you weren’t nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.

And that’s when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!

You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.

Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,” he says.

“There’s a raili—”

“Still. One never knows with you. In any case… you’re not getting hurt on vacation, okay?”

You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but it’s insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.

Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, “Is that right? We’ll see about that once we play the game.”

You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, “I really mean so much to you.”

“Mhm… So very much.”

It’s too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know he’s blended out the world when you look up at him. You know he’s staring back quietly.

You know what he’s feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.

Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouette’s mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesn’t rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving.

He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe that’s why the moment feels so intimate.

Because there’s no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.

As he moves back again, he doesn’t talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Then—

He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, “Love me?”

Your heart.

This treacherous thing — cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. You’re constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, “Please love me, too.”

Doesn’t he know how easy that is? Doesn’t he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That he’s not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesn’t need to show anyone that he’s just that.

“No need to beg,” you tell him, “you’ll never need to beg.”

Another beat of silence. He’s smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?

Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what it’s like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.

You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, “You know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. It’s not that tight—”

“In theory. But we wouldn’t sleep well, right?” he ponders.

Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when you’re not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.

Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.

So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.

He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesn’t do this, he’ll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.

Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.

DAY 2

The air is much colder up here than you thought.

You can’t recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your country’s geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didn’t enjoy heights, but depths.

You knew that early on.

Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. You’re glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.

But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, “Damn it.”

Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, “Come on, no pauses now! We finally made it.”

That you did. No turning back. You’ve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.

You’re relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at.

Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They don’t take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.

Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t come with you. Or rather, they’ll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprentice’s time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.

Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him — partly to not leave him alone, and partly because he’s always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.

Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.

Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, “Angel, as much as I want you here, I won’t be able to talk to you anyway. I’ll be there in no time.”

So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, there’s another higher, snow-capped mountain.

And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.

Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess that’s where your serenity ends.

Because the bridge isn’t as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but… holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say don’t look down in moments like these, but you can’t help, and God, there’s an immeasurable distance between you and the ground and—

It’s not immeasurable. No, you’re an idiot. But you still can’t help it; stare down, gulp.

You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they… how do they…

The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.

Okay… okay.

You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before you—

Scream.

The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the “See?” over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and you’re uncertain who the fingers belong to, but you’re still ready to fight.

The voice isn’t; the startled gasp reveals as much.

You turn, only to find your boyfriend’s eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, “Sorry! Sorry, baby.”

“Kook! Timing,” you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once you’ve grasped the reality enough.

“Angel…” he starts, looking into the hell below. “Are you scared of heights?”

No time to be sarcastic; you don’t have the breath to. So you admit, “A little.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.”

His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook promises, “you can go ahead if you want.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung hums; doesn’t sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. “You need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.”

Uhh…

“Is that a good idea?” you mumble.

“It could be.”

Could be? And if it isn’t?

Then again. You’re here for a reason. You’d be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that it’s up to you.

So you decide, “No, I’ll go. I came here for this, and I don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, “See? That’s my girl!”

It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. They’re determined to take care of you, constantly checking if you’re okay. And it works at first. But.

The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that you’re not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.

If one falls, all of you do — which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isn’t quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyung’s hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkook’s grip.

“Go ahead,” your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. “It’s okay.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” he vows before walking on.

Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, “Imagine it’s the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think it’s… uh… thirty more till the end.”

You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, “Are you kidding… Looks like a hundred.”

He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.

So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, “Forty-five! I say forty-five steps.”

And then, you count together. You’re amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, “Should know better than to compete with a munchkin.”

You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, “This is actually fun,” not noticing that he’s barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.

“What a journey, huh?” Jungkook praises, patting your back. “I’m proud of you. It’ll only get easier from here.”

And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.

Okay, you can do this much, at least.

In fact, you’re the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops — the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.

Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, “I know, right?”

Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.

Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.

You’re above the foggy clouds.

In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.

And the forests — they’re thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds you’ve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?

Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.

The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isn’t at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.

This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.

The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, you’ll be heading back down. But you don’t feel any hurry. Nothing matters.

“This…” you finally whisper as you catch yourself, “makes me wanna cry.”

You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkook’s arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, “Then cry. Isn’t that what catharsis is about?”

“It’s just so pretty.”

“It is.”

“Like… is this really our world, Jungkook?” You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. “The same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.”

You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. “There’s so much more.”

“There is, right? A lot more,” he confirms.

“Look at this,” you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, “wherever there aren’t people to fuck things up, there’s peace like this.” You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you can’t say. “What if we became nomads?”

His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.

He concludes, “I think you’ll really like it back home.” You’re confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. “There are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.”

“…Do you already have something in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. “I just won’t tell you yet.”

“Ha. I wouldn’t want you to.”

You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe you’ve transcended this realm and entered another.

But as you hear everyone else’s voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember you’re still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds you…

You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, “What did Namjoon want?”

“Oh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.”

“Sounded super urgent, though.”

“I mean, it kinda was,” he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, “he needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes and—”

“Wait. You’re still sticking to your own style, though, right?”

His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.

Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, there’s somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.

You.

You’re who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.

“Of course, angel,” he says, “I think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.”

“Good. You’re the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.” His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, “I still don’t know what you’re painting.”

“I will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because you’re my muse. My girl.”

He must think that this doesn’t wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didn’t know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there can’t be this many emotions anyway, right?

If you didn’t feel it with your own heart, you wouldn’t believe it…

“But…” you begin, “you’ll let me see those that I don’t inspire, right?”

“Of course. Always.”

Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, “This really is pretty.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesn’t just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course it’s gorgeous. Of course, your world’s unique.

Of course, it’s home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.

There’s no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But he’s seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What he’s never been used to is people like you.

Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away because the right response doesn’t come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voices—

“I love you, angel.”

Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.”

You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so you’re briefly displeased but not surprised when you’re pulled out of your daydream.

Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. You’re soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.

Mouthing something.

And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.

If he could be honest… whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. You’re enough, too — a force of nature, too.

He doesn’t need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.

The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. You’re moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.

Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and you’ll wait at the exit.

Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you don’t fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.

The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you don’t hear it when Eun says, “You’re both glued to each other, huh?”

Jungkook’s wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, “Is that… bad? Too much?”

“Well, definitely much,” Eun laughs, “but very sweet, too. By all means, don’t change.”

“Ah. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.”

Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that she’s ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, “Oh? Which one’s that?”

“Just confirms that I have your blessings.”

Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didn’t anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.

“My blessings?” she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, “Are you joking?”

Which is presumably why Jungkook’s thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, “Well… yeah?”

“Okay. And what if I didn’t give them to you?”

She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, “Uhm…”

“I’m just messing with you,” she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. “But also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didn’t bless you two? Or stop loving her?”

Jungkook’s surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. There’s no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.

He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, “No.”

“Exactly,” Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, “you don’t need my blessings. If you’re sure about her, you don’t need anyone’s. I’ll trust the process.”

That’s it.

No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didn’t? No. Not a trace of doubt.

Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.

Not if everything he’s still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft I’ve been thinking of you all this time.

“But,” Eun continues; Jungkook’s ears perk up, “if you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but I’ve never seen a cuter couple.”

“Ah. Even cuter than you and Tae?”

“Much. We’re not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but… you’re straight up sugar. Makes me sick.”

Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. “Well, she makes up most of that sweetness.”

“Maybe. God,” Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, “Sometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.”

“The most precious, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesn’t fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. You’re deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.

No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.

He’s here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.

And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, “I’ve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?”

No, it doesn’t. In fact, Eun’s very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but he’s made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.

“It sounds just right,” he says.

“I don’t know if you already know, but you won’t meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend… it’s true.” She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isn’t a mawkish one. “So it’s a big deal to say I want you close to her.”

Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; there’s a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eun’s gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupid’s arrows in your back until you meet their attention.

Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.

And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but it’s as if he hears it from where you stand.

Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurrates—

“Thank you, Eun.”

“Here you are.”

Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why you’re so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.

You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. They’re not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.

Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasn’t the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe he’s sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.

You flash him a smile from where you’re floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.

Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.”

“Yeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.” He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, “Hey, do you need a moment to yourself?”

Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if he’s intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, “What?”

“Just. I know there’s been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.” His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. “My battery almost ran out, too.”

Oh. Oh…

If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldn’t. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybody’s ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.

You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you can’t be there for them, it’s something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.

Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.

Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, “Oh, no. I actually knew you’d find me here. Hoped for it.”

“Is that right?” he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.

You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. It’s outrageously insane, how he’s perched there like he’s allowed to. As if it doesn’t clearly state in your book that it’s illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.

“It’s been a while since we were alone,” you tell him, “feels like we didn’t have many moments to ourselves.”

“Then, this is convenient, isn’t it? An empty pool in the evening. Very cliché.”

You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, “Others are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. We’re the only crazy ones here.”

“It’s warm enough, though,” he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point — there’s something funny about it. “I bet it’s wet and grey back home.” A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.

Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, “A lot! It’ll be a long day, we’ll be exhausted, but… got a feeling it’ll be worth it all.”

“Yeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,” he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. “My childhood bedroom is cosy.”

“I’d hope so. We won’t be leaving it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, “Of course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.”

“Except for the wedding… sure,” you repeat, as if reluctantly.

As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.

The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.

There’s a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, it’s you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?

But he doesn’t say any of it — don’t you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head, however, stating, “Not yet. Or… maybe a little. You can help me warm up?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldn’t mind if he…

“Isn’t this another cliché?” he asks.

“How so?”

“You’ll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. You’re a brat,” he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. “No… you’ll pull me in.”

“What? I won’t.”

“How do I know that, though?”

“I mean, technically, you don’t, and yes, I realise that doesn’t help,” you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, “but, you did just shower. I wouldn’t want you to waste more time showering afterwards.”

He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows — the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, “I don’t trust you this once, but…”

And that’s where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.

The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain — a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.

The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you don’t belong into a utopian world like this. As if you’re from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.

Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself until—

The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.

“Unfair,” you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.

You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, “My pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?” twice, then thrice and then closes in again.

Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.

Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.

Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender — you can’t let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire and—

“Fu—”

The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.

He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.

You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He can’t help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, “Angel, you’re— you brat." Another cough. "You’re too much.”

And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but he’s faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.

The image makes you choke.

How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.

Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.

Fuck, he’s broad. And fuck, he’s coming right for you.

You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but he’s a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, “Talking about clichés, baby, huh?”

As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, “Well… there’s a reason why they’re clichés.”

“Not wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.”

“You’re saying it sounds like a bad idea?” you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, “What?” before you clarify, “Showering with me?”

“Nah. Stop planting this thought in my head,” he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

You try to stay afloat, but god, you’ll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, “Stop or I swear, we won’t even make it to the damn shower. Understood?”

“Beast—”

“You say as if you don’t know me already. Don’t you know?” he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. “That I get like this with you?”

“I… I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.”

You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.

Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. It’s hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.

He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesn’t tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.

You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when you’re up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, “Come on.”

And once you see him again clearly, he’s already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.

You follow slowly, stroking for a moment — but it doesn’t take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.

And in front of him, a lake you couldn’t see from the other side of the pool.

Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther… burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.

His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you don’t move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.

As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, “Come, baby.”

And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.

He says, “One could almost forget that we’re leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.”

Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight — an exception at this hostel — to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, you’ll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.

You’ll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel — no hostel this time — until the day after tomorrow.

“Yeah. Just a bit more,” you say, sighing before you let him know, “By the way… I do feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good,” he says, although you don’t miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, “anything for you to not get sick.” He nudges your elbow with his. “Not before the big day.”

No, not the big day. If anything, you’re even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous — oh, so nervous. You don’t think you’ll feel any different until the day rolls around.

What will happen at the wedding? What’s the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.

Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?

No. You don’t think it’ll make you fall for him harder — because you don’t need a wedding for that.

A moment like this suffices.

Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, “Hey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friend’s slip-up. He smirks, and then says, “Well, you’ll see at the wedding, right?”

“…Jungkook,” you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you don’t fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, “Did you get me something?”

But he’s unfazed — a good actor. “Wait up,” he says, “if you’ve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! You’re too smart for me.”

“C’mon, as if.” You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. “Wait. Oh.”

He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook… are you proposing?”

And that’s when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, “I did not expect that. But sure, that’s what it is.”

“Well, that cancels it out.”

“Oh, baby…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. “You’re so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.”

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

They never cease. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this word. You don’t think there’s a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love — his love — for you.

Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.

Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.

Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, “Let’s go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?”

DAY 3

You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because there’s nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order.

You won’t empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; you’ll only be here for another night anyway.

But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, there’s no chance in hell you’re having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.

Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. It’s only 8 o’clock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.

But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that today’s schedule doesn’t begin before noon.

For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each other’s company, brief kisses here, modest touches there — until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.

Albeit, you’re distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.

You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.

And… there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.

Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.

You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is — whenever he spies the lavender dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.

He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, “Hey!”

But he’s still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.

You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that he’d have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.

His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand — when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you can’t wait to wear it.

Apparently, he can’t either.

Because he declares, “You’re gonna be so fucking pretty in this.”

“You told me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so. My god, I’ll need to keep an eye on you all night!”

You laugh. “Ah? Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, “Some of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again… it’s you.”

“Oh, oh,” you voice, tutting, “and the girls? Are some of them single, too?”

“Well, I guess so, but—”

“Nothing but. I’ve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,” you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. “No, you’re sticking by my side that night, Jeon.”

You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, “No running away with other chicks.”

“As if, you idiot,” he jests, “even if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didn’t realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else — I’d still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.”

You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; you’re sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, “Oh my god. I so want to witness that one day. I’m gonna try to get there.”

“I believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,” he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, “Is this part of your attire?”

“Well, now you ruined a perfect surprise.”

“What! I don’t think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It won’t be any less than you expect.”

You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.

You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until he’s folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.

Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when you’re reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.

You mutter, “Gonna have to ask your mom if she’s okay with me using your washing machine.”

“She will be, for sure.”

“I’ll even hang them to dry myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! Shit, Jungkook. I’m so excited!” you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. “I wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I can’t wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool and—” You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, “What?”

“Nothing, just…”

He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until you’re between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.

Then, he speaks again, “Can you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.”

He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you don’t think you fare any better.

So you’re walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, “Do you ever get enough?”

“Hmm… Do I look like I do?"

“I mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?” you inquire, but he’s already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. “Your eyes look just like they did yesterday.”

“Ah, really?” A featherlight kiss on your neck. “So I won’t have my wish granted?”

“You… You’re stupid,” is all you say before you prove him wrong — diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.

You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.

And before you know it, you’re moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering it’s a string, not even that matters.

He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in — trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.

But when he realises you’re pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, “Thought so. That’s,” you touch his hand over your ass, “what your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?”

“Sorry,” he mutters with a grin — but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, “I… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to though. I’m okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.”

Oh, the way he touches your heart…

You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, “Oh, baby…”

“No, seriously. Whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

“I’m… I’m comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you… I’ll be honest with you.”

He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, “Do you feel like you can?”

But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, “Always.” Swift pause. “Kook, I— I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but… I won’t. As long as you’re willing to stay, I will, too.”

“I will. I promise. And I’ll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose… okay?”

Hmm… you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know you’re here despite all the despites.

But if you need to, you’ll keep dispeling his fears all your life.

So you say, “I know. I know.” Brushing through his hair. “And I want this.”

“It won’t hurt? We just did last night—”

“If it does, we can stop. I always want you. Besides…” You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. “I can’t blueball you.”

Jungkook smirks in the way only he’s able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, “Brat, acting like it’d be the first time.”

“You’re just… so hard already. Can’t do this to you. Or me. Not today.”

“Babe… you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isn’t even its final state, you know?”

“Of course I know.”

Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it can’t get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.

He’s in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.

Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.

His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.

And a second later, out of the blue, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.

“You’re so brave,” he deduces, “like you forgot yesterday.”

“I could never. Maybe… maybe I’m just trying to repeat it.”

“Oh… smart, smart. If that’s your wish.”

Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.

You’re already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath… you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.

And he’s well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, “Kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I wanna see you wind.”

“Why…? You’re so mean—”

“Just now. Come on. Look at me.”

You do. You’re met with a hungry beast who’s yearning for you, simultaneously so soft — easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.

He might be craving you, but he’s not stupid; he’s cautious. Gauging your reaction.

This man… this man…

“Want me to push it in?” Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didn’t expect the inquiry this soon, but you’re not opposed to it at all.

You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, “Please.”

“Please, yeah?” he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance — but then, he chuckles. “Baby. Take care of yourself when I can’t. I can’t fucking think, you know? But even I know you’re not ready yet.”

“I…”

“Just a bit more, okay?” He slaps your pussy; you wince. “Wanna get up and undress?”

“No,” you instantly blurt, “want you like this. Right now. I don’t care about the shirt.”

“Right… so that’s how it is.”

He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.

Huh.

“Is this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didn’t you?” he gathers.

You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you. Stealing my clothes… and my perfumes,” he recollects, his voice going up and down. He’s referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. “What’s next? My heart?”

Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he can’t really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.

But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.

The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.

There’s never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, it’s him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, “Oh? Oh, oh…”

Then again, maybe that’s all that’s necessary to set the mood further; he doesn’t elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques he’s mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.

Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. It’s obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time — hence, the bruises.

Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe he’ll feast on you enough.

Because he’s thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, “Maybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.”

“…M-maybe.”

“Wish we’d brought the sex toys. Man, I want to…” He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artist’s hand; and you can’t help but imagine it’s the vibrator he often handles. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Don’t… do this to me.”

A smug chuckle. “Sorry, bae.”

Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, he’s teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, he’s prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, he’d revel in your whines.

Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.

“Jungkook…” you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, “We’d never get t-to breakfast then.”

“So? I’d still be having mine.”

Thought so.

“But…” you argue, no clue why at all. “They’d be waiting.”

“I think they’re just as bad as we are. C’mon.”

You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.

Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.

And you want to close your legs but you can’t.

The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, “Stop… I can’t hear you like this,” before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, “What if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?”

His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, “I… don’t know yet.”

“Fine. There’s time.”

There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, he’s uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.

Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until he’s grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until he’s kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.

He’s chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. You’re rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.

Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.

And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks he’s dying and being reborn.

“I’m dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,” he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because you’re right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.

“Glad to hear.”

Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and he’ll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.

He’s gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the building—

“Careful now,” he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours don’t need to—

Fuck.

Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.

Isn’t it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, “I don’t care who hears.”

Okay. Okay. Then… you’ll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that he’s loving it. He asks, “Can I go farther in?”

“Thought you’d never ask…” Yet, it doesn’t happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much he’s enjoying your helplessness. You say, “You are mean.”

“Mhm… especially to you, right?”

“Especially to me,” you laugh. “You say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, won’t you?”

“Ohhhh no.” He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if you’ve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. “You will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.”

He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and then— bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.

And then, he’s already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesn’t prolong at all.

Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, “Am craving this mouth… Get up.”

You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.

He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesn’t wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.

And you’re careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, that’s when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.

You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, “What do you want me to do?”

You’re not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.

But you want to submit today; that’s the mood you perceived. That’s what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.

And he notices the shift. “My god, would you look at that,” he drags, hardly believing that you’re looking at him like this. “Bed. Lean over it.”

You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress.

He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it — the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.

His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.

You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because he’s soon determined to help — or to rile you up further, you can’t say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.

A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until it’s glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.

As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, “You wanna know, huh?”

“I…”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, “What’s that like? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay… I’m so okay—”

“And so pretty like this. You’re always… so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I want to see you.”

“How did I…”

“Kook—”

“I know. I know you want to,” he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you don’t complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, “I know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?”

How couldn’t you if he asks so nicely, right?

Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. It’s high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesn’t go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.

Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that you’re not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each other’s thirst?

Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.

Repeats each time just as he is now, “How did I end up with you?” Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that you’re more than he’ll ever deserve. He adds, “You want me to prove it to you?”

Oh…

That’s what he—

This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.

Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until you’re on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; it’s easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like you’re the only star in the vast, expanding universe.

The only source of light in this darkened room.

“Hey,” he calls, even though you’re already looking at him.

He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though it’s impossible in a setting like this — maybe that’s what he means when he says you reside in him.

Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.

“I love you,” he then proclaims, “and I’ll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.”

“I… I want you to…”

“Good. Good, baby. You know I’ll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. I’ll do anything for you.”

You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you don’t know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.

So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you don’t need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.

You understand you’re close when he pleads, “Can you touch yourself? Please?”

And it helps — considering that you’re already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.

Nothing, but bliss bliss bliss…

Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, “What happened?”

But the question is redundant — because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.

You ruined the sheets. You’ll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.

“You squirted all over my dick,” Jungkook still clarifies.

“I’m sorry…”

“What? No. It looks… it feels so…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.

He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesn’t; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.

Somehow, you’re even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again — it’s fine, right? You’re probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.

Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesn’t want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.

His next question, however, is an entirely different one, “Do you believe me now?”

You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend won’t let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, he’ll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.

You promise, “I always will. From anyone in this world, I’ll believe it the most from you.”

“My baby,” he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, “Okay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and they’ll knock.”

“Oh… uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?”

“…Great idea.”

Only, the shower isn’t as quick as you anticipated — the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, they’ve just started, though.

Yoongi is the first to speak after you’ve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, “You guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, we just…” You shrug. “We were organising our suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. “Forgot the time.”

Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, you’re not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.

No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know he’s about to say something bold before he actually does—

“Oh, you fucked… You had the time to?!”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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the-mazed-magic-shop · 2 years ago

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I am such a sucker for everything yoonmin and this was just SO FREAKING CUTE!!!! Like Yoongi being mesmerised by Jimin's smile and crescent eyes, and "soft and sharp features" - that's so canon Yoongi (┬┬﹏┬┬) I love it!

Ghost Friend

Yoongi's spirit has stayed in his dilapidating home for decades. One day, Jimin and his friends Taehyung and Jungkook decide to visit the property, and Jimin makes a ghost friend.

Or, the one where Jimin is totally Jean Grey.

👻 Yoongi x Jimin (platonic)

👻 word count: 1.8k

👻 friends who encounter a ghost, haunting au, crack treated seriously, slight hurt/comfort, appropriate for all audiences

👻 warnings: uhhh...honestly, none? Yoongi is a ghost (which implies that he is dead!) but otherwise, this is a very chill, cute little Halloweenie fic. it is not in the slightest bit scary! Yoongi is lonely, and there is a positive ending. i guess my sense of humor could count as a warning!!!

👻 note: since it's a drabble, the descriptions are not as vivid as usual. it's mostly ~vibes~.

👻 request by @park-jimin-isnt-real for my Harrowing Halloween event! thank you so much for requesting!!! 🍉💜 i feel like you wanted it to be a little more of a crack fic but i managed to make it so serious haha. 🤪

👻 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

👻 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

“Hey, Chim, think fast!”

The one who reacts to the nickname Chim – who Yoongi surmises is actually named Jimin – glances up in time for an inflatable ball to travel through Yoongi's spectral form and pummel Jimin in the side of the face. The two men Jimin trespasses with stand about ten feet away, and the buffer of the two – who Yoongi thinks is named Jeongguk – is doubled over laughing, dark hair falling in his face.

The one Yoongi thinks is named Jimin is understandably annoyed, picking up the ball, which is painted like a basketball but much smaller, inspecting it before throwing it back with nowhere near as much strength. It nearly hits the one who might be named Taehyung, and falls to the floor, rolling away.

Jimin complains, “Don’t throw haunted toys at me, you fucking creeps,” sounding exasperated.

The toy isn’t haunted, nor does it belong to Yoongi, but he is unwilling to correct them. He thinks some children brought it to the property long ago, before the house had become somewhat of a local legend, and left it behind. Sometime in the early 2000s, he thinks, though he cannot be sure.

“This place isn’t really haunted,” the one who might be named Taehyung says in a low, somewhat whiny voice. He kicks at debris that has fallen from the dilapidated ceiling with a frown.

Of course, this place is haunted. Yoongi standing in the center of their friend group proves as much. Only Yoongi has not made his presence known, just yet.

Although it is somewhat disrespectful the way people always treat his house like a heap of trash, Yoongi rather likes it when folks come to visit. Being a ghost can get quite lonely, especially because Yoongi hesitates to let anyone really perceive him.

He thinks he would like to let Jimin perceive him. Jimin, with his pretty, pouty lips that he nibbles nervously, causing them to redden and become even more pouty. Jimin, with his short ash-brown hair and stunning blend of sharp and soft features, depending on which angle he stands at. There is something gentle and understanding in Jimin's wide, dark eyes that Yoongi wishes he could get lost in.

If only he were still alive.

"Jeongguk," Yoongi hears Taehyung say quietly, leaning in close and pointing to another discarded ball. This one is larger and red, and its surface collects dust better than the inflatable one. "You should throw this at him when his back is turned."

Jeongguk scoffs and shakes his head, muttering, "You are so childish, Tae," despite walking over to the red ball and picking it up anyway. He very quietly tosses the ball into the air and catches it while Jimin meanders in the opposite direction, distracted by some graffiti on Yoongi's busted living room wall.

"Hey, Chim!" Jeongguk shouts.

Yoongi, who has begun slowly gravitating toward Jimin, watches as Jimin sighs and turns, shouting, "What, now?"

Jeongguk chucks the ball, and Jimin recoils this time, lifting his hand in order to deflect it. Except, without thinking, Yoongi reaches up and stops the ball in mid-air. Then, realizing his mistake, he quickly drops it.

If Yoongi could breathe, he would be holding his breath. He feels anxious as his gaze moves between Jimin and his curious friends, whose expressions are frozen with shock. Jimin's hand had lifted just in time for the ball, but Yoongi managed to exert just enough of his spiritual energy to stop it.

"Holy shit!" Jeongguk shouts, breaking the tense silence.

Jimin's hand still hovers in the air, and he glances at it curiously. "What…just happened?" he asks.

"You're fucking Magneto!" Jeongguk shouts. "That's what happened."

Taehyung sighs, stepping closer and picking up the red ball, which had rolled in the direction of his feet. "Magneto can only control metal, Jeongguk. Like a magnet…it's in his name."

Jeongguk shakes his head, mind clearly working on overdrive. "Right, right, right," he mutters under his breath, seemingly searching somewhat frantically for something other than busted concrete and dust to throw at his friend next. "You're like…Jean Grey then."

As Jimin finally begins to lower his hand, the stunned expression remains on his face, and he begins to glance around at eye level as if he suspects there may have been some kind of invisible force that helped him. If Yoongi had a heart, it would sink as Jimin looks right at him – right through him. His eyes are sad and curious, and Yoongi longs so badly to just reach out and touch him.

"You have to do it again!" Jeongguk exclaims.

"Can you do it again?" Taehyung softly asks.

"I…" Jimin mutters, brows knitting as he shakes his head. "No, I—I don't know what happened, but I am definitely not—"

"Think fast!" Taehyung shouts, causing both Jimin and Yoongi to sigh. Jimin reaches his hand up and, without giving it another thought, Yoongi also reaches his hand out, stopping the ball right in front of Jimin's open palm.

This time, when Jimin's eyes search the air right where Yoongi stands, Yoongi fumbles and drops the ball. He had meant to hold it up as a show to Jimin's friends, but even Jimin's unknowingly undivided attention makes him panic. If Yoongi had a heart, it would be going wild right now.

"How the fuck…" Jeongguk mutters, at the same time Jimin – whose eyes have not left the space Yoongi occupies – mutters, "Who the fuck…"

"Pick it back up," Taehyung insists. "With no hands."

"I can't—" Jimin begins but Jeongguk whines, "Just try!"

Jimin sighs and squats in front of the ball, which has been rolled over to Jimin's feet by one of his friends. Yoongi also squats.

All is quiet as Jimin holds his hand out in front of the red ball. He mutters, "This is so stupid," under his breath while chewing on the inside of his mouth. Yoongi wonders if that is a nervous tick of his – wonders what other nervous ticks he may have.

Jimin knits his brow and Yoongi snaps back to what he is meant to focus on: the ball. He reaches out and slowly begins to lift the red ball with both hands, ever so slightly. Jimin gasps softly while his friends begin to shout.

"How—" Jimin mutters as his eyes lift to Yoongi again and glance around the space, searching.

"This is crazy!" Jeongguk shouts.

"How did we never know you could do this?" Taehyung asks.

Jimin clicks his tongue and drops his hands, making Yoongi drop the ball, as well. "I can't do this," Jimin snaps back. "Obviously there is some kind of supernatural force at play."

"There's no such thing as supernatural forces," Jeongguk responds, sounding like an annoyed schoolchild.

This makes Jimin laugh. His eyes become little crescent moons, and Yoongi thinks he has never seen anything so beautiful in his life, nor his afterlife.

"You don't believe in ghosts but you believe in telekinesis?" Jimin argues, amusement shaking through every word. "Even though it was your idea to come through the haunted Min property? Make it make sense!"

Hearing Yoongi's name pass Jimin's lips makes him gasp.

"Pick it up again," Jeongguk insists.

Jimin sighs.

Yoongi smiles.

After a moment of hesitation, Jimin holds his hands out, just as he had done before. The ball only rolled about a foot away when Jimin dropped it, and he leans forward.

Yoongi also leans forward, and when he picks up the ball, Jimin must think twice, because he begins to lower his hands. Before Yoongi has a chance to lower the ball to match Jimin's movement, their energies overlap.

It is so brief and so faint, but Jimin's fingertips fall right into Yoongi's energy, passing through the side of his hand. All of his energy tingles, from his fingertips to his toes, and he drops the ball entirely when he realizes Jimin must have felt something, as well.

This time, when Jimin gazes right in his direction, Yoongi has to fight the urge to materialize on the spot and make his presence known. In the past, when he has been particularly moody about guests in his home, he has materialized just to scare the shit out of them. That is one of the reasons his old home has such a reputation for being haunted, almost a decade later.

Jimin's lips part as if he is about to say something, when Taehyung asks, "Jimin? Are you okay?"

In a blink, Jimin clears his throat and says, "Yeah, sorry. Thought I felt something."

"Okay, well," Jeongguk complains impatiently, "pick it up again."

Jimin sighs but smiles, shaking his head slightly as his gaze passes over Yoongi again and then returns to the ball. He holds his hands out and pretends to concentrate, and Yoongi reaches out and picks up the ball.

A bright flash fills the space, making Yoongi drop the ball while Jimin heavily blinks and frowns, looking up at his friends.

"I got it!" Jeongguk cheers. "Proof that Jimin is Jean Grey!"

"You can hardly tell the ball is even lifted," Taehyung bickers. "From the angle it looks like it could still be on the floor."

While the two of them argue, Jimin continues to search the space. He holds out his hand, palm facing Yoongi, and without giving it any thought, Yoongi returns the gesture by holding his hand up and ever so slightly touching their palms together.

"Heol," Jimin mutters, eyes widening. "I knew it."

The other two continue to bicker while Jimin sits and stares, smile slowly creeping over his face. If Yoongi had a heart, it would be aching. All he wants is to say something back or materialize fully and let Jimin see him. But what kind of a relationship could be had between a human trespasser and a ghost who refuses to leave his own home?

"Jimin-ssi!" Jeongguk shouts, "we have to do it again. I need a better picture."

"We are not taking another picture," Jimin says, rolling his eyes. "I promise you, I am not Jean Grey."

As the three friends argue, Yoongi stays squatted, eyes trailing from Jimin to the ball. He feels a deep, overwhelming sadness that has only compounded in the years since his death. Loneliness. Grief. But he also feels happy. Although he knows it would not be a good idea for Jimin to see him, he thinks that it is okay if he lets Jimin feel him a little more.

"Just do it one more time!" Jeongguk insists.

"No pictures," Jimin responds, to which Jeongguk quickly adds, "My phone is in my pocket!"

Jimin sighs, Yoongi sighs, and they both reach for the ball.

"Are you ready, ghost friend?" Jimin asks so quietly that Yoongi wonders if he may have misheard.

But he knows he has not misheard because Jimin stares right at him – right through him – with a smile. If Yoongi had a heart, it would be soaring.

Ghost friend. Yoongi likes the sound of that.

happy halloweeeen!!! 🎃👻🍂

i hope you enjoy this little drabble! i have a few more on the way. submissions for this event are closed, but i hope to do it again, next year!!!

reblogs and comments keep me writing, and likes make my day bright!!! thank you for reading! i love you!

tag list: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 👻 wanna be tagged in all my works? dm me!

here is the image that jay sent me in the submission request haha:

Ghost Friend is copyright theharrowing 2023. no translations or reposting allowed!

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hamburgerndsprite · 5 months ago

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Sprite's Favourite Fics {Bangtan Fics} Part 6

(Also, all the moodboards are edited by me therefore I request everyone not to repost them as theirs)

[Masterlist]

[OT7]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Our Relationship by champagneher

pairing: bts x foreign!f!reader based on: the members in their own romantic relationships with their significant others, but they've been keeping it a secret. genre: preference, reaction, fluff, established relationship warnings: making out, little suggestive, them being in their element, strong bf vibes, mentions of jealousy.

➺ Seven Kinds Of Love by Jimlingss

Pairing: Bts x reader Words: 7984 Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut Summary: Love - an intense feeling of deep affection.

{SERIES}

➺ 7 Hybrids moved in with me by lillsismarshmallow [ONGOING]

Pairing: Hybrid!Poly!BTS x Fem!Reader Chapters: 19/30 Genre: Hybrids AU, Fluff, Angst, SWF, Caretaker!Reader Description: When the dog hybrid who visits her bakery starts taking extra food Y/N follows it through the alleys to find out why, but what happens when she stumbles upon an empty alley only to find 6 more hybrids and some very familiar pastries?

➺ Diamond Tears and Little Wings by writersrealmbts

Pairing: Poly! BTS x fairy! reader Genre: angst, fluff, idol au, fantasy au Chapters: 7/7 Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

➺ Home by casuallyimagining

Pairing: Hybrid Min Yoongi x Female Reader; Platonic OT7 x Female Reader; Namseok; Jinkook Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff Word Count: 72,245 Chapters: 26/26 [sequel to fix you] Summary: After helping Yoongi get away from his abusive former owner, you’re left to focus on your relationship and how it progresses. That is, until you find six other hybrids who need your help, and their former owner decides he’s going to make your life hell.

[KIM NAMJOON]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Drabble by happy-meo

pairing: namjoon x reader genre: fluff summary: a fluffy oneshot of when reader met namjoon for the first time. [Part of First Meeting Series]

➺ Inside My Mind [M] by jimlingss

➜ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader ➜ Words: 19.2k ➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut, High School!AU ➜ Summary: You're safe in the confines of your mind. Free to think whatever, free to fantasize to your heart's content. And your imagination tends to quite a wild turn when you’re dying from sheer boredom. But when some GUY IN YOUR CLASS CAN FUCKING READ MINDS - YOU'RE NOT SAFE ANYMORE! WHAT THE FUCKSKDKASDFGHJKL—

➺ My only wish by ppersonna

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader ✹ word count- 15.1k OOF ✹ genre- smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst if you squint, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, idiots to lovers, brief mention of YoonMin ✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.

{SERIES}

➺ You set my heart on fire [M] by hayjeon

→ pairing: fireman! namjoon x paramedic! y/n → genre: fluff,smut → chapters: 2/2 → summary: As a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.

