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oddinary4bts · 2 months
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To Give a Helping Hand | jjk
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☆summary: when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.
☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)
☆genre: smut, idol!au
☆warnings: unedited, curses, explicit content: masturbation. that's it, that's the whole thing. Cumshot on his hand tattoos. Jungkook is hella horny for reader and jerks off thinking about her - fantasies of oral sex (male and female receiving), of unprotected sex, of rough sex, of hickeys and marking (scratches on the back), of shower sex, of spanking, of choking, of creampies, of clit play, of fingering and squirting. Multiple orgasms, lowkey pain kink and praise kink (let me know if I forgot something)
☆word count: 1.8k (I think it's the shortest thing I've ever written on here lmao)
☆a/n: pure unedited sins bc mr jeon jungkook makes me horny despite being in the army. hope this doesn't disappoint lmaooo thank you to @wintaerbaer for her help with the banner (it would have been a horrible mess without your guidance) and for encouraging me to write this!! love you Ari <3333
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You’re driving him insane.
You. Are. Driving. Him. Insane.
Insane.
Every time Jungkook sees you at the gym, he goes insane. Completely, utterly, insane. He thinks there has to be a better word in the dictionary to describe what you do to him but, alas, he can’t find it.
So insane it is, and he tries to live up to the name.
He’s been home for five minutes, and he’s already in his bed, dick so hard he thinks it’ll explode. Because of course you had to be doing squats today, in those way too tight biker shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Your thick ass, stretching the fabric so much he thinks he spied a thong underneath…
Jungkook grunts, hiding his eyes behind his arm, trying to erase the picture from his mind. But he can’t. You’re everywhere – behind his closed eyelids, or a ghost in his room when he opens his eyes again.
It’s been that way since the very first day he saw you at the gym. Jungkook caught sight of you and immediately had a boner, which hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. He’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake, yet the sight of you turns him on far more than anything ever has.
You’re just… perfect. Too hot, your body perfectly sculpted by the hours you spend at the gym every week. Jungkook dreams of dragging his hands, his tongue, on every inch of your body. Of caressing your hard-earned muscles, of gripping the meat of your ass…
Of grinding into you and hearing the little breathy moans he’s sure that you make in the thralls of passion.
Fuck.
If he’s honest, he would have fucked you that first time. Would have approached you and charmed you, seduced you until he’d have you writhing under his body. But one look – one damn look – at your keychain, and he knew you were off limits.
The bright pink Kooky plushie hanging from the keychain was a firm reminder that he cannot approach you, ever. Indeed, he doesn’t mix pleasure with work, which is starting to prove increasingly hard as he gets more famous, and as his fans grow way too numerous.
As his fans, as you pretend that you don’t recognize him when you go to the gym, even though he catches you looking at him all the time. Yet he can’t approach you, won’t approach you, ever. But nothing stops him from exploring his dirty little fantasies, whenever he wraps his hand around his cock…
Jungkook grunts, and he decides to take manners into his own hands, literally. He wishes it’d be your hand, gripping his cock once he’s pushed his shorts and underwear down. Wishes you’d hold him tight as you’d jerk him off slowly, eyes never leaving his.
He imagines you taking him in your mouth. Your plump lips, wrapping around the tip of his cock, sucking once as he’d fist your hair, restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth. Or maybe you’d give him the go to fuck your mouth, to unleash himself on you…
Jungkook moans, and he jerks himself off, slowly. Eyes closed as he imagines everything he wants you to do to him, everything he wants to do to you. His hand is not nearly enough to pleasure him, not when he’s been craving you the way that he has…
But it’ll make do.
Spitting in his other hand, Jungkook holds his dick up to rub the natural lube on the head of his cock. He winces – he’s already so damn sensitive… Probably because he’s sported a semi since he saw you at the gym.
Who gave you the right to go to the gym in those shorts, with only a sports bra to pair with them? You looked devilish, downright sinful, and you’ve dragged him to hell.
Once his dick is lubed up, glistening in the dim light from the hallway because he sure as hell didn’t have time to turn the lights on in his room, Jungkook strokes himself, slowly. Tattooed fingers firmly wrapped around his cock, just the way he likes it – right under the tip, hard enough to hurt just a little bit.
Hard enough to make him wish he was fucking your tight pussy instead. He imagines the drag of your walls on his dick, on his veins and on the ridge of his tip. He imagines your breasts bouncing up and down as you’d ride him, and then your face, contorted in pleasure, as he’d jackhammer into you.
He’s had noise complaints from his neighbours once, because of the loud singing he does once in a while, when he goes live for his fans. Right now, he wishes he’d get a noise complaint because they’d hear him fucking you good, fucking you until you’d crumble into ecstasy.
He picks up the pace on his dick, free hand grabbing at the white sheet of his bed. Would you be the type to moan unabashedly loud? To say his name when you come, when your walls flutter on his dick?
The thought makes his dick twitch in his hand, and Jungkook grunts again, curses underneath his breath. He doesn’t even know your name, but he sure as hell knows he’d come with your name a litany on his lips, a sinful melody he’d sing just for you to hear.
Would you drag your nails on his back, marking him so that the world knows you’re his? Would you suck on his neck, leave hickeys behind that he’d have to hide under foundation? Would you beg for him, or would you be a brat?
He wants you to be a brat. He wants to have to put you back into your place, to spank your ass and choke you until all you know is his name. He’d be feral with you – he’s feral just thinking about you. And maybe one day he’ll betray his number one rule, maybe one day he’ll fuck you into the night, hear you cry with pleasure as he’d pump his load inside of you…
His imagination is running wild, and his pace on his dick is relentless, unforgiving. His bicep burns already, even though he’s barely started. Or maybe he’s just too lost in his fantasies, losing track of time. But he doesn’t care – he’d lose track of time fucking you, too.
“Fuck,” he moans, eyes closed tightly, eyebrows bunched together as if in pain. But he’s not hurting – he feels way too good, the pleasure running through his blood a symphony every cell inside of him is addicted to.
You’re just too beautiful to him. He’d fucking crawl on his knees for you, or maybe he’d make you crawl. He’d force you to crawl, to beg for him, to…
Jungkook grunts loudly, his orgasm hitting so hard it feels like a trainwreck. He doesn’t slow down his pace on his dick right away, letting his cum spurt out and drip on his fingers, on the back of his hand. He doesn’t even care if he makes a mess – he’s lost to his pleasure, and he doesn’t want to come back to sanity. He wants to stay insane, and so he drags his orgasm out, milks it out of himself.
And he comes a lot, painting his whole fucking hand white. He’d think it to be disgusting, but when he looks down at his hand, fuzzy from his blissed-out pupils, he sees that he’s covered his tattoos with cum. His army tattoo – the closest he’ll get to come on you. He curses at the sight, hates that it’s turning him on again and that his dick twitches, begging for more. But all he does is watch the cum – it covers the three first letters, but it’s slowly dripping towards the y, and soon the whole tattoo will be covered, like he fucking wishes your pussy would be covered with his cum, dripping with it. He’d finger you with it.
Fucking hell.
Jungkook gives in to the unrelenting desire once he’s in the shower, trying to clean himself. A single thought of your thick ass and the stretched fabric of your biker shorts sends him back to square one, and he jerks himself off again, fast and hard, his free hand leaning on the wall. He’s quick to shift and put his forearm against the wall instead, hiding his face in his arm. And then he imagines fucking you in this shower, taking you from behind as your ass cheeks shake from his ministrations. He imagines you trying to find purchase on the wall, your hands slipping until he pulls you back into his chest. He’d hold you tight, wrap a hand around your neck, and he’d find your clit with his other hand.
He’d make you come so fucking hard. All night long. He doesn’t think he’d let you even fucking walk out of his apartment. He’d fuck you seven days a week, wouldn’t even leave his bed.
This time, his release hits differently, not as strong. It still fills his blood with ecstasy, and his head swims as he watches his cum go down the drain. His hand, his tattoos, are mostly clean this time around, and he imagines them covered in your cum instead. In your sleek juices as he��d finger you, making you squirt everywhere…
He curses loudly, turning the shower to cold, immediately wincing as the water hits his back. But it’s the only way he thinks he’ll manage to chase his arousal away. Hell, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his fucking evening masturbating. Though it’d be worth it, and he’s fully aware that he’d be able to. He’d just need to think of you, and he’d be ready to go again.
But when he steps out of the shower, he decides otherwise. He decides to go live – are you watching him, from wherever it is that you live in this city? Do you know that you make him insane, so, so insane that he just came twice to the thought of you?
He smirks, watching the comments coming in even though he hasn’t said anything yet. They fly too fast for him to be able to read anything, but he knows.
He knows that you’re there, on the other side of the screen, watching him as he watches you. Where else would you be?
And he knows damn well that next time he’ll see you, he’ll talk to you. Fuck the rules, fuck the fact that you’re his fan. He needs to fuck you, to know what your pussy taste like and how you sound when you come.
So next time he sees you, instead of jerking himself off alone, Jungkook knows he’ll ask you to give a helping hand.
Next
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Welcome to the land of sinning lmao hope you enjoyed this short ride! Let me know what you thought - it always motivates me to write more stuff like this ;)
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
3K notes · View notes
trivia-yandere · 5 months
Note
Hi!!!! Okay, first of all, I'm in love with your writing!!!!!! 💕💕💕💕And I was wondering (I've never done a story request so if it is horrible, please just ignore it 😅) but I was wondering if you could write a story of maybe yandereboyfriend/friend jungkook kinda forces older (not heaps but like 2-5 years older but shes just shy and confused when it comws to sex and intimacy) reader to loose her virginity to him and she likes it at the end?? If this is super uncomfortable, please don't even think about it 😅😶‍🌫️👉👈 or if you wanna do something completely different, I'd love your writing anyways!!!! 💕💕💕💕💕
hello! yes I can :) thank you for sending a request and being so patient! i feel like this yandere is more light than the usual lol
best friends!
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jungkook doesn't like the idea of you wanting to loose your virginity to anyone that wasn't him. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @minshookie29 idol version
word count: 6.100
warning: naive/shy reader, mentions of watching porn, childhood friends jungkook + reader, smut scenes, coercion, masturbation, manipulation, light yandere tedancies, jealous jungkook, dub-con moments, dry humping, kissing, nipple sucking, oral sex, loss of virginity, rough sex, dacryphilia, fingering, unprotected sex, spitting,
“You’ll never be able to seduce a man, Noona.” Jungkook laughs boisterously, causing your face to heat up. “You’re just too shy.”
Jungkook’s eyes watch as your arms cross over your chest, any self-confidence you had slowly falling. He hums, turning over on his bed to face you. He then places a hand on your thigh. “Noona…”
“Stop calling me that, Jungkook.” you murmur. He knows that you prefer to be called by your name, but he’d often ignore you because of how much he enjoys teasing you, even after years of friendship. 
“You’re upset with me.” says Jungkook.
“I’ve stopped calling you Kookie like you asked.”
Jungkook snorts. “That’s because the nickname doesn’t fit me anymore. I’m a man.” his hand squeezes your thigh. “Besides, I said stop calling me that in public. You and I are alone now.”
You and Jungkook have been friends since childhood, your father and his being great friends. The age difference never bothered you as much, and you’d often recall calling Jungkook your baby brother during his primary and middle school days - you having been homeschooled. It was when Jungkook grew in size and age and reached High School did he demand you stop calling him that but never gave a reason as to why.
Even now, as Jungkook and you are adults, the friendship remains. You went to him for whatever you thought you needed and he was there. Moving away from your father had been a big step and finding a job to support yourself was even bigger, but you were never truly alone because you had Jungkook - you and he living together.
Jungkook was the opposite of you. While your job consisted of you being home, he wasn’t. He made friends easily while you remained with a close knit circle. He was more social when needed and you often closed up around people you didn’t know. Most of your friends were Jungkook’s friends that he considered brothers - you recall asking him why he considered them family and not you. Jungkook didn’t give you any reason, stating that you’d never be a sister in his eyes, no matter if he knew you longer or not.
Now you and Jungkook lay in his bed, an action that he insisted on every so often, and watched tv. He’d often hold you, his breath tickling your ear with how close he was. A certain thought now laid on your mind and when you brought it up to Jungkook, his initial thought was to laugh at you. 
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N.” Jungkook sighs. He pushes himself closer to you, the hand on your thigh firmly keeping you in place. “It’s just…you don’t go out much. You’ve been homeschooled your entire life and you don’t really have friends besides the ones I have.”
Jungkook continues. “You literally cried the first time I showed you porn.” he tries his hardest not to laugh at the memory of you and he, both in High School. You had come over to his home while his parents were working. Jungkook had asked you about it randomly, and when you insisted that you never watched something as normal as porn, he insisted that you and he watch together. 
You’re flushed with heat at the embarrassing memory. “You…” you take a deep breath so your voice wouldn’t crack. “You told me it was just sex.”
“Is it not?” Jungkook knits his brows. 
“They were crying!”
“In pleasure.” says Jungkook. “I should have started you off easy and not gone into bondage.” low, he begins to laugh. It’s a memory that he’s fond of. “But I don’t regret showing you either. It was the first time you came!”
A memory you wished Jungkook would forget - and stop bringing up. That same night he insisted on teaching you about masturbation, telling you that it was normal. You’ve never done so before, feeling weird about it all together, but Jungkook wouldn’t allow you to leave until you at least gave it a try. 
“You even cried in pleasure.” 
Jungkook closes his eyes, the scene flashing in his mind. How innocent you appeared, completely confused on what in the world you were doing. It was then did Jungkook tell you that he’d talk you through it. It took a half an hour of convincing, of course. Getting you out of your pants, then your underwear. 
“Open your legs, Y/N.” Jungkook had said, grabbing your wrist. “Put your fingers right…there.” he places them onto your clit and you flinch at the feeling. “Then rub…” he murmured, his hand coaching you to rub until you got the hang of it.
Jungkook will never forget the sight and how hard he was at just watching you. Your breathing hitching, the low moans and the calls of his name. It’s a memory he cherishes with you - his best friend - and one of the main reasons as to why he’d never call you his sister; he had to dead that immediately afterwards. 
“Who are you trying to seduce anyways?” Jungkook changes the subject and goes back to the original topic. “You found yourself a boyfriend?”
“No.” you quip. “I-I just want to have sex.”
Jungkook raises a brow. “Why?”
“You have sex all the time.” you retort. You didn’t like Jungkook’s question, nor the look in his eyes. 
“I’m also not a virgin.” Jungkook fires back. “You can’t just have sex with anyone, Y/N. Don’t you think it has to be special?”
“Your first time wasn’t with anyone special.” you murmur. “Do you even talk to her anymore?”
Jungkook snickers. “Don’t remember her name.” he shrugs. “But you and I are different. Sex is different for women.” Jungkook says matter-of-factly. “You women create bonds with guys you give your body to. You can’t have that bond with just anyone.”
It was a conversation Jungkook and you had time and time again. As you got older, you were tired of being a virgin - and dating was never an option. Not because you couldn’t find a boyfriend - you could. You had men come up to you asking for your number and if you’d be interested in going on dates. 
The problem was Jungkook. He lingered around you often, and you never minded. He was your best friend and each man that tried were always shot down by him, not you. “He’s ugly.” Jungkook said about one man. “He looks like he doesn’t even shower, Y/N. Why he thinks he can speak to you is beyond me.” was said about another. “Men only want one thing. They can tell that you’ve never been touched.”
“What about Hoseok?”
Jungkook is quiet for a moment, your question lingering in his mind.
Hoseok?
Hoseok.
Jung Hoseok as his friend - the man he calls his brother?
There’s a dark look in Jungkook’s eyes as he thinks about your question. 
“Do you like him?”
“I love Hoseok.” you say calmly. “Like I love you.”
Jungkook doesn’t realize that his nails are digging into your skin until he hears you yelp. There was no way in Hell you love Hoseok the same as you loved him; the thought makes him want to gag.
“Why Hoseok?”
You aren’t sure how to respond. “I’ve known him for years.” was all you can think of. You and he were around the same age and he was nice, always smiling widely at you whenever he came around. “Maybe Namjoon?”
Jungkook swallows.
“You look at my friends often?”
There’s a change in Jungkook’s tone that has you cowering.
“I-I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Do you want to fuck my friends?” 
You’re taken aback by the harshness in Jungkook’s tone. 
“I…I don’t know anyone else but your friends.”
Jungkook snickers. He wasn’t going to allow you and Hoseok - or Namjoon, hell, anyone - to do anything. Hoseok is a man such as he is and the thought of his taking something precious from you was driving him wild. Wild because he knows that if you asked Hoseok, he would.
“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Hoseok has a girlfriend.”
A lie, but you’d never know that.
“Oh.” you appeared bummed. “Nam-”
“No.”
You swallow. “Jimin…?”
“Do you fantasize about them?”
You’ve know his friends as long as he has, and now he’s wondering when you had the thought of fucking them in your mind. 
“I just want to have sex.” you sigh in defeat, not wanting to cause a fight with Jungkook.
“Why wouldn’t you ask me?”
Jungkook doesn’t care how unreasonably spoiled he may sound. You were his best friend, after all. He kept creeps away from you who wanted nothing but to wet their cocks. You were safe with him in the home you and he shared - he’d be damned if he’d allow a man to come in here and fuck you.
You’re silent, and Jungkook continues. 
“You don’t love me.”
Your eyes widen when you feel Jungkook remove himself from you.
“I do.” you quip. “I-I just…I don’t have anyone else. I’m tired of not knowing what it feels like.” watching television with sexual scenes had you wondering if sex was truly as good as they made it seem. You recall hearing from Taehyung, another friend of Jungkook, that porn is often fake and not everything you see was real - but how could it not be when their eyes are rolling and they’re screaming with such passion?
“If you loved me, Y/N, you’d ask me.”
Your heart sinks when Jungkook lifts from his lying position. You hated arguing with him. He was someone you loved and trusted with your life - him being upset with you had your anxiety spiking.
“I thought you had someone you were seeing.” you admit. You recall seeing her a few times in the home. She never spoke, but then again neither did you. She would stroll past you to enter Jungkook’s bedroom and only ever gave you a small grin. 
“Oh her.” Jungkook brushes past the statement. “I am. Somewhat.” he shrugs his shoulders. Her contemplated asking her out - she was decent looking and a good fuck. But he didn’t love her nor respect her enough to make her his girlfriend. He was just bored at the moment. “Why does that matter?”
The same way it matters that Hoseok had a girlfriend, you think. You want to say it, but you didn’t want to upset Jungkook anymore than he already was. “I don’t want to come between that.”
Jungkook wants to laugh. “I don’t love her. I love you.” Jungkook says, a tone in his voice that indicates that it should be obvious. “You are my best friend. You should be able to come to me when you need me. Not anyone else.”
You lift yourself up from the bed, as well, and you slowly nod your head. “Sorry.” you murmur.
Jungkook turns to face you, a full smile on his lips. “It’s okay. I’ll forgive you, Y/N.” Jungkook holds his hand out for you to grab. 
You do, and Jungkook lightly tugs you closer. You and he are face to face now.
“Sex is more than just losing your virginity.” Jungkook’s thumb rubs your knuckles. “Sex should be pleasurable for both of us. Masturbation is a form of sex. You’ve done that already.”
You nod slowly, feeling hot. 
“Tell me, Y/N.” Jungkook says. “When you masturbate, what makes you cum?”
You lick your lips, again embarrassed. You swallow while trying to find the words to answer Jungkook.
“When you watch porn, what do you like?” Jungkook changes the question up, and understands how shy you were - even with him. 
Jungkook waits patiently for you to respond. “I-I…” you glance away from him. His eyes were always so piercing, like small black holes that can swallow anyone whole. 
“Don’t be shy. We’re best friends, right?” Jungkook pulls you closer to him. “If you loved me, Y/N, you’ll tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”
You nod. “Oral sex?” your words come out questioningly. 
Jungkook nods. “Okay. That’s a start. Oral sex is a big part of sex. It’s a form of foreplay. Get things started.”
“I don’t think you should do that.” you’re horrified with Jungkook’s face being so close to your sex. Yes, he’s seen it before - years ago - but that was then. He was a man now and he’s had sex with countless women.
“Why not?” Jungkook tilts his head. 
You’re silent, and Jungkook sighs. “You don’t trust me.”
“I do!” 
“Then why don’t you trust me to pleasure you? You’d rather go to my friends than trust me, Y/N. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I’m sorry.” you quip. “I just don’t think it…looks good?”
Jungkook blinks. 
You swallow.
“Of course it looks good.” Jungkook then laughs. “I’ve already seen it.”
“That was years ago.” you murmur, casting your eyes away. 
“True. But still. You trust and love me just like I trust and love you.” Jungkook places a hand on your cheek for you to look at him. “If we’re going to do this, you can’t hide your body from me. I’ll have to show you mine, too.”
You nod your head.
“We can start now.”
You inhale deeply. You don’t move, and when Jungkook notices he frowns. 
“Y/N. What did I say?”
“Don’t hide from you.” you murmur. 
“Exactly. Here. I’ll help you take your clothes off and you can do the same for me.”
Jungkook is slow when he puts his hands at the end of your shirt. He lifts it up and you stiffen, unsure of what to do next. The shirt comes over your head and Jungkook throws it aside. 
“Okay?” asks Jungkook, his eyes glancing down to the bra you’re wearing. It’s red and basic, but it hugs your breast perfectly. 
You only nod.
“Okay.” Jungkook then goes towards your leggings. They’re tight, but he manages to get his hands inside. He begins to tug and awkwardly, you lift yourself up so he can remove them. Your panties are black and cotton.
“Now you do the same to me.” Jungkook says. He understands you by now, knowing that you’d never take the first move. He grabs your wrists and walks you through it. “Go ahead.”
You’re trembling, you note, as you remove Jungkook’s shirt - an oversize black shirt. You often are reminded how much Jungkook has grown over the years, going from a boy to a man. He worked out often and was athletic. He had many tattoos that litter his skin - you had gone with him for a few of them and pondered how he could sit so calmly. 
“I’ll get up to make it easier.” Jungkook lifts from his bed and waits for you to continue. You’re as slow as before, hands trembling more than before. You tug at the sweats he wore, watching as they fall to the ground. You try to hide the fact that you gawk at the bulge in his briefs, swallowing at the sight. 
“Y/N.”
You blink up to look at Jungkook.
“You trust me, right?”
You nod your head.
“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a grin. “Come here.”
Jungkook leans down, his hand grasping your chin. He no longer hesitates or holds back, placing his lips upon yours.
You’re shocked, completely stiff, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. You’ll give into him eventually - it may take a few rounds, but you will.
You’re pushed backwards, back hitting the mattress. Jungkook hovers above you, his hands placing themselves onto your shoulders to keep you in place. 
You gasp for air when Jungkook removes his lips from yours, but then they’re trailing down your jawline to your neck. You’re breathing heavily, unsure what to do.
“You can touch me.” says Jungkook, as if reading your mind. “Don’t just lay there.”
Jungkook continues to kiss at your neck, his left hand leaving your shoulder and grabs your hand. He places it upon his chest for you to take the lead. His hand then goes to your waist to pull you closer to him. 
Your heart thumps that this is happening now - you and Jungkook. Goosebumps litter your skin, the hair standing straight up. But you do as you’re told, hand grabbing Jungkook’s bicep and squeezing it. 
Jungkook forces your legs apart, wrapping them around his waist. You yelp when you feel him, his bulge grinding directly against you. There’s a deep groan from Jungkook that you hear coming from your neck. 
“You have to engage.” Jungkook lifts slightly to look at your face. “Kiss me like I’m kissing you.”
You’re left stunned when Jungkook flips the both of you, his own back hitting the mattress and now you’re on top of him. He places his hands on your hips, a smirk on his lips. “It’ll be easier for you this way. I’ll let you take the lead.”
There’s a tension - one sided - when you lean down to his own neck.
“You’re still shy. It’s just me.” Jungkook sighs.
 It was easier for him to say. He wasn’t the virgin - or the closed off one that has been homeschooled. The only friend she kept was Jungkook, and his friends, but mainly Jungkook. There was no one she could go to that was the same sex that she could vent to about her frustrations. 
“Just let loose, Y/N. We’re friends. There’s nothing you can do that’ll make me view you differently.”
You try your best, even closing your eyes in hopes that’d be better. Your lips place themselves at the nape of Jungkook’s neck, and ever so gently did you kiss him. You allowed your hands to rub softly on his bare shoulders, kissing down his neck until you got to his collarbone.
Jungkook hums to himself, his cock twitching to be let loose from his underwear. 
You were adjusting - only a bit - but you’d soon be fully accepting. Jungkook allows his hands to dip from your waist and he grabs your ass fully in his grasp.
You swallow, hiding back the surprised gasp. You don’t want Jungkook to think you don’t trust him - because you do. You don’t want to appear utterly shy and closed off. You were older than Jungkook and he had to be the one to show you what life was like, as sad as it was.
“Okay. Now kiss me.” 
You nod your head. You want to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, but he doesn’t falter. “You’ll have to look at me eventually, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs. 
“I know.” you murmur back, and now meet his eyes. Jungkook smiles when you do, and his head lifts slightly.
Your head dips down to capture his lips in yours once more. There’s a fire running through you this time at the feeling - no longer hesitant or awkward to kiss him. It felt…normal; as if this is something the two of you always did. 
Jungkook’s teeth catch your bottom lip and he lightly tugs. “Let loose.” he whispers, and then dives into your mouth again. This time, his tongue pushes past your teeth and meets your own, it’s warm and slimy, but it causes you to moan.
Jungkook’s hands grip your ass, keeping you firmly against his erection. He rubs up your sides for a moment, then on your back. His hands are now on your bra and he appears to be swift in unhooking it.
“Kookie…” you murmur against his lips.
“It’s okay.” Jungkook responds. “You trust me, remember?”
You nod, but trust doesn’t help with your self–consciousness. 
Jungkook tugs at your bra until it’s fully off of you. He disgards it, bare hands now taking your breast entirely. He doesn't care how heavy he’s breathing, or how rough his hands squeeze your breast.
“My pretty girl.” Jungkook praises.
 It’s weird hearing it - for you at least.
 Jungkook rarely compliments you - not because he doesn’t think you are, but because he never really has a reason to. He sees you the same everyday - his best friend who he has breakfast, occasionally lunch and dinner with. You’re the same Y/N that he shares movie nights with where the two of you cuddle and laugh at whatever was on the screen. 
Now, however, Jungkook has to compliment you. He has to let you know how beautiful you are now - a woman. You grew into your womanly curves over the years, hiding it behind loose clothing, but never truly hiding it. You never hid from him; occasionally wearing shorts that showed your legs and the roundness of your ass, or tank-tops that made your breast appear more plump.
You yelp when Jungkook pinches your nipple. He chuckles at your reaction. “So responsive.” he says, more to himself than to you. 
“W-What-”
Jungkook’s tongue licks on your nipple, shuddering at feeling. He couldn’t help but to bring it entirely into his mouth, tongue twirling and suckling on it while his free hand pinches the other. There’s a euphoric feeling engulfing him right now. Yes, he did think about you sexually at times - he was a man and he couldn’t help it. But this was far better than any feeling, any thought or dream he’s ever had. 
“Does it feel good?” Jungkook manages to say, popping your nipple from his mouth to just engulf the other one.
“Yes.”
You don’t intend to sound so soft and meek, moaning against Jungkook. But you couldn’t hide it any longer. You can feel the wetness between your legs, arousal pooling out - and Jungkook’s grinding didn’t make it any better.
“You can talk to me, Y/N. You can tell me how  much you like it. How I make you feel.” 
Jungkook kisses both of your nipples softly. 
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me how you feel.” Jungkook repeats. “Here,” his right hand drops your breast and without warning, he slaps your ass. The sound echoes, as does you shriek. “I love the way your ass feels.” he then squeezes it in the palm of his hands. “I love the sweet moans coming from those pretty lips of yours.” he continues. 
You’re hot, Jungkook’s words cause a new sensation to run through you - nerves running through your body and meeting exactly between your legs. 
“It feels good when you touch me.” you say, admitting even if you want nothing more than to hide. 
“Yeah?” Jungkook lightly laughs. He squeezes your ass again. “What else?”
You huff, this time now hiding your face. Your head is between his shoulder and neck.
“It’s okay, pretty girl. Just tell me.” Jungkook encourages. “You trust me like I trust you.”
You sigh. Jungkook was going to be the death of you - you were going to die with embarrassment.
“I like the way you look.” 
Jungkook, again, is swift with his movement. He’s once more on top of you. He’s now forcing you to look at him - as if you weren’t embarrassed enough.
You go to cover yourself, but that wasn’t something Jungkook was going to allow. 
“Go on, Y/N.” Jungkook places a quick peck on your lips before he kisses down your neck to your collarbone. 
Your breath is shaky - but it was all Jungkook. His hands rub along your sides as his lips send kisses between your breasts, going lower and lower. “You make me feel…different.”
Jungkook’s lips are now on your stomach. “What’s different?”
“Wet…?”
Jungkook groans. His fingers are hooked between your panties and he wants nothing more than to remove them and dive in, but he’d remain calm for now.
“Look at me, Y/N.”
You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you’re unsure what Jungkook had in store for you. 
You do, however, and Jungkook is now directly between your legs. Your thighs quiver at the sight. 
“What do you want me to do?” Jungkook asks, and before you can answer, he places a single kiss upon your clothed clit.
Your throat tightens.
Jungkook wasn’t going to stop. He wanted to hear you speak - hear your thoughts, whatever moans you had in you. He didn’t want you to be shy - not with him. He wasn’t a stranger and who else should be the one to take your virginity than him?
Not Hoseok.
Not Namjoon.
Not Jimin - none of his friends.
Just Jungkook.
Dare he say he was entitled to it - you were his best friend. He was there for whatever you needed him to be; and this was one thing you didn’t come to him for (not at first). You wanted his assistance in finding you someone. The thought still upsets him.
“Kookie.” you sigh, hands crashing to your face. 
“So shy.” Jungkook tsks. His hands grip your waist and he drags you to the edge of the bed, him falling to his knees before you. “I’ll take the lead.”
You feel your panties being tugged off. You’re unsure of what to do or say - you knew you had to keep breathing or you’d pass out. The coolness of the air hits you and now you fully accept that you’re naked for Jungkook, completely bare before his eyes to see.
You’re so wet, Jungkook notes, arousal coating your lips and thighs. The thought of how excited you’ve been and nothing has happened yet makes him groan, anticipating what's to come.
Your throat releases a gasp and instantly, your legs clench shut, caging Jungkook in.
“S-Sorry, i-”
“It’s okay, Y/N. Relax.” Jungkook laughs, a gleeful tone in his voice. He had done nothing but flick your clit with his tongue. “Watch me, okay?”
You nod your head.
Jungkook hooks his hands right on your thighs, holding them in a firm grip so you wouldn’t be easily reactive - not without him stopping you. He dips his head back between your legs, tongue dipping between your folds.
Your eyes flutter, unable to truly focus on Jungkook like he wants you to. 
The sight alone is filthy - his head bobbing back and forth while his tongue assaults your clit. Occasionally, his eyes would dart up to capture your reaction, satisfied that you no longer hid your moans from him.
But the noises Jungkook made were another thing. He suckles on your clit, completely ravishing you as if it was the finest meal. He’s animalistic, not caring. He would draw his head back and spit, then continue his assault upon your clit.
“Kookie, I-I, you need to stop.” you try to get away from Jungkook, but he doesn’t allow it. If anything, Jungkook holds you even tighter. You were going to cum, of course, never truly experiencing a man going down on you. Your stomach churns and you feel like you are going to explode. “Kookie, please stop…”
Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at you. Your eyes are snapped shut and there’s a few droplets trailing down your cheeks. Jungkook grunts into your pussy. His fingernails dig into your naked flesh, his tongue laying flat against your clit. He continues to ravish you, not caring about your pleas - it was obvious you wanted more and was far too inexperienced to understand it.
Jungkook dives deeper and deeper, your cries only fueling him for more. Your arousal coats the bottom half of his face entirely. 
There was another attempt to remove yourself, buckling your hips, but Jungkook only shoves you back down upon the bed. Your toes are curling and you’re unable to see straight. There’s a tightness in your stomach that’s utterly unfamiliar to you.
“I’m not going to stop.”
Jungkook’s voice is deeper - deepest you’ve ever heard it.
“Not until you cum.”
 Jungkook’s right hand removes itself from holding your thigh, but that only means he’s holding the other tighter. 
Your back arches when you feel his fingers at your entrance.
“I can’t-”
“You will.” 
Jungkook doesn’t give a warning before entering his finger’s inside of you. You jump at the foreign feeling. You swallow back and shriek.
“So tight.” Jungkook murmurs to himself.
 Two fingers is all you can handle for now. That doesn’t mean Jungkook goes easy on you. He pumps inside of you vigorously, your walls clenching around his digits. Each time he hits a deeper spot that has you jerking.
“I know it feels good, Y/N. My pretty girl.”
You can’t speak, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He pumps and pumps until you’re cumming all over him, arousal splashing onto the hardwood floors of his bedroom. 
You’re a crying twitching mess, whimpering to yourself. Jungkook removes his fingers, satisfied with your appearance.
“I could fuck you right now. You’re so wet, Y/N.”
You exhale, eyes snapping open. “Kookie, I-”
“Don’t tell me you can’t take me.”
Jungkook pushes down his underwear and you freeze.
You’ve never seen Jungkook naked before, never going past witnessing him shirtless.
Now Jungkook is as nude as you, cock erect and hard. His tip is red and leaking with pre-cum, the shaft twitching in anticipation.
“I can’t.” you cry, now dwelling on the idea of having sex with the man.
Jungkook snickers. He grips his cock and slaps the tip against your wet clit. So wet, he thinks. Wet and warm, completely aroused because of him.
“You were willing to fuck my friends.”
Jungkook rubs the tip against your clit in slow circular motions. It makes a wet and sloppy sound as he does.
“They don’t love you, Y/N. Not like I do.”
You twitch at the feeling, overstimulated enough, even if it did feel good.
“Don’t you love me, Y/N?” Jungkook’s eyes don't leave your clit. He continues to tap and circle the tip of his cock against it, the sight beautiful.
“I do…”
“Then why do you keep denying me pleasure?”
Jungkook removes his hand from his cock to place it upon your hips, keeping you in place. He begins to thrust forward, sliding his entire cock against your clit.
“I allowed you to cum, haven’t i?” Jungkook grunts. “Milked my fingers like a little whore. But you won’t let me fuck you.”
Jungkook’s words cause you to gasp - that and the way his cock feels against your already stimulated clit. 
Jungkook’s open’s his mouth, a trail of saliva dripping right onto your clit, not because you needed it - you were literally dripping - but just because he wanted to. In his eyes, spitting upon you was an act of marking his territory and after he fucked you - and he was going to regardless - he would assure that only he would be the one fucking you afterwards; always and forever.
Jungkook continues to rub, his pace quickening. 
“Do you think another man would have given you the satisfaction?” Jungkook hisses. “They would’ve fucked you and left, Y/N. This is why I’m here. I love you, my pretty girl…” his tone softens. “...so wet and ready for me. You’ll let me have you, right, Y/N? You’ll let me be the one who takes your virginity?”
Slowly, you nod your head. Jungkook was someone you loved greatly. He was a man and understood how men think - you couldn’t be upset with him now. “Okay…” 
Jungkook smiles wide, full set of teeth shining at you. “My pretty girl. You’re always so good for me. Give me your hand.”
You do as Jungkook tells you to do, and he guides your hand to touch his cock. It twitches in your grip.
“Tighten your grip.” Jungkook demands and groans when you do. “Okay, baby…now center it at your pussy.”
You’re being so obedient for him, Jungkook thinks. He watches as you do what he tells you, the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole. “Good girl.” Jungkook mumbles.
“Don’t you need to wear a condom?”
Jungkook wants to laugh at your words. “Condoms are for people who have one night stands. Why would I wear a condom with you?” he asks, a tilt of his head. He had no intention of allowing you to fuck another man, so him not wearing a condom was alright.
You widen your eyes. “Pregnancy…?”
Again, Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, only stares into your wide eyes. He had no intention of impregnating you now, but if it happened, then it did. That only meant that it’s what the universe wanted.
“You know I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook says.
“I love you, too.” you respond.
Simpering, Jungkook nods. “I know.” he says, and then without warning, he enters you whole. There’s no warming upm Jungkook thinks, the faster he gets it over with, the faster pleasure will come for you.
When your mouth opens to shriek, Jungkook silences you with his lips. His hips snap inside of you, unable to stop. So tight, he thinks, fully milking his cock with your essence. It’s as though his cock fit perfectly inside of you; like a puzzle piece coming together to complete a set.
The pain is excruciating and you’re unable to pull away from Jungkook. His grip on you was intense, fingers bruising into your skin. 
The sound of skin slapping is loud in the room, echoing off the walls. 
“My pretty girl.” grumbles Jungkook when he releases your lips. “Thank you for trusting me, Y/N.”
The pain shoots throughout your body, but hearing those words from Jungkook was worth it to you. You blink away the tears so you can focus on his face.
“Soon the pain will go away, and you’ll love the way I fuck you.”
You nod. You trusted Jungkook.
It takes a while for the pleasure to come, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t. Jungkook hits your sweet spot, slamming you against his bed with each thrust. Your moans are loud for him, so sweet and melodic - he knew you had it in you to let loose.
“Feels good, pretty girl?” Jungkook questions, the question rhetorical. He knows by the way you clench around him that it does - that and your high pitched moans. 
“Feels…so…good…” you grunt, panting along with each powerful thrust.
“Good.”
Jungkook removes himself just so he can turn you around, chest firmly against his mattress. He enters you once more, hitting even deeper than before.
Your eyes snap shut and your arms shoot out, gripping the bed sheets for support. Whatever you once imagined sex would be like didn’t give it any justice. Sex with Jungkook was a pleasurable feeling you’d never forget - you’re unsure how you’d ever be able to go back to masturbating once this was over. 
Both of Jungkook’s hands place themselves on yours, entangling your hangers with his. His lips kiss your back, pounding inside of you with such passion. 
There it was again, the churning feeling in your stomach.
“I feel you, baby.” Jungkook pants. It’s as if you never want him to stop, creaming his cock like your life depended on it. “Go ahead and cum for me, pretty girl.”
You groan, shaking your head at how good you felt. 
“I love you, Kookie.” you murmur so low that it’s barely audible, but Jungkook hears it loud and clear.
 It causes Jungkook to grind into you deeper and deeper, feeling himself come undone at just words. You told him those three words many times before, but now it felt different. Intimate. This was something he’s never heard during sex - and if there was a chance he did, he wouldn’t care. 
You were who Jungkook loved; his best friend since childhood.
You were the one who Jungkook wanted to hear the words from.
Jungkook’s cumming, his heaving breaths ticking the skin of your back. He doesn't bother to pull out of you, instead he milks your walls completely with his seed, shuddering with complete bliss.
Jungkook won’t regret it - cumming inside of you felt right. It wasn’t as if anyone else would be.
“My pretty girl.” Jungkook coos, pulling out of you to tuck you further into his bed. He lays beside you, embracing you from behind. “You did so good for me.”
Your heart swells at the compliment, your eyes heavy with slumber.
Jungkook holds you tight as you drift to sleep, satisfied that you were here with him. 
Not Hoseok or Namjoon or anyone else -  but him.
 After all, he was the only one who truly loved you for who you are and didn’t see you as just a hole to fill - he wasn’t like those other men out in the world. No, Jungkook was better than any man you could ever think about being with. He proceeds to place a kiss upon your temple, satisfied that you were his and his alone.
idol version
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explicit-tae · 6 months
Text
Ungodly Hour (1)
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That time you - a broke college student - were willing to do just about anything for a hulu account after your brother kicks you off of his - (and Jungkook would do anything to have you).
Series Masterlist
Word count: 1.687
Warning: idk yall, i was bored, smut, college au, jungkook is thirsty, reader is somewhat slutty but with good reasons, dirty talking, swallowing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, riding, cumming,
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Your mouth wrapped around the tip of Jungkook’s cock, twirling the head in your mouth. You only slightly (maybe more than you want to admit) the way the salty pre-cum drips into your mouth as you suck. Even better were his moans - so soft and velvety; melodic. 
if anyone was to blame it had to be your brother - he was the nuisance in your life. It was as if he intended on making your life a complete mess.
You were a good person, daughter and sister. You did what you had to do - attend classes everyday. You went to work and then home without a care. You worked at a grocery store part time and made enough to pay your half of the rent. Sure, with the price of groceries now you couldn’t be bothered to buy any. But that’s where your parents came in. You craved independence from them but only for privacy. You made sure you were there every night for dinner and sometimes if you had time, breakfast in the mornings. 
Your brother was just upset that you accidentally bought an add-on on his hulu account - but how else were you supposed to watch what you wanted if he was too cheap to pay for anything further? It was bad enough you had to sit through 2 minute ads - it was the least he could do.
This is how you now found yourself sucking Jungkook off - the same man you had been dodging ever since the pair of you met. He gave off fuck boy vibes and the last thing you needed was that in your life - until you actually did need Jungkook. The irony.
Jungkook watches with hooded eyes at the beautiful sight of you. You had now grasped the length of his cock and began to pump him, focusing more on the tip of his head. He was glad the two of you were alone - seeing as you didn’t even have the decency to take him to your room and insisted on doing this on the couch. But Jungkook wasn’t a picky person - he prayed for times such as this. You were the play hard to get type and one thing he enjoyed was the chase. 
Jungkook places a hand on the back of your head and thrusts lighty into your mouth, groaning as he does so. You allowed it. You laid your tongue flat, eyes flickering up to watch his expression. Satisfaction bubbled deep inside of you at the sight of his lust-filled expression. Dark hooded eyes, gasping lips.
“I waited, fuck…so long for this.” Jungkook groans, pumping inside of your mouth a little faster. His thumb caresses your cheek. “I told you that I’d have you one day, didn’t I?” he says smugly. 
You groan a response, throat vibrating against his cock. That bastard, you thought. Jungkook did - he told you that one day your “play hard to get” act would crumble and when it did, he’d be there. But this couldn’t count - right? You were doing this for the greater good, after all. You had shows to watch and Jungkook just so happened to be the one that had a premium account.
You feel the tip of Jungkook’s cock tickling the back of your throat, testing to see how far you’d let him go. There’s a trail of saliva dripping from the corner of your lips and it drips slowly down your chin. Your mouth was heavy - wet and warm and inviting. You were determined to make him cum and he was determined to do just that. 
Jungkook’s hand grips your hair - you moan at the sensation. He pumps just a little faster, your slurps and gagging hitting his ears and he moans at just how filthy you were for him. 
“I’m about to cum.” Jungkook groans. His free hand wipes away a lone tear that releases from your eye. “You okay?” he asks, slowing his thrusts.
Your response was to bring him deeper into your mouth, blinking up at him. You slap his thigh harshly and that was all the permission he needed to fuck your throat. He shudders, feeling his toes curl. It didn’t help that your teary eyes watched his every move - and Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even now while he took control, you remain just as stubborn; challenging him. “F-Fuck…” Jungkook grunts. “W-Where do I cum?”
Jungkook wants to slap himself, forgetting that you can’t exactly respond to him. But he’s unsure if cumming inside of your mouth would be too intimate - but then again, you could always spit it out and he would be fine with that. 
You gag, feeling your throat swell with the warm, salty substance. You inhale through your nose and moan. “L-Let me find-” Jungkook watches as you swallow and lick your lips - he feels his cheeks redden and his heart thump.
You wipe your eyes of the pathetic tears and hum. “Don’t get big headed.” you hiss.
Jungkook smirks and bats his eyelashes. “Never.” he says. “I already made you a profile on my hulu account.”
You watch as Jungkook takes out his phone to show you the account and like state, he did make you your own profile. You snort at the name - stargirl. “I’ll text you the information to get into it.”
You place your hands onto his thighs. Your eyes lower to his cock - it wasn’t completely erect, but it wasn’t softening, either. 
“I was told I would get peacock and hbo max.” you say to him. You didn’t want to tell him that you were wet and wanted to ride him, his head was already big enough. 