➺ Page Turner by bts-reveries

→ pairings: author!namjoon x fangirl!reader → genre: fluff! + maybe a little bit of angst?? → parts: 29/29 → summary: Namjoon and his daughter were inseparable. Despite his busy work schedule, he kept his daughter, Moonji, right by his side. He is an author after all and this meant work was from home and he was able to spend time with Moonji every second he can. After the chapter that included his wife has ended, Namjoon has been stuck on the same chapter of just him and Moonji for almost three years now. Until a new inspiration for his next chapter came to his book signing. But is it too soon for another page of romance?

[KIM SEOKJIN]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Watch and Learn by namfinessed

Pairing: Idol! jin x gf! reader Genre: Fluff, idol au, established relationship Wordcount: 1.3k Synopsis: “ah my dance machine needed a break from their fiery moves.”

➺ Blue Blooded [M] by hobibliophile

Pairing: Prince! Jin x Princess! reader Word Count: 8.6k+ Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage au Summary: You’ve been happily married to Crown Prince Seokjin for months now. Or so it would appear to the public. What only you and the palace staff know your shameful secret: you never consummated your marriage.

➺ Hot Blooded [M] by hobibliophile

Pairing: Prince! Jin x Princess! reader Word Count: 3.4k+ Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage au Summary: As the Crown Princess, you are never seen wearing the same dress twice. Many attribute this to your wealth or your status. If only they knew the reason for your constantly changing wardrobe, was the fact that your husband can never keep from literally ripping your clothes off.

➺ Drabble by happy-meo

pairing: seokjin x reader genre: fluff summary: a fluffy oneshot of when reader met seokjin for the first time. [Part of First Meeting Series]

➺ Christmas Cookies by jjungkookislife

↬ pairing: Jin x f. reader ↬ genre: established relationship au, fluff, smut [18+] ↬ wc: 7.3k ↬ summary: Jin is the eldest of seven (troublesome) brothers who Y/N loves beyond belief, even if the twins and the youngest cause her some trouble. After some reassurance from Y/N, a talk from his parents, and a ring, Jin decides to bake her some special Christmas cookies.

{SERIES}

➺ Burden by neonlights92

Pairing: Mafia! Seokjin x Reader Genre: Arranged Marriage au, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff Parts: 7/7 Synopsis: After the death of his wife during childbirth Kim Seokjin is unable to hold his baby daughter without grief taking control. Just three weeks after the love of his life is taken from him so suddenly, Jin is expected to marry somebody new. You are foolish and have spent your whole life pining after Kim Seokjin from afar, even after he marries your best friend, Seul. But suddenly Seul is gone and you are expected to marry Jin and raise his child. You know your heart is already in it, but what about his?

[MIN YOONGI]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ F*ck Tradition by dancinglikebutterflywings

- Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fiancee!Reader - Word Count: 1,125 - Genre: wedding au - Synopsis: Y/N takes Yoongi with her to go wedding dress shopping because her fiancées opinion is the only one that matters.

➺ Finding Love in a Strip Club by smoljimjim

>Pairing: Yoongi x OC named Siri, strangers to lovers >Genre: sweet love story with the tiniest angst (hardly there) and a happy ending. >Word count: ~8300 >Description: Yoongi was out with his friends one night where they ended up at a strip club. One certain stripper caught his eye and he also caught hers. It was only meant to be one night together... Or so they thought..

➺ To Begin Again by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Makeup Artist!Reader ft. Jin WordCount: 6.6k Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol!AU, Warnings: Reader Experiences Both Domestic and Physical Abuse, Excessive Cursing, Synopsis: A story in which the reader falls in love with Yoongi after he rescues her from the abuse inflicted by her boyfriend. Jin is reader's best friend.

➺ A Tiger's Judgement by borathae

Pairing: Warrior!Yoongi x Princess!Reader Genre: Fantasy, e2l!AU, Smut Wordcount: 21.7k Summary: “Yoongi was a warrior in the Queen’s army, brave and loyal to his duties even if that meant protecting Her daughter, who can’t stand his presence in the slightest and who more often than not uses him as her way of taking out her anger. As one fateful night forces them to survive together, they soon need to learn how to live with each other.”

➺ A Tiger's Empire by borathae

Pairing: Warrior!Yoongi x Queen!Reader Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Smut Wordcount: 13.5k Summary: “Yoongi returns home as the man by your side and has to come to terms with his new role as your ruling partner. It turns out to be quite the difficult task as half of the court still sees him as the unruly warrior with the ugly face. His new Queen and lover however is willing to fight the world for him and She is hellbound to show him and everyone around them just how beautiful he is.”

{SERIES}

➺ Our Time by smoljimjim

>Pairing: JJK x OC // MYG x OC >Genre: angst, fluff, smut, college au, time travel au, happy ending >Parts: 10/10 >Description: Siri and Jungkook have been together for 5 years, married for 3 of them. They've hit a rough patch. A really bad rough patch. Something in Jungkook has changed. Arguments arise and he wishes they weren't together. Something happens and his wish comes true. He wakes up to find he's gone back in time to the day he met Siri. What happens when he decides to change his future and not make that connection with her? What if someone else makes a connection with her instead?

➺ Fix You by casuallyimagining

Pairing: Hybrid!Min Yoongi x female! reader Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 36,863 Parts: 13/13 + [sequel- Home]

[JUNG HOSEOK]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Sun & Moon by happy-meo

pairing: hoseok x reader genre: fluff summary: a fluffy oneshot of when reader met hoseok for the first time. [Part of First Meeting Series]

➺ Hug Me by happy-meo

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: angst, some fluff Summary: You and Hoseok were married, but the married life you thought you would be living is nonexistent now. You two were like strangers living in the same house. You knew his heart was no longer yours, but you still loved him. When the end of your marriage was near, you made him promise to stay with you for just one more month. One month was all you needed to finally let him go.

➺ Forgive Me by happy-meo

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader, Hoseok x his daughter Genre: angst Summary: How can one gain forgiveness from someone who is no longer in a position to give it? How can one be forgiven if they refuse to forgive themselves? How can one move forward to the future... if the past was so much better?

➺ Potions and Poisons by jjungkookislife

ღ pairing: warlock!hoseok x witch!reader ღ genre: marriage au, magic au, smut [18+] ღ wc: 2.8k ღ summary: Reviving your memories last Hallows Eve was just the beginning for you and your warlock husband. You’ve quite settled in nicely to your life as his wife and even found a town where you won’t have to fear for your lives. Everything just seems to be falling into place while you simmer in marital bliss. However, your magic still needs some fine tuning...

{SERIES}

➺ Flatmates by taleasnewastime

Pairing: Hoseok x reader Genre: Fluff, angst. chapters: 2/2 Summary: You need to find a spare room after deciding to move out of your flat that you share with your best friend and her boyfriend. Stumbling upon an advert for a room that seems almost too good to be true, you decide for once to not over think and go for it. But who is the mystery flatmate you are now living with that you hardly see?

➺ One night light by bts-reveries

→ pairings: choreographer!hoseok x singlemom!reader → genre: fluff! + maybe a little bit of angst?? → parts: 29/29 → summary: Hoseok has been living his very own version of a perfect life. Unlike some of his best friends, this doesn’t include a happy marriage, adorable kids, or even a stable relationship. All he would ever need was music, dancing, and of course, the parties. Now what happens when he gets a wake up call from reality when the door rings approximately six years after his last one night stand?

[PARK JIMIN]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Labor of Love by Yandere-society

pairing: Jimin x reader genre: yandere au, this contains extremely graphic depictions of self-harm and mentions of suicide word count: 1.7k synopsis: "You didn’t consider your absence would affect Jimin so profoundly— to the point where he thought suicide was the only way to cope."

➺ Sweet Love by spideyjimin

⏤ pairing: coffee shop owner!Jimin x female reader ⏤ genre: parents au, exes to lovers, fluff, and smut ⏤ rating: 18+ ⏤ summary: jimin is the father of your four-year-old daughter, moon, and he’s also your ex. an ex you never considered getting back to, but that wasn’t until you both found yourself being single again. watching a movie with Moon every sunday became the perfect excuse to flirt together discreetly. a flirt that brought back ten years of sweet love. ⏤ words: 14,388

➺ Forever by neonlights92

pairing: Jimin x reader ft. jungkook genre: strangers to lovers, angst, fluff synopsis: In which you fall in love with Park Jimin slowly at first, and then all at once

➺ Petrichor [M] by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Dancer!Jimin x Office Worker!Reader Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Domestic!AU, Established Relationship!AU, Smut, Fluff WordCount: 14.2k Synopsis: “Because every time I smell petrichor I think of you.”

➺ I want to be with you by oddinary4bts

☆pairing: Park Jimin x female reader ☆rating: 18+ ☆genre: strangers (fan) to friends to lovers, idol!au; fluff, some slight angst, smut ☆word count: 32.5k words ☆summary: moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

➺ Savior in a Leather Jacket by bangtanfanfiction

♢ Pairing: Jimin x Reader ♢ Word count: 4.5 k ♢ Genre: Fluff, comedy, College AU ⌲ Description: You’re being dragged out to a club by your best friend only to encounter a guy you’ve been trying to avoid for the past few weeks. Imagine your surprise when your savior in a leather jacket comes swooping in.

{SERIES}

➺ The Bird Cage by untaemedqueen

Pairing: Mafia! Jimin x Reader Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Smut, Blood, Guns, MCD, Mafia!AU, Excessive Cursing, Badass OC Parts: 29/29 + Drabbles Synopsis: “Feisty?” He asks Hyungkwon behind you. “Didn’t really put up a fight, she knew what was coming when she didn’t pay up.” The man hums in amusement. “What do you say, kitten? Wanna come home with me?” You don’t reply dropping your eyes to his shoes. Just be quiet and maybe he will go away. He’s dangerous, you could feel it in your heart and in your brain. The two for once agreed on something. You intertwine your fingers as you press your sweaty palms together. The man looks you over before looking at Hyungkwon and nodding. His hand wraps around your wrist and you look up at him uneasily. “I’m Jimin. You’ll be coming with me.”

➺ Change by neonlights92

Pairing: Mafia! Jimin x Reader Genre: Arranged Marriage au, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff, Smut Parts: 7/7 Synopsis: When the feud between EXO and Bangtan escalates beyond control Bangtan’s leader Kim Taehyung sees only one solution: a marriage of convenience between a member of Bangtan and a member of EXO. Park Jimin was not born into Bangtan but has slowly become an intrinsic part of Taehyung’s trusted inner circle. And that is how Jimin finds himself married to you; EXO leader Xiumin’s little sister. You’re not like any other woman he’s ever met before; fierce, angry, and talented with a switchblade. When you first meet Jimin you’re left angry and disappointed. Except slowly, things change. And despite yourself, you find your heartwarming to the idea of falling in love.

[KIM TAEHYUNG]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ The Hitchhiker by smoljimjim

>Pairing: Taehyung x OC named Siri, strangers to lovers >Genre: light angst, a bit of funny stuff, small part that might make you tear up, happy ending >Word count: ~11,500 >Description: Taehyung is on a very important mission to crash his ex-best friend's wedding after he was uninvited. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side and he found himself resorting to hitchhiking to get to the wedding. That's where he meets Siri, a weird and cheery girl who happily allows Tae to join her on her road trip.

➺ Crazy for You by oddinary4bts

☆pairing: Kim Taehyung x female reader ☆rating: 18+ ☆genre: best friend’s older brother to lovers, a little bit of fake dating trope, idol!au, angst, smut, fluff, snippets of life ☆word count: 46.8k ☆summary: you’ve known Kim Taehyung your whole life. When you meet again at a party hosted by your best friend, alcohol loses your lips and you spill your secrets to your childhood crush. Will Taehyung give in to your desire, or will you be struck by remorse?

➺ Risk Management by chateautae

➵ pairing: investment banker!taehyung x f. reader ➵ genre: non-idol!au, s2l, smut, pwp ➵ rating: 18+ ➵ word count: 9.4k ➵ summary: you have one rule; you don’t date investment bankers, point blank period. but when your best friend invites you to her over-the-top housewarming party to meet her husband’s co-worker, kim taehyung, you don’t expect the night to take a wild turn; and risk bending your own rules.

➺ Loving you is all I know by jiminrings

pairing: taehyung x reader wordcount: 19k glimpse: you feel as if the world would stop revolving without taehyung in it, so you protect him with all your might. taehyung thinks that heaven wouldn't fall even without you in it, so he revokes every fiber of your being. alternatively, you're taehyung's guardian angel and you'd go to hell and back for him — even if you get nothing in return; even if you never receive the love that you give.

➺ Could You (kiss it better) by namfinessed

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: fluff word count: 11.7k summary: “you really don’t have a choice here kim taehyung, you are failing and only passing because i passed you, and the least you can do to improve is get a tutor, i would be grateful if i were you, y/n is one of the best students we have.” or will you ever be able to get over your crush on kim taehyung?

[JEON JUNGKOOK]

{ONE SHOT}

➺ Brown Eyes by numinousher

pairing: idol!jungkook x idol!reader (ft. txt members) genre: fluff, a hint of jealousy (not in a toxic way), possessive jungkook, he’s very “im obsessed with my girlfriend, i will get on my knees” type of boyfriend summary: having time, you finally visit your boyfriend who misses you but not without attracting attention from other groups and dancers.. especially three boys who won’t leave you alone

➺ Welcome to the Heartbreak Show by numinousher

pairing: kind-of-tsundere!jungkook x female!reader genre: college!au, angst, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, “she fell first, he fell harder”, very orange cat gf x black cat bf word count: 28k summary: you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him?

➺ A “Coquette” Misunderstanding by carakook

Pairings: fuckboy!Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader Genre: Romance/Comedy Word count: 5k+ Synopsis: Jungkook has been a self proclaimed fuck boy after his last relationship ended fairly messily… until he met you. Started out as fuck buddies, but he always had a huge crush on you. With time, he realized that he’s actually falling in love with you, and he is itching to make you his girl. He knows being a fuck boy means he has to prove himself when it comes to being serious, so he comes up with the perfect gift to give you when he confesses… only for it to turn into the biggest fucking mess. “Mmm… depends. You gonna let me put a real bow on your dick? Make it all cute and coquette?”

➺ A Jar Full of Us by Jincapableoflove

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader Genre/Tags: best friend! jungkook, best friend! reader, college! au, unrequited love (?), idiots to lovers, best friends to ??? to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut. Word count: 10.2K+ Summary: You never meant for him to find them. Hundred little confessions, folded away, never meant to be read. But now, they’re in his hands. And Jungkook—your best friend—knows everything. But he doesn’t say a word. He just watches you, with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. And this Valentine’s Day, you might just have to find out what.

{SERIES}

➺ Run by neonlights92

Pairing: Mafia! Jungkook x Reader Genre: Arranged Marriage au, Mafia Au, Angst, Fluff, Smut Parts: 7/7 Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed. You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

➺ Our Time by smoljimjim

187 notes · View notes

jeonscatalyst · 3 months ago

Note

Do you know when those narratives of bighit using jikook to cover up taekook started? I remember in my baby army days (early-mid 2017 ish) those narratives were already around but there were no specific ships accused of being used as a "cover up". It was just "taekook interactions were cut from aired footage" or "bighit doesn't allow taekook to be next to each other in official content to protect them". For context i'm a returning fan, i fell out with bangtan back in 2020 because life got too busy, now i'm back and suddenly i see taekookers saying jikook is a cover up for taekook 😅 it might have been a regional fanbase thing since baby army me didn't specifically engage with the west side of the fandom but rather south east asia?

I've always been a jikooker (for fun at the beginning since i liked their vocals together, then mr jeon jk dropped the bombshell that is gcft and i was gagged) but i used to watch a lot of taekook theories, which was how i came across that company covers taekook narrative. I know jikook has always been a sensitive subject in the fandom but i learned just recently how bad it has gotten over the years. AYS?! and their military enlistment really got fire under people's seats.

Hi anon.

As someone who’s been in this fandom for a while, I’d say those narratives really started gaining traction around 2017, especially after GCFT.

You see, in the early days, Jikook as a ship barely existed. The most popular pairings were Taekook and Namjin, and to a lesser extent, Vmin and Yoonmin. Jikook hardly got any attention. Taekook had a lot of cute and playful moments…they were always seen goofing around, being mischievous, and just having a lighthearted bond. In contrast, not many people paid attention to Jimin and Jungkook’s interactions, partly because their dynamic didn’t always appear as wholesome or easygoing as Taekook’s. Naturally, many fans gravitated toward Taekook because it was more digestible, more heartwarming, and lacked that sense of emotional push and pull which people just looking for an escape from the real world weren’t ready to deal with.

Now, as is typical in fan culture, people tend to ship characters they enjoy seeing together regardless of whether they believe anything romantic is truly happening. That’s what happened with Taekook. They were the two youngest members with an adorable bond, and since romantic love is often wrongly seen as the highest form of love, everything had to be framed as romance. Taekook quickly became BTS’s biggest ship.

Fast forward to around 2016, and there was a noticeable shift….Taekook weren’t being seen together in content as much, and when they were, something felt different. Around this time, many people claimed there was suddenly a rise in Jikook content, but that’s not entirely true. Jikook had always been there. It’s just that their moments were overlooked because Taekook’s interactions dominated the spotlight. As the members matured, Jikook’s bond also evolved from roughhousing and teasing to something much softer and more emotionally grounded. Naturally, people began to take notice. But what really changed the game was Jungkook’s GCFT.

Once GCFT dropped, it became impossible to ignore Jikook. Even those who hadn’t paid much attention started to see the dynamic between them. And because Taekook was the most famous and widely accepted ship at the time, this shift was something many Taekookers couldn’t handle. To make sense of it…and to keep believing in their preferred narrative, they latched onto the only explanation that fit their perspective: the company was using Jikook to cover up Taekook.

These narratives began circulating around 2017. While I can’t say for sure who started them, there’s no doubt that Taekook-lives played a major role in making them widespread. Taekookers were desperate to explain why Jungkook was suddenly doing so much with Jimin even though they had long believed that the person he truly loved was Taehyung. So when someone came along offering an explanation that allowed them to maintain that belief, they clung to it no matter how absurd it sounded. Many had formed a deep emotional attachment to the fantasy of Taekook, and they weren’t ready to let it go.

As with most things in life, if you look hard enough for proof of something, you’ll find it. There are plenty of instances where interactions between members get cut and there are a number of plausible reasons for that. Coincidences, editing choices, off-camera behavior that couldn’t be aired… the list goes on. But Taekookers were looking for confirmation, so Taekook-lives began combing through content, cherry-picking any moments that supported the idea of Taekook being “separated.” She ignored the fact that every member pairing has had moments like that, and since no one else was compiling those kinds of edits for other ships, it created the illusion that only Taekook were being “targeted” by the company….even when the so-called cuts made no sense at all.

As people consumed these long, dramatized YouTube videos titled “Taekook Being Separated by Bighit” or similar misleading content, they developed a kind of protective instinct. They truly began to believe Taekook were being oppressed and that belief gave them a cause to fight for. When people feel like they’re defending something pure and hidden, especially in the face of adversity, it creates a kind of loyalty and determination that’s hard to break. That’s how the group kept growing. And this also explains why so many Taekookers developed such strong animosity toward Jimin. In their eyes, he became the villain…a bad friend to Taehyung….because they believed he was helping the company keep Taekook apart without caring how his actions hurt Taehyung.

In short, these narratives gained traction in 2017 because many Taekookers couldn’t accept that human relationships are complex. Sometimes, people drift apart…because of age, life changes, or evolving circumstances….and form deeper bonds with others. But instead of acknowledging that, they created a storyline where the company was forcibly separating Taekook and using Jikook as a smokescreen.

Because in their world, Taekook couldn’t have naturally grown apart. No…..it just had to be sabotage.

#jikook #Taekook #the cult #my asks

127 notes · View notes

babystrcandy · 2 years ago

Text

the lucky one (pt. 5) | jjk

summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut word count: 27.7K chapter summary: You and Jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. It was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people. warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, jk and oc are the sun and moon 100%, hoseok i’m going to kiss you, karaoke..., yoonmin (i don’t ship them irl, don’t worry; all fictional and for plot purposes), panic attacks, poem referenced: mock orange by louise gluck a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives by cassandra de alba, oc and jk are like so in love it’s not even funny anymore, oc in her mid-2521 na heedo era, she’s not doing too good, reporters are vultures, mention of king lear, i’m telling you they’re embarrassingly in love, unprotected soft sex like...soft-soft extra soft, mention of icarus/the fall of icarus, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3

chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue ( ← previous | next → )

FIVE WAYS YOU CAN Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

OK . . .

You blinked once. Twice. Then once more, trying to make sense of the words before your eyes.

The thing was: you’d dealt with anxiety before. Hell, you’d been taking to biting your nails until they bled for a while now. You knew how it felt to peel over the edge of a toilet and empty your stomach’s contents just before a game. But . . . you never knew how to handle it or how to deal with it in such abundant measures.

Why were you looking into it now one may ask? Easy. You didn’t care much about how much you could endure, because truth be told: you knew you could handle it. You knew it would pass and while it sucked, you knew it was something you could deal with. And besides, you could deal with a lot, so . . .

But . . .

There were certain things that made sense to you. While you knew you could deal with everything on your plate . . . and while . . . while you knew Jungkook could handle himself . . . for some reason, you just didn’t want him to have to.

It was an odd thing: realizing you’d rather deal with both your problems and his than let him suffer. You supposed that was what it meant to be friends, though . . . and well . . . you’d never really had any, so this was all new territory for you.

So ever since a few months ago when Jungkook told you about what happened to him just last year, you’d taken to the internet. You spent countless hours researching anxiety disorders, how to help, what to say, what to do, and on the off chance he had a panic attack near you, you’d taken to researching what to do then, too.

It made you feel a little stupid, yes, but you didn’t know how else to help. You didn’t want to make him feel . . . different for telling you, but you also . . . you didn’t want him to feel so alone anymore. (You’d even bought a book on it all (it only made you feel more clueless).

Now . . . you didn’t know much, but you hoped the research would do something. And perhaps it wasn’t too far off either. After all, you’d been helping Jungkook stay away from booze as much as possible, even deciding to stay sober with him and you thought it was helping some. But you knew the late night talks were what helped more. You didn’t know how to say this without sounding full of yourself, but you liked to think you were helping him.

That was what you truly wanted. To help him in ways you couldn’t help yourself. You could handle everything as long as he didn’t have to. That . . . that was what felt right to you.

So . . . five ways you can help someone with an anxiety disorder, you read again. You felt a little more than clueless. Still.

“Hey, Sunshine—“ Jungkook called for you, snapping you out of your own mind— “come look. It’s done.”

Blinking quickly, you clicked off your phone out of habit, realizing where you were. A tattoo parlor.

Yeah . . .

It was the weekend of the final tournaments. The win or lose all, and Yunis was up there right next to the big leagues. How? All because of Jungkook. These past few months you and him had been unbeatable. Sure, you’d lost a few, but . . . more often than not, the two of you would end a match with grins on your faces moments before you jumped into his arms and just let yourself . . . celebrate with him.

That was how it had been. You and Jungkook against the world. And to be honest, you quite liked it that way. (Granted, after your little outburst, your teammates had stopped talking about Jungkook altogether and started to . . . almost but not really but also kind of . . . respect him more (except Wooshik, but whatever). That made things a whole lot better, but it was still just you and him and you were sure it would be for the rest of the season.)

Anyway . . . you were getting off-topic.

The point was: it was almost the weekend of the final tournaments and Yunis was staying at some hotel somewhere in Ulsan. And well, while you and Jungkook were watching some movie in his hotel room, he got an idea. He wanted a new tattoo. For good luck, he’d claimed, and you . . . you hadn’t gotten a tattoo since that one mistake of one. But somehow, someway, Jungkook had managed to drag you out of the hotel and into the nearest tattoo shop he could find on the GPS.

Which landed you there: sitting in the waiting area while Jungkook went first. (He wanted it to be a surprise. That was what he told you, which you thought was a little silly, but whatever.)

And then it would be your turn.

Actually . . .

You turned to face Jungkook, taking in the dopey grin he had spread across his face while he peeked at you through the door leading to the tattooing room. It was your turn.

“Hmm?” you hummed in questioning.

Jungkook shook his head. “Come look,” he repeated as he gestured for you to follow him. “And then I’ve got a couple ideas for yours. Don’t let me forget. And don’t pretend to forget. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but nevertheless, followed after him, shutting the door behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the artist, but, well, you had never been good at greeting people, so what should’ve been a small greeting wave, turned into you just staring at him with some kind of . . . smile on your face. And when you realized that was so not the way to go, you turned your attention back to Jungkook, grabbing onto the loop of his jeans as he led you to the mirror on the other side of the room.

Jungkook glanced to where you clung onto him, raising his brows as he looked between your face and your hand. “Good?”

You blinked. Then realized what you were doing. Then well . . . you cleared your throat and attempted to tear your hand from his body, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist. And without a second glance, Jungkook guided your hand back to him, allowing it to slip into his back pocket.

All you could do was stare at the back of his head in shock. His dark hair was long now. Longer than it had ever been, to the point it could only be tied back with a hair tie or it’d be in his face all day, which was his go-to most days considering the days were long and hot. And somehow, he looked more like himself like that. He seemed to smile more, too, and you always managed to smile back even when you least expected it.

But you couldn’t help it. He was just . . . well . . .

(Sometimes he made you wonder if you should really find your friend this attractive but you ignored that most days.)

Whatever . . . the point was: you had trouble wrapping your head around his touch; around the fact that while he wasn’t exactly yours, he didn’t mind your hands on him at any time. No one had ever liked your touch this much. You had always been too cold; too harsh; too rough, but around him, you felt like your touch was almost . . . soft.

And that was what always shocked you.

“Are you drooling?” Jungkook asked, snapping you out of your own head.

Only then did you realize you had been staring at him for quite a while now, and well, he would always tease you about that. Because he was . . . Jungkook.

Your brows scrunched together. “What?”

But he didn’t bother to repeat his question. No, instead, he took his thumb and swiped at your bottom lip, inspecting it in thought. “Yep, just as I thought—“ he jutted his thumb toward you— “drool.”

Glaring, you stepped closer. “I don’t drool,” you nearly huffed.

“Mmm, that’s not what the evidence says.”

“It’s chapstick.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You glared a little harder. “Will you just show the tattoo?”

Jungkook only grinned.

And then, he turned his attention to his tattooed arm, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes stayed trained on his arm the entire time, expecting some sort of skull or something stupid, but instead . . . no . . . as he pulled up his sleeve, he revealed a vine of some sort of blue flowers traveling from the empty space left on his lower forearm to his hand, covered by a saniderm wrap.

“What flower’s that?” you questioned, eyes still trained on the fresh tattoo as you carefully brought your hand to his arm.

“Morning glories,” he hummed while he watched you slowly turn his arm to get the full view. “My mom says they’re a pain. They grow everywhere like weeds. Once you plant one, that’s it, she says. They grow like wildfire. A nuisance.” He laughed softly. “Figured it fit.”

“It’s pretty,” you murmured with a small smile. “Fits the rest.” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Kinda looks like the snake is wrapping around it.”

Jungkook nodded. “Cool, right?”

It was. It actually really was.

“It’s nice,” you settled with instead, feigning disinterest.

But Jungkook knew you well. “Admit it,” he pushed on, leaning toward you. “Admit you’re impressed.”

Nearly rolling your eyes, you finally huffed, “Yes, fine, it’s actually cool, Kook.”

“So I’ve impressed you?”

“Well, considering I thought you were going to get a dick, yes, I suppose I’m impressed,” you muttered with a small shrug.

Jungkook snorted. “Well.”

Oh god. No, he didn’t.

Furrowing your brows, you pegged the question, “Please tell me you did not get a dick and balls tattooed on you.”

His face screwed up as he tilted his head to the side in thought. “Well . . . “

“Kook.”

Pursing his lips into a cute pout, he offered you his other hand, showing off his fingers. And there on his ring finger was the number three, and on his middle was a sideways U. Meaning, yes, Jeon Jungkook did, in fact, get a small yet visible yet inconspicuous yet not that inconspicuous at all, penis tattooed on his fingers. And no, no, you were not surprised.

“Really?” you deadpanned.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whoops.”

“As long as you don’t think this is a matching tattoo kind of thing,” you started off with your finger pointing directly into his chest. “Because, I’m telling you right now, Jungkook, I am not getting a dick tattooed on my body.”

And Jungkook only snorted, shaking his head. “No, god, I’m stupid, not an idiot. I have my designs in my bag.”

Designs? Your brows twitched. He spent that much time on this? But—

But Jungkook was already one step ahead of you, walking from you toward where his bag lay on the ground beside the tattoo chair. He rummaged through its contents until he clasped his hand around a small sketchbook before he took it out and reapproached you, already flipping through it.

Flip, flip, flip . . . and flip, until . . . he paused on a page and slowly offered it toward you with an almost shy (?) look on his face. Jungkook, shy? You almost didn’t believe it, but still, you took the sketchbook from him without another word, letting your eyes take in the sketch before your eyes.

It was another flower. Well, a stem with a few flowers. Yellow this time. And a little different from Jungkook’s. Perhaps it was a little more peculiar.

“It’s an evening primrose,” Jungkook began while your eyes stayed trained on the sketch, still analyzing it. “My mom used to have them in our garden back home. They, uh, only bloom at night. I remember every night we’d watch them. They’d do this little shake and—“ he laughed, softly at first, then a little louder— “my mom would say it was like they were yawning.”

You traced your fingertips over the sketch, remembering your own little memories of the silly flowers. That was why you remembered them. They were your mom’s favorite. She used to plant like five batches each spring and force you to come outside and watch them with her, and yes, you said force because you had always been a disagreeable child. But still, every night, you watched them.

“They’re my mom’s favorite,” you voiced aloud with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed under his breath. “My mom said she gives her a bundle every year for her birthday.”

Glancing up, you nearly beamed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

“I guess they’d be proud of us, hmm?” you murmured, searching his face. When you realized what you’d said, you quickly cleared your throat. “For becoming chummy, you know?”

His brows twitched. “Yeah . . . I guess they would.”

A beat of silence.

Then . . . Jungkook cleared his throat, shaking his head of his thoughts as his eyes turned back to the sketch. “Anyway, uh, they remind me of home, so I thought maybe they’d do the same for you,” he allowed himself to say in a hushed tone. “But, I mean, there’s others. The drawing’s kinda shit, so—“

“I like it,” you cut him off as you held the sketchbook closer to you. “I’ll—“ you shrugged— “I’ll get it.”

Jungkook’s brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Really?”

You only nodded. “Why not? It’s cool. It means something I think, so yeah, fuck it, I’ll get it. Besides—“ you flicked his nose— “the sketch is not half bad. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”

“That’s because I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK—“ he agreed with a shrug— “hand me the tattoo gun. I can give you a Jungkook original.”

Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but purse your lips into an unamused grimace. “No, thanks, I’ll end up walking out with testicles drawn on my forehead,” you muttered with just a little bite in your words.

And that got him. Jungkook laughed, his eyes crinkling first before a grin broke out onto his face. All the while, he playfully ruffled your hair, gesturing for you to sit down in the chair a second later. And you let it happen, a small dopey smile on your face.

(And you almost realized that while Jungkook had been smiling more lately, you, too, had never smiled so much in your life. You supposed you had him to thank for that . . .

Supposedly.)

It wasn’t your reflection which caught your attention in the mirror. No, rather, what your eyes had landed on was the fresh tattoo of an evening primrose placed in the center of your sternum. It was almost similar to Jungkook’s, yet different just like the two of you, and the funny thing about it was . . . it kept managing to bring a small, almost unnoticeable smile to your face.

“What’s got you smiling?” you heard from behind you as Jungkook appeared in the doorway of the hotel room’s bathroom (completely shirtless, might you add).

“Oh, nothing—“ you shrugged as you reached for a comb (totally not just pretending to untangle the ends of your hair), while maintaining eye contact with him in the mirror— “just the fact you whined and whined about how much pain your arm was in for like, what? An hour after?” Turning slowly to face him, you puffed out your bottom lip into a pout. “Such a pussy.”

His brows raised—a look of challenge. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence.

Another shrug was your only response.

Jungkook fought off a grin, crossing his arms. “I’m a . . . pussy?” Pushing off the doorway, he took a step toward you, head cocked to the side slightly. “Hmm?”

Mirroring him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s what I said.”

“Oh, is that what you said?” he mused, mocking your voice.

And before you could even protest or drop your jaw in shock, he was in front of you. He caged you in, leaning his hands on the counter behind you. One more inch and his nose would be touching yours, but you didn’t dare close that gap.

“You’re such a child,” you hissed in a hushed tone as if his proximity had made the room that much smaller and you that much more exposed.

“Mmm, am I?” he mused, his eyes trailing over your features with such languid strokes, you wondered how you ever handled his gaze before.

You raised your head ever so slightly.

To which, obviously, Jungkook found amusing. With that small, toothy, almost endearing smile on his face, he closed the gap, his nose brushing yours. “Kiss me then,” he murmured, pressing closer, just enough to brush his lips against yours in a feathering touch.

And you began to wonder how on earth you ended up becoming putty in his hands. “What if I bite you instead?” you murmured, but despite your words, you leaned into his touch.

Resting his forehead against yours, he hummed, “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”

You felt yourself grin. “Good.”

The only response you received was his lips pressing against yours. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as a grin tipped onto his face. His hands tickled your sides, lightly dancing across your skin before settling on your rib cage just below the crescents of your breasts.

(Perhaps you forgot to mention that you were entirely topless . . .

What? It was uncomfortable with the fresh tattoo.

Whatever.)

And well honestly, you couldn’t resist not having him close. So what if it bothered your tattoo? He felt better than any pain relief.

Quickly, you found yourself tangling your hands in his dark, grown-out hair as you pulled him close enough to have your bare chest pressed against his. It made you feel close . . . closer than you had ever felt with anyone . . . closer than you had ever let yourself. His grip tightened on you instantly, his hands squeezing your sides once more before he gently sucked your bottom lip under the grasp of his teeth.

It only deepened from there. You melted into him, allowing him to meld his tongue against yours. The act squeezed a soft sigh out of you, to which Jungkook couldn’t contain himself. He smiled widely against your lips, and then his arms were around your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter. And once you were supported by the countertop, he stepped in between your parted legs as his hands found your face, gently caressing your jaw while he all but sucked on your tongue like he had done so many times before.

“Stop trying to eat my face,” you chuckled against his lips, still kissing him back while your arms wrapped around his neck.

He shook his head, but the small grin you felt against your lips gave him away. “Stop turning me on then,” he murmured back. “It’s just not fair, Daisy baby.”

Daisy baby. That was a new one.

Your brows twitched without your permission as your eyes traced his features. More specifically, your gaze fixed on his lips, watching as he tongued his lip ring—a habit he had accumulated over the years you supposed.

It made it harder to focus on anything except him. And for the second time that night, you wondered how on earth you ended up being at his mercy time and time again.

It just felt so unlike you. So different. So new. So . . . unfamiliar.

Did you like it?

You questioned yourself over and over again these past months. It felt like something you shouldn’t be able to feel. Really . . . it just made you wonder and wonder and wonder.

Until . . . Yes, you decided. Oddly enough, yes, you did like it. You quite liked feeling like this.

But what exactly was this?

. . . Your eyes met his, and your gaze softened instantly. You had no idea what this was. No idea . . .

Jungkook caught onto the look which crossed your face and leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “What’s got you lookin’ like that?” he sighed against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could.

And your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into his touch. “Nothing,” you hummed, angling your neck to give him more access to your body. “I just—“

But a knock at the door halted the words from leaving your tongue.

The two of you paused.

A beat of silence.

Another knock came.

Jungkook pulled back and your eyes met, confusion passing between the two of you.

Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? Especially Jungkook’s? (Because, really, after the whole meltdown you had at dinner after the first tournament . . . everyone had steered clear of the two of you. So you wondered once more . . . who could be at the door?)

No words were exchanged between the two of you, Jungkook only took the step into the hall, and peered through the peephole on the door. You watched in silence as he stared a second too long, his posture stiff before he sighed and disappeared back into the room. And well, in utter confusion, you hopped down from the counter, following after him only to find he had put on a tee and grabbed another, moments before he handed that very shirt to you with a tight-lipped smile.

“Who is it?” you whispered, your voice hushed as you put on the shirt he’d handed you, covering your bare chest.

Jungkook tongued his inner cheek, but before you could even press the question, his face softened. A small, stiff smile met his lips as he reached out and caressed your chin with his pointer, while his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Keep your claws in,” he murmured, that small smile still on his face as if he thought that alone would be enough to ease your wandering mind.

“What—“

But he was already gone.

His touch left you and you watched as he approached the door, while you followed slowly behind. The door was swinging open the next second, revealing—

Oh. You blinked in shock.

In the doorway stood Hoseok, whose back was facing you at that very moment while he talked to . . . Seulki?

Huh?

Tilting your head in confusion, you caught Seulki’s wide dark eyes. Her eyes widened further at the sight of you two as she quickly smacked Hoseok’s shoulder and pointed behind him. The action caused Hoseok to immediately shut his mouth as he slowly turned around, his lips down-turned into an awkward expression as his gaze darted between you and Jungkook.

Furrowing your brows, you sent him a look.

Hoseok blinked back in response. Seulki nervously waved before trying to pass it off as her attempting to scratch the back of her head. And Jungkook . . . well . . . he was the one to clear his throat, putting an end to the silence. (You, however, caught onto the fact that his eyes remained glued to his feet the entire time.)

That . . . that made you step forward, until you stood beside Jungkook, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. “Something wrong?” you questioned the two of them, keeping a close eye.

Hoseok opened his mouth, hesitating slightly. “Uh—“

“We were looking for you guys,” Seulki cut in with a wide smile on her face. “So it’s good that you’re both—“ she glanced at Hoseok, starting to fidget with her hands as she cleared her throat— “here. Hoseok?”

Hoseok eyed her, a tad startled before he nodded in agreement. “Right, yeah,” he hummed with a clap of his hands. “We were gonna meet up with some friends from college in Busan for karaoke. They’re just . . . they’re coming to the final tournaments and we thought ‘why not, let’s go out’.” He laughed . . . awkwardly if you might add. “Anyway . . . We’ve got two extra train tickets. Could be yours . . . ?”

Quirking a brow, you glanced between them. “How much?”

A perplexed look crossed both their faces. But it was Seulki who spoke up first. “What?” she mumbled, slightly puffing out her bottom lip into a small pout—something she happened to do a lot that you’d caught onto. “Nothing. We just . . . “

As her words trailed off, Hoseok picked up where she left off. In fact, he took it a step further. “We . . . “ He quickly shut his mouth, shaking his head at his thoughts before he raised his head once more, eyes now locked on Jungkook rather than hiding from him. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, it seemed Hoseok had something to get off his chest as he took a literal instead of metaphorical step toward him. “I . . . I feel bad . . . for how we treated you. I assumed things. I never asked you. I never thought to. I should’ve gotten to know you before listening to anything Wooshik had to say. I misjudged you. For that, and everything else . . . I’m—“ he touched a hand to his chest before he gestured toward Seulki— “we are sorry.”

And while his words lingered in the air, you hadn’t realized that the stiffness in your muscles had slowly loosened and your gaze was now set solely on Jungkook. How could it not be?

With a careful glance, you took in Jungkook’s demeanor. It was clear he, too, was taking in Hoseok’s words. His head was still lowered, his eyes trained on his feet, but they kept moving in rapid motions as if he were fighting with himself to not look up. And all you could think was: look up . . . please, please look up.

You hadn’t expected it when you first saw them in the doorway, but you weren’t an idiot. Hoseok and Seulki had come here to make amends. They had come here to admit their wrongs. You couldn’t be angry with that . . . not when you had seen just how happy Jungkook had been the first time he’d been able to . . . see someone.

If he looked up . . . then that would mean he would be OK. If he looked up . . . then maybe he could breathe a little easier. And truly . . . as odd as it sounded . . . all you wanted was for him to be . . . happy.

If Jungkook looked up . . . all of that could be possible.

“Look—“ Hoseok began again, nearly reaching out to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but he stopped himself before he made contact— “Uh . . . you don’t seem like a bad guy . . . so I was wondering if we could all hang out like teams are supposed to, you know? Not just to apologize . . . but to . . . be friends, I suppose, is what I mean . . . “

You swallowed hard, fighting with yourself not to speak for him. Look up, Jungkook, you repeated over and over again in your head, watching him with careful eyes. Look up. Please . . . please . . .

Another beat of silence, more painful than the last.

Then . . .

. . . Jungkook raised his head, and his eyes met Hoseok’s, and you knew what his answer would be.

In no way, shape, or form could you comprehend how you managed to make it to some random karaoke bar in the middle of Busan around, like, two in the morning. Hell, you didn’t even remember hopping onto the midnight train to get to the city in the first place, but there you were, dressed in whatever the fuck you could find in your suitcase that wasn’t a badminton uniform, and you were sitting next to one of Hoseok’s friends (Namjoon, you thought his name was.)

And while Namjoon managed to impress you with his choice in cologne, he had been talking your ear off for the past half hour and you couldn’t think straight for the entirety of the time he’d been telling you about well . . . you honestly had no idea what he was talking about. In truth, you couldn’t really hear much . . . because your mind was elsewhere. Because, because, because for the last half hour that Namjoon had been at your side, your eyes had been on Jungkook.

Now . . . you knew how that sounded, but you had a reason. You see, Jungkook wasn’t alone either. He had been sat next to another one of Hoseok’s friends (let’s call him Yoongi and hope you got that right) . . . and he was like . . . looking at him. No, no, like . . . he was looking him in the eyes . . . that is why you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop trying to eavesdrop, couldn’t stop just . . . just . . . just whatever!

Was it embarrassing to say you were proud of him?

But . . . you were . . .

As much as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d become the only person you’d ever been this close to in your life. He’d once told you you were the only one he could see . . . the only one he wasn’t afraid of to look in the eyes, and now . . . in just a few hours, he’d allowed himself to hear people, see them, interact with them beyond the restrictions he’d put on himself the entirety of his contract with Yunis.

And the little thing that made you feel all that more warm, was the attentive, genuine smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Yoongi was saying. That . . . that made a smile of your own touch your lips as you took in the scene.

“You agree?” you heard from beside you, Namjoon’s voice startling only slightly enough to have you abruptly whipping your head in his direction with a confused expression on your face.

You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Hmm?” you hummed in a questioning tone as you snuck a glance back at Jungkook, only to find . . . oh . . . only to find him lazily shifting his gaze from Yoongi to you with an amused smirk on his face. (Great, so he had seen you looking at him. Great. That he’ll really get you later on with.) “Do I agree—what?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from Jungkook and finally face Namjoon, who seemed to be oblivious to everything else. You weren’t even really sure if he had heard your question or if he were too busy inside his own head, questioning himself. But it didn’t matter either way, because . . . the music cut out, Hoseok and Seulki’s voices died down, followed by their out of breath laughter, and then:

“Alright, who’s next?” Hoseok called out, offering up the microphone.

Immediately, Yoongi shook his head, leaning back to indulge in his drink rather than the question at hand. And no one else could get another word in before, Seulki and Hoseok had caught onto this little act, only they didn’t exactly . . . go for him. No, rather, Seulki, specifically, all but jumped toward Jungkook. “I vote Jungkookie goes!” she declared as she leaned forward to dangle the microphone in front of his face.

“Agreed! Jungkook-ah, onstage now!” Hoseok exclaimed, closing the distance to Jungkook before he wrapped a hand around his arm, urging him to stand to his feet and take over the spotlight.

(Clearly . . . something you hadn’t mentioned . . . everyone but you and Jungkook were . . . perhaps maybe a little bit or a lot or yeah, yeah, yeah . . . they were drunk. (So you could see how . . . this had happened.))

And Jungkook all but turned cherry-cheeked. “No, no, I can’t,” he laughed it off, trying to wave them away. “I’m a horrible singer, really.”

Lie.

He once sang for your elementary school’s talent show . . . you know . . .

But the others persisted, whining and whining and blah blah blah—

. . . Five minutes later, no doubt, Jungkook finally gave in with a playful groan. He took the microphone from Seulki, slowly making his way to the center of the room you guys had booked, and then you noticed something . . . his eyes had only been on you the entire time. And suddenly, you began to wonder what that meant, wrapping your arms around yourself as your brows raised in question.

Until:

“Listen,” Jungkook began, a half-grin sliding onto his face as he maintained eye-contact with you, “I’ll sing . . . but I need my sidekick.”

Raising your brows, you knew you’d kill him for that later. But still you didn’t move. All you could do was shake your head, because no, no, no you did not want to sing in front of anyone.

“OK. OK,” Jungkook nodded slowly to himself, but you knew him better than that. He had something planned. And you could just tell by the way he began to walk toward the system in order to plug in the song that was somehow someway on his mind. Then, he turned back around, both microphones in his hands, his eyes solely on you with a mischievous glint in them as the first seconds of the song began to blast through the speakers.

Squinting your eyes in skepticism, you watched him.

He only sent you a knowing grin.

And you suddenly had a feeling you knew exactly what he had put on.

“ . . . She ain’t got no money,” Jungkook began, trying his best to sing, but his grin kept growing and growing just as your face fell and fell and fell. “Her clothes are kind of funny. Her hair is kinda wild and free. Oh, but—”

You nearly smacked a hand to your face.

“—Love grows where my Rosemary goes,” he continued, beginning to bob his head now to the music. “And nobody knows but me.” Clearing his throat over the music, you knew you were in for it. “Come on, Rosemary, on your feet. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go, because! Love grows where my Rosemary goes! And nobody knows like—Come on!—me!”

And finally . . . finally after being hounded and hounded, you unstuck yourself from your seat, your eyes solely on him as if it were just the two of you against everything, and then you took the microphone from his hand, and you knew you’d sealed your fate. Shaking your head at him, you playfully rolled your eyes moments before you glanced at the screen, checking where you were in the song.

Great, you thought. Fuck . . . OK. Clearing your throat again, this was your Hell. “I’m a lucky fella,” you began, your voice nearly tone-deaf, and certainly agony to the ears. “And I’ve just got to tell her that I love her endlessly.”

“Oh, because!” Jungkook jumped in, bumping you with his elbow. “Love grows where my Rosemary goes, and nobody knows like me!”

Snorting once, you continued for him, “There's something about her hand holding mine. It's a feeling that's fine,” you hummed along, realizing that perhaps . . . this . . . was . . . fun. And slowly, so slowly, you didn’t even realize you were doing it . . . you had begun to dance along, following Jungkook’s lead. “And I just gotta say—”

“Hey! She’s really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away,” he drawled out, perhaps carrying out his words a tad too much, but there was something about the smile on his face while he did it that you didn’t care.

That was when you really lost it. Perhaps lost it was the wrong word, but that was when you really stopped caring if there were other people in the room, about keeping up your image or whatever. It just felt like it was you and Jungkook and the music.

And before you knew it, the song had ended, cheers came from Hoseok’s friends, but your eyes were solely on Jungkook. They had never really left him, because this was the song you’d sang at the talent show in elementary. It was also the song you had been too afraid to sing alone . . . because you were perhaps maybe not a shy child, but an antisocial one. And Jungkook . . . Jungkook had offered to sing with you. He’d never wanted to be in the talent show, but you . . . you always wanted the spotlight, and so, it was because of him that you were able to have it that day. Otherwise you probably would’ve spent the entire night crying in the school’s bathroom because you couldn’t force yourself on stage. And he . . . he had saved you back then.

It seemed he always was . . .

That made a smile slowly grow on your face, but before it could form into a toothy grin, cheers erupted throughout the room. Eyes widening, you glanced toward the noise, realizing it was not just the two of you but rather the two of you and . . . them.

But this them didn’t feel malicious as it had in the past. No, in fact, before you could even blink, Seulki was already jumping toward you, jumping up and down while she beamed about how that had to be one of her all time favorite songs. And Jungkook . . . well . . . Hoseok had reached him in seconds, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he went on and on about how he had no idea he had such a voice, asking if he’s taken lessons, and blah blah blah . . . all the while everyone else shouted requests at the two of you, hooting for an encore.

It . . . well . . . to say the least, it managed to bring that smile back onto your face, and finally you let yourself look away from Jungkook, knowing you could trust the others with him, and suddenly all you could see was Seulki. You’d never had many friends. Perhaps competition or surface people, but a little part of you saw Yurim, your college doubles partner and probably the closest you’d ever had to a friend, in Seulki.

Except unlike all those years ago . . . this time you embraced Seulki with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile touching your face as you finally let yourself tell her the little story of how the song came to be for you. Now, yes, she was drunk out of her mind and would probably forget about all of this tomorrow, but you didn’t care.

It felt . . . nice . . . to talk to people like . . . this. And—And this feeling when you did . . . Oh what was that feeling called? Like, like warmth but better, perhaps innocent?

Were you . . . happy?

And then . . . you began to wonder . . . was this what it felt like to have . . . friends? Were you allowed to feel like this? Like . . . like you were happy?

In that moment, you glanced back at Jungkook for a brief second just as he did the same. Your eyes met, and you knew he felt the same. And then: relief, relief, relief . . .

A beat of silence.

In it more relief.

Beat.

Beat . . .

But . . . like all things . . . balance. A knock on the door ripped that blissful beat of relief from your grasp. Brows furrowing, you slowly turned to see a blurry shadow just behind the door, indicating that someone was . . . asking for permission to come in? But . . . who? As far as you knew everyone who was there was supposed to be there.

You wondered and wondered, trying to tilt your head to see if you could make it out. And then you heard them call his name, but you didn’t believe it at first. You didn’t quite hear it. Seulki was jumping beside you, and you could have sworn you heard Yoongi announce that it was probably his partner at the door.

And then as Yoongi slowly walked toward the door, opening it to greet the man with this adoring look in his eyes, your heart plummeted to your stomach. Instantly, your eyes snapped to Jungkook, and you saw the entire world crumble before you. You tried to reach him but Seulki was still holding onto you, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as the world fell and fell and fell, leaving you with no way to put it back together.

Amongst the chaos, your eyes fluttered back toward the door and you heard his name once more. Jimin, you could have sworn Hoseok had called out, and you knew this was reality.

Like an old ghost, Jimin had appeared at the door, almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered in college. His hair now honey blonde, his cheeks full and almost rosy, with this way about him that just screamed he was different now. It made you wonder how different he was now than a year ago when Jungkook left his past behind him.

Breathing carefully, everyone’s attention was on Jimin, but you caught sight of it first. Jimin’s eyes scanned the room and then . . . then they met yours. Your heart stopped again and you could have sworn his mirrored yours. His eyes widened only slightly, until they shifted just to the right of you, and you watched in silence as his lips parted, his brows twitching upward.

That was weird.

You would have expected him to meet the sight of Jungkook with anger . . . but the only expression on Jimin’s face was that of pain . . . perhaps . . . yearning . . . ? For something . . . ?

And finally, you allowed yourself to glance back at Jungkook, and you began to wonder if it truly were possible to die of a broken heart.

Jungkook stood stagnant, unmoving without even a single rise and fall of his chest. No, instead, his hand was clasped over his chest as if he were in physical pain, but he still didn’t move. Until he did.

Before you could reach him, Jungkook was off. He made a B-line for the door, pushing past everyone while they were distracted by Jimin’s appearance.

And you were a step behind him.

“Kook, where you going?” you briefly heard Hoseok call to Jungkook. “Jimin’s got to show you his vocals, man. He’ll give you a run for your money.”

But Jungkook wasn’t reachable. “I—um—restroom,” he barely strained out and then he was gone, slipping out the door and out of your sight.

You tried to keep up, desperately pushing past the others as you reached the door as well, but a hand on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes flicked from the hand on your arm to the face of the person it belonged to.

Jimin . . . he was the one who had stopped you. Of course.

But you had never been easily swayed. You quickly ripped your arm out of his grasp, and left without a look back. But it was no use. The hallway was empty. Jungkook was gone.

So what? You’d find him. You had to.

Without another thought, you didn’t even wait to hear the door close behind you as you began to stalk down the hall, but a voice called out to you.

“Hey, hey, wait,” the voice pleaded.

But you knew this voice well. You knew Jimin well, and you didn’t care what he had to say, not when Jungkook was missing.

Attempting to make another run for it, you put one foot in front of the other, only to be pulled back. Jimin wrapped a hand around your upper arm, pulling you into him and turning you to face him all at once. And you saw that hurt expression once again, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care! Jungkook was out there and he was alone and you needed him to know you were never leaving his side again.

So fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. You didn’t care!

Desperately, you tried to peel his hand from your arm, but his words halted you in your tracks.

“Is he OK?” Jimin quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he were ashamed of his own words.

Taking a step back, you could only shake your head at him. “Are you fucking serious?” you all but hissed, the words burning on your tongue as you finally ripped your arm out of his grasp. “Now you care? Now you want to act like—“ Your words were ripped from your lips, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, another shake of your head came. “You’re fucking unbelievable . . . Of course he’s not OK. He hasn’t been for a while, and you would know that if you hadn’t—“

The words died on your tongue, and Jimin watched. While your eyes betrayed you, watering slightly, Jimin looked as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His gaze darted across your face, his brows raised in concern (?) while he watched as you fought against the floodgates, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes and the lump in your throat.

And finally, you were able to force out the words: “He’s not OK. He’s really—“ you quickly exhaled— “really not.”

A beat of silence.

You swallowed that lump in your throat while a look of realization crossed Jimin’s face. It was funny . . . he looked completely different now than he did years ago . . . or maybe it was the look he wore. It was something you had never seen on him before.

But you really didn’t care.

Sucking in a breath, you cleared your throat and began to back away. “And he needs me so I have to—“

But Jimin cut you off. “So he told you?” he asked almost a little too hesitantly as he took a step toward you.

Nodding, you swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His brows raised. “You guys are . . . good?”

“Yes,” you muttered, nodding again. “He’s—We’re friends.”

Jimin blinked. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I just . . . I didn’t see that coming . . . “

“Well—“ you bit your inner cheek— “it did.”

Another beat of silence.

Then: Jimin took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too under his breath to even hear. “I didn’t expect that he’d be here. I haven’t seen him in . . . in a year. I didn’t even think he was . . . I didn’t think he was like that.”

Oh . . .

Don’t say it.

Don’t say—

Don’t—

But you couldn’t help but bite out, “No thanks to you.”

Jimin pinched his brows together. “What? What do you mean?”

You just had to say it . . .

“Nothing—“ clearing your throat, you realized just where your loud mouth had landed you— “just . . . I have to go, alright?”

With one final look at the man before you—a man you once knew that now barely resembled the one you’d known—you walked past him, eyes trained solely on what was before you. Jungkook was the only thing on your mind. Finding him was the only thing you cared about. Leaving the past behind was easy when you knew he was waiting for you somewhere up ahead.

But a hand wrapped around your forearm, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes widened as you heard Jimin speak, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying until you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his words head-on.

“Look . . . look, I know,” he had said, an almost desperate expression plaguing his face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. Trust me. I do.” Exhale.

Slowly, your brows scrunched together as you pried his hand off your arm. “Know what?” you questioned, your voice a slightly accusatory tone while you cocked your head to the side, eyeing him with skepticism.

A moment’s silence passed before he searched your eyes. What he was searching for, you couldn’t quite make out, but he kept searching and searching and searching until his brows twitched upward, an almost pained expression fueling his face. And then: “I know it wasn’t Kook’s fault,” he confessed, his voice soft and quiet as if he were ashamed of his own words. “What happened between him and Tae. I knew it wasn’t his fault.”

Instantly, your heart dropped.

He knew. He knew and he still let this happen.

You wanted to scream. At him. At everything. At nothing.

But you stayed frozen, your mind spiraling and spiraling.

“I tried to get them to see that, too, but . . . Kook had always been our glue, not me,” he nearly whispered, harshly pointing at his chest almost as if he were trying to punish or rather condemn himself. “Tae and I would get into arguments over stupid shit all the time, and Kook would always be there to get us to see eye-to-eye. I didn’t know how to help them. I’m not good at that; he was.”

And then you saw it: you saw the past in his eyes. Slowly, it unraveled, and you watched as the three of them practiced day in and day out while you glared at them across the field back in college. You remembered being angry, but you hadn’t known why, and now . . . now you realized you had been envious of the fact that they were . . . friends. While you had none, they had each other.

To see the three of them in completely separate places now . . . made your head spin and spin and spin. Never once did you think they’d do anything without each other, and now . . . now you were watching the past crumble through Jimin’s sad eyes.

It was almost as if you could see the moment they went their separate ways. Kook alone. Jimin and Taehyung together . . . but . . . distant . . .

The distance was clear on Jimin’s face, and when he spoke, he spoke with a certain type of nostalgia that you knew all too well. “I knew what I had to do,” he continued, those sad eyes of his not leaving yours. “I chose Tae. I would’ve chosen them both, but I couldn’t . . . so I stayed by Tae’s side. I knew how they both felt. I knew that I could play neutral all I wanted, but Kook was gonna leave and I had to either go with him or stay with Tae.” He shook his head as he chewed on his inner cheek. “And I couldn’t let Tae go through this alone . . . and—and there wasn’t enough time to fix what happened between them, but I thought Kook would be OK. I would’ve fought harder if I knew—”

His words cut off, getting tangled around his tongue as the lump in his throat rose higher and higher. There was no way to tell when it’d finally choke him. What would happen then?

“He was just always so . . . fine,” Jimin whispered more to himself than to you, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t believe it. “I thought he’d be OK. I thought he’d ignore all of this and win that medal we all dreamed of . . . but then he left the team and Wooshik . . he told me where he ended up.” He shook his head once more, his eyes now trained on the wall behind you, tears still glossing over and threatening to spill. “I didn’t think he was . . . struggling. I just thought he was hiding. I didn’t realize he was . . . “

“Well . . . I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with . . . guilt,” you heard yourself spit out before you could stop the words from flowing. You didn’t know why, you just . . . you just . . . you were just so angry. But at him? That you weren’t sure or.

It seemed Jimin was as shocked by your words as you were. His eyes met yours once again, blinking quickly, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, shaking his head in the process. “Don’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.

But you almost couldn’t control it. You were more parts anger than anything else, and there he was, the perfect subject to take it out on. Putting up a fight was useless, your mind was on autopilot. “Tae’s at home bedridden I assume and you’re here? On a date?” you hissed out through gritted teeth. “Mmm, I don’t know . . . sounds—”

“Don’t,” Jimin quickly cut you off, mirroring your anger. “You of all people don’t get to judge me.”

You raised your brows. “Why not?”

“You—“ he shoved an accusatory finger your way— “left him too once.”

And just like that, his words pierced your chest, making the anger spread into your bloodstream. “That’s different,” you bit out, eyes now shamefully trained on the ground.

“Is it?”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Don’t turn this around. You—”

But Jimin wasn’t having it. “He loved you, you know?” he spat like the words had burned his throat.

The world stopped.

A beat of silence.

Two beats.

Another.

. . . You could have sworn your heart thud in your chest. But . . . but that could’ve been your breath catching in your throat.

And then you heard it: your own shocked voice. “What?” you all but gasped out, taking a subconscious step back.

Jimin furrowed his brows as if . . . confused (?) by your reaction. “He loved you,” he went on, keeping a watchful eye on your face. “I don’t know why or how considering you were such a horrible person the entirety of college . . . but he stuck by you. I’ve never seen anyone love somebody that much. Hell, I didn’t think it was real, and I couldn’t understand why . . . but he loved you, and when you pulled that shit on him; when you left, me and Tae saw it. He didn’t talk to anyone for months.”

He loved you? He . . .

“He slowly came back, and a year later I thought he was fine. I thought he was finally over you, but . . . “ Jimin wet his lips— “I guess some old habits never die.”

Jungkook loved . . . you? In college he—But, no! He thought you guys had been friends. You were the one who had hated him, and he had thought of you as a friend. There was no love there. No, no there couldn’t be. He did not love you. He couldn’t have. No. No . . . No!

“And now you’re here . . . defending him . . . and I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Jimin finished off, his words more stable now. Then, slowly but surely, he nodded as if he had made peace with his thoughts. “But I get it. We all make our own choices. You made yours, but you . . . you don’t get to stand here now after everything and judge me when you left him in the dark for years. I made my choices, and I regret them most days, but it is what it is. You of all people should know that.”

But if he had loved you, then . . . had you broken his heart?

You knew you’d done quite a lot of damage on him, but you hadn’t considered that you’d broken . . . the very thing you’d come to grow so fond of. Because truly, over the past months, you’d come to know him more than you knew yourself, and you realized he’d always had this softness about him. He’d always had a good heart. That was what you had come to admire most about him. And if Jimin was right, that meant you had hurt that very part of him.

If he was telling the truth, you had done so much more damage to Jungkook than you had thought. Perhaps it had been you who had ruined him.

That . . . that made your rage boil. “I do,” you ended up biting out, your voice harsher than it had ever been as your rage boiled and boiled, nearly bubbling and spilling everywhere. “I regret every mistake I’ve ever made and I know hurting him is at the top of the list, but you knew that, too, and you still repeated what I did wrong. Why didn’t you go back for him? Why didn’t you, I don’t fucking know, try?! Why didn’t you fucking try?! Huh?!”

Those words left your lips and before you knew it, you were face to face with Jimin, not even two inches apart. Your breathing was ragged and you could feel your rage burning through your bloodstream, turning it to rot, surely burning through your skin.

Had it reached your heart?

“Why didn’t you try?” Jimin mumbled, the anger gone from his eyes as he took in your expression. And his words . . . this wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking why you hadn’t tried to help Jungkook back then, no . . . he was reminding you that you hadn’t tried for a reason.

Admit it or not, you hadn’t let him in because you hated yourself. And making yourself hate him, blame him, was easier than admitting you didn’t want to live with the person you had become.

That was why you hadn’t tried—you were exhausted with yourself, with everything.

And only then did it hit you. As those final words left your lips, you realized why you were so fueled with anger. You realized why you had chosen Jimin as your punching bag, and you realized what you had done.

Because, really, you weren’t angry with him. No, you were angry with yourself. It was like he had said . . . you had left Jungkook once, too.

Looking at Jimin was like looking in the mirror. What he had done to Jungkook was nothing close to what you had done to him. So being angry at him . . . hurting him was an excuse to ignore who you were really angry with: . . . yourself.

And finally, Jimin spoke for the both of you. “Because . . . I was exhausted,” he mumbled through a heavy exhale. “You don’t get it . . . I’ve stayed by Tae’s side for a year, and I’d do it again and again, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t blame him, too.”

Wetting your lips, you took a step back, your anger slowly turning to guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Why did you blow up on him like that? Fuck.

Hating him wouldn’t make you hate yourself less . . .

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“After the incident, it was like he just disappeared,” Jimin went on, his voice equal parts solemn and guilty. “Badminton was his dream. I think Tae loved it the most out of all of us, and just like that, it was gone. And without it, he just faded away. I don’t even think he blames Kook. He’s just . . . gone. It’s like he’s been on autopilot for the better half of a year.”

Fuck. Jimin wasn’t to blame. Just like Jungkook, this entire situation was just one big mess. No one was to blame. Fuck, no one was to blame, and yet . . . you were sure they all blamed themselves.

How could you have been so blinded by rage you hadn’t noticed this before?

“And I . . . I have had to live for the both of us,” he confessed, finally raising his head to meet your watchful gaze. “I knew what I was getting into, and I did it because I care for him, but I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize that . . . you can be there for someone as much as you want but there comes a time when caring for someone makes you stop caring about yourself.” His brows twitched only once, but the action carried a world of pain. “Tae is my best friend. They both were, and I . . . I didn’t just lose Jungkook that day. I had to live for Tae, and in doing so, I stopped living for myself.”

I stopped living for myself. Closing your eyes, you were only reminded how wrong you had been. The three of them were all in pain, refusing to admit it. They all blamed themselves, you were sure of it.

But no one was to blame.

No one.

Still, you stayed silent, keeping these thoughts to yourself. Your eyes fluttered back open, and it was as if you were staring the past in the face once again. And god, did it have such a guilty conscience.

“I know it’s wrong, but there will always be a part of me that resents him for it,” Jimin went on, sighing as his words left his lips. “And he—” he gestured back to the karaoke room; back to where Yoongi still resided— “is the only reason I didn’t lose myself. He is the only reason I can fucking breathe just for a second . . . so that is why I’m here. I don’t care if it’s selfish. He’s my sliver of happiness, which is why . . . “ he wet his lips, staring at you as if you were a reflection of his own past “ . . . which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then. So . . . I don’t blame you either but . . . but I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I know what I did. I will always regret it and I will always wish I could turn back time and make it all go away, but I can’t.”

Which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then, you repeated in your head once more. Was Jimin right? Had Jungkook truly loved you?

And then, one more final question popped into your head: Did he still?

“Min?”

The singular name brought you and Jimin out of your little bubble. The two of you turned your heads in the direction of the sound, finding Yoongi had peeked his head out of the karaoke room. His dark eyes shifted between you and his boyfriend, a skeptical look plastered across his face.

“Everything’s fine,” Jimin replied with a tight smile.

That was when you saw it—the way Yoongi’s face softened instantly with just a couple of words from Jimin. You recognized that look. You’d seen that very expression reach Jungkook’s face time after time again in the past months you’d spent getting to know each other more and more and . . .

Wait . . .

Wait, wait . . . you recognized that look, but in a deeper way, in a visceral way. Yes, you’d seen Jungkook wear it many times, but . . . you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere else, too. You could have sworn you’d catch glimpses of it on your own face when you’d walk past a mirror or catch your reflection in a puddle. And you’d always catch sight of it when . . . Jungkook was up ahead or behind or near.

Yes, that was it. You’d seen that expression on your own face when Jungkook was involved. But . . . did that mean?

No, no . . . no. Stop it. You couldn’t think about what this meant or that meant or this or that and those and them or whatever! No.

Right now . . . right now you had to focus. Jungkook had run off and you . . . you needed to find him, but—

Your gaze fixated on Jimin once again. What happened back then . . . He wasn’t to blame. No one was. They, all three of them, were in pain, blaming themselves and yet too scared to face it. None of them would dare to either. But it was so clear that Jungkook missed Taehyung and Jimin as well. And now . . . now it was clear just how much Jimin missed the both of them . . .

And well, you could do something about that. Perhaps then this guilt would leave you alone. Perhaps then things could be set right. Maybe then things could be the way they were supposed to be before life got in the way.

The answer was clear, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Jimin,” you began, clearing your throat and interrupting the conversation between him and his boyfriend. Once his eyes were on you, with a clearing of your throat, you continued. “I’m sorry . . . for blowing up on you. I didn’t realize that—nevermind—just . . . Jungkook . . . he misses you . . . and Tae. I can see that. He’s . . . He doesn’t hate you, you know? He blames himself, yes, but he’s not angry with either of you. I think he just wants you guys back . . . so . . . if there’s any way . . . ask Hoseok for my number.” You paused for only a second to swallow. “You shouldn’t have to live with regrets.”

A beat of silence followed your words once again, almost as if it were mocking you. But instead of turning your words to shit, Jimin welcomed the silence. He embraced it as a small smile lifted onto his lips. And then . . . then he nodded.

It was a silent agreement, but it was good enough for you.

This could be it.

A new leaf.

For him.

For Jungkook.

For Jungkook, you affirmed, and with that thought, you nodded back. “It was nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you mumbled genuinely, before your eyes shifted back to Jimin once again. Another nod from you. “Jimin. Tell Hoseok that Kook and I went to eat, yeah? We’ll see him at practice tomorrow.”

“Hey—“ Jimin piped up before you could leave— “remember to live for yourself, too, yeah?”

And you nodded back with a smile.

The world fell away piece by piece as you turned from them, their faces still glued to the back of your mind, but you couldn’t waste any more time. As it was, your anger had already bubbled over and burned enough bridges that night to waste a lifetime. You should’ve kept your cool. You should’ve tried to see everything from a bigger picture, but this rage trapped inside you seemed to be bigger than you knew how to control. Sure, it had subsided now . . . but only because . . . because that was what was right.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but . . . Jungkook had become someone important to you, perhaps the most important in your life. You’d never felt that before. You never thought you’d be able to care about someone this much before, but . . . you did, and that was enough to put away that anger boiling deep inside you just enough to do right . . . for him.

Did that make you crazy? Maybe . . . maybe it did, but there wasn’t much in you to care about things like that. All you wanted was to find him. If you found him, everything would be alright. It would. You swore it would.

Your feet didn’t feel like your own as you raced down the halls of the karaoke bar. The lights had begun to blur together in your vision, creating mixes of blue and purple racing in your peripheral. You’d even looked into room after room, disturbing group after group, solely searching for him.

Until . . . with your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing uneven, and a relentless shiver shaking throughout your body, through the muted colorful lights, you caught sight of a man’s figure crouched down in a corner of the building. His hands were covering his ears, his face hidden in his knees as he breathed heavily, but he was there. You’d found him. Instantly, your muscles relaxed. Exhale.

You’d found him. “Ju—” but you quickly cut yourself off before you could draw any attention to yourself.

Think. You had to think. You couldn’t approach him like you normally would. You couldn’t go in all thorns and nails on a chalkboard. This was different. This was what you had read about. What you realized you had never been good at—comfort.

How could you comfort? You had never been nurturing. Hell, you’d read something once that told you some women just weren’t meant to be mothers, and you knew you were one of them. You knew you couldn’t didn’t know how to be . . . soft.

But you had to try. For him . . .

And then you remembered:

Five Ways You Can Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

But . . . but . . . fuck! How was that supposed to help you now? Let them know it’s OK not to be OK. OK . . . You swallowed hard. You could do that. Focus on things they can change. OK, OK. You could do that, too.

Hesitantly, you took a step forward.

But shit! You paused, halting in your movements. What if that didn’t work? What if you didn’t do it right? What if it only made it worse? What if you only made him worse?

Just . . . just . . . fuck, OK! Just—

“Kookie,” you heard yourself say clearly before you knew you had even opened your mouth.

In response, his breathing stopped but he didn’t raise his head to meet your gaze. Instead . . . “It’s OK. Just go back . . . “ he muttered out, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I’m OK.”

I’m OK. You swallowed hard. No . . . no, he wasn’t, and unlike all those years ago, you were not going to leave him behind. Not now. Never again.

It didn’t take another second for you to cross the distance to him before you sank to your knees right in front of him, reminding yourself not to startle him. “I’m here,” was all you said, fighting against everything harsh and rough in you, trying desperately to be soft.

The thing was: people could tell you countless amounts of things on how to help someone, but . . . you’d never get it. You weren’t good at it. You couldn’t do that, be that. You knew him, too. He wasn’t textbook like all the things you’d read up on. You assumed no one was . . . so . . . you’d like to add one more to the list: ask him how you could help.