“I have hbo max as an add on with hulu.” Jungkook responds, eyes darkening at the thought of feeling you. 
“Hm. That’s too bad.” you tilt your head. “I wanted to ride you.”
“I can add disney.” Jungkook responds far too quickly, mentally cursing at how desperate he appeared.
Smirking, you nod your head. “Deal.”
Jungkook’s eyes are wide when you lift from your knees and kick off your shorts, panties flying with them. He’s erect once more at the sight of your slick trailing down your thighs. Your thighs trap him beneath you as you center yourself on him. “I’m not on any birth control.”
Jungkook gulps. His hands place themselves firmly on your hips. “I can pull out.” he nods. “Unless you want another streaming service as payment for me cumming inside of you.” he jokes - unless…
Jungkook smirks at you and you could only glare. You sit down on him completely and wipe the smirk from his lips. Your hands grip his shoulders as you begin to pound on him. It doesn’t take time for the entire sitting room is filled with your moans mixed with Jungkooks as well as skin slapping.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Jungkook murmurs, inching closer to capture your lips with his own. You never said anything against kissing is his defense.
You deepen the kiss, grinding against him. “Says the man who hasn’t stopped moaning since we started.”
Jungkook chuckles and does just that. His hands trail from your hips, to your thighs and upwards towards your breast. He grips both of your clothed breasts into his palms. “Pussy feels so good, I can’t help myself.”
You swallow your own moan back. You can’t let him know his words turn you on - he would never let you live it down. It’s bad enough you were fucking him for streaming services.
You shifted yourself, your feet firmly against the couch. You looked into his eyes as you began to bounce on him once more, satisfied that the man below you was a moaning mess - and broke eye contact first. His eyes begin to roll at the new found pleasure.
You decided that you wouldn’t hide your own pleasure anymore. Jungkook was big and this position only meant that his cock was hitting the right spot each time. 
“I know it feels good, baby.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality - and so does his thumb upon your clit. His thumb rubs hastily on it, enjoying the way your pussy tightens around his cock.
“It does.” Maybe you were growing weak - but only because it did feel good. That, and the way Jungkook’s voice grows deeper and more sultry as he speaks is an added turn on. 
“What happened to the playing hard to get girl I know?” Jungkook’s now thrusting upwards inside of you to meet you halfway.
You clench around him. “Fuck you.” you murmur.
“I intend to.” Jungkook manages to laugh, his thumb leaving your clit to hook beneath your thighs. He continues where you left off, stamina unmatched. He pounds into you with such need - as if this was what he had been waiting for for who knows how long.
Your arms wrap around his neck and allow him the control - just this once. Jungkook’s reveling in your submission, murmuring dirty words in your ears as he fucks you. You were so wet - slick gripping out of you and onto his thighs - that he knew neither of you would last long.
You bite your lip when you feel Jungkook’s hands on your ass. He squeezes it with such need, moaning beautifully in your ears as his thrusts turn sloppy. “Where do I cum?” he asks suddenly.
“Anywhere.” was your response.
Jungkook took your lack of direction as a sign. His fingers lean down from your ass to find your clit once more. He toys with it as he thrusts, hellbent on making sure you cum right along with him. He wasn’t going to last - not with the way you were squeezing his cock right now.
“S-Shit!” you hiss, feeling yourself come undone right as Jungkook pulls out of you, cum leaking on your ass.
Jungkook leans against the couch and pants. There was no way he was going to leave you alone after this - but that’s okay because he knows you’ll close up once more and play that game you’ve been playing. Jungkook loved the chase and deep down, so do you.
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rerefundslocals · 10 months
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Slow motion [jjk]
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Summary: you only wish to love jungkook for as long as the world allows you to.
>>pairing: idol!jungkook x fem!reader
>>trope: exes to lovers
>>genre: angst,smut,fluff.
>>word count: I'll add later
>>warnings/tags: feelings discussed, arguments, shyreader, Dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, backshots, dirty talk,petnames, spit kink, aftercare <3(lmk if I missed anything)
a/n- a recommended song is slow motion by Don toliver ft. Wizkid. Show love through likes, reblogs,comments and asks. Keeps authors very motivated<3 enjoy!! + this is not proofread and a repost.
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"Did anyone see you?" You sigh out as you walk towards the door of your apartment.
Jungkook, by the door undresses as he removes his Nike puffer jacket and ridding himself of his shoes as well ; left in his shirt and sweatpants, he only walks closer to you, grabbing your hand as he leads you to your couch ignoring your question completely.
"I had a long day, skip the questions,___." He groans out as he lays back on your pink velvet sofa,pulling you on his lap.
You simultaneously lay your head on his chest carefully as you hear his heart softly beat in his chest. "I just wanted to know." You mumble.
"It's okay. Did you eat?" He asks, hands rubbing the small of your back as he makes his way to your ass, rubbing at the flesh, clothed by your flowy dress.
You only sigh as you trace the patterns on his tattooed arm, reeling in the silence and the comfort of your ex-boyfriends arms.
It wasn't always so sullen between you two. You always believed that you'd be more happy if you were able to love Jungkook freely without having to sign heaps of papers and worry about publicity.
But that was not the reality of this relationship. Though you did try to get through that phase, it only teared down your relationship. Having to book private dates and seeing each other atleast two times every month. Three if you were lucky.
It was bad enough that your relationship went public, and when it did, it was your worst nightmare having spent two years of your relationship with Jungkook private and signing nda's .
From the Twitter comments and Jungkook having to face the worst times during his lives. You had decided to end things with him after three years of bliss. He took it hard and so did you.
Days turned into Weeks, and weeks turned into months ; that's when Jungkook decided that despite being broken up, he will find every way to meet with you, and kiss you, touch you, tell you he loves you as if you two were still together.
That's what leads you here, on his warm lap, soaking in the little time you had left as the company would be livid if they knew Jungkook left work to go straight to you.
He wonders why you have yet to answer his question, but he doesn't let it bother him. You probably had a long day too.
"Baby, are you hungry yet?" He finally asks. Head leaning down to get a better view of your face.
Feeling wary and skeptical, you look up at him, finally responding to him. "I'm really trying to be nice...but Kook, you should be gone right now. I'm scared you'll get in trouble." You pick at your nails, head hanging low.
He immediately responds. And it is not in a nice tone. "You and this fucking worrying of yours. If I wanted to be gone I would be right now." He scoffs out. Ever so gently removing you off his lap, warm hands ridding themselves of your ass.
"If you want me gone. I'll do just that."
You're quick to scramble to your feet, fluffy socks meeting your wooden floor as you follow him to your door.
"Kook, wait- I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that..but I'm just scared okay? Please understand that." You softly say.
Jungkook turns to look at you, eyes showing the clear emotion of sadness. Your heart clenches at the sight of a sad Jungkook and you reach your hand into his, engulfing in the warmth of his bigger limb.
"You're the reason we never worked out. You know that?" He asks, his hand tightly engulfed in yours.
Your brows furrow as you frown at him, "w-what do you mean,Kook? I broke us up because it was best for you. I did it for you." He chuckles, and it's not jolly or happy.
"You did it for me? Are you fucking crazy? I put my foot in this relationship when everything was going haywire,___. I tried and tried to fight for this. I am sorry that you're too weak to render that in your brain. But I love you. I do love you and I wish you weren't so selfish all the time ; because you know deep down in your heart that you want this. You love me like I love you. So cut the shit and forget the company and the nda's, the fans too. Just focus on you and I. That's all I want."
"Its harder than that." You mumble shyly and Jungkook loses it completely.
"What's fucking hard?! What is huh?!" He growls, "Tell me,___!" He finishes, chest heaving with anger. Completely unfazed that you flinched at his voice raising higher.
It's a stare off now, as you and him stare intensly in each other's eyes.
It's then you decide, that maybe he is right and that you can trust him, hope that everything would be better..if you just shut the world out, that being the company, his fans and the contracts.
Your eyes soften as you walk closer into jungkooks personal space, your arms wrapping around his waist as you hug him, your hair being mushed by his chest.
Jungkook sighs at the sight, eyes looking down at you as he contemplates hugging you back. "Touch me, please." You plee.
"Will you shut me out when we're done hugging?" He chuckles playfully.
You chuckle along with him, chests vibrating against each other, "I won't. Because I love you and I want this to work no matter what, Kook."
"I love you so much." You whisper once more, as you lift your head, frail fingers going up to caress his cheek.
Now on your tippy toes, you lean up for a kiss that Jungkook responds too, as he latches both your lips in a loving kiss. Lips moving in sync, as his hands come to wrap around your waist, fingers fighting the urge to grab the flesh of your ass.
The kiss becomes more feverish than it was softer as you let out moans into Jungkooks mouth and he groans jn response when you tug at his hair, "mhm - fuck, baby." He let's out as he props off your mouth for a second.
You continue to make out by your door while you peel off Jungkooks clothes, from his shirt to his sweats, leaving him naked in front on you since he did not wear underwear, though you don't question it.
"Hold on, baby." His lips leave yours as he tries to remove your dress from off your body and over your head.
Left with your thong, you lean down to pull it off and kick it somewhere in the kitchen.
With so much frustration to let out, Jungkook wastes no time lifting you up as you curl your legs around his waist, leading you both to your bedroom.
It's everything jungkook has seen before. From the Polaroids of you with family and friends hanging on the wall and the pastel pink wallpaper on your walls.
"Get on the bed, your back facing me and arch your back." The tone is instructive more than it is demanding and it radiates pleasure onto you, making you unbelievably wet for him. So you do comply and do just as he says.
Foreplay has never been one for yours and Jungkooks sex life, As much as Jungkook loves getting his dick sucked and you loving the pleasure from getting eaten out, you both just love to feel each other and be binded as one with no time to waste.
He wants to feel you squeeze around him and he wants to fill you up so good. Maybe after that would he eat you out and same with sucking him off.
Now he lines up with your hole, slowly inserting thr tip of his hard cock, precum leaking.
You both audibly moan in sync when he fully enters, slow and teasing thrusts at first.
You whine pitifully as you shake your ass as to pry Jungkook to move faster."Jungkook please."
"I know,baby, I know." He teases with a sly smirk that you can't really see from behind.
He complies with you, moving faster as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his pre cum fill the room.
Along with your moans and jungkooks low but raspy moans that have you curling your toes, you become a leaking faucet, getting tighter around his cock.
"Mm- fuck! You're so tight, baby." Jungkook moans, "keep squeezing my cock, baby."
It's a sloppy mess now as your moans sound like cries now, high pitched, whiny much and loud. Very loud.
Your poor neighbors :(
You squeeze tighter around him when he slaps your ass quite a few times, groping at the flesh when he let's go. Jungkook quietly groans at the tight fit. "Wan' me to squeeze you just like that?" You coyly remind him.
"Hmh, just like that, baby." He replies, a breath of relief is what it sounds like.
You feel your high approaching when your stomach coils tighter and tighter and tears pool at your eyes, one leaking from your left eye and onto your cheek.
What a sight.
Jungkook pulls you with your hair and onto his chest, his thrusts sloppier at this new angle.
"So pretty." He presses a kiss onto your cheek. He forces your mouth open with his free hand that isn't gripping your right ass cheek, leaning forward to spit a glob of saliva into your mouth.
"You gonna be a good girl and swallow? Hmm?"
You only swallow in response, feeling the warm spit go down your throat. You like it, quite tasty to you, everything about him is tasty.
"Fuck- I-im cumming, Kook!" You exclaim, feeling your knees go weak.
"That's it, baby. Soak my dick."
And on cue, you cum undone on his cock, jungkook moaning along with you as he spills into your hole.
The sticky white substance, thick and messy in your tiny hole.
You fall limply onto the bed when Jungkook let's go of your hair, and he gets up to get a warm cloth to clean you up.
"You Okay, baby?" He questions when he's done wiping you clean and covering you up.
You lazily nod at him, smile playing on your lips. "You did not say you loved me back, earlier on."You playfully tease.
Jungkook chuckles in response, running his hands through his hair for the first time today.
"Wellll," He drags, "you didn't exactly give me that chance since you kissed me crazy."
"I'm giving you a chance now. And come lay with me!" You whine.
"Okayyy, fine woman! I love you so so much." He hops in the bed beside you, pulling you close to his chest immediately. Desperate to feel you on him. "That's what I like to hear." You kiss his chest and he kisses your head above you too.
"I love you,too."
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caelesjjk · 1 year
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Wicked As They Come | myg
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⟶ title: Wicked As They Come
⟶ pairing: vampire!yoongi x reporter! f reader
⟶ genres/aus: supernatural au, vampire au, fake dating au, ceo au, romance, smut
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ wc: 10.7k
⟶ warnings: Yoongi is a bit mean but 😏, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, threats, dirty talk, mentions of blood, biting, blood drinking, blood play, a cheesy staircase scene, a shower scene, smut in the forms of: oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms
⟶ summary: you’ve been undercover at one of Min Yoongi’s many hotels in the city for the past week. you’re there because of the rumors that have been spreading regarding his vampire employees feeding off of his human guests. what you don’t expect to happen is Min Yoongi discovering your true intentions in his hotel and offering you a very interesting ultimatum: pretend to date the vampire CEO to help appeal to his human guests, or quickly find out just what kind of monster he can really be.
⟶ authors note: I know you all must be so surprised to see me posting since it’s been literal months lol. This fic is part of the To Love A Monster collab that I’m hosting with a bunch of really amazing writers. Please check out their fics as well! I have to give some big shoutouts here: M @here2bbtstrash, thank you for betaing what was obviously a mess and assuring me that it wasn’t complete trash, I so appreciate your help. Also to sav @jeonjcngkook who read it before it was even done to also assure me I wasn’t writing junk. And then to jai @gimmethatagustd for making this amazing banner all those months ago when I thought I wouldn’t procrastinate and get this done sooner lol.
I hope you all enjoy this, it’s mostly porn lol.
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You have been sneaking around his hotel for a week trying to put any weight behind the rumors that were circulating.
Min Yoongi was a vampire and a very powerful one. He owns almost every luxury hotel within 500 miles of the city. He employs vampires and humans in his hotels and none of the humans you had been talking to seemed afraid to be here. So why are there rumors the vamps are feeding off humans in his hotels?
You have been unable to find any evidence of the unapproved blood drinking. There is, of course, plenty of approved blood drinking. Humans are paid handsomely to volunteer their blood to the vamps and Min Yoongi almost made a show of how much he paid them.
Your last night in the hotel is supposed to be spent at a masquerade party being held downstairs in the grand room, but ever curious you decided to take a small detour past the kitchens. 
The dress you are wearing was sent to your hotel room with a note that simply stated “can’t wait to finally meet you tonight when you're wearing this.”
At first, you thought it was possibly delivered to your room by mistake. But the dress was exactly your size and fit like it had been made for you. You didn’t have a no clue who would have sent it, but you weren’t the type to turn down expensive gifts.
While taking your last minute detour past the kitchens, you hear something around the corner that quickly catches your attention.
“I don’t want you to if it’s going to hurt, Jimin.” A female voice says in a hushed whisper.
“I would never hurt you, princess. It’s going to feel so good,” a man with silver hair and a ridiculously pretty smile says to the female as you slowly peek around the corner. One of his hands strokes her cheek while the other holds her body against his.
“Do you promise?” Her voice trembles slightly and you’re immediately afraid for her. 
“Of course.” He leans down to kiss her and she seems to melt into him.
There are two things you are absolutely sure about at this moment. 
This man named Jimin is a vampire.
This girl is human and being coerced into letting this vampire bite her even though she is obviously terrified.
You watch as the vampire hikes up the girl's skirt, hitching her leg over his hip. You hadn’t noticed that he had removed his cock from his pants until you saw him slip inside the girl in front of him. 
You can’t look away, but an even bigger part of you wants to see more. She moans his name and Jimin praises her for taking him so well.
Was this really what they had been talking about? Were they talking about fucking and not him drinking her blood?
But while you were distracted by the scene in front of you, watching tears roll down the girl's face when Jimin slammed her back to the wall, you hadn’t realized that someone else was watching you. A hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your waist and lifts you off the ground.
“You aren’t supposed to be down here,” a deep voice says against the shell of your ear. You try to scream to no avail, flailing your head around trying to hit them in the face, but they’re too quick.
You keep fighting against them, even as you feel a needle pierce the skin of your neck and a scream leave the mouth of that poor girl around the corner.
“Time to wake up.” You feel someone grip your face in their hand to keep your head up. Your mind feels like a fog has settled inside.
“You probably gave her too much, Namjoon,” a voice says.
“Impossible. I never miscalculate a dose.” 
“Would you two please shut the fuck up,” a deep grumbly voice says from a little further away. “Open your eyes, little monster.”
You force them to flutter open, trying to focus on what’s in front of you through your blurry vision. 
“Where…where am I?” You start to move your limbs; your legs move fine, but your arms are handcuffed behind the back of the chair you’re sitting in. “What the fuck?”
“We need to talk about why you’ve been snooping around my hotel for the past week. And I suggest you not lie to me or I’ll kill you now.” A man dressed in a very expensive suit comes around the front side of the desk he was sitting behind and leans against it.
“If you already know, what’s the point in me telling you anything?” Your vision clears more as you focus on his face: long black hair smoothed back off his forehead and eyes that could see through your soul.
“Humor me.” His voice is suddenly at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Is this how you treat all of your guests? Cuffing them to chairs and letting your employees drink their blood even though they’re terrified?” You glare at him as you speak. It didn’t take you long to realize that this man is Min Yoongi.
He laughs before placing his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning down until his face is level with yours.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, little monster.” His voice is low and his smirk is maddening.
“I’m calling the cops as soon as I get the fuck out of here. This is kidnapping.” You struggle against the cuffs to no avail. Yoongi leans down closer, his nose coming down to skim your throat and cause your body to freeze.
“I can smell it on you…the fear. Your heart is pumping too hard. It’s fucking divine.” His tongue ghosts along your skin and no matter how hard you try not to react, goosebumps appear after you shiver. “Does that turn you on, little monster? Knowing I could kill you…bleed you dry on my tongue?”
It does. God it fucking does. It’s so fucked up, but pain…pushing limits…a little bit of fear…you fucking love it.
“No.” You seethe through clenched teeth.
“Liar.” His words are hot against your ear before his inhuman speed takes him back to the other side of his desk in an instant.
“Bastard.” You cross your legs tightly and slump against the chair.
“You have a choice to make, Ms. ______.” Yoongi sits down in his oversized leather chair and leans back with his eyes on you. “I’m in need of a partner. A human one. Someone to make appearances with me and make it look convincing. I need the humans to book my hotels more often. You can either help me do that or I can kill you.”
“Gee, so glad you’ve given me so many options here,” you scoff.
“What will it be then?” His hand cards through his long hair but his attention stays on you.
You realize that this may give you an extra in for your article. You could have insider information about what’s going on in these hotels if you agree. Maybe this isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.
“Fine. I agree.” You know the smile on your face probably isn’t as convincing as you want it to be.
“Meet me back here tomorrow night to sign the contract.” Yoongi nods towards the vampires who have been lingering near the door and one of them comes forward to undo your cuffs.
“Perfect.”
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“What the hell? You’ve got an entire clause in this thing that says I can’t write any piece of journalism regarding what I see and hear at any time while or after the contract is up? That’s bullshit!” You toss the thick packet of paper back onto his desk.
“I’ll compensate you for any money your magazine would pay you for the article you were going to write about me.” Yoongi says, as if he’s bored to death as he scrolls his phone.
“How much compensation are we talking about here? Because the magazine I’m working for pays pretty decently for pieces like…” Your sentence is cut off by the sound of your phone dinging on the table. You pick it up to see Min Yoongi has deposited $20,000 into your bank account. You choke, almost throwing your phone when you see the number. “You can’t be serious.”
“Now that your compensation is dealt with, is there anything else in the terms you want to discuss?” Namjoon says, steam practically pouring out of his ears. He turns to his boss next. “Or is there any more money you would like to just throw around?” 
You glare at Yoongi, his eyes never leaving you as you reach onto the table and pick the packet of papers back up. He smiles, poking the tip of his tongue against one of his fangs.
Flipping through the rest of the contract, it occurs to you that one thing was never mentioned throughout that ridiculously long document.
“There’s nothing about sex in here.” You skim through a few pages again and Namjoon nearly chokes.
“Should there be?” Yoongi says with amusement in his voice.
“I just assumed…” 
“If you want me to fuck you, little monster, we don’t need a contract for it. Just say that’s what you want.” He leans over the desk, his elbows resting on it.
“Obviously I don’t.” You cross your legs and pretend to look through the contract more.
“Get out,” Yoongi says, black eyes still staring at you.
“Excuse me?” You’re about to go off before he cuts you off.
“Not you.” He turns his eyes to Namjoon who was apparently pretending there was something more interesting on his phone. “You. Get out of my office.”
“Asshole,” Namjoon mumbles as he shoves his chair back and, quicker than any human ever could, rushes out of the door and leaves it slamming behind him.
“What is your problem? Why did you tell him to leave?” 
“My problem is that you’re lying to me. So I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth. Do you want to be fucked?” He starts to loosen the tie around his neck while standing up slowly from his desk.
“Why do you assume that I want you to fuck me?” Your mouth feels dry as you grip the arms of your chair.
“Does your cunt usually get ridiculously wet when you don’t want to be fucked?” He stops in front of you, the silky black neck tie sliding between his long fingers.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“No? So if I got my fingers between your legs I wouldn’t find you dripping?”
“It wouldn’t be because of you.” You tighten your jaw and lift your nose slightly into the air in defiance. “Maybe I thought your lawyer was hot.” 
Yoongi has never looked more wicked than he does at this moment. It’s like any kind of mask he was wearing to hide the monster has slipped away, his eyes suddenly the color of blood and fangs elongated while he grips the arms of the chair you’re sitting in, crushing them in his hands. The suddenness of it all makes you yelp in surprise.
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to with that smart fucking mouth, little monster.” One of Yoongi’s hands lifts from the rubble of the chair arms so he can drag a finger up your chest. Even without his inhuman abilities, you know he can hear your heart.
You should be terrified. You are terrified. But you should be trying to get away. Fight him off of you. But you just want more. Want him to bend you over his desk and show you the monster he can truly be.
His wandering finger makes its way over your pulse thrumming in your neck, making him groan low and deep in his chest. But he doesn’t stop there; he keeps his torturously slow pace until the finger is resting on your chin just beneath your lips.
“Open,” he demands, the red of his eyes slowly retreating back to their normal dark color.
You decide not to argue this time, parting your lips just enough for him to slip his finger into the hot cavern of your mouth.
“Suck, little monster, like it’s my cock I know you’re dying to choke on.” He presses the long digit against your tongue, tilting his head to the side as he watches your lips wrap around his finger.
You suck gently at first, running your tongue along its length until you can taste the metal of the very expensive ring on his finger. You lift your eyes to meet his, desperate to see how it’s affecting him.
“You can do better, can’t you, beautiful?” His other hand cups your chin and tilts it up more before he pulls his finger from your mouth. “Well?”
You watch as he leans against his desk, spreading his legs slightly as he presses his palms to the top of the dark wood.
It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s suggesting, and then you’re sliding from the leather chair you’re sitting in down to your knees on the floor in front of him. You can tell he’s half hard already when you come face to face with his crotch.
“This doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds strained and unfamiliar. Yoongi smirks, a small laugh slipping out.
“Don’t worry, little monster. Out there you can be my well put together princess. But here, you’re my whore.” He growls the last part, one of his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he watches you undo his belt and zipper.
You hate how hard your pussy clenches at his words. How much you’re craving exactly what you’re getting. It’s stupid. So, so stupid.
Running your hands up his thighs, you slip your fingers into the band of his underwear and pants, sliding them down to free his waiting cock. And of course it’s perfect. His cocky demeanor is well backed up by the size of the dick in your face alone. Your mouth waters.
“There will be plenty of time for you to gawk, but right now you should really start sucking.” His fingers lace into your hair and lightly grip at the back of your head. You roll your eyes at him, but take his cock into your hand anyways.
His skin is cool to the touch but still flushed as you stroke him. A hum of approval comes from above you. You look up again, taking him into your mouth and making sure to hold eye contact as you do.
Your tongue swirls around him while your head bobs slowly up and down his long shaft. His grip in your hair tightens each time you take him a little deeper into your throat.
“Good girl, fuck,” Yoongi groans, grabbing the bottom of his button up shirt and pulling it up to his chest so that he can see everything that you’re doing.
Closing your eyes for a moment, you let your throat relax and take him all the way down until your nose presses against his lower stomach. The groan you receive in return is nothing short of delicious.
“I could tell from the moment I saw you watching Jimin fuck that girl downstairs that you were going to be the sweetest little slut.” He grips your hair hard, making you yelp around his cock. “And I was so fucking right.” Yoongi uses your hair as leverage to start rocking his hips and fucking into your mouth.
This is exactly what you want. You want him to use you and say dirty things. Your pussy has been clenching around nothing and dripping all over your thighs the entire time. You open your mouth as wide as you can and let him corrupt your throat, holding on to the backs of his thighs for dear life.
“How badly do you want my cum, little monster?” His voice is breathy and full of lust.
Unable to answer him with your mouth occupied, you slide your hands up to his ass cheeks and dig your nails in, making him jolt further down your throat. God you want it so badly.
“Fuck, that’s so good. So fucking good.” Yoongi releases his grip on your hair and lets you bob your head up and down him again to finish him off. 
You bring a hand around to stroke him in tandem with your mouth, squeezing at the head on each upstroke. You watch above you as his head finally falls back with a loud moan, his hand on the back of your head to hold you down as he cums down your throat.
He didn’t have to hold you there, you were gladly going to take it all, but it’s obvious this vampire loves control. So you continue to suck softly until he’s finished and pulls his cock from your lips.
You take in a deep breath when he releases you, falling forward slightly but catching yourself on your hands.
“Let me see,” Yoongi grumbles.
“See what?” you say, out of breath. He doesn’t answer, simply grabs your chin and yanks you back up to look at him. 
“Open your mouth,” he demands and you obey. “Good girl. I like to see that it’s all been swallowed down your perfect throat.” He releases your chin, extending his hand for you to take to help you up.
As you stand on wobbly legs, you’re surprised by the sudden gentleness from the man who was fucking your throat raw just moments ago. Yoongi helps you straighten your clothes and then moves on to his own, fixing his pants back into place as if the whole thing hadn’t just happened.
“Are you going to put sex in the contract now?” you ask, genuinely curious. Yoongi laughs quietly as he rounds the other side of his desk.
“If you’d prefer it be in writing I can have Namjoon add it in.”
“That…might be best.” You don’t know why. Maybe to give yourself the illusion that this isn’t something you’re more than willing to do.
“As you wish.” He sits back in his chair and watches as you head for his door. “And little monster?”
“Yes?” You almost jump at the sound of his voice again.
“A member of my staff will be taking you shopping and helping you get settled into my penthouse in the next few days.” 
“Your penthouse? I don’t remember living together being in the contract.”
“We have to make this as believable as possible. And I want to keep you close.” He opens his laptop, ignoring the surprised look on your face.
“Possessive much?” You glare at him, arms crossing over your chest. He hums with a smirk.
“Only when it comes to things that are mine.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and in that moment you aren’t sure if it’s out of lust or fear.
You don’t respond further, slipping out of his office so that you can breathe again.
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“Was all of this truly necessary?” you ask.
“Yoongi said you were to get everything you wanted.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders as he types into his phone.
Jungkook had come to your hotel room three days after you’d left Yoongi’s office. He’s apparently Yoongi’s assistant, and lucky for you, is much friendlier than his boss. He had other staff collect your things from your room and take them to Yoongi’s penthouse before rushing you out the door to shop.
“Yes, but you literally bought everything I even glanced at twice.” There are bags covering the entire floor of the elevator you’re riding up in, and the hotel attendants will be bringing tons more up from the car.
“Don’t overthink it. Just enjoy being the spoiled brat that you are for a few months,” Jungkook teases, making you roll your eyes with a laugh.
The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the very top floor of the hotel. Your stomach twists as the thought of living here with Yoongi finally dawns on you. This is a ridiculous idea.
“Welcome home!” Jungkook shouts, scaring you for a moment. 
You step out into the entryway of the penthouse, immediately overwhelmed by the beautiful set up. The entire far wall is windows, of course: it wouldn’t be a penthouse without ceiling to floor windows. But the way the sun is setting outside is breathtaking to see from this high up.
You move a little further inside, taking in the black leather couches and oversized fireplace in the living room area. Fur carpets cover the dark wood floors and abstract pieces of art sit on almost every table. 
It’s an open concept, the kitchen taking up the other half of the first floor. Though you aren’t sure why a vampire would need a kitchen with their…special diet. It has lights that drop down low from the ceiling and a huge island with tons of seating. Does Min Yoongi enjoy entertaining guests? You can barely imagine it.
“Boss should be back soon. Want me to wait with you?” Jungkook says, still typing away into his phone. He’s rather sweet for a vampire.
“I’ll be fine, Jungkook.” You give him a small smile as you wrap your arms around yourself. “And thank you for today.”
“My pleasure. You’ve got my number, anything you need just give me a call.” He looks up at you, then inhumanly fast is out the door. How will you ever get used to that?
You decide to look a little closer at the kitchen, letting your fingertips ghost over the black marble countertops. Making your way to the fridge, you open its huge doors to find it fully stocked with food.
“What the fuck?” you mumble to yourself. Why did he need all of this food? 
Before you close the doors, a bottle of wine on the top shelf catches your eye and you grab it before spinning around to face the kitchen island and search for a corkscrew.
What you don’t expect to see is Min Yoongi standing on the other side of the island, watching you carefully.
“Holy shit!” you screech, your heart lurching in your chest. “Can you please make some noise when you enter a room? Jesus.”
“Making yourself at home, little monster?” He smirks, likely loving the fact that you almost had a heart attack.
“I was just looking around.” You sit the bottle of wine down and lean over the counter, resting your elbows on the marble. “Is that okay?” You know that your cleavage is pushed up by the way you're bent over and you definitely did it on purpose.
“You’re welcome to look around.” He drums his long fingers against the countertop. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you.” You scoff.
“No bodies hidden in the closets? A coffin in your bedroom perhaps?” You reach up and carefully take a wine glass down from the rack hanging above the kitchen island.
“This isn’t the dark ages, little monster. The sun being a problem for vampires is something of the past.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the chair next to him.
“It seems vampires evolve very quickly.” You say it casually, hoping he will spill information that most humans don’t know; information that you can use when you write an article exposing everything about them.
“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He loosens his tie while slowly stalking towards you around the counter.
“It’s my job to be curious.” You try to pretend that him coming closer doesn’t affect you by pouring the wine into the glass you retrieved.
“Do you think you’re going to find a loophole in my contract? Something that would allow you to write your article? Foolish…” Yoongi wraps his tie around his palm and continues his slow movements towards you. Your stomach tightens, wondering when he’s going to get sick of you and kill you where you stand.
“We don’t need to talk about the article. It’s obviously not happening.” You take a drink, the sweet white liquid enticing your taste buds.
“Your heart gives you away.”
“What?” You’re taken aback by his words, taking them in a way he didn’t mean.
“It’s picked up speed. Almost a thrum. You’re lying…but that’s okay. You want to be brave, then go ahead. But I’m not your enemy, little monster.” He moves too quickly for a moment, coming too close all at once, causing you to drop your wine glass on the floor.
The glass shatters against the tile floor, the wine spreading out and filling into the space between the tiles. You don’t even think about your next move, bending down and immediately starting to pick up the shards of glass. 
“Sorry…” you start to say, nicking your palm on a piece of glass in your rush to scoop them up. “Fuck, that hurts. Could you hand me a rag?” You don’t look up at first, but when Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you get impatient. 
What you see is the monster you know you shouldn’t want so desperately.
His eyes are red and raging as he grips the counter top with one of his hands, the marble starting to crumble between his fingers.
“Get the fuck up.” Yoongi struggles but manages to get the words out between gritted teeth.
“What?” You scoot back across the floor, trying to put space between you. You watch as his hands shove into his hair, pulling at the long black strands as he makes pained groaning noises at the floor.
With that inhuman speed, Yoongi leans down and grabs your wrist, blood still leaking from the cut on your palm. The grip on your wrist is so hard you’re afraid he might break your bones.
“Yoongi, you’re hurting me. Let go,” you practically whimper as he drags you up from the floor and shoves you against the side of the island. “Stop. Please don’t…” 
You know that if he wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He could have drained you dry and no one would ever know to even look for you here. But the fear makes you feel alive. It makes your heart hammer and your pussy clench. What the fuck is wrong with you?
Yoongi grabs your wrist again, making you yelp in surprise. He stares at it for a moment, intently watching your blood slide down your skin. He closes his eyes before making his final decision.
You decide to close your eyes too, not sure if you want to see what could happen next.
To your surprise, what you feel is the warm, wet muscle of his tongue licking along the inside of your wrist up to your palm. Your eyes shoot open immediately, meeting his ruby colored orbs.
“I want to kill you,” he whispers against the skin of your wrist, lapping at the blood once more.
“I know,” you whisper back.
“Why does that make your pussy wet, little monster?” He smiles wickedly before his lips attach to the cut on your palm, sucking gently. You can’t help the moan that slips past your lips as you watch your blood coat his mouth and run down his chin.
“I…I don’t know.” You reach out with your other hand to grab onto his shirt and anchor yourself to something.
“All of that insolence seems to disappear when your pussy is getting what it wants.” He licks one more long stripe up your wrist before he pulls away, his eyes in the beginning stages of returning to their normal dark.
“You haven’t given me anything that I want.” You yank your wrist out of his hold, rubbing at the bruise marks already appearing. Yoongi rolls his eyes, grasping your shoulders and turning you around to walk you towards the sink. He turns on the water and motions for you to put your hand underneath it.
You turn your back to him, washing your hand under the warm water until it seems to stop bleeding heavily. You start to reach for a towel before you feel his chest against your back, his arms suddenly caging you against the counter in front of the sink.
“Why don’t you tell me what it is you want then, hm?” His breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine. “I can smell every bit of desire between your legs.” His knee comes up between your legs, making you brace yourself on the counter at the sudden pressure he’s putting against your pussy.
“Touch me…and don’t stop.” Your body shakes in anticipation. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, his tongue finding the lobe.
“You’ll take what I give you…and you’ll be fucking grateful.” His sharp fangs nip at your ear and cause your ass to press harder into his crotch. You don’t care what he wants to give you at this point, you’re too desperate.
“Please,” you whine.
“I’m feeling benevolent this evening…you sucked my cock so well the other day that I may even let you cum.” He presses his cock against your ass before pulling away from you all together.
“Asshole.” You scowl as you turn around to face him. Yoongi merely looks amused.
“I’m still hungry, little monster. Get on the counter.” He pats the marble top with his hand while he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt with the other.
“Why?”
“Are you always going to ask so many questions or are you just going to fucking listen?” He cards a hand through his long raven colored hair and sighs, drenched in annoyance.
“Fine.” You roll your eyes, walking towards him where he stands by the kitchen island. Before you even have a chance to call him more names, he’s grabbing you by the hips and practically tossing you onto the counter. “Fuck, Yoongi, can you try not to break me?” 
“Where's the fun in that?” He smirks, coming to stand between your thighs, your face just above his from this height. “I think you may even beg me for it.” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest as he watches your face.
You want to reach up and push some of the stray hairs away from his face. But that would mean you have some kind of affection towards this vampire and you can’t let that happen. It’s almost painful to keep your hands at your sides.
“Get on with it then.” Your lips just barely ghost his when you speak, yet another thing you have to keep yourself from wanting.
Too quickly, your back is suddenly pressed against the cold marble countertop when Yoongi grabs your thighs and pulls your ass to the edge. You yelp when his lips press to the inside of your thigh. 
“Maybe the human men you’ve slept with like that smart mouth of yours, little monster.” He shoves your skirt up over your hips, long fingers immediately finding your slit over your panties. “But me? It makes me want to devour you.”
You moan and don’t hold back the sound, shivering when you feel his fangs pressing against your skin. He sucks a trail up your thigh, leaving small blossoms in his wake. When you feel his tongue languidly slide over the outside of your panties, you almost come undone right there.
“Please don’t tease me anymore. I’m so wet already.” He licks at you again before raising his head to look at you. 
“Be a good girl and take what I give you.” His hand reaches between your thighs and, with no effort at all, rips your underwear from your body in a single motion.
You don’t have time to be snarky again before his face is buried in your pussy. Your back arches off the counter, fingers gripping at the marble to no avail.
The long muscle of his tongue swirls around your clit before expertly diving back down inside you, licking up every bit of wetness that leaks from you. The world feels as if it’s tilting on its axis, that feeling of falling clouding your mind when you start to feel the urge to cum after such a short period of time.
“You’re going to give me at least three, so stop holding back and let me have what’s mine.” The rough grumble of his voice vibrates straight to your core as the pad of his thumb strokes your clit and his tongue disappears back inside you.
“Oh fuck,” you whine, chest heaving as your first orgasm wracks through you like a hurricane on a path of destruction with no end in sight.
“Your cum tastes almost as good as your blood, little monster. Again.” His long fingers slide inside you easily as your body shakes from being over-sensitive.
“Feels so good.” Your hands take on a mind of their own and make their way into the long, messy strands of his hair, gripping at the roots and pulling him closer.
“Greedy.” Yoongi sucks harshly on your clit, letting it pop from between his lips before he soothes it with his tongue.
“Asshole,” you moan, feeling your second orgasm hurtling towards you. Yoongi laughs quietly against the inside of your thigh.
“You like the pain. Stop pretending that you don’t.” He nips at your skin with his fangs, making you flinch. “You just gushed on my tongue.”
“I can’t go again, Yoongi. I need to stop.” You can feel sweat dripping from your forehead, your skin hot to the touch.
“You can and you will.” His arms wrap tightly around your thighs and yank you back to the edge of the counter, your sweaty skin squeaking across the surface.
Your body is telling you to scream. The pleasure and the discomfort are dancing a fine line and your head is absolutely swimming. You begin to think that you may not live through this when his mouth is back on your abused pussy.
Yoongi throws your legs over his shoulders and licks deeper than he had been before, the bottom half of his face drenched in everything leaking from you through the past two orgasms.
“Bite me,” you beg. You know if he bites you that it will intensify everything you feel, but also bring the possibility that the monster consuming your pussy kills you.
Yoongi practically rips himself from you, his breathing ragged and rushed.
“Don’t ask for things that you don’t understand.” His long fingers find your swollen clit while the other hand swipes across his mouth.
“Please…please I can’t cum again without it.” Tears start to slip down your face.
“I could kill you. It would be so fucking easy.” His eyes start to turn red, the crimson bleeding into his dark irises.
“It’s worth the risk, isn’t it? Please…” You’re so desperate you have no idea what you’re saying. Yoongi scoffs.
“You really are a little monster, aren’t you?” Yoongi smiles, his fangs elongating. Your heart beats so fast, somewhat with fear but mostly with the anticipation of what you’ll feel when he bites you.
In a flash, the vampire between legs is sinking his teeth into the inside of your thigh. You gasp, all the air leaving your lungs as your eyes fly open, the light fixtures on the ceiling blurring. You grab at your breasts when a sudden flood of heat starts to spread through your entire body.
Your body jolts when Yoongi takes the first long drag of your blood into his mouth. He moans at the taste, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising hold. 
Another long pull of blood floods into his mouth and you start to see stars. Yoongi moves one hand back to your pussy, his fingers gathering wetness and spreading it up to your swollen clit. 
“Yoongi…” You’re so light headed you aren’t sure if you can keep your eyes open much longer. Yoongi rips his mouth from your thigh, his chest heaving, blood dripping off his chin and down his neck where it stains the white collar of his shirt.
“Good girl. You’re doing so well, baby.” He pushes you back further onto the counter before climbing onto it himself. 
You can feel the warmth of your blood coating your skin on your thigh, but the only other thing you’re desperately aware of is him. Him and the way he rips your dress off your body as if it wasn’t extremely expensive and brand new.
“I’m so close.” Everything between your legs aches but your greedy body still wants more.
“I’m going to keep you, little monster. You’re mine now.” He licks the inside of your thigh, dragging his tongue through the blood. “Say it.”
“Yours,” you sigh, his fingers gathering up the blood on your skin and spreading over one of your breasts.
“I’ll make you cum now, little monster. Good girls get what they need.” His sinful mouth attaches to your breast, licking and sucking the blood. 
You arch up from the counter top, pushing your breast further into his mouth and spreading your legs wider when his fingers make their way back inside you, petting your walls and stroking your g-spot until he’s making you cum again. 
Your cheeks are wet from tears and your body is weak from losing blood and orgasming a ridiculous amount of times. But somehow you manage to sit up on your elbows when Yoongi slides back off of the counter, wiping his mouth and licking his fingers clean of your juices and blood.
“You’re quite divine, even if you constantly test my patience.” He puts a hand out for you to take. When you do, he helps you down from the counter. “Let’s shower.”
“You want to shower with me?” Your legs wobble as you stand and Yoongi rolls his eyes.
“I need to make sure you don’t collapse while you’re in there. Don’t overthink it.” He looks around at the floor still covered in glass and the countertop covered in your blood. “I’ll have someone clean this up while we get you cleaned up.”
“Is it a normal occurrence for the cleaning staff to casually clean up blood?” You stumble a bit when you try to take a step. Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
“So many questions.” 
“You could’ve picked any human to be your fake girlfriend, I’m sure there are plenty of them that wouldn’t ask questions.” You take another wobbly step. Yoongi sighs behind you, moving too fast for your eyes as he scoops you up into his arms. Your eyes have no time to adjust before you’re in the bathroom.
“Don’t make me regret that decision, little monster,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, carefully sitting you down onto a chaise lounge chair.
“Why is this here?” you ask, hands sliding over the soft material.
“Perhaps I’ll show you some time.” He smiles wickedly, turning away from you to turn on the water inside the giant shower. Water pours down like a waterfall from the ceiling.
You take a moment to appreciate the incredible shower before your eyes find Yoongi again, his fingers still stained with your blood nimbly beginning to unbutton his shirt and revealing the smooth planes of his chest and stomach. It’s the first time you’ve really had a moment to appreciate the details of his body.
Your eyes fall on the crotch of his pants, still tented and tight.
“Do you want me to…” you motion towards his obvious hard on.
“No. Not tonight.” He holds out his hand for yours again. “Come here.” You let him wrap his fingers around yours, helping you to your feet. He makes sure that you’re steady before walking you into the shower.
Yoongi stands back, watching you walk under the steaming waterfall and removing his pants as he does. He commits the shape of your body to memory, eager to continue defiling it every chance that he gets.
You don’t hear him approach, your skin merely explodes in goosebumps when the cool skin of his hands and arms wraps around your torso from behind you. His face finds the crook of your neck, lips seeking out your throat and up to your jaw. It’s surprisingly…soft.
“Does it hurt?” he murmurs against your ear, fingers ghosting at your lower stomach. Cool lips kiss your shoulder.
“Just sore.” You turn your head and meet his eyes when he lifts his head. “I’ll be fine.”
Looking at him in that moment makes you suddenly realize that you’ve never kissed Yoongi. Maybe he wants it that way. Kissing is intimate and this is supposed to be an arrangement with no feelings involved.
He looks at you a moment longer before he clears his throat, his arms leaving your body as he kneels down in front of you.
“What are you doing?” Your eyes widen.
“Relax, little monster. I’m going to make it better. Hold onto my shoulders.” He waits until you do as he asks before he carefully lifts your legs, turning your inner thigh towards his face. 
Blood still slowly seeps from the puncture wounds he left behind, bruises forming around them. Yoongi looks up to meet your eyes once more, holding them as he sticks out his tongue and presses it to your thigh, swiping up the blood before he drags it over the punctures. 
Shivering at the feeling, you watch as the bite marks seal themselves closed and the bruising quickly fades from your skin. It’s as if nothing had ever happened.
“That trick must get a lot of attention at parties.” You try to laugh at your own joke, but you’re honestly so taken aback by what just happened in front of you. Yoongi smiles, a real one that you aren’t sure you’ve seen until now.