“What—” you inhaled sharply— “What do you need me to do?”

Still, Jungkook would not meet your eyes, but he didn’t need to. You saw his body shift. You saw him process your words. And you knew he wasn’t going to hide from you. “Just—” he all but choked out— “ground me. Put your arms. Squeeze . . . hard.”

And just like that, you acted quickly. You didn’t waste any time as you scooted behind him, wrapping your arms around his figure, locking him into your body, and squeezing as he’d instructed. Resting your cheek on his back, you continued hugging his body to yours, listening to his heartbeat as you did so. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begged for this to help him, but the beat of his racing heart met your ears like a drum.

It wasn’t enough. You had to keep going.

“OK, OK, what else?” you asked him, your voice clear and calm . . . and soft.

But the beat of his heart was the only thing you heard.

Ground him. You squeezed harder. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Speak to me, Koo,” you all but begged.

“Tell me something,” he mumbled, and you nearly exhaled in relief. “Please, say anything.”

Nodding quickly, you tried to scrounge up something, anything. “OK, um, um,” you stuttered out, racking your brain over and over again, until finally . . . “Do you remember when we were kids and my parents rented that cabin for the summer? You had this fake tattoo of a dragon that you really really wanted to put on your arm right—“ you grabbed his forearm, pressing your thumb into a spot— “here, but I wanted everything you had so I just had to have the tattoo. I whined and whined until you finally let me have it. And yet, in the end, my mom forgot to take off the plastic so neither of us ended up with the damn tattoo and we were both pissed.” Smiling against his back, you readjusted your grip on him, holding him closer than before, perhaps so close your souls could almost touch. “Your mom made us hold hands until we got over it.”

And with a small smile on your face, you heard it . . .

His heart rate had started to slow, his breathing becoming more controlled as he tried his hardest to breathe in deep and exhale long. Was it? Was it working? OK. OK. Speak more. Speak—

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop crying, meanwhile, I won that thing in a raffle,” he interrupted before you could rack your brain for another memory.

Wetting your lips, you replied, “But it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes danced around the room, the memory almost as clear as day. The smile on your face grew. “We were sitting by the fire, getting way too messy with those s’mores you swore you knew how to make.”

“We camped outside the entire night,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as a small laugh escaped him.

“Yeah, until you almost pissed your pants because you thought you heard a bear,” you remarked, the smile on your face too wide to contain.

“Hey!” he quipped back as his hand fell to your arm. “I was like nine.”

In shock, you watched as Jungkook slowly raised his hands to cover your arms, hugging them to his chest. Then, you rested your ear against his chest, and you realized his heartbeat had returned almost to normal . . . and . . . and . . . his breathing had calmed. And then you saw it, a drop of . . . something had wet his shirt where your cheek laid . . . and you realized . . . you were crying.

Was this softness that you felt? Or weakness?

The truth was: you didn’t care. Not now.

Quickly, you wiped your damp cheeks on your shoulder and sniffled. “Scaredy cat,” you mumbled with a soft laugh.

Jungkook breathed out a laugh through his nose. “Brat,” he hummed as he squeezed your forearm.

A beat of silence met the two of you then. You nestled closer, holding him until he finally gave you the go-ahead that he was alright. You’d stay there all night if you had to. And he welcomed this with open arms, holding you as close as he could in his position, and just letting things . . . be, it seemed.

Until, finally, after what seemed like hours, he whispered against your forearm, “I’m sorry.”

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your brows pinched together, confusion revisiting you as you asked, “For what?”

“You don’t need this,” was his only answer.

Another beat of silence.

And then: “You’ll always be unhappy when it comes to me.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, your only response was to hug him tighter. Fuck.

It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard.

As the night droned on, writings upon writings popped into your head as you tried to make sense of this, of tonight, of everything; one, in particular, visited you too frequently to be ignored; one that you had held onto for years now. You supposed it was a silly thing—realizing just how many poems you had trapped in your head, but you had three years of isolation, three years of loneliness, three years where you only read and read and read. Those three years . . . poems had been all you had.

You supposed it would always end this way.

I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the man’s mouth sealing my mouth, the man’s paralyzing body—

And like the poem stated, these words remained true to you. You hated many things, perhaps too much. In those three years, you had grown to hate another’s touch, perhaps because you craved it so viscerally. But . . . the scent of mock orange wasn’t in the form of a man for you. To you . . . the scent of mock orange smelled a lot like a badminton racket.

and the cry that always escapes, the low, humiliating premise of union—

Perhaps you had grown to hate badminton. You hadn’t even realized it, but . . . looking back at it now . . . you had done everything to be someone . . . to be the best, and you had wanted that. You had really wanted that. Sometimes you thought it was the only thing that would ever make you happy, but . . .

But . . .

In my mind tonight I hear the question and pursuing answer fused in one sound that mounts and mounts and then is split into the old selves, the tired antagonisms. Do you see? We were made fools of. And the scent of mock orange drifts through the window.

But perhaps . . . like growing pains . . . a part of you had outgrown badminton. Could this be real? Could you really have outgrown the one thing you had ever loved? And if you truly had . . . what did that mean for you now?

How can I rest? How can I be content when there is still that odor in the world?

That odor.

That damned odor of mock orange blossoms.

. . . You had smelt them the day of the incident. The stench had followed you to the hospital, crawling under your skin and resting there for the months to follow. They hadn't even bloomed then, yet you still smelt them every time you breathed. When your heart felt less heavy and your mind was clearer than the day before, when it became month after month after month, the scent finally rid itself from your senses. And you thought you might have actually been allowed to rest without that odor in the world.

But as another month melted into the next, and you tried to get back onto your feet again, the scent of mock orange drifted back into your life. You, of course, ignored this, eager to get back on your feet. You’d been able to take a few steps, which eased the ache you had been carrying around for the past few months. You knew it was stupid to imagine you could actually be healed after a few months, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to walk again . . . maybe run . . . maybe play again with a racket in your hand.

It was nice—being able to dream for a few minutes.

But it did only last for a short time. Soon you being you had gotten too cocky in your progress. You wanted to try longer walks. You wanted to see if you could run.

Then as you ignored the warning signs from your parents, from your doctors, from your nurses, the second they allowed you out on the hospital courtyard, you took off, attempting to run. But . . . before you knew it, something snapped and . . . you were tumbling to the ground, crying in pain.

And just like that . . . the scent of mock orange drifted in and remained in the air.

You remembered just laying there after that, contemplating just how much this would set you back as the nurses hurried you back to your room to be examined. You wondered if you had fucked yourself entirely. You wondered if this was it and you would never be able to play or even walk again. You wondered what that made you now. You might as well have not even been a person anymore, because back then . . . badminton had been all that you had. Back then, if you weren’t the best; if you weren’t someone great, then you were nothing.

And yes, you knew you had never been particularly interesting, but you never thought you were . . . nothing. The scent of mock orange tainting the air reminded you of the truth—without badminton, you might as well have been no one.

As you were escorted back to your room, examined, and left to rest, you laid there, the scent of mock orange being your sole company, and you realized you hated them. You hated those stupid, putrid flowers as you hated feeling . . . less. You hated them as you hated yourself.

Guilt might have been your ghost, but the scent of mock orange was your shadow.

How could you rest? How could you be content when there was still that odor in the world?

You were sure you never would.

And truly . . . how could you rest? If you were constantly trying to be better and better? When would you finally be the best? Could you be? No . . . no, you knew you couldn’t, but then who were you?

Who were you without . . . badminton?

That was the question on your mind as you flicked at your ramyeon with your chopsticks. You supposed like the mock orange blossoms, your coming-of-age escapades did not deliver the fruits of its promise. Becoming someone was all you had ever wanted out of life. You wanted glory. You wanted greatness. And yet . . . why did the thought of badminton slowly and slowly start to turn into this . . . dark thing? Why was it that when badminton was involved . . . bad things happened?

Now, you didn’t believe in signs and you surely wouldn’t start now . . . but it became evident that you had been made a fool of, wishing on a shooting star that was on its last breath. The scent of mock orange would drift in every time, reminding you that you would never reach that greatness again no matter how many times you tried.

And that should’ve filled you with rage . . . jealousy . . . pain . . . but . . . you didn’t feel any of that. What you felt, at its core, was a gentle ache in your chest; the same kind of ache which came with nostalgia.

You just couldn’t stop thinking of it. Actually . . . you hadn’t stopped thinking about that scent of mock orange since you saw Jimin earlier that night. He’d told you Taehyung had loved badminton the most . . . he told you he was a ghost of himself now because of what he lost. And then you began to think of what had happened to you . . .

Those three years . . .

All you had ever thought about was getting back to the person you used to be. That was all you had cared about, and when you finally won that first game all those months ago . . . you had felt that same joy that you had always felt after a win. Except . . . this was different, you realized.

Remembering the win now, the image of you smashing the birdie down onto the court wasn’t what came to mind first. No, you remembered that day; you remembered the thrill of the win, but the image that came to mind first was Jungkook smiling down at you moments before you sprung into his arms.

Jungkook was what you remembered that day, not the look on the other team’s faces when you took home that winning title. And then you realized what you had been trying to ignore ever since you let your walls come down layer by layer: perhaps . . . perhaps there was more to life than badminton.

In the months you had let Jungkook in, you’d lived more than you had in your entire life. You’d laughed more, smiled more, felt more. You’d felt yourself be more.

The scent of mock orange never visited you when he was around. It was like he was the real thing. You weren’t even sure if that made any sense. But . . . but . . . if you couldn’t smell those damned phony flowers, then perhaps Jungkook had taken their place. By chance . . . did he smell like an orange blossom? Without mocking, without malice, without trickery? Was he . . . real?

There was just something about the world that Jungkook had shown you that had a way of making everything just . . . mute. It was like before he’d shown you life through his eyes, everything had been loud, intense, brutal. And then . . . there he was, a bright smile on his face and the words ‘trust me’ leaving his lips as he held out his hand for you to take.

And you took it every time.

The scent of mock orange blossoms was left behind. And you began to wonder if just as you had outgrown your hatred for Jungkook . . . had you outgrown this visceral urge to hold a racket in your calloused hand?

Glancing down, you took in the image of your hand. The calluses were still there, the small cuts from accidental injuries, the bitten nails . . . they were all still there. Did they still fit around the base of a racket as they had three years ago?

You blinked, flexing your hand. Whatever, you decided. It would be tomorrow’s problem. (But we all know how good you were about . . . not . . . getting in over your head (so like, give yourself five minutes and you’d be thinking about it again).)

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

Anyway.

Focus on the present.

Yes, that was the plan. You nodded at your thoughts as you blinked, forcing yourself back to the present.

The scent of mock orange blossoms still lingered in the air as you tried grounding yourself to reality. Ignoring them was the best you could do. Because right now, you were supposed to be present, aware, and solid. You were supposed to be Jungkook’s shoulder to lean on after what he had endured at the karaoke bar. You were supposed to know what to do . . . but you didn’t know anything. You just . . . you just wanted him to be alright . . .

And all you could focus on was the fact that the two of you hadn’t spoken since you held him about—

You checked your phone.

—an hour and a half ago.

It had been quiet between the two of you ever since. It had been even quieter the second you stepped inside the nearest convenience store. (Who knew how long ago that was.)

The convenience store was perhaps too quiet now. The two of you had bought some instant ramyeon—one spicy, one mild and sat at the nearest tables outlooking the streets of Busan. Many people had walked back and forth, going about their night (well . . . now early morning), but not once had either of you decided to make little guesses about their lives as you had done many times before. No instead . . . Jungkook was silent. And you were too.

But . . . you didn’t like the silence; not like . . . this. Slowly, with that thought plaguing your mind, you turned your head toward him.

Jungkook sat beside you, his head lowered slightly as he stared blankly out the window. He hadn’t touched his ramyeon once, which was evident as his chopsticks were all too clean without any stain or color. He just kept staring out the window, following those who walked by with his eyes all the while his tongue toyed with his lip ring.

It was obvious why he was stuck in this limbo. Sure, of course it was all too obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing why he was stuck like this wouldn’t do anything to . . . help.

And suddenly you were reminded of what Jimin had told you that night. Remember to live for yourself, too, he’d said before you left him. He’d told you it was impossible to live for two, but . . . why? Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you at least . . . help? You supposed the problem in that was the fact that you had no idea how to help, and that scared you more than you’d liked to admit.

You just . . . you just wanted him to be OK . . .

“You gonna eat that?” you heard yourself ask him before you knew what you were even saying.

Jungkook turned to you instantly with an almost shocked expression on his face as if he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was, but his eyes still shined with recognition as if he could still recognize you despite it all. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over your face, and then . . . then he slowly started to relax. His shoulders slumped slightly as the stiff muscles in his face loosened. And once he returned to the present, his eyes drifted from your questioning expression to the ramyeon in front of him . . . and then he was shoving a huge bite into his mouth all the while maintaining eye contact with you while he chewed.

You shot him a blank look, because you knew what he was doing—avoiding the inevitable by trying to make light of the situation. “I wasn’t going to force-feed it to you, you know?” you ended up mumbling as you continued to watch him chew, half making sure he ate all of it and half not sure where to rest your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that then,” Jungkook muttered, his words muffled from the food in his mouth.

“Like what?” you questioned as you leaned closer to him, analyzing the crease between his furrowed brows.

His eyes shifted to the ground ever so slightly before he turned back to meet your gaze. “Like you pity me or something,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip into a pout as he averted his gaze to his bowl of ramyeon.

And you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth perk up into a small smile. He was still the boy you remembered when you were kids. He hadn’t changed too much. He was still . . . him. Only now, you had grown to appreciate how he was unlike in the past. Now . . . when he flashed you that pout, you wasted no time in waving him off with a small sigh.

“Oh, Jungkookie,” you all but mused as you grabbed a napkin from the table, “sometimes it’s like you’re still that whiny little kid I grew up with.” You brought the napkin to his lips, gently dabbing. “You really haven’t changed at all, you know?”

With his eyes flicking from the napkin to your face, he timidly licked his lips and mumbled, “I was not whiny.”

You breathed a small, barely audible laugh. “Mmm, if it helps you sleep at night,” you hummed with a small shrug as your hand, now discarding the napkin, reached his face once again, except this time, you barely thought about your next move. Instead, you let your hand drift to his hair gently curling the long, dark strands behind his ear.

And he just stared at you, his dark eyes warm and gentle as they always had been. His brows twitched as you alternated between playing with his earrings and toying with the longest strands of his hair. He almost seemed . . . at peace, and you wondered if this could be considered a moment of happiness?

Perhaps . . .

It was moments like this that you wondered how the sick smell of mock orange blossoms had ever ruined your life.

But like the poem described . . . the smell wasn’t something to be forgotten. It eventually seeped back in. And just as Jungkook had almost allowed himself to sink into your touch, his eyes turned back to the window where he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

It was almost soul-crushing how fast his face fell.

Jungkook took one last look at his reflection, shaking his head slightly as he averted his gaze to the table and clenched his jaw. "Fuck,” he whispered out, his voice hoarse, “this is so fucking annoying. Everything feels so off. I just . . . “ His words tangled around his tongue as he dropped his head to his hands. “Everyone always looks at me like I'm some fucking problem. Like if they get to my core, they can fix me. But I can't be fucking fixed. I fucked up. I ruined my best friend’s life. I don't deserve to be fixed."

And suddenly it was as if you were twelve years old again, seeing your mother cry for the first time and not knowing what to do or what to say. You had grown up that way—not being able to comfort. It had always been who you were. You’d never known what to do to . . . help.

Yes, you could follow the directions of some online article and you could ask and ask and ask how to help him, but would it ever be enough? And what if he said he was fine when he was so clearly not? What then? How were you supposed to help then?

God, you wished you knew the answers.

“You’re not broken, Koo,” you started with, your voice just as small as how you felt in that moment.

“What if I am?” he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head, and for another time that night, you faced that crushed look on his face. For another time that night, you saw the things he had been dealing with all on his own. You saw him. “What if I . . . ?”

And then you realized: you didn’t know how to comfort, but you did know how to bear things well. You knew how to crumble up the pain of not being good enough. You knew how to deal with a dream being crushed. You knew how to just . . . deal, and if Jungkook needed help, you could carry the load for him.

So, swallowing your own emotions bubbling up in your throat, you began slowly, "I know I can’t say . . . anything. I know that no matter what I do it's not gonna' make you feel better, because shit doesn't work that way. I'm not some fuckin' hero. I know that. You just need to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never leaving your side." Nodding your head, you could feel your eyes burning again. But you didn’t care. The world could see you cry for him and only him and you’d accept it with a heavy heart.

A beat of silence followed your confession.

The world exhaled.

You inhaled as you rested your hand on top of his moments before you began again, "You're—I care about you. . . and—and that means that no matter what time it is, if you feel like you're gonna do something to yourself, then you call me. We can go throw shit off a bridge or—or punch dummies. You need to scream? Then we can go scream until our lungs bleed, okay? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just—" you squeezed his hand as your heart pulsed in pain in your chest— "You're not alone."

Though the expression on his face didn’t lift, Jungkook accepted your hand, taking it within his grasp to intertwine your fingers together with his. “It’s been months . . . and I still feel like this . . . “ he trailed off, gently shaking his head as he turned back to his reflection in the window.

Instantly, your free hand found his cheek, slowly turning his head so his eyes would only face yours. “I don’t think healing is . . . linear,” you admitted softly. “If I think about it . . . it took me years to be able to play again. Mental shit has to be like that too, right?”

His eyes fluttered shut under your touch. “I don’t know,” he softly sighed as his other hand reached to rest over the one you had caressing his cheek. “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” He swallowed thickly. “I just . . . it’s like . . . I watch everyone else live their lives while I endure mine. And—And I don't know what to do. Sometimes everything just gets so intense, and it just happens. It's like it's some fucked up kind of instinct. Trust me, I wish I could feel something other than this, but I don't feel anything. It's all fucking numb." He nearly dropped your hand, but you clung on tighter, refusing to let him slip through your fingers. "I don't fucking know what I feel. I just . . . I feel like a fucking ghost."

And for the second time that night, you watched the once never-bothered Jungkook reveal another layer of himself to you.

I feel like a fucking ghost, rang in your ears again.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes tight and slowly . . . a single tear trickled from the corner of his eye down the side of his nose.

I feel like a fucking ghost, once more, and you knew the words which would leave your lips before you even had the chance to think.

"Haunt me, then," you found yourself breathing out in a hushed whisper as your thumb caught his fallen tear, wiping it away with ease.

His eyes cracked open, a shocked expression crawling onto his face. "What?” he barely got out as he searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you hadn’t meant to say . . . that.

But you had.

Haunt me, you’d told him, and you knew you’d meant it. The words didn’t have to cross your mind for you to know what you spoke was the truth.

Haunt me.

Give it to me, and breathe.

That is what you had wanted to say. That is what you had meant. You could only hope he knew you were telling the truth.

Tilting your head to the side, you breathed out the air in your lungs. "I told you before, and I meant it,” you began in a gentle tone. “I'll carry the weight for you. All of the pain, the anger, the hatred . . . all of it . . . I will carry it all. Give it all to me, and I will find a way to deal with it." Squeezing his hand once again, you offered up a small smile. "You're not alone anymore, Kook. You do not have to deal with all your shit on your own. You've got me, and you can hate me, you can push me away, you can leave me stranded with no way home . . . but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

His brows twitched. “I can’t do that. You’ve got too much to think about.”

You shrugged with a roll of your eyes as you dropped your hand to your intertwined ones. “Like what? I’ve never thought a day in my life. Barely passed college with a 2.7,” you hummed, your voice a little more chipper now as you tried to keep his eyes on you and coax a smile out of him. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“The games,” he muttered with a small sniffle. “You’re shit at multitasking.”

That time, you did smile wider. There he was. “I can manage,” you mused as you leaned into him, nudging him with your elbow. “How about let’s go feed the fish by our hotel after practice tomorrow, hmm? To relax? Yeah?”

And then . . . you could have sworn he nodded. Maybe it was to himself or maybe it was to you, but you knew what it meant. You would accept a nod.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked a second later, gesturing to the half-eaten bowl of ramyeon in front of you.

And you knew he would be OK by your side. You would make sure of it. (You were the older one after all.)

So with a small smile still on your face, you detached your hands from his and reached for your bowl, scooting it toward him. Quietly, he took it from you and began to devour what you had left.

Yeah . . . he was still the same kid you knew growing up. And that . . . that was enough to make your heart feel warm.

It made you wonder if you could ever be . . . warm . . . like him. Unlike this cold, hollow shell you were so used to. Was that even written in your books?

Wetting your lips, your eyes fell to your lap, only to be met with the image of Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, secured under the holes in your ripped jeans. It seemed without you noticing, Jungkook had absentmindedly reached for you, toying with the strings adorning the rips in your jeans, only to end up nestled underneath in an attempt to feel your skin against his.

It was sweet. Innocent.

It made you feel warm, yet again, yes. But it also made you feel . . . fuck . . . what was that word?

And that was when you realized something . . .

“You’re wrong, you know?” you ended up muttering out before your brain could catch up with your impulse.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you. His eyes were still slightly puffy, causing your heart to swell in your chest.

How could he ever think he deserved this?

Wetting your lips, you confessed, “I’m a better person because of you. How could I ever be unhappy with that?”

Jungkook blinked, clearly shocked. Then, he began to toy with his lip ring before he sucked in a sharp inhale and nearly whispered, “All I want . . . is for you to be happy.”

And you couldn’t help but smile. It was warm. It was innocent. It was because of him. “Would you look at that?” you mused in a quiet voice. “Looks like we just came to an agreement.”

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as he nodded once before the two of you resumed your late-night slash early-morning meal. He finished your food for you, and you watched, making sure he ate it all, all the while, the words, I’m a better person because of you rang throughout the air.

I’m a better person because of you.

How could I ever be unhappy with that?

And you knew you meant every word.

The scent of mock orange blossoms couldn’t reach you now.

Not here.

Not with him.

When you were a kid, every Barbie doll your mother ever bought you would end up scalped and decapitated. Now . . . morbid . . . you knew. You weren’t exactly sure why you resorted to . . . that, but playing with dolls just always meant ripping their heads off. You supposed it was kind of symbolic now.

Maybe you were jealous that their lives were perfect and yours was . . . meh. Or maybe you really just really hated dolls.

You supposed there had always been a certain sickness to you; a certain uneasiness that came with being a preteen girl. You were told sweet sixteen was when the claws came out, but you began to question if yours had grown in long before then. Maybe you had been born like . . . this or maybe everyone just felt this way and spent most of their lives hiding it, because if not . . .

. . . it felt like life was just some sick joke that you hadn’t clued in on yet.

Perhaps that was why you had become so keen on poetry: it said what you feared only you felt.

Because really, you used to use pages out of books to fasten a joint in a pinch, too, and now it physically hurt to imagine ever even tearing a page.

But words felt more comforting now. Sure, a racket felt like it fit into you like a hook in an eye, but now . . . now it felt just a tad more awkward than it had in the past. Words . . . words could never disappoint you, you decided long ago when they had been all that you had had.

There’s something soft in me—

You remembered reading long ago.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.

And maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dramatic, but words made things feel better. It made the world less scary. It made looking at Jungkook and wondering what this feeling in your chest was . . . not so scary. It made things . . . better.

So, you’d read, and you’d overanalyze, and you’d spend your time too wrapped up in words because it made everything that much bearable. Because it made the fact that your claws didn’t come in at sixteen so much easier to swallow; it made the fact that there was nothing soft about you alright.

Because maybe there had been something soft about you long ago. Or maybe you had killed it; maybe you had taken the softness and traded it for survival, only to discover all the rot inside of you that you had been trying to ignore for years now.

Had the fire gotten a hold of you even back then?

Is that why you no longer feared it? Because there was nothing left to fear? Did all this rot mean you were no different from a hit deer off the highway?

. . .

Whatever.

It didn’t mean much, right?

There were no birds coming to feast on your rotting corpse like the deer you wondered if you resembled. Nothing had come to consume your body as the world had consumed your soul. You were just there . . .

With a sigh, you clicked off your phone, disregarding the poem as you shoved it all away into the back of the pocket of your athletic shorts. And as you stood there, you slowly glanced up only to meet the image of Jungkook walking toward you, a half-smile on his tired face with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a racket in his hand. You hadn’t seen him since you woke up that morning, quickly dressed and told him you’d meet him at the center after your run. And there he was, his hair in a small ponytail with a grin on his face at the sight of you. (You tried to ignore the urge to meet him halfway. (Also ignoring this . . . weird feeling blooming in your chest the second you saw him.))

“Well, it seems the sun’s decided to come out after all,” were the first words out of his mouth as he drew closer. And only then did you realize the day was dreary, filled with dark clouds and humid spring air.

Tearing your eyes from the clouds above, your gaze landed on Jungkook just as he stopped before you, setting his duffel bag on the pavement beside you. He wasted no time either, poking your abdomen with his racket. “Bad day already?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in thought.

Sighing, you shook your head. “No, just . . . thinking.”

“Well, stop, it’s aging you,” he lightly scolded.

You squinted your eyes into a glare. “You’re on one today.”

And well . . . all he did was wink. Of course.

Now . . . you knew how this looked. Just last night you and him were up into the early morning nursing each other’s wounds and now it seemed like it hadn’t even happened, but there was a reason for that. The two of you knew each other. He appreciated that you didn’t make it a big thing. You were always going to be there for him; that much was obvious by now given your history with each other. But if there was one thing the two of you both hated, it was being treated as if you were as fragile as glass. So for now . . . last night was a little secret between the two of you, and right now . . . right now you both had to get your heads in the game for the finals tomorrow.

So there . . . that was that. At least that was how it was for you. You were sure it was the same for him, but it wasn’t like you could think about that right now either. Right now you had to think of the tournament as draining as it felt to even acknowledge it.

But just as you were about to move past it all and grab your own duffle bag from the ground, Jungkook halted you with a hand on your wrist. Your eyes immediately snapped to his.

“You sure you’re good?” he questioned once more, his eyes wider now, more concerned than before.

(There’s something soft in me—

But you couldn’t burden him now. Not after what he went through last night. Because you knew him, and you knew he’d do anything to make things right for you . . . even if it meant ignoring his own troubles. And well, despite what you liked to claim, you couldn’t bear to do that to him.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.)

So instead, you blurted out: “Just stressed, you know?”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t press it further. “Right . . . “

And that was that. You didn’t let another word pass between the two of you as you picked up both your duffel bag and his and began to walk toward the training center. Jungkook, of course, fought you the entire way, trying to grab the duffel bags from your hands, but you insisted, tsking at him as he tried to outsmart you (as if he ever could).

While he repeatedly tried to snatch at least one bag from your grasp, your eyes were training on the scene in front of you. And it was only when the two of you turned the corner, now facing the center head-on, that you realized maybe the dark clouds had been a sign telling you to turn back; to stay inside; to practice somewhere else. Jungkook, on the other hand, was preoccupied, as, in your shock, he managed to snatch both duffel bags from your grasp. And he was mighty proud of himself too until he heard what you had seen . . . and slowly the grin fell from his lips as he turned to face the scene.

Because before the two of you, crowding in front of the training center were reporters on top of reporters with their big flashy cameras and notepads, and . . . behind them, spray painted across the building was your name . . . with the words ‘is a traitor’ too big not to notice.

There’s something soft in me—

we killed it and it’s rotting.

It happened in slow motion. The reporters caught sight of the two of you, and that was it. They were racing toward you in seconds, all screaming this and that, trying to get a story, and all you could do was stare in a state of confusion and shock as if you were waiting for a car to pop out of nowhere and hit you.

Off the highway like another deer.

You’d never seen something like it. Sure, you’d seen this stuff in movies, but never in real life, never because of . . . you. There had been articles published when you fell out of the badminton scene three years ago, but never something like this. Never something like this. Fuck, even the interview you’d done as a team were never like . . . this.

Off the highway like another girl.

What was . . . this?

It was bad. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t hear anything. You could see Jungkook growing angry beside you, pushing the reporters back as he said . . . something . . . but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.

You should have known better. You should've known there was a chance something bad would happen. Because like always, when you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, when the dark clouds came out and the air felt wet but chilly but humid . . . something bad always happened. But you hadn't thought that the world would be so cruel, especially the day before the end.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to—

You felt the world caving in on you. You felt small. Small and disgusting. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to run, but you couldn't. Your mind had been the only thing to stay alert. Just run, you thought. Run. Run. Fucking run.

But you couldn't. You wanted to but the camera kept flashing and the reporters kept yelling and yelling and yelling and all you could make out was that everyone hated you. Suddenly, it was three years ago and everyone was pretending to be nice to you, then bitching about you behind your back. Suddenly, you were falling. Your hip was hurting. You were screaming and nobody cared. Nobody cared. Nobody—and then you were pushing everyone away again. Suddenly, you were alone again. And then you felt it. You felt it all, and then . . . then you couldn't breathe.

I can't breathe. You tried gasping for air, but it never stuck in your lungs. I can't breathe. You could have sworn this was what drowning felt like as your breaths came out quicker and quicker. Oh, my God, I can't fucking breathe.

You needed air. You needed to run.

Your eyes darted to the training center, and you knew what you had to do. You forced your legs to move as you tried to make it to the center. You’d be inside in a minute; you just needed a second. One second and you could breathe again.

But before you could even really move to make it, a hand was on your shoulder, and it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. No, it wasn’t a comforting touch; it was the touch of a reporter trying to make you stay in place just for you to answer their question. There was no making it out of this.

Glancing up, your eyes met the reporter’s and then you finally heard the words you’d been drowning out all morning: “Are the bribing rumors true?”

All air escaped your lungs. Bribing? You? “What?” you weakly asked (you’d never sounded like this before in your life, and yet . . . ).

But before anything else could escalate, Jungkook was stepping in front of you. His body blocked yours from the reporters, his hand carefully resting on your hip as he tucked you behind him while he mumbled, “Don’t bother—”

“What—” you blurted out before you could stop yourself— “What rumors?”

You just . . . you wanted to know. Bribing? All you’d ever done in your career was try to be the best. You’d put blood and tears and sweat and everything into badminton, and this . . . this was how it repaid you. You’d fucked up your leg for it; fucked up your life; fucked up everything just to hold a fucking racket in your hand and now they wanted to say that you bribed your way into . . . into what? Success? You wanted to know the truth. You wanted to know.

But no one bothered giving you an answer. It was just question after question, confusing you more and more, and all you could come to the conclusion was the fact that the whole world must have thought you were as horrible as a person as you feared you were.

So, the final person asked, “Do you have anything to say?”

And all you could fathom was: “I—” you swallowed hard— “I . . . don’t care.”

That was it.

I don’t care, you’d said even though you did, because you always had. You cared too much. Too fucking much. And you were too much. And this was too much. And just . . . just . . .

You didn’t bother thinking further. Your mind went blank as you tore yourself from the scene. Dropping your racket to the ground, you took a step backward.

. . . And then you were gone.

Run, you’d told yourself, and finally, you listened.

And as you ran, you realized, things were easy for you when you could ignore them. If you spent your time worrying about everyone else, then there would be no more time left to worry about yourself. You supposed that was an issue on its own, but that was how you survived.

A burnt child loves the fire. Yes, and you did. You loved it because it meant you’d have one more reason to survive. Survive enough and you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Just keep surviving the fire. That . . . that was what you were good at.

But you didn’t know how to deal with . . . this.

This wasn’t a fire. Far from it.

It was almost as if you were stuck at the bottom of a lake, your foot trapped under a rock, unable to get to the surface. And no matter how hard you fought to unsheath yourself, you stayed trapped at the bottom, water threatening to clog your air pipes.

And the thing they don’t tell you about drowning: it only takes forty seconds.

Forty seconds turned into minutes then an hour, and you began to wonder how long you had been left at the bottom of that lake. How long until the water finally reached your lungs?

It was about half an hour ago when you’d finally found the pond just outside the hotel your team was staying in, that you’d finally searched up whatever the fuck had gotten you in so much shit.

Yunis Doubles Player Accused of Bribing Referee to Make Nationals, was the headline. Apparently, an anonymous inside source had come forward and claimed that you’d not only bribed your way into winning each tournament for your team, but on top of that, you were also taking whatever drug to help with your fucked leg.

And get this . . . apparently it was because once you won finals, you’d go on to sign for Russia, leaving Korea behind, essentially making yourself a traitor. So there it was. In less than a day, you were a traitor, a drug abuser, and a cheat. Because apparently, that was true.

Whatever . . . it didn’t matter anyway. Even though it wasn’t true, the media had made it so, so it was by default. And as if badminton hadn’t already been feeling like a chore, your love for it lessened and lessened into . . . this hate.

That was what you felt: hate. Had you become hatred now?

Had you become a ghost, too? . . . Had you always been? . . .

“Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for,” you heard a voice say in a joking manner behind you just as you tossed another rock into the large pond below your dangling feet. (The voice had startled you all the same, nearing skyrocketing the rock out of your grasp, but we don’t dwell on that.)

Still . . .

. . . you didn’t jump. There was no need to. Startled or not, there was no need to fear. You knew that voice, and it only ever filled you with comfort, nothing else.

So instead of answering, you dropped your head in shame, eyes on the koi fish swimming idly through the water below you as your hands tightened around the edge of the rickety bridge.

Jungkook had found you. Somehow he always managed to make his way back to you, no matter how many times you pushed him away.

(It used to be annoying. Now it was just . . . well . . . it was something else now. It had grown into something . . . more . . .)

His footsteps grew closer. He was behind you now. Close, yet still so very distant.

Silence for only a beat more.

And then, he spoke.

“I was trying to find an excuse to come find you,” he murmured, his words unexpecting of a response as he sat down beside you, dangling his feet over the edge of the bridge.

And you . . . you stayed still, peeking at him through the corner of your eye. Sure enough, he was real, and he was sitting there dressed in his athletic clothes, some of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, while he held in his hands two pieces of . . . bread (?).

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Bread was your excuse?” you questioned, your voice quiet.

Jungkook glanced between you and the bread, then back at you until he settled on the bread, tapping a finger to the loaves. “Ah . . . right . . . well . . . buy one, get one free,” he curtly explained. His eyes drifted back to you, then, as he wet his lips and sighed. “You talked about wanting to feed the fish.” Add in a shrug. “Thought this might be where I’d find you . . . so—“ a clearing of his throat— “Just—Are you OK?”

And you couldn’t help it. You took him up on his offer, silently grabbing a loaf of bread from his hands and resting it on your lap. Your eyes followed it the entire way, watching as your hand began to rip a small piece from the corner. “I think,” you finally replied to his question just as you tossed the piece of bread into the water. “I can’t force people to believe me. So—” pausing for a second, you watched as two koi fought over the piece of bread— “whatever, right?”

Jungkook plucked a piece of the bread off, but instead of throwing it to the fish, he plopped it into his mouth, chewing in contemplation. “You were always the best player,” he mumbled through the mouthful. Plucking off another piece, he waved it in your direction, gesturing to you. “They can’t take that away.”

Maybe it was the sentiment or maybe it was how he’d begun to eat the bread he brought solely to feed the fish, but you couldn’t help but fight off a smile. Because when times were like this, you felt fine; you felt . . . almost good, but when you were out there neck-and-neck, trying to hit the birdie again and again, you felt . . . off.

It made you realize that one: badminton didn’t feel like it used to and two: you weren’t entirely sure that the accusation itself was the reason behind your anger. Because maybe it was easier to be angry or sad. It always had been.