“Vampire venom has healing properties. I’m not a fan of the idea of you being uncomfortable in any way.” He presses a kiss to your thigh, then stands from the shower floor.
He helps you wash your body and hair, rubbing your scalp and shoulders until you almost fall asleep standing up. 
“Come to bed.” You suddenly realize that you’re no longer in the shower, but in Yoongi’s bedroom, a fluffy black towel wrapped around your body.
“Why am I in your room?” you ask, confused.
“Because you’re sleeping in my bed. With me.” He throws back the comforter and pats the mattress. “In the bed, little monster.”
“Why am I sleeping in here? Surely you have spare rooms in this ridiculously big penthouse.” The idea of Yoongi wanting you to sleep in bed with him feels strange.
“Of course there are, but you’re staying in my room. Stop asking questions for the night, I beg you.” He rubs his temple as he walks towards his closet, reappearing a literal second later with sleep pants on. “Sleep in this if you want.” He tosses a tshirt towards you and you barely manage to catch it.
“But I don’t…” you start to protest again and Yoongi is suddenly in front of you, his hand covering your mouth. 
“I want you to sleep in here. You’re mine and that’s all the explanation I’ll be giving you. No. More. Questions.” When you nod in understanding, he slowly moves his hand down and holds your jaw. “Get into bed.”
You nod again and he releases you, walking around to the other side of the bed. Yoongi settles with his back against the headboard, watching as you drop your towel and slip on the T-shirt he had given you.
“Are all vampires as possessive as you?” You glare at him playfully as you climb into the bed.
“What did I just say about questions, _____?” He throws his hands up in the air.
“Fine. Goodnight.” You dramatically grab the comforter and pull it over you, turning to face away from him. You hear him laugh quietly before the bed shifts once more and sleep grabs hold of you faster than it ever has.
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Weeks go by.
The arrangement becomes easier and easier to do. 
Yoongi brings you to parties and meetings and formal dances, dressing you up in the most gorgeous and expensive outfits. He gets you anything that you want and all you have to do is talk about how amazing he is to all of his human investors and guests.
He keeps you close, doesn’t let you wander too far. His cool hand is always at the small of your back. 
The possessiveness is something you thought you would find annoying. He explained it’s just in a vampire's nature to be that way. But it’s easy to just let it happen when deep down, you love it.
God there really is something wrong with you.
Yoongi being possessive, however, is not the biggest problem you’ve had over the last few weeks. The problem is that he refuses to fuck you.
There’s plenty of other things to keep the edge off. Using his mouth to possess you in an entirely different way. He buries his face between your legs every chance that he gets. In his office…on top of his desk…in every dark corner he can find. You repay the favor when he lets you, letting him use your throat as his own personal fuck toy. But it isn’t enough, and he brushes you off every time you try to bring it up.
Tonight is an extremely important night. Yoongi is throwing a party to celebrate the grand opening of his newest hotel. There will be hundreds of people in attendance that need to be impressed. 
“Are you almost ready?” Yoongi’s deep voice startles you as you stand in front of the vanity mirror in his bathroom.
“Just finishing up.” You pop in your second very large emerald earring before picking up the matching necklace. It’s the heaviest piece of jewelry you’ve ever felt.
“Can I help with that?” He comes to stand behind you, holding out his hand for the necklace.
“Thanks.” You carefully place it in his palm and turn back to the mirror, watching his face intently.
“You understand how important this night is, don’t you?” His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. “How badly I need it to go well?”
“I know.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror as he carefully brings the chain around your throat.
“Good girl.” His lips meet your shoulder, pressing a too-soft kiss to your already heated skin.
“You’re going to have to talk eventually.” Your eyes fall shut when his hands come around and cup your breasts from behind.
“I find it amusing that you think I owe you any kind of explanation for what I do or don’t do to you, little monster.” He pinches your nipples through the thin material of your dress, making you hiss through your teeth and lean further into him.
“Just tell me why you won’t fuck me, Yoongi. It’s been weeks.” You grind your ass against his growing erection.
“We’ll discuss this later. The car is waiting downstairs.” A scrape of his fangs across your shoulder before the feeling of his body against your back is gone.
“Asshole,” you grumble, straightening your dress and smoothing any hair that may have moved out of place. 
He waits for you at the top of the stairs, offering his hand to help you walk down them in your heels. You brush past him, taking on the challenge unassisted and making Yoongi scoff.
The universe has other plans for you though, not allowing you even a single moment of holding your head up high before you trip on the edge of one of the stairs. It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to make a sound.
There are arms abruptly wrapped around you, too quick for your human eyes to make sense of. The next thing you know, your back is being shoved against the railing, bent, with a vampire looming over you, his nose pressing to yours while his lips ghost just above you.
“Do you have a death wish, little monster?” Yoongi whispers, his hold on you tightening.
“I’m sorry…that was so…” You can’t think straight, let alone comprehend what just happened.
“Stupid? Yes, so very stupid.” One of his hands leaves your back and makes its way into your hair, pulling the strands to make you look up at him. “Do not ever endanger yourself that way again. I can’t be around all the time to keep you alive.”
“Okay.” You nod, lips brushing his in the motion. You shudder at their cool sensation. But when you move to try and kiss him, he immediately pulls back.
“Come on. We’re late.” When he offers his hand this time, you take it, letting him usher you into the penthouse elevator and down to the lobby. His bodyguards get the two of you into the car in a blur.
Yoongi doesn’t say a word in the car. He doesn’t even look at you the entire way to the new hotel. It’s fucking infuriating.
Once inside the hotel, you immediately grab a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, downing it quickly before you feel the familiar pressure of Yoongi’s hand on your lower back.
“Easy, little monster,” he says lowly. You roll your eyes, plastering on a fake smile and joining him to talk to some very rich humans.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” A tall man in a pristine suit and glasses says when you join them. He is incredibly handsome.
“Taehyung, this is my girlfriend, Y\N. Y/N, Kim Taehyung. He’s giving me a hard time about investing in my hotels.” Yoongi’s fingers gently stroke your bare back exposed from your dress. 
“Girlfriend? A human?” Taehyung asks curiously.
“100% human,” you laugh, nervously gesturing towards yourself.
“Wouldn’t have imagined such a pairing. Especially for you, Yoongi.” Taehyung sips his whiskey, his eyes staying on you even as he speaks to Yoongi. You’re too busy trying to laugh at everything he says to notice the way Yoongi’s jaw tightens.
“Yes, well, sometimes humans can be rather surprising. Tolerable even.” Yoongi looks at Taehyung like he wants to drain him, while everyone else standing there laughs at what Yoongi has said.
“Indeed.” Taehyung sips his whiskey again. 
“We should make our rounds, baby.” Yoongi runs his finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. “Come,” he whispers, only loud enough for you to hear. You bite your bottom lip, nodding as you thread your fingers through his.
“I hope to see you again soon, _____,” Taehyung calls from behind the two of you. Yoongi starts to turn around but you pull him back.
“Don’t. He’s trying to get under your skin.” 
“I could snap his neck…sever his throat…” Yoongi loosens his tie a little, pulling your hand to continue walking towards the outdoor balcony.
“You need him, don’t you? Just think about that.” 
“He makes the best gambling games in the damn country, of course I need him.” He runs a hand through his long hair, the strands of it even longer now than they were when you had first met him all those weeks ago.
“So let it go,” you sigh, releasing his hand when the two of you are alone outside. “I don’t know why you care anyways.” 
“I didn’t say I cared.”
“You were acting like a jealous prick back there. Seems like you might care a little.” You fold your arms over your chest, cool night air chilling your skin.
“I don’t, you ridiculously infuriating woman,” he half-laughs, pressing his palms to the stone wall that overlooks the hotel courtyard.
“Yeah, well, I don’t care about you either.” You’re practically pouting but you don’t care.
He groans, his fingers cracking the stone beneath them. You want to close the distance between the two of you, touch his chin and make him look at you.
“Why is it so hard for you to say?” you ask quietly.
“We’re talking about feelings here, little monster. I don’t do feelings,” he lies. You roll your eyes.
“Fine. I’ll go see if Taehyung wants to spin me around the dance floor a few…” you start to say, heading towards the door. You’re cut off by Yoongi grabbing the back of your neck and spinning you back around to face him. Your body presses to his, molding to the shape.
“You. Are. Mine,” he practically growls, a deep snarl on his face as he tries to keep the monster at bay. 
But you aren’t afraid.
“Then act like it. Show me that you want me or let me walk away.” Your breaths come out rushed and uneven as the two of you stand there, nose to nose.
He thinks for a moment. Almost too long. But then he smirks, his grip on the back of your neck softening slightly. 
“You’re not getting away that easily, little monster.” And then his mouth is crashing against yours, consuming, devouring.
You’ve thought about what it would be like to kiss Yoongi for weeks. You knew that you shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what he tasted like or how his lips felt.
The way he kisses you now is so incredibly unexpected, you have to remind yourself what planet you’re on. 
It only takes a moment for you to respond, pulling him closer and molding your mouth to his, filling in the spaces with your tongues. It’s when your fingers find their way into his hair that you really begin to grasp that there’s no coming back from this. There’s no more pretending.
Your thoughts are shaken when his hands travel to the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the stone wall of the balcony. You grip him tighter, afraid to look behind you and see the ground looming below.
“What’s wrong? You aren’t afraid of heights are you, little monster?” he teases, shoving himself between your legs and scooting you even closer to the edge of the wall.
“Anyone would be afraid of a two story drop.” You try to capture his lips again, anything to stop thinking about the possibility of falling, but he pulls back just enough to keep you wanting.
“As if I’d let you fall.” Yoongi whispers the words so quietly you barely hear them, his eyes staying on your lips.
“Maybe I already am.” You feel him stiffen, his body going rigid at your words.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Stupid, stupid girl,” he sighs. “There’s too much good in you…too much humanity for you to be talking that way.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
He stares at you for what seems like hours, gauging what could really be going through that head of yours. Then he gently kisses you again, melting away any facade either of you were trying to keep playing.
“We’re leaving,” he says after a moment of soft kisses.
“But we just got here. What about all the schmoozing we need to be doing?” 
“Screw the schmoozing. I want to fuck you.” He takes one of your hands and brings it between your bodies, helping you to cup his hardening dick through his pants. “This is what you want, isn’t it, little monster? So desperate to be filled with cock.”
You whimper, licking the seam of his lips with your tongue as you palm his cock, thoughts of literally anyone who looks out the window seeing the two of you out here turning you on even more.
“Take me home, please.” You’re no longer above begging.
“I’m going to leave you in ruins.” Yoongi means for it to be a threat, something to deter you from wanting this, but it only makes you wetter. The thrill and the danger and the possibility of devastation that making this choice could cause only make you want it more.
Yoongi grabs your wrist, walking with determination until you’re back inside the party where Namjoon immediately sees the two of you making your way through the crowd.
“Yoongi, what the fuck? There’s people looking for you.” Namjoon steps in front of Yoongi but it doesn’t stop him from his mission to get to the front door.
“Tell them I’m sick.” Yoongi opens the door, presses a kiss to the top of your hand and guides you outside. You can’t help the ridiculous smile that finds its way onto your face.
“Vampires don’t get sick.” Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you really going to do this to me?”
“I’ll make it up to you.” Yoongi guides you down the front steps of the hotel, your eyes landing on Jungkook at the bottom, leaning against the car and playing a game on his phone.
“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks, panic crossing his usually soft features.
“It’s okay, Jungkook. We just need the car.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly while Yoongi opens the door for you to settle into the passenger seat. You’re about to grab your seatbelt when he leans down into the car and kisses you. “What was that for?”
“It may be the last bit of sweetness you get from me tonight. Enjoy it while you can.” His teeth nip at your bottom lip.
“Who said I enjoy sweetness?” You make sure he sees the way you make your dress ride up your thighs. Yoongi groans.
“Perfect little monster,” he coos, taking one last look at your exposed thighs before he shuts the car door. You watch as Yoongi brushes off Jungkook and Namjoon’s protests of him leaving this important party and gets into the driver's seat. 
His long fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as he immediately punches the gas. And while you’re not afraid of the vampire sitting next to you, his driving is an entirely different story.
Luckily the drive back to the main hotel is short and you find yourself pressed to the wall of the elevator before you can even think of scolding Yoongi for his driving.
“I’ve pictured thousands of ways I’ve wanted to fuck you.” He hikes your leg over his hip. “But this is going to be quick.”
The elevator dings for the penthouse floor and with his inhuman speed, Yoongi moves you into the entry way and through the apartment, his mouth devouring yours as he deposits you onto his bed.
“No foreplay. Please just fuck me.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he licks down the column of your throat.
“Are you ready for me already?” His breath tickles your skin.
“Yes.” You take his hand and move it between your legs, your dress bunching around your hips as you push it out of the way.
Yoongi takes your hint, his fingers delving into your underwear to find your soaking pussy. He groans, pushing his fingers inside to pet your walls.
“So you are.” He sits up on his knees between your legs, throwing his suit jacket off of his shoulders and tossing it across the room.
You sit up on your elbows, watching intently as he undoes the buttons of shirt and reveals the beautiful skin of his chest and stomach. The muscles are there, but he’s also unexpectedly soft as your fingers explore the planes.
You help him the rest of the way out of his shirt, leaning up further to kiss his chest. His hands grip your hair but he doesn’t move you away, letting you traverse his skin with your lips and tongue for a moment.
“Get this off of me.” You start to reach behind you for the zipper of the dress but Yoongi has other ideas.
He reaches down and grabs your hips, flipping your body over so that you’re on your stomach and face down on the bed.
“Allow me.” His mouth is on the exposed skin of your back, kissing a wet path down your spine as he unzips the dress. You can’t help the moan that escapes you, or the way your hips push back to try and find friction. “Greedy,” he mumbles against the small of your back.
“Please, Yoongi. Just hurry up.” You slide the sleeves off of your arms so that Yoongi can pull the dress the rest of the way off. It must’ve been expensive, but he still tosses it to the floor.
When you try to roll back over onto your back, he grabs your hips and holds you in place.
“No, I think I’ll have you just like this.” You hear him take off his belt and the mattress move slightly when he removes his pants. “Hold onto something, little monster.” 
There’s no time to protest; you barely have time to grab the comforter before he’s sheathing his cock inside you in one fluid motion. You fall forward on your elbows, your face meeting the bed as you cry out from the intrusion.
“Fuck…” you whine, tightening your hold on the comforter as he starts to rock his hips, burying himself to hilt each time he pumps back into you. 
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? So desperate for cock that you’d let a vampire defile you.” His hands hold so tightly to your hips that you know there will be bruises immediately. 
“Yes, I wanted it so bad.” You can feel drool begin to form at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you harder.
“Just remember, little monster, out there you’re the perfect princess for the public to see. But in here, in my bed, you’re my good little whore.” He thrusts particularly hard on the last word, shoving your top half flat against the bed when your arms give out.
“Yoongi…” It barely comes out a whisper, but you know he hears you.
“Come here,” he grunts, leaning over your body and wrapping his arms around your torso, pulling you up to press your back to his chest, his cock staying nestled inside you as he adjusts you the way he wants.
His thrusts stay deep, but slow down slightly. One hand grips your breast while the other spreads your legs wider over his lap.
“I’m going to cum…fuck I’m so close.” Your head flops back and rests on his shoulder, sweat coating your skin.
“You’re lucky that I want to feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, little monster. I’m going to let you cum.” Rough fingers find your clit, sloppy circles sending you into a frenzy as you chase your orgasm.
“Right there, yes yes, right there.” Your thighs start to shake as Yoongi pulls you down further on his cock, holding you there as you come apart, squeezing his cock just like he wanted.
“Good girl. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” He swipes your hair away from your shoulder and suddenly sinks his fangs into your throat.
His bite only elongates your orgasm…it could have been two, maybe even three orgasms all chained together. Your sight blurs at the sheer force of the climax that rolls through you.
You’re barely coherent when you feel Yoongi release inside you, hot spurts filling you up and leaking down your thighs. He moans against your neck, taking two more long pulls of blood before he pulls off, hungrily licking at the trails of blood that trickle down your throat.
Your body is completely spent as Yoongi gently lowers you onto the bed, covering you with the comforter before he gets up off the bed. 
You watch with hooded eyes as he goes into his bathroom and comes back with a cloth to clean you up.
“Let me see the mess you made, baby.” He moves the covers off of your legs and cleans you up, making you whine at the contact of anything touching you there so soon. “Go to sleep.”
“I’m fine, I promise.” You snuggle deeper into the covers.
“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” You feel him join you in the bed. 
“Talk about what?” Your eyes are too heavy to stay open.
“The contract.” His cool body presses against your back and his arm falls over your waist. 
“What about it?” you mumble.
“The next phase of it, of course.” You feel his finger swipe at the blood still on your neck, popping it into his mouth.
“Phase?” 
“Engagement.” 
2K notes · View notes
oftenderweapons · 10 months
Text
In Your Calvin's | JJK
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Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)
Wordcount: 9.6k
Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship
Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact
Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.
Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.
One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)
Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨
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You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours. 
Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.
And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone. 
At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat. 
Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery. 
You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram. 
You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth. 
Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see. 
Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way. 
Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world. 
The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance. 
“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”
Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why. 
“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest. 
“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now. 
“I'm coming home.” You repeat. 
He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.” 
“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment. 
“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend. 
You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers. 
“Candy?” 
“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call. 
On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in. 
On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen. 
Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.
Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower. 
The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be. 
“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?” 
You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more. 
“Candy, love.” 
You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours? 
How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"? 
Who is this man? 
Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy? 
“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you. 
“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes. 
“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish. 
This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with. 
“Candy—” He starts. 
“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.” 
He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist. 
Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass. 
“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”
You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous. 
“I reckon you saw the commercial.” 
“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic. 
Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?” 
No. Not just anger.
Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone. 
Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?” 
You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.” 
The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—
“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade. 
“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?” 
Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum. 
“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated. 
“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.” 
And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too. 
“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.” 
What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other. 
“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.” 
The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”
You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem. 
His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone. 
It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over. 
He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be. 
His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”
You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you. 
His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”
You nod. 
“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”
“I’m better. I…”
“Tell me what you want.”
You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin. 
“Pick me up,” you say softly. 
And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom. 
“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”
You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him. 
He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day. 
He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—
“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back. 
His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better. 
You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him. 
You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin. 
“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place. 
He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.” 
You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed. 
He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it. 
You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so. 
“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.” 
And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel. 
“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow. 
He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.” 
You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”
His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys. 
He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein. 
“Do you want—” 
“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.” 
He stares at you, flabbergasted. 
“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.” 
He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it. 
“Okay.” 
You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly. 
You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.
You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure. 
“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass. 
He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly. 
This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk. 
You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.
He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already. 
“Go,” you repeat.
He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.
You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”
He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…
Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered. 
And you close the door on him. 
You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…
Oh, that, you think. And you get to work. 
Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights. 
“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you. 
He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”. 
He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does. 
And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him. 
“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet. 
“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest. 
“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief. 
“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him. 
“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show. 
“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.
“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head. 
“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”
“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut. 
“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”
His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”
“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog
an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see. 
It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts. 
Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles. 
“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face. 
You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.” 
He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you. 
He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes. 
“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds. 
His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him. 
“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly. 
“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail. 
“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.
“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating. 
“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”
His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb. 
“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him. 
“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin. 
“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need. 
“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic. 
“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him. 
“I do,” you admit. 
He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow. 
“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion. 
“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious. 
“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”
“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions. 
“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap. 
“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown. 
You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts. 
He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state. 
“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped. 
“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea. 
“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.” 
“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”
“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”
“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.
Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact. 
“Guk?” You ask, worried. 
“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”
You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.
“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”
“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout. 
“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch. 
“I’m so sorry, bunny.”
“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated. 
“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you. 
He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”
You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”
“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him. 
He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.
Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand. 
“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him. 
He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”
“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth. 
You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on. 
“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.” 
“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy. 
“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you. 
He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway. 
You don’t oppose. 
In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs. 
You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.
You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy. 
He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion. 
He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious. 
He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again. 
“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.
“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know. 
“Please,” you manage to say. 
He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance. 
As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells. 
“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”
That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back. 
You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard 
as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take. 
When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you. 
“Are you alright, Candy?”
You nod and take some large breaths. 
He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even. 
“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice. 
You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?” 
“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf. 
He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly. 
You press your lips to his to distract him. 
The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his. 
Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment. 
The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. 
“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”
“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”
He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest. 
He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms. 
“Still jealous, love?” he asks you. 
“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them. 
“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you. 
You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”
You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.
“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?” 
“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment. 
“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?” 
He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you. 
You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”
You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused. 
“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat. 
“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot. 
“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk. 
“And yet, you love me.”
“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.
You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down. 
His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully. 
“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think. 
“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face. 
You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers. 
He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely. 
“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly. 
He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads. 
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”
You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around. 
He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him. 
He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.
You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface. 
Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone. 
Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge. 
You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first. 
His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches. 
Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to. 
“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting. 
He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him. 
“I’m gonna draw you.”
He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?
“Candy?” he calls, unsure. 
He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided. 
“What— Where—?” He’s confused. 
And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for. 
“Candy, for the love of—”
“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”
He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him. 
“Please,” he whines. 
“Just a minute.”
He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress. 
“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines. 
You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats. 
You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head. 
“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?” 
You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react. 
He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him. 
He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen. 
“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh. 
“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?” 
You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless. 
He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently. 
He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry. 
Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?” 
And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop. 
He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle. 
You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables. 
He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either. 
“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?” 
You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.” 
His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation. 
“I'm sure,” you comfort him. 
He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you. 
You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath. 
“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.” 
His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars. 
“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?” 
You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does. 
“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick. 
“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.” 
You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.” 
The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth. 
He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them. 
“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you. 
It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you. 
You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you. 
“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face. 
His expression is lazy and satisfied. 
Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours. 
“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue. 
You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May. 
“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up. 
“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.” 
His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”
“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone. 
“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”
He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more. 
“Can I see the pictures in advance?”
He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”
You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”
He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”
You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back. 
You shake your head. “Brat.”
And he kisses you. Just that. 
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Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him. 
He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now. 
He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek. 
Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass. 
He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom. 
A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery. 
“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young. 
You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”
His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet. 
“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving. 
“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably. 
“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”
He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult. 
“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again. 
He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”
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Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!
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sugarwithtea · 11 months
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bounty (m) | myg [teaser]
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bounty (noun) : a sum paid for killing or capturing a person. if there was one person who annoyed you the most, it was min yoongi. but what happens when he calls you after escaping someone hired to end him? a dance, which ends in a surprising way.
pairing ; gang leader!yoongi x thug!reader (f)
rating/genre ; m (18+)//smut, angst (minor), enemies to ???
wc ; for the teaser - 470 // for the fic - 4k+
warnings for the teaser ; guns, swearing. for the fic ; explicit smut in public, knives, mentions of death, gore, murder (main characters) and many more!
note ; tread with caution ⚠️ the teaser is mild but the fic won't be (it will be very dark!) also, happy d-day dropping everyone hehe!! thanks to @cowboylikeyoongi for helping me with smth very major!!!! please let me know if you wanna join the taglist for this!
masterlist | taglist
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You stand straighter, putting your hands on your waist and chewing the end of the cigarette in your mouth. You survey the area with squinted eyes, pushing your thin jacket behind to reveal your black tee and the gun, with which your finger toys.
You had heard of this place, and how there was a big bounty on the leader of the gang who ran the place. They were dogs, fiercer than wolves, but still fucking cowards. Your boss had asked you to stay clear of the massacre, something about leaving the lowly on his own. And you obeyed, for Min Yoongi was a man who riled you up so much, that anger always lived on your nose – and the tip of your tongue.
The way you were called into the yard, you assume whoever tried to get the meaningless bounty had failed. You shake your shoulders in amusement, and take another drag from your cigarette, kicking the dust at your feet. One more minute, and if he doesn't show up you are getting the fuck out of here.
It's as if the universe heard your thought and plotted against you returning because as soon as you turn back towards the raging fire, a hand wraps itself around your neck and pulls you behind. You let out a loud snort of amusement around the cigarette as you are pulled into a hard chest, his arm around your neck and breath on top of your ear. You quickly pull your cigarette out with one of your hands and exhale, letting the smoke fog you.
As soon as you register his breath, a hard thing pokes you on the base of your throat, and you look down to see the muzzle of his gun at your throat, pressing into your skin. His arm is right above it, and you see the way his fingers wrap around the trigger guard, away from the actual trigger. You scoff at it – still a coward.
He pushes the muzzle deeper into your skin, and you feel his chest going up and down, as his hand around your neck brings you so near him, that you feel him mold against you. You arch an eyebrow and tilt your head, a laugh leaving your lips.
"Hello to you too, Yoongi.'' He hated it when you, or anyone called him Yoongi, so you did just that. He doesn't want to be related to his family, or have a semblance of their relationship with him. And there was one thing that could erase it – his name. So he changed it to Agust D.
"You came?" His voice is gruff against your ear, and you don't miss how deep it is, just like the ocean. You take a deep breath and exhale, before speaking again with a delayed snort.
"You called?"
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if you wanna join the taglist for this specific fic then lmk via comments :)) (permanent taglist peeps will be tagged in the reblogs for this one hehe 😉)
feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated! so please lmk your thoughts :))
© sugarwithtea. do not repost.
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hoseokhasmyheartxx · 1 year
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Nothing's Changed | MYG
*Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader *Word Count: 7.4k I'M SORRY 😳 *Genre: friends to lovers, "only one bed" trope, some angst, fluff, non-idol au, fake dating (ish) au *Warnings: NSFW SMUT, MINORS DNI. alcohol consumption, brief mention of parent death, piv sex, unprotected sex (be smart, you perverts), oral (f receiving), nipple play, a bit of overstimulation if you squint, Yoongi has dirty thoughts frequently, reader has to be convinced kinda, i dunno what else to say except good luck reading this nonsense *Summary: You and Yoongi have been best friends since college. The rest of your friend group wants to go on a couples' trip, leaving you and Yoongi to share a room. But to your surprise, your room only has one bed... will the two of you be able to get through the week without letting the other know how you feel? *A/N: welp, i'm sorry in advance for how long this "drabble" turned out to be. after Yoongi's live yesterday i had way too much motivation and it was just total word vomit inspiration. happy birthday to our gorgeous cat boy! 🐱
Main Masterlist
Eight years ago, you were spending most nights in the study area of your university’s library. The building was empty aside from the few other students scattered around the area, seemingly studying for finals just as you were. You had been sitting at a table at the edge of the room for the last three hours, papers strewn everywhere and your calculus book laid open on the table, head in your hands, feeling entirely defeated. Working the same problem for the last thirty minutes still hadn’t changed your answer, and it was still wrong. You sighed, about to give up for the night, when you heard the sound of a chair scrape against the carpet to your left. Looking up, you saw a familiar face, one you hadn’t spoken to before, but familiar all the same. 
Min Yoongi. He was taking the same calculus class as you, and from what you assumed based on the posted class averages over the last few months, he was the one who had been basically floating the entire class thus far. You (and the rest of your class) had barely managed to earn passing grades on every exam you’d taken so far, except for Yoongi. He, on the other hand, had aced everything. You didn’t think there had been one exam that he’d scored less than a 95 on, and it frustrated you. How could calculus come so easy to him, when the rest of you were barely treading water?
“You look desperate. Need some help?” Yoongi asked as he sat in the chair next to you. He looked over at you expectantly, resting his elbows on the table, the thumb and index finger of one hand holding up his chin. 
“Actually, yes. I am so lost. There’s no way I’m gonna pass this class,” you responded, sighing. He turned your textbook to face him, scanning the page to see what you were working on. He laughed softly to himself, pushing his hair behind his ear before he looked back up at you.
“Okay, no problem. I’m done studying for this class already. We still have two days until our final, right? I got you,” he said confidently, his gummy smile peeking at you. He reached for your notebook, eyes skimming the pages in front of him. A minute later, he tapped the page. “I see the problem.”
Yoongi spent the next two hours tirelessly explaining everywhere (yes, multiple spots) you had gone wrong. Things were slowly starting to click, the gears in your head finally spinning in the right direction. Occasionally, they still got stuck, but he was doing a really good job of helping you to unstick them.
“We should call it a night. If you study too hard, you won’t remember anything we just did. Meet me tomorrow night at six at the dining hall if you want more help,” Yoongi said as he stood, packing his things back into his backpack. 
“The dining hall? That’s a really loud place to study,” you responded, a look of utter confusion painting your face.
“We’re not gonna study at the dining hall, dummy. We are, however, gonna have dinner before we come back to the library. You’re buying,” he said with a laugh as he turned and walked away.
The next night, after a quick dinner that was less awkward than you’d expected, you and Yoongi spent another three hours at the library, heads buried deep in your calculus textbook once again. At the end of your study session, you finally felt confident enough to take your final exam the following morning. And it was all thanks to Min Yoongi.
Your friendship blossomed after those late night study sessions. Although you didn’t have classes together anymore when your calculus class ended, you still managed to spend at least a few nights every week together. Sometimes you sat in his living room watching trashy reality tv (which he hated), other times you would cook together (which, let’s be real, more often than not led to Yoongi getting frustrated with your lack of cooking ability and finishing it himself while you watched). He had even dragged you to a few basketball games, much to your dismay since you didn’t particularly like sports. But you loved spending time with him, and seeing him get excited when his team was winning was worth the potential boredom for you.
The two of you basically grew up together. You had met when you were only twenty-two, about to graduate college, and now you were both pushing thirty. You both had fairly successful careers in your chosen fields (music production for him, finance for you), and you had been through more than your fair share of struggles together. You were the one who was there for him when his long term relationship fell apart, and he was the one who talked you off the ledge when you lost your mother almost immediately after. Being roommates with Yoongi made these hardships easier. Neither of you were alone when you were at your worst, you always had someone to turn to when you needed a distraction or a shoulder to cry on. After eight years of friendship, and four years of living together, you were certain that the two of you were platonic soulmates. 
The friend group you’d collected over the years had slowly become your family. Yoongi brought two of his childhood friends, Hobi and Jimin, along with his coworkers Namjoon and Taehyung, into your circle, and you’d accepted them all like they were your long-lost brothers. Three of them eventually married, growing your friend group even more because you had built-in female friends in their wives. Your best friend since birth, Seo-Jun, loved Yoongi just the same as you did. But, she loved Taehyung even more. You weren’t even the slightest bit surprised when they got together. This left you and Yoongi as the only ones left in your group who hadn’t married yet. But, at only thirty, neither of you cared too much about that. You were still enjoying your youth. Things were just easier when you weren’t tied down, having to worry about another person when making all your decisions. You could just be.
Both your and Yoongi’s lack of a romantic partner is what made you being roommates so simple. Unfortunately, this had been the downfall of his last relationship. The woman he was so sure about, but whom he wasn’t quite ready to marry, refused to accept that you were his best friend. She slowly worked her way into every part of his life, only to give him an ultimatum of moving out of your shared apartment and into hers and ending your friendship, or losing her altogether. Yoongi came to you for advice, but you couldn’t tell him what to do. You just wanted him to be happy, even if that meant losing him. You told him just that, even though it pained you to do so. He left that conversation and came back that evening, brokenhearted over the loss of who he thought was meant for him. You, on the other hand, had never had a long term relationship. You had dated people, certainly, but none had ever panned out for one reason or another. Most of the time it ended because of (so-called) unrealistic expectations on your end, or an obvious fear of being with a powerful woman on their end. Men didn’t appreciate the hard work you put into your career in finance, and were threatened by your independence and hard-charging nature. Ultimately, the two of you had made peace with the fact that maybe you were just meant to do life on your own, supporting and loving each other the way only best friends could. Your lack of romantic partners is also why the thing your friend group proposed one afternoon was comically shocking.
“A… couples’ trip,” Yoongi repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked over at you, noticing the way your entire body was shaking as you tried to control your laughter. 
“Listen. We know the two of you don’t have partners. But the rest of us really want to go on this trip together, and the resort will give us a group rate if we book five rooms!” Taehyung explained.
“It’s a really good discount. You guys already share an apartment. Why can’t you share a room for a week?” Seo-Jun asked, blinking up at you sweetly, trying her hardest to get her way. That tactic worked on Taehyung, but you weren’t sure why she expected it to work on you.
“It’s at a couples’ resort. It specifically says ‘couples only.’ We’d be found out so fast. No way could Yoon and I pass as a couple,” you told her, still laughing as you scrolled through the website Seo-Jun had sent to you.
“Please, just think about it! It’ll be fun. You guys don’t have to spend the entire week together. All you have to do is just share the room,” Namjoon’s wife, Ji-Ho, chimed in.
It was obvious that all of your friends really wanted you to agree to this bizarre plan. You could use a vacation, but the thought of having to pretend to be in a relationship with Min Yoongi? That would never work. What happened next shocked you even more than the original proposal.
“I’m down for it. As long as the room has two beds, because there’s no way I’m sharing a bed with her,” Yoongi finally said. Looking over at you, he added, “I’ve seen you starfished on your own bed too many times. No thank you.”
You feigned offense, placing your hand over your chest with a fake gasp on your face. He laughed, eyes scrunching closed in signature Yoongi fashion, shoving your shoulder playfully. You sighed, knowing you had to say yes now. 
“Okay, fine. We’re in,” you answered. Your answer was immediately met with squeals of excitement from the girls, a hug from Seo-Jun, and excited high fives amongst the guys. Amidst the chaos, you glanced over at Yoongi, seeing a small smile on his face that told you he was grateful for you having said yes to this insane plan.
Later that night, you were lying in bed after finishing your bedtime routine, ready to sleep, when intrusive thoughts began racing through your head. What would this “fake relationship” scenario look like? Would it be as simple as just holding Yoongi’s hand whenever you were in common areas of the resort so that staff wouldn’t catch on to your lie? What if there were couples’ activities that your friends were participating in; would you have to do those as well? The resort looked especially romantic, from what you’d seen on the website, and it made you wonder: could you do romance with Min Yoongi? What if you wanted to do romance with Min Yoongi?
You shook those thoughts off immediately, unwilling to consider anything other than what you already knew: Yoongi was nothing more than your best friend, and he would stay that way forever. You fell asleep shortly after, unbothered by your strange train of thought, reducing it to being caused by your incessant need to plan everything down to the minute, and the fact that you weren’t in control of this vacation.
At the other end of the hall, the same train of thought barged into Yoongi’s head, as if you had transferred your thoughts directly to him. However, his replies to himself were slightly different. He knew exactly how to survive this “couples’ week” with you. But one thing worried him more than anything else. What if he played up this fake romance too much and exposed himself? Would your friendship ever recover if his feelings for you came out? The anxiety kept him up most of the night, tossing and turning, wondering if this vacation was a good idea after all.
Two months later, your group of ten was scattered across a plane, sitting in pairs, heading to Mexico for your much anticipated vacation. The flight was short, only three hours, and you had had a particularly exhausting week at the office, so you planned to catch up on some sleep so you could arrive refreshed and ready to make the most of your week away. You were seated with Yoongi, of course, and before you knew it, you were nodding off, eyes closing slowly as you fell asleep, head resting against the window of the airplane. 
Yoongi’s breath caught in his chest as your head fell onto his shoulder. You were clearly in a deep sleep; he didn’t mind you resting there. Plus, in eight years of friendship, it’s not like the two of you hadn’t fallen asleep together a few times before. But every time it happened, his body reacted the same way. Hitched breathing, tensed muscles, fluttering heart rate. Somehow, you had never noticed, and he was thankful for that. He couldn’t stomach the thought of scaring you away if you ever found out.
The flight went smoothly, and just as soon as you had fallen asleep, you were being shaken awake by your best friend. “Hey. We’re here, get up!” he exclaimed.
You blinked a few times, trying to wake yourself up. The plane was already half empty, passengers trickling down the aisle with their belongings. You moved to grab your bag from under your seat, but Yoongi had the same idea. The side of your head smacked against his forehead, eliciting a loud groan from him.
“Seriously? We just got here and you’re already being mean to me. We’ll definitely pass for a couple,” he remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing full well that he was just teasing you. You grabbed your bag with a huff of remorse, smiling at him after that.
Bags finally obtained, you left your seats and exited the airplane, joining your group at baggage claim. Three of the couples already had their suitcases, but the luggage was still coming out, so it wouldn’t be long until the rest of you were able to retrieve your own bags. Once your bags arrived, your group headed toward the arrivals hall, searching for the driver who would be waiting for you.
The resort you were staying at prided itself on “all-inclusive service from arrival to departure,” which meant that you were picked up from the airport upon arrival, driven to the resort, where you would be bathed in luxury for the entirety of your stay, and then driven back to the airport on the day of your departure. This ensured that none of you would have to lift a finger the whole week. Everything was included in your booking, from food and drinks (even most alcohol), to daily scheduled activities and even off-resort trips. At check-in, each “couple” (said lightly, since you and Yoongi weren’t really a couple) received their room keys and a printout of the week’s events. The rest of your group went first, leaving you and Yoongi to check in last.
“And finally, Mr. and Mrs. Min. Here are your keys and this week’s schedule. We hope you enjoy your stay with us, and please don’t hesitate to come to us for anything you may need this week,” the receptionist said warmly.
Yoongi looked over at you standing next to him, gauging how well you were playing your part. You smiled at him, a small glint of affection in your eyes. He smiled back at you, glad that the receptionist’s belief that you were married didn’t seem to bother you. There was nothing else he needed in this world if it meant you’d smile at him that way every day.
Once the check-in process was finished, you and your friends gathered together, comparing room locations. The resort had informed you when you first booked your trip that even though you’d booked your rooms with a group rate, that didn’t guarantee you’d all be staying near each other. This turned out to be true; all of your rooms were spread out across the resort, except for the rooms assigned to Namjoon and Taehyung and their wives. The four of them had rooms directly across from each other. 
“Alright everyone. Let’s go get settled in and check everything out. We can meet back up for dinner, say around seven?” Jimin asked. Everyone agreed and the group parted ways, leaving you and Yoongi alone to find your room on the small map given to you by the front desk.
Your room wasn’t too far from the lobby. On the way there, you passed a large pool with a swim-up bar, a basketball court (which excited Yoongi, as expected), and a gym that looked to be pretty well equipped with various exercise machines and plenty of floor space for individual workouts. Following the path out of the central area and around the backside of the resort, you were greeted by a sweeping expanse of ocean. You stopped in your tracks, eyes lit up, not believing what you were seeing. After all, you didn’t live close to the beach, and had only seen the ocean a few times before in your life. The ones you’d been to were nothing compared to the view in front of you. The water was crystal clear, a vibrant shade of turquoise as far as you could see.
“C’mon, you goon. It’s just the ocean,” Yoongi said from up ahead, pulling you out of your daze. You rolled your eyes at him once again, following him along the path to get to your room. He was several steps ahead of you, arriving at the door of your room quickly, while you were still meandering along the path to catch up to him, finding it hard to concentrate on anything except the beautiful ocean to your left. You watched him as he used his key to unlock the door, opening it and walking through the entryway. You caught up to him soon after, entering the room yourself, but you were stopped by the sudden force of walking directly into Yoongi’s back, throwing you back a bit.
“What’s your problem?” you asked, smacking his shoulder blade lightly.
He turned to face you, replying with, “Not my problem. Our problem.” With that he pointed to the inside of your room. You looked over his shoulder to see exactly what he was referring to.
One king-sized bed was staring you straight in the face from the center of the room.
“Oh,” you let out, a look of surprise spreading across your face. 
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it,” Yoongi reassured you as he stepped around you and walked back out the door. You were left standing alone in the room after that, not wanting to move to avoid messing up the room for the housekeeping staff who would inevitably come to check out the room after the two of you were switched to the correct room type.
Ten minutes passed before you heard the click of the door unlocking behind you. Yoongi walked in with a defeated look in his eyes. He sighed, smiling at you gently.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Yoon, just stop. Did you get it fixed?” you replied, an exasperated puff of air leaving your lips.
“Well, no. I didn’t. Apparently this is one of their busiest weeks and they just don’t have another room to switch us to. They said the rooms with two beds were reserved only for handicapped guests needing accessible accommodations,” Yoongi explained.
“So, what you’re saying is that we have to spend the next week somehow sharing a bed. What could possibly be the ‘good news’ in this situation?” you asked him, your tone of voice raising to a shrill whine.
“The good news is that they gave us a voucher for fifty percent off dinner at their premium restaurant. But yes, we are gonna have to share the bed,” Yoongi finished.
You sighed, a look of absolute terror on your face. In all the years the two of you had been friends, you had never shared a bed. Sure, you’d fallen asleep together during a movie on your couch many times, or like earlier on the plane, but actually sharing a bed? No. The thought had never crossed your mind. That was a level of intimacy that you never wanted, afraid of how it could turn out. You knew you moved around a lot in your sleep. What if you tried to cuddle him in your sleep? Or worse, what if you tried to cuddle him and he rejected you? You shook your head, trying to clear your mind.
“Uh… you alright? It’s honestly not a big deal to me. It’s just sleeping,” Yoongi said with a shrug of his shoulders, hand running through his hair.
“Um, yeah, sorry. Yeah, I’m good. No big deal,” you stuttered, trying not to sound too shaken by this new development.
“Alright then. That’s settled,” Yoongi replied enthusiastically, “what do you wanna do until we meet the others for dinner?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going down to the beach. We have, what, two hours?”
Before he could even answer you, you were rifling through your suitcase, pulling out one of the swimsuits you’d brought for the trip. You squeezed past Yoongi to get to the bathroom to change, taking only a minute to rid yourself of your travel clothes and swap them with the tiny blue bikini you’d bought the week before. You didn’t usually have the confidence to wear swimsuits, instead choosing to swim in shorts and a swim shirt, but hell, you were on vacation and you were going to take advantage of that. You didn’t even bother to put a coverup over your swimsuit before opening the bathroom door and returning to your suitcase to grab your sunscreen and towel.
Yoongi stopped what he was doing, not fully processing the sight in front of him. His mouth agape, he couldn’t help but to let his eyes linger on your barely clothed form across the room. He wasn’t huge on swimming, and the few times he had gone to the pool with you, you hadn’t worn anything like that before. Looking at you, dressed like that, stirred up feelings that had long since been buried in the back of his mind. He wished you had shown him this part of yourself years ago. If you had, maybe he would’ve had the courage to tell you his feelings for you.
“Hey. Earth to Yoon,” your voice rang out, fingers snapping inches from his face. He shook his head, coming back to reality. 
“Sorry. What?” he asked, rubbing the side of his face, trying to shake off the completely impure thoughts racing through his brain.
“I asked you if you can get my back,” you repeated, shaking the bottle of sunscreen out at him. He took it from you, hesitantly opening the cap and squeezing some out onto his palm. You turned around and lifted your ponytail up to give him a clean canvas to paint with the protective layer. You jumped a little as his cold hands touched your spine, feeling his fingers massage the lotion into your back. 
Yoongi bit his lip as he concentrated on making sure to cover your entire back and the rest of your shoulders that you couldn’t reach. This small, friendly action definitely wasn’t helping to ward off the impure thoughts from just a minute ago. In fact, it was only fueling them. He imagined his hands roaming elsewhere on your body, getting to touch you in places that had always been off limits to him, imagining your body writhing underneath him. These thoughts had been tormenting him for months now, which both surprised him entirely and also completely didn’t. He took a deep breath as he slipped his hand underneath the string of your bikini top to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots, then clapped both his hands on your shoulders and gently shoved you toward the door.
“All done. Now go, have fun, try not to drown,” Yoongi said with a laugh as he watched you walk out the door.
Left alone with only his own thoughts, Yoongi’s mind began to wander. What if he did tell you how he felt? The two of you had been friends for so long that he felt like it could go one of two ways. One, you’d laugh it off and tell him he was being ridiculous, and then you’d forget about it, and your friendship would remain intact. Or two, you wouldn’t be able to understand and it would cause irreparable damage to the friendship you’d been building over the last eight years. He didn’t know which option was worse, telling you and facing rejection, possibly losing the best friend he’d ever had; or not telling you, and living with the weight of his unconfessed feelings forever. This week, he’d be living in even closer quarters with you than normal, and he wasn’t sure how to get through it. But he was going to try his hardest to act like nothing was going on inside his head.
Seven o’clock rolled around and the two of you met up with the rest of your friends for dinner at the agreed upon restaurant. Namjoon had called ahead to make sure they could seat all ten of you together, so there was a large table toward the back of the restaurant waiting for your group when you arrived. Everyone sat down, ready to catch up and talk about how the rooms were and how they’d spent their first few hours at the resort.
“So, we have some fun news,” Yoongi said with a laugh. That got everyone’s attention, most of the group looking up from their menus to give him their full attention.
“Our room only has one bed. Yoon tried to get us switched to a different room, but there was nothing available. So, we’re stuck sharing for the week,” you explained.
An awkward silence took over the group. A few seconds passed, and suddenly, Jimin and Hobi were cracking up laughing. The rest of the table stared at them, unsure what was so funny. Yoongi, of course, knew exactly why they were laughing, but he trusted them to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t blow his cover.
“Phew. Sorry, I’m just imagining Yoongi curled up in a tiny ball while ____ spreads out across the bed the whole week,” Hobi explained, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye that had been pushed out by his laughter. Jimin nodded in agreement, but Yoongi didn’t miss the knowing look that he shot him before the subject naturally changed to everyone’s afternoon activities. You shared about your time on the beach, telling everyone how nice the water was and that you loved being able to go whenever you felt like it. Namjoon had spent his time reading, while Yoongi had played a bit of basketball. The rest of the group had just relaxed in their rooms until it was time to get ready for dinner. 
Dinner passed quickly, drinks flowing freely with everyone in full vacation mode. The ten of you always had a great time when you were together, although more often than not most of you drank more than you should, at the insistence of Jimin. Tonight was no different. Yoongi was three glasses of whiskey deep into a bottle the other guys had purchased. You and the girls were drinking fruity cocktails, yours containing more tequila than fruit. Hobi had turned completely red-faced after drinking his second drink, and the rest were drinking a combination of the whiskey and some other drinks that Jimin ordered for them. You were glad you were on vacation, because you knew you would wake up at least some degree of hungover the next morning. You spent so much time at the restaurant that your server had to come tell you that you needed to leave because it was closing time. Everyone gathered their things, talking amongst themselves about if they should move to the resort’s nightclub for a few more drinks.
“I think I’m actually gonna go back to the room for the night. I do not want to spend this entire trip vomiting from trying to keep up with Jimin,” you said as you picked up your purse, waving goodbye to the group as you walked away.
The rest of your friends walked in the opposite direction, heading to the nightclub. Yoongi and Jimin were the stragglers of the group, walking a few feet behind everyone else. Jimin nudged Yoongi with an elbow to the ribs, cocking his head to the side before he said what he’d been meaning to say all night.
“Bro, are you ever gonna tell her how you feel?”
Yoongi sputtered, unsure how to reply. He knew that Jimin knew, obviously. He had admitted it himself years ago when Jimin had questioned why he would move in with you if you didn’t share his feelings. Back then, he had tried to come up with excuses and act like he didn’t know what Jimin was talking about, but Jimin had coaxed it out of him. He was sworn to secrecy and had kept his word so far, rarely even mentioning it except for in situations like this (situations being drunk nights together when you left early and Yoongi was stuck with him, watching you leave).
“Minie, I told you. I can’t,” Yoongi replied, sighing.
“Why not?”
“I’ll ruin everything. I can’t lose her,” Yoongi answered. He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that telling you he was in love with you would fuck up your friendship, and that was something he could never take back once it was out in the open.
“Listen. You might think it’ll ruin everything. But I don’t think so. I’ve seen how you two are together. You’re best friends. I think you need to tell her, before you don’t have the chance anymore. I’ve been keeping this to myself for years because you asked me not to bring it up. But I just can’t keep watching you suffer when there’s a really simple solution. Just tell her,” Jimin let out in one quick response.
Yoongi stared at him, wide-eyed. He knew Jimin was right, but he never thought he’d have the courage to go through with it. Luckily for him, Jimin had just the thing to help calm his nerves. He handed Yoongi a small flask, and he took a gulp of the bitter liquid, handing it back. It was now or never.
“Good luck, man,” Jimin said, clapping him on the back and pushing him back in the direction of your shared room.
Yoongi took several deep breaths as he walked, unsure who was controlling his movements, because it sure as hell wasn’t him. He had no idea how he would even begin to get this out, but the combination of Jimin’s confidence in him, and the shot of liquid courage he’d just downed, made him feel like he could.
Before he knew it, he was using his key to enter your room. You turned around at the sound of the door shutting behind him, surprised to see him.
“What happened to everyone going to the nightclub?” you questioned, confused look on your face.
“Ah, yeah. They did. I just decided to come back early. Started feeling the liquor a little more and I knew I’d regret it if I kept drinking,” Yoongi explained, hand rubbing the back of his neck, a small smile on his lips. 
“Makes sense. That’s exactly why I didn’t go out either,” you said, laughing at the thought of your entire group stumbling back to their rooms in the dead of the night.
You continued getting ready for bed, going into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Yoongi followed you, and you scooted over for him to share the sink with you as he washed his face and brushed his teeth as well.
You left him in the bathroom, claiming the right side of the bed before he could give an opinion on which side he wanted. You curled up under the soft comforter, turning over to switch off your bedside light, deciding that sleeping facing the wall would probably be in your best interest this week. 
“Figures,” Yoongi scoffed as he shuffled his socked feet across the room to climb into bed next to you. You knew that Yoongi preferred the right side of the bed, but so did you, so it was only fair for whoever got there first to call dibs on it. You felt the bed dip down behind you as Yoongi laid down, and his light turned off seconds after. The room was quiet, only the sounds of the ceiling fan and Yoongi’s deep breathing saving you from being too restless to sleep.
Minutes passed, and you were starting to drift off when you heard Yoongi turn over onto his side. Suddenly, you felt his warm hand on your arm.
“Hey, are you still awake?”
“Yeah,” you responded quietly.
A deep, shaky breath left Yoongi’s lips, and then, “Can I talk to you about something?”
Your breath caught in your throat. In all the years you had been friends, he had never asked to talk to you about something. Any problem he had with you was always blurted out at random, which was something you admired about him. He was never afraid to speak his mind when it came to you or his other friends, so his hesitancy worried you. You rolled over to face him, feeling like whatever it was should be said face to face instead of said to your back.
“What’s up?” you asked him. The moonlight shone through the gaps of the curtains on the window across the room, illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. You looked at him, seeing a discomfort that you rarely noticed in him. You had only seen that look in his eyes a few other times, which confused you even more. Yoongi took a few more deep breaths before beginning.
“This isn’t something I ever planned to tell you. Shit, it isn’t something I ever planned to feel at all. But I do, and I just can’t go on acting like there’s nothing going on with me. Jimin was the one who gave me the push I needed to finally tell you. But the truth is, I am so fucking in love with you. I have been since the summer after graduation. We got so close and you became my best friend, and I didn’t want to mess any of that up, so I kept it to myself for so long. But I just can’t anymore,” Yoongi breathed out, his eyes locked on yours, his hand gripping your bicep lightly.
Yoongi was met with nothing but silence. The look on your face went from confused, to shocked, to utterly terrified. You didn’t break away from his gaze, which was at least something, but you didn’t say anything either. Finally, after what felt like hours, you let out a shaky breath and opened your mouth to speak.
“Yoon,” you started, voice cracking. You knew you were on the verge of tears, but you tried your best to hold them back so you could get out what you needed to say. “I… I don’t know what to say. You’re my best friend, and I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about you that way, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not, ____? We know everything about each other. We’ve been through so much together. What could it hurt?” Yoongi pleaded, his fingers tracing along your arm lightly as he spoke.
“I just don’t want to lose you, Yoon. You’re my best friend. If it didn’t work out… I couldn’t take losing you for good,” you explained. You broke his gaze, unable to deal with looking him directly in the eye anymore. You knew you were hurting him, which was bad enough, but to see the hurt right in front of your face like that? It wasn’t something you could bear.
“____. It would be so easy. You and me, we’re like soulmates, yeah? We’ve always said that, haven’t we? I promise, we could make it work.” With that, you felt his hand run up your arm and shoulder to your face, cupping your cheek in his hand lightly, running his thumb over your skin. You stilled, eyes on him again. Your heart was racing, about to beat out of your chest. You shivered, and you hesitantly brought your hand up to rest on his waist.
“Promise me one thing, Yoon. Promise me our friendship will be okay,” you breathed out. Yoongi nodded, never breaking eye contact with you as he leaned in and softly touched his lips to yours. Your breath caught in your throat as he kissed you, feeling a heat you’d never felt before. His hand moved down to your neck, nudging your head to the side with his nose as he deepened the kiss. His tongue met yours, lazily, but hungrily. It was as though he wanted to devour you through his kiss alone. 
His hand left your neck, moving to your hip and pulling you into him. Your arm wrapped around his back, sliding your hand up to tangle in his hair. He twisted his body to push you onto your back, breaking the kiss to move down to your neck. His lips ghosted over the column of your throat, gentle, heated kisses landing on your neck and collarbone. He reached down to grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He was met with the sight of your beautiful bare torso underneath him, chest heaving as you breathed heavily, eyes locking on his. You did the same to him, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side. He continued his sporadic kissing, moving down to your chest until his lips settled on the bud of your left breast. Looking up at you, he hesitantly took the nipple into his mouth, tongue licking circles around it. A whine escaped your lips, and Yoongi knew then that he could listen to your sounds all night if you let him.
Your hips bucked up into him, and his breathing hitched, feeling your body against his. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pajama bottoms, sliding both layers you had on down your legs until he could pull them off and savor the image of you, completely naked, reacting to his every touch. 
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed out, hands running up your legs until they rested on your thighs. Slowly, he parted your legs, positioning himself between them. He left a few gentle kisses on your lower abdomen, tongue darting out to lick a path from your belly button down to your mound. Taking one more look up at you, and seeing your pupils blown with lust, was all the encouragement he needed as he dragged his wet tongue through your folds, teasing at your entrance before he brought it back up to circle your clit.
“Yoon..” you gasped out, one hand going to your breast, squeezing it and playing with the nipple. It was partially for you because you enjoyed the stimulation, but also for him as well, giving him a show to pay attention to as he devoured you like you were his last meal. 
You let out another loud moan as he pushed two of his fingers into your pussy, his tongue fervently lapping up your slick as he hooked his fingers just right for you to see stars. You bucked your hips against his fingers, wanting every inch of him inside of you.
“That’s it. You’re so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers,” Yoongi told you, using the other hand to push down gently on your lower stomach. The extra sensation, combined with his tongue tracing patterns through your folds, nearly sent you over the edge right then. Your moans grew more desperate, breathing becoming more erratic as he groaned into your pussy, enjoying giving you pleasure as much as you enjoyed getting it. Just then, he took your clit in between his lips, sucking gently, his fingers not stopping their consistent thrusting into you. He watched you as he took you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like no other. Your moans and whines spilled out, saying his name over and over as he used his tongue to help you ride it out. He only stopped when you forcefully pushed his head away from you, unable to take the overstimulation. Your entire body was weak, shaking uncontrollably underneath him. You pulled him by the arm up and over you, kissing him messily, not caring about tasting yourself on his lips.
Still kissing you, refusing to break the connection between the two of you, he reached down and clumsily pushed his sweatpants and boxers down, kicking them off his ankles onto the floor. You watched as his cock sprung free, salivating at the sight of it. Bringing himself up into the space between your thighs again, you couldn’t help yourself as you reached down and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him a few times, watching as his head fell to your shoulder, his breathing coming out in short gasps. With that, you guided him slowly to your entrance, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you at that moment.
“Yoon, please, I need you,” you whined, eyes on him as he pushed just the tip of his cock into you, going slowly to allow you time to adjust to his size. You were so wet that he slid into you with no resistance, his moans tumbling out as he bottomed out, pelvis touching yours. He raised his torso up with his forearms, kissing you as he began to slowly thrust into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to hold them together as you held the back of his neck. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasm that the sweet drag of his cock against your walls had you begging for more sooner than you expected. His thrusts became rougher, sending the sound of skin slapping against skin throughout the room. 
Your second orgasm already building, Yoongi reached down between you and rubbed tiny circles on your clit, pushing into you erratically. He struggled to keep a rhythm as his own release came closer, and his kisses grew sloppy as he continued rubbing his fingers gently on you. The second orgasm wasn’t as strong, but regardless, your body shook as it overpowered you, walls contracting around his cock. The new sensation set off Yoongi’s orgasm soon after. He groaned out loudly as he thrusted into you a few more times, collapsing on top of you as you both came down from your shared high. There was silence aside from your heavy breathing as he pulled out of you and laid next to you, kissing your temple as he wrapped you up in his arms. You huddled into his embrace, face resting against his chest, listening as his heart rate slowly regulated.
“Hey,” Yoongi whispered.
“Yeah?” you whispered back, afraid to move from the warmth of his arms.
“Nothing’s changed. You’re still my best friend, and I’m still in love with you,” he answered, placing a slow kiss to your forehead as he squeezed you tighter.
“I love you too, Yoongi,” you said in response, hugging him back even tighter.
You weren’t sure if this would last, or if it would even work at all, but that was a question to save for another day. Tonight, all you wanted to do was fall asleep in the arms of the man who had been there for you for eight years, the man you’d loved for half of that time. You didn’t have all the answers, but one thing you were sure about? You were so, so glad that you sucked at calculus.
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ugh-yoongi · 1 year
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by the time i've figured out what it's worth | myg
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(or, sometimes you go through hell, and sometimes you make it to the other side.)
✤ PAIRING musician!yoongi x f. reader ✤ SUMMARY you used to find comfort in it—listening to those old songs. the shy sounds of falling in love, the tinkling of a ring in a dish, the inevitable crash and burn. all those songs aren’t so comforting anymore, when you’d do anything to keep him and yoongi’s got one foot out the door. ✤ GENRE est. relationship, marriage au | angst, smut, fluff ✤ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✤ WARNINGS this fic deals with a lot of unhappy topics: mental health, self-worth, divorce, the general demise of a relationship & marriage, counseling & therapy—therefore, there are moments of heavy-ish angst. there are moments where this couple is not all that nice to each other. there are arguments and resolutions. so, it's heavy but they get through it (aka there is a happy ending). american setting, yoongi is a solo artist, everyone pls pray for marriage counselor kim namjoon, seokjin is once again the fic's mvp, swearing, alcohol, recreational drug use (weed/edibles), one quick reference to c*vid, emotional hurt/comfort, miscommunication, two knuckleheads engaging in knucklehead behavior, lots of repetition and space metaphors. this is basically "what would happen if yoongi wrote tiny vessels about his wife: the fic," so do with that what you will. ✤ SMUT WARNINGS oral sex (both receiving), fingering, very slight dom yoongi, dirty talk, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, angst and crying during sex, hands on throat but no choking, fingers in mouth bc it's me. i think that's it. the smut is mostly tame. ✤ WORDCOUNT 20k ✤ LISTEN TO all of transatlanticism by death cab for cutie, especially "tiny vessels." all the lyrics used throughout the fic are from this album, so it'd help contextualize a lot! also "monday morning," "stay young go dancing," and "you are a tourist." ✤ WRITTEN FOR the composition of the century collab. thank you to isi (@raplinesmoon), ryen (@kithtaehyung), and mars (@joheunsaram) for letting me participate. ♡ ✤ THANK YOU to jess (@the-boy-meets-evil) and bee (@hot-soop) for being my betas. this was a labor of love and a big ask, so i appreciate the both of you very much. ✤ AUTHOR'S NOTE hi! thank you for checking out my fic. before you read, i just want to overemphasize that this is a pretty angsty piece at times. a lot of it is very personal, and therefore i understand if it's not your cup of tea! if you do read it, i hope you enjoy it and find something human here. relationships are messy because humans are messy, and sometimes both the easiest and most difficult thing you can ever do is love another person.
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so this is the new year, and i have no resolutions / or self-assigned penance for problems with easy solutions.
There’s a woman on the television trying to sell you a recliner.
Yoongi isn’t paying attention. He’d downed two glasses of whiskey and said he had something to work on, and he’s here, just like you’d asked, but the distance between the two of you feels insurmountable. Your ninth New Year’s Eve together, and all you’ve got to show for it is a crumbling foundation, a pair of headphones shoved over his ears, a woman on the television trying to sell you a recliner. Some home shopping channel, because you couldn’t bear to see anyone else having a good time. Selfish. Fucking selfish, and you wonder if Yoongi would be on your end of the couch if you weren’t.
What does it matter. You’d be here either way, because you’ve made peace with knowing there are things that are built to last and things like what you and Yoongi have: things that make you hesitant, things that make you yearn, things that sit in your stomach all wrong, taste caustic on your tongue.
It’s logical, then, that you just need something to do. A distraction. You push yourself up from the couch with a sigh, joints cracking, and you feel old. Exhausted, more like; something bone-deep and not easily cured. You pass through the dining room on the way to the kitchen, and all those wedding photos taunt you. Happier times, the two of you smiling into a kiss, Yoongi’s hands on your waist, fingers tangled in chiffon.
You wonder which one of you will stay here after it all goes to shit.
Him, if you were a betting man.
You scrub at the dishes in the sink until your hands are nearly cracked from the scalding water. Yellow gloves sit unused on the counter—sometimes you want the burn because pain is familiar, and a physical pain is easier to solve than your failing marriage. So you scrub away the remnants of a dinner that found you and Yoongi eating in silence. Nothing to say to one another after another year gone by. Not much to look back on fondly. And then you scrub some more, like you could get rid of all the scabs inside of you just as easily.
Some things circle the drain and wash away. Others stain.
You already know which one Yoongi is.
From the living room, the muted sounds of a countdown. Palpable excitement you should be able to feel, but find only numbness instead. Yoongi must have changed the channel. There’s a supercut playing in your head, all the past celebrations. All the parties the two of you have gone to, the years spent alone but together. All the people you’ve kissed in front of. All the quiet, private ways Yoongi used to tell you he loved you. When was the last time? What does it matter. There’s seven seconds until the new year and Yoongi hasn’t come looking for you, so what does it fucking matter.
Fireworks explode outside. A sob wracks your body as you crumble to the floor. There’s a small puddle of dishwater that seeps into the hemline of your shirt. Yoongi hasn’t come looking for you and he can’t hear you, so there’s no one to witness your breakdown but the fucking dishes in the sink. Yoongi had chosen the countertops.
You’re going to miss this place when it’s no longer your home.
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instincts are misleading / you shouldn't think what you're feeling / they don't tell you what you know you should want.
Kim Namjoon wouldn’t have been your first choice, if you’d had the luxury of choice.
You like him enough, though. Wicked smart, patient to a fault, pragmatic when it’s required. There’s not much more you could ask for in a marriage counselor besides not needing one at all, but that hadn’t been in the cards. The first time you and Yoongi had met him, you’d cracked a joke that hadn’t landed. The embarrassment of it still stings, made worse by the discomfort of the couch in his office.
“How are things?” he asks. He always dresses impeccably. Today he’s in a sage green sweater and tan trousers that must’ve cost a fortune to get tailored. Even his notebook is genuine leather; sometimes it squeaks when he jots down notes too fast, friction against the fabric of his clothing.
Yoongi is quiet. If you’re embarrassed over a joke, he’s embarrassed over everything else. At least you’re willing to work on things. Getting Yoongi to do anything these days is akin to pulling teeth, and you’ve got a mouth full of blood. “Fine,” Yoongi answers, eyes locked downward. Namjoon’s office has hardwood floors. Tigerwood, he’d said once. Yoongi had complimented them. That had stung, too.
Wicked smart. Namjoon turns to you, glasses slipping a little down his nose. “Would you agree with that?”
You wouldn’t, but the urge to make this easy on Yoongi is hard to fight off. Everything is hard. It’d taken him twenty minutes past midnight to come find you in the kitchen all those weeks ago, chest still heaving, eyes swollen. He’d been distraught, tried to kiss your tears away, apologized over and over like they were the only words he knew. Things aren’t fine, but at least you’ve been willing to fight, and the cost of that persistence feels like the weight of the world.
“No,” you admit, and Namjoon just nods. Writes something down. You don’t have the courage to look at Yoongi. Sometimes it’s easier to let go of a dying thing.
“Okay. How were the holidays?”
It’s hard to breathe around the lump in your throat. All you want to do is hold Yoongi’s hand, scream at him, shake him and ask why he’s doing this to you. Why he’s giving up. Why you aren’t worth more effort—not worth it anymore, when you used to be. If he doesn’t love you anymore you’ve already said you’ll go, and he begs you not to, says he’ll do better, he’s sorry, please don’t.
“They were hard,” you answer, and Yoongi nods his agreement in your peripheral. “We didn’t exchange gifts this year. First time ever.”
“And why is that?”
Yoongi stays quiet. Like pulling teeth, you think, and there’s a flashbang of anger, resentment. Sometimes you want to hurt him. Sometimes you want to make him feel as awful as you do, want him to suffer, want him to atone. It isn’t fair, the things you think, and all you want to do is love your husband without guilt, without wondering if there’s someone out there who’d appreciate it more. Still, you’ve got a nasty streak, and you can’t help but press on the bruise. “Because I knew I’d be the only one.”
“Can you expand on that?”
You shrug. Pick at invisible dirt beneath your nails. “Yoongi said he’d be busy this year. I know what that means.”
“That’s not—” Yoongi sighs, cuts himself off. Runs his hands over his face, sick of this same argument. “Baby, that isn’t fair. I asked you if you wanted to do gifts this year and you said no.”
The laugh that bubbles out of you is derisive, cruel. You’re sick of the same arguments, too. Sick of feeling stuck, some helpless animal in a glue trap. Sick of this office, with Namjoon’s priceless art that doesn’t mean a fucking thing to you; the tigerwood floors that got nicer words out of Yoongi than you have in months; the low thrum of the baseboard heat. Sick of asking Yoongi what you can do, what you can change to make this work, and getting nothing besides a self-deprecating sigh.
Yoongi loves you. Doesn’t want to hurt you. Doesn’t want you to put those kinds of burdens on your shoulders, but taking on all that water himself does nothing but make the both of you sink.
He’ll write about it, though. That’s the thing. Yoongi will write about it, and it used to bring you comfort—listening to those old songs, an aural timeline of your and Yoongi’s relationship. The shy sounds of falling in love, the tinkling of a ring in a dish, the inevitable crash and burn. All those songs aren’t so comforting anymore, when you’d do anything to keep him and Yoongi’s got one foot out the door.
“Because I listened to the song,” you say, and it should feel relieving, should alleviate some of that weight you’ve been carrying around. Instead, you just feel guilty, confessing to some cardinal sin. Yoongi goes stock-still, doesn’t dare to breathe, spine straighter than it’s been in years, and all you feel is guilt.
Namjoon quirks an eyebrow. “The song?”
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this is the moment that you know that you told her that you loved her, but you don't / you touch her skin and then you think that she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
“It wasn’t meant to be about you,” Yoongi says, and his words are pleading, like if he uses the right inflections he can get you to understand. “It was just—shit, I don’t know, I just. I was just writing. I needed to do something with the way I was feeling.” His words take on more panic the longer you’re quiet, and by the end there’s a dazed look in his eyes. They’re taking on water, too. “Baby, please. Did you really think—”
This isn’t the kind of argument meant for an audience, and you’d said as much in therapy. Told Namjoon you’d like to discuss it with Yoongi in private and maybe you could all hash it out during your next session, because you knew this would happen. Knew you’d break down, knew you’d be embarrassed. How do you say your husband wrote a song about not loving you anymore and make it out still feeling whole? How do you swallow all that anger and remember all that bullshit Namjoon had taught you about how to communicate? Your stupid fucking “I” statements.
“Silver Lake?” you retort, resentment burning in your veins. “That wasn’t supposed to be about me? What, are you fucking someone else out there?”
Your husband looks like you’ve slapped him, and sometimes you want to. Sometimes you want to opt out of this life—where they’re just words to Yoongi, but a little too biographical to you. Because you’re not the only one who listens. Yoongi writes these songs and people listen to them and they think, isn’t he married. They think, did he really write a song like this about his wife. They think, that’s a little fucked up. Because they’re just words to Yoongi, and the rest of the world doesn’t know. They’re not in on the joke, and neither are you.
There are few words you can use to explain your hurt. How you’ve sat with that song these past few weeks, scouring each line for something to tell you it hurts now, but it’s going to be okay. Always coming up empty. Those lines you’ve fixated on, refused to let go of—
So when you ask, "Is something wrong?" I think, "You're damn right there is, but we can't talk about it now.”
—because that’s how it is, how it goes.
“This is my fucking life, Yoongi.” There’s only heat where there used to be patience. “You write these songs and you don’t spare a single thought for how they might affect me. You write these songs instead of talking to me, and I’m supposed to know how to fix everything, right? Aren’t I? You can’t even tell me how to fix this fucking marriage, but you’ll write a song about how I don’t mean a goddamn thing to you.”
There are tears rolling down your face. You hadn’t realized you started crying, but everything feels wet, feels wrong. Feels like you’re occupying a body that isn’t yours. You’re having this argument in someone else’s bedroom. You’re watching someone else’s marriage fall apart. Someone else’s life. “Either help me fix this and put in the work or let me go.” Everything boils over eventually. There’s only so much you can stave off before the inevitable, and now it’s come for you. “Please.” You choke on a sob. “Yoongi, please, I’m so tired.”
And Yoongi—Yoongi’s got a lot of nervous habits. Little things he does when the anxiety gets to be too much, and there’s one you share, one of those couple things where you pick up one another’s mannerisms, ways of speaking, specific inflections. Yoongi fidgets with his wedding band, pushes it up to that knobby fourth knuckle with his thumb, twirls it around.
Usually, when he pushes it far enough, there’s a strip of even paler skin. A place the sun hasn’t touched; a place that bears proof that Yoongi is yours. Yoongi pushes his wedding band with his thumb and that strip of skin matches the rest, and it strikes someplace deep that’s irrational and unfair. Because it makes sense that there isn’t a discrepancy, that everything is uniform. It makes sense, but everything is so fragile that the thought comes unbidden. Maybe there’s no discrepancy because Yoongi isn’t wearing it. Maybe there’s no discrepancy because Yoongi has let go without letting go, and there’s nothing to salvage, no point in begging, in putting the gun in his hand and forcing him to make the decision. It all tastes sour, tastes like your tongue has crumbled to ash, but—
“I’m not letting you go,” Yoongi responds, words just as waterlogged as yours. “I can’t. I won’t.”
“But you want to,” you say, and it sounds like a conclusion but you mean it like a question. A plea. Perhaps that’s the crux of it: you just can’t say what you mean. Sometimes Yoongi’s honesty feels like a brand, a permanent reminder of everything he’s ever felt that you’re forced to carry, but at least there’s honor in that. At least Yoongi doesn’t talk in fucking riddles.
He shakes his head. “No.” At least there’s conviction in his words. “No, I don’t. This is just—it’s hard right now, okay. It’s hard and it fucking sucks, and I don’t know why, but I’m not—” He sucks in a breath. Sometimes Yoongi can’t say what he means, either.
“Just say it, Yoongi.” So, you prod. Sometimes you find the most mottled bruise on his body and you press on it, because when you love someone the way you love Yoongi, you also know all the ways to hurt them. Sometimes you hurt Yoongi when you mean to hurt yourself because it feels the same.
“What do you want me to say,” he answers, defeated and raw. “Tell me what you want me to say, because if I didn’t know better, it’d sound like you wanted me to leave. It sounds like you want that but you want me to be the bad guy. You want me to pull the trigger.”
You don’t. You know that for certain, just by the way it feels excruciating to merely think about. What would your life even look like without Yoongi? What would it be? But you’re still that caged animal. Still resentful of Yoongi’s composure, because you can fall apart at a moment’s notice and Yoongi is always calm, prepared; always the last building standing in a hurricane.
“I don’t want that,” you say, borrowing a bit of your husband’s honesty, his fortitude, “but I need you to know that’s where we’re at. I need you to be able to say it, instead of treating it like it’s some impossible thing—“
“It is,” Yoongi argues, brows pinched, lips pouted. “Baby, what are you saying? It is. Why wouldn’t it be? That’s what you want?”
“You don’t write songs like you did about someone you’re not planning on leaving, Yoongi. I don’t know how you don’t understand that. I don’t—how can you think it’s impossible? You think I’ve just been doing all of this for fun? The therapy, the crying? You think I haven’t already—” Mourned the end of my marriage, you want to say, but you can’t. You need to be realistic. You need to say what you mean, and even if it’s true—even if you’ve mentally divided up everything in this house, thehouse itself—it doesn’t do you any good to create new wounds when both of you are already beaten and battered.
“You’re my fucking wife,” comes Yoongi’s response, and the way he says it feels dirty. Yoongi calls you his wife the way lesser men would use a slur, and sometimes Yoongi is composed but sometimes he’s angry. Sometimes he’s so angry the world becomes too small to contain him. “I’m not gonna—you’ve already what? Given up? Checked out? It’s not fair, this thing you do. Decide how things are gonna play out before they even happen. It’s fucking bullshit. You’re my fucking wife, and the least you could do is give me a little credit—”
“Oh, that’s rich.”
Yoongi’s pupils blow wide. Sometimes you think they’re the darkest thing in the universe. Vantablack. “Yeah, it is. It is fucking rich.”
“At least I’m trying! At least I’m doing something, not just writing little fucking songs about how much I don’t care about you.”
Yoongi slams the door behind him.
For the first time, you wonder if he’s coming back.
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i am waiting for that sense of relief / i am waiting for you to flee the scene / as if you held in your hand the smoking gun / and on the floor lay the one you said you loved.
You feel him before you hear him, and he doesn’t wake you up.
It’s dark. Probably sometime between one and two, judging by the pillar of moonlight creeping in through the curtains. Yoongi is quiet as he moves around the bedroom, still so considerate even now, and you just watch. Jeans removed one leg at a time, hung neatly in the closet; socks removed one by one, into the hamper; flannel unbuttoned with calloused fingers, dropped on the floor. He’ll pick it up tomorrow, just like he always does. Down to just a t-shirt, neckline loose and stretched from overwear, and black briefs.
Moonlight suits him, you think. (You’ve always thought.) Casts silver shadows on his skin, fills in the contours, lends credence to the thought that Yoongi is something ethereal, someone wasting his time on earth.
He’s down to a t-shirt and briefs, and he hesitates. Takes a step toward the bed and thinks better of it. Doesn’t know what to do in this liminal space, in this liminal period of time. There’s only two ways to go, and Yoongi will either leave or he’ll stay, and right now he doesn’t know which one it’s going to be.
“Yoongi,” you say, and you try to make the decision for him. “You’re home?”
You see him swallow, watch his shoulders slump. “Yeah,” he says, and it’s quiet like the nighttime. You’re in the middle of the city and this moment is so quiet. “I’m—did I wake you? I’m sorry, I just—”
“No,” you answer. You don’t want to fight. “You’re fine. Do you—are you coming to bed?”
He nods. Seems to fold in on himself just a little more. “Yeah. Yeah, just have to brush my teeth.”
There’s the padding of feet on hardwood. Something that sounds like a stubbed toe. A loud curse. The flick of the bathroom light, the faucet, spit. The padding of feet on hardwood, then the bedroom rug. The depression of the mattress, his phone plugged in and discarded carelessly on his nightstand. An exhale, like he’s finally home after a long day.
Does Yoongi still consider you his home?
“I’m sorry,” you say. Still quiet, just like the nighttime. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
You hear Yoongi swallow again. Smell just the faintest hint of alcohol. “No one’s fighting, baby,” he answers. Woven into his words is a softness you don’t deserve. “We can talk about it in the morning.”
“Can we talk about it now?”
Yoongi suits the moonlight, but so do you. It makes you brave. Sometimes things are easier to say in these in-between spaces: love and heartbreak, midnight and morning. Sometimes the sun is too reflective, and sometimes it burns.
“Do you want to?” You nod, even though instinct tells you to shirk away and take it back. A small piece of honesty to work yourself up to something bigger, more consequential. “Okay.”
Sometimes you get what you want and aren’t sure what to do with it, so you roll onto your side, the one facing your husband, and suck in a breath. Hold it. Count to five. Let it go. Yoongi reserves all his patience for you, always. “I’m really scared, Yoongi.”
His sigh is fractured, watery. “Me too,” he admits. “There’s a lot I want to say and I just—I don’t know how. Which makes it worse, I know, and then I don’t know how to fix it.”
Is that why… “The song?”
Yoongi nods. “I needed to get it out. Like, some call of the void shit, you know? Put those big fears into words in a way that—it doesn’t make sense, looking back, because I thought it was just an outlet. Just, write this hypothetical song about the collapse of our relationship because it fucking terrified me and then let it go. Like how sometimes Namjoon tells us to write letters to each other and burn them.” He fists the duvet. Moonlight gleams off his wedding band. “I’m sorry. I need you to know it wasn’t real… like that.”
“Okay.”
“I—you were right. About the other thing. About me not being able to say it.”
“Can you now?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “I don’t think I can. Makes it real.”
“You also can’t stand in a burning house and pretend it’s not on fire.”
That gets a laugh out of him. Sardonic, a little self-deprecating, but it’s there. “Is that where you’re at? With me.” He makes a sound that’s a lot like a whimper. “Divorce.”
“I don’t want to be,” you answer. Another small truth leading up to a bigger one. “I’m trying not to be.”
“But you are.”
Shakily, you nod. “Yeah, I am. Things just aren’t… they’re not working, even though I’m trying, and I just.” Yoongi’s hand finds yours. It’s sweat-slick and cold. “Sometimes I think it’d be the kind thing to do. Put us both out of our misery.”
“Relationship euthanasia.”
“Yeah, kind of. It’s funny, you know. My vet always used to say you’d know it’s time when there’s more bad days than good, so I guess that really is the best way to put it.”
“What would that even look like?”
You want to say you don’t know. That you haven’t thought about it. Is this the call of the void again or is this for real? But the twilight makes you honest, so you tell the truth. “I would leave,” you say. “I wouldn’t be able to stay here, and I couldn’t ask you to go. It’s always been more your space than mine.”
Yoongi hums an agreement. Not cruel, it just makes sense. “I’m not tied to this place,” you continue. “This city. This state. I’m not sure I’d be able to stay, knowing you’re still here in a house that used to be ours without me in it. But sometimes I’m scared I wouldn’t be able to leave, either.”
“You could,” Yoongi answers. When you look up, he’s crying. Cheeks streaked with tears, eyes swollen. “You can do anything, you know? You’re so much stronger than me. You could do the hard thing and be okay. It’s part of the reason I’ve been so scared to have this conversation. You might leave, and you’d be okay, and I wouldn’t.”
“Yoongi...”
“I know you’re tired,” he says, voice laying his own exhaustion bare, “but I want you to be happy. So I will—I’ll let you go, if it’s what you want.” He’s crying harder now, staccato sobs wracking his body, making him smaller. “I don’t want to,” he whispers. “I don’t think I can, but I will. For you. If it’s what you need. If it’ll make you happy.”
You can’t stand it. “Yoongi, no.” You’re on your haunches, wiping furiously at his cheeks, thumbing beneath his eyes. “Being apart from you would never make me happy.”
You’re in his lap. He’s still too anxious to reach out and touch, maybe still a little scorned, and his hands lay at his sides. Twist into the duvet again. You want them on you. You always want Yoongi on you. “Tell me how to fix this,” he begs. “Tell me and I’ll do it, I promise, baby, please just tell me. I can’t—I don’t want to—”
“Yoongi.” He looks up, meets your eye. Moonlight suits him. “Something has to change, and you know that as well as I do. We can’t keep going like this, but just—just meet me in the middle, okay? Help me. Let’s start there.”
“Okay,” comes his automatic response. He’d agree to anything right now. Take any lifeline. And then the words sink in, and the sobs taper off but he’s still got the shakes, so you hold him. Wrap him in your arms and just let him breathe. “Okay,” he repeats. Measured. Considered.
Still standing, even after a hurricane.
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i need you so much closer, so come on.
Morning comes, and with it—tenderness.
Also the mug of coffee on your nightstand, Yoongi’s hand splayed on the swell of your hip, the warmth that seeps into your skin. He’s typing away on his phone with the other, and he abandons it to pull you closer when you stir.
“Morning,” you murmur. Yoongi’s reply rumbles against your back.
“S’the afternoon, baby.”
Your laugh is abrupt, soft. Dissipates into the air as quickly as it’d arrived. “Okay. Good afternoon, then.”
Yoongi shuffles closer, adjusts so he’s pressed fully against your back. The hand that was on your hip moves beneath the hemline of your shirt. Explores the soft skin of your stomach, thumbs at the valleys between each rib. Yoongi’s touch is always laced with soft confidence; now, he still knows the way, still has the map memorized, but he’s reluctant.
You place your hand over his, move it higher. His thumb grazes the bottom swell of your breast and he sighs, presses impossibly closer still. “I love you,” he says quietly, like a secret. “Want you to know that.”
“I do,” you answer. He sighs again at your affirmation—more of an exhale, all relief—and drops his head to the crook of your neck. Presses a kiss there. The heat of him is almost disorienting, especially after being deprived of it for so long. “Haven’t been this close to you in months.”
He nips at your ear with his teeth. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says, and something stirs low in your belly. “Take a shower with me. I still smell like the bar.”
You snort. “Very sexy. Top tier dirty talk.”
He presses another kiss beneath your ear. “Please?”
“Let me drink some coffee first. I’m barely awake.” When you roll onto your side, Yoongi looks small, on the verge of dejection. Soft. You can’t help but smile. Can’t help but reach out to smooth the furrow between his brows, kiss away his pout. “I’ll be there, I promise. Give me five minutes.”
He wants to push it, you can tell, but he just says okay, baby. Presses one final kiss to your forehead before he’s gone, before the sound of bare feet on hardwood returns, before you hear the shower turn on, Yoongi’s low hum as he patters around and talks to himself.
You sit up and take stock. Your eyes are sore, head feels like it’s been split in two, but your heart feels… lighter. Scabbed over. Another battle fought and won, and even though the war isn’t over, you feel cautiously optimistic. Better than you have in a while, and you’re smiling when you press the coffee mug to your lips. Still warm, so Yoongi hasn’t been awake much longer than you. You wonder how many cups he’s already had, if he drank them black.
Half your cup is gone before Yoongi starts yelling from the en suite, complaining loudly that he’s cold and lonely, to hurry up. That he’s going to use all the hot water out of spite, but what if it gets too hot, what if he perishes in here and you have to live the rest of your life overcome with guilt. If it’s too hot, wouldn’t I perish too? you call back. Yoongi’s responding silence is so loud, but you fill it with a wild cackle.
“I’m gonna use all the nice shampoo!” he yells, but you’re already in the bathroom.
“And you’re gonna pay to replace it,” you retort, and he’s so caught off-guard that you’re there that he screams, drops a bottle on his foot, screams again. Up and off goes your t-shirt—Yoongi’s; smells like him and not a bar—and then you’re peeling off your underwear, tossing everything in the hamper. Into the shower. You reach out and touch Yoongi just so he knows you’re there even though he already does, but you press a kiss between his shoulder blades all the same. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he grumbles, all embarrassment.
Yoongi had insisted on a large shower. Something big enough for the both of you to fit in, and he’d blushed furiously when talking about it, but it was never anything sexual. You’d tried shower sex once, back in that shitty Silver Lake apartment, and never bothered again. But Yoongi craved the intimacy of showering together, the vulnerability, and over time you found it almost lonesome to shower by yourself.
So when he says, “Come here,” there’s enough space to maneuver beneath the spray, warm and not perishable-hot, and stand beside him. Enough space for Yoongi to rake his hands through your hair, get the strands wet; enough space to reach back for the nice shampoo he didn’t use all of; enough space for him to lather it in his hands and massage it into your scalp. A practiced song and dance. Something Yoongi could never forget the steps of.
Rinsed out, down the drain. Yoongi works in the conditioner next, brushes it through with his fingers, presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I was talking to Jin,” he says, and your mind is blank for a second. Then—when you woke up and he was on his phone. “About the cabin.”
“The one in Oakhurst?”
Yoongi nods. Turns you around so your back is to the spray, facing him. Lets the water rinse the conditioner away, too, before he’s placing a hand beneath your chin, tilting your face up. “Would you wanna go? Just us?”
“How long?”
A thumb settles in the contour of your cheek. Third finger traces the bridge of your nose. “However long you want. I—I don’t have anything, for a while. Could you work from there?”
You nod, a little delirious on how gentle Yoongi’s being with you. “Ye-yeah. Should be fine.”
You suck in a breath, shuddering as Yoongi brushes your rib cage when he reaches for the loofah. “D’you—” A pause. Time for you to swallow that familiar lump in your throat, keep from crying. “D’you think it’ll help?”
He pauses. Nods, so minutely you almost miss it. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I want to try.”
“Me too.”
“Okay.” Presses his lips to yours. “However long you want, then.”
After he’s scrubbed the scars from your skin, the sadness, he wraps you in a warm towel. Stands behind you and wraps his arms around you as you both brush your teeth. Presses a kiss to your temple. Watches, so fond it makes you ache, as you dry your hair. Cracks little jokes about each product you use, says surely you don’t need all that, and you swat at him because you do. Because he uses just as many as you do, and sometimes uses yours. Tenderly takes the lotion from your hands and rubs it into your skin. His hands are firm when they run over your calves, your thighs, and your moan is quiet but it’s there, and you watch, mouth open, as Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut. As he takes a second to collect himself, breathe through it.
He just hasn’t heard that sound in a while, is all.
“Can I make it up to you now?” The words are spoken into your skin, pressed into the ditch of your knee, all warm breath skirting along your skin. “Show you how much I missed you? How much I love you?”
Goosebumps erupt all over. Dazed, you nod, and instead of words, you can feel the way Yoongi smirks. “Gonna take my time with you,” he promises. “Gonna take you apart. Would you like that, baby? Want me to take you apart?”
You meet your own eyes in the mirror, quick to forget where you are when Yoongi’s like this. You already look picked apart. Glassy eyes, mouth parted. The towel slips in your slackened grip and you dare another glance in the mirror, already knowing you’ll find Yoongi’s hungry gaze staring back, at full height.
“Look at you,” he chides, tone husky, and it’s not a shock that your husband wants you, that you’re both desirable and desired, but Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. Stable. Seeing him so affected from so little has you lightheaded, has your thighs clamping together unconsciously. “No.” Words firm. “Don’t hide from me.”
You reach back, still staring into the mirror, eyes still locked with Yoongi’s. Your hands tangle in his hair. Dark, longer than it’s been in so long, soft when you pull on it a little. Yoongi groans, buries his face in your neck, nips at the skin there. Through half-lidded eyes you watch as his hands roam your body. Feel the way he grows hard against the small of your back. Briefly, you think you might want it like this. Might want Yoongi to hike up the towel, bend you over the counter.
(Impersonal, because that’s what you’ve grown used to.)
But your hand finds his, slow their travel, lace your fingers together. “Not here.” He bites at your skin again and your whole body flushes when he begins to suck a bruise into your neck. “Yoo—Yoongi. No-not here.”
The bites slowly melt into something taunting, almost cruel. “You sound a little needy, baby.”
“I am.” You’re not embarrassed to admit it. It’s been so long you’re nearly aching with want, and you know Yoongi, know the kind of lover he is. The want is so strong you’re trembling with it. “Yoongi, please.”
Your words are hushed, meant only for the sanctity of this moment. Yoongi looks up long enough to catch your eye—long enough for the corners of his lips to pull into a smirk, to squeeze your hand tighter. “You don’t want it like this?” he asks, even though he knows your answer. But he still makes a show of it. Uses his free hand to grip the edge of your towel, drag it up and over your ass. Pauses to knead the flesh there before planting his hand in the center of your back and bending you over the counter. “Bet I could take you just like this, couldn’t I? Bet I’d just slide right in.”