But as you ripped off another piece of bread to throw to the fish, it hit you. You weren’t exactly hard to figure out you’d like to think, so really, put two and two together and you get one burnt-out badminton player looking for an excuse to quit.

Fuck.

It really was that, wasn’t it?

You didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to believe it either because badminton was your life. There was no without. Like a hook in an eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. You couldn’t escape it.

But now . . . after years and years of trying to get back to that same person you were before the accident, you’d ignored just how draining it had begun to feel to practice and practice and try and try and . . . try. You mistook it for physical fatigue; for healing from your injury. You didn’t once think that your disinterest may have been because you had grown further and further apart from a racket in your hand and the sound of the court squeaking under your shoes. And when that reporter asked you if you’d cheated to get back in the game . . . you’d taken that chance to run away; to ruin it for yourself once more . . . and this time not for the sake of self-sabotage but perhaps . . . conservation.

So you began to ask yourself the same question that had been haunting you for a while now: how well did badminton still fit into you? You’d thought about it last night. You thought about it a million times before, refusing to acknowledge it, and now . . .

Then you found yourself turning to Jungkook. “What—” you sucked in a quick breath— “What made you want to play badminton? . . . In the beginning . . . “

Setting the bread aside, he leaned forward, resting his forearm against the lower part of the railing. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled as he rested his cheek against his forearm. “It was just . . . easy for me. I liked being good at things.”

“But . . . “ (you had begun to toy with the bread instead of tossing it to the fish) “ . . . why did you love it?”

A few beats of silence.

Beat.

Then, Jungkook spoke: “The people, I think,” he finally said in a calm, collected tone, adding in a shrug at the end of his sentence. “I never really cared about being someone special; I just when I played, I always played with friends. It was fun. I think when I look back on it, it wasn’t badminton that I loved, it was the people. My friends . . . coaches . . . “ his eyes flashed to meet yours, “. . . you.” And he maintained eye contact. “It was the only time I ever felt happy, and when I grew up . . . when badminton felt more like a game of loss . . . it lost its magic. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Everyone had grown up and I was still there, on that court. . . . It wasn’t fun anymore . . . “

Oh.

Because, truly, you’d felt the same. Well . . . perhaps a tad different. Badminton had been fun for you because you always won. It was the only time you felt . . . special, good . . . worth . . . something. And when you lost it all, you felt like nothing upon nothing upon shit. So when you finally gained it all back, it was almost as if with each win, that magic Jungkook spoke up washed away bit by bit. Winning wasn’t fun anymore; it was being with him that made it worth . . . something.

But could winning itself ever have the same effect as it did years ago? Would you ever crave it so violently again?

“Do you think it could ever be fun again?” you voiced your thoughts aloud, hesitant as if admitting this aloud was some kind of sin.

“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered with another shrug. His attention was drawn on the fish now, his round, brown eyes following them as they swam to and fro. “But—” he breathed in heavily— “if I had it my way . . . I’d go back home and help run my parents’ shop.” There was that smile creeping up on his face again at the mention of home. “And if I really had it my way, I’d be thirteen again and I’d never grow up. I’d be small and happy and I’d never have to leave home again. That is what I truly want; to be that kid again . . . but for right now . . . I think I’d settle with just going home, knowing my mom’s special dish is waiting for me.”

Home.

He spoke of it so fondly, and you began to wonder if you’d ever loved it as much as he did. Now, you knew you did. Your parents were good, kind people. They were good parents. You loved them, missed them, but home had never been something that you’d acknowledged if that made any sense. You were just always looking forward to the future and who you’d become. You supposed you never stopped to take in the lines drawn onto the bathroom wall labeling your height year after year. You supposed you never stopped to catch sight of the way your mom would shave off the skin of the apple because she knew you didn’t like getting it in your teeth. You supposed you never thought of home as home because you always knew it’d be there, and now . . . now it was far far away and you were so so small, no longer great and big, and looking forward to the future.

It made you wonder if this feeling deep inside you had something to do with missing this home Jungkook spoke of. And then you began to agree that, yes, yes you would very much like to be small again, coming home from badminton practice to the smell of your mother’s cooking and your father’s tunes playing on the CD player.

Perhaps . . . perhaps you wished you were little again, too. And perhaps you wished you could start over, this time with badminton as more of a love than a state of survival . . . and maybe then you’d know more of this . . . home.

“Kook . . . “ you began, eyes darting from fish to fish as your thoughts raced, “if I admit something . . . do you promise not to judge?”

Jungkook hummed moments before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “What’s on your mind, hmm?” he mused, nudging you with his elbow as if telling you to go on.

Another few beats of silence. (It was odd how it kept lurking over your shoulder like a vice.)

And then: wetting your lips, you swallowed the weird feeling in your throat, finding it hard to get these words out for some reason. And then . . . when you were sure the silence had begun to eat at your flesh, you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts. “What if . . . what if I don’t love badminton anymore?” you mumbled, your voice nearly inaudible as you heard your words echo in your head again and again. But just like Pandora’s box, once they were spoken, you couldn’t shove them back down. Your words just kept flowing. “I mean . . . I’m—I’m twenty-five years old. All I’ve ever known is badminton. I ruined my life for it. I wasted three years trying to get it back and . . . and . . . and what if I did it for nothing? I wasted my entire life trying to be the best at something that I don’t even like anymore. What am I supposed to do if—if I don’t want it anymore?”

There.

Right there.

There was the truth you’d been hiding from for so long, and it was laid out in front of you, staring back at you.

What if you had wasted your entire life trying to be the best at something you didn’t even like anymore?

It wasn’t even like you wanted an answer from him either. You just needed to say it. You just needed to admit that perhaps you and Jungkook were more similar than either of you had ever thought.

And did that . . . did that give you relief? To be understood in this way?

“I just—“ you blurted out, still trapped inside your head— “It’s like you said. I just . . . maybe I just want to go home. I don’t . . . I don’t want to go to the Olympics or—or anything. I don’t want to be who I was. I just . . . I don’t know if I care to be . . . that anymore.”

A beat of—wait—no, unlike you thought, no silence entered your space. No, instead, Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, baby—” he sighed, his voice like honey moments before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek— “you haven’t changed one bit either. Don’t you know? Violet, roses are red, not blue.” Your eyes met. His filled with understanding, while yours stained in shock. And then . . . then he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, and offered up a small smile. “Where’s your smile? Hmm?”

Instantly, you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, taken off guard by his words. You wet your lips, trying to form any kind of sentence, but nothing ever came. Until you realized something . . . this feeling . . . it wasn’t something you were used to . . . but it was something you’d heard of . . . and it was . . . soft.

You’d never held something like that. You’d never owned something like that either. You’d never been it. You’d always just been machine parts and badminton plays. Strategies upon strategies. Always thinking and thinking and thinking and never just . . . being . . . feeling . . .

Until . . .

. . . until him.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

“I’m so scared,” you heard yourself whisper before you realized it was you who was speaking.

Jungkook furrowed his brows as his eyes trailed across your face before he wiped his thumb across your cheek, then dropped his hand to yours. Only then did you realize you had been crying. Not sobbing or anything close, but a few tears had slipped past, and there he was again wiping them away like it was normal; like it was OK.

“Why are you scared?” he questioned softly as he squeezed your hand.

“Because,” you muttered out with a confused shrug. Hell, you didn’t even really know. You just knew . . . you just knew that: “I’m only still here . . . on this team . . . because of you. I think . . . I think what I like about badminton is . . . you. You’ve made it worth something when it’d lost all meaning to me. And . . . and . . . I think what scares me the most is that . . . is that you’ve made me . . . soft . . . and I can’t tell if I hate that or if I . . . if I’m grateful.” Quickly, you wet your chapped lips. “I’ve had good things in my life. I’ve had success and victory and fame . . . but it all felt like it came with a price. You know? Win a competition and you feel great but what about the next one? It was always just a constant race . . . but being around you . . . it doesn’t feel like I have to win anything. I feel softer and—and it doesn’t even come with a catch. It’s free.” Your eyes searched his. “Am I even allowed to have something like that when I should be obsessing over winning this championship?”

Jungkook leaned closer, taking your hand into both of his as he held it close to his chest similar to how you’d hold a teddy when you were a child. And then . . . he spoke, and you couldn’t believe your ears, wondering if this was the same man you knew when you were young. “Have all of me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as if he wanted you to know he meant this within his soul. “Take my bones and build yourself a home. They’re worn, sure, but I like to think they’re pretty sturdy . . . so . . . take them.” His eyes searched yours deeper. “Take all of me if you have to. Take all of me . . . ”

Blinking slowly, you shot him a look, a small, shocked smile creeping onto your face as you let a sliver of a laugh out before you knew it. “That’s disgusting,” you scolded him, shaking your head at his words, but you couldn’t help but find some sentiment in them. Maybe it was the morbidity to you, but no one had ever said such things to you . . . and you found yourself holding these words close to your chest just as Jungkook held your hand close to his.

He smiled back, too. “Good. I knew it’d make you laugh,” he murmured softly, and you knew this, too. It was him after all. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you, and you began to realize that it had always been that way. (Perhaps you should’ve spent your childhood laughing more than scowling at him.) But it seemed he didn’t mind as he began to rub his thumb back and forth against your knuckles, his smile slowly fading into a solemn expression. And then: “You asked me to haunt you, but you’re the one who haunts me.”

You swallowed hard.

You’re the one who haunts me.

Oh . . .

And then you began to wonder: was Jimin right? He loved you, he had told you. And suddenly, you realized that if this were still true . . . it didn’t bother you. You’d accept it even. But what did that mean for you?

You swallowed hard once again.

“You said I make you feel real again,” he continued on, making you forget your own thoughts as you watched his head tilt to the side in thought, ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to haunt you. I don’t want to poison your softness. I want to make you keep feeling real and soft and . . . you. And . . . and well . . . you make me want to be real again. You–you make me want to be a person, to be something, to make something of the person I am. I don’t want to end up like your King Weir—”

“Lear,” you felt yourself whisper so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. All you could do was stare at him and stare and stare and . . .

“I don’t want to be him,” Jungkook restated. A small pause followed as those warm brown eyes you’d come to be fond of searched yours like you were the only two people left on the planet. “I don’t want to be nothing . . . and you’ve reminded me of that.” Wetting his lips, he reached for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his, his thumbs running across your knuckles. “So I was wondering—” he maintained eye contact, while he gave a quick squeeze to your hands— “if maybe instead . . . well . . . I want you to help me live . . . no haunting necessary.”

I want you to help me live.

It echoed in your ears.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to—

Did he know that he’d given you a whole new reason to keep living? Did he know that when you thought of him, you realized you had another reason to live? Didn’t he realize that it was him? That caring for him had made you a better person?

But Jungkook took your silence as a sign of rejection, so before you could slap yourself up the side of the head, he nearly retreated, quickly muttering out an apology for being . . . weird. Only, this was now and not then, and you were you, and well, you quickly reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. His eyes followed your movements, clearly taken off guard, but you didn’t let him dwell on it too long.

“How about—” you began, running your thumb across the tattoos dotting his fingers— “let’s take care of each other?”

Jungkook blinked once. Then twice. Then . . . then his brows twitched in longing? Understanding? Or . . . oh what was that word?

Whatever.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was his answer. And you already knew it before you’d spoken those words.

OK, he nodded.

OK, he smiled.

OK, your eyes seemed to glisten back.

OK.

There was a time in your life, where every night you’d have the same nightmare. Over and over again, you’d be trapped in this room with no windows, no doors, just darkness. And in the middle of the room would be you, or rather a version of you, strapped to a chair, with flames slowly licking up your legs, scorching your skin. But you wouldn’t feel any pain, because it wasn’t actually you. Sure, it looked like you, but . . . you were on the other side of the room, watching with wide eyes as you heard yourself scream and beg to be released from the shackles.

The flames wouldn’t touch you there. They were around, yes. They were burning holes into your clothes, yes, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could do was sit and watch as this variant of yourself burned alive right before your eyes.

And as if watching yourself be scorched alive wasn’t bad enough, there would be this point in the dream where you, no, she, no . . . it . . . would speak to you. Through the flames, it would hiss and whisper that it was your fault.

It was your fault, and you’d know what it meant.

But, No! you’d scream back. Because, no, no, no, this couldn’t be your fault. You couldn’t have been the one to ruin yourself. That would just be so, so, so . . . well . . . it would be too much.

(You knew now that it was just one big accident. Sure, trying not to blame yourself for it now was hard, but you’d learned in the past few months. It hadn’t been your fault. It hadn’t been his either.)

But back then . . . back then the incident loomed over your shoulder like a ghost.

You were getting ahead of yourself again, but . . . but the dream, no . . . the nightmare always started and ended the same. You stuck in a burning room, left to watch yourself burn and burn and burn as you, she, it, whatever (!) screamed and screamed, its voice growing louder with each, it was your fault!

And with the last shift of blame, the fire would finally set in. The red, hot flames that had left blisters and boils on your skin would begin to itch, then sting, and then consume you until all you felt was pain, pain, pain.

Then it would be your screams which filled the room.

Only when the pain would begin to shift, your back ripping with agony as this pair of . . . wings (?) split from the wounds, would you think you’d been saved. Because just as those wings had appeared, on the other side of the room, so had a door. And perhaps, perhaps then you could escape the burning room; fly out of there and save yourself.

That was always your first thought: survive, and you would always head for the door without a second thought. It was only when you’d hear the other you’s screams that this immense amount of guilt would hit you, because there you were, able to save yourself but not without leaving a piece of you behind to burn to ash.

. . . You never turned around to give yourself one last glance either. Instead, you always counted to three before you stepped off from the ledge, trusting that what was behind the bright light coming from the door would surely save you. And every time as you realized you were falling and falling, the heat would leave your senses and all you’d be able to feel was wind in your hair and the smell of salt water. You were no longer in the burning room. You were free.

With the opening of your eyes, you would be in the sky, your wings carrying you. And for a moment, you would believe that you truly were free; free from the incident, free from your guilt, free from everything.

Until the wind no longer felt refreshing and the vague smell of burning wood could be sensed; until you finally glanced back at what you had left behind, only to realize the wings you had been gifted were not made of feathers and bone at all, but rather wax, and under the Sun’s embrace . . . they had begun to melt . . .

You’d spare yourself the details of stating what happened next, but the story was simple. Think Icarus. Just like Icarus, every time, your wings would melt and you’d hit the sea below you, shortly drowning but never dying. No, every time you’d get a bit closer to death . . . but you’d wake up just before you succumbed to it.

And every time you’d wake in a fright, sweat coating your body as you panted and panted, trying to figure out if you could still feel the fire on your skin or the water in your lungs. And every time you’d wake wondering if that was why you craved the fire so viscerally; if that was why you felt like you were drowning from time to time.

But . . . that dream, that nightmare . . . well . . . you hadn’t had it for a couple weeks or maybe months (?) now. It used to be something that you just considered part of your routine; something that you just had to deal with. But ever since you and Jungkook had begun this little thing you guys had going on where you’d sleep next to each other almost every night, you hadn’t been having any dreams.

You didn’t quite understand it. You just knew that the nightmares had stopped . . . and maybe you had him to thank for that (just a little bit).

Slowly, you brought yourself out of your mind, planting yourself in reality once again as you were reminded that you and Jungkook had gone back to his hotel room after you got in a few hours practice after well . . . after your little . . . mishap. You’d showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth, and blah blah blah. You were already tucked into bed, waiting for Jungkook to finish up brushing his teeth so the two of you could watch something to fall asleep to. (He was slow . . . of course (brushing his teeth while listening to a playlist at max volume)). And you, you were beginning to doze off, lost in your mind as you thought of the peaceful sleep you had awaiting you (partially thanks to him yeah (!) you knew . . . whatever).

Still, you couldn’t help but roll over in bed, your eyes quickly catching a glimpse of him in the mirror just outside the bathroom. And well, you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as you watched him dance to the music playing from his phone, haphazardly brushing his teeth along to the beat. (You couldn’t wait until he hopped into bed next to you and you could finally get close enough to feel his heartbeat against your cheek (not that you would admit that out loud. . . right?)).

“I can see your asscrack,” you called out across the room, laughing slightly because duh you were lying but you couldn’t help but tease him. (Plus . . . maybe a part of you missed him being beside you (you wanted him to hurry up, could you blame yourself?!).)

“Nuh-uh—” he gurgled out through the copious amount of toothpaste in his mouth— “not falling for that again. You’re full of shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, falling back against the bed, the back of your head now laying in the center of the pillow. One, two, three, you counted the swirls in the ceiling. It was literally like watching paint dry having to entertain yourself until he was done. It was an odd thing, wasn’t it? Liking someone’s company that much?

God . . . what had you turned into?

“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” you heard Jungkook ask from beside you just as the bed dipped and he crawled under the covers, no shirt and only in his boxers (as usual).

Ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart, you turned to face him, your eyes immediately trailing across his features. “You tell me,” you hummed, quickly rolling onto your side so your entire body was facing him.

“Probably,” he mumbled as he settled into the bed, propping up the pillow to support his head. “Dunno though. I try not to look at you too much.”

Your jaw dropped. Then a scoff. And you didn’t waste any time, reaching forward to twist his nipple . . . hard.

Instantly, he caved in on himself, clutching his chest as he whined, “Ow. Not cool, baby.”

You threatened to do it again, your hand outstretched.

But he waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender. “OK. OK. I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he all but begged, twisting away from you.

Falling back against the bed once again, you avoided his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you faked your displeasure with him.

Jungkook only found this amusing, soothing a hand over his chest before he shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist as he pulled you into him. It took him no time to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose just under your sweet spot. “Mmm, don’t be mad,” he mumbled against your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your ear. “You really are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss to your cheek. Then a squeeze to your side as he brought you closer and closer and closer until you were sure the two of you were intertwined. “You always have been, you know?”

Slowly, as confusion and shock twisted onto your features, you turned your head so you were nose to nose. “Don’t be silly,” you whispered as one of your hands found its way into his long hair. “I know you were kidding, you don’t have to overkill it.”

Listen, listen, listen . . . you knew you weren’t god awful, but every girl feels like they’re not good enough. It’s built into us, so sometimes it comes as a shock when someone is so . . . so forward. It wasn’t like people just went around saying ‘oh, you’re the prettiest girl ever duh!’ like duh! Obviously! So . . .

But Jungkook always managed to surprise you. Always.

And just as you were about to close your eyes, thinking this was over and the two of you were going to actually get some sleep, he surprised you once more. “You know . . . “ he began, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he were fighting with himself to say his next words . . . “I spent the entirety of the sixth grade learning every flower I could just so I’d have something to tease you about,.”

“What?” you all but snorted as you threw your leg over his hip. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he mused, while his hand had begun to trace letters or random doodles on your back.

Scrunching your brows together, you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so dense. Pretty, but—” he tapped a finger to your forehead— “hollow.”

Instantly, you shot him a look. “You wanna talk?”

He only laughed.

A beat of warm silence. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, toying with the piercing. He nipped at your thumb. Another beat. He pressed a kiss to your thumb. One more beat, then . . .

“I had a crush on you, idiot,” he confessed against your thumb in the dead of night.

This time you actually did snort, moving your thumb to rest on his chin. “What? I was all braces and forehead acne,” you went on, remembering who you were and how you were and all the little things that you wished had been different about yourself back then. “A crush, JK? Be serious.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not a liar,” he quickly rushed over, humorously defending his honor. “I had a crush on you. Seriously. Why do you think I tried to impress you all the time.”

Your smile nearly faded. (And Jimin’s words revisited you (you pushed them away).)

He wasn’t kidding.

But . . .

“Impress me? You spent our entire childhood showing off how much better you were at everything than I was,” you said, confusion and everything in between laced in your words. Because, truly, what? “That was like our . . . thing as much as it disgusts me to admit.”

His brows raised ever so slightly. “What?”

Oh no.

No, he wasn’t kidding. He actually did have a crush on you. But that meant . . . that meant the whole reason you had hated him growing up was over . . . nothing. He had never meant to start anything. He was just . . . he was trying to impress you and not . . . one-up you.

He wanted you to like him back . . .

So then you had—oh, no!

“Wait,” you cut your own thoughts off with a gasp. “Oh my fucking god, are you serious? Kook, I thought you were just trying to be an asshole.”

Jungkook pulled back. “No, what the—” his words died on his tongue as it all dawned on him. “Is that why you thought I hated you?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Oh, shit . . . “

And then . . . as if this couldn’t get any more on-brand for the two of you, Jungkook had begun to laugh. Quietly at first, then his hand was slapping against his face as he cackled, his shoulders even so much as shaking. He was full-on laughing. Laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder

“Because! You hated my guts for like fifteen years and it’s all because you took my sixth-grade flirting as an insult!” he bursted out through small laughs. “You—” he embraced you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes searched yours— “are something else.”

“Well . . . it’s technically your fault,” you responded with a quick click of your tongue.

His brows twitched upward. “Oh, is it technically my fault?” he asked while trying to fight the half-grin tipping onto his lips.

“Obviously.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking for only a second before: “At least you’re pretty.”

In response, your mouth fell open slightly. “I will bite the tip of your penis off.”

“Mmm, kinky,” he remarked as he nudged your nose with his.

Scrunching your nose, you tsked, “Ew.”

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook mockingly whined, pouting as much as he possibly could. “No cold shoulder. Gives me the chills.”

But you were having too much fun with this to give it up now. “You had a crush on me,” you all but gagged as you turned your nose up (once again ignoring Jimin’s words . . . ). “Disgusting.”

“Is it?” he questioned in amusement, moments before his lips were on your exposed jaw.

“Mmm.”

Jungkook gently bit your cheek. “I think you’re the one with the crush,” he mused, his lips trailing down to your neck again, this time hovering just over your sweet spot.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, trying your absolute hardest not to show how affected you were by just his lips grazing your skin. But one gentle kiss to your sweet spot, and you could feel your heart skyrocket to your throat as you all but choked in a breath. It was just that . . . he had this effect on you. (Fuck, did he ever . . . )

“Begging now, are you?” he remarked before leaving another kiss here and then there and the oh, you guessed it, just on the corner of your mouth but not on your lips, of course.

And all you could do was admit you were weak when it came to him, and just give in. Which was, of course, what you did as a soft groan escaped your lips and you turned your head to face him once again. “Would you get over your ego and kiss me?” you deadpanned, all but pouting at him.

That almost got him immediately. His eyes flicked to your lips, then your eyes, then to your lips once again before one of those cocky grins plastered across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice like silk.

That was the last response you received before his lips grazed yours. Gentle at first was his touch, like a feather on skin, but as he nudged your nose with his, he finally closed the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as you nipped at his bottom lip. A grin tipped onto his face before he dipped in for more, running his tongue along the crease of your lips. You complied quickly, hands tangling in his long, dark hair as you pulled him closer and melded his tongue with yours. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his grip tightened on you instantly, his hand sliding up your thigh, squeezing your hip before it snuck under the hem of your shirt (or rather his old college badminton tee that he had grown out of by now (which meant it was yours by default . . . duh).

A soft mix between a gasp and a quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt the coolness of his hand graze the swell of your breast, palming it. He grinned into the kiss, circling his thumb around your nipple, knowing damn well that it would get to you and have your skin blazing in seconds.

That was just the thing—he knew how your body worked. More . . . he knew how you worked and perhaps that was why he had figured out how to pleasure you.

Still, you tugged on his hair in annoyance, huffing slightly and pouting perhaps just a tad, which you knew he found endearing. That was the thing, too . . . you knew how he worked as well. He snickered against your lips, proving your thoughts to yourself just moments before he pulled you closer and began sucking on your bottom lip as his thumb pressed down on your puckered nipple, tweaking the bud. You hummed softly in response, grinding your underwear-clothed core against his muscular thigh.

He stilled under your touch for a mere second before his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you down onto his thigh, moving with you while you grinded against him. “Making a mess, pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips as he moved to lightly kiss your neck. His hand was at your shirt again in an instant, fisting it and pulling it up over your breasts.

“You’re such a guy,” you nearly moaned out, your hands now on his shoulders as his head dipped to your breasts, catching a nipple in his mouth all the while he flexed his thigh against your core. He didn’t stop there either. He softly hummed against your skin as he released your nipple long enough to kiss it just moments before taking it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking hard. And you couldn't help it, you jerked against him, throwing your head into the pillow as a loud moan sounded from the back of your throat.

“So you agree—” he mumbled as he still flicked his tongue over and over again over the abused bud— “you like that about me?”

Before you could even answer, his hand had gone from your waist and now tangled in your hair, holding the back of your neck. That was moments before his lips detached from your puckered bud and reattached to your lips. His other hand worked quickly, too, as he slid his thigh out from underneath you and swung your leg over his hip, his hardened length now pressed against your aching core.

“Maybe I do a little,” you whispered with a small grin playing on your puffy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He grinned back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured back, kissing you quickly before you could respond.

And his comment was long forgotten as he grinded his bulge into your heat, stimulating both you and him. It was intoxicating. No, he . . . he was.

He was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but whine out, “Take them off, please.” Your fingers were at his boxers, tracing the elastic band as you all but whimpered against his lips. You just wanted him, him, him. All of him.

“Eager?” he mused as his thumb dug into your hip. (You knew this was eating at him just as much as it was eating at you. It always did.)

“Please, Kookie. Can’t take it,” you whined further, all but straight-up riding him to scratch the ache inside you. “Need it so bad. Killin’ me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, and he didn’t waste another second either. “Love you like this.” His own whines filled the air as the two of you struggled to tear off his boxers, your underwear quickly following after as both the undergarments eventually became lost under the covers. But neither of you cared.

It was a quick descent after that. You couldn’t help but grind your core over his hard length, the sound of your wet arousal evident even over the hum of the air conditioner. The two of you never did this. You’d always done foreplay after foreplay after foreplay, finding it thrilling to tease each other, but right now . . . right now all you wanted was him inside you. You wanted him as close as possible, and it seemed he wanted the same, the both of you unable to think or do anything other than grind against each other.

Only then when you couldn’t take the throb between your legs anymore did he press a single kiss to the corner of your mouth before you felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.

The next second, you were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper. Your eyes fluttered open next, meeting his gaze instantly as he stared down at you with his brows pinched in pleasure and those big, round eyes of his blown out . . . but was this lust that he gazed at you with? His gaze appeared different, almost warmer, almost softer, almost too soft to touch . . . to have . . . to hold. He looked too pretty like this. Definitely too pretty for you to handle.

It didn’t help when the following words out of his mouth were: "You're always so fucking tight.”

And then he began to move, not breaking eye contact once. No, his eyes watched yours as his cock pumped in and out of your wet heat. His breath hit your face, and you could almost feel his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours as the two of you stared into what you could only describe as each other’s souls.

It was odd, too, because while whatever this feeling was blooming in your chest scared you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t turn from him. You just wanted him, him, him. Always him. You feared that if you did turn away, when you glanced back he wouldn’t be there anymore. And that perhaps scared you more than anything: losing him.

But there he was. He was always right there . . .

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his grasp on you tightened, his cock sinking deliciously deeper if it were even possible. The pressure in your lower stomach was becoming too much as it bloomed and bloomed, twisting and turning in a pleasurable ache. You bit your bottom lip, turning your head to the side as your breathing became more uneven by the second, but not once did you dare look away. No, you watched each and every twitch of his brow, every shaky breath, every flutter of his eyelashes, and you relished in it, soaking it all in.

It became clear to you that you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

And it seemed neither could he . . .

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you rasped out, trying to swallow your spit.

Jungkook nudged your nose with his. "Like what?"

You swallowed, this time harder (Jimin’s words revisited you once again). “I can’t say . . . “

His brows twitched this time. “How could I not?”

How could I not? And you knew what he meant, just as he had known what was playing on your mind. How could I not?

And then he was kissing you again, taking you by utter surprise. Sure, the two of you had had sex over and over again and each time felt a little different from the other, but this . . . this was like the beginning yet the present all at once. It was like you could feel all of him in just this kiss; like you could see his past and he could see yours and neither of you had thought about running once.

It was soft. So was his hand as he brushed through your hair as he kissed you, tracing your hairline, your cheek, your jaw, then your neck as if he were trying to map out your features.

(You couldn’t help but melt under his touch.)

Why was his kiss always the softest thing you had ever known?

Then . . . amidst your soft moans and carnal sounds, he pulled back, his eyes finding yours again. He glanced between the two of you where your bodies met, brows rising in marvel as he released a small sigh before rolling his hips against yours again and again. And then . . . then, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together as his gaze met yours once again and he whispered so quietly, almost too quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been so close, “I don’t even know where you end and I begin.”

And you knew instantly he didn’t just mean where your body met his. No, this was deeper, and you realized he could feel that this time was different, too.

Swallowing hard, you fluttered your eyes in almost a state of shock as you stayed silent. But you didn’t need to speak. No, you took his words, and you held them close, and then you were holding him. Take my bones and build yourself a home, he’d told you, but no, no, you wouldn’t put him through that. He could take yours. He could take all of you. You would give yourself to him.

Fuck, you would give all of yourself to him. Only him. Him, him, him.

“Wanna see your face, baby,” he murmured as he brushed your hair out of your flushed face. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My pretty girl.”

And you knew that was it.

With one final kiss, you let him know all this, allowing him to take the lead once more. Everything pulsed as he picked up a sensual pace, hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his thumb snuck between your legs, skillfully working against your swollen clit while you chased the coil. It tightened and tightened, rings of pleasure hissing in your ears. His thumb quickened its pace, and then the coil snapped, your release crashing over you. All you could do was surrender to it, tilting your head back into the pillow as your hips raised while your hands squeezed his toned arms. All the while, Jungkook continued the long drags of his cock against your walls, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Wanna stay like this,” he confessed, his thrusts growing slower and slower, unsteadier and unsteadier as he nearly whimpered into your neck. “Love this so fuckin’ much. Being with you—fuck. You make me feel so good, baby. So good.”

“I’d let you,” you mumbled against the shell of his ear, your voice a little too hoarse as you were still coming down from your high. “I’d let you do . . . all the time . . . I want—” you were delirious at this point and you knew it, too— “Want you always.”

Your words barely even registered in your brain as pleasure and that blooming feeling in your chest consumed you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself lifting his head so your lips could slot against his. And he graciously accepted your offer, consuming you just as the feeling had done.

The two of you wasted no time in escalating from gentle kissing, allowing you to further calm down from your high before your cunt was throbbing once more. And . . . before his cock had begun to feel too fucking hard inside you, nearly twitching for release as it begged for your addictive touch.

You let yourself get wrapped up in him for a little longer, too, never wanting to stop. Your hands were on him again as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled. This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips, and you knew you had him. He gave another groan of submission when you tugged again, his thrusts barely cohesive now. He was close, and you reveled in this, wishing to bring him to ecstasy. With that thought on your mind, you devilishly reached over his muscular ass, fingers quickly finding his perineum and pressing into it, massaging the sensitive spot.

He was sheathed deeper inside you before either of you could breathe, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to move positions. You just wanted to feel each other again and again and again, because for some reason . . . this time was different.

Different and yet all the same. That was how it had always been with Jungkook.

And you couldn’t quite put a word to the feeling, until . . .

“Will you cum inside me?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you omitted a soft moan under your breath. “Please. I need more.” Swallowing hard, you finally met his gaze, and instantly, you couldn’t look away. There was just . . . something . . . there. “I need you.” Your brows furrowed as you soaked in your own words while you searched his eyes.

Slowly, with another roll of his hips, he sank lower, his abdomen grazing against yours so he could be close enough to brush his lips with yours but not that close to kiss you. But you . . . you couldn’t be without his touch, and found yourself tilting your head to press your lips against his, finally finding that something you had been searching for in his eyes.

And then . . . then it hit you.

“I need you,” you heard yourself whisper before you knew the words had left your mouth. “I need you, Koo.”

I need you, you’d whispered, and you began to realize . . . you knew what you felt for him wasn’t what you’d feel for a friend. Because you did need him . . . in more ways than you’d like to admit.

And that scared the shit out of you.

taglist:

@hrts4kook , @taehyungs-chopsticks , @loomipee , @st3ft0n3s , @callmenada , @neg-l3ct , @dawn33 , @illegurlbangtan , @jeonsdetails , @rihabaxl , @yoongipost , @jjk1iscoming , @miumiugurl , @sadgirlroo , @lucwithbangtan , @iamsisuu , @shanelleeex , @beonim , @sherlynxx , @fairy1919 , @purplewhales , @bloopkook , @ggukcanim , @bloodline1632 , @jungkooksseuphoria , @tea4sykes , @mugiwaraelly , @darkuni63 , @jalexad , @lpgirl2324 , @fairy-jaykay , @h0tvillainap0logist , @stuffy16 , @keniicastillo , @yoongukie-ff , @seesawe , @chocolatesublimesoul , @yopjm , @jeonlovescoffee , @xmirvamx , @jk-190811 , @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase , @vminkookgf , @werxyz , @tornparts , @aprilspring , @kswr1d , @jimilter , @02010802 , @sunsetnamjin , @lonekittycat , @moonchild1 , @hanamgi , @yoongslast , @heronstairsxd @pointofviewyugyeom

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here4kpopfics · 1 year ago

Text

Breed My Alpha | YoonMin

Pairing: Yoongi/Jimin Genre: smut, fluff, mxm AU: A/B/O. Alpha Min Yoongi, Omega Jimin Wordcount: 4,395 Summary: Alpha Yoongi loves when Jimin goes into heat because the omega seems to think he’s actually the alpha and Yoongi *loves* going along with it. Warnings: smut smut smut. mxm, bruh i don't even know how to warn this. it's straight up smut where jimin wants to fuck yoongi. mentions of slick, alpha/omega dynamics. mentions of breeding. smut without a real plot Rating: M / 18+ AN: This took five hundred years to write between the chaos of life, a promotion at work, trying to have a social life, and just being in a ridiculous funk for months. But we did it, folks. We did it. @gimmethatagustd inspired the prompt, and made me a moodboard, and convinced me to join a fest on twitter and now here we are. This is for the omegajiminfest on AO3. Baby's first mxm, first A/B/O and first smut in *months*. thank you to my fave @theharrowing for beta reading and of course beautiful Jai for encouraging me to finish this mess 🥰 Masterlist | AO3 | Twitter | AskBox

The second Yoongi puts his key in the lock of the front door, he can smell it.

It’s a perfect mixture of mandarins, grapefruit, bergamot, juniper, and rosemary. The combination of his alpha’s and Jimin’s omega’s scents.

It almost has Yoongi growling.

“Here we go.” Yoongi mumbles to himself with a smile, slowly opening the door and stepping inside, bracing himself for the next few days

He had been at work, mind replaying the morning earlier when he woke up to Jimin whimpering in his sleep and the undeniable smell of his heat coming.

He asked the omega if he wanted Yoongi to stay, but he denied him, saying he felt fine.

He got the voice memo just after lunch.

“Alpha. Need you. Where are you? Yoongi, need alpha.” He was borderline sobbing between pants. Yoongi could practically hear the way he was rutting against the sheets, looking for any kind of friction.

Thank god he thought to wear his headphones before playing it. He doesn’t want to know what his assistant would’ve thought.

Yoongi sent him a text back saying to wait and ended his work day early, telling his boss he’d be out of office for a few days.