The whine that escapes you is honestly pathetic, but you’re already so wound up, coiled tight, that you’re long past the point of caring. And you wonder, briefly, why you should care at all; why you care about the sounds you make, the way your body looks, when it’s Yoongi. When it’s your husband and not some random hookup. It’s that thought—this is my husband, my husband, my husband—that has your toes curling against the cold tile. It’s seeing the glint of his wedding band in the mirror.
“Do it here.” Your voice betrays your desperation. “Just—fuck, Yoongi, do it here, I don’t care.”
It’s maddening, the fact that he hasn’t even touched you yet. Not properly. But that’s the thing about space: sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it’s a dying star, a supernova explosion, and you know what comes after. A black hole. Endless, inescapable, dark dark dark. That’s where the two of you are. That’s what all of this is, just a perpetual pull towards Yoongi, fated. Perhaps nothing more than gravity, but you let it reel you in nonetheless.
If the two of you are fated to go out the same way, the same dying star, you’ll go willingly.
“I’ll give it to you how you wan’ it,” Yoongi slurs. Leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses across your neck. “Get on the bed, baby, I’ll give you whatever you want.”
He’s on you before you even have a chance to drop the towel. Drapes his body over yours and presses you into the mattress, wraps one hand around your throat just to keep you there. Like you might leave. Like you might decide you don’t want this, don’t want him. As if you could. “Tell me what else you want,” he says, words unstable and wavering. He’s so fucking hard.
“Your mouth.”
He cock twitches at your words, your direction, and he smiles down at you in a way that makes you feel like you’re burning. “Yeah? That’s what you want?” A switch flips when you nod, chest heaving. Yoongi gets so serious, laser-focused, and it’s overwhelming when it’s pointed at you. You reach out, trace two fingers over his cheekbones just to make sure he’s real, and Yoongi captures them, presses a kiss to the center of your palm.
He’s not so gentle after that.
Yoongi moves slowly, intentionally, and you feel like prey, all part of the show. He trails his tongue down the column of your throat, the space between your breasts, your stomach. Spreads your legs and settles between them, places them over his shoulders. Stares. You can only imagine what you must look like: how wet, how open. His breath is so warm against you when he speaks. “You have to come on my tongue before you can have my cock.” He presses his thumb against your clit and circles slowly, and you can’t remember the last time he touched you like this. “Do you understand, baby?” A few months at least, maybe longer.
You nod. You’d agree to anything to feel Yoongi’s mouth on you, and he knows this, laughs before he leans in to lick a fat stripe against your slit. It’s instinct, the way your hands fly to his hair, trying to pull him closer. Having him here isn’t enough; you need to be consumed by him, need him to ruin you from the inside out, even though he already has. It’s also instinct, the way you know you belong to him, the way everyone who might come after him will pale in comparison.
As diligently as ever, Yoongi works you over. Eats you out so sloppily you can feel it pooling between your legs, seeping into the sheets below you, and the way he’s moaning around you makes you writhe. Has you gripping at the duvet, his hair, his hand. Has you rolling your hips against his face, groaning when Yoongi just takes it. When he says like that, yeah, so fucking hot, baby, love when you use me. When he reaches up to shove two fingers in your mouth and gives you no warning before he presses them inside.
“Fuck, fuck—”
Embarrassing, the way you can hear yourself, the way you can hear every wet pass of Yoongi’s tongue. Embarrassing that he’s only had his mouth on you for a few minutes and you’re already teetering on the edge. Embarrassing how hard Yoongi has to grip your hips to keep you where he wants you. Embarrassing that you welcome the bruises, want to be marked by him. “Are you close?” You think you nod. It’s hard to do much of anything when Yoongi crooks his fingers, presses firmly against your g-spot. “Is my beautiful girl gonna come from my fucking fingers? My mouth?”
(You are beautiful, but you don’t mean a thing to me.)
You try not to go there. You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to think about the words in that song, try to remember that’s all they are. If Yoongi had meant to hurt you, though, he’d hit his mark. Just words, you remind yourself, but they take you out of your body completely.
And it’s a funny thing, this almost-grief, because you’re hurting so badly it feels like you’re drowning, but with the pain comes guilt. What do you do when the person who cut you is the only one who can bandage it? What do you do with this pain when you want to talk it to death, make sense of it, but you don’t want to make Yoongi feel worse?
You hide—hide the pain, hide yourself.
You’ve gotten good at it over the last few months, too much practice, so you let Yoongi suction his lips around your clit and get you off just the way he said he would. You let him kiss you after, taste yourself on his tongue, and you think, This is what you deserve, I hope you taste like me forever, I hope it never washes away. You tug your lip between your teeth when you push him away and reach for his cock. Spit into your hand and say something dirty as you jerk him off, and Yoongi falls for it. Moans brokenly and thrusts into your hand, gets greedy just the way you had before reality humbled you.
“Ba-baby,” he whines, rutting a little harder, a little faster. Everyone gets selfish eventually. “Gotta fuck you.”
It should feel satisfying, seeing him desperate like this, seeing firsthand how badly he wants you, the fucked-out look on his face, but it all rings hollow. So you finish the show—push two fingers into yourself and coat Yoongi’s cock once more with your own slick—and roll over onto your stomach, arch your back the way you know he likes, and beg him to fuck you.
Yoongi falls for it. Yoongi pushes inside and groans, and you moan because you should and not because it’ll cover the sound of your sobs. Yoongi rolls his hips and lets whatever he thinks come out of his mouth, all filth, and it should do something for you but instead you’re wondering what he’d say to someone else. Would he fuck someone else like this? Would he be as desperate for it?
Eventually you forget to keep moaning but you don’t stop crying. You wonder if it should feel cathartic or if it’ll just feel like this forever. You think about New Year’s Eve and crying alone in the kitchen, how Yoongi hadn’t known. You think, I’m scared I could eventually hate him. I’m scared that line gets blurrier everyday.
“Baby?” Yoongi realizes this time.
You think, Another dying star.
“Did I hurt you?”
You think, Maybe I’ve already burned up. Maybe this is all that’s left.
“Baby, talk to me, please—”
You think, How many holes can you patch before it all sinks anyway?
“I’m sorry—”
You think, I’m scared of how much I want to hurt you. I’m scared I’m going to be angry forever.
Yoongi turns you gently onto your back. Takes a long, hard look at the tears rolling down your cheeks. Seems to commit them to memory. Starts crying, too, and it’s nothing more than vindication that doesn’t feel satisfying. Everything just tastes like ash: remnants of the supernova, the crash and burn, a thousand cuts.
Yoongi loves you. “Keep going,” you say, because you both need it. Not every problem can be fucked through, but you think this one can. “Please, keep going.”
Yoongi hesitates. Must find whatever he’s looking for as he stares down at you before he nods minutely and pushes back in. This is not the way you thought you’d heal, but there is only one way this is going to end, so you might as well. The first time was always going to be the hardest.
“I love you,” Yoongi says, and it’s raw. It’s real, the way he drops his head to the crook of your neck and cries. The way he finds your hand and laces your fingers together. His wedding band is cool against your skin. “I fucking love you. I’ll love you for the rest of my fucking life, you know that?”
He’s got something to prove. Wants to fuck devotion into you, wants to promise you impossible things. You wrap your legs around his waist and whimper, ask him to fuck you harder, but he doesn’t. Fucks you steady. “We’re gonna go to that cabin,” he rasps. “We’re gonna figure this out, and we’re gonna do all those things we talked about years ago. I’m gonna fuck you in every room in that place, just like this. I’m gonna make sure you know—even if you leave, you’re gonna know how much I love you.”
He’s going to be the end of you. “Yoongi.” He already is.
He moves your hand to your clit, tells you to make yourself come. Tells you he wants to see it. Fucks into you just a little faster, a little deeper, and you can feel the coil tightening again. Another supernova, you think as your body surrenders and shudders, and buries himself to the hilt and comes with you.
Sometimes space is a dying star, and sometimes it’s salvation.
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and when i see you, i really see you upside down / but my brain knows better. it picks you up and turns you around.
There had been a time, years ago, when you and Yoongi would sit at your cramped kitchen table and pluck scraps of paper out of a bowl.
A lot had been left to chance back then. Probably too much, in hindsight, but that’s just the way life was. Carefree, a summer breeze, blissfully naive. The two of you were young and love-drunk and warm from the sun. Yoongi had worked endlessly—gigs for shit pay in shittier bars, overnights in his studio, fingers calloused from guitar strings and networking—to put a ring on your finger, nothing certain except how he felt about you, and that had been enough.
It’d gone like—
(“What’d you write on that one?” you ask, trying to peek over the bowl between you to see. Yoongi laughs, swats your hand away, says oh my god, go away, you’ll see if you pick it. “You’re no fun.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m no fun because I don’t want to spoil a surprise.”
“But you know what’s on all of mine!” you argue, and you feel more in love with Yoongi than ever, picking a place out of a bowl, leaving things to fate.
It’s your pout that does it. You jut out your bottom lip and turn on the puppy dog eyes, and Yoongi folds like a bad hand. Yah, yah, don’t do that! he says, laughing harder than before, covering his eyes with those calloused hands. There are so many stories in those hands.
So Yoongi laughs and unfolds his scrap of paper and pushes it in your direction. Refuses to meet your eye as you read it over, and you can’t figure out why he’s embarrassed of it. “Jin’s cabin? It’s up in Oakhurst, right? That’s only a five hour drive.”
“For a honeymoon, though?” Yoongi’s question is quiet, small. Still embarrassed. “Isn’t it kind of lame?”
“No, it’s not lame. You’ve wanted to go to Yosemite forever.”
“Yeah, I’ve wanted to go. And it’s mostly just for Horsetail Fall—”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing dramatically. “Yoongi. Put it in the bowl.”
“But—”
“Put it in the bowl.”
A flush creeps up his neck but he listens nonetheless, re-crumpling the paper and tossing it into the bowl. You’ll be picking soon, and you know the odds are slim, but you put a silent hope into the universe for Jin’s little cabin in Oakhurst to be the one, to be able to do this one thing for Yoongi when he’s been working himself to the bone to do so much for you.)
—and it hadn’t worked out, that cabin trip. The two of you had gone to Italy, Yoongi having been the one to pull it, and you rented scooters and ate gelato and soaked in the coastline. You’d dragged Yoongi on a tour of the catacombs and he spent hours at the Roman Forum, reading all the plaques and taking it all in.
You hadn’t felt like you’d missed out. Time hadn’t been wasted, and you still look back fondly at those pictures—the one of Yoongi with powdered sugar on his nose from too much sfogliatella, the two of you at Lake Como, you with all the stray cats at the Gatti di Roma, one in your lap, all gray, that you said had looked like Yoongi.
But, going to that little cabin in Oakhurst now, it feels a little like redemption. It feels like the universe is handing you the keys on a silver platter, saying, it’s okay to do it again; even if you got it right the first time, who says you can only do it once. So you take a day off for the drive and your boss gives you the week; you pack as many clothes as you can fit in your suitcase; you set an alarm for seven o’clock and try to stay grounded.
First, though, you have to survive Namjoon.
“How are things?” he asks, folding one endlessly long leg over the other.
Beside you, Yoongi radiates nervous energy. Jittery but not anxious. The kind of pent-up energy a runner might have: in position, awaiting the gunfire before a race. Composed to a fault, it’s not often you see him like this. Maybe right before an album drop or a big show, but never in marriage counseling.
So it doesn’t feel like a lie or lip service when you say, “Better,” and Namjoon and Yoongi both swallow down the same kind of smile.
“And why is that?”
“We’re going on a trip,” Yoongi says, and this surprises you, too. Protective, fiercely private Yoongi. “To, um. A friend’s place. Up in Oakhurst.”
Namjoon looks excited. “Near Yosemite,” he says. Not a question. “Is this a getaway or just a change of scenery?”
You look at Yoongi; Yoongi looks at you. “I’ll have to work some of the time, so I guess it’s a little bit of both,” you answer, “but it feels… good, exciting. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Yeah?”
You’re fidgeting, digging imaginary dirt from beneath your nails again as your cheeks warm. “Yeah. I know Yoongi has wanted to go for a long time, so I’m excited for that. I think… I think it’s important for him to do something like that, right now. Something big, you know? Or, something that feels big, I guess. I think it’ll be good for him, and—”
“It’ll be good for us.” Yoongi’s correction is gentle, dandelion-soft. He can’t look you in the eye as he says it, but he doesn’t need to. His neck is flushed and Namjoon’s expressive enough for all three of you. “Anything that’s good for me is good for us.”
If you’re stunned, Namjoon is shell shocked. It lasts all of five seconds before he’s coughing to cover his grin, jotting down notes like a mad professor, and it’s a little tooreminiscent of the way your parents had pushed you out the front door on your prom night—that same brand of giddy excitement, like they knew something you didn’t. But, Namjoon is a professional before anything else, so he simply asks, “How long are you going?”
“TBD,” Yoongi answers again.
“You’re able to take the time off?”
Right back to earth. Another sore point, because sometimes, like now, it’s easy to forget who you’re married to; easy to forget when you’re the pinnacle of American suburbia—standard nine-to-five, family health insurance plan, a maxed-out Roth IRA—and Yoongi is anything but. It’s easy to forget when your lives are so different. When Yoongi’s got songs and albums to write, for himself and everyone else, and shows and tours to plan, for himself and when someone else needs him as a fill-in, and you’re gearing up for another half-year spent alone at home.
Sure, it sucks sometimes, but getting to watch Yoongi live out his dreams tampers down all that negativity. When it’s two a.m. in Los Angeles but midday where he is and he sends you pictures of whatever he’s doing, what he’s eating, candids of his tourmates, all the sights and sounds. Yoongi’s doing exactly what he’s always wanted, what he’s meant to, and it’s okay.
What’s good for him is good for you, after all.
“I, uh—” He pauses, rubs at the back of his neck. The flush is still there. “I put a pause on the stand-in work for the rest of the year. Told everyone I wanted to focus on writing and producing and… stuff. Everything else. Getting my shit together.” You can hear it when he swallows, can see the slight tremor of his hands. Yoongi has never done well when he’s not working himself to the bone—when he has too much free time to spend in his own head. “And I can do that from anywhere, so.”
Namjoon catches your eye over the rim of his glasses. Seems to ask a question you’re not sure the answer to so you just stare back, and then his attention turns back to Yoongi. “When you say ‘stuff,’ what do you mean?”
“Well, I wound up here, didn’t I?”
From anyone else, it would sound snappy and bitter, but from Yoongi it’s just… self-deprecating, wounded, like it’s nothing more than a personal failure. Like Yoongi is the only reason the two of you are in marriage counseling and not a million little things the two of you have done. “We,” you correct, dandelion-soft just like Yoongi had been, and his head turns toward you so sharply you worry his neck is going to snap. “Don’t do that, Yoongi.”
He’s stock-still, back uncharacteristically ramrod straight, jaw dropped slightly. “Don’t take on the full burden of this. We wound up here. It’s okay to say that.”
Namjoon tries so hard to hide another smile that his dimples look more like craters.
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i roll the window down and then begin to breathe in / the darkest country road and the strong scent of evergreen.
“Hi.”
Yoongi is slouched in the doorway of your office, beanie pulled down low. Strands of curls stick out of the bottom and you shoot him a smile, distracted from your task of packing up your work equipment. “Hi. What’s up?”
“Are you all packed?”
You shrug. “Just about. I don’t really have that much stuff. Just my laptop and some files.” You eye him skeptically, already sensing where this is going. “Are you?”
Your husband pouts, and it’s such a pathetic expression that you swear you can feel your heart grow three sizes. “In my defense—”
“Oh my god.” You try to look stern, but a laugh bubbles out of you anyway. “Why do you always do this?”
“I don’t like packing,” he whines. “And I need help.”
“With what?”
“Some of my production stuff.” He pouts deeper, sends you an impressive pair of puppy dog eyes. “Please help me. You’re my only hope.”
“How much are you bringing?”
“Not that much,” he answers in a way that sounds like a promise. “I wanted to bring the Yamaha because the cabin has that screened in porch and I think the acoustics could be really interesting in there, but it’s really heavy—”
You sigh. Look down at your laptop and stack of paperwork and wireless mouse and sigh again, then nod your agreement, because it’s not the first time you’ve helped Yoongi lug his gear in and out of your place and it won’t be the last. You’ve all but perfected it by now.
The car looks more like you’re moving than going on a trip. Your neighbor’s such a shithead you’re surprised he hasn’t poked his head out by now and asked when the house is getting listed so he can buy it and flip it for three times the price. Another brainless capitalist shill, Yoongi always says, and you laugh to yourself as you force another duffel bag of god-knows-what into the trunk. And we’re his neighbors, so what does that say about us? you always reply.
It takes the better part of twenty minutes, but then it’s done and you’re left with sore arms and a sweaty brow. Yoongi looks like the weight of the world’s been lifted from his shoulders rather than his hefty digital piano, and the thankful smile he shoots at you is worth any price.
“Do you need help with anything?” he asks, and you shake your head.
“No,” you respond, picking up the stack of files only to drop them back down on your desk. “It’s really just my laptop and this stuff. I’m fine; go do whatever it is you’ve got left to do. I’ll take care of it.”
There’s a look Yoongi gets when he’s laser-focused. Intense, unmistakeable, intimidating, especially when it’s trained on you. That’s how he’s looking at you now: looking at the sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your tongue runs along your bottom lip, your mussed-up hair. Both of you know exactly what he wants, and it drives you a little crazy when he’s shameless like this. When he’s not shy about looking, about wanting.
So Yoongi bends you over your desk and fucks you right there, right in your office in front of the street-side window. It’s hazy and primal but he takes his time, does and says exactly what he wants, has you a trembling, incoherent mess in record time, and it works. You come so hard you don’t think about the song, you don’t cry, and those threads of optimism start weaving something you can hold in your hands.
“Shut it off,” Yoongi slurs, voice deep and raspy from sleep.
You snort, turning off your alarm, seven a.m. sharp, and roll over to press a kiss to his forehead. “Wake up, sleepyhead, I got breakfast.”
He opens one eye, looks at you questioningly with it, blinks in confusion. “How long have you been up?”
“A while. Now, come on, I ordered your favorite.”
That piques his attention. “The breakfast sandwich?” You nod. “And the little strudels?” You nod again. “Coffee, too?”
You grab the plastic cup and shake it, rattling the ice. “One large iced Americano, at the ready. I even got you one of those bottled horchata cold brews for the road, even though you swear you don’t like them.”
“They’re too sweet,” Yoongi answers. It might be early, but apparently not early enough to not lie right through his teeth.
You glare. “You steal mine every time I order one.”
“That’s not true,” he grumbles, accusations forgotten as he spots the greasy takeout bag. “I should brush my teeth first,” he whines, looking agonized. “I should, right?”
“Says who?”
“I don’t know. The universe or whatever.”
You laugh. Watch, fond, as he drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom. Watch, even more fond, as he returns with a little toothpaste on the corner of his mouth that you thumb away. Watch, hopelessly and forever endeared, as he buries himself back under the duvet, pulls it up and over his nose. You can see the way he’s pouting from his eyes alone, and he starts whining about the cold, how early it is, how the only thing that’ll cure him is a kiss.
Which you give. Freely, without thought.
(And the two of you barely make it to Santa Clarita before Yoongi cracks open the cold brew he didn’t want. Doesn’t say a word about it being too sweet, just sits quietly in the passenger seat, half asleep, as he scrolls through his playlists. Queues up something soft, easy to listen to, and talks your ear off about Jeff Beck when one of his songs comes on.
Beck’s Bolero, which is not as soft and easy as the songs that played before it, but it makes Yoongi’s eyes light up. Has him seemingly speaking in tongues as he spits guitar terms to you, half of Jeff Beck’s life story interwoven with endless praise and awe, all the while he drinks his horchata cold brew and doesn’t say a word about it being too sweet.
You want to listen to him for the rest of your life.)
Oakhurst is small.
Only two traffic lights before you reach the road Seokjin’s cabin is on—a sharp right turn off the main highway, an acute angle, a steep decline. You’re glad you’re doing this in early March and not the dead of winter. Doubly glad you’d ignored the judgmental stare Yoongi had given you at the car dealership when you’d insisted on an SUV, all-wheel-drive.
You’d know the cabin was Jin’s even without an address. Baby blue exterior, pink front door. Blends in but still manages to stick out, much like the man himself. More like a bungalow, maybe. Looks, from the outside, like the kind of place that might be good for starting over. Someplace small and unassuming—someplace with a screened-in porch with two rocking chairs. A place where you can drink coffee. Decompress from the city. A place where the only thing you know is Yoongi, so he’s your focus.
A place that makes you smile.
You kill the engine. Just sit in the silence for a moment, hesitant to wake up Yoongi. Unsure, honestly, how he’d slept through the last leg of the trip, all the hairpin turns and uneven roads, but you close the car door gently and punch in the lock code for the house and lug in everything except Yoongi’s gear and let him sleep. Then, when he stirs awake, looking confused and a little lost, you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and gesture theatrically at the baby blue bungalow with the pink door and say, “Surprise! We’re here!” even though it’s not a surprise.
Yoongi laughs anyway.
There isn’t much to unpack, nor is there much space to put it. Only a closet in each of the bedrooms, so you dump everything out of your suitcase and thread your clothes through velvet hangers. Laugh at the thought of Yoongi doing no such thing—of Yoongi living out of his luggage for the next couple weeks, everything wrinkled and looking lived-in.
He comes and finds you, places a hand on your hip as he asks for the car keys, says he’s going to the store. Seokjin had stocked the pantry, but he wants to get fresh stuff, and you know that means he’s going to come back with more coffee than groceries. So you just nod, say okay, ask if he’d like you to unpack and put away his clothes. His nose scrunches; you hide your smile and leave it alone.
When he’s gone, you crack a window in the living room to air out the lingering emptiness. Suck in a mouthful of fresh air that seems to sting your lungs, all evergreen. There’s still so much to do, and you should probably stretch your legs after so long in the car, but the temptation to sink into the couch is strong. Seokjin’s got a soft blanket thrown over the back that you arrange over your legs, and then you’re asleep, some stupid paranormal show playing on the television to greet Yoongi whenever he gets back.
You dream of forgiveness, endless sprawling mountains, and the smell of coffee.
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the rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door / have been silenced forevermore. and the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row. it seems farther than ever before.
There’s a dive bar up the highway that does karaoke on Friday nights. You crack a joke about going.
“Fat chance,” Yoongi answers. He’s driving this time, and his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles have gone purple-white.
It shouldn’t mean anything. It doesn’t. Yoongi isn’t a dive bar karaoke kind of guy anymore. Left those days back in college, where you were suffering through your economics courses at USC and barely had two nickels to rub together. Yoongi would play open mics during the week just to cover the bus fare for the two of you to go into Koreatown on Fridays—enough to cover a noraebang for an hour, just to sing some girl group song horribly off-pitch just to make you laugh.
So it shouldn’t sting when Yoongi scoffs and says fat chance about singing karaoke at the dive bar when you drive past it, because Yoongi isn’t a dive bar karaoke kind of guy anymore. Now he’s the kind of guy who gets up on a stage and sings songs to thousands of people. They don’t laugh; they take pictures and videos and sing along to words he wrote, so it shouldn’t sting, and you try not to let it.
Instead, you focus on the blur of scenery: all the greens and browns; whites and deep grays from all the trees that have burned; the blue of the endless sky; the color of the asphalt, the edge of the world, like you could tip right over and disappear, nothing beyond the margins. Yoongi drives the thirty minutes to the park and it doesn’t sting, and you wonder if it’s just because it doesn’t or if it’s because you’re numb.
Yosemite is hard to put into words.
You feel small, wrapped in the expanse of the mountains, in this ancient nature that has existed long before you and will persist long after you’re gone. Maybe insignificant is a better word for it, because there’s so much to see—so much that’s known and unknown—and it feels like counting grains of sand. Feels like you could never possibly catch up.
So you sit on the ledge of an overlook and just exist. You don’t watch Yoongi take pictures on an old point and shoot, the one he’d ordered from Japan, because this is just for you. Whatever happens between you and Yoongi, these memories will only belong to you, and you don’t want to override something that’s happy with something that could eventually be sad.
The two of you get back in the car. The drive to Yosemite Village is slow, made even slower when you pass a bunch of cars pulled over. There, about thirty feet from the road, is a baby bear and a crowd. There’s a woman standing too close in order to take a picture and ten more people screaming at her for it. Yoongi looks awestruck when you catch his eye.
“I’ve never seen a bear before,” he says, and you nod. Neither have you.
Maybe you were a little stung before, about the karaoke, even though it’s stupid. But the fact that you and Yoongi have been together for so long and still manage to see new things together eases it a little. Plants a tiny, hopeful little seed.
All you have to do is water it.
The weather in the village is bitter cold.
Both of you are wrapped up tight, only your noses peeking out from between the layers of your scarves, tinged pink. Yoongi had wanted to go to Mirror Lake; didn’t seem at all deterred when he found out the shuttles were only doing basic routes so the two of you would have to follow the trail from the shuttle stop. Just under two miles. Hadn’t seemed so bad at the time, but now your lungs ache.
Snow and ice cover most of the lake. It isn’t as reflective as it’s known for, but you’re glad to experience it nonetheless. The sand crunches beneath your boots as you look for a log to sit on, the chill seeping through your clothing as you rummage through your backpack for a protein bar. Yoongi’s off taking pictures again, and it’s another moment you’re content to sit in the quiet.
Gives you time to take stock, figure out how you’re feeling. Instinct wants to say better, but you know it’s wishful thinking. Immature. The tendrils of hurt are still wrapped around your heart, and it’s only been a few days. Not enough time to hack them away. But you’re… at ease. For the first time in a while, it feels like you can breathe, and doing so doesn’t make you feel heavy, doesn’t weigh you down with guilt. Things might not be okay right now, not all the way, but you think your compass is finally pointed in the right direction.
Your husband joins you once he’s done. Doesn’t say anything, just sits beside you on the log and accepts when you offer him half of your protein bar. He’s got a nervous energy about him, like there’s something he wants to say but can’t figure out how to, and that feels familiar. That feels like the status quo. Two people who love each other but can’t figure out how to talk to one another.
So you say, “It’s gorgeous here,” and hope it’s enough. You’re not going to push him if he doesn’t want to talk, but it feels necessary to extend an olive branch. It feels necessary to try.
“It is,” Yoongi agrees. Rubs his hands together. Watches his breath dissipate in front of him. “It feels different.”
“What do you mean?”
A bird lands on a branch in front of you. Orange chest, vibrant blue on top; striking against the dreary backdrop of winter. You watch as it ruffles its feathers, shakes off the snow, and Yoongi cocks his head to the side. A guy who knows a little about a lot, full of knowledge, so you aren’t surprised when he says, “That’s a western bluebird.”
You hum an acknowledgment, because you know what it means to see a bluebird. You know the symbolism, but it feels a little too heavy to bear right now. “Pretty.”
“Yeah.” Then he’s sucking in a breath. Says, “There’s a ramen spot in Mariposa, if you’d wanna go there for dinner.”
It’s not what you were expecting him to say, but you nod anyway. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
Yoongi finally turns to you, then. Raises an eyebrow in question. “But is it what you want?”
“It’s just dinner,” you shrug. “Something warm will be nice after this.”
That nervous energy amplifies. Turns all those words clearly biting at the back of his teeth into a tangible thing. “Something warm—yeah, okay. Sounds good. They have matcha cheesecake.” He smiles, like he doesn’t want to but can’t help himself. “Seemed like something you’d like.”
Two things strike you, then: that your husband is always centering you in his world, even when the two of you are like this, and how badly it hurts that you can’t seem to talk to one another. Because you aren’t taking pictures with him because they might turn out sad, and Yoongi is choosing restaurants because they have matcha cheesecake.
And to hell with that, you think. Yoongi is your husband, and if you can’t talk to him then who can you talk to? So you sigh, say, “Look at me, Yoongi,” and you know there’s a fragment of surprise evident on your face when he listens. You know there’s a fragment of sadness on yours when you take in how exhausted he looks. Almost defeated. “Why can’t we seem to talk to one another?”
It must be what he was working up the courage to say, because his shoulders sag immediately. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m trying, but it’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes I’m scared I’m gonna say the wrong thing and that’s gonna be it.”
Your brows pinch. “Okay,” you say, because sometimes you aren’t easy to talk to. Sometimes you take things too personally, sort of revel in the hurt. You understand hesitation. “I… want to fix that. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”
Yoongi nods. “Yeah,” he eventually answers. “I do, too. We’re not really gonna fix anything unless we can talk to each other.”
“Yeah, true.” The bluebird chirps from its spot in the tree. Stares down at the two of you with these jerky little tilts of its head. “Do you think that’s our problem? How it got… like this.”
“I don’t know, baby,” he says again, and you immediately want to push back on it. I don’t know doesn’t tell you anything. Doesn’t tell you how to fix it, how not to let it get this bad again. But then he says, “It could’ve been anything, you know? A million things. I think—I know that doesn’t help you, but for me, it’s less important how and why we got here because that’s… gone. I can’t change it, and the more I dwell on it the more I spiral, so I’m trying not to do that.”
A stuttered exhale. “I haven’t felt present in a long time and I guess it just compounded. Like, once I realized something was wrong, it felt like I’d left it too long to try and do something about it. I knew you were hurt, and instead of trying to fix it, I’d just think, of course you hurt her, because you’re good at that.”
“That’s what you think?”
“Sometimes.” You reach over and take his hand, barely able to slot your fingers together with the thickness of your gloves. “I know I explained it to you before, but the song… it wasn’t honesty, it was self-destruction. Because I thought if all I do is hurt you, then you should be with someone who doesn’t do that. Someone who knows what they have and is able to hang onto it.” He hangs his head, guilt-stricken. “I don’t know why I wrote it. Call of the void shit, I guess, like I told you. I knew the whole time it was a bad idea. I just thought… maybe you’d hear it and do what I couldn’t.”
“Leave?”
He laughs, all derision. “Yeah. Stupid, isn’t it? I’m scared to death that you’ll leave me, so I tried to speed up the process.”
You sit with his words for a minute. “I don’t think it’s stupid, Yoongi. Can I tell you what I think? I think you feel like you deserve to be a little sad, like some kind of artist’s curse. I think you think you need to feel tortured in order to create, and I think you’ve appointed yourself the arbiter of my happiness, so you see me being human as a failure on your part. And I think I made a very smart choice when I was twenty-one years old, because I think you’ve taken my heart and kept it safe all these years.
“It… does matter to me, how we got here,” you continue, “because if I don’t know why, I’m scared it’ll happen again. But you told me I need to give you more credit, and that goes both ways. I know I can be a bastard, so I’m going to be selfish and ask for patience, and I’m going to give you the same. Just… please believe me when I say I’m not going anywhere. Not as long as we’re both gonna try to fix this.”
Yoongi stays quiet. Sticks out his pinky, and you hook yours around it.
(You know what it means to see a bluebird. Remember reading about it once, back when you were desperate to find meaning in everything. Right after a time of tremendous difficulty, the bluebird comes to bring good fortune in all things such as love, healing, and happiness.)
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and together there in a shroud of frost, the mountain air / began to pass through every pane of weathered glass / and i held you closer than anyone would ever get.
Yoongi’s birthday is soon.
Four days, to be exact. The two of you will be celebrating in Jin’s cabin in Oakhurst, surrounded by nature and a town still foreign to you, Yoongi’s music gear scattered all around like a treasure hunt. Follow the cables until you find him, hunched in front of a glowing computer screen, massive headphones shoved over his ears as he gets absorbed into his own world, strumming his guitar all the while.
You think thirty will look good on him.
The weather’s still mild, still colder than you’re used to, but the breeze feels nice when you open the small windows in the kitchen and let it blow through. It feels nice when you run to the grocery store and stand in the foreign aisles, staring at all the ingredients you’ll need to bake a cake. You haven’t done it in ages; since Yoongi’s twenty-sixth, you think. Almond with chantilly cream. It had taken you ages because the cream kept splitting, and you insisted on meticulously arranging little strawberry slices between the layers, but Yoongi had loved it so much it hadn’t felt like work at all.
So you grab what you need and some things you don’t and you feel as light as the breeze on the drive back to the cabin. You make a last-second decision to stop at the donut shop because it closes in the afternoon and you never catch it when it’s open. Two blueberry old fashioneds, a large Americano for Yoongi, and a mocha iced coffee for yourself. Six dollars, and the woman behind the counter is kind.
“What’s that?” Yoongi asks when you place the coffee and donut on his makeshift desk. The headphones are looped around his neck.
You click your tongue, all sugar. “What does it look like?”
“This looks like a donut and an Americano. What’s in the bag, though?”
“I went to the grocery store.”
“For what?” he pouts. “I was just there!”
That pout fades when you press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t pout. I picked up stuff for your birthday cake.”
“My birth—” he begins, seemingly offended by the mere thought of his birthday and that it might be soon, and then he looks at the date on his computer and mumbles an, oh shit. “You’re baking me a cake?”
“Yeah, I thought it’d be nice.”
He tries to peer into the bag. “What kind?” You swat him away.
“It’s a surprise,” you deadpan.
“But I saw strawberries in there.”
“No you didn’t. Now, eat your donut and get back to work.”
Yoongi pouts again. Really exaggerates it. “I’m really stuck on this bit. I might need a kiss for good luck.”
As you press a kiss to his lips, you think you might give him whatever he wants.
Yoongi spends the morning of his birthday tucked in bed.
You spend the morning of Yoongi’s birthday beneath the duvet, hands roaming every inch of your husband’s body. Thumbs digging into the muscles of his calves, sore from the overuse they’ve suffered the last few days. Nails grazing the sensitive skin of his biceps, his stomach, the insides of his thighs. Lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to his forehead, his temple, his neck, down his chest, the jut of both hip bones. And then, once he’s whining and writhing and just on the verge of begging, you spend the morning of Yoongi’s birthday making him come with your mouth.
He spends the early afternoon in his makeshift studio with a cup of coffee. Answers a couple emails. Calls his parents. Messes around on Cubase. Fixes the two of you a quick lunch and says he might want to wander around town for a little bit. Check out the antique store down the street, maybe spend a few hours in the park with his guitar, get some fresh air. Thirty feels weird, he says, and you’re anchored to your laptop at the small dining room table, so you just say okay, I’ll see you later for dinner. There’s a crooked smile on Yoongi’s face as he hikes the gig bag over his shoulder, and then he’s gone.
You: He just left. Coast is clear.
Seokjin: Thank fuck, I’ve been sitting at this Starbucks for 500 hours
You: No you haven’t
Seokjin: 499 hours*
When he arrives, Seokjin blows right by you and locks himself in the bathroom. You know I refuse to use public restrooms, he says after, slinging his arm around your shoulders. He’s not a hugger, so it’s the closest you’re going to get to one.
“My car reeks of kimchi and soup,” he says, dropping a bag of groceries in front of the refrigerator. “Won’t be able to get that smell out for weeks, probably.”
“Thank you for your sacrifice,” you intone. “You’re a god amongst men, Kim Seokjin.”
It’d been your idea. Wanted Yoongi to ring in his thirtieth birthday surrounded by as much love as possible, and a cabin-bungalow nearly five hours away from home wasn’t especially opulent. Not to mention Yoongi had been on tour the last two years—spent twenty-eight and nine in grimy venues in Texas and Birmingham, respectively—and the less said about 2020 the better.
So Seokjin had fucked off from his cushy job for the day and made the drive from San Francisco. Made the miyeokguk and myeongnan-jeot himself, and had whined when you told him you already bought the ingredients for a cake because I was gonna pick up mujigae-tteok, to which you replied, pick it up anyway.
Now he’s standing in the small kitchen of his own small bungalow, and you’ve got a one-thirty meeting so you can’t help, but he’s determined to make gyeran mari anyway, even if it inconveniences you. “Maybe I should make it closer to when he’ll be back?”
“Up to you,” you shrug. “You could also stand on the side of the road and resell all those eggs for ten times the price.”
He just sends you A Look.
You watch through the small window above the kitchen sink as Yoongi returns just after six, cheeks pink from the wind, arms full of goodies.
“Hey,” he says, kicking his boots off on the porch, “is that—”
“SURPRISE!”
Seokjin’s scream is so shrill you think you black out for a second. Nearly topple over from your spot in front of the island, frosting knife poised to strike. Yoongi’s still out on the porch, and there’s a terrible crash that can only be him startling and knocking into one of the rocking chairs. He’ll appear any second now, brows pinched, and go is that Seokjin? and once he confirms it is, in fact, Seokjin, he’ll start yell—
“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, appearing in the doorway. Brows pinched. “I was gonna ask if that’s Seokjin’s car outside, but now I don’t fucking need to.”
Seokjin tuts, ladles another bowl full of miyeokguk. “Is that any way to speak to your elders? Now, get in here and sit down. It’s not breakfast, but it’ll have to do.”
Yoongi grumbles the entire time, but you see the way the flush deepens on his cheeks. The way he’s pleased to be fussed over, to have you and Seokjin in the same room as him. Pleased to be celebrating thirty surrounded by people who love him, people he loves in turn.
“Did you call your mother?” Seokjin asks, setting the bowl in front of him. He jokingly tucks a napkin into the front of Yoongi’s shirt.
“Of course I called my mother.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Are you stupid? It’s not my first day being Korean.”
“That’s correct! It’s your 10,950th day being Korean.”
“How did you—”
“I knew you would say that so I looked up how many days are in thirty years. Now, is your lovely wife done with the cake?”
You are, just about. Just a few more slices of strawberry to place on top, and you take a step back once you do so. Admire your hard work. Send up a quick thanks that the cream hadn’t split this time. Seokjin and Yoongi are still bickering—
(“Did you make the miyeokguk last night?”
“I’m offended, Yoongi. Of course I made it last night, the broth needs time to develop! It’s not my first day being Korean, either!”
“No, it’s your ten billionth, you decrepit bitch.”)
—and your heart feels full. Content. You see Yoongi laughing, all gums, and feel untethered. Like any second now your ribs are going to crack apart and give way, let your heart tumble right out of your body. Because it belongs next to Yoongi, always. Because it wants to be next to Yoongi.
So you finish the cake and set it aside. Sit down at the place Seokjin set for you, right next to your husband, whose hand immediately goes to your knee; who immediately turns and smiles at you, even though Seokjin is still squawking in the background. Yah, Yoongi, compliment the soup! Tell me how good it is! Yoongi doesn’t, because he’s still smiling, can’t look away from you, and you swear you can hear a fissure forming, except this one doesn’t hurt.
This one doesn’t hurt at all.
Yoongi is sufficiently drunk by nine.
That traitorous combination of alcohol and sugar. A shot of soju, a bite of cake, some mujigae-tteok. Seokjin’s endless chatter as background noise. Yoongi’s hand still on your knee, warm warm warm. Liquor loosens him up a little, has him bashful, chin tucked to his chest, when he offhandedly mentions Namjoon and Seokjin says who’s this Namjoon, and Yoongi says he’s our marriage counselor. Seokjin looks to you, then. Connects some dots.
Says, “Ah, Yoongi, did you eat your tteokguk on Seollal? No? See, this is why things are hard right now, because you didn’t eat your tteokguk. It’s good luck, that’s why you eat it,” because it’s easiest to get through to Yoongi, to let him know he’s okay, when you’re scolding him a little. When you treat it kind of like a joke. No big deal.
And Seokjin follows that up with, “How are you settling in here?” when what he really wants to know is are things better, are the two of you doing okay. Yoongi grumbles again, barely coherent at his current level of inebriation, and Seokjin says, “Ah, I bet not well, huh? There’s just the one Starbucks, can’t find your bougie pour-over, LA coffee here, can you? Do they even have oat milk? Are you—”
“It’s still California,” Yoongi argues, “there’s fucking oat milk everywhere. Hey, hyung, did you—did you know there’s, like, the tree nut milk orchard near here? Not far. Close by. I could drive to see the al-almonds.”
“Tree nut milk,” Seokjin deadpans. “You know, Yoongi, I did not know that. Why don’t you tell me all about it.”
By eleven, Seokjin is passed out on the couch.
By eleven-ten, Yoongi has convinced you to lay in the grass with him. A minute later he’s staring up at the sky, making wishes on superstitions. His breath vaporizes in the cold, and he’s not wearing a jacket, but he’s still flushed from the alcohol, feels invincible.
“Think the edible’s hitting me.” He laughs, short and raspy, and he doesn’t seem to care that the grass is wet with dew. Doesn’t care that it’s in his hair, seeping through his clothes. “What’s your favorite one of those?”
He’s pointing at the stars, wants to know your favorite constellation. All of them, you want to say, following his line of sight. Because they’re all different. All meaningful in different ways. All have their own story. Instead, you roll your head to the side, take in Yoongi’s profile. Say, “You’re my favorite,” and laugh at how flustered he gets, laugh at his gravelly protests.
“Yah, you can-can’t say that,” he whines. “That’s so greasy, you can’t say that, it doesn’t count. Give me a real ans—”
“Then why are you smiling?” You laugh as he grows even more thunderstruck, completely caught-out, and it’s nearing midnight but it does nothing to hide the blush creeping down his neck, tingeing the tips of his ears. “You’re so red. That’s exactly what you wanted me to say, you absolute—”
“Real answer, please.”
You decide to take pity on him. Poor thing, can barely look you in the eye because of one terrible pick-up line. “Fine. Pisces.”
His responding groan is so loud you have to slap your hand over his mouth. The grass is so cold but Yoongi’s laughter, the way his shoulders shake with it, makes you warm. “You’re just saying that,” he says once you remove your hand.
“Am not. Ask me why.”
“Okay. Why?”
“Because you’re a Pisces, first of all—”
“Oh my god, here we fuckin’ go—”
“—but I just like the myth. Aphrodite and Eros transformed themselves into fish to escape Typhon, and tied themselves together with rope so they wouldn’t lose one another.” You sigh, watch your breath dissipate into the dark. “I don’t know. I like to think… I don’t believe in soulmates, but I like to think some people are meant to tie themselves together. Some people aren’t meant to be apart.”
There’s a quiet little oh, and then there’s silence. Just the distant sounds of the highway, a dog howling, and, if you listen closely enough, Seokjin’s snoring from inside. Yoongi finds your hand, brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of it, and he’s oddly quiet. Contemplative, maybe. Usually gets a couple drinks in him and starts talking your ear off, but this is nice, too. It’s nice to just exist in the silence alongside someone else.
“Do you know the myth about Eurydice and Orpheus?” he finally asks, and you nod, suddenly understanding why Yoongi doesn’t care that his hair is wet. So inconsequential to this moment where you can exist in the silence alongside someone else. “I was thinking about it today.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think… I think I’d fuck it up. I think I’d look back. And I think you wouldn’t.” He sighs, and the weight of the world expels alongside it. “What you said about Aphrodite and Eros, that some people are meant to be tied together—if I couldn’t hear you, or touch you… That’s what you are for me, you know? An anchor. The first time I read it, it made me so fuckin’ angry, like why can’t this guy just listen, if he loves her that much wouldn’t he listen, but… I dunno. I think I get it.
“I’m so scared all the time that one day I’m gonna look back and you won’t be there anymore. What would I even do? Baby, what would I do? Sometimes I’m fuckin’ terrified that I don’t think I could have that kind of faith in anything, and I’m finally gonna make it to the end of this cave and they’re gonna lay all my betrayals at my feet.”
Midnight finds you still staring up at the sky, hair wet, breath tangible, wondering how you can be both an anchor and an albatross.
(In the morning, Seokjin makes tteokguk and ladles extra into Yoongi’s bowl.)
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i'm reaching for the phone to call at 7:03, and on your machine / i slur a plea for you to come home, but i know it's too late / and i should have given you a reason to stay.
The thing about grief is that it’s indiscriminate.
Because it has no context. Grief doesn’t know that things are better, doesn’t know that the two of you have stuck to your appointments with Namjoon and are able to talk honestly; doesn’t know that laughing feels lighter, easier; doesn’t know that guilt isn’t weighing you down as heavy. So it feels a lot like treading water, and sometimes you’re able to float and sometimes you slip beneath the waves, struggle to breathe.
And it’s stupid, you think, that you can disappear too far into your mind to the place where everything feels bad. Where progress is meaningless. Where there’s still you and Yoongi and a crumbling marriage. Where the only words ringing in your ears aren’t I love you, but you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me. Just like last time. Regression.