He rushed to the closest convenience store, stocking up on instant meals, snacks, and various drinks. He also made sure to grab a bottle of lube. Omegas don’t need it, producing their own slick, but Yoongi knows his omega mate all too well. Sometimes he asks for specific things an omega generally doesn’t. So he gets the lube, and maybe he’ll give his omega what he wants this time.

He’s quick to put the groceries away after toeing off his shoes at the door.

Once complete, he takes a deep breath, his wolf prancing in his chest.

Omega is waiting. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

Just to spite his wolf, Yoongi takes his time moving to the bedroom, slowly crawling up the stairs as the omega’s pheromones get stronger. He can hear the whines of his mate halfway up the steps and it only teases his wolf more.

When he opens the bedroom door, his eyes immediately lock onto Jimin, who, in the time it took for Yoongi to leave for work and come home, had rearranged the bed, turning it into a full-on nest of pillows and blankets. Yoongi had tried sneaking some of his dirty clothes from the laundry into the bed the night before when he had a feeling the heat was coming, but Jimin never liked dirty laundry on the bed or his nest, so they got tossed to the floor.

“Alpha?” Jimin’s voice cracks, head barely lifting to look behind him. He’s on his stomach, wearing only his underwear, clutching the pillow underneath him as he slowly rolls his hips into the bed.

“I’m here, Jimin.” He stands at the edge of the bed, taking off his blazer and belt, watching his mate try to relieve himself. He can see how soaked his tight briefs are and he has to fight the wolf to do what he wants.

“Yoongi. It hurts.”

“I know, baby. I’m here now, it’s okay.” His voice soothes as his own pheromones blend with Jimin’s, calming the omega’s anxiousness as he crawls onto the bed on his hands and knees. Jimin quietly whines every time Yoongi’s lips meet his spine, following the moon tattoos up to the back of his neck.

“You’re so pretty, omega. My beautiful omega.” A purr vibrates through Yoongi’s chest as he nuzzles his nose just under Jimin’s ear, teasing at the scent gland.

“Please.”

“Hmm?” Yoongi’s lips curl up into a grin, his teeth grazing over the gland and next to the claim mark he gave him a little over a year ago. “What do you want, Jimin?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Alpha. Need alpha’s knot.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me, you just want to use me.” Yoongi teases, licking and sucking anywhere but the scent gland.

“No!” He tries raising his head to turn to his mate, but the side of his head is quickly pushed back into the pillow by Yoongi’s large hand. Jimin whines at the force, even though it is very light.

“No?” Yoongi teases, fingers tangling in the smaller’s hair for a moment.

“Not using you. Need you. Want you. Please, please, please.” He’s almost sobbing, hips lifting to try to meet Yoongi’s crotch with his ass.

“Okay, okay. I hear you. How bad do you want me and my knot, baby?”

“Please.” He cries, tears falling into the pillow.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Need you so bad. So, so, so bad, Yoongi.”

“Ass up, omega.”

God, Yoongi loves how obedient Jimin’s omega is. Outside of heats, Jimin is a brat in bed. He’s constantly going against Yoongi’s orders, not that he gives that many to begin with. But he’s always talking back, trying to take power away from Yoongi. Which, to be fair, Yoongi loves. If anything, he gets more turned on the more dominating Jimin tries to be.

But Jimin in heat? That’s a whole other Jimin for Yoongi to fall in love with.

Yoongi’s barely off him before Jimin’s pushing his ass up, settling on his knees and hugging the pillow under him. Yoongi rolls up his sleeves, laughing as Jimin gives his ass a little wiggle and Yoongi can’t resist giving it a quick smack, grinning at the sound Jimin makes in response.

“That’s my omega. Can I take these off?”

“Yes. Please. Please, please, please.”

Yoongi’s grin grows, teeth showing, as he rips the underwear off, not wanting to waste time pulling the fabric down his legs, and tossing it to the floor.

Large hands spread Jimin’s cheeks as Yoongi’s chest swells with pride at just how wet his omega is for him.

“Oh, baby. You’ve been suffering all this time while I was at work?”

Jimin tries to answer, he really tries. But all words escape him, only a loud muffled moan, when Yoongi’s licking directly across his hole.

If you asked Yoongi what his favorite snack was, he’d say Jimin. And everyone would laugh, thinking it was a joke, an attempt to tease Jimin and make him flustered in front of his friends. But Jimin and Yoongi both know that he’s being completely serious.

The man loves eating ass. Specifically Jimin’s. Specifically Jimin’s when he’s in heat.

Omega tastes so good. His alpha screams in his chest, encouraging Yoongi to practically devour Jimin, fingers and tongue slipping past his rim to open him up quickly.

Jimin comes twice before Yoongi decides to give in to his alpha’s demands, crawling over his omega, kissing up his spine and trailing over his moon tattoos.

“Such a good omega. So perfect.” His voice rasps against Jimin’s skin.

“Yoongi, alpha. Please.” Jimin whines again, voice on the edge of being broken.

Yoongi’s quick to get off the bed again, removing the rest of his clothing until he’s naked before crawling back onto the bed.

“I got you, baby. You don’t have to wait any longer.” Yoongi smirks, sitting back on his knees, his hands lazily sliding down Jimin’s torso to his hips. One hand stays there, holding him tight, while the other lines up his erection to Jimin’s soaked hole, wasting no time in pushing past the rim.

And Jimin purrs.

And Yoongi’s mind is gone.

Omega happy. Omega likes us. More, more, more.

The moan mixed with the purring from the small omega kicks Yoongi’s alpha into overdrive.

Knot him. Breed the omega. Pups. Need pups. Make the omega happy and pregnant.

“Fuck, baby.” Yoongi’s voice cracks, wincing from the mix of pleasure and pain from how tight Jimin’s clenching around him. As if Jimin is trying to milk Yoongi for everything he’s got and he hasn’t even formed his knot yet.

His hips have a mind of their own, pistoning into Jimin at a pace neither is prepared for. Jimin mindlessly pressing his ass back when Yoongi stutters, demanding he keep going.

None of what Jimin’s mumbling through his cries makes any sense, and honestly, Yoongi is so focused on not coming immediately, that he’s barely paying attention.

Knot the omega. Our omega. We love our omega.

Yoongi’s desperate to keep his alpha quiet, but it’s impossible when his omega is splayed under him, begging for his alpha.

“Alpha— knot. Plea—. Need it.” Jimin’s voice cuts through the alpha’s internal screams, delightfully prancing around at the request. And Yoongi can feel it forming. The knotted bulge around the base of his cock, growing bigger with each thrust and press against Jimin’s ass.

It’s a heavy mix of praise and begging, whining and growling, panting and gasping from both men until Yoongi’s knot finally pushes past Jimin’s rim, his hole swallowing it completely.

“Alpha!” Jimin squeaks underneath Yoongi, whose body slumps over the younger’s back, teeth gently dragging along Jimin’s scent gland as a hand snakes its way under the omega, finding his cock and slowly stroking it.

“Gonna fill you with pups, omega. You ready for me?” His voice gently rumbles against Jimin’s ear who nods quickly, smattering of words of yes, please, and calling of his alpha spilling past his lips.

Yoongi sinks his teeth into Jimin’s neck, almost perfectly over the claim mark, and with two more short thrusts, growls as his orgasm completely stills him.

Jimin’s perfectly still as well, save for the bursts of his own orgasm shooting past Yoongi’s fingers and onto the bed.

It’s euphoric, every time that Jimin’s in heat and takes Yoongi’s knot. When Yoongi’s in his rut, his alpha completely takes over and it’s like watching himself be with his mate. His alpha is feral; claiming the omega over and over, marking and scenting him so any and every alpha, beta, and omega knows Jimin is his omega.

But when Jimin goes into heat outside of Yoongi’s rut?

He gets to enjoy every moment.

Every moan, every whine, every begging word, and every time Jimin clenches around him.

Which is why he’s slow to release his hold on Jimin’s neck as he presses his hips further against the pliant omega.

It’s only once he feels his knot go down and Jimin’s stomach feels fuller, that he releases his neck from his jaws.

“Good omega, you did so well for your alpha.” He purrs into Jimin’s ear, licking over the fresh bite mark, “So so so good. Took my knot so deep, didn’t you?”

Jimin turns his head to the side, finally showing his face. There’s drying tears on across his cheeks, his lips swollen from biting down too hard.

He’s beautiful.

He nods slowly, eyes failing to stay open.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, baby. I’m gonna pull out and clean you up now, okay? Then we can nap until your heat spikes again.”

Jimin whines again. But it’s not the omega whine, it’s a “Jimin’s being stubborn” whine.

“Don’t even.” Yoongi smirks, kissing his cheek and slowly pulling out, hand rubbing his backside through the pain.

He rushes off to the bathroom, grabbing a warm and wet washcloth and a change of clothes. But when he comes back, Jimin’s fast asleep. Yoongi’s eyes roll as he quietly cleans the omega, not bothering to put pajamas on him, leaving soft kisses where he can. He crawls into the bed and curls around his omega, holding him close as he falls asleep to the sound of pleasant purrs.

The next twenty-eight hours pass like this. They sleep, Jimin wakes up, heat spiking, and rouses a sleeping Yoongi to wake and give him what he needs.

And Yoongi’s not one to ever deny his mate, letting Jimin suck his alpha’s cock until he’s hard and ready to go. Or when Jimin takes Yoongi roughly in the shower when the elder is just trying to clean the omega, but the smell of grapefruit and juniper is enhanced by the steam.

There are moments when Yoongi has to momentarily drag the omega to the kitchen to have food and drink something. Or carry him, bridal style, to the bath while Yoongi changes some of the sheets, letting the freshly washed Jimin be the one to rearrange the nest until he’s satisfied.

There are many cries of “my alpha” and “my omega” exchanged, Jimin being way more clingy and possessive than usual. It’s all pretty standard and almost routine, but still so sweetly domestic.

Until Yoongi wakes up to Jimin sitting on the alpha’s legs, rubbing his hardened cock against Yoongi’s as his lips kiss along his jawline and throat.

“Jimin, what are you doing?”

“Taking care of my alpha.” He purrs in response, kissing down his alpha’s stomach, lips just avoiding the heavy cock resting there.

“And how are you gonna do that?” His words tease, but the tone is adoration.

“Gonna knot you.” Jimin’s lips leave wet trails on the skin alongside Yoongi’s cock, still just barely ignoring its existence. He nuzzles the space where his hip meets his inner thigh.

“Oh, really?” Yoongi’s legs inch apart just slightly at the visual.

Jimin’s quick to nod for his alpha, nibbling the delicate skin until it bruises.

“Yeah, gonna knot, fill alpha up with my pups.”

Yoongi wants to tell him that’s not how it works. Jimin is an omega, there’s no way he can form a knot.

It’s physically impossible.

But, fuck, does Yoongi wanna see Jimin try.

So he parts his legs further, giving Jimin permission and access.

“You better open me up first so I can take it. Your alpha can’t take a knot like you can.” He runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair, the omega looks so fucked out already, but so excited at the same time.

“You’ll take my knot so well.” He purrs again, his ass wiggling in the air. Yoongi knows that wiggle. That’s the omega presenting, waiting desperately for his alpha’s cock.

Yoongi’s wolf is screaming at this point.

Omega wants us. Omega is ready.

Nope, he’s going to ignore it. Tonight, Jimin is the alpha. Yoongi is the omega in heat, waiting to be bred.

Yoongi only recently started letting Jimin play alpha in bed. He knows of alphas mating with their own sub genders, but he’s never taken part. He’s only ever been with omegas and only ever topped.

But along came omega Jimin, who one day with a shy smile and a soft dusting of a blush, asked if he could go down on his alpha. Yoongi thought Jimin just wanted to give him head, so when he agreed, he was confused by how excited Jimin was.

Sure, Jimin gave mind blowing head for a moment, but his tongue eventually dragged its way past his balls, lifting them out of the way to the small rim of muscles, making the alpha jump, his fingers pulling at the omega’s hair.

It took some convincing from Jimin, but Yoongi eventually gave in, letting the smaller of the two eat him out, eventually introducing a finger. Yoongi will never forget how it felt the first time Jimin fingered him. The way his toes curled, the hand not tangled in Jimin’s hair gripping the sheets as he tried to relax more.

That’s the furthest they’ve ever gone with it, though. Yoongi’s been too nervous to actually bottom for Jimin; or rather, his alpha’s pride felt threatened. So Jimin would only ever get a few fingers in, massaging his prostate with them while his other hand squeezed his growing knot, making Yoongi have the most mind numbing orgasms every time.

But today feels different. Yoongi can feel his alpha screaming, but he ignores it. He wants this. Wants Jimin.

“Don’t make me wait, omega.” Yoongi growls through gritted teeth as Jimin leaves small bites on either side of his inner thighs.

“I’m not an omega.” Jimin glares, daring to pout at Yoongi who just smiles, running his fingers through the smaller’s hair.

“Of course, I’m sorry alpha.” Yoongi bites back the teasing grin, shifting his hips. Jimin purrs in response, face nuzzling against a fresh bite mark on his hip.

“Good alpha.” Jimin smiles, lightly kissing the mark.

“Me alpha, or you alpha?” Jimin looks up in response, annoyed at Yoongi’s question. It makes the older laugh, “Baby, I need to know how this is going to go. Don’t be mad. Am I alpha or omega?”

It’s like he can actually see the gears turning in the omega’s brain as he tries to figure it out before he finally responds with a quiet, “My alpha…”

“And you’re alpha, too?”

“Your alpha.”

“Sounds good. Now, come on, alpha. I need you.”

Jimin smirks in response, delicate fingers wrapping around Yoongi’s cock and giving a gentle squeeze. Yoongi’s chest rumbles, a groan ripping through his throat.

Jimin wastes no more time, wrapping his perfect lips around the tip of Yoongi’s cock and sucking, his tongue pressing against the slit to make Yoongi’s squirm.

“Jimin-ah…”

He doesn’t get a response in the form of words, just Jimin lowering his mouth down around the alpha’s erection. He stops just shy of where his knot would form and the tip hits the back of his throat. Yoongi’s fingers tangle in Jimin’s blonde hair, tentatively pushing his head down further.

Yoongi’s words are muffled in his moans, but it’s when Jimin’s finger teases at Yoongi’s hole that he has to fight off his alpha, who desperately wants to flip Jimin around and sink as deep into him as he can go.

“No teasing, alpha.” Yoongi growls in warning. Jimin’s eyes glance up at him, moving his mouth off Yoongi’s cock and smiling at the way Yoongi’s biting his bottom lip.

He hovers back above the alpha, small hands wrapping around Yoongi’s wrists as he slowly moves them to sit on the pillow above Yoongi’s head. Yoongi’s quick to understand the silent order, tangling his fingers together as if his wrists were bound.

“Be good for me.”

“Always.”

Jimin’s omega preens at the obedient alpha, shuffling back down and spreading Yoongi’s legs more before licking his hole.

“Jimi-ah—.”

Jimin hums in response, taking that as a sign to not hold back.

And while Yoongi loves eating ass, Jimin’s mouth is designed for it.

It drives Yoongi insane. His alpha howling at the sensation.

Jimin uses the moans and growls to push forward, tongue diving past the ring of muscles and working him open.

“Jimin.” His voice cracks, and Jimin glances up, giving the alpha a pointed look.

It takes Yoongi a second to click what he said wrong.

“Alpha,” the omega smiles at the correction, kissing the sensitive space between his balls and hole. Yoongi tosses his head back into the pillow, continuing to fight his alpha, “Chim, you know I can’t produce my own slick, I have lube in the drawer.”

He managed to remember to bring the lube to the bedroom after drawing a bath for Jimin last night and letting him rest by himself.

Jimin’s head perks up further, eyes finding the drawer in question. Yoongi bites back a laugh at the way Jimin quickly crawls away from Yoongi and to the drawer, pulling out the small bottle of lube.

Yoongi closes his eyes, willing himself to rely on his senses and holding back his alpha, giving himself completely to Jimin. He hears the click of the bottle opening, the almost obscene squelch of the lube being squeezed onto Jimin’s fingers. He hears Jimin crawling back into position, and feels the way his free hand slide’s up Yoongi’s thigh, as if to warn him of what’s coming.

But he’s not ready for the cold shock of the lube, hips bucking up and away at the contact of fingers pressing against his hole.

“Cold.” He’s quick to breathe out.

“Never liked lube…” Jimin mutters, slowly pushing two fingers in and curling them up. Yoongi hisses at the sensation, relaxing immediately at how Jimin somehow always manages to find the perfect spot to press.

“I don’t have slick. This is how it’ll have to be, Jimin-ah.” His eyes are shut, but he can hear the way Jimin’s hand leaves Yoongi, quietly playing with the lube between his fingers.

The wild thing about relying on the other senses by depriving oneself of one is those other senses get amplified. Which is why when Yoongi mentions slick, he can smell the slick coming from his omega. He can feel the way Jimin repositions himself. Can hear the way he reaches behind himself to gather up his own slick.

This time, when Jimin presses his fingers in, it’s a lot easier, almost warm, and Yoongi has no time to process that it’s Jimin’s own slick being used as lube before he’s bucking his hips up when Jimin’s fingers curl inside.

Jimin works him open, mixing the lube with his own slick to get Yoongi open enough.

“Doing so well, my alpha.” He praises absentmindedly, eyes focused on the way his fingers spread Yoongi open.

Yoongi can’t respond, how could he? He can only let out soft sounds of pleasure until Jimin is crawling back over him, delicate kisses trailing up his skin.

“Fuck me.”

It’s said out of breath, desperate, needy.

Jimin nods, a shy smile flashing across his face.

Jimin covers his cock in more of his own slick and a small amount of lube (he really hates the stuff) and positions himself between Yoongi’s legs.

“I love you, alpha.” He whispers it against Yoongi’s lips, not giving him a chance to respond when he pushes the tip of his cock in.

It’s hot open mouth breaths against one another as they’re both gasping at the feeling. Jimin’s inside of his alpha. He’s fucking Yoongi for once.

It feels too fucking good.

Jimin gives Yoongi a moment to relax once he’s bottomed out, soft kisses on his lips, cheeks, down to his throat and scent gland.

“My sweet alpha. Doing so well.” He praises, running his tongue along the gland, both scents intensifying around them.

“Knot me, Chim. Please, fuck me.” Yoongi’s voice falters, hips lifting to try to meet Jimin’s and make him move. His hands are gripping the pillow tight. He wants to destroy it to avoid touching Jimin.

Jimin presses him back down, hand gripping the older’s hip to keep him in place, and pulls out until it’s just the tip. He starts out slow, getting Yoongi adjusted to the feel and the stretch until he’s practically begging for more.

“My perfect alpha. Gonna knot you. Breed you. Fuck you so full of my cum. My beautiful alpha.”

Yoongi can only cry out in pleasure, hands finally ripping the pillow above his head, finally grabbing Jimin to bring his mouth to his in a sloppy and needy kiss.

It’s when Yoongi purrs that Jimin officially loses it.

“Present for me.” It’s a simple instruction, a basic command Yoongi has given Jimin countless times, yet it makes Yoongi’s mind hazy as he rushes to comply. He feels so empty when Jimin pulls out, desperate for Jimin to fill him up again, he gets to his hands and knees, ass straight up in the air.

“Good alpha.” Jimin purrs, hands grabbing at the flesh of his ass and watching the way Yoongi’s hole flutters for him.

“Just for you, alpha.” Yoongi whines into a not destroyed pillow, cursing when Jimin pushes back in.

“You take me so well, baby. So fucking perfect for me.” A hand slides up and down his back as he fucks him like it’s his only goal in life to bring pleasure.

Yoongi whines, pleasure intensifying and making it hard to stay coherent as he takes everything Jimin gives him.

He doesn’t even notice when Jimin pulls him up to just his knees, one hand around his torso, the other on his hip. He leaves wet kisses along his neck as the alpha leans his head back on Jimin’s shoulder.

“That’s it, alpha. You wanna come around my cock? Let me knot you and fill you up? Make you mine?”

“Please. Jimi—oh fuck. Please.” His words are broken, the intensity of his orgasm building as both of Jimin’s hands reach for his cock. One hand squeezing the base where his knot should be forming while the other teases the tip mercilessly.

“Come for me, alpha. Let me feel it.” His whispered command breaks the alpha, crying out, body shaking but not falling as Jimin keeps him close, milking his orgasm from his cock. It’s the most intense feeling, hands around his sensitive cock while being fucked so deep at the same time.

He fucking loves it.

“Fuck I’m coming, too.” Jimin quickly latches his teeth into Yoongi’s neck, right on the scent gland. He pistons into Yoongi a few more times before stopping suddenly, finally coming deep inside.

It feels so good, so intense, Yoongi comes a second time. It’s not as intense, a small aftershock orgasm, but it’s so fucking good that they both fall forward when Jimin is done.

The room is silent, save for the two catching their breaths, until a soft giggle comes from the omega. Yoongi turns to his side, Jimin falling to his opposite side to face the alpha.

“What?” Yoongi asks out of breath still.

“Thank you.” Jimin whispers, “for letting me do that. I know your alpha must’ve been fighting you the entire time. I know my omega was.”

“It was. But, it gave in at the end. Felt too fucking good.”

“Yes it did.” Jimin giggles and Yoongi's alpha feels so damn proud.

“I think it broke my heart, though.” Jimin smiles, half-moon eyes showing and making Yoongi smile in return.

“We’ll take today to rest and make sure. I’ll take care of you, baby.”

“Shouldn’t I take care of you?” He pouts and Yoongi has to give the full gummy smile.

“No, baby. I’m fine.”

“But the alpha should take care of the—”

“I’m okay, Chim. I promise. If anything, we can take care of each other. Okay?”

“Bath”

“Let’s nap a little first and then, yes, we’ll have a bath together.”

Jimin nods in agreement, pushing his body forward until the two are cuddling and his face is buried in the alpha’s neck.

“I love you, Min Yoongi, my alpha.”

“I love you, Park Jimin, my beautiful omega.”

#kelly posts #kelly writes #yoonmin #yoongi x jimin #fic: breed my alpha #jimin x yoongi #a/b/o dynamics #idk what to tag this as idk #alpha yoongi #omega jimin #yoonmin smut

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stormblessed95 · 9 months ago

Note

I saw one of ur reblog where it was about AYS gifs and someone said that the Fandom either is afraid of them and something like that and you know what i find confusing about the Fandom? It's as we know that they don't mention jikook together as much as they do with others or don't usually acknowledge jikook "moments" like they'd have done if it was other duos but one thing i have always noticed is when there's some "WTF?" Jkk moments are there armys will be like "Of course it's these two who could it be", "i won't even be surprise if they kiss in front of everyone one day" or "i have lost all the shock value at jikook because these two has no boundaries whatsoever", "of course it's jikook being gay who else". So on very rare times they see something jikook has done e.g. the butt slap or when jikook were quite literally moaning entering the villa in the last ep, i even came across someone saying "i wouldn't be surprised if they had se* after this scene because they both nasty all the time" etc. During that butt slap in the nyc scene ppl were like "If you have survived DVD jikook then you know it's another Tuesday for them" so i believe the Fandom knows what jikook does is past what usually anyone in BTS would do so is it because they know if they post jikook content that's not the unusual for other pairings is it because it's confusing to them as well? Do they also feel uncomfortable? Is it because they get ppl in their mentions saying "Stop sexualizing members" but it's nothing and just a clip of what jkk did....i think they see and they know it's different than others and they know by putting those videos or pics up on their accounts what it'll look like plus many of them re closeted tkkrs so obviously they don't wanna post many things related to jikook if they can't caption it with "Siblings behaviour".

That trend of "That one k-pop ship which actually has evidence of being true" or smtg and it's mostly jikook from BTS's side so u know ppl see it too but the reason of not posting is they don't want to, it's intentional and the reason behind those intentions are many.

Funny how every jungkook shirtless pic makes armys go crazy that I see same pic on my tl for DAYS but when behind AYS was released all big accounts posted was vminkook, vmin and taekook but as usual no jikook. Funny how no jk big solo FB posted the pic with jm's name on his chest lol because they know how they'll look if they edit it and they know they don't want to post the og one lol. Not even any big army accounts posted this but let it be namkook, yoonmin, taekook, vmin or ANY other pairing of BTS and everyone would have posted. By doing this they're showing nothing but their hyporisy lol. They know, they see it's different but they just don't wanna admit it.

#the oubliette #opinions

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solastia · 9 months ago

Text

Indulgence

Pairing: Yoongi, Jimin, F!Reader

Kinktober Theme: Threesome

TW: Power imbalance, light choking, threesome, MMF, polyamory, no protection is even mentioned, can seduction be dubious consent? Because if so then yeah, they kinda gaslight you into fucking them lmao. Big dick Yoongi. I'm adding that because I don't usually do that. Dirty talk. Oh, I should probably warn I use cunt, because I like that word. *shrug*

Welcome to another edition of Solastia fails to make a drabble a drabble! I was just going to make a short drabble for Kinktober, but here we are with 5K instead *sigh*. I'll try better with the rest of them. In the meantime, very cheesy erotica ahead with limited plot.

This was the end of your first week at Yoonmin Corp., the new leaders in tech in your city. The CEO’s had taken the city by storm, and you had been quick to grab a job with the promising company.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and indigo, as you emerged from the sleek glass doors of Yoonmin Corp headquarters. A warm breeze, heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine, ruffled your hair as you made your way down the broad stone steps. The past five days had passed in an exhilarating blur of meetings, presentations, and dazzling technological displays that left your mind reeling.

Whispers swirled around the enigmatic CEO duo, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, who had burst onto the scene mere months ago. With their disruptive innovations and magnetic charisma, they were the talk of every social circle and business journal in the city. Rumors abounded of their rapid rise, unconventional methods, and the secrets that surely lay behind those piercing gazes and seductive smiles.

Wait. Maybe you hadn't intended to think that last phrase, but it lingered in your mind like a persistent itch. Piercing and seductive? Yes, that fits. Because that had been your only issue with this place. Well, not so much an issue as a mystery.

Since the moment you sat at the desk in front of their glass office, you’d felt like prey. Their eyes always watching you, one or the other finding a reason to stride out of their office like panthers to “chat” with you at your desk. And one very memorable moment where you’d caught them making out in their office and Yoongi had stared you down the entire time.

You shake your head, trying to clear yourself of the strange thoughts. As you reached the bottom of the steps, a sleek black car with tinted windows glided to a stop at the curb. The door swung open, and a handsome man in a tailored suit stepped out, inclining his head to you.

"Good evening. Mr. Min and Mr. Park request your presence." His rich baritone sent a shiver down your spine.

Heart pounding, you slid into the plush leather backseat, the door closing with a muted click. The interior was dimly lit, all polished wood and gleaming chrome. Across from you lounged the infamous CEOs themselves, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin, shadows playing across their striking features. What the hell could you have done already? Not to mention you were clocked out for the day.

"Thank you for joining us," Yoongi purred, his cat-like eyes glinting in the low light. "We've been watching you this week. Your...potential intrigues us."

Jimin leaned forward, his perfectly styled hair falling artfully over his brow. The spicy scent of his cologne filled the air between you, making your pulse race even faster.

"You've exceeded all expectations. Your brilliance, your dedication...and perhaps other qualities as well." His gaze drifted languidly over your form, a smirk playing at the corner of his full lips.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure under the intensity of their stares. The car purred to life and pulled away from the curb, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon beyond the tinted glass.

"I'm flattered, but I'm not sure I understand. What exactly are you looking for from me outside of my regular duties?"

Yoongi chuckled, a low, velvety sound that seemed to resonate in your bones. He exchanged a loaded glance with Jimin, their eyes glittering with unspoken promises.

"We have a special project in mind. One that requires someone with your unique combination of intellect, discretion, and...allure."

Jimin's fingertips grazed your knee, the brief contact searing through the thin fabric of your slacks.

"It's not the sort of thing we can discuss at the office. Too many prying eyes and ears. We have a private penthouse where we prefer to handle our most sensitive business."

The car turned down a narrow side street, the buildings towering above you like sentinels guarding forbidden secrets. Your breath caught in your throat as the implications of their words sank in.

"This project...it's not entirely professional, is it?"

Yoongi's lips curved into a wicked smile.

"Clever and perceptive. I knew we chose well." He leaned back, draping an arm across the seat. "No, this venture is of a more...intimate nature."

Jimin's hand slid higher up your thigh, his touch light but deliberate.

"We've built an empire on pushing boundaries and shattering expectations. In business, and in pleasure." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "There are no limits to the heights we can reach together."

Your skin prickled with heat, every nerve alight. This was insane. Reckless. Yet the magnetic pull of their power and sensuality was undeniable.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we return you to your little desk, no questions asked," Yoongi replied smoothly. "But I don't think you will. I think you crave something more. Something extraordinary." His eyes bored into yours, stripping away your defenses layer by layer.

The car slowed to a stop and the driver opened the door. You stepped out onto a private underground parking garage, your legs unsteady beneath you. Yoongi and Jimin emerged like twin shadows, their movements fluid and hypnotic.

"Come," Jimin coaxed, offering his hand. "Let us show you the world that awaits."

Heart thundering against your ribs, you placed your trembling fingers in his warm palm. His grip was firm, confident, as he led you to a private elevator. Yoongi pressed a code, and the doors slid open with a hushed whoosh.

Inside, the air crackled with tension. Jimin's body was a hair's breadth from yours, his heat seeping into your skin.

The elevator ascended swiftly, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and trepidation. Jimin's thumb traced maddening circles on your palm, each caress sending sparks racing up your arm and down your spine. Yoongi leaned against the mirrored wall, his hooded gaze devouring your every reaction.

With a soft chime, the doors opened directly into a sprawling penthouse suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a breathtaking panorama of the glittering cityscape below. Sleek, modern furnishings in shades of black and crimson filled the space, the décor dripping with decadence and sensual promise.

Yoongi's hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you into the room.

"Welcome to our private sanctuary," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "A place where we can indulge our deepest desires without restraint."

Your heart raced as you took in the opulent surroundings—the plush velvet couches, the gleaming marble bar, the massive bed draped in silk. Every detail whispered of luxury and temptation. Jimin circled around to face you, his eyes smoldering with unspoken promises.

"You're trembling," he observed, trailing a fingertip along your collarbone. "Is it nerves? Excitement?" His lips quirked. "Anticipation of what's to come?"

"All of the above," you managed, your voice breathy. The raw magnetism of these men was overwhelming, short-circuiting your rational mind. Jimin's fingertip dipped lower, grazing the swell of your breast through your thin blouse. Your nipples tightened, aching for his touch.

Yoongi moved behind you, his solid form pressing against your back. Strong hands settled on your hips, holding you captive between their bodies.

"There's no need to be nervous," he purred, nuzzling the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "We'll take good care of you."

Jimin's nimble fingers released the top button of your blouse, then another, baring a tantalizing glimpse of lace-clad curves.

"So beautiful," he praised, his gaze molten. "I've been imagining peeling you out of these prim little office clothes all week."

A moan caught in your throat as Yoongi's teeth grazed your earlobe, sending tingles racing across your sensitive skin. His hands slid from your hips to splay across your stomach, holding you firmly against the solid heat of his body.

"Let us worship you," he growled, his deep voice vibrating through you. "Let us show you pleasures you've only dreamed of."

Jimin finished unbuttoning your blouse and pushed it off your shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor. Cool air whispered across your overheated flesh, pebbling your exposed skin. His fingertips traced the scalloped edge of your lacy bra, dipping beneath the fabric to tease your aching nipples.

"Exquisite," he breathed, his eyes devouring you. "I want to taste every inch of you."

Your head fell back against Yoongi's shoulder as Jimin's fingers worked their magic, caressing and teasing your sensitive flesh. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, holding you steady as your knees threatened to buckle under the onslaught of sensation.

"So responsive," Yoongi purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you need it."

Jimin deftly unclasped your bra, letting it slide down your arms to join your blouse on the floor. His heated gaze raked over your exposed breasts, the naked hunger in his eyes making you throb with need.

"Perfection," he murmured, cupping the soft mounds in his palms. "I could spend hours worshipping these alone."

A whimper escaped your lips as Jimin's thumbs circled your sensitive nipples, the rough pads igniting sparks of pleasure that shot straight to your core. Yoongi's hands slid lower, deftly unfastening your slacks and easing them over the curve of your hips. The brush of cool air against your bare thighs made you shiver, goosebumps racing across your skin.

"So soft," Yoongi growled appreciatively, his fingers skimming the lacy edge of your panties. "I can't wait to feel these silky thighs wrapped around my waist as I sink into your tight pussy."

His blunt words sent ripples to your core, dampening your panties, your need for them ratcheting higher with each passing second. Jimin's hands continued their sweet torment, rolling and plucking your stiff nipples.

Yoongi's fingers dipped beneath the delicate lace of your panties, grazing your slick, sensitive folds. A gasp tore from your throat at the electric contact, your hips bucking into his touch.

"Already so wet for us," he purred, circling your aching clit with a featherlight caress. "I knew you'd be perfect."

Jimin's mouth replaced his fingers on your breasts, his clever tongue swirling around one taut peak before drawing it between his lips. He sucked deeply, sending shockwaves of bliss ricocheting through your body. Your hands tangled in his silky hair, holding him closer as he lavished your aching flesh with expert attention.

"Please," you whimpered, lost to the exquisite sensations they were unleashing. "I need..."

Yoongi's fingers delved deeper, parting your slick folds to tease your throbbing entrance. "Tell us what you need, baby," he coaxed, his voice a sinful rasp against your ear. "We want to hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, a heady mix of desire and embarrassment flooding through you. But the desperate ache between your thighs overrode any lingering shyness.

"I need you inside me," you breathed, arching into his touch. "Both of you. Please..."

Jimin released your nipple with a wet pop, his eyes blazing with lust as they met yours.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg for us," he growled. In one fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in your panties and tugged them down your trembling legs.

Cool air kissed your exposed flesh, making you gasp and shiver with need. Yoongi's fingers continued to tease your slick folds, circling your throbbing clit in maddening strokes.

"So pretty," he purred, dipping one long finger inside your clenching heat. "I can't wait to feel this sweet pussy stretched around my cock."

Jimin kneeled before you, his heated gaze drinking in the sight of your bared pussy.

"Delectable," he murmured, hooking your thigh over his broad shoulder. "I'm going to devour this perfect cunt until you scream for us, baby."

His scorching breath feathered over your sensitive flesh a moment before his wicked tongue delved between your folds. A broken moan tore from your throat as he lapped at your dripping slit, the velvet caress of Jimin's tongue against your most intimate flesh sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body. Your hips bucked forward, seeking more of that exquisite friction as he laved your throbbing clit with firm, deliberate strokes.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi purred in your ear, his fingers continuing their maddening tease of your slick entrance. "Let him taste how sweet you are. How desperate for our touch."

Jimin growled against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations making you cry out and clutch at his hair. He sealed his lips around your aching bud, suckling deeply as he worked two fingers inside your clenching channel. Your inner muscles gripped him greedily, drawing him deeper into your molten core.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jimin groaned, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm that made your toes curl. "I can't wait to feel this perfect pussy squeezing my cock."

Yoongi's hand slid up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh as he rocked his hardness against the curve of your ass.

"So fucking responsive," he rasped, pinching your nipple between his fingers. "I knew you'd be perfect for us the moment I laid eyes on you."

Their dual assault on your senses was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards the edge. Jimin's fingers curled inside you, stroking that sensitive spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. His tongue flicked rapid fire against your clit, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.

"That's it, baby," Yoongi growled, his hips grinding against your ass in time with Jimin’s movements.