There are only so many distractions. Work helps, because you can’t focus on how shitty you feel—how scared you are—when your boss is on your ass about deadlines. The antique store in town helps, too, though you must’ve worn a pattern into the floors by now, but you can’t help it. It’s nice to hear the stones crunching under the tires when you pull into the parking lot; nice to laugh at the giant Sasquatch outside and greet them like a friend; nostalgic to breathe in the scent of old stuff—belongings that were once well-loved, now free to be loved by someone else.
Grief doesn’t care that you’re sad and Yoongi has that spark in his eyes.
But Yoongi is smart. Wickedly perceptive. Knows there’s something bothering you long before you gather the courage to say it, because it feels wrong to dim that spark, take it away, so he lets you sit with it. Lets you take your time, and that endless patience just makes you feel worse. Makes you think, he deserves better. Makes you think, what’s the point of any of this. Makes you angry, because things aren’t fixed but they’re better, and why can’t everything hurt all at once instead of incrementally.
And, just like always, you can only tread water for so long, stave off the inevitable.
Because Yoongi’s giving you time but when you feel like this, everything reads like an attack. Feels like disregard and indifference. What you want is unfair, and you know it, because you want Yoongi to be able to reach into your mind and see everything that’s turned necrotic. You want him to know how to fix it without having to talk about it, because talking about it makes you feel guilty. How many times can you press your fingers into the same wound and be shocked when they come out bloody?
So it isn’t fair and it’s also hard. Words bite at the back of your teeth, because this is your husband—if you can’t talk to him, what are you even doing? Namjoon would laugh. The one that’s equal parts patient and exasperated, like he can’t believe someone like you exists even though he’s seen some shit. Worse shit than you and Yoongi have, that’s for sure, so it should be reassuring.
(Everything reads like an attack.)
“Hey,” Yoongi says, hip resting against the counter, towel thrown over his shoulder. (These things always happen in a kitchen.) “You okay?”
How doubly unfair is it that your first instinct is to lie? To say yeah, I’m fine—not to be deceptive, but because you’re sure with enough time you can make it true, foolishly certain you can either bury it or delude yourself. But Yoongi is looking at you like a caged animal; like he, too, is foolishly certain of foolish things. Yoongi is looking at you like he knows this is it. Like this is where you say I’m sorry, this just isn’t working, we were stupid to think it would even though we’re trying. Like this is where you take off your wedding band and place it calmly in his hand. No dramatics, just resignation.
So you don’t lie. You can’t. Instead, you say, “Yeah, I think… I think it’s just been a little hard lately.”
Yoongi tries to lie, too. Tries to hide how relieved his exhale is, but the smile peeks through, the flush on his cheeks. Can’t hide that he’s pleased because all those nightmares he’d conjured in his head aren’t coming true.
“I should’ve said something earlier,” you say, because it’s something that’s true, “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t want you to feel bad, you know? I don’t want to keep rehashing things.”
He closes the distance. Wraps you in his arms, all warmth. Presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I know it’s hard to talk about these things sometimes. I just wanted to make sure we’re okay.”
“Yeah. Yeah, Yoongi, I think we will be.”
(Something that’s true.)
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it felt just like falling in love again. and it felt just like falling in love again.
On Friday, the two of you go to the bar for karaoke night.
As he’s buttoning his shirt, Yoongi says do you think they’ll have Epik High? and you can’t help the ugly laugh that tumbles out of you even though it’s not really funny. Because no, this two stoplight town won’t have Epik High, but it’s the kind of thing you laugh at when you’re feeling terribly fond, horribly endeared—it’s the kind of thing you laugh at when you’re riding the high of going through hell and making it to the other side.
It’s the kind of thing you laugh at instead of detailing every reason you’re in love with him.
So you do your hair and makeup nice. Barely make it out the door, because Yoongi stumbles into the bathroom to fix his hair and put on cologne and stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. Mutters a goddamn under his breath before he’s all over you. Kisses pressed to the nape of your neck, hips pressing you against the counter. The right side of painful.
You manage to pry him off of you long enough to shove him out the door, thighs just a little bruised, Yoongi’s lips a little too red. He’s still all over you at the bar. Still rests a possessive hand at the small of your back, still presses a kiss to your cheek every time he gets up to order another round of drinks, still whines and pretends to drag his feet when the house music plays and you pull him onto the dancefloor.
Someone sings “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra. It’s off-key and a little grating and Yoongi’s got wing sauce smeared on his cheek, but he still mouths the words to you. You are all I long for. All I worship and adore. You know you look lovestruck, and you think it’s a shame there’s barely anyone in this bar to witness it. What you and Yoongi have—it should be seen. It should be screamed from rooftops.
When the two of you go back to the bungalow, you split a bottle of red wine and sit on the living room floor. Yoongi has his guitar in his lap, barely able to play the chords properly, but he serenades you anyway. Does a better rendition of Fly Me to the Moon than the guy at the bar just because it’s his, and he’s singing it for you. He sweeps the blankets from the back of the couch onto the floor and fucks you slow. Holds your hand and kisses you until you’re breathless. (You already were.)
The rest of the weekend is spent similarly. Yoongi can’t keep his hands to himself, fucks you in nearly every room of Seokjin’s little house in Oakhurst, and presses praise into your skin like a brand. Sits on the living room floor again as you cook dinner, back ramrod straight against the couch; has a spliff stuck between his lips as he jots down words into a notebook. Looks up and over at you every now and then, cheeks reddening each time you catch him staring. You, too, refuse to smile until you’ve turned back around.
On Sunday night, Yoongi ducks out to go to the drug store and returns with an armful of bath bombs. Looks like he looted a bank, but he asks do you want to use the lavender one in that soft, shy voice, and you wouldn’t be able to say no to him even if you wanted to, so you don’t. You sink into the warm water, let the lilac swirl around you, make you soft, and you feel safe here with your back pressed to Yoongi’s chest. With his legs caging you in. With his words in your ear and his lips pressed to the top of your head, fingers dancing along your ribs, clearing the cobwebs from in between.
Monday comes before you’re ready. Insistent, inevitable—the sunlight streams in, wakes you slowly. Yoongi’s arm is thrown over your middle, both of you still lavender-soft, and he groans when you stir, buries his face in your neck. Everything is warm. A blissful little cocoon, made even more so when Yoongi pulls himself out of bed, makes a pot of coffee, returns with your mug steaming hot. He sets it on your nightstand, doesn’t want to risk burning you by handing it off, and tilts your chin up to press a quick kiss to your lips.
You’ve got a nine-thirty meeting, so you tangle your legs together and drink it as fast you can. Shameless, Yoongi watches as you undress—watches as the sun paints you in golden light, watches as you pull his t-shirt up and over your head, watches as your shoulder blades move beneath your skin. It’s the t-shirt that fucks him up the most, has him a little hard in his briefs. One of his tour shirts, the last one he’d gone on before the two of you got married. Says, a little awed, “I’d follow you anywhere,” and he doesn’t elaborate but somehow you know exactly what he means.
And he stays in the bedroom when you log on for your meeting. Listens to you talk to your team, your laugh soft and bright, and feels entirely dumbstruck. Feels overwhelmed, wonders how his body can possibly contain so much affection. Wonders, briefly, where it goes when everything hurts. If it’s just in a reserve, because Yoongi has loved you as long as he’s known you, and he’s not sure it’s ever felt like this; ever hit him this hard.
So, he locks himself in the second bedroom until the late afternoon. Pours over his notebooks, strums every chord he knows until he finds the right one. Jots down words he scribbles over and jots down more. Writes until the calluses on his fingers turn to blisters, writes until the words all blend together, until there’s something singular instead of tendrils. Yoongi writes until there’s something he can feel proud of; something that might feel a lot like redemption.
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[interlude: monday morning]
(You listen to it far later. Back in your home that isn’t the apartment in Silver Lake but contains just as much love—perhaps more now than before you left; certainly more patience, more hope, more resilience. And as you take in Yoongi’s words, wrapped in their metaphors and their honesty, you cry again, but this time it’s quiet rather than heaving.
This time Yoongi is singing love, keep your arms around me.)
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looking upwards, i strain my eyes and try / to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
“Should we go home soon?”
It’s a Saturday morning, and you and Yoongi are on the porch. The air is crisp and cool, makes your coffee a tolerable temperature, and it’s early enough that the world is largely still asleep. There’s no polluted noise, just the rustling of the grass that’s now a little overgrown and the one neighbor from down the road who always wakes up early to run. He must hear your muted voices, because he waves as he passes by.
Home. Back to Los Angeles. Back to your two-storey home with the awful neighbor who doesn’t wake up early to run and never waves to you. Back to the chaos you know. Back to a home that hasn’t felt much like one lately, but one that can be repaired, just like everything else. A home that’s got enough love stored between its walls that you aren’t worried.
But it’s still daunting, somehow. Things feel solid here, like a houseplant sprouting new life—resilient, but a little fragile, too. So you’re scared to burst the bubble and doubly scared of what that hesitation means. “I don’t know,” you say. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know, either,” Yoongi answers. Takes another sip of his coffee, rocks a little in the chair. He’s got his knees pulled up to his chest. Looks impossibly small, especially in his oversized pajamas and the even larger hoodie he’d thrown over them. “It’s nice here.”
It is, in more ways than one. “Yeah, I’m gonna miss it.”
Yoongi hums. “Maybe I’ll just buy it from Seokjin.” Words muffled by the rim of his mug, like he’s trying to hide them from you.
Doesn’t work. Instead, you turn to him, eyebrow quirked. “Oh, really?”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Gotta do something with all this money, hm?” Then he sighs, picks at imaginary lint on his pants. “You like it here, though, right? Not saying I am, but—”
“Oh no,” you interject, voice at least fifty decibels higher. “I know you, Yoongi! You wouldn’t be asking me any of this unless you already had some half-baked plan in the works—”
“Yah! It’s at least seventy-five percent baked!”
You laugh, the sound the loudest thing for miles. “Yeah, okay. How much did you offer him for it? You spend all my money?”
“Your—that’s not funny.” He pouts. “I didn’t spend all of it.”
“Just seventy-five percent?”
“I’ll have you know I am a very successful musician. I could buy you ten of these cabins if I wanted to.”
You drop your mouth open in mock-affront. “And yet I have zero cabins, so what does that say about the state of your priorities?”
“Not this shit again—”
“I think it’s more of a bungalow, anyway.”
“Yeah, Seokjin said the same thing. Was really offended that I offered to buy his cabin.” A pause. A small lift at the corners of his mouth. “Still offered to sell it to me, though.”
You can’t help the smile that splits your face. “And I’m sure you said yes, of course.”
“I’ve grown very attached to those blueberry donuts.”
“Uh-huh.”
“...And it’s been good for us. We’re happy here. Happier.”
“Yeah, we are. You just needed some fresh air.”
Yoongi’s cheeks tinge pink. “Yah, knock it off! You’re making me sound like a tuberculosis patient. Like I just needed a trip to the seaside to heal.”
“I’m just stating facts, Yoongi. You’re a little studio hermit, barely witnessing the light of day. I bet you got one lungful of this mountain air and almost keeled over.”
“You’re a pain in my ass,” he accuses, “I’m revoking my offer.”
“That you extended with my money.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Saying goodbye is hard.
As you load the last of your belongings into the car, it feels like you’re leaving behind a friend. You know you’ll be back (because Yoongi actually did offer to buy the cabin-bungalow and Seokjin seems keen, but whether that’s because he actually wants to offload it into the two of you or because he wants to salvage your marriage any way he can, you can’t be sure), but tears prick at the corners of your eyes anyway. Because you were desperate when you arrived, and now you aren’t. You were scared and lacking direction, and now you have another place to rest when you get tired.
Yoongi joins you at the car, his guitar bag slung over his shoulder. Just stares at the little blue bungalow with the pink door and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Whatever he’s thinking, you know he’s saying it in his head in that fond tone of his. The one that’s bordering on thankful, and you are, too.
On the way home, Yoongi drives and treats you to (read: makes you suffer through) John Denver karaoke. Sings “Take Me Home, Country Roads” the way he used to sing girl group songs at the noraebang. Holds your hand the entire way, and the two of you stop at some hole in the wall for lunch, still a few hours from the city. He orders a beer—some disgusting IPA you know he only drinks to seem distinguished, even though this is the same guy you watched do keg stands in college for free Natty Light—to get out of driving the rest of the way and it’s your turn to call him a pain in the ass.
But he’s quiet in the passenger seat, and it’s not from the alcohol. He’s typing intermittently on his phone, pink tongue darting out from between his lips when he gets especially focused. “I think I got something,” he says eventually. “If I read it to you, will you tell me if it sounds alright?”
“I majored in economics,” you say, because you always do. It’s been your go-to since the first time he asked, all the way back in your junior year.
He laughs anyway. “Perfect, then you can tell me if this shit is gonna make me any money,” he answers with a wry smile, because he always does. “I’ve had this stuck in my head for days.”
You nod. You listen.
“And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born, then it’s time to go. And you find your destination with so many different places to call home.”
You wonder how Yoongi is always able to put to paper all the feelings you’ve got locked up tight. You wonder how Yoongi always makes Los Angeles seem less daunting.
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there'd be no distance that could hold us back. so this is the new year.
It’s the thirtieth of December.
Your shithead, capitalist shill of a neighbor doesn’t wave when you and Yoongi pack up the car this time, either, just watches from his front porch. You can feel his brooding; worse ever since Yoongi had offhandedly mentioned buying a place up near Yosemite. Got a really good deal from a friend, he’d said, just when we need to get away, you know how it is, and that had your neighbor’s jaw clenching, nodding in faux politeness. Even illuminated by the golden ambiance of icicle lights, he still manages to look like a dickhead.
Good riddance.
“Ready?” Yoongi asks, catching the keys with one hand when you toss them to him.
You nod. Then you fold yourself into the passenger seat and reach for his hand.
Oakhurst is still small, but it’s made room for you, now.
There’s still only two traffic lights before you reach the road your cabin is on—a sharp right turn off the main highway, an acute angle, a steep decline. It doesn’t matter what time of year you make the trip, because the uneven, precipitous little road always makes your stomach drop, but it’s home now. Another physical one, because you and Yoongi have worked hard over the last year to make as many as possible.
(And, even still, the strongest home you’ve made is Us. What the two of you have is something still standing long after the storm. Something that has persevered and stood tall, even when the foundation was shaking. Even when you wanted to tear it down. Even when it seemed beyond repair.)
“Home sweet home,” Yoongi jokes as he kills the engine, and you laugh because his tone is flat and dry. Belies his excitement, his insistence on digging out an old box of Christmas lights from the attic and bringing it with you. That he has this whole plan to spend New Year’s Eve decorating, bringing life to this little blue bungalow with the pink door.
“It is pretty sweet,” you agree, and just like before, you neatly unpack your stuff and thread your clothes through velvet hangers and Yoongi abandons his suitcase in a corner of his studio.
There’s a woman on the television with rosy cheeks and a drink in hand. She isn’t trying to sell you anything.
She’s lovely and very drunk and even more beautiful when she laughs, teeth perfectly straight and blindingly white. She’s prattling off questions to some celebrity, rapid fire, and they’re trying their best to keep up but it’s hopeless. Eventually they, too, just smile into the camera.
Yoongi’s in the kitchen fixing drinks. Expensive champagne flutes filled with inexpensive champagne, a pair of raspberries tossed into each one as a garnish. Your husband doesn’t even like raspberries, but he’d wanted to feel fancy, so you don’t bother questioning it. You know what it means—wants a do-over of last year. Wants this year to be what the last should’ve been, because this year the two of you will be sitting on the same side of the couch, drinking cheap champagne from Vons out of expensive glassware.
A gift from Seokjin, because he’s a bastard. A housewarming gift for a house you’d bought from him.
There’s still an hour before the countdown. There’s still an empty pot on the stove that used to be full of tteokguk. It’s a different New Year, not Seollal, but Yoongi had wanted to make it anyway. Cracked a joke about not wanting to risk it, so he’s going to eat as much tteokguk as possible, that he might need the luck, you never know. I didn’t eat any last year and still bought a second house, he’d said. Imagine how powerful I’ll be if I eat ten bowls of this.
Your husband is always powerful, but you hadn’t pointed that out. Hadn’t pointed out that the only reason the two of you could afford a second house was because Seokjin gave you a steep pity discount, either. Sometimes it’s just nice to believe in luck, on top of all the other things you already have to believe in.
(Like each other.)
There’s still an hour, and Yoongi hands over a flute of champagne and sinks into the couch beside you. You forget about the woman on TV, but you don’t forget about—“You know, I distinctly remember you making me a promise before we came up here last year.”
Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah? Did I make good on it?”
“For the most part,” you answer. “Like, eighty percent.”
Yoongi snorts. “Refresh my memory.”
You set your glass on the coffee table. Angle yourself so you can swing a thigh over Yoongi’s lap to straddle him, earning you another quirked eyebrow. “I distinctly remember you promising to fuck me in every room of this house.”
His own glass abandoned, Yoongi settles one hand on your hip, the other on your thigh. “Surely I already did,” he answers, words spoken into the crook of your neck, goosebumps rising along your skin. “No way I would’ve been able to keep my hands off you.”
Warm lips press against your neck. Kiss their way to your jawline to the corner of your mouth. “Do you remember me fucking you on this couch? On the floor? You remember how hard you came that time?”
Your hips start to grind, seeking friction. This time, the cool metal of Yoongi’s wedding band against your flushed skin doesn’t shock you. Just feels like another home. His hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt feel like home. His tongue licking into your mouth tastes like home. When he pulls away to say, “I know you remember the time in the kitchen, the way I fucked your mouth,” you lose all concept of home entirely.
Home is just Yoongi. Everything is Yoongi.
“I fucked you in that bed so many times. Against the bathroom sink. Always so good for me.” He’s thumbing over a nipple, embarrassingly hardened from the husk of his voice, the way his cock is filling out in his joggers. “Where’d we miss, baby?”
You swallow. Know it’s audible even over the sound of the television. People are cheering, but you aren’t turning around to look, because what could they possibly have to cheer for when they don’t have Yoongi? When Yoongi only looks at you like this—like he’s already a little crazed, a little fucked up?
“The st-studio,” you choke out. Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. Not a drop of champagne made it past your lips and still the world spins.
You can feel Yoongi’s smirk against the column of your throat. Hate what it does to you, because Yoongi could talk you off a ledge when he’s like this. “Ah, you’re right.” Fingers trail along the hem of your pants, toying with you. “Is that what you want? You wanna ride me in my chair? You want it fucking dirty like that, my sweats barely pulled down, like you’re fucking desperate for it?”
You are, and you do.
So that’s how Yoongi fucks you. Gives you exactly what you want: sits in his oversized chair, pulls you into his lap. Sweats pushed down only as far as he needs to fish his cock out, slick it up, and then he’s pushing inside of you. Groans loud, tells you how tight you are, how wet and warm. And it’s stupid, because your husband is fucking your brains out, but there’s a little window in his studio, just above his desk.
Through it, you can see the Christmas lights the two of you spent the afternoon putting up.
You can hear Yoongi’s grumbling in your head, all his shouting when he thought he was going to fall off the ladder even though you were holding it steady. Cursed about not having enough zip ties. Cursed about one lightbulb being burnt out. Cursed when the extension cord wasn’t long enough. Only stopped cursing when you shut him up with a kiss.
You come hard. Yoongi makes good on his promise.
Another home.
(From the living room, the muted sounds of a countdown. Palpable excitement you’re finally able to feel, last year’s numbness long gone and replaced with endless warmth. Yoongi only leaves to grab a warm washcloth from the bathroom, and then he’s cleaning you up and pressing his lips back to your kiss-reddened mouth. There’s a supercut playing in your head, all the past celebrations. All the parties the two of you have gone to, the years spent alone but together. All the people you’ve kissed in front of. All the quiet, private ways Yoongi used to tell you he loved you. When was the last time? Just minutes ago. There’s seven seconds until the new year and Yoongi is right beside you.
Fireworks explode outside. You cry this year, too, but they’re happy tears. They’re tears that serve as proof you survived, that you went through hell and made it to the other side. Yoongi sheds a few of his own. Laughs, almost disbelieving, as he tells you he loves you. Smiles, certainly disbelieving, when you repeat it.
You’re going to miss this place when you leave, but there’s a ring on your finger and a man beside you that tells you home can be anywhere, be anything. Tells you that sometimes you’ll have to fight for it, but it’ll always be there so long as you choose to.)
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if you've made it this far, i'd like to say thank you again for reading this. as i said, this fic is deeply personal to me, and i hope you find something relatable in it as well.
i know people don't always love to read the members in westernized settings, and i completely understand. i chose oakhurst/yosemite because it's where i went for my own honeymoon, and, well, personal.
i'd love to hear your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. ♡
1K notes · View notes
hoseoksluna · 2 months
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STORY | knj
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pairing: soft dom!namjoon x reader
genre: smut
word count: 7.8k
summary: yours and namjoon’s story is a bit more perverted than traditional.
warnings: serious big dick namjoon, rough touches, hair pulling, use of pet names and titles, dom/sub dynamics, horny namjoon can't help but palm himself:(, desperation, masturbation, spanking, praising, tit slapping, nipple play, teasing, oc and namjoon not being comfortable with certain practices, playful orgasm denial, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), rimming && ass play :3, cum eating yum yum, tit fucking, orgasm countdown fuck
note: smut is so fucking difficult to write but i loved every second of it. i love writing about namjoon, he just makes me feel so safe. this is purely my fantasy with him and i'll probably dream about this for a long, long time. please, take your time reading this as it's pretty long. i hope you enjoy it and that it makes you dream like it made me dream. as always, let me know what you think in the comments, like the post and if you want to—reblog, but i won't pressure you angels <3. love you guys so much, thank you for all the love. kisses!
side note: i miss namjoon and i wish he were here. all i can do is watch his lives and pretend he never left for the military.
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Namjoon makes himself comfortable on the wooden chair before you.
The scene is set. Like a mermaid bathing in the sun, you rest your elbows on the cold rim of the ivory bathtub. Small surges of violet-tinted water, perfumed with your scent, blanket your body in a thin layer of glittery sheen. They kiss the tiger stripes along the curve of your bottom as it rolls over, passing by the dip in the small of your waist, breathing in your patchouli fragrance in greeting. The bath bomb, cornered by your knees, sizzles and spins, the width of the tub allowing your form to float like a little fish in the open sea as copiously as you please.
A gift from your loving boyfriend. Both the clawfoot, and the bath bomb.
The scene expands. Your Eric slouches in his seat, balancing his greatest and most stellar possession on top of his lap with one hand while he runs the other through his silver mane. He fits perfectly in the picturesqueness of the background. Soft orange and chocolate tiles zig zag behind his back, transposing him momentarily into a sunlit illustration, where he rests in the shade of a palm tree on a faraway beach. Reads the book to pass the time as he waits for you to emerge from the waters. Sets it down on his lap as soon as his gaze catches yours. Periwinkle clams for a bra, panties thin and translucent from the oncoming waves, you rest your front on the sand. He smiles down at you and you know for a fact you won’t be able to get on your feet. Might have to learn how to walk, too.
You keep this picture in your heart. Mentally, you rip out the page. Fold it and tuck it somewhere within you to keep it safe.
Legs outstretched by the sides of the tub, clad in slacks in the muted color of a persimmon, it’s almost as though you’re propped on his lap. Sporting a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled, you’re close enough to touch the material if you so much as wished so. From his angle, Namjoon sees nothing but the roundness of your eyes through the brownish rims of his glasses, hair unkempt in their dampness as the short paper thin layers frame your flushed face in such a celestial way. If he were to lean over, it’d be a different kind of book.
The one in the clasp of his hand isn’t a tale as old as time.
It’s one of your favorites. An existential story that ridicules the traditional. A transfusion of liveness to a certain forgotten room of your heart. The unlit one while the others brim with sunlight, with the golden sepia projection of the contents of the fairytales you love so much made into stop motion. A coloring book of some sort, hues fitting into the lines by your helping hand—the attention of your eyes. 
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. The book that sweeps away all those cobwebs in that chamber. Makes it less lonely.
It’s all you had talked about on your dates when you and Namjoon first started dating, having been reading it at the time. You had confided in him that the writer was the only person who understood you without ever learning your name, without familiarizing himself with the subtleties of your calamitous life.
No one has ever shared something so vulnerable with him, especially not on the first date. Not that he’d gone on many, but the few that fell into his grasp were hell to get through. Insufferable, to say the least. Absolutely superficial.
He went home in the rain thinking of you. Not for boyish reasons. But for reasons of literary character, of melancholy nature that squeezed his long-unexpressed heart in perpetuating intervals too consistent for his liking. Filled it with a nectar bubbling with a newly blooming love for books, with a sudden longing to be found within the words. His body decided for him that it was yours. Yours to teach again how to read between the lines.
The scene breaks out of the margins on the page.
“Is the water warm enough?”
The idea constructed by his own geniality, it’s by his will that you’re basking in your bare femininity before his eyes. Idleness lingered in the living room between the pair of you, the flimsy curtain by your balcony lifting and falling in a little dance as the cold air perfused the place with the drowsiness of winter. Pulling his eyes away from the TV to sink a soft kiss into your hair, Namjoon muttered into your ear: “How about I draw you a bath and read to you for a little bit?”
You said nothing. The click of your phone turning off and your hasty movements to untangle yourself from the warmth of his limbs answered him for you. Leaving your clothes as a trail for him to follow, you gave him a glimpse of your ass, arched and pointed in the draft before you ran away. Before he scolded you with his index finger like a father, raising to his feet to close the balcony door.
In two seconds he joined you in the bathroom. Leaned against the doorframe as you circled a pink roll-on lip oil you’ve been obsessed with lately around the perimeters of your lips. The one that makes them look bigger, juicier. That makes them more fun to kiss and toy with. The one that leaves his length sticky once playtime is over. You seem to cast aside little trinkets of yourself for him to collect everywhere you go.
Tits pushed towards each other while you slightly bent over the vanity sink, tapping the excess into the fullness of your mouth, Namjoon palmed himself. The tiredness from work earlier weakened his self-control to the point of unrestrained indulgence. And the plumpness of your ass just encouraged it.
You fluffed your hair and Namjoon ran the bath. Disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve the purple bath bomb from the plastic bag on the counter, one that he got from the convenience store for you. Dragon fruit and hibiscus. Thought of the twinkle that would sparkle beneath your lashes upon seeing it. Wasn’t disappointed when you exceeded his expectations.
Having seen it in the mirror, almost microscopic and round in his big palm, you turned on your heel and burst into giddiness as he took off the plastic packaging with his teeth. You pouted in gratefulness when he showed it to you. 
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
You hugged him, locking your hands behind the nape of his neck. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, and he told you so. A bit hoarsely, though.
Namjoon struggled not to moan. Groaned a little when he felt the curvature of your belly against his hardness and the pointed nubs of your tits beneath his pecs. Managed to conceal it, thankfully, by clearing his throat and by allowing an authentic grin to bloom on his dimpled face at your joy. Thanked the heavens for all the bath bombs in the world.
He placed it in your much smaller palm for you to plop it into the increasing water. Watched your eyes widen at the gilded glitter spreading around. Spurred you to get in. Held your hand as you lifted one limb, then the other. Knelt by you as you engulfed yourself in the violet tinge, your hair swirling around you, silky and ethereal, coming to a stop at the top of your head to fix a splendid crown for such a princess like yourself.
Namjoon turned off the tap while you rested your back against the curved wall of the tub. You swooshed your hands around, gathering the glitter into the fine lines of your palms. Looked up at him in elation, the twinkle doing its thing in the glossiness of your eyes, and smiled. Namjoon smiled back at you. His hand reached out to your chest in a fervent need to touch you. The glitter adorned your chest with its perfect speckles and they resurfaced when you arched your back in response. Clung to his palm in the middle of your tits, held on tighter as he took a detour to your chin by brushing across your sensitive nipple to hear your little mewls because if he made a sound, then you must, too. Because if he was horny, he must get you on the same page as well. Fairness is very important to Namjoon.
He squeezed your breast hard. Pinched your nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger in broken intervals, similar to little dashed lines of Morse code. You imagined he was telling you something through that secret language as you closed your eyes during an intense wave of pleasure coursing down your body, and perhaps he truly did because he pulled your legs apart harshly when you pressed them together. Punished you by lightly slapping your tit—the same one he abused with those firm touches—the force splashing you in the face with violet pearls. All as if you disobeyed the command he transmitted wordlessly.
The command possibly being: Only I will give you the release you need when I decide it’s time.
You bit your bottom lip to suppress the neediness erupting in you. Namjoon wrapped his hand around your throat and you dragged his rolled sleeve further up his arm, so it wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the water. He smeared your lip oil just because he wanted—just because he could, scattering the rosy tint around your mouth messily. He took advantage of the aftermath of his punishment and collected those tender beads, now translucent upon your carmine skin. Not with the thumb as you expected him to, but using the pillows of his lips, he kissed the round bulb on your cheek. It melted on the puffy surface when he withdrew. He looked you in the eye for a mere beat of time before he lowered to your other cheek to collect another trinket. None of the corners of your mouth were overlooked, not even the button of your nose. He peppered those kisses to erase the harshness of his selfishness, supporting your lifted chin with his long thumb beneath it, still sticky from the consistency of the lip oil, apologizing, smoothing down his sternness until you giggled.
Once he cleaned you, Namjoon returned the digit to your smudged mouth, delicious in his sight due to the essence of sloppiness that gets his length even harder in his pants. He presses the pad against it, already craving your tongue. You kissed it, a thank you for his softness, before you granted him the access. Tongue toying with the tip, you said hello in the mother language of the love stored in your bodies for each other. Wrapped both of your hands around his wrist. Didn’t break eye contact. Smiled, teeth showing happily, when he bit his lip, but soon got distracted by a small movement on his groin area out of your view.
You peeled your back off of the tub to curiously take a peek, but Namjoon pushed you back to your place. All while his thumb remained sucked by your mouth. You frowned at him, dismayed by his recurring roughness that you weren’t used to.
Namjoon tapped your cheek twice with his fingers to let you know it was enough and rose to his feet.
“Joon, what’s going on? Why are you so rough with me?” you asked, voice tender, the question shooting arrows into the wideness of his back.
Stopping in the doorway, he hung his head, fingers coming to intertwine with the short hair above his neck. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me get the book.”
A moment later, he returned with the stellar possession in one hand and a wooden chair in the other. He slumped against it, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly.
You swam forward as if to the shore, propping your elbows on the rim to be closer to him.
“Is the water warm enough?”
You nod, your teeth picking at the excess skin on your lips. Namjoon notices and, as if registering the reason why you put on the lip oil in the first place, he leans towards you and rubs away the smudginess he caused. As if the walk into your dining room sobered him enough from the dark wine of his lust that he now regretted his actions.
“You really scared me when you were rough,” you said calmly, unafraid to uncover your feelings, knowing you’ll be caught now that you’ve jumped head-first into the hungry sea of honesty.
He apologizes again. Repeats it in the aphonic form of a deep chaste kiss.
“Won’t do it again,” he promises. “Unless you ask me to.”
Your lips form a smile, but it quivers into a straight line just as quickly as it appeared. The yet unknown cause behind his untypical behavior troubles you.
“Did something happen today at work?”
Namjoon sighs. “No, I’m just tired.”
“Just tired or tired of your job?” you try, tilting your head to the side, remembering this isn’t the first time quiet broodiness clutched his figure when the clock struck five.
“Both.” He kneads the heel of his palm against his eye. 
Not expecting his honesty, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It propels you to investigate further. Gives you the green light. Namjoon usually keeps to himself when it comes to work-related storms, holding respect that reaches the bottom of his heart for those above him and for his peers as well.
“Did someone make you upset?” you ask, paving your way in this inquiry to the realm of understanding so you can help him. At least in a small way.
He drops his hand, gazes up the ceiling to stare at a fixed point. Perhaps he’s looking for words, perhaps he’s avoiding the question altogether. The regret of your prying swallows you. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped a boundary. 
You reach out your arm, wrapping wet fingers around his wrist on his lap. The gesture says, ‘you don’t have to tell me but I’m here,’ and you squeeze the limb to emphasize that. As if he heard you, he looks down at you. His eyes that are usually narrowed into slits now round in tenderness. The swallowing lets go, the lump that threatened to obstruct your throat disappears.
“It’s Friday, Joonie, and you can forget about your job for a little while. It’ll get better,” you say, caressing his soft skin.
To your another surprise, Namjoon nods. Slips his fingers into the hollowness between yours, squeezing back, saying, ‘I hear you.’ Your heart jumps with gladness that you haven’t made a mistake, that instead your reassurement made a difference.
To lighten up the atmosphere, you begin to joke around.
“Should I beat them up?” You raise your brow in mischief, a goofy smile coating your face in lightheartedness.
A grin cracks on his face. “Don’t get your hands dirty for me, baby.”
You scoff, half-seriously and half-unseriously shaking your head at his eagerness to please but never letting himself be pleased. “But I want to. I’ll do it for you.”
Namjoon shakes his head as well. Leans over to you. Cradles your head in his hands and kisses you. Picks the hair plastered on your face and puts it away. You forget all of your jokes for a moment, breathless. Your neediness nudges you in your sensitive parts, reminding you of its lingering presence. 
“Come on, Joonie,” you coo, prolonging the vowels, the best you could come up with considering his allure, “I’ll fight them,” you start to construct your imaginary plan, the dimples adorning his face making it a bit harder for you to get the words out, “then, they’ll be scared of me and they won’t bother you again. Because if they do, I’ll smash their fucking teeth in. And then… then, you’ll get your peace for good. Easy.”
Namjoon listens with his features bathed in enamoredness, seemingly lost in a deep thought. A twinkle, a twin to yours, glistens in his eyes. Dimples out provoking you, he softly smiles at you. Coyly. He’s unaccustomed to being the one fought for. He’s always been the one who fights. The one who settles, resolves, makes things right. He’s never been the person these things are done for by another person. It makes his heart pulsate in a strange new rhythm. 
He stretches out his hands and runs his fingers through your hair. Begins to plait an intricate braid down your back, keeping you caged in the confines of his arms. Safe. Protected. His warrior princess.
“There’s something else you can do for me,” he mumbles, finished with your braid. Now your hair is away from your face, just like he needs it for what he’s about to do.
“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow in question, your smirk growing on the side of your face. “Like what?”
“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispers into your ear, shoulders hunched, lips tracing the edge of your earlobe. A secret just between the two of you. “My body’s confused. I need a release.”
Even though you saw it coming, even though you saw it a hundred times before, you can’t help but gasp at his desperation, bare and open before you. It’s a new experience each time. Thrilling and titillating, the vividness and ferocity of his sexuality. It causes a flock of playful butterflies to buzz you with electricity in your tummy and a shiver to run down your spine. You feel your own neediness making itself known again and you squeeze your thighs together. 
This is the Namjoon you know. Strong in his softness. Mellow. Intense. The Namjoon who showed you plain roughness was a stranger to you, one you could take the time to get to know, because now you understand that the incentive to act like he did was his frustration from work. You can’t really blame the natural inclination of his body—his body that is yours to love in all shapes or forms.
You perceive he needs to let out some steam—he said so himself. Proud of him for voicing it out, a decision to be his helper already makes a way to your heart. You no longer feel slivers of consternation slithering in your veins. Knowing the cause, knowing it’s still your Namjoon helps you submit to the call of his needs. If a dab of roughness is what entails the sand-speckled footpath to the seaside of his well-being, you’ll take it. Welcome it, even. Within the realm of your established boundaries, that is. 
“Can I see?”
The book falls to the floor with a thud. Namjoon stands up. 
Ever so eager. Responding to his body language out of pure instinct, you hum and lift yourself to your knees. The outline of his engorged length, tight in his pants, greets you and you will your brain not to tell your fingers to rub your swollen clit. To busy your hands, you grip the rim until white brushes along your knuckles.
Emerging from the water, it left you smothered in a luster of wet silkiness. Namjoon’s eyes rake over your bare femininity. Heavenly, pure, seraphic. Groans a little loud. Doesn’t know whether to touch you first or his painfully hard and heavy member. You move your body to the side wall of the tub and he follows you, hand opting for his girth to relieve himself a little bit. 
You sit prettily on your folded legs and lean over, pulling his wrist away. You plant a dewy kiss to the middle of his clothed length and look up at him, just at the right time to catch him whimpering. Your clit pulses again and you feel like crying, needing release as much as he does. He doesn’t make it easy for you, making sounds like that.
“What does my baby girl need me to do?” you ask, stroking his member while stifling your giggles at the title that fits him so well. 
“Baby girl?” He frowns down at you. 
It’s usually what he calls you, hence why his confusion. And you call him by an entirely different title, too.
A giggle does escape your mouth after all. You squeeze at his tip, drawing those delicious whimpers out of him again.
“Only needy little baby girls make sounds like that. You are needy, aren’t you?” You lick that sensitive part, palming his balls. 
Namjoon whines. 
The shift of dynamics, the change of titles ever so dizzying to the mind. He doesn’t even have the strength to correct you. 
He grips the back of your head and moves you away from his cock. Then the realization he’s being rough again wafts over him and he softens his hold, fallen stray hairs coming to rest at your temples. Namjoon tucks them behind your ear. Taps you on the cheek once.
“Get to sucking off your baby girl,” he rasps. 
You smile. Find it immensely attractive that he’s embracing the pet name while still being dominant. A masculinity in its true form.
“You can be rough with me if you want to,” you say, wanting to make that clear. “I think I can handle it.”
Namjoon traces the shell of your ear with his thumb, pondering.
“Just don’t hit me, okay?” 
He says your name sternly, as if you offended him. “I would never deliberately hurt you. How can you think that?” 
“No, I meant—” You lick your lips. “Don’t slap my boobs or anything. You can spank me, I like that. But don’t be as rough with me as you were. Can we take it slow? Is that okay?”
He stares at you for a moment.  
“Do you trust me?”
You nod, turning your head to press a kiss into his palm. “Yes, I trust you.”
“I’ll teach you, then. We’ll take it slow,” he says, fingers stroking the side of your cheek, where a small amount of fluff creates a path for him to lay down his silent love on. “It was a mistake on my part for not preparing you for it, and for that I’m sorry. But I’ll teach you. Show you how good it is.” He pauses. “Until you beg me for it.”
Your throat dries up. The pulsing in your cunt unbearable. 
“Fuck, Namjoon. Save the talk or I’ll come on the spot.” 
“The talk is important,” he reprimands you. “Whether you come or not without my permission is your problem.” 
“Shit,” you whimper, gripping his hand on your cheek. You tighten your hold as if to brattily change his mind on having this kind of control over your orgasm because you need to come as soon as possible. And not just once. You’re sure your dewiness is leaking into the water. 
“No bad words or I’ll fuck your filthy mouth.” 
You gasp. So unused to this side of him. But it turns you on, now that you feel safe. Turns you unstable.
“Say you’re sorry.”
You’re tumbling out the words before he’s even finished with his sentence. “I’m so sorry.”
He beams at your immediate submission, purring at the quintessence of your compliance. Wants more. “Who are you apologizing to?” 
You pause. His usual title almost slips off of your tongue. But since this is new and you’re both experiencing a new dynamic that causes you to feel so playful, that guides you ever so gently and carefully into the kingdom of subspace, you opt for the pet name that suits him well. “To my baby girl,” you say, laughing softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” 
He laughs as well, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. You’re giddy that you’re allowed to be wild, your inner child healing and quivering within you. You overflow with the desire to kiss him.
“What for?”
He wants you to say the full sentence. You take a deep breath. 
“Baby girl, I’m so sorry for having a filthy mouth and saying bad words.”
“Hm, do you regret it?” 
You almost curse again. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry for being bad.”
“Good. Get to work, then,” he says. “Make that mouth useful.”
Fuck.
“Kiss me first, please. Make it better,” you beg, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 
Namjoon moans and you bite your lip. Bends and sucks it between his, deepening the kiss as he opens your jaw and slips his tongue inside. Massages the muscle against yours. Makes those sounds again. Palms his cock. Withdraws with a pop. 
You mewl in satisfaction. That kiss alone ruined you. 
“Good girls get kisses.” Hand under your chin, he squishes your cheeks. “You’ve been exceptionally good. I’m gonna destroy you.” 
He kisses you again with the same intensity but briefly, inhaling your skin. No tongue this time. 
Cheeks awash with rosiness, you hastily unbuckle his belt. Not to cut time and get to his promise faster—on the contrary, you’re dying to pleasure him. He doesn’t help you like he normally does; he merely watches you as you pull down the cotton material of his slacks along with his boxers down his muscular thighs. Only when you wrap your lips around his cock from the side does he throw his head back. Thrusts his hips. 
He’s rock hard. The weight of him makes you absolutely fucked out.
Namjoon likes you there so he keeps you still—there in the middle of his girth. You moan, producing as much saliva as you can to gratify him while he uses your mouth, alternating between keeping those pillows firm and soft. When he gets you to his tip, he expects you to swallow him, but you merely move your head from side to side rapidly, flicking your tongue. Namjoon groans lowly, a string of curse words spilling from his throat. His precum drops onto your chin and you suck in a breath, horny beyond your mind.
You swipe your index finger to collect it. Check if he’s watching before you plunge the digit into your mouth. Roll your eyes back as the tanginess overwhelms your senses. Namjoon hisses. Grabs your braid as if it were a ponytail. Kisses you, aching to be one with you. You feel the vibrations of his fervid mania in unity with him like this and it echoes down your body once he pulls away. 
“Take it in your mouth.” 
Namjoon holds it at the base for you and you find the long vein that you favor so much. Pepper kisses along the length of it, feeling it throb in tandem with your clit. Straightening your spine, you bite your lip. Give him an utter look of adoration before you swipe your tongue along the slit. Humming in delight, you slip him into your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and you begin to bob your head, fingers following your movement, bumping into his fist. Tears pool in your eyes when you dare to inch closer to his hand and even though you gag, you try your hardest to keep him nice and tucked in your warm throat. You sputter and cough, swallowing around him, because you deem he deserves it, knowing how much he loves it when your flesh contracts around him like that, and Namjoon groans deeply. It fills you with a dose of satisfaction almost akin to an orgasm, the lack of oxygen in your brain heightening the experience so much that your head spins. 
“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”
He slips out of your mouth. Pats you on your head before he sinks his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots. Ascertains you pay attention to him. 
“Don’t do that again,” he says, softly. “You need to breathe. Take a deep breath with me.”
You’re still on your knees and he’s merely looking down at you. You fold your hands on your lap. Your mind is so empty that you’re not sure how you feel right now, having been entirely focused on his pleasure. 
Namjoon inhales deeply with his nose and you do the same.
Inhale, exhale. 
Fondly, he caresses you on your cheek.
“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you explain yourself, thinking that you should.
“I know, baby, and you did. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you.” He smiles at you. “You hear me? I’m not mad at you.”
You nod your head yes. Pout. 
“You feeling okay? Take a deep breath for me again.” 
You do as he says, your senses returning to you like a warm spring wind. 
“Better now?”
You nod again.
“Words.”
You wet your lips with your tongue. “Yes, I feel better now.”
“Good. Do you still wanna continue?”
“Yes, Namjoon. I wanna make you come.” 
Almost like you flipped a switch, his eyes darken. 
“Hands behind your back,” he rasps. 
You oblige, crisscrossing your wrists below the dimples on your lower back.
“‘Atta girl. Back to work, come on.” 
It’s much harder to do so without your hands, especially in the position you’re in. You hesitate.
“I don’t know if I can,” you admit. 
He tuts in pity. “Should I use you then?”
You roll your eyes back, the idea intoxicating your body. You feel woozy. 
“Yes, please.” 
“Focus on your breathing, okay?” 
“Yes, Namjoon.”
Humming, Namjoon grabs your hair gently and sinks your mouth down on his cock, moves you up and down slowly. You focus on not just sucking in your cheeks but also on breathing through your nose like he told you, although you can’t help but moan around him. It turns you on how he manhandles you to his liking so delicately. You swirl your tongue around his tip once he wants you there and you let out a series of whines and whimpers. He keeps you there for a little longer, moaning after you, the sounds creating a paradisiacal symphony. You twist your head in half circles as you continue sucking him, slobbering all over him, using your tongue to flick beneath the mushroom. 
“So good, baby. Yes, fuck.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re gonna make me come.” 
You pull away, but a string of saliva still connects you to him. 
He blinks at you. “You want a spanking?” 
You run the tip of your tongue along the top of your lip, giving him the eyes. Cock your eyebrow at him. Namjoon draws a sharp breath in. 
He leans over. One hand tugs at your braid firmly to arch your back over the edge of the tub. The other smacks you sharply on your ass cheek, smoothing over the sting. You moan, nipples rubbing over the cold surface, curse words dying on your tongue. Namjoon grips the flesh, spanks you again. Skims his fingers over your exposed heat. Repeats it on the other cheek, twice in a row. You wiggle your hips, needing to feel more, needing him to touch you right there between your legs. You cry out into his ear.
Letting go of your braid, Namjoon kisses you beneath your jaw. Slides his tongue along the sensitive spot, sucking it between his lips. A secret message that he hears you, that he’ll fuck your needy cunt soon.
“Think you’ll be a good girl for now?” 
Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod a few times. Not a single rational thought passes through your brain. 
Namjoon straightens. Pulls down his foreskin for you. “Spit on it.” 
You watch as your liquid love trickles down and lands on his tip. He hums and surprises you by wrapping your hands around his girth, spreading down the lubrication with you. You feel the ridges and the thick vein in a new, vehement way and even though you’re not the one pleasured, you moan. The simple up and down movement grows in rapidness that your body follows, emulating the effort, making it seem like you’re bouncing on a dick. Your ass splashes the water around, creating tender waves full of love, inherited from your still leaking dewiness. 
His hands are so warm enclasped around yours, pressed tight. Not once unclenching.
You start blabbering. 
“You’re so big. I can’t even wrap my hand around you.” You make sure to look him in the eyes as you say it. “So big in my mouth, too. Could barely fit you.” 
Your words set those twilit embers in his eyes on fire. His breathing quickens. He’s close again and you’re stunned, once more, by the vividness of his sexuality. Your hands go limp in his grasp.
“Nuh-uh, keep up the pace,” he husks. “Thought I was your little baby girl?” 
You shake your head, willing your hands to gain strength again, but it has no source to draw from. “Not anymore.”
Namjoon chuckles, darkly. Notices your movements fluctuating, arms shaking. “Tired?”
You nod and he unclasps his hands. You twist your wrists in circles to alleviate them from a cramp. 
Then, you get an idea.
Sitting back on your heels, you arch your back. Tip your chin down and spit on your chest, the essence flowing down the pathway between your breasts. You do it again, though this time you spread it on your skin. 
“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon mumbles. Unbuttons his shirt. You squeeze your nipples with both hands as your eyes flick to his, then down to his exposed chest. “How are you gonna address me, huh? What’s my name?”
He forcefully tugs the fabric off of his arms, tossing it on the floor. His body—with its vulgar beauty, broadness and definition—takes your breath away. You don’t let it show, or perhaps you pretend that you don’t because you allow your hand to travel down your stomach. Namjoon imitates you, running his fingers down the chiseled muscles that make you drool. He stops at the hair adorning his pelvis. You don’t.
You rub circles on your clit instead.
“Daddy,” you cry out in pleasure, announcing his title—his rightful, most fitting title. Face contorting at the brisk, blooming flashes of sensuality rising up your form.
His body tenses. It’s like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you, pulling you out of the bathtub and spanking you until your bottom resembles the water. Or tugging at his length until he paints you white with his cum. 
You make it easy for him. 
Lifting your body, you step over the edge of the bathtub. Kneel at his feet on the fluffy black mat. Far enough for him to see purple liquid pearls make their way down to your cunt. Far enough for him to see how you resume those circles on your bundle of nerves, fingers reaching to your hole for lubrication. You roll your hips into your hand, arm propped behind you.
“What’s this show?” Namjoon rasps, his cock twitching. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch yourself. You wanna end up with zero orgasms?”
You pause. 
“That’s what I thought,” he says. “I believe you have unfinished work to do.” 
You smile mischievously. “You want it bad, don’t you?” 
Namjoon nods. Holds out his hand. “Come to Daddy.”
Exuberantly, you leap into his arms. Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and walks into your shared bedroom. Sets you down on your bed, spreading your legs, and he crouches between them, reaching into his bedside table for the tool that he wants. 
The aroma of strawberries lovingly boops you on the nose. Namjoon squirts a good amount of lubrication on your chest, paying special attention to the pathway in the middle of your breasts. He massages it in, incorporates your sensitive nipples in the preparation, coaxing whimper after whimper out of you by squeezing them and rolling them between his long fingers.
“I’m gonna make a mess,” you say, grinding your hips against nothing.
Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Already?” 
Your dewiness oozes out of you onto the bedding. To prove your point, you lean back on your elbows and lift your knees, revealing your dripping hole and the shine of your soaked folds. Namjoon stares at your cunt but doesn’t touch, doesn’t blink. He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes to yours. 
He kisses the middle of your tummy. Moves over to your heat. Licks a tiny stripe on your clit.
You cry out.
“Namjoon!”
Hands on either side of your waist, crawling up to you, he growls. “Good girls are patient, aren’t they?” 
He doesn’t wait for your response. 
“They take what is given to them and they finish what they started,” he continues. “Don’t they?”
You nod.
“And you are a good girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m a good girl.” 
“Then thank your Daddy for what he gave you.” 
Your walls squeeze around nothing when you hear him utter his title. It refreshes your body with energy. 
“Thank you, Daddy.” You smile. 
Namjoon kisses you, rewarding you.
“Sit up.”
Changing the layout, it’s Namjoon who reclines halfway on the bed while you sit perched on your knees between his legs, cock in your face. He spurts the lube on his length and jerks himself off, his skin shining in the abrupt spillage of burnt-orange sunlight from the window. Watches your eyes round in astonishment similarly to the way they did earlier when you had gazed upon the glitter swarming around you. 
He nods at you, giving you the green light, and you sheathe his girth into the tightness of your squished tits. You may start a face pace from the get go, fucking him into oblivion, but all Namjoon sees is the whites of your eyes, the glimmer, the pure enjoyment of what you’re doing while the rest of you is immersed in subdued late afternoon shadows. Sweat glistens on the planes of his face, dribbling down to the strained column of his neck.
It’s intense. So intense that he can’t vocally react. 
Precum appears once more on his mushroom, displaying his arousal, and you slurp it up, the braid coming undone—your hair falling around you like a curtain. 
It’s brutal. It’s wet. 
Namjoon gathers your hair to the side in a makeshift ponytail and leans over to be closer to you. Needs you like this. Feels his relief catching up to him the more effort you put in, the more you stick out your tongue to flick at that sensitive part of him whenever you can. 
“Want your come. So bad. Want it all over me,” you whisper, and that’s it for him. 
“Say please,” he murmurs, and it’s barely a sound, but you hear him. 
“Please, Daddy, come for me.” 
Pulling your hands away, Namjoon takes charge. Fucks your tits in frenzy, your hair, now half dry, tickling your skin. With his thumbs, he stimulates your nipples to coax those little sounds of yours and—
“Play with your pussy,” he commands. “But don’t come. Tease yourself like you teased Daddy.”
The relief on your face inches him closer to his. He hears the wetness as you dip a finger in, your walls sucking it in. He hears your breath get stuck in your throat. The slow crescendo of your moans. Suddenly, he hears himself too. 
Whiny, desperate, so unlike himself.
It’s a fortress of safety, his forehead on top of yours. His nose bumping against yours. Open mouth ghosting over the sounds of your well-deserved pleasure. It’s a safe place for him to come in.  
And he does. 
Ropes upon ropes of come color you ivory white, color you clean. The reversal of a coloring book—changing the lines, changing the scheme, changing your life. 
You milk him dry, your pussy long forgotten. Milk him until he pushes you away, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath. You just watch him, his seed hot on your chest. Glittery. And not just there. On your neck, on your chin, in the wavy strands of your hair. 
You’re in awe of him. You can see the pressure leaving him like a ghost slinking out of the window. 
Namjoon takes off his glasses. With two fingers, he collects as much of his essence as he can and plunges them into your mouth. The other hand rests on the crook of your neck, thumb protectively over your throat. “Swallow.”
Not for long. Namjoon throws you on the bed. Doesn’t waste time.
He laps up your pussy, clit to hole, sucking your labia into his mouth. He does it again, but this time he travels a bit further. Clit, hole, ass. Tongue flat. Your screams are muffled by the rumpled bedsheet you grip.
Going back to your leaking hole, he circles the flesh before he dips the tongue in. Wraps his arms around your ass to control your squirming, feeling the dip of your spine as the sunlight kisses it. Dust particles spiral in the air—Namjoon sees it. The dark grey curtain keeping half of the world shrouded in dimness while the other illuminated, a picture cut in a heart shape due to the deliciousness of your ass. 
Fuck, Namjoon longs to play with it again. 
He spits on it, rubbing the saliva around it before he slides his tongue back into your wet hole. Says hello to it—long time no see—teases it, before he dips his thumb in. You arch your back even more, welcoming the intrusion, and Namjoon kisses your pussy lips as a thank you. He quivers with the craving to fuck you right there in your ass, but knows better than to do it. You’re not ready for it. 
Spreading you more open, while keeping his thumb there in that sweet place, he begins to focus on your poor little clit. Swirls his tongue around it firmly, sucking it until your back trembles—goes up and down like a seesaw. The kisses he leaves there are obscene, loud, full of thankfulness that he gets to play with you. Full of love for you that he burns bright with—that propels him to flick his tongue harder. And full of joy that his stress is gone. Joy that you’ve been the helper unscrewing the steel body of heaviness off of his because, as of now, his bones feel lighter.
“You’re so good for me.” He smacks his lips against your cunt. “Fucking Daddy like that when he needed you.” 
Vigorously, he rubs his face against you, shaking his head from side to side. You stretch your fingers behind you and helplessly grip the back of your thighs. Namjoon catches one of your hands, holds it with his free four fingers, sucking your clit. 
“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, withdrawing to pay attention to your other hole, missing it. Abuses it once he spits on it, eating it, dipping his tongue in with ease since he stretched you. Fucks you there in the only way he can. 
“Wanna come?” he asks and as he waits for your answer, he goes lower to drink your freshness, not letting a drop go to waste. 
You’ve lost your voice screaming. “Yes, Daddy, please. I can’t hold it in anymore. Please, let me come,” you croak. 
Namjoon makes a sound of appreciation, proud of you for holding out for so long without saying anything.
“I think you can,” he says. Stuffs a finger into your dripping hole and lets you adjust for a moment. Adds another. “I think you can hold it while I count to ten.” 
His digits pump into you slowly. Kneeling by your side, he turns your head so you can see him, twisting your body into the position he wants. The curve of your back is so beautiful in his sight that he can’t help but run his free hand over the route that your spine has become. The route he wants to plant kisses on like flowers of various colors, adding to the coloring book, erasing the old. 
And he does. Begins at the nape of your neck. Picks up the speed.
“One.” 
You cry out. First before your tears rush out, pooling in your waterline. You clench your whole body in naive hope it would stall the orgasm, but it quickens it, squeezing his fingers in, so you relax your muscles. 
“Two.” 
A kiss to the first round protrusion of your spine. Shifting your weight to your shoulder, you take his cock into your hand. 
“Three.”
The middle of your shoulder blades. You hear your wetness oozing out of you, the relief prowling closer. You whine and Namjoon understands.
“Hold it or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers. Relax.” 
You match your pace with his. Namjoon begins to pant. You feel his hot, heavy breath beneath your shoulder blades. 
“Six.” 
Ass shaking from the force, he jackhammers into you. Pulls out for a moment to spank you, a merciful gesture, before he’s back in. Leaves a wet fingerprint on your skin.
“Eight.”
The last protrusion of your spine. You silence your moans by pressing your hand against your mouth because they bring you closer to your orgasm, however Namjoon yanks your arm away. 
“Make those pretty sounds for me, come on,” he huffs, kissing both of those dimples on your back. “Ten. Come. Come for Daddy. Come all over his hand.”
And you do.
It’s a paradise, the heat closing in on you. The loss of hearing, the muted ringing, resembling the flap of a bird’s wing. The loss of surroundings as you’re momentarily transported somewhere entirely else. A gilded illustration, perhaps a lively projection. Something, somewhere, where all is good. The orgasm rips through you and the repetitive echo of his name leaving your mouth is what brings you back. Away from the storybook into a brand new coloring book.
Namjoon strokes your hair. 
He holds you in his arms, but something sticks you uncomfortably together. You peel yourself off of him and cringe. Strings upon strings of his come, gleaming with speckles of glitter, do not want you to leave. You sit on his thighs, resting your palms on his chest. 
He kisses you. “Are you okay?”
You nod with droopy eyelids. 
He carries you into the shower and makes a way for all colors of the rainbow to perfuse your body. To create a new storyline for the day, for the week, for the month. Reds and pinks show their faces first in the steam, and even though Namjoon is glad to see them, he looks forward to meeting the rest. To learning their objectives so he can fulfill them. 
Grabbing the yellow book on the way back to the bedroom, Namjoon makes himself comfortable beside you. Is careful not to touch your face out of habit because you have a face mask on; careful not to bump into you either because you have a plate of mozzarella and sliced tomatoes on your lap. He kisses your hair, though. Doesn’t have the strength to fight internally—grabs your jawline and ever so slowly and heedfully, he kisses you, fingers finding the first chapter unwittingly. 
“When Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from troubled dreams, he found himself changed into a monstrous cockroach in his bed.” 
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© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.
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oddinary4bts · 28 days
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To Give a Helping Hand | jjk (ch 2)
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☆summary: when Jungkook finally approaches you at the gym, he realizes you've been wanting him just as badly as he's been wanting you.
☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)
☆genre: smut, idol!au
☆warnings: unedited, curses, explicit content: mentions of hard drugs (in a metaphor, no character does hard drugs), jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), fantasies about female oral sex (face riding), ball fondling, a tiny bit of marking, exhibitionism (they are in a car?), deep throating ish?, mouth fucking
☆word count: 3.1k
☆a/n: pure unedited sins again bc you guys asked for it and I am far too horny for mr jeon jungkook (thank you, calvin klein). I also wrote this when I was severely depressed and in need of a distraction so my bad if it sucks haha
☆☆☆☆☆
Jungkook watches himself in the mirror. His hair clings to the sweat on his forehead as he curls his arms, the strain enough to make him wince. Yet he pushes through, finishes the motion and then goes for another one.
He always trains until failure. Because it’s the best way to grow muscle, yes, but also because he likes the pain of it. Likes the burn, likes to put his body through the worst.
He knows he can take it.
It helps that you’re just a few benches away, doing some Hungarian squats. Twenty-five-pound dumbbells in each hand, you’ve been going for twelve reps each time, your focus unfaltering as you stare at a spot on the floor in front of you.
Jungkook wishes you’d look at him.
His next bicep curl ends on failure, and he winces as he lets go of the weights, putting them down on each side of the bench. He grabs his water bottle, taking a long swig of it as he looks at your reflection in the mirror.
You’ve got perfect form, your strong thighs pushing up on what he thinks is your fifth – sixth? – rep on your right leg. Your muscles shift under your skin as you move, and Jungkook forces himself to look away.
He doesn’t want to end up with a boner like he did last time. He’s been ashamed of himself somehow, and he doesn’t want to repeat it.
But it’s like you’re keen on teasing him. On being a walking nightmare, with those same devilish biker shorts that fried his brain that time. He’d told himself that he’d approach you, but so far he hasn’t been successful.
Indeed, you’ve suddenly decided to start coming to the gym with a friend, and though your friend is cute, with dark skin that hints at a perfect skincare routine, Jungkook doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you.
But yes, you’re keen on teasing him, doing squats next to him after he’s moved to do shoulder press on the machine. Indeed, despite all the squat racks being empty in the gym right now, you choose  the one right in front of Jungkook, and it’s a battle of will to refrain from looking at your ass each time you’re bending down.
So Jungkook looks up to the ceiling, pushes up, and he clenches his jaw at the strain in his shoulders. It’s a good burn, one he knows will leave him sore, but it’s also one that leaves him thirsty when he finishes his reps. Unfortunately, his water bottle is empty, so he walks to the water station, the music in his earbuds loud.
He’s almost done refilling his bottle when you come up behind him, with your own water bottle in hand. He feels your eyes on his profile and, heart suddenly racing, Jungkook meets your gaze.
You already have a small, knowing smile on your lips when his eyes find yours. Beautiful as ever with your high ponytail, Jungkook finds he gets lost in your gaze, unable to find the exit.
It comes to him when the water in his bottle overflows and he makes a mess on the floor. You chuckle and, despite his cheeks burning, Jungkook faces you fully.
“You come here often?” he asks over the sound of his earbuds, and he quickly takes one out.
If you’re surprised that he’s speaking to you, you don’t let it show. Instead, you raise your water bottle, motioning towards the water station. “Just a couple of times per workout.”
Jungkook feels like an idiot, yet he steps aside to let you fill up your bottle. He doesn’t walk away though, just watches you, and damn if you aren’t even more beautiful from so close.
It isn’t fucking fair.
“I’ve noticed we often come here at the same time,” Jungkook says, scrambling to find something to talk to you about.
You offer him a corner smile as you finish filling up your bottle, twisting the cap back on. “We do.”
He purses his lips, wondering if you can hear the thunder in his chest, and then he says, “I’m Jungkook.”
Your eyes twinkle with mischief, and he wants to curse himself because obviously you know who he is. But you surprise him, replying with your name and a polite bow of your head, and immediately mirrors the motion.
Then he says your name, and he has a feeling it’ll become his favourite word to moan whenever he comes. It’s inevitable – the lust he has for you is clouding his vision even now, as if the rest of the gym is fading out of focus. You don’t disappoint, holding his gaze, lips slightly parted as if you, too, are imagining what it’d be like to be together.
To tangle in bed together, up until the rest of the world cease to exist.
Is it stupid that Jungkook asks for your number next? He doesn’t think so. Especially not as you oblige, putting it into his phone. It feels like a victory – a huge one, one he knows he’ll celebrate in an entirely not appropriate way, yet he can’t stop himself from smiling to you.
It’s like you’ve given him strength to finish his workout grandly. Indeed, he maxes his PR on his next two exercises, and he leaves the gym with a comfortable soreness in his arms and shoulders, right after he’s taken a quick shower.
To his surprise, you’re standing outside, near the building in the dim light of dusk, eyes glued to your phone when he steps out of the gym.
“Need a lift?” he can’t help but ask.
You startle and he does feel bad, up until your features break into a smile that makes his heart race in his chest. “Just waiting for the bus,” you say.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, surprised that you can afford this gym yet use public transport. He wonders, are you the kind of girl who cares about the environment to the point that you decided not to get a car? Something about the thought is adorable, and Jungkook toys with his lip piercings for a few seconds.
“I mean, I really don’t mind lifting you if you need to,” he repeats, hoping with everything in his soul that you’ll say yes.
“I don’t want to be a burden,” you insist, scrunching up your nose cutely. “But thanks for offering.”
He takes a few steps towards you so that you don’t have to speak so loud anymore, desperately looking for something else to say. “Where’s your friend?” he asks, thinking he’s a genius for asking.
“Sera?” you answer, as if he has any clue what your friend is called. “Oh, her boyfriend picked her up earlier.”
“He didn’t offer to drive you?” Jungkook says, not bothering to hide the condescendence in his tone.
You wince. “I fear that’s too much to ask of Yeonseok.”
“Then I really must drive you home,” Jungkook insists, offering you the sweetest smile he can convey.
“And what, find out where I live before you’ve even taken me out on a date?”
It’s like the world stops turning, and all Jungkook can see is you, and that twinkle of mischief lighting your gaze.
“You want me to take you out on a date?” he asks, fully aware of that bright pink Kooky plushie swinging from your keychain right now.
“Who wouldn’t?” you tease.
He narrows his gaze, yet can’t help but play along with you.
He’s been going insane for this moment for weeks after all.
“Then let’s say this is our first date,” he says. “We can drive around and if you like it, I’ll drop you at home, if you don’t I’ll drop you somewhere else. Deal?”
You smile, genuine, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Deal.”
And that’s how Jungkook finds himself in his car with you seated next to him, your head bobbing along to the music on the radio. Though you’re quick to turn towards him, your gaze burning on his profile.
“How long have you wanted to talk to me?”
Jungkook chokes on his saliva, and he coughs as he glances at you, the tip of his ears reddening. “What?”
“You think I haven’t noticed you staring at me every time we work out at the same time?” you tease, and you laugh as he shrugs his shoulders.
“You’ve been putting on a show, it’s not my fault.”
“I have?”
He lets out a non-committal sound that makes you laugh, a crystalline laugh that sounds like he’ll get addicted to it far too easily. Like heroin – one hit and he’s a goner.
As you laugh, you rest your hand on his thigh, giving it a quick, playful squeeze.
Insane. He’s fucking insane for you.
“Listen,” you say after a tense silence with your hand on his thigh. “I really am not looking for a relationship right now.”
He hears the underlying truth – you wouldn’t date an idol. He doesn’t blame you.
It’s not like he plans on ever dating you anyway.
“But if you want some fun, then I’m all in.”
His throat feels dry, and Jungkook wets his lips, glancing at you quickly. The mischief has shifted into pure lust, something he wasn’t expecting he’d see right away.
Hell, he’d imagined he’d have to work for it. But you’re offering yourself on a silver platter, and he’d be fucking dumb to let the opportunity slip away.
“You aren’t what I expected,” he says.
No, you are ten times better.
You run your hand up and down his thigh, head tilted to the side as you look at him. It’s hard to focus on the street in front of him, especially as his dick already starts getting hard.
“I hope that’s a good thing,” you let out on a low, breathy tone that makes him truly lose touch with sanity.
“Have you ever seen the city from the mountains?” he asks seemingly out of the blue.
You pout, glancing towards those you can see in the distance. “On hikes, yeah I have. Why?”
“I know a spot.”
He doesn’t actually, but he ends up finding one anyway after you’ve driven around for a little while. Though you can’t see most of the city from here, it’s still beautiful, twinkling lights looking back at you down in the city.
You admire the view, and Jungkook gets lost admiring you. Your profile is delicate, your hair still just as fluffy and unruly around your head. He instinctively pushes a strand behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek as you meet his gaze.
The car fills with electricity, with an intensity that cannot be ignored, and Jungkook dives in, pressing his mouth on yours. You immediately kiss him back, your hand finding his thigh again, and Jungkook pushes his tongue in your mouth, lapping you up, making the kiss far too languid for his own good.
You let out a breathy sound that makes him see stars, and when your hand shifts closer to his dick, he feels all his blood rushing down. His own hand finds the back of your head, and he tilts his to the side to deepen the kiss, right as he softly grunts.
You’re a good kisser. All lips and tongue, and Jungkook wants to pull you on his lap, to keep on kissing you all night long, but it seems you’ve got other plans in mind. Indeed, you pull away from the kiss, leaving him breathing raggedly as he looks at you quizzically, but then you’re quickly pulling your hair back into a ponytail.
His heartrate skyrockets as he understands what will happen next. It’s like he’s stuck in one of his deepest, darkest fantasies, and you’re jumping right in with him.
You truly are devilish, aren’t you?
When your hair is safely tucked in a ponytail, you meet Jungkook’s gaze. Your eyes shine with undiluted lust, and it steals the breath from his lungs.
To be the receiver of such desire…
He’s going to come far too quickly, isn’t he?
You pat his thigh again, leaning in for another kiss. Jungkook immediately obliges, colliding his mouth with the softness of yours. You palm him through his pants the second he pushes his tongue between your lips again, and Jungkook grunts as he instinctively bucks his hips, seeking for more friction.
“You’re a little impatient,” you say as you pull away, and you glance down at where you’re touching him. “Maybe we should get you out of your pants.”
It doesn’t take more than that to convince Jungkook to push his pants down, and he’s soon sitting there, his dick out in his car as if someone can’t just pull up and see.
Yet the thought turns him on, and Jungkook is infinitely thankful that he took a quick shower at the gym when you grab the base of his dick, jerking him off once.
“You’re so big,” you breathe.
All he can do is grunt as you stroke him again, your grip firm. It feels even better than he imagined. Like heaven – your hand fits perfectly around him, and you expertly flick your wrist whenever you near the top.
All that’s missing is lube, but you’re quick to bend down, blowing a breath on the sensitive tip of his dick.
“Shit,” Jungkook lets out.
“You often get sucked in your car?” you ask like the brat you are.
He can’t reply. Not when you wrap your lips around his tip, and he thinks he’s floating out of his body. Your mouth is wet, warm and so, so soft around him he thinks he might just come already.
“No,” he chokes out as you swirl your tongue around him before pushing down on him, up until he hits the back of your throat.
It takes everything in Jungkook not to buck his hips and fuck your mouth. But he wants to be nice, wants to play nice, if only so that he won’t scare you.
He doesn’t want to lose you before he’s even had you.
He reclines his seat, allowing you a better access, and you reward him with a small moan as you can take more of him in, and it’s enough to make his mind spin with addictive bliss.
You pull away, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick. “Good boy.”
That’s it. He’s a goner. Especially when you truly get to work, offering him the perfect combination of sucking and tongue, of your hand jerking him off in time with the bobbing of your head. He keeps his moans low, more grunts than anything, but when you moan as he hits the back of your throat, Jungkook curses loudly.
“You like this?” you tease, blinking away tears from the gag reflex you’ve been holding in.
“Holy fuck,” he answers, and you laugh lightly before taking him in your mouth once more.
You’re drooling all over him, sucking his soul out of his body, and Jungkook feels his balls tightening.
Already.
“Wait,” he lets out, and you pull away, breathing heavily as you meet his gaze.
“Uh?”
He wipes the drool on your lips, and you immediately suck on his thumb, tongue teasing the pad of the finger. You’re going to fry his brain before the end of the night, aren’t you?
“If you keep sucking me like this I’ll come.”
You smirk, downright lustful. “Isn’t that the point?”
“I want to fuck you,” he says, and he hates that he sounds so pouty, but he can’t help it.
He wants to live every single one of his dirty fantasies with you, after all.
“And I want to know what your cum tastes like,” you counter, squeezing his dick hard.
Jungkook moans, his eyes fluttering shut, his defiance fully leaving him now. If you want him to come in your mouth, then he’ll happily oblige. And then you’re bending down, going back to work as he murmurs your name.
You’re better than he imagined, so much better, and his dick twitches in your mouth as you moan. He feels the vibrations all along his shaft, and he grabs your ponytail, increasing your rhythm. Pushing your head down on him so that you take more of him, and when you don’t complain, instead moaning again, Jungkook stops holding himself back.
He fucks up in your mouth, and your hand flies to his thigh, your nails digging in his skin. The slight pain sets his nerves alight with desire, and he loses himself in you, in the rocking of his hips as he snaps them up in your mouth.
You take him in, holding the gag reflex in, moaning as he establishes a quick rhythm to chase his orgasm. He thinks he’s in love with your mouth – you’re so good, too good to him. He highly doubts he deserves it.
Not when he hasn’t given you anything in return. And he wants to taste you, wants you to sit on his face until he can’t breathe anymore and he gets drunk to the taste of you. It’s that image that brings him closer to his high, so close he already buzzes with it.
You push him over the edge when you grab his balls, gently squeezing. He moans out your name as he comes, unloading his cum deep in your throat as you take over, bobbing your head up and down slowly to milk his orgasm.
And you do milk his orgasm. You fucking do – he’s truly, fully swimming in bliss by the time his dick stops twitching, his balls fully emptied.
You pull away from him, and he thinks he loves your mouth even more when you push your tongue out to show that you swallowed everything. It’s so hot he’d fool himself into going for another round, but the hour is getting late, and he’s got an early morning tomorrow.
“Holy shit,” he lets out.
You laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “That felt good?”
“Fuck, yeah it did.”
You smirk, tilting your head to the side. “Happy to oblige.”
“I’ll have to repay the favour to you one of these days,” Jungkook says, and he hopes you don’t hear the underlying hope in his tone.
He doesn’t want you to think he’s been dreaming about you, about your body for so long.
You wet your lips. “Your place this weekend?”
And though maybe he should say no, as you’re the fan and he the idol, Jungkook answers with, “Bring a bottle of wine.”
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☆☆☆☆☆
Yeah this is pure sin. Porn with practically no plot hahah did we like it? Let me know what you thought!
1K notes · View notes
trivia-yandere · 2 months
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sibling rivalry
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returning from college for break and jungkook loves winning the battle - especially when you thought you could forget about him... @junecat18 @tatyhend @mother2monsters @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @yoongiwantsme @chimmisbae @whipwhoops @prettyxxxplease @shameless-army
word count: 7.109
warning: coercion, blackmail, jealous/possessive jungkook, yandere, pseduo incest, affair/cheating, unsolicited touching/groping/grinding, kissing, fingering, oral sex, emotional manipulation, creampie, semi-public, car sex,
series masterlist | part 1 | part 2
It’s been a year, Jungkook notes. A year since he saw you - as insane as it was. You were only three hours away from him, and yet you made yourself unavailable for him. 
It’s been a year since you returned home for any holiday - and when you had, decided to remain with your mother regardless of what your father thought.
It’s been a year since you and Jungkook have been together and he could not fathom as to why you wouldn’t bother to answer any of his calls and only opted to dry messages. 
You refused to see him when Jungkook drove the three hours to your college in an attempt to see you just once - even if it meant that there was no sex. Jungkook loves you but his love was slowly turning to loath; utter detest.
You were ignoring Jungkook, completely refusing to see him. You made new friends and joined clubs at your colleges. You went to parties and shared your college life on social media that he followed sullenly. If he wasn’t watching it, he was hearing it when he returned home by your father and his mother. 
“Y/N’s doing amazing in school.” his mother gushed about your amazing grades. “She’s made so many friends, too.”
What made Jungkook’s blood boil and his senses highten was when your father said: “Y/N introduced me to her boyfriend over the phone. He seems to be a nice guy for her.”
Boyfriend?
Boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
You have a boyfriend and it only took Jungkook five minutes to find him. You never posted him, but yet again, you restricted Jungkook from witnessing certain things when it came to social media. You understood that posting your boyfriend where he could see would only provoke him, so you didn’t.
That didn’t mean the “boyfriend” never posted you - and he did frequently. You were in his bio, his story, all over his profile - it drove Jungkook sick. The fact that you had a boyfriend and you didn’t tell him; he was disgusted.
You and Jungkook were family - he loves you! 
Jungkook was there for important events in your life and the fact that you would go off to college and try to forget about his existence told him that you never loved him. Even after he loved you enough to pleasure you countless times; to assure that your needs came before his own.
Slowly, Jungkook was beginning to hate you. He would always love you - you were his sister, after all, however, he hated you as a person. He watched sullenly as your boyfriend continued to post sweet messages of you and him all over social media; the pictures and short videos of you and him laughing and smiling. The cheap gifts he’d buy you that would only warm your pathetic heart because back home, no one ever had.
 It appears that you went to college and became an entirely different person; one Jungkook didn’t recognize and he made it his mission to humble you when you returned. 
Jungkook’s wish was becoming true after months of forming his own plan. The only way for you to return home from college at the same time as Jungkook was for him to do the same as you were doing him; ignore you. He stopped himself from calling you and would only result in texting. He never watched any of your stories you’d post and began posting his own with Luna - sadly just a pawn in his plan.
Luna was beautiful, you thought, and you were glad Jungkook found a person for him white he was in college. Her hair sat above her shoulders in waves and her eyes showed nothing but love whenever she looked at Jungkook. It was the reason you began showcasing your own boyfriend - Jungkook had found someone, and so had you.
“You should come for winter break, Y/N. Jungkook is bringing his girlfriend.” your father had told you  over the phone, exactly a week before break. He pleaded with you, stating that he had not seen you in so long.
And now Jungkook had you where he wanted you. You had agreed to come along because, in your eyes, there was no threat. There wasn’t going to be any awkward encounters with Jungkook because he had Luna, and you had Jae. You were happy for Jungkook and even had texted him happily stating that you couldn’t wait to see him and be introduced to  Luna - something he couldn’t say the same for upon meeting Jae.
As the time came, Jungkook’s hatred for you couldn’t last long because he did love you. You looked happy, he notes as you stroll through the door. Your smile is wide and it reaches your eyes. Nothing much has changed from the last time he saw you in person a year prior besides the fact that you had someone walking directly beside you.
Jungkook hated Jae. The man is tall - as tall as he was - and had dark brown hair that appeared to be freshly cut and styled, as if he was trying to one up him. His demeanor and overall look was relaxed and cool and when he introduced himself to Jungkook as your boyfriend, it took everything in him to not laugh in the man's face. 
Dinner had come and went and it looked as though you and Luna were hitting it off great. You asked questions that Jungkook didn’t care to ask Jae - like how Luna and he met, how long they had been together and what college life was like. It’s a shame you were starting to like Luna and Jungkook together - even more ashamed he couldn’t say the same for Jae.
“I’ll wash the dishes.” Jungkook says aloud, lightly patting Luna’s thigh. “You can sit in here with them.” he tells her, tone low. 
Jungkook exits the living area and begins to do as he said he was, his mind on the way Jae sat so close to you and speaks fondly of his time with you in college. He’s scrubbing the dishes so hard that he doesn’t realize the footsteps coming directly behind him.
“Are you okay?”
Jungkook blinks a few times to register the voice. 
“Kook?”
“Yes?” Jungkook turns his head to look at you. You’re standing a few feet away from him, leaning against the counter. 
“You were scrubbing hard.” you try to joke. “Is something on your mind.”
Yes. “No.” Jungkook snickers, rinsing off the plates.  
“Want some help?” you ask after a few moments of silence. 
Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, continuing to wash the dishes and place them on the rack. You begin to dry them, eyes glancing at Jungkook every so often.
“Is everything okay?” you question. You couldn’t help but feel Jungkook be distant the entire time. “You seem…”
Jungkook waits for you to respond, and when you do he wants to laugh.
“Distant. As if your mind isn’t really here.”
“You would know about being distant, I suppose.” Jungkook murmurs.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you went to college and started ignoring me, Y/N.” Jungkook hisses. He hurls a glass cup onto the rack without caring if it slipped off or not.
“I thought we got through that.” you swallow, picking up the glass to dry it. You glance to the sliding door where the kitchen is separate from the sitting room. It’s slightly cracked and you can hear muffled voices. 
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, if that’s what you’re feeling, Kook.” you sigh. “I…didn’t want anything to happen.”
Jungkook knows what you’re speaking about. You’re trying to say it without revealing any secrets. 
Jungkook turns off the water to turn to you. “Anything like what?” he questions. “Like me fucking you?”
Your eyes widen and your hand clenched onto the towel. “Jungkook.” you hiss low. ”Stop.”
“Like what, Y/N? Me eating you out?” he scoffs. “Something like that?” “Don’t do this now.” you tell him while throwing the towel onto the counter. “I’m here with Jae and you’re here with Luna.”
Jungkook scoffs. “Is that the reason why you haven’t been back in a year? Because you have Jae?” Jungkook speaks his name with such disdain. “You ignore my calls and refuse to see me because of a boy you just met when I’ve been here for you for years?!”
Jungkook doesn’t mean to make his voice louder. He doesn’t want to draw any attention to the two of you, but he cannot help the way he feels at this moment.
Your eyes glance to the crack in the sliding door to see that no one has noticed you or Jungkook. 
“Yes, Jungkook.” you shrug your shoulders. “I ignored you because I had Jae.” you admit. “I ignored you because I had a life that wasn’t you. I have friends. I go to parties and I have fun. I do everything that you’ve been doing.” you shrug your shoulders once more. 
“I’ve never ignored you.” Jungkook spits. “At the end of the day, you’re still my sister-”
“Step-sister.” you interrupted. “Don’t act like the caring brother now, Kook.” you scoff. “I didn’t want to come back and face you. I thought things were different but obviously they’re exactly the same.”
Jungkook’s jaw clenches at your words. 
“Maybe I should just cut this trip short-” “Shut up, Y/N.” Jungkook snaps. He hasn’t done it in years, since the two of you were 12. He mushes your face entirely away, an act he did because he knew it pissed you off. “You’re such a bitch, you know that? You use me-”
“Use you?!” you hissed low in an attempt to keep the conversation between you and Jungkook. “I never needed you for anything!”
“Oh?” Jungkook scoffs. “You didn’t have a problem when I was making you cum. You didn’t have a problem-”
“Fuck. You.” you snap, every ounce of venom in your soul coming out with just two words. 
“Already did.” Jungkook shrugs. “I’m sure you didn’t forget. Tell me, Y/N. Did you use what I taught you on him?”
You turn on your heels and make your way towards the sliding door.  “I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?” Jungkook isn’t phased by your words. 
“Back to campus.” you turn to him, your hand on the door. “I don’t want to be around you anymore.”
“Stop being selfish for once, Y/N. Think about  your father and what you’d be doing by leaving again.” Jungkook crosses his arms. “Typical  of you to keep thinking about yourself instead of others.”
Your nails dig into the door as your eyes bore into Jungkook’s. You grit your teeth. Jungkook had a point - you didn’t want to leave your father. He had missed you dearly and having you and Jungkook in the home again was causing him great joy.
It was Jungkook you didn’t want to be around. There were reasons as to why you chose to ignore him while in college - you couldn’t feed into what the two of you were doing any longer. You had to be the one to end it before it got too much; and it had. Jungkook had grown territorial and slowly despised you for it.
“Exactly.” Jungkook's lips display a smile on them, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I missed you, Y/N. I missed us. Doesn’t this feel like old times?”
Jungkook strolls closer to you, uncrossing his arms. His hand places itself onto the sliding door and slowly begins to open it. It’s only open a bit wider, but you can hear the conversation from those behind it. Luna and Jae are talking about college while your parents spoke amongst one another. 
Jungkook stands directly behind you. “I love you, Y/N. You know that right?” he asks you. “You do, even if you refuse to admit it. But just because I love you doesn’t mean anything.”
“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly turning your head.
“It means,” Jungkook’s hand on the sliding door places itself onto your shoulder. “I don’t have a problem telling your boyfriend just how much you and I love each other.”
Your heart drops at Jungkook’s words. 
Jungkook hums at your silence. It meant that now you were taking him serious. “Good.” Jungkook speaks. He lowers his head slightly to place his lips on your cheek and kisses it gently. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” he says before taking a step back and sliding the door open.
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“I don’t mind sleeping out here, really.” Jae shakes his head with a smile. “I was actually expecting to stay at a hotel, so this is great.”
You take a deep breath and roll your eyes.  “I’m an adult.” you say aloud, eyes glancing at your father. “I’m old enough to have my boyfriend in my room.” you grumble.
“I’ll keep your boyfriend company, sis.” Jungkook says,  laying across the large couch. He offers you a smile. “Luna’s going to be sleeping in my room.”
“See, baby. It’s fair.” Jae murmurs towards you. “It’s only for a few days before I have to go meet with my parents.”
You cross your arms, not fully convinced.
You were an adult and if you wanted to have your boyfriend in your room with you while you two slept, you could. Having him sleep in the living area was just childish.
Not only that, but having Jungkook in there with him made you nervous. You couldn’t trust Jungkook and Jae alone - you couldn’t trust what Jungkook would do or say to him.
“See, no one’s complaining.” your dad claps his hands. He wasn’t going to risk anything happening under his roof with 4 young and hormonal young adults. “I’m going to bed.” your father makes his way towards you and wraps you in an embrace. “Good night, my love. It’s good to have you back.” he says, kissing your forehead. 
“Night.” you sigh in defeat, offering a loose hug to your father. 
Your father retreats to his bedroom and you linger slightly in the living area. Jungkook and Luna are speaking to one another, his arm around her waist as he murmurs in her ear. She’s smiling and giggling, her cheeks a rosy color and you want to gag at the sight - and roll your eyes.
Fuck Jungkook, you think. He was put on this earth to annoy you, and not only that; but to assure that you would constantly be looking over your shoulder. Your heart is filled with sorrow and regret for what you’ve done with Jungkook.
“I’m gonna go to bed early.” you sigh to Jae, offering a small smile. You wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you for coming here with me.”
“No problem.” Jae murmurs, grasping your waist to bring you closer to him. “I wish you could come with me to meet my parents.”
You did, as well. But you promised your father you would remain for a week - and the last thing you needed was to provoke Jungkook when he had something dingling above your head. 
“I will next time. I promise.” you press your lips against his. “Good.” you kiss him once more. “Night.”
Jungkook’s eyes meet yours as you walk down the hall to your bedroom and a humorless scoff releases from his throat.
“I should probably be heading to bed, too.” Luna says, kissing his cheek. Jungkook blinks to come back to reality and slowly, he nods his head. 
“Good night.” Jungkook murmurs, kissing Luna’s lips. “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”
Luna nods her head.
Jungkook makes himself comfortable, lifting his blanket to his chest and laying upon the pillows of the couch. He swallows, finding the way Jae is tossing and turning to be a complete nuisance.
“Jung…Kook?”
Jungkook blinks in the dim living area. He contemplates ignoring Jae and pretending to be asleep, but curiosity gets to him.
“Yes?”
Jae releases a sigh. “I really like Y/N.” Jae says nervously.
Jungkook licks his lips and hides a scoff. “Yeah?” is all he responds with.
“Yeah.” Jae murmurs. “I think I want to marry her.”
Jungkook scoffs. “You haven’t been with her for long.” Jungkook speaks, the words coming from Jae’s mouth sounding utterly ridiculous. 
“I know.” Jae chuckles. “But, I really do like Y/N. She makes me happy.”
Jungkook’s foot begins to shake, Jae’s words replaying in his mind and without thinking, he says: “You sound pussy whipped.”
Jae is silent and for a moment, Jungkook ponders if he was ignoring him. Not as if he cared - nothing Jae was something he took seriously. Jae didn’t know you like he did; he just knew what you showed him. Jungkook knows the real you - the you in the morning, you when you were on your period or the you when you were sad, hungry, happy; everything. Jungkook knows the real you, not Jae or any other man you’d ever bring around. 
“Y/N and I never…yeah.” Jae’s cheeks are hot when he responds. Jungkook and you are siblings and he doesn’t want to talk about this with your brother. 
Jungkook’s ear perks at Jae’s words. “I see…” he trails off. “Do you see a future with my sister?”
“Yes.” Jae responds without missing a beat.
Jungkook’s foot shakes harder beneath the blanket. “Good luck to you then.” is all Jungkook says before placing his hands behind his head, eyes staring into the dark room.
Jungkook’s mind is caught in his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize how time has gone by - three hours. Jae has long since gone to sleep, snoring slightly. The home itself is quiet and he’s sure everyone has long since fallen asleep.
Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to. His mind is wandering with Jae’s words and your actions. It was obvious that Jae was smitten with you and you him. If given the chance, you’d be with Jae and forget about him entirely, and that was something he didn’t want.
Jungkook lifts himself up from the couch and slowly saunters down the familiar hall. All of the room doors are shut, including his own. He twists the door knob to his room and opens it slightly. Luna is asleep, lying on her back with her arms above her head. Her chest rises and falls slightly in rhythm.
Gently, Jungkook closes the door behind him and goes down the hall a bit more to your own room. He turns the knob to your door and opens it. You're lying on your side and unmoved. “I know you’re awake.” Jungkook speaks to you, entering your room and closing it behind him.
“I know how you sleep, sis.”
“Stop calling me that.” you respond to Jungkook. “What do you want, Kook?”
Jungkook comes closer to your figure. “Jae was speaking to me a while ago.”
You feel a shift on your bed and know that Jungkook’s getting onto it.
“Says he sees a future with you.”
Jungkook embraces you from behind and presses himself firmly against you. 
“I won’t let that happen, Y/N.”
“Get off of me.” You squirm in Jungkook’s embrace, but he doesn’t let up.
“No.” Jungkook murmurs. “I won’t let you be happy with someone else. That means you’ll go back to forgetting about me.”
“Get off-”
Jungkook’s hands grip at your exposed skin - you’re not wearing much for bed. It’s been long since he’s touched you and at the act, goosebumps erupt on the skin of his arm.
“Your little boyfriend told me that he’s never touched you.” Jungkook murmurs, voice so deep and breath tickling the skin on your neck. “The way you’re allowing me to touch you tells me that it’s true.”
Jungkook’s hand glides up your sides and places itself onto your breast. He squeezes it, breathing increasing. “When was the last time you came, sis? Was it from me or did you have to pleasure yourself because he can’t?”
You swallow the lump in your throat. Your mind is screaming at you to fight against Jungkook and his wandering hands.
“Kook,” you say, voice meek and low. “please stop.”
Jungkook doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to grind against you. It’s been so long since he felt your body against his.
“Answer me.” Jungkook exhales. “I know he isn’t touching you and you must be so starved. So needy.”
Your moans are music to his ears and said moans catches you off guard. 
“We can’t do this anymore.”
“Why not?” Jungkook questions. “You’re not fighting me off of you. You want this.”
Jungkook forces you to turn towards him. His lips lightly graze your own.
“Tell me you want this, Y/N.” Jungkook commands.
You shake your head. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Jungkook hisses. He’s so close, you note, and he could kiss you at any moment. “You meet someone else and don’t love me anymore.” he states matter-of-factly. 
You release a sigh. “You sound crazy.” you respond meekly. “I’ll always love you. You’re my step-brother, after all.”
Jungkook scoffs. “Then why’d you refuse to see me in a year?” he asks, unable to get over the actions you’ve committed. “Why didn’t you call me?”
You swallow, glancing away from Jungkook. He wasn’t going to get over this and a part of you felt like it was your fault. Maybe if you would’ve told Jungkook that things couldn’t be the same then he would’ve taken it lightly.
Yet, you couldn’t dwell on what if’s and what you should’ve done - not when Jungkook held the past over your head.
“I’m sorry.” you murmur, defeated. “I didn’t know it’d hurt you this much.” you admitted.
Jungkook closes his eyes and releases a sigh. “I’ll forgive you this once.” he mumbles, a low smirk forming onto his lip.It’s a saying he’d say often when it comes to you - the first time being when you blamed him for breaking one of your father’s limited edition figurines. It then became a saying between the both of you, even for the littlest things that wasn’t worth truly being angry over.
You’re quiet, as is Jungkook. You’re unsure what to say or do next - it’s obvious that he had no intentions of leaving your room, but you also didn’t want him to stay any longer than he needed to.
You take a deep breath, your hands gliding up to Jungkook’s chest to push him away from you. “You should go.” you say to him.
“Hm.” Jungkook hums, his chest vibrating underneath your palms. “Why?”
You know why, is what you want to respond with. It’s an obvious reason - you shouldn’t be here with him; or ever caught in this position. 
“We use to do this all the time-”
“As kids.” you deadpan, your annoyance rising. Jungkook feigns ignorance all the time and you were growing tired of it.
“I’ll leave if,” Jungkook wraps his own hand around your wrist. “we can just be together one last time. Like the old times.”
“Kook,” you shake your head with a sigh, but Jungkook’s grip on your wrist only tighten.
“Just one last time.” Jungkook murmurs. He pulls you closer to him and presses his lips against your forehead. “Tonight, it can be about you and me. And tomorrow,” he kisses down your forehead to your cheek then your jaw. “you can go back to your boyfriend and I’ll go back with Luna.”
You release a shaky breath when Jungkook’s hand releases your wrist to grip your waist. “Don’t you like Luna enough to not do this?”
Jungkook scoffs to himself. No, he thinks. He likes Luna, but he loves you - and that was the difference. Luna was beautiful and her likes her - she’s smart and an amazing girl to be around. But his love for you outweighed whatever he felt for her, and to him, it should be the same for Jae. He could never love another girl when you should be his first one.
“Just tonight, Y/N.” Jungkook pushes you closer to him, forcing your leg around his waist. “Then I’ll let you go back to Jae and enjoy your college life. You don’t have to ignore me anymore because I won’t pursue you.”
Jungkook’s lips are kissing along your neck now. Your body stiffens, the hairs on your skin standing all at once. 
Your body is betraying you - this isn’t what you wanted. However, your mouth doesn’t move to speak to demand Jungkook to stop. His hands lower slowly - so slow as if to taunt you - to your ass. He grips it in the palm of his hands, hissing against your neck.
“You missed the way I touch you, Y/N. I know you did.” Jungkook declares in a hushed whisper. “You haven’t cum good in so long, who better than to do it but me?”
Warm and wet, Jungkook’s tongue slides along the nape of your neck. 
“Do you and Jae do this? Does he touch you like I do?” Jungkook questions, adjusting himself so that he’s on top of you. You didn’t say no, he notes, nor are you any longer pushing him away. 
“No…” 
Jungkook knows how you get when you’re in bed; how humid it can be beneath your covers. He understands how little you dress for bed, and just how easy it is for him to have you naked in no time.
“He doesn’t kiss you the way I am now?” Jungkook’s lips send wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. He’s teasing you, noticing your shaky breathing. 
“N-No…” your mind is screaming at you to push Jungkook away. Be adamant and stern - tell him that you didn’t want this and that this wasn’t fair to the both of you or to Jae and Luna.
“Then it should be okay for me to, right?” Jungkook reaches your breast, his eyes darting up at you. “I can leave all the marks I want because it’s not like he’d see…”
You feel your shirt being lifted upward. “You want this, don’t you, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs, the cool air of your room slicing against your skin. “You haven’t told me to stop yet.”
It’s been so long since he’s seen your naked body in person and all he truly has close to it is the videos you and he took. His mouth begins to salivate and he wastes no time in wrapping a tongue around your nipple and his hand aggressively gripping the free one.
“Jungkook-!” you try your hardest not to be too loud - these walls weren’t as thin, but after your year celibacy, you’re unsure how you’d react to him.
“‘missed you so much.” Jungkook confessed muffledly.
This is wrong, you think. You put a stop to this for a year - you told yourself that you couldn’t go back to this.
This wasn’t fair to Jae; to Luna.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Jungkook to stop. Your mind and your body were going against one another. Was it wrong? Yes, and you were going to hate yourself for allowing Jungkook access to your body once more.
But you loved it - every moment of it. You loved how needy Jungkook was for you; how his tongue would suck and lightly, his teeth would tug onto your nipples. You adored the way he would grind into you hastily and his hand would grip your breast.
“I missed you, too.” you moan at, hips buckling with Jungkook’s. He knew that he had you where you both wanted to be - with one another.
Of course you missed him - being away for so long with no pleasure. What was Jae good for if he wasn’t doing anything for you?
This is why Jungkook took your lack of sexual journey for the last year to his advantage - he could leave whatever marks on you that he desired because it wasn’t like anyone was going to see. 
Jungkook doesn’t stop suckling on your breast until they’re both littered with bite marks and purplish hickies - but even then, he wasn’t done. He had to taste you; not having you on his tongue for so long drove him crazy.
“I’m gonna eat you out.” Jungkook says, his fingers hooking on your shorts. “And you’re gonna cum on my tongue, okay?”
You could only nod, defeated. When your high came down, you were going to look back ashamed on being such a whore and allowing Jungkook in.
Jungkook kisses down your stomach to prepare you - and himself - for this. He throws your shorts and panties aside without a care and pushes your legs apart.
“Such a pretty pussy.” Jungkook admires, speaking to himself more than anything. He doesn’t hesitate in diving in, fully devouring you as if this was his last meal - and in a way it was.
Jungkook hooks your thighs apart, holding them in a firm grasp to assure you cannot squirm away from him. He lays his tongue flat against your clit, head bobbing side to side rapidly.
Your back arches in shock with the new pleasure, your teeth harshly biting your lips to not expose yourself. 
Your thighs quiver to be released, but Jungkook is stronger than you. His tongue dips between your folds and circles around your slit, fully teasing and edging you on.
“Kook, please…” you moan low, blinking away from Jungkook.
“Stop being so silent.” Jungkook scoffs,eyes flicking up to you. His tongue continues to suckle on your bulging clit.
“Do you want us to get caught?!” you hiss, slamming your head back against the pillow and releasing a moan, a bit higher than the rest. Your hand finds his hair and you grip it tightly.
Jungkook allows you to guide him and take control of your pleasure. Your hips buckle as you grind against his tongue, your body trembling with ecstasy.
“F-Feels so good…”
You’re going to hate yourself later, but now - now you wanted to cum after having not in so long.
Jungkook knows your body more than anyone. He enters his fingers inside of you and begins to pump, encouraging you to cum right on his tongue like he intended you to.
Your pussy’s so tight, Jungkook groans. So tight and ready to be fucked full - Jae was a fool to not take you because that only made your pussy crave him more.
Jungkook pumps his fingers with might, your pussy dripping onto his wrist. Your hand no clasps itself onto your mouth to prevent any unwarranted moans.
“I wish you could see how slutty you look now.” 
Jungkook leans away to admire your quivering form beneath him, slamming his fingers even deeper inside of you. They scrape against your walls heavenly, so much so that you could barely manage to keep your eyes open.
“You ignored me for so long just to come back to me. Knew you’d never find anyone better, huh?”
Jungkook places a thumb against your clit and circles it. 
“You ignored me because you knew how much you truly wanted me. A slut like you could never leave her legs close around me.”
Jungkook’s breathing increased and he shook his head. “Get up.” he removes his fingers from inside of you. “I can’t fuck you how I want to in here.”
Your eyes snap open at the loss and you blink. “W-Where-”
“Car.” is all Jungkook says before removing himself from you and going to pass you your discarded clothing. “If this is going to be our last time, I’m not holding back.”
It shouldn’t have, but your pussy clenches with anticipation.
This was yet another moment given to you to deny Jungkook - but you haven’t. Instead, you followed closely behind him as the two of you sneaked out of the home and around back to where his car sat. The night is dark and stateless, and his car is completely dark as you enter. He turns it on and turns on the heat as it warms.
“Back seat.” Jungkook demands, closing the driver seat door as he climbs to the back. “Take off your clothes.”
Jungkook doesn’t want to waste any unnecessary time - a year was long enough. He’s doing the same as you, removing useless clothing if it meant that he could be inside of you quicker.
“This is our last time.” you say, removing your clothing - your coat, sweats and shirt all discarded to the side. “Then we can never do this again.”
“Sure.” is all Jungkook says, glancing at your face.
You swing your leg around to sit onto his lap. “I’m serious, Kook-”
Jungkook’s palm slams into your face and once more - like before in the kitchen - he mushes your face back. “I heard you the first time, sis. You can go back to your lame boyfriend tomorrow.”
“Fuck-”
“-You. I will.” Jungkook centers his cock at your entrance and lightly taps it. “Still on birth control?”
You nod your head with a bite of your lip.
“Good.” Jungkook says, slowly entering you. His hands place themselves on your hips as he allows you to adjust to his size.
You’re squeezing around Jungkook so tightly and not even intentionally. Your eyes begin to roll just as you begin to grind against him, your hands wrapping around his neck.
“Shiiit.” Jungkook grunts.
You were needy, Jungkook thinks. You needed this - if not, you wouldn’t have been fucking yourself as if you did. Your feet are planted directly onto his set as you rise and fall against him, your moans of pleasure no longer needing to hide.
“You missed being fuck, didn’t you?” Jungkook’s cocky, but why wouldn’t he be? He had you where he wanted you - creaming his cock while your boyfriend laid sleep not far away.
Jungkook’s hand roams your naked body, unsure where he wants to lay them. Your breast bounces in his face, as if taunting him to suck on them even more.
“S-Shut up.” you whimper, your nails digging into the skin of his neck. Your forehead leans against his. 
“Feels good?” Jungkook asks rhetorically. “Come,” Jungkook presses his lips against yours and his hands onto your hips. He begins to thrust upwards into you, meeting your own thrusts. “gonna fuck you all night.”
Your lips press back onto Jungkook’s, completely lost in the immorality.  As much as your mind wanted to fight against it, your body refused. Jungkook was the only man you’ve been with sexually so far, and the only one that could satiate the hunger you felt.
The kisses become sloppy; needy. Neither of you want to stop, lust filling both bodies to the brim.
There’s a never ending urge inside of Jungkook, an urge he never wants to complete if he meant he could always be inside of you. He flips you onto your back, crashing you against the cool seats of his car. 
Jungkook begins to fuck deeper inside of you, uncaring about how aggressive the car begins to rock.
A year.
A year since Jungkook got to cum inside of you. A year since he felt your walls wrapped around him so heavenly and your moans enticing him beautifully.
A year since Jungkook got to be around you - the longest he’s gone without you since he was a child. 
Jungkook’s breathing increases as his hooded eyes look down at your figure. So beautiful, he ponders. So beautiful that it’s shameful that he is forced to give you to another man that could never love you as much as he could.
Jungkook wouldn’t allow it - not caring if you choose to hate him for the time being. He wouldn’t allow you to settle for second best.
“All mine,” Jungkook groans, capturing your lips with his own. His cock plunges in and out of you at an unbearable speed. “only mine.”
Your arms embrace Jungkook to keep him closer to you.
“Say it, Y/N. Say you’re mine.” Jungkook grumbles, dark eyes boring into yours. 
“You know I love you, Kookie.” you respond softly with a small smile onto your lips. “No need to get territorial.”
Jungkook groans. There was an absolute need - because eventually, you would try to find another man that didn’t love you enough and he wouldn’t allow you to.
“I can be all yours for tonight.” you press your lips against his with each passing word. “Just you and me.”
It’s exactly what Jungkook needed to hear; a confirmation. You were his - even if just for tonight - you were all his and for the entirety of the night right before the sun rose, you and he had continued as the gas wasted away
. Jungkook has cum inside of you an insane amount that if you weren’t on birth control there would be no doubt that you’d fall pregnant. He fucks you as many times as you’d let him - on your back, on your chest, between the driver and passenger seat.
Jungkook had no intention of this being your last night with him.
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“What are you doing?” you ask Jae once you emerge from the bathroom. Three days had gone by so far and Jae wasn’t set to leave for another day. 
Jae turns towards you with a hard stare that has you halting in your tracks.
“Jae-” you reach out for him and he jerks away from you.
“I have to go.” Jae murmurs with a shake of his head. “I-I…”
Jungkook watches from the kitchen, sliding door cracked. He takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows furrowed. 
“I don’t understand.” you shake your head. “My dad should be off of work soon he can take you to the train station but-”
“I’ll catch an Uber.” Jae turns away from you. You’re confused by the sudden change. The last three days had been normal for the two of you.
“Jae, please talk to me.” you begin to follow him towards the front door. “Did I do something to upset you?”
Jae stops in his tracks, suitcase in hand. He slowly turns towards you, a look in his eye that wasn’t familiar.
Goosebumps emerge onto your arms at the sinister look in his eyes. 
“Jae-”
“You’re fucking your brother.”
Jae’s voice is deep and stern - you’ve never heard him use such language before.
You shake your head, gulping. “W-What?” you murmur so low and inaudible that you yourself are unsure if you said it or not. 
“You’re,” Jae turns towards you fully. “fucking your brother.” he repeats each word slowly. “You’re fucking your brother and you brought me here to meet him.”
Your mind is racing and your eyes are wide. 
“Where is this coming from?”
Jae drops his suitcase harshly. He rummages through his coat pocket and takes out his phone. He shoves it into your face as the video plays - the same video from a year prior of Jungkook and you in his car.
Right before college.
“I-I can explain-”
“Explain how you’re fucking your brother?!” Jae hisses with such venom that it makes you flinch. “Explain how you brought me here to meet him like a fool. What type of relationship do you two-”
“N-Nothing!” your eyes begin to water. “Jungkook isn’t my biological brother, he’s…” your breathing increases.
“Why does that matter, Y/N? There’s pictures all over here of you and him as kids!” Jae waves around his arms to said pictures on the walls. “You were raised as his sister! You call the same man dad!”
All you can do is shake your head as the tears begin to fall. Your heart hurts and you’re full of pure embarrassment of being found out. 
“Jae…”
“I’m leaving, Y/N. Don’t…don’t contact me anymore.” Jae pushes his phone back into his pocket. “I’m upset with you, but I don’t hate you. I wish you the best.”
Jae picks up his suitcase from the ground and turns away from you. You want to reach out for him and apologize - beg for his forgiveness. You want to plead for him to speak with you just a little while longer so you can explain.
You don’t - you didn’t have the right to.
“Y/N.”
Your head whips around to Jungkook leaning against the kitchen door. 
“You asshole!” you screech, lunging at him to attack. “How fucking selfish can you be?!” you scream so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear. 
“Calm down!” Jungkook screams back, restraining your wrists and halting your attacks. “It wasn’t me.”
“Who else has that video?” your tears are beginning to blind your vision. “You…you promised!” your voice cracks.
“Y/N…” Jungkook embraces you from behind. It’s the only way he could console you without you attacking him. 
“Let me go.” you cry, your body going limp in his embrace. 
“Luna isn’t here either. She left.” Jungkook murmurs into your ear. “I should have hid the video better. I’m sorry.”
You swallow. “L-Luna…knows?”
“Yes.” Jungkook murmurs. “She was the one who sent it to Jae. She suspected I was seeing someone else…” he trails off.
Jae knew.
Luna knew.
Your life was done - you wanted the world to swallow you whole at this moment. 
Jungkook holds you against his chest as you cried. “It’ll be okay, Y/N.”
“I-I can’t go back there.” you shake your head. “J-Jae…will tell everyone and-”
“SShh, Y/N. Calm down for me, please.” Jungkook turns you around and guides you towards the couch. “Breath, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”
You swallow the lump in your throat and sniffle. 
“Why don’t you come home?” Jungkook suggests. “You can transfer to my college. It’s not too close to home but not as far, either.”
‘What about Luna?” 
“Luna won’t be a problem.” Jungkook assures. He had already broken things off with her the following night before he sent the video to Jae. She had taken it well and insisted there was no bad blood between them. “Trust me.”
You sniffle once more, wiping your eyes to look at Jungkook. 
Jungkook offers a warm smile. “There you go, Y/N. Wipe your tears.” he says softly. “I was thinking about getting an apartment for myself in the next few weeks. Do you want to stay with me when the transfers go through?”
You nod your head.
“Okay. I’ll tell Dad and we’ll get everything sorted, okay?” Jungkook rubs your arms encouragingly. “I’m sorry things with Jae didn’t work out.”
Jungkook wasn’t sorry, but he would apologize because you were crying and visibly upset and as someone he loves and cares for, he didn’t like it. 
Jungkook presses his lips against yours and embraces you. “I’ll be okay, Y/N.” he tells you. “No one’s going to love you like I do. I’ll take care of you.”
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explicit-tae · 5 months
Text
Ungodly Hour: Day 1
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You and Jungkook are together for the whole weekend. All he truly wanted from you was to admit you were his girl - but like always, he had to fuck it out of you. @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx
Series Masterlist
word count: 3.675
warning: dirty talk, nipple sucking, slight kissing, neck biting, edging, face-slapping, cocky/jealous/possessive/dominant jungkook, bitchy/shit-talking but submissive reader, creampie, crying, begging,
“You cooked this?” your mother is first to ask once she bites into the meat, eyes growing slightly wide. “It tastes amazing.”
Jungkook gives a toothy grin and nods. “I added a secret sauce that my father has taught me.” 
You want to roll your eyes at Jungkook.
Dinner was going by smoothly. Around 20 minutes ago, your parents arrived. Your father appeared much the same, nonchalant and just ready to eat. Your mother did most of the talking. Her eyes roamed the apartment with prying eyes. She asked Jungkook and you questions after questions, all of which Jungkook responded to quickly and without hesitation. 
“How did you two really meet?” your mother asks after a moment. “I assume it couldn’t have been tweeter.”
You scoff. “No. It was not twitter.”
Jungkook places a hand atop yours and laughs. He wraps his fingers into your own and eyes you. He then brings your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss. “We met at the University.” Jungkook nods. “She was so cold to me at first.”
Your mother shakes her head. “Typical of her.”
“I must’ve asked her out a million times. I was shut down each and every time. Right, baby?”
You want to snatch that smirk off of his lips, but you only roll your eyes. 
“I think she got tired of my begging and agreed to a date.” Jungkook turns to your mother. “Ever since then, I’ve been attached to her like a lost puppy.”
Your father listens, not interested in speaking, but interested enough to appear apart of the conversation. “I’m glad.” your mother speaks. She takes a sip of her water. “Y/N can be a little mean.”
You knit your brows, but before you can speak Jungkook cackles. “She can!” he agrees.
Oh wow, you think. 
“But that’s what I love about her. She’s feisty and stubborn.” Jungkook looks your way, his eyes burning into you. You glance away from them and grunt, feeling hot. “And she always speaks up for me at restaurants when they get my order wrong.”
“That was once.” you quip. “You asked for extra sauce…”
“I did.” Jungkook nods. “I thought she was going to rip someone’s head off.” he tells your mother jokingly. “At least I know she cares.”
Jungkook was right - he had won over your mother.
That was expected, however. Your mother was easy to please. Jungkook was the equivalent of tall, dark and handsome. He’s easy to speak with and was such a smooth talker that it even had her swooning. He was affectionate, often kissing your hand or your head - more than usual, but you told yourself he was milking this to the very end. 
Now, your father was a different story. He was able to engage the man into conversation and actually hold it, having your fathers full and undivided attention. That is when you realized that Jungkook meant what he said - that even if this fake dating didn’t end with the both of you actually dating, that Jungkook would be there regardless. Your mother was already inviting him to dinner the following week and even hugged him before leaving - before she hugged you. 
“I’ll see you two next week?” your mother asks as she’s strolling out the door.
Jungkook wraps you in a tight embrace, his head resting on your shoulder. “You will!” he responds to her, waving curtly. “Y/N tells me about your cooking all the time. I can’t wait!”
You grumble - it was all the time, but you weren’t aware Jungkook was actually listening to your random ramblings. He was slowly winning your mother over that you were sure she would have him for dinner even without you there.
“You think you’re cute?” you push Jungkook off of you once the door is shut. 
“Is that the thanks I get for making a good impression?”
You cross your arms. “You know what you were doing complimenting her the entire night.”
Jungkook smirks. “Like mother, like daughter. You both like my praises.” Jungkook’s hands are on you again, bringing you closer to him. “I have to keep myself on top if I’m going to be competing against these boyfriends.”
Your hands are against his chest to push him away. “Ugh, take me home.”
“You aren’t staying the weekend?” Jungkook pouts his lips slightly. “We have to finish binge watching Law & Order.”
“You’re right.” you sigh for a moment. “And here I thought I had a chance to get rid of you.”
“You never can.” Jungkook’s right hand slaps your ass. You yelp, but it was only a gesture to bring you closer to him. He pecks your lips. “Let’s get going. We have the entire weekend ahead of us.”
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The night shouldn’t have ended like this. You told yourself that you and Jungkook wouldn’t be entangled together - especially since you were watching Law & Order - there was no way Jungkook could ignore such an amazing series to get his cock wet.
But Jungkook had. 
It started with light touching. Jungkook’s bed is soft and it’s easy to be comfortable. He had gave you a shirt to wear - even if you had a weekend's worth of clothes - he insisted it would be best. You were certain he just wanted you in his shirt to appear more domesticated. 
Your first mistake was not wearing anything but the shirt and panties. Jungkook’s hands wandered upon your skin, his body dangerously close to yours. His hips would rut against your ass, prying hand going beneath the oversized shirt. “Just one kiss, Y/N. Don’t be like that.” was what he said - and you caved.
Of course it could never be one kiss. One peck led to him begging for more - and more. It led to him flipping you to face him, his hand squeezing the flesh of your ass to bring you closer to him. It continued with you being on top of him, tongues fighting against one another. His hands stayed upon your ass, rubbing gently as you and he kissed.
“We’re missing the show.” you protest, breaking free of the heated kiss. 
“We can always go back.” Jungkook eyes you with hooded eyes. “You look so pretty in my shirt.” he murmurs.
“Shut up, simp.” you roll your eyes jokingly.
“I can never compliment my girl without getting called a simp.” Jungkook tsks. His hands rub up your rib back down to your waist to your thighs. “It’s true, though. I wanna wake up with you like this every day.”
“I would have to actually be your girl for that to happen.” you retort. You gently grind against him, lips flashing him a mischievous grin. 
“You are my girl.” Jungkook hisses low, hands squeezing your hips to keep you firmly against him. “I got you in my shirt, don’t I?”
Jungkook and his logical comebacks. Damn him.
“I got you to stay with me this weekend, right?” Jungkook continues, his tongue coating his lips with moisture. 
“So?”
Jungkook manages to lift himself up without disrupting you. You and he are face to face now, your thighs caging him in between you. 
“So that makes you my girl.” Jungkook pecks your lips. “I know you like being called my girl, Y/N. Each time I say it you grind against me a little harder.”
Truly, fuck Jeon Jungkook because damn was he right.
“Exactly.” Jungkook murmurs, and for a second you believe he’s going to say something else - a comment that would indicate just how “down bad” you were for him. But no, Jungkook continues to stare at you.
You shift in his lap and with that, Jungkook blinks. “You’re really pretty.” 
You frown, knitting your brows together in an attempt to be annoyed - even if your heart did jolt. 
“My pretty girl.” Jungkook continues, his arms embracing you. “Far too stubborn to admit.”
“Is this how you ask out all your girls?” you snort, but feel yourself melting in his warm embrace. “Just demand for them to be with you?”
“There you go, Y/N.” Jungkook chuckles. “You go in that head of yours and start being delusional and fantasize me being with other girls.”
“Excuse me?” Delusional?
“Why are you adamant on me having multiple girls?” Jungkook gently kisses your forehead just because he knows it annoys you - his random acts of affection or kindness in a situation that is deemed “serious”.
You shrug your shoulders. “You fit the fuck boy aesthetic.” was all you say.
Jungkook snorts. “You think I have girls lining up to suck my dick in exchange for streaming services?”
You gasp. “We said we wouldn’t bring that up!” you hiss. 
“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” Jungkook smiles. “I just don’t see how you think I’m a fuck boy even now. I barked in order to meet your parents. I’m still getting laughed at in the groupchat.”
You suppress your own laughter, only giving Jungkook a grin.
“I basically fund your whole lifestyle. I think that’s far beyond a fuck boy.” Jungkook adds - but not in a way to throw it in your face or to appear as though you need him to. 
“A sugar daddy at best.” you shrug, but even you can’t help but laugh at the bewildered look on Jungkook’s face. “You do know you aren’t obligated to buy me things.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes - it was the same song and dance as before. He’d get you something he heard you speak about once a few days prior - you would insist it wasn’t a need, but the sparkle in your eyes was enough for him to keep doing it. 
“As my girl…” Jungkook places a kiss at the nape of your neck. “...it’s required of me to.”
“Until you get bored and throw me to the side.” you feel Jungkook’s teeth bite down on your neck. 
“You do everything but admit you like me, baby.” Jungkook presses you firmly against him. “I’m beginning to think that’s what you want me to do so you can remain in denial.”
Jungkook’s hands go beneath the large shirt of his you wore. Your skin is so soft and smooth - the both of you shudder. 
“You’re okay.” you murmur, biting your lip when you feel both of his hands engulf your breasts. 
“Just okay?” Jungkook’s tongue twirls on the spot he bit. “I can have you on your back begging for me in seconds, baby. Nothing about me is ‘just okay’.”
Your play hard to get was not going to last - especially not now. The cocky Jungkook was creeping in, and he knew that your words were nothing but bluffs.
“I’m sure I would be the same way with someone else.”
You couldn’t help it. It was a game for you at times to rile up Jungkook. He was the jealousy and competitive type - he had to prove that he was the best at any and everything he did. 
“You want me to fuck you so bad.” Jungkook chuckles, but you can hear the slight irritation in his voice - deep and raspy; ready to prove you wrong. You shudder slightly as goosebumps ride across your skin.
You really did. You were already wet enough, his hands and mouth adding to it. There was nothing like Jungkook fucking your petty words right out of you.
“You do this every time, Y/N.” Jungkook bites your neck harshly and you yelp, squirming. “You love messing with me. It must turn you on seeing me fuck the submission into you.”
You swallow thickly to suppress a moan. “I just give you what you want.” you shrug slightly. 
“What do I want?”
“Someone to moan for you no matter if it feels good or not.”
You were playing a dangerous game with Jungkook, but it just brings nothing but excitement through you. 
You yelp once more when you feel your hair being yanked. “You’re being a bitch again, baby.” Jungkook murmurs, but even he is amused by your attempts. You can never just tell him that you want him - never tell him that you want him to dominate. Instead, you deny or insinuate the opposite just to give him a reason to prove you wrong.
But Jungkook said it once before, he loved your ‘play hard to get’ game you played with him; when he had you it was much more satisfying. 
“Isn’t that what you like about me?” you tease, and even in the dim room - law and order playing ignored in the background - you are beautiful to him, eyes sparkling with mischief. 
“Love it.” Jungkook presses his lips firmly onto yours, his tongue sliding past your mouth. It’s quick and he’s rough, but you cannot protest. His hands are gripping your flesh so hard that you feel as though they’d leave a mark.
Jungkook yanks the shirt off of you, tongue instantly finding both of your breasts. Your legs are wrapped around him, his clothed cock pressing firmly against you.
“Why can’t you be normal?” Jungkook’s lips pops from your nipples, his tongue licking it furiously. “A normal girl would just tell me she wants me to be a little rough and not provoke it out of me.”
Jungkook grips both of your breasts into the palm of his hands and brings both of your nipples into his mouth.Your back arches at the warm sensation pooling through you. 
“I-I have to tell you how to fuck like a man?”
There was a new sensation when the words left your mouth and hit Jungkook’s ears. It’s a sensation that shoots straight to your core and leaves your cheek stinging.
The room is silent, Jungkook’s eyes wide watching your reaction for a moment. He’s ready to apologize for not thinking before he slaps you, but it’s your moan that draws him back to reality.
“You liked that?” Jungkook murmurs and you nod, biting your lip. Jungkook grunts, his mind wandering just how far you’d let him go.
Jungkook unwraps your legs from around him and removes himself from the bed. He drags you to the edge of it, you yelping at the sudden movement. Jungkook removes your panties and widens your legs. He’s cocky - through the flashing television light, he see’s how wet you are for him.
“Keep your eyes on me.” Jungkook demands.
You swallow, finding it difficult underneath his intense gaze. Jungkook lowers himself, burying his tongue deep within your folds. He forces your legs open each time you threaten to close them. His eyes are locked onto your fluttering ones, watching as you moan and cry for him. You were so beautiful for him - if only you’d allow him to admire your beauty. Oftentimes when he looked your way, you were quick to respond with a witty remark.
“Fuck…” you groan, breaking eye-contact just as he enters his fingers inside of you. You lay your head back and continue to pant. 
“You never allow me to treat you nicely.” Jungkook removes his tongue from your clit to spit on it, continuing his pumping. “If you’d let me, I would take good care of you.” Jungkook licks his lips, the wet sounds of your pussy like a melody to his ears. “But instead, you want to be a bitch. I don’t get it.”
“K-Kookie…” you draw out a moan, a hand cupping your breast. You can feel the familiar churning in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum-”
“No you aren’t.” Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you, hand slapping your clit. 
Your eyes shoot open, your pussy clenching around nothing. “W-What-”
Your mouth is stuffed with Jungkook’s fingers, your tongue twirling around them. 
“See how good you taste?” Jungkook questions, removing his fingers to grip your chin tightly. “I would let you cum but…I’m sure you can always find someone else to do it. Since you enjoy faking so much.”
Your heart is pumping and you flush hot with embarrassment. You aren’t sure what to say - Jungkook had you beat. 
“Aw,” Jungkook chuckles. “You look so sad, baby. I can let you cum.”
You swallow, glancing away from Jungkook. 
“Is that what you want?”
You nod your head, but Jungkook wants to hear you. 
You yelp when your clit is slapped once more. “Use your words, baby.”
“Y-Yes!” you try not to moan and sound too desperate, but it’s inevitable. 
“Yes what, baby?” Jungkook’s already tugging his bottom half off, his underwear going along with it. His shirt is next, chisel abs in your line of vision that you groan at just the sight. “Tell me what you want, Y/N. You have a mouth any other time.”
Fuck Jeon Jungkook. 
Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his cocky attitude.
Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his amazing dick that has you following along with him. “Please fuck me.” you sigh in defeat. “Please make me cum, Kook.”
“With pleasure.” Jungkook is delighted. He slaps the top of his cock against your clit, licking his lips. “So wet. To think you said someone else can have you like this.”
Jungkook wasn’t going to let that go - you can only imagine how hard he was going to fuck-
“J-Jungkook…!” you shout in surprise at how hard he enters you, his thrusting increasing by the second. Your back slams against the bed with each thrust, and it only bounces back just as hard. 
“You can handle it, Y/N.” Jungkook hisses, fingernails digging into your flesh. “You don’t want me to be nice, you don’t want to be my girl…”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting heavily. Jungkook’s tone appears serious - you’d have to ask later on if your words really got to him like they appeared to have. 
“I let you…fuck…” Jungkook’s head hangs, eyes unsure where to focus. Your breast bounced furiously in rhythm with his pounding. Your face is scrunched with pleasure, a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth. “...I let you sit on my face. I let you spend as much of my money as you’d like with no limit. I…”
Jungkook grips your chin once more, forcing you to focus on him. It’s difficult - Jungkook doesn’t allow you a second to breathe, but you don’t want him to. 
“And all I really ask you to be is my girl.”
It pains for him to remove himself from you - all he wants is to cum deep inside of you like you’d allow him before. But - his pride and ego got the best of him. If you were going to front as if you didn’t need him to cum, then you weren’t.
“Kook…” you cry in defeat, pussy once more clenching around nothing. 
Jungkook laughs, a dark glee in the tone. “And like I said before, Y/N…” your eyes flutter a bit looking at his face - dark lust filled eyes staring right into yours. “...I can have you on your back begging for me, can’t I?”
Fuck Jeon Jungkook.
Your chest heaves. “Fuck you.” you curse at how meek your voice appeared.
“I bet you’d like that baby.” Jungkook plays with your clit slightly. “You’re my girl, right?”
You lick your lips, thighs quivering. 
“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” Jungkook centers his tip at your entrance, thumb circling against your wet bud. “That’s all I want from you, baby. You can have anything you want from me…”
Jungkook enters you slowly this time. Your groan is long and deep, your hands reaching out to grab Jungkook’s bicep. 
“J-Jungkook.” you trail off - the pleasure now getting to you. You just wanted to cum by him - his hands, mouth, cock, whatever it took.
“Yes, baby?” Jungkook breathes - he’s unsure himself if he’d be able to last long like this and then his ego would be hurt (but then again, he wouldn’t have blueballs).
“Please make me cum, Kookie.” you wail, hot tears falling down your face. You had to look utterly pathetic weeping for dick. Jungkook’s ego was now going to skyrocket and this moment is something he would forever hold over your head - no jokes from you could ever be taken now. “I had you on your back crying for me, baby” - you can hear it now.
But - you were desperate. Jungkook was hot, his dick was amazing and you’d allow him to have this over you. 
“I’m your girl, Kookie.”
Jungkook shudders - and now he’s truly satisfied. He pounds into you sloppily, certain that neither of you were going to last long. You’re clenching around him so heavenly, moaning and crying his names that he cannot help but want to cum inside of you each and every time. 
“I know you’re close, baby.” you hear Jungkook say, his forehead - moist with sweat - pressed onto yours. “We can come together, okay?”
“Y-Yea…” you nod, but you wrap your arms around Jungkook and press your lips against his. You’re groaning against the kiss, already cumming on his cock.
Jungkook feels the electric shock go through him and he shudders. With a few more thrusts, Jungkook cums inside of you, trembling at the sensation.
Ten minutes it’s what it took for you and Jungkook to come back to reality. You’re sweaty and you haven’t even done anything.
“You wanna shower?” Jungkook’s voice pipes in. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too overboard, right?”
You nod your head. “I’m okay.” you murmur. 
Jungkook nods. He kisses your temple. “I can start the shower for you-”
“You aren’t coming?” you ask once you feel Jungkook shuffle on the bed.
“I-I..” Jungkook’s eyes are wide and doe like. He appears completely surprised that you offered such a thing. “You’d like me to?”
You laugh at his expression. How you manage to remove yourself from the bed is beyond you - your legs are shaking with pain that you’re not upset about. 
Jungkook feels your hands against his bare chest and he tilts his head, awaiting your response. “I said I was your girl, wasn’t I?” you murmur, sending a kiss to his chest.
In seconds, Jungkook is erect again at just the admission. 
Series Masterlist
3K notes · View notes
rerefundslocals · 1 year
Text
ADORE YOU [J.JK]
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Summary: jungkook just wants to cook for you and love on you as a newly married couple.
>>pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader (she/her)
>>trope: established relationship
>>genre: fluff, fluff and fluff
>>word count: 917
>>warnings/tags: jungkook is just cheesy, mentions of jungkooks past with cooking(that one run bts ep), some tears of LOVE and Joy, short brief kisses, they're just vv cute :( lmk if I missed anything!
a/n - welll, uhm, I liked the live but damn bro at 4am? 😭 anyway, please enjoy this short piece of work, I'll be gone for a while. Please send feedback through reblogs or asks, it helps authors stay very motivated <333 {work is not proofread}
{Listen to 'Adore you' by Harry Styles as this is inspired by the song.}
~★~
"You don't have to say,you love me
You don't have say nothing
You don't have to say ,you're mine
Honey, I'll walk through fire for you
Just let me Adore You."
•★•♥︎•★•♥︎•
"You're gonna cook for me?"
"Of course. who else is gonna cook for my wifey?" Jungkook leans down at your figure sitting on the couch, placing a peck on your lips.
You both had just got back from your honeymoon and this is the first night in your shared home, and after a whole day of grocery shopping, Jungkook had decided to stand up and make a meal for you both.
You simply chuckle at his antics, deep down feeling a wave of worry as the last time Jungkook had cooked for you both, the food had stuck onto the plate.
"McDonald's can cook for us too, Kook and it'll be ready in no more than 30minutes." You suggest, hoping he would catch on.
But he doesn't.
"No, that's very unhealthy, we had nothing but unhealthy food during our honeymoon, so let's have something different. Hmm, Wifey?" He asks, head tilting to the side as he awaits your answer.
Looking at him draped in his White Nike shirt, that you suppose he got from Japan and his Grey Joggers ; you pout at him, hoping to persuade him.
Sighing you let out, "argh, fine. Promise you won't poison me?" As your response.
Fists meeting the air in victory and a funny walk that has him tilting to the side all the way to the kitchen, he let's out a strained response, "Don't worry, Princess! You're in good hands."
"Okay, My Prince Charming!" You shout back.
During the time that you scroll through the smart TV and your phone, it's clear to hear the tunes your Husband sings in the kitchen and it has you smiling from ear to ear.
What a beautiful voice he has. And he can sing to you all day and night, cause he adores you that much.
You're pulled out of your thoughts when Jungkook hardly places the pot on the countertop, making you flinch at the sudden hit.
"Come, Princess!" He ushers.
You walk to the kitchen, dressed in something similar as him. Grey sweats and a oversized Prada shirt that belongs to Jungkook, while your hair is styled the way you like.
"Hmm, what's this, baby?" You question, peering at the meal in the pot.
He smiles at you, feeling proud and it had you feeling shy because of how he stares into your eyes when he explains.
"So, Princess. This is my famous Seaweed rice, with fried rice mix along with chicken breasts mixed in with sesame oil, soy sauce and gochujang. And that all for my Wifey." He finishes, lips meeting yours for a loving peck and when he pulls away, you almost want to dive right in for more.
Deciding to tease him, you walk closer to him, hands going around his neck, playing with the hair by his neck. In response his hands wrap around your waist as they rest above your ass.
"Am I the only one you've cooked this for? Just asking since it's so 'famous'."
"Yes, Baby. I used to eat this in college before I met your pretty ass." He responds coyly, Smirking at you, gaze never leaving your figure.
"Mhm okay, l-let's eat." You stutter.
You quickly let go of him, feeling hot all of a sudden as you grab a spoon to eat.
"Wait- let me show you how to eat it." Jungkook stops you, gently taking the spoon out of your hand.
He scoops some rice first and goes over to the pot, scooping his mix into it as well, and when he's done with that, he brings it up your lips, ushering you to open your mouth.
"Open, Princess."
You can't help but ask, "you sure this ain't poisoned, Mr Jeon?"
"Yes, Mrs Jeon. Now eat, you look very hungry, my angel." He chuckles.
You open your mouth to where the spoon can enter and he shoves the food into your mouth.
You chew it up, savoring the flavors, while Jungkook watches with doe desperate eyes waiting for your- preferably praises and compliments to his food.
Lowering the hand covering your mouth as you swallow, you dramatically wipe your hands, head nodding like a food critic.
"Its so good! Give me more." You burst into giggles as you watched Jungkooks eyes relax when you give him a compliment as loud as that.
He questions, "it's good, baby?"
You nod at him as you scoop the mix onto your rice, "soo good! Cook this for us everytime okay?"
Jungkook nods at you, making a cute noise with his mouth as he joins you, eating from the pot.
He feels very happy at this moment with his newlywed wife, in the kitchen eating from their newly purchased pots, in their newly purchased home that they worked very hard for.
"I adore you so much." He whispers in your ear, making you shiver from the baritone in his voice.
You shyly cower as you swallow the last bits of your food, "really?" You look up at the taller figure, staring deep into your eyes.
"Really. I love you so much, Mrs Jeon. Thank you for allowing me to be your husband."
"Aww, Kook. You're gonna make me cry- !I love you more." Tears build up at the corner of your eyes and you hide them by kissing Jungkook senseless.
It's not filled with tongue or the desire for sex, just filled with love and feelings.
Cause in this moment he just wants to adore you and you want to adore him too.
~♥︎~
All rights reserved @rerefundslocals. Do not copy my work, I'll find you.
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here4kpopfics · 3 months
Text
Pieces of Greece | KNJ & KSJ
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Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Kim Namjoon x reader Genre: smut, a little fluff, a whole lot of bickering AU: established relationship, fwb to lovers Wordcount: 17,100 on the dot Summary: After the events during Christmas in the Swiss mountains, your boyfriend Namjoon wants to go to Greece for his birthday. And, of course, another surprise in the form of Kim Seokjin. Warnings: There's. So. Much. Smut. Plane sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Namjoon loves to watch but this time he gets to participate. ice play, threesomes the entire time. DVP fun time, creampie, oral in every which way, unprotected sex, it goes on. mxm moments that make my heart happy. IT'S SMUT WITH SOME PLOT OKAY. Rating: M / 18+ AN: Sooooooooooooooo....Many many many many months ago, someone asked if there'd ever be a sequel. i joked there would be a summer vacation. then summer happened and nothing was written. Then I met my favorite @echotoyou and well, they said they loved Swiss Miss and I mentioned the thought of a sequel and they got excited and then Namjoon's birthday was coming up and i thought fuck it and THEY ASKED FOR MOST OF THE SMUT IN THIS OKAY. so this is for my baby starcandy. i love you so much, i hope you enjoy. Thank you to my lovely @theharrowing for beta-reading and @classicscreations for the banner/divider. Also tagging @simp47koreancrackheads for reasons. Enjoy!!! 💜Masterlist | AskBox | AO3
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When Namjoon brought up the idea of an end of summer vacation for his birthday, you were hesitant at first. Last time you let him plan a vacation, he dragged you to the Swiss mountains and it was miserable. 
Well…not all of it was miserable. 
Seokjin being your Christmas present made up for the freezing mountain getaway. 
It’s been almost nine months since then. Seokjin’s been away filming and being a gorgeous model, but you both still kept in contact. The three of you agreed it’d be okay to send photos of you in lingerie sets, Namjoon taking it a step further to send videos of you riding his cock, begging to come. Seokjin would send videos back, specifically to you, of his hand stroking his cock until he was a moaning mess, coming all over himself. 
The two of you met up with him a few times since Christmas. Once