Jimin's wicked tongue swirled faster over your swollen clit as his fingers thrust deeper, stroking that spot inside you that made your legs tremble. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, your pussy clenching around his pumping digits.

"Gonna come for us, sweet thing?" Yoongi purred, roughly palming your breasts. "Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze Jimin's fingers when you let go?"

His filthy words and the relentless pleasure from Jimin's talented mouth shoved you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves of ecstasy, a loud moan tearing from your throat as your inner walls spasmed. Jimin groaned against your throbbing flesh, lapping up your gushing release.

"Fuck, you taste incredible," he rasped, continuing to lick you slowly, drawing out your climax until you were a whimpering, trembling mess in their arms. Finally, he released you with a final slow lick, his eyes burning into yours as he rose to his feet.

"Exquisite," he murmured, his lips glistening with your juices. "I could feast on this sweet pussy for hours."

Yoongi's hands skimmed down your sides to grip your hips, holding you steady as Jimin claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, the filthy eroticism making you throb with renewed need.

"My turn," Yoongi growled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. "I'm going to fuck this tight little cunt until you forget your own name."

In a dizzying whirl of motion, Yoongi spun you around to face him, his dark eyes smoldering with barely restrained lust. His soft lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. You melted against the hard planes of his body, your hands fisting in the silky fabric of his shirt.

Jimin pressed against your back, his teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder as his nimble fingers unzipped Yoongi's slacks.

"I want to watch you take her," he purred, his breath hot against your ear. "Want to see that big cock splitting her open as well as it does me.”

Yoongi groaned into your mouth, his hand tangling in your hair to angle your head for a deeper kiss. Jimin's hands pushed Yoongi's pants down his hips, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It sprang free, the swollen head already glistening with arousal. Your eyes widened at the impressive size, a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine.

"Like what you see, baby?" Yoongi purred, wrapping a hand around his thick shaft and giving it a slow pump. "This is all for you. Every hard inch."

Jimin's fingers danced down your stomach to tease your slick folds once more.

"She's dripping wet and ready for you, Yoongi," he murmured, circling your sensitive clit. "I can feel how much she needs that big cock."

Yoongi walked you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the plush bed. He lowered you down onto the silk sheets, his larger body covering yours. The heat of his skin seared into you as he settled between your spread thighs, the thick length of his erection nestling against your slick folds.

"Going to fill this tight little pussy so deep," Yoongi growled, nipping at your lower lip. "Gonna make you scream on my cock."

Jimin climbed onto the bed behind Yoongi, his hands skimming possessively over the taut muscles of his partner's back.

"Do it," he urged, his voice husky with need. "Claim her. Make her ours."

With a flex of his hips, Yoongi drove forward, impaling you on his thick shaft in one powerful thrust. A cry tore from your throat as Yoongi's thick cock stretched you deliciously, filling you to the brink. Your slick walls clenched around his pulsing hardness, your body struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. Yoongi groaned, his jaw clenching as he fought for control.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he grated out, his hips drawing back before snapping forward again. "So fucking tight and wet around my cock."

Your nails raked down his back as he set a deep, driving rhythm, each powerful thrust hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Jimin's hands roamed over both of you, his touch electric against your own overheated skin.

"She takes you so well," Jimin purred, his lips brushing Yoongi's ear.

Yoongi's hips pistoned faster, pounding into your willing body with increasing force. The obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the room, mingling with your wanton moans and the men's harsh breaths. Jimin's fingers found your aching clit, rubbing tight circles around the throbbing nub in time with Yoongi's relentless thrusts.

"That's it, take his cock," Jimin growled, pinching your clit and making you cry out. "Let him fuck you senseless. Your pussy was made for us."

The dual stimulation rapidly pushed you towards another peak, your inner muscles fluttering wildly around Yoongi's driving shaft. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as your slick heat squeezed him like a vice.

"Gonna come on my cock, baby?" he rasped, swiveling his hips to grind with every deep stroke. "Want to feel this sweet pussy milk me dry."

His filthy words combined with Jimin's skillful fingers catapulted you over the edge. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, pleasure exploding through your veins as you clenched vice-tight around Yoongi's plunging cock.

"Fuck, yes!" Yoongi roared, his own release overtaking him as your fluttering walls massaged his shaft. He buried himself to the hilt, his thick cock jerking as he emptied himself deep inside you.

Jimin stroked you both through the aftershocks, his touch gentling as the waves of bliss gradually subsided. Yoongi collapsed against you, his heavy breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin. You clung to his broad shoulders, your body trembling with the force of your release.

After a long moment, Yoongi rolled to the side, slipping out of your tender flesh with a hiss. Jimin immediately took his place, settling between your still-quivering thighs. His dark eyes raked over your flushed face and heaving breasts, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lips.

"My turn," he purred, the tip of his rigid cock nudging your slick entrance. "I've been aching to feel you stretched around me."

With a slow, deliberate flex of his hips, Jimin pushed forward, his shorter but thicker length gliding through your slick folds and into your waiting heat. A low moan escaped your kiss-swollen lips as he filled you inch by delicious inch, your sensitive walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

"God, you feel amazing," Jimin groaned, bottoming out inside you. He stilled for a moment, savoring the exquisite feel of your tight sheath gripping him like a velvet glove. "I knew you'd be perfect for us. Gonna keep you, I think."

Yoongi's fingertips skated over your nipples, the light touch reigniting the embers of your desire.

"Such a good girl, taking us so well," he praised, rolling the pebbled nubs between his fingers. "We're going to ruin you for anyone else."

Jimin began to move, his hips rolling in a smooth, sensual rhythm that made your toes curl. He angled his thrusts to drag deliberately over that sensitive spot inside you with each stroke, sending sparks of electric pleasure zigzagging through your nerves. Your hands slid over the defined muscles of his back, feeling them flex and ripple beneath your touch as he worked your body with expert skill.

"You're so sensitive," Jimin purred, circling his hips to grind his pubic bone against your throbbing clit. "I can feel your pussy clenching every time I hit that sweet spot. You were made to take our cocks, weren't you baby?"

His dirty talk made you clench hard around him, a needy whimper escaping your throat. Yoongi chuckled darkly, his fingers reaching up to lightly grasp your neck. Not squeezing yet—merely a promise and a question all in one.

Yoongi's fingers tightened ever so slightly around your throat, the pressure making your pulse pound and your pussy clench hard around Jimin's pistoning cock. Jimin immediately groaned lustily, and Yoongi smirked, his dark eyes boring into yours and promising filthy delights.

"That's it, squeeze his cock," Yoongi growled. "Show him how much you love being stuffed full and used for our pleasure."

Jimin's rhythm faltered, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your slick walls massaged his plunging shaft.

"Fuck, keep doing that," he panted, his hips snapping faster. "Milk my cock with that greedy little cunt."

The erotic depravity of being caught between them, subject to their darkest whims and basest needs, sent you hurtling towards another overwhelming climax.

Yoongi's fingers on your throat, Jimin's thick cock pounding into your soaked heat, their filthy words filling your ears—it was all too much, too intense. The coil of tension inside you wound tighter and tighter with each skilled thrust and deliberate squeeze.

"Such a good little cock sleeve," Yoongi purred, his fingers flexing around your neck. "Taking us so well, letting us use this tight body however we want. You're ours now, baby. All ours."

Jimin changed his angle, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed as a scream tore from your throat, your cunt clamping down like a vise around Jimin's cock.

"Fuck, just like that," Jimin grunted, sweat beading his brow as he fought to maintain his punishing rhythm through your clenching heat. "Gonna make me come so hard; fill this pussy up till it's leaking."

His words combined with the mind-blowing pleasure radiating from where he was so deeply embedded inside you sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy, your vision whiting out as your body convulsed around him. A hoarse cry ripped from your chest as you shattered.

Yoongi's fingers spasming around your throat intensified your pleasure to an almost unbearable level. Jimin buried himself to the hilt with a guttural shout, his hips jerking erratically as his own powerful climax overtook him. You felt the hot spurts of his release painting your fluttering walls, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your clenching heat.

"Fuck, baby, fuck!" Jimin groaned, his face contorting in ecstasy as your rippling channel milked him for every last drop.

You writhed beneath him, lost to the overwhelming sensations wracking your limp, sated body. Yoongi's fingers gentled on your neck, rubbing soothing circles over your hammering pulse.

Jimin collapsed against you, his weight a welcome blanket as you both trembled and panted, fighting to catch your breath in the aftermath of your explosive climaxes. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to the finger-shaped marks Yoongi's grip had left behind.

"So perfect for us," Jimin murmured, his voice raspy with satisfaction. "Our beautiful little baby."

Yoongi's fingers carded through your damp hair, his touch gentling as he coaxed you down from the overwhelming high.

"You exceeded every expectation," he praised, his lips brushing your temple. "I knew you would be exquisite, but the reality is beyond even my wildest imaginings."

You floated in a haze of blissful afterglow, your body limp and sated between their bodies.

Yoongi's hand smoothed over your hip as Jimin gently withdrew from your sensitive core. A whimper escaped your lips at the loss, your body clenching around emptiness. Jimin pressed a tender kiss to your collarbone before settling beside you, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your sweat-dampened skin.

"Rest now, sweet thing," Yoongi murmured, his deep voice a soothing rumble in your ear. "You've more than earned it after that performance."

You nuzzled into his warm chest, your heavy lids drifting closed as exhaustion pulled at your consciousness. A small, distant part of your mind buzzed with the implications of what you had just done—the line you had so eagerly and thoroughly crossed with your dangerously alluring bosses.

But the thoughts were hazy, slippery, unable to find purchase in your blissed-out mind. Enveloped by Yoongi and Jimin's warm, solid bodies, you let yourself drift, sinking into the decadent comfort of satin sheets and sated muscles.

"Sleep, baby," Jimin cooed, his plush lips grazing your shoulder. "We'll take care of you. Always."

The promise in his words seeped into your bones, chasing away the last tendrils of doubt.

You woke gradually, your body languid and heavy against smooth silk sheets. Confusion muddled your thoughts for a long moment before the memories of the previous night came rushing back in vivid detail—Yoongi and Jimin's magnetic pull, the all-consuming passion, the indescribable pleasure. A deep flush crept up your neck to your cheeks as you recalled the wanton way you had responded to their every touch and filthy word.

***

Soft sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting the opulent bedroom in a warm glow. You were alone in the massive bed, the rumpled sheets beside you cool to the touch. Distant sounds drifted from another room—the clatter of dishes, the rich aroma of coffee. Yoongi and Jimin's deep voices murmured too low for you to make out the words.

Slowly, carefully, you sat up, wincing slightly at the delicious ache between your thighs. The evidence of last night's passionate activities painted your body with beautiful bruises, a visceral reminder of how thoroughly they had claimed you.

Biting your lip, you slid from the bed, the plush carpet soft beneath your bare feet. A silk robe was draped over a nearby armchair, and you slipped it on, the cool fabric whispering over your sensitized skin. Hesitantly, you padded out of the bedroom, following the intoxicating scent of coffee and the rumble of masculine voices.

The open concept living area took your breath away—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline, sleek modern furniture in shades of black and chrome, a gourmet kitchen with gleaming marble countertops.

And there, leaning against the island with mugs in hand, were Yoongi and Jimin, both shirtless and breathtaking in the morning light. Their heads were bent close together, their expressions serious as they spoke in hushed tones. Your heartbeat quickened at the sight of them; memories of their hands and mouths on your body making heat pool low in your belly.

As if sensing your presence, they looked up simultaneously, their gazes locking onto you with an intensity that made your breath catch. Identical slow, sensual smiles curved their lips as they raked their eyes over your silk-clad form.

"Good morning, beautiful," Jimin purred, setting his mug aside and prowling towards you with feline grace. "We were just talking about you."

"All good things, I hope," you managed, your voice emerging huskier than intended.

Jimin reached you, his hands settling on your hips and pulling you close. "Only the best," he murmured, dipping his head to nuzzle your neck. "How deliciously responsive you were, how exquisite you looked lost in pleasure, how perfect you felt wrapped around us..."

A shiver raced down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to his nearness, his touch, his scent. Yoongi approached more slowly, his dark eyes gleaming with wicked promise.

"We were discussing your future with us," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in your bones. "Last night was only the beginning, sweet thing. A test, of sorts. One you passed with flying colors."

Your heart raced, anticipation and trepidation warring within you. "What do you mean? What kind of future?"

Yoongi reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek in a featherlight caress. "The kind of future where you belong to us, in every sense of the word." His gaze burned into you, stripping you bare. "Your mind, your body, your soul—all ours to mold and worship as we see fit."

Your breath hitched, equal parts arousal and unease swirling in your gut. "I don't understand. I thought this was just...a one-time thing. A bit of fun." Even as the words left your lips, you knew they rang hollow. The connection you felt with these men, the intensity of what you had shared, was too profound to be so easily dismissed.

Jimin's hands slid up your sides, his touch searing through the thin silk. "Oh, baby," he purred.

His lips curved into a sensual smile against your ear. "You're far too special to be just a 'bit of fun', darling. From the moment we saw you, we knew you were meant to be ours. I know we said it last night, but we meant it." His fingers trailed along your collarbone, igniting sparks beneath your skin.

Yoongi stepped closer, his hand cupping your jaw and tilting your face towards his intense gaze.

"We intend to claim you, completely and irrevocably," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "To bring you into our world and show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings."

A shiver raced down your spine, the dark promise in his words making your knees weak. "What does that mean? What world?" Your voice wavered, apprehension and intrigue warring within you.

Jimin's arms slid around your waist, pulling you back against the solid warmth of his chest.

"A world of power, luxury, and decadence," he purred. "One where your deepest, darkest desires become reality." His lips grazed the shell of your ear. "With us, there are no limits, no taboos. Only pleasure."

Yoongi's hand slid into your hair, his fingers flexing possessively. "We want to give you everything," he murmured. "All you have to do is say yes. Give yourself to us, completely."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, their words awakening a hunger inside you that both thrilled and terrified you. You knew, instinctively, that if you agreed, there would be no going back. They would consume you, body and soul.

But oh, how tempting it was.

“Yes.”

***

If you've made this far, congrats and I hope you didn't sneer too much. Also, I don't know if you noticed, but I tried to write this so that these three will be my main pairs for the rest of kinktober. So anything else I write will be these guys exploring kinks together.

#solastia #yoongi #bts #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #kpop fanfiction #bts fic #kinktober #ceo #yoonmin

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5and3nevermind · 3 months ago

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Yoonmin: the Off-Cam Pair

Introduction:

I’m in the process of trying to leave twitter. One of the things I’ve been meaning to do for awhile is bring my “off-cam pair” thread over to tumblr. Because the thread is long and contains so many images, I can’t put it all in one post, so this will be a 2- or 3-part series documenting examples of Yoongi and Jimin spending time together outside of work. I already have a tag (#in their free time) for these moments, but I wanted to save everything in one place because…that’s just what I wanted to do!

This first post will simply be the same as the beginning of that thread: an overview with a few examples. The next two posts will be additional examples, and I’ll probably divide them chronologically.

So, let’s start!

We love seeing yoonmin interact, but even better is when they tell us about spending time together off-camera.

We know that Jimin has seen Yoongi with Holly 🐕 because he’s told us, twice:

And we know Jimin is very familiar with Holly, since he even knows what kind of toys he has:

They’ve shared important moments together that we don’t fully understand:

…and moments that we (kind of) do understand, like Dynamite reaching # 1:

Jimin showed Yoongi his support before his surgery (cr: sugajimin)

…and after:

Even during Ch 2, they continue to spend time together (Yoongi is speaking here about watching Jimin practice the choreo for Vibe):

And if we look closely, we’ll often see them together in the background, like in Memories 2021:

What a lovely pair! If we listen to what they tell us, it’s clear they are close. 💛

Introduction

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#yoonmin #in their free time #collections

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jimpagne · 3 months ago

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A Jikooker rting a Taekook fic...

Hello everyone, long time no see. You're about to see me enter into rant territory, and I sincerely apologize, but I really need to get this off my chest because I am dumbfounded by this situation. I also might piss off a few jikookers, but I don't care. This is insane.

For some of you who may not be aware, a popular Jikook content account on twitter decided to repost a taekook fanfiction from one of their friends, a prominent BTS fanfiction writer by the name of yoonminology. Now, this caused extreme outrage among Jikookers, so much so that they bullied every single one of the parties involved, claiming that the Jikook account was endorsing toxic Taekookers and that yoonminology was also in support of Jimin anti accounts.

This caused the jikook account to deactivate because of how bad the bullying had become.

So, let's sum a few things up.

From what I understand, this jikook account is a friend of yoonminology, and they were expressing their support for them because they probably spent a long time writing that fic. Writing takes FOREVER, it is an exhausting yet rewarding skill, so fic writers often feel happy when they receive love and support on their works.

2. yoonminology is a multi-ship account who writes BTS fanfictions for multiple ships -- including jikook. The BTS writing space is one that I'm involved in, and this writer is well known and beloved by the community, including very popular jikook fic writers.

3. yoonminology apparently retweeted/liked a comment from someone hyping up their newest taekook fic, and this person just so happened to be a taekooker who was involved in liking hate tweets against Jimin.

4. yoonminology has never personally expressed anti-Jimin views or anti-Jikook views. For fuck's sake, they have written MULTIPLE Jikook fanfictions.

Now, I don't know why Jikookers suddenly jumped these people as badly as they did... it literally takes two seconds of common sense to realize what had happened here. Whether or not you think a jikook account should be retweeting taekook content, that's kind of an irrelevant point when it comes to the scale of bullying these people experienced.

I used to run a pretty popular writing account on twitter way back in the day, and whenever people would leave nice comments or would express excitement for my fics, I would regularly like their posts and retweet what they said. I did not individually do a background check on each person I retweeted, because that would take forever. For all I knew, these people were just happy to see a piece of media that tapped into their interests.

I believe that's what happened here, they wrote a taekook fanfiction, which in turn invites taekookers to their page, this taekooker hyped up their tweet, they liked it... end of story. If they were a Jimin anti, I promise you that most of the HUGE jikook writing accounts that support this author would not be their friend...

Jikookers, we have a problem.

I know Jikookers often like to take the moral high ground, saying that Taekookers tend to be some of the most vile people out there. Yes, in certain situations, this can be true, but a lot of these people fail to understand that not every single Taekooker is evil, not every single person who engages in Taekook content HATES Jimin or despises Jikook.

Believe it or not, a lot of writers like to write for different BTS pairings, not because they think they're real, but because they simply like the dynamic that they can creatively play with. Trust me, I used to read vmin and yoonkook fics without ever thinking that they're a thing... Fanfiction is fiction. It's not real. Should we stone the creators of Chakho or HYYH because they dared to put BTS in an alternate universe?

Fanfic writers are NOT responsible for people who cannot distinguish between fiction and reality.

But anyways, as you can see, yoonminology is a multi-ship account, they write Jikook, Taekook, Yoonkook, Yoonmin... the whole lot. This actually became another issue among these "morally superior" Jikookers, because they claimed that because yoonminology is a multi-shipper, that they don't actually really care about nor appreciate Jimin and Jungkook's bond, and that they merely fetishize it for clicks when convenient.

I was scrolling through these tweets wondering when this crazy coke rant would end.

You would be surprised by the amount of creatives in the Bangtan community, especially that of Jikook spaces, that regularly support other creators who are not Jikookers. Because it's a healthy thing to do, actually. Some of these very famous and popular Jikook content creators actually do comms for other pairings all the time!

Actually because of this entire fanfic ordeal, you have people doing witch hunts against other people for merely interacting with taekook content/art (like stopkookminpls/koousagi). Like, do you not realize how fucking crazy that is?

May I remind you that taekook as a pairing and as a concept are not responsible for Jimin's hate -- that stems from individuals who are deluded and severely mentally ill. Taehyung and Jungkook aren't asking for the people who ship them to bully their other bandmate. Sure, a lot of Jimin's haters end up being taekookers, but that doesnt mean every single person who partakes in taekook content is an active participant in all of that!

I was friends with a taekooker for multiple years and she was lovely, she wouldn't dream of hurting Jimin and loved him just as equally. These people exist, and although it's fun to point out the deluded mannerisms of the "the cult", not every single person who likes taekook engages in such behavior.

Use common sense!

Jimin and Jungkook are not just a ship.

Another issue I think we need to seriously address in this community is the "shipification" of nearly everything that Jimin and Jungkook does. I don't mean regular "omg they're so cute together" or whatever... I'm talking about the incessant need to make every single thing that they do about their existence as a ship, rather than their general existence as people.

You can see this massive shipification happen when Taehyung went to Jeju with them for Are You Sure?!, because for whatever reason, instead of some Jikookers being content with the personal decisions that Jimin and Jungkook had made (obviously being okay with him coming), they decided to form massive hate trains against Taehyung. All because he had decided to "crash" Jimin and Jungkook's vacation. All because he decided to get in the way of their ship. Some Jikookers said that they felt like skipping the Jeju episodes just because Taehyung was there... like are you serious?

Jimin is Taehyung's friend. Jungkook is Taehyung's friend. The fact that some Jikookers talk about how "the cult" sees Jimin as a persistent threat, yet they also ironically feel threatened by Taehyung's presence.

The hypocrisy.

I think if these people want to act like they have the high ground, they need to actually behave accordingly. This type of outrage over a friend supporting a friend who did no harm is absolutely insane. The way many people in this fandom treat fan artists and writers is disgusting. These people put out works for FREE. FOR. FREE. And yet these people have the audacity to bully them into deactivating.

Go out and touch grass. Fucking hell.

#jikook #kookmin #taekook #vkook #rant #im pissed #these people were acting like CHILDREN #holy shit

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sailorsoons · 4 months ago

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GET TO KNOW ME

Thank you for tagging me @shadowkoo muah muah

WHAT'S THE ORIGIN OF YOUR BLOG TITLE?

Sailorsoons was invented because sailorrhansol was shot point blank and murdered by tumblr and did not return for 22 days. I needed a blog to post the works that I had coming up for collabs so I said fuck it and birthed sailorsoons and then moved here permanently after sailorrhansol was brought back to life.

FAVORITE FANDOMS?

I really only participate in kpop fandoms. SVT is probably my favorite int terms of low stress and I'm really enjoying creating with everyone here. BTS after that but there is a lot of stress in that space in general and on twt.

MORE UNDER THE CUT

OTP(s)/SHIPNAME?

I am a Yoonmin and Verdi enthusiast. Not in the way that I think they're together, but in the way I adore their friendships and those pairings as little units mean the world to me.

FAVORITE COLOR?

Burgundy and midnight red! I also really enjoy brown in general for like... my belongings and a lot of clothes etc.

FAVORITE GAME?

I have a ton... BG3, Fallout 4, Hogwarts Legacy, Ghost of Tsushima, Spyro, Crash Bandicoot, Apex Legends and Valorant.

SONG STUCK IN YOUR HEAD?

Come Away to the Water by Maroon 5

WEIRDEST HABIT/TRAIT?

I am stuck on this because I don't know what habits or traits I have but I constantly spin my conch piercing around all day so I'm going to go with that.

HOBBIES?

I don't have a ton - mostly writing, listening to music, reading, gaming or sometimes I watch TV but I don't do that a ton. Honestly, I am almost always working or writing.

IF YOU WORK, WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION?

I am the Director of Advertising and Digital Marketing for an MLB team. I will let you wonder which club, my only hint is that it is typically a household name. I am about to start my fourth season in baseball :)

IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB YOU WISH, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

I want to be an author so bad. It's always been my dream to write and publish fantasy novels, but my job is so demanding I've never figured out how to dedicate time to trying to do that.

SOMETHING YOU'RE GOOD AT?

Impressions - I am weirdly good at them. Other random talents... archery. I can sing moderately well. And I can type really fast.

SOMETHING YOU'RE BAD AT?

I really struggle with math (even though I'm in advertising and marketing, yes), I'm not great at remembering things unless I write them down, and I'm bad at sleep!

SOMETHING YOU LOVE?

Writing, listening to music, being with my friends and gushing about the things we like, my dog.

SOMETHING YOU COULD TALK ABOUT FOR HOURS OFF THE CUFF?

Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, baseball, hockey, booktok/book discourse, anything mythology (various cultures) or ancient civ.

SOMETHING YOU HATE?

The president of the united states and the GOP. And cucumbers.

SOMETHING YOU COLLECT?

Notebooks... crystals... ummm Star Wars and anime things that I think are super cool.

SOMETHING YOU FORGET?

I forget immediate things really easily but I have a good memory in general

WHAT'S YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE?

Words of affirmation and acts of service.

FAVORITE MOVIE/SHOW?

Movie: Lord of the Rings Show: Alice in Borderland

FAVORITE FOOD?

So many different things but I fuck soooo hard with a palomilla steak and yuca frita w/ some tostones

FAVORITE ANIMAL?

Black moor goldfish, tigers and foxes.

ARE YOU MUSICAL?

Very, actually. I have a really strong ear and can replicate what I hear on most instruments.

WHAT WERE YOU LIKE AS A CHILD?

Very quiet. Only child. LOVED collecting frogs and lizards and putting them in a terrarium.

FAVORITE SUBJECT AT SCHOOL?

History and language arts by far.

LEAST FAVORITE SUBJECT?

Math and science - math because I've struggled with it, science because I had a science teacher who bullied me so much that I had to be removed from her class.

WHAT'S YOUR BEST CHARACTER TRAIT?

It's pretty difficult to REALLY upset me like it takes a lot for me to really crash out, even though I joke that I'm crashing out all the time. I'm also a really good problem solver.

WHAT'S YOUR WORST CHARACTER TRAIT?

I am insanely hard on myself. Like to a serious detriment, I never let myself breathe or fail at anything and talking me down from failure is super difficult because I never want to hear it.

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ANY DETAIL OF YOUR DAY RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

I just worked a split squad spring training game from a state that we are NOT playing in and it was very difficult to do remotely. I would have loved not to do that.

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL IN TIME, WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET?

The current president's parents so I could murder them before they conceived.

REC YOUR FAVE FANFICS (SPREAD THE LOVE):

Vice;grip by @daechwitatamic | Tripple Dog Dare by @eoieopda | Full Throttle by @diamonddaze01 | Never Shall We Die by @gyuswhore | Houdini by @highvern

TAG OTHERS TO COMPLETE (NO PRESSURE) I don't know who all has been tagged sorry if I hit you twice: @daechwitatamic @eoieopda @moni-logues @kkaetnipjeon @gyuswhore @starlightkyeom @100vern @highvern @tomodachiii and literally anyone under the sun who wants to :)

#TAG GAME #hali's journal

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jellychelley02 · 1 year ago

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the almost late night boba date ᯓᡣ𐭩

begins ≠ youth version of the mini-mini pair. i wished they had more screentime together tho coz they're so yoonmin coded.

haru x cein (｡•ㅅ•｡)♡

#begins youth #bts hyyh #min cein #park haru

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bangtaninborderland · 2 years ago

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Pairing: OT7 x Reader, || word count: 9.4k || Genre: Smut (18+)

Warning: degradation, smut, dom!everyone sub! YN/JK, fingering, ruined orgasm, oral (m receiving), milking, nipple play, bd(s)m, hair pulling, spanking, overstimulation, orgy, tons of gay stuff.

A/N: So! I wrote this in 4 days it is 9 k and it was so difficult because it is all smut, the first part continues from the last chapter meaning it didn’t start in the morning but the night before. I decided to give Yoonmin AND jikook a special scene. As for YNS back story it starts when you see two asterisks ** it ends after that paragraph. If you are not interested in it then skip it, it doesn’t massively impact the story and I wrote it so you won’t be missing anything. As always please give me your feedback. Love y’all!

p.s CONFESSIONALS ARE STILL OPEN SEND ME YOUR CHARACTER QUESTIONS!

Prev| Masterlist | next

DAY THIRTY-SEVEN

You knew you had a specific prize In mind, whether or not you could and would be granted that reward was something that left you feeling a rather dull sense of uncertainty. However, you chose to ignore this and headed straight to the producers' van as you were sure of your choice.

“YN is everything okay?” Was the first thing Sejin asked, upon seeing you he opened the door, coming down the steps to lean against the stationary vehicle. Normally you’d be more than happy to have a long conversation with him but now wasn’t the time for that, not when butterflies danced around your stomach and threatened to spew from your mouth.

You gave him a curt nod. “I want to talk about the reward..”

“What have you chosen?”

“I want one day with them, 24 hours with no rules or limits. I want to be able to touch them all and vice Versa. Is that possible?”

“I would have to talk to the producers about it, we would be two days short on time for the prompts but if you think that’s sufficient then I don’t see any issue with it. Give me 10 minutes, I’ll check in with them and see what they say.” He smiled at you before one against disappearing into the van. You didn’t try to eavesdrop as you paced back and forth outside, the fear of being told no starting to gnaw at you.

You almost jumped as a hand came to rest on your shoulder, only relaxing when you see Yoongi there. “Why do you look like a deer in headlights?”

“Because I asked for what I wanted but I’m afraid I’ll be told no.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him for a hug.

He must have been able to tell you needed the comfort as he rested a hand on your back, his fingers lazily drawing patterns over the fabric of Jungkooks shirt. “What did you ask for love?”

“To have you all for 24 hours with no rules or limits just us all together. I didn’t want to tell anyone in case they said no, I didn’t want to give false hope.”

“What are we going to do with you hm?” He pulled back, hand stroking your cheek. “Always the kindest.”

“It’s hard yoon. I don’t say it much but it’s hard, seeing everyone and not being able to touch them. Whilst we are here the primary focus is the show, I know that’s changed for us but somehow it hasn’t because we still have to complete everything given to us. I’ll never regret coming here because it led me all to you but I wish we had more time to be with each other, I wish we could all go on a date together. A big date. I know that sounds ridiculous but I want you all and I want you all to want each other and to want me. I don’t want anything to change.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before pressing a tender kiss to your cheekbone. “You’ve been keeping a little too much in sweetheart, you’ve got to let it out some time we are all here for you. Most of us couldn’t get through this show if it wasn’t for you.”

“Well, that's probably kind of because I have a vagina and I’m the lady of the house.” You laugh through light tears that had begun to blur your vision.

He shook his head, chuckling lightly. “No, your smile on a difficult day, the way you care for us individually, the way you support us all regardless of what way you do it. We need you just as much as we need Hoseok, or Taehyung, seokjin Hyung, Namjoonie, kook-ah or Jimin.

You smiled a bit. Even in the most stressful situations, any of their presence was such a pacifying one, it silenced the disquieted feelings in you, leaving you with a slight warmth and a resolve that no matter what happens everything will be okay.

“Once it’s nearer the end I think we should all gather and talk again, we could all use it.” You knew that you weren’t the only one with worries, your conversation with Taehyung just a week earlier had lingered in your mind, the real possibility that in the outside world things just wouldn’t work out.

You didn’t have any more time to discuss the matter as Sejin opened the door, both of your heads turning to face him. You couldn’t read his facial expressions so you had nothing to go off as he approached you. “Well, I’ve talked with them.”

“And?”

“You’ve got until midday on Tuesday, it’s Sunday now so that’s a little over 24 hours but the producing team said we had gotten a good amount of footage and it should still be possible to get the prompts done between Tuesday and Sunday as there’s still five days and only three left. “

“Wait really?” You turned to face yoongi who was wearing a smile just as big as yours, they all knew they could touch each other so this may have been selfish as realistically you were the only one benefitting from it yet still the doctor only smiled at you, for you. “I have to go tell them.”

You almost run away before thanking Sejin who just replied with a “yeah yeah.”

You made a note to truly thank him before the show was over, the finish line almost in view. For now, that didn’t matter, for now, you have seven amazing people to spend 24 free hours with.

You nearly tripped over the doorframe as you slipped your shoes off, only steadying yourself before rushing into the living room where everyone had gathered. “We have 24 hours, 24 hours no rules we can touch we can do whatever we can be together just as normal with no worry about being evicted.”

Everyone stood up slowly from their respective seats darted around the room, each and every face holding a look of anticipation and hope that brought a smile to your lips. “So…they said yes?”

“We have a little more than 24 hours, our time finishes at midday on Tuesday.” You explained excitedly, their faces reading back the joy you felt.

“You thought of the most perfect prize petal.” Taehyung laughed, crossing the room to take your hand in his, kissing the back of it gently.

Jungkook shuffled from one foot to another, hands clasping awkwardly at either side. “I want to kiss you so badly.”

“Then why are you waiting?” You asked daringly, raising your eyebrows only to encourage the cam boy.

“Fuck I missed this.” He rasped, hand resting atop your cheek gently as the other hand slid to your neck, gripping it lightly. The kiss embodies everything Jungkook is as a person. His soft and sweet side morphing with the flirtatious and downright sexy side of him. You almost wanted to demand he chose one - sweet or sexy, you weren’t sure you could handle him being both.

Taehyung was next. Nudging Jungkook to the side as he rested a hand atop your hip as the other gripped the back of your neck, trapping your lips against his. You moaned into his mouth as he tugged on your hair, which only caused the others to groan.

“Seokjinnie.” You called out as taehyung stepped away, making grabby hands at the older man who happily divulged you. He crossed the small space between you in two steps, long fingers caressing your face. You had almost forgotten how beautifully the man kissed, every millisecond filled with softness but also a light air of dominance. Lips both barely brushing against yours and being overwhelmingly forceful. “Fuck.” He whispered pulling away, resting his forehead against yours to allow you both time to bathe your breath.

“Where’s hobi?” You asked, looking around until you see him standing behind Namjoon.

“Can I hug you?” You asked, wanting to have the man close, as much as you respected his identity and preference it didn’t cause a faint sadness in your heart that you’d never be able to show him the love you held for him in the way you had once hoped to. As his arms wrapped around you that feeling disappeared into some dark corner of your mind, the warmth of his body against yours and the sound feeling that he was there for you just as much as anyone else even though it may be different was more than enough to make you feel complete.

“Group hug,” Jungkook shouted, plummeting into your both as everyone else joined. Even yoongi, although he will swear later he didn’t.

“Group kiss?” Taehyung asked, only to be responded with giggles and a poke to his side from Hoseok.

“I don’t want to sleep, I can finally touch you all and kiss you all, I don’t want to waste any of that time.” You sighed, everyone slowly letting go of the hug. “I missed this so much.”

Seokjin wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We did too baby but sleeping is important, we sleep early we can wake up early. I’ll get dinner started, yoon do you want to help?”

“Okay, Hyung.” Yoongi nodded giving your arm a final squeeze before walking off with seokjin, if anyone noticed the way their fingers entwined the second they were away from the group no one said anything.

Before you could move Jungkook had already wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close against him as though any distance was too far. You couldn’t say you didn’t feel the need to be close to them all, especially now there were no limits to the way you could touch them, you had never thought the rules would be an issue but then again you never anticipated falling in love with everyone here.

“What are you thinking about?” Namjoon asked from across the room, the book he had been reading for the past few days placed atop the table beside him.

You shook your head leaning back against Jungkook. “Just how much I missed this”

“C'mon Hyung, you know baby is always greedy.” Jimin teased, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“I may be greedy but so are you. I don’t ever hear you complain when I let you fuck me senseless.” You retorted, you could play dangerously too. “Taehyungie, come here.” You reached out a hand to the other. Jungkook didn’t move but relaxed one arm to pull taehyung to you. It felt thrilling to be trapped between the pair, their bodies flush against yours. You couldn’t move even if you tried and you like that far more than you cared to admit, the feeling of being helpless between two of the sexiest men you’ve ever met left you feeling dizzy your legs giving out just a little as Taehyung brought his fingers to your lips.

“Open.” His voice was demanding and left no room for argument so you didn’t, you parted your lips slightly allowing him enough space to slide his finger into your mouth. You closed your lips around the digit, swirling your tongue around the pad of his thumb. “Fuck.” He groaned. “I want to watch you fall apart piece by piece.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook called out, you could feel his cock growing against your ass which only encouraged your own arousal. “You should wait until after dinner.” What? No. That is exactly what you didn’t want. You tried shaking your head but Taehyung slid his thumb out, fingers gripping painfully into your chin. “Be patient.”

You let out a whine in protest, pulling him closer to you only for him to grab your throat. “Ah ah, don’t even try it sweetheart, quiet okay? Behave and I promise I’ll make you feel good later.”

Your mouth went dry. Completely mesmerised by the man, you were sure you were falling in love all over again. “O-okay.”

It had been a while since you felt this floaty, this pliant and willing, for a moment you felt fear before falling slack against jungkook a mist covering your mind and leaving you feeling blissful.

“Did you just?” You heard someone ask, not bothering to find out who it was. Everything felt right, you didn’t want to disturb that.

You heard a voice close to you, jimin maybe. “Subspace?”

“I think so.” You reached forward for taehyung, wanting him next to you only to be pulled away by someone else. “Come here, darling.”

You whined, trying to find your way back to taehyung. “Tae.”

“He’s coming, baby. Tae Tae is coming let’s go sit down hm?” You could recognise the feeling of namjoons hands on your arms, guiding you over to the couch.

“Jungkook go and get some water.” Jimin directed the younger, you buried yourself deeper into namjoons frame, his warmth being inviting.

You weren’t stupid you knew what was happening but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, you felt safe with them, safe enough to let them take care of everything for a little while. “Jinnie.”

“You want Seokjin Hyun?” Namjoon asked, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

You nodded, or at least you think you did. “Yoongi too.”

“Okay okay.” He laughed calling the others in.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked walking over to where you were nestled against Joon. “Is she okay?”

“Tae was having a little fun with her and she seemed to slip.” Jungkook answered, taking a seat at the end of the couch. “She said she wanted both of you.”

“Hoseok can you go and watch the food?” Jin would have asked one of the youngers but he was sure something would burn and Hoseok was the only one who knew how to season the meat right.

The dominant stepped forward, happy to help, he was always happy to help. You didn’t want him to help. You didn’t want anyone to do anything but be around you. “No!” You mumbled, wanting them all around you. “Stay.”

Yoongi was in front of you, hands on your face. Hobi stood behind him, close enough you could touch him. “We all need to eat darling, so do you.”

“I’ll be gone a few minutes and then I will come back and sit with you okay?” Hoseok spoke up, reaching out to grab your hand. “Be good for me, I know you want us all here with you I promise once we all eat we can make a pillow fort across the floor and all sleep downstairs.”

You loved this side of Hoseok, it wasn’t one you found yourself the pleasure of seeing often so whenever it did make an appearance you filed the memory away in your mind for safekeeping. “okay but be quick.” You found yourself pouting, if you weren’t feeling so floaty you may have been hit with a wave of embarrassment but that consciousness was too far out of reach.

“Can you drink some for me sweetheart?” Jin bent down, brushing your hair away from your forehead. You moved forward, allowing yourself to drink from the bottle with ease before sitting back against namjoon. “So good baby.”

You smiled at the praise, head lulling against the philosopher. “Love you.” You whispered, wanting them all to know how you felt, even if it wasn’t a huge deceleration those words held a meaning you wished some day to explain.

Everyone responded, at least you think everyone did. The blanket that clouded your mind had only caused you to feel tired and despite the dinner you knew was being cooked there was no good reason to hold back from sleep, so you didn’t. With Namjoons body against you and the comforting voices of the others around the room, you slipped into dreamland peacefully.

“She’s asleep I think.” Jimin touched namjoons shoulder. “Want me to move so you can lay her down?”

“No it’s okay, I don’t want to disturb her.” Namjoon refused, leaning back to give himself more room.

“That was definitely different, she’s never gone into a submissive headspace like that before. At least not with me.” Hoseok spoke up, leaning against the wall. “Jimin?”

Jimin pursed his lips together, rethinking all the times there had ever been a scene between the two of you before shaking his head. “She’s never been like that before whenever we have gotten into a scene, yes she has her moments of being in a submissive space but never to that extent and never that fast.”

“It’s not like it’s a bad thing.” Tae smiled, head resting on Jungkooks shoulder. “Right?”

“It’s not bad I’ve seen people fall harder and faster but it’s more so the reasoning for it, you weren’t extremely dominant with her and it didn’t become sexual. Sometimes entering a submissive space isn’t caused by pleasure it can be caused by stress, those who have fallen into submissive headspace can often use that place to keep them grounded or even relaxed if they are experiencing stress or going through a stressful situation. I think the emotions that come along with the rules being lifted for 24 hours only have her all the more reason to submit.”

“Let’s let her sleep until dinner, call me if she wakes up.” Seokjin didn’t wait for a response before turning towards the kitchen Yoongi following behind him.

—-

“Baby?” You felt yourself shaking lightly, pulling you from the dream you had just been living in. “You gotta wake up petal dinner is ready.”

“Jin?” You mumbled, reaching for the man. The absence of namjoons body against yours left you feeling cold. “Did I sleep long?”

He wrapped an arm around you, helping you sit up. “No, only about thirty minutes give or take. How are you feeling?”

You took his hand, steadying yourself as you stood. Still sleepy you chose to rest your head against his shoulder earning a light chuckle from you. “M’ okay. Not feeling like that anymore”

“It was an adorable sight to see,” Seokjin replied, a hand rubbing up and down your back. “

You groaned wanting to throw yourself back on the couch to sleep. “Food.”

“Sure sweet girl let’s go get you some food.” It felt good to be like this with him, this natural feeling to your conversation and actions with one another. “Jimin said he wanted to tell you something.”

You nodded towards seokjin, thanking him for waking you before taking a spare seat between Jimin and Namjoon. “Feeling better?” Jimin leaned in, questioning with a smirk.

You pushed him lightly, embarrassment seeping in. “Shut up.”

“Wow someone woke up feisty.” Hoseok laughed, passing you the salad bowl. You lightly snatched it out of his hand, sticking your tongue out. You ignored his teasing as you turned to Jimin.

“Seokjin said you had something to say?” You raised an eyebrow, cutting into the steak on your plate.

“I asked Sejin if we could do the date on Wednesday, it wouldn’t interrupt with your time to be with everyone else. He said it was okay as long as you were fine with it.” He explained, filling your glass with water. “You should enjoy this time.”

Despite your grogginess and the mild irritation seeping through your bones at the teasing happening just across the table, you felt so much love and pride that these were the people you’d found yourself falling in love with. Kind-hearted and considerate.

A shy smile melted across your face, eyes softening at him. “Thank you. Seriously Jimin, that means so much to me.”

“Don’t thank me for that, there are many things you could thank me for but now that. I wish you could have us all the time. How does it really feel?” He asked, his question quite in comparison to the chatter around you.

You held the food close to your mouth, raising an eyebrow at him. “How does what feel?”

“The show, us, everything.” There was a weight to his question you were unsure if you liked.

“The show is fine, there are moments I find myself questioning why we don’t all leave just to be rid of the rules but I think the time we get with one another and of course ending the prize keeps us all here. With us I feel good, happy, I think we all have concerns about the future but apart from that I’m okay.”

He looked over you, as though hoping to deduce whether or not you were being truthful, eventually, he nodded. “I’m always here for you.”

You once again thanked him, looking down at your plate to prevent an onslaught of unwanted tears at his sudden and unexpected affection. You thanked the gods when his attention returned to his food as he began talking to Yoongi.

The meal passed quickly, everyone checking in with you now an again whenever their own conversation ended. You didn’t feel like talking much instead you opted to watch them all, Seokjin was in a heated debate with Hoseok about a game they had both played courtesy of Jungkook, eventually the younger threatening to delete their progress if they didn’t stop. It was endearing how despite being the youngest Jungkook still carried an aura of maturity to him. Namjoon had given his opinion a few times on the conversation between yoongi, taehyung and Jimin. Namjoon had asked Yoongi what it was like to be a gynaecologist and exactly why he had chosen that career, it led to yoongi explaining his entire university experience with Jimin and Taehyung asking questions in between their completely obvious game of footsies.

**The outside world wasn’t perfect, you knew that. You’d had many fights with your parents over the years about your choices at school, choosing to take art with a desire to make beautiful things in the world. Eventually, they had grown to be accepting of your “outward” choices. You found a knack for nudity, the rawness that came from seeing something in its natural element. Once or twice you’d found yourself modelling for art classes, though you’d never tell your parents that. Being an only child wasn’t easy, it was definitely lonely growing up but your parents did whatever they could to keep you entertained, they gave you everything they had and then some. You remember the conversations your mother would have with you about finding someone who brought you the same happiness you felt then, who respected you and loved you as much as they did. It was at that moment, your eyes darting from face to face you realised you’d done just that. You’d found people you could call family. **

The night passed rarely quickly, you’d offered to help clean up only to be told that Jungkook would bare the task tonight after losing a game of rock paper scissors with Hoseok. The game you once found no meaning in had become a staple for resolving issues or making decisions, although you did notice how wrong that could lead things to being. You’d enjoyed watching them all, you had laughed so much at one point after Namjoon had snorted water out of his nose when Taehyung had joked and said his cock was showing through a hole in his pants. All in all the night was perfect.

Hoseok followed through on his promise of you all sleeping in the same room in a makeshift bed, limbs entwined with one another, soft kisses and rough groping and light moans shared between you all. The day had been exhausting with the tasks earlier and then the sudden slip into sub-space. Sleep was well welcomed, and everyone slowly fell into a comforting quietness.

You once again heard sweet whispers of “goodnight.” In your ear just as the curtains of sleep converted you.

The morning started off with a bang, literally. To be more specific it started off with a very tired Namjoon knocking off 4 glasses from the shelf in an attempt to get some water. You’d all jumped up, fright and various stages of panic set across your faces as you all run to check what had happened only to be met with Namjoon shouting “Be careful, there’s glass.”

“What- who? Namjoon?” Seokjin stuttered, eyes flickering from the shards on the floor to the open cupboard. “How.”

“Well, Hyung I tried to reach back for the glass I like but then when I was pulling it out one fell and then I tried to catch the others but that led to me dropping the one I liked and then I tried to catch that one which meant all the others fell. I’m sorry it was an accident.” There was an immaturity to Namjoons clumsiness but it was something you found endearing. He was a gentle giant with no perception of his surroundings. “I’ll clean it up.” He offered shyly, about to move before Yoongi shouted to him.

“Don’t, wait there do not move.” He rushed to the door, grabbed some slippers, throwing them to Namjoon who just about caught them. “Put them on and step over here, mind the glass as much as you can. Hobi get the broom and find something to sweep it into. Everyone else go and sit in the living room, watch the floor for any shards that may have flown across the room.”

It took ten minutes before yoongi had finished cleaning up the mess, you all dispersed, heading off to brush your teeth and freshen up before returning to the living room where yoongi had been waiting waving a hand in disregard at Namjoons countless apologies. “It’s fine it’s all clean now just be careful in case of any stray shards.”

“Thanks for cleaning it Hyung. Jimin passed him a smile before winning at you.”

“There’s only one good way to spend this day.” Taehyung stood, rushing to pull yoongi to the couches.

Jimin leant forward, resting his arms on his legs. “And what’s that pup?”

“An orgy.”

“I’m in.” Jungkook responded with no hesitation, standing up as if almost to volunteer.

“I don’t see why not.” Seokjin added, nudging yoongi who sat back with a smirk across his lips, eyes twisting to something filled with lust.

Namjoon coughed, pressing his palms together. “What do you think YN?”

“I want you all. Maybe that makes me greedy but I don’t want to waste a second of this day.”

“Hobi?” You turned, facing the one who had been quietest throughout the whole discussion.

“Only if jimin goes down on me.” He laughed, a bright smile across his face however you could tell he was serious. “Are you in?”

“Please you couldn’t even last, let’s make it a real bet. I make you cum in 5 minutes and you don’t fuck anyone for a week. I lose and I’ll not fuck anyone but YN for a week.”

“Doesn’t really seem fair.” Hoseok smirked, his eyebrows raising as he seemed to have come up with another idea. “You’ll have ruined orgasms an entire week.”

“Fine whatever, not like I’m going to lose anyway.” Jimin squared his shoulders, almost as if promising he would be the lone survivor of another crazy bet.

Jungkook broke the tension as he threw down a pillow, raising a fist. “May the best cock win.”

“Jungkook no.” Yoongi laughed, the younger boy jumping from his spot only to wrap himself around the other man.

“Or what?” The younger teased, picking up the pillow from the floor. You watched as he swayed his hips at the doctor who only tightened his grip on the couch. “I don’t see you doing anything Hyung.”

“Jungkook.” Yoongis's voice was laced with an unspoken demand, it was always interesting and extremely hot to watch the little moments where they would fight for dominance considering you lived in a house with seven others you didn’t see it half as much as you would have liked to.

“I want Jinnie.” You called out, the older man’s attention on you within an instant, his body colliding with you as his lips devoured you as though he was starved. His hands were firm on your hips keeping you still as you tried to press against him.

“Let’s get these clothes out of the way baby girl, I want to see you.” He mumbled against you, barely waiting for a nod before pulling your shirt over your head, your shorts following Instantly.

He pulled you back towards the couch, pulling down his own pants before taking a seat on it, you climbed on top of him, aligning his cock with your entrance.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you slid onto his cock, his length filling you up. Your cunt stretched around his bulging cock. “Fuck you’re so perfect.”

You giggled at the compliment. “Says the literal Angel.”

“Darling if you keep complimenting me like that I’m going to “

You began riding him before he could finish his sentence, he pulled you closer, kissing you as you continued riding him. “Fuck you feel so fucking good.” He groaned, his head thrown back allowing you to leave marks up his neck.

You felt a hand in your hand pulling you back, their hand tangled in your hair. You were met with a dark-eyed yoongi. “Keep riding him.”

The command was short but it only encouraged you to grind down, riding your hips in circles as Yoongi kissed you. “Open your mouth.”

You opened your mouth, Seokjin groaning as he watched Yoongi spit into your mouth.

“Come here,” Seokjin grunted, pulling you toward his mouth. You knew what he was doing, both of you kissed tasting yoongi between you.

“Hyung.” You heard taehyung call. You turned to look, watching as taehyung fell to his knees, eagerly taking Yoongis cock down his throat. Yoongis moans and curses only turned you on more, your pussy tightening around seokjins cock.

Jin tapped your leg. “Fuck get up baby. On your hands and knees.”

You moved around, climbing onto the couch on your hands and knees, arching your back as much as possible to allow the man access to you.

You bit your lip as he slid in, his cock on the larger side making you feel stretched. “Let me hear you, baby.” He whispered in your ear, his body flush against your back as he thrusts up into you.

You pushed back against him, a growl spilling from his lips. “Fuck I love you, so perfect sweetheart, so good.”

You moaned at his sudden declaration, his cock pounding into you the lewd sounds of skin slapping echoing off the walls. “Love you my jinnie, oh- oh I’m –“

“You can hold on baby, not yet.” He grunted, pulling your hair back as he straightened up, mercilessly fucking into you as deep as possible. You felt your eyes roll back, feeling drunk from the pleasure, your body slumped the energy you had to hold yourself up drained.

You lay there for a few more seconds, incoherent mumbles and pleas slipping from your mouth hands reaching back to touch him, you felt as he slipped his hand into yours. Leaning forward once more to press kisses to your spine. “I’m going to cum.”

“Don’t…don’t pull out..” you whined, “wanna be full.”

“Whatever you want princess.” He chuckles, his voice low. He thrust a few more times before he fell forward, your orgasms hitting you at the same time. You shuffled around, managing to lay on your back as he rested between your tits. “You’re so beautiful, you did so good baby I’m so proud of you.” He whispered, his hand running up and down your tight as you watched everyone else.

Taehyung had been with Yoongi, the younger grinding down on the doctor's thigh. Lazy kisses are shared between them.

You watched as Hoseok sat on the couch beside you. Turning your attention to him as he called out a soft. “Come here.” .You shuffled over to him, legs still shaky from the orgasm Seokjin gave you. “Turn around. Let me look at you.”

You turned, facing away from him yelling as he landed an unsuspecting slap to your ass cheek, reaching down to rub the spot h before he gripped your wrist, pulling you towards him. “You look so pretty with my marks all over you. The perfect little slut.”

“Ugh- Hoseok.” You groaned out as his fingers came up to play with your nipples, alternating between pulling them and flicking them between his fingers. With a particular painful pinch, he leant closer to you. His lips right by your ear. “What was that darling?”

“Master.” You whispered, your hands squeezing his thighs as his fingers continued to tease your cunt. “Fuck please sir.”

“What’s your colour?” He asked, a moment of concern flashing over his face, only disappearing when you whine a desperate “green.”

“Tell me exactly what you want.” He rasped, his free hand coming to wrap around your throat,

Hoseok stilled your hips, essentially leaving you cock warming him as taehyung grabs your jaw, guiding your lips to his cock. “You’re going to take care of him, you’re going to stay still until he cums down your throat. If you move at all I’m going to tie you up and let everyone use you as their little glory hole for the next - well - however long they want to. After all, you love having cock in you, don’t you? In fact, that may make you a little too happy. Hm?” Hoseoks voice rasped against you, hand still firm on your chin as he suddenly thrusted into you, causing you to emit half a scream.

“Yn is so pretty for us isn’t she baby boy ?” You hear Jimin's voice sweet sounding but laced with a poison that only makes you want more, if you hadn’t known him well and been overly exposed to this side of him you’d think he was just being kind, reassuring, but from the way, Jungkooks eyes were half-lidded, his head lulling to the side as jimin continued draining his cock you could tell it was anything but kind, it was downright dangerous.

You were a little shocked to see Namjoon and Seokjin across the side of the room, seokjin underneath his younger as yoongi ran a hand through his hair, the therapist pulling seokjin to allow his back to rest against his chest whilst Namjoon continued to mark the elder, a trail of beautiful bruises already forming across his skin.

Taehyung tapped your cheek, bringing your attention back to his throbbing cock. “Open baby.”

You opened your mouth, letting your jaw go slack.

Taehyungs cock was massive, you could feel it hit the back of your throat despite the fact that half of his cock was still out of your mouth, despite your eyes watering you relaxed, breathing through your nose as you took the last of him. “Fuck your mouth is so perfect, makes my cock feel so good.” He groaned, a hand reaching to caress your hair.

Hoseok shifted underneath you, his cock massaging your walls causing you to clench around him. Utter pleasure rocked through your body as you jolted on Hoseoks cock as taehyung tucked your throat. “You’re finally being useful, taking cock so well. Maybe I’ll reward you and let you cum.” You did everything you could to restrain your hands, wanting so badly to bring yourself to the edge, the dominants filthy words going straight to your pussy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could still see jimin and Jungkook, jimin had Jungkook pinned underneath him, Jungkooks bigger frame looking so much smaller under the man as he milked his cock. Jungkook fighting underneath him from overstimulation but still taking it all. “You’re such a good boy.” Jimin had whispered, “My perfect baby boy taking whatever I give him. So perfect, think you can cum again for me?”

Jungkook let out a desperate whine, shaking his head no. “Hyun- ah, jimin please, please it’s fuck it’s too much.” He groaned, knuckles white as he clenched his fists.

“Colour baby?” Jimin asked, slowing down his strokes to brush Jungkooks hair from his eyes. “Tell Hyung.”

Jungkook jerked up, hissing as Jimins thumb ran over the slit on his tip. “G-green Hyung.”

“You look so beautiful like this, maybe I should keep you like this all too myself. Take some pretty pictures of you? Maybe I’ll come on your little cam show and remind everyone you belong to me. Make them watch as I tease your pretty cock.” Jimin squeezed around the base of Jungkooks cock, his lips morphing into a sadistic grin. “Maybe I’ll see how sensitive your balls are, I could play with them whilst I leave your cock tied up to a vibrator, if you begged enough I’d even put one inside your ass.”

“Ngh, hyu- hyung- ah- I wanna be a good boy for you.” Jungkook was beautiful, he looked ethereal with tears streaming down his face from the overwhelming pleasure jimin was delivering to him. “Feels s-so good.”

“What do you say, baby?” Jimin teased. Moving to take the youngers nipple into his mouth.

Jungkooks back arched off the couch as jimin bit down on his nipple, his hand reaching to massage the cam boy's balls. “Than- thank you jiminie.” Jimin gave his nipple one last bite before pulling off. Trailing his tongue down Jungkooks torso.

“Such a polite boy. “ jimin murmured. “I want to cum inside of you.”

“Wa-want your cock. I’ll be good pl-please I want-“ Jungkook whined. “ please.”

Jimin had met a lot of submissives, Jimin had fucked a lot of submissives but there was something about Jungkook, something about the way he whined, the way he tried so hard to keep his hands to himself, how hard he tried to do exactly what was asked of him. He was perfect. “Fuck. You’re a fucking sight to see.”

“Turn around baby boy let me prep you.” Jimin helped Jungkook move, his legs unsteady from the continuous teasing not to mention the two orgasms Jimin had already ripped from him. “Such a beautiful ass, wanna see you dressed up for me darling.” Jimin massaged Jungkooks thighs, hand edging closer to his entrance.

Jimin stepped away, earning a protesting groan from Jungkook. “Just getting lube baby. Be patient.”

Jungkooks protest silenced, looking around the room at the other house members. Each of them entwined in some way, their own pleasure being chased through various means. He looked over to you, giving you a shy smile followed by a flirty wink, his body pushing back when he felt jimin behind him once again.

You couldn’t respond to Jungkook,, taehyung still fucking your throat. Hiis thrusts becoming sloppy. “Gonna-gonna cum.” Taehyung grunted. Hand-fisting your hair becoming painful but enjoyably so.

“Did I give you permission?” You whimpered at the question, despite it being directed towards Taehyung, the man tending as to prevent himself cunning as he shook his head no. “Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll let you.”

“P-please can I cum.” He mumbled, hand still lazily caressing your hair even though he was struggling to hold back, if you weren’t dripping with arousal you may have found the action cute.

“P-please can I cum.” Hoseok mocked, laughing. “Pathetic boy. Show me how well you can cum. Show YN just how much you enjoyed using her throat.”

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice, with no more than five thrusts he was on the brink of cumming, just before you could prepare to swallow you were being pulled back. Taehyung almost cried at the ruined orgasm. “B-but.”

“Ah, no buts baby. You got to cum, didn’t you? Wasn’t that nice of me?” The dominant teased, smirking. Taehyung couldn’t say no, he couldn’t deny that he got to cum. “Would you prefer next time I keep you on edge?”

Taehyungs eyes went wide, head shaking in a panic. “No Sir, thank you.”

“Good boy, you did so well.” Hoseok smiled at him, hand running through his hair as Tae sat down beside him on the couch. “Now to take care of you, darling. Do you want me to fuck you or are you at your limit?”

“I’m okay just, no more teasing please.” You whined, grinding down on his cock.

He laughed. “Too needy. I spoil you too much.”

“You don’t spoil me enough Sir.” You teased, rocking your hips. “Please fuck me?”

“Whatever you want brat.” Hoseok hooked his arms around yours, keeping you stable as he began to slide his weeping cock in and out of your cunt.

You let yourself be dragged around like a rag doll. His grip was definitely tight enough to bruise but you didn’t care as you pushed back onto him every time he thrusted, his cock ramming against your happy again and again making your legs fail underneath you. Hoseok supported the entering of your weight as you both came to a climax. “Gonna cum.” You mumbled, the words barely coherent, an orgasm brimming for the second time. “Please.”

“Cum over my cock.” he gave one final thrust against your gspot. His fingers massaged your clit, you weren’t a screamer, nor were you a squirter but you became one as his teeth sank into your shoulder. His cock pulsing inside of your pussy as he cum. “That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, your orgasms both coming to an end as he slowly pulled out of you. A hand under your chest stops you from falling face-first onto the floor as your legs have out. “Can you stand for me, baby?”

You shook your head no. “Not after you and seokjin fucking me.”

“Ah yes, the two biggest cocks.” He laughed, guiding you to sit on the couch. “Taehyungie could you go and get a wet cloth for YN?”

You’d almost forgotten his presence, turning to look at the man, his face utterly relaxed. “Okay.”

“You did so good today darling you were so patient, I’ll miss our scenes together.” He frowned a little, making you smile.

“Only a few more weeks, besides I’m sure jimin will let you watch whenever he and I have one.” You knew what the comment would do to him, seeing his scowl you held your hands up half-heartedly in defence. “Kidding.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He half-panted, taking the wet cloth from taehyung and bringing it to clean you up.

“There’s definitely cum on the couch.” You heard yoongi mumbling, he was sprawled out on the floor, seokjin beside him. Your face flushed at the sight of them noticing your eyes lingering on them. Between all eight of you, there wasn’t a single piece of clothing in sight. Jimin and Jungkook sat across from you, Jungkook cradled in Jimins arms, both of them seemingly somewhere else.

Taehyung was right, an orgy was a great way to spend the day.

—————

“I wanted to talk to you all about something.” Jungkook mumbled, his eyes focused on the window as though he was too afraid to meet anyone’s gaze. The attention shifted to him instantly. “I was thinking about it actually.”

Everyone had gone to shower, you had the pleasure of sharing yours with Seokjin and Taehyung. Both men insisting on taking care of you, definitely a form of repayment for the way they temporarily affected your ability to walk. The rest of the day had been spent playing board games, light kisses being shared between everyone, the touching non-stop. The atmosphere was calm so Jungkooks urgent demeanour had you worried.

“What’s wrong baby?” Jimins voice was tired, clearly, the sex knocking out any residual energy he had. “Talk to us.”

“What if we live together after here? We worked well being here together I have some savings we could pitch in and get a place together somewhere equal to where you all work. I was thinking about moving to Seoul permanently, I couldn’t be without you all. I know it would take a lot of time and wouldn’t be an easy decision I don’t know maybe this is a ridiculously childish idea, tae is here, Namjoonie Hyung is here, hobi Hyung is here, YN is here, yoongi Hyung could move we could all help him, jimin Hyung could move too it would be perfect.”

“Kook that’s… big.” Yoongi breathed, arm tightening around jimin. “I think we would all really need to talk about it. Jimin what would you think about moving?”

Jimin shrugged, hand grazing through the maknaes hair. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it I’d have to find work here but I wouldn’t be opposed. My life in Busan seems small compared to what we all have here.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look at jobs around here, Hyung do you have any contacts here in Seoul?” Yoongi shifted to face Seokjin who was sitting with a grim across his red raw lips.

“I do, a few actually. I could pass you their contact information.”

“Hobi what do you think?” You sat up, looking at the man who had been quiet throughout the whole exchange.

“Well you all know I’m aro so I don’t see-“

His words are cut off by taehyung placing a hand across his mouth abruptly, slightly shocking the man. “If you say something like “I don’t see why you’d want me there” I will make sure no one has sex with you for the rest of the time here. You are just as much a part of us as Namjoon Hyung or Yoongi Hyung. Whether it’s romantic or not you have just as much of an invitation as everyone else here does. This is your choice too.”

“Oh.” The dominant breathed, a rand running over his face as though to refresh himself, he sat for a few minutes eyes filtering from one body to the next before he smiled, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind it, besides having roommates would be kind of fun.”

“YN?” Taehyung called tentatively, reaching to wrap your hand in his. “What do you think pretty?”

You blushed at the unfamiliar pet name, your cheeks a light hue of red. “I want you all, maybe I’m spoiled but if we could all be together in one house like this for as long as we stay together I’d love that. It would be just like this without the cameras.”

“So what does this mean? Are we officially in a relationship and planning to move in?”

You show a look to Hoseok who seemed to frown slightly at the mention of being in a relationship. “How about we don’t call it that.”

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows pinched.

You shook your head laughing. “Let’s not call it a relationship, we all have our own dynamics with each other but we are all entwined like some old tree with a thousand branches. I think we would need a week of planning to officially label everything between each and every one of us so why don’t we call it something else? Something inclusive.”

“I think that sounds better, we aren’t just a relationship, we also have Hoseok-ah to consider.” Seokjin spoke up, his words were always filled with care for those around him whilst simultaneously being filled with knowledge and understanding.

“What about affinity? We could say we are in an affinity.” Yoongi supplied, some smiles being traded across the room.

“Why affinity?” Jungkook questioned, head resting against Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin kisses his hair. His hand linking their fingers as he began to explain. “Affinity has a beautiful definition, it is a word used to say you have a deep understanding of someone, a similarity and a kinship to them. It’s basically the description of a bond without labelling it as such.”

“I like that.” He breathed, eyes closing before opening them again as though he has remembered something important. “You’re all mine though.”

“Even you my hobi Hyung.” He giggled, reaching a foot out to touch the other's leg.

“Move your weird toes from me right now.” He shouted, arms waving as Jungkook sunk down further, toes reaching across as far as he could.

“What’s the matter Hyung it’s just feet. I pegged you as a foot kink man.” Jimin giggled, everyone, pausing at the honorific before turning back to a mildly disturbed Hoseok.

“Shut up jimin, Jungkook move if you want to keep your toes.”

“Jin Hyung where is your knife.” He shouted, tramping towards the kitchen before yoongi could grab his waist, pulling him onto the pile of pillows beside him. “Calm down there sunshine let’s not decapitate anyone’s toes today.”

Hoseok shot him a glare as if to say he would be next if he didn’t stop talking. Yoongi laughed, muffling it with a cough. “Well then, affinity it is.”

“I love you all so much.” You brushed away the tears dampening your cheek, happiness overwhelming you. A few “I love yous.” Resounded back followed by a few kisses shared between different bodies. Hoseok looking content but also out of place. You shuffled closer to him as he removed himself from between Seokjin and Yoongi. You reached out your hand, just enough for him to wrap his little finger around yours and with that you spoke a silent promise.

You’d do whatever you could to keep them all happy.

You were more than content watching them break off into their own smaller conversations as you all set up for the night in the makeshift bed. Thankful for jimins suggestion to recreate the bed from the night before. You didn’t know how long you’d watched them for but your eyes became droopy, their voices guiding you into a blissful sleep.

Jimin and Jungkook watched you drift off, arms and legs a tangled heap. “How was it today baby?” Jimin turned to Jungkook, his fingers drawing patterns on the cam Boys thigh.

The younger sat, contemplating the entirety “Good, was a lot but good.”

“That makes me happy to hear, you were really serious about wanting us all weren’t you bun?” Jimin smiled, his eyes bright.

Jungkook blushed, nodding. “I just really love you all. I still want to get to know everyone. Even you Hyung.”

“What if you tell me something about you and I’ll tell you something about me? We can start learning right now.” Jimin offered, earning a pleased look from Jungkook.

“I really like toe socks,” Jungkook responded wholeheartedly, as though it was his biggest secret. Jimin couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, lightly pushing the younger.

“THAT’S your thing? I might just have to call it all off now, that’s definitely a deal breaker.” Jimin loved to tease, especially when it made the man he had begun to love smile like that. “They are actually good for you. I would say my thing is” he paused, wanting to give something equal to Jungkooks revelation. “If I ever have a bad day, I always drink hot chocolate.”

“If you ever seem sad I’ll make you one, I make good hot chocolates.” Jungkook smiled storing the fact away for when it was most necessary. “One more?” He raised an eyebrow, only continuing to talk once jimin has nodded. “I love being a cam boy but I also want to do more, something mentally.” Jungkook confessed. Jimin could understand that.

“I love being a porn star but I want to find what else there is in the world, I want to grow.” He had the same feeling, wanting to do something that didn’t require his body, not that he didn’t enjoy his work and held no embarrassment over it, in fact, he was fiercely proud but he always wanted to find what else in the world would be good for him.

“Maybe we can find things together?” Jungkook mumbled, hand reaching up to play with Jimins hair.

“I’d like that.” Jimin smiled, leaning down to break the space between them to give the younger a kiss, relishing in the small whimper Jungkook let out when he bit down on his lip. “Let’s get sleep baby boy.”

“Goodnight Hyung.”

“Goodnight jungkookie.”

——

Yoongi hated being woke up, Yoongi hated being waken up at 3 am, Yoongi hated being waken up by 3 am by a half-naked Jimin, although that may have been more so because of the fact he was far too tired to fully appreciate the youngers body.

“What jimin,” Yoongi grumbled, burying his head into another pillow.

He could have used that said pillow to hit the other when he grabbed his arm pulling him away from the comforts of the makeshift floor bed. “I need to talk to you Hyung.”

“Can't it wait until the morning?” Yoongi sighed, still following the dominant hand in hand.

“Nope.” Jimin popped his lips, the sound definitely would have gone straight to yoongis dick if he wasn’t half asleep.

Once they were both safely inside Yoongi's bedroom jimin pulled him to sit on the bed. “Are you really thinking about moving?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t see why not, I love Daegu but I love being with you all too.”

“Hyung,” Jimin called out, his hand reaching to touch Yoongis fingers before retreating. “You’re more reserved, not reserved but you, you show your love differently and it’s, I guess sometimes I feel lonely in that.”

“You aren’t lonely jimin-ah we are all here for you. If there’s something you need to talk about we will all listen.” Yoongi reassured him, his own hand edging closer to the other. “Talk to Hyung.”

Jimin stirred for a moment, he liked that. Weirdly, he liked how that felt. “I wouldn’t have much in Seoul. All my clients are around Busan. What if this doesn’t work outside of here and I take that step and it falls apart?”

Yoongi sat for a moment, breath heavy. “We can’t tell the future but sometimes things have to start with a simple step. You don’t lose things by loving you lose things by not taking risks. Getting into the prom industry definitely wasn’t easy right?” Yoongi paused giving Jimin a chance to respond, which he did with a nod. “That’s my point, you took a chance and it worked out well for you. If you find there’s something you want to do more then you should go for that too. We don’t ever grow by limiting ourselves to one thing forever, taking risks is a part of life, it’s a part of humans. We will fail and succeed but every attempt is worth it.”

Jimin didn’t realise just how much he needed to hear that, just how much the words would hit him where he was most needing it but it did, the porn industry allowed you to meet tons of people, people you would get intimate with and people you wouldn’t but very rarely was there any personal connection. He hadn’t realised how lonely he become until he was surrounded by people who cared for him, knew him, wanted him. Not just for a scene or a chance at getting known in the community but wanted him for him.

Before Yoongi could process the situation Jimin was lunging forward, pulling him into a hug. A small sob spilt from his lips as he whispered “Thank you Hyung.”

Yoongi had never heard Jimin cry, he had never had to hug him like this. He pulled the younger away, wiping his tears from his soft cheeks. Yoongi didn’t know jimin deeply but he loved him, he loved him the way he loved seokjin or the way he loved YN. Yoongi loved jimin enough to bring his hand to cup his face, pulling him closer to him. Jimin whined lightly as yoongi kissed him with all the energy he could muster. “Let Hyung take care of you.”

“Okay. Hyung can take care of me.” Jimin rasped, falling back into the bed, his elder there to catch him. Yoongi would always be there to catch Jimin, to catch all of them.

This was his family.

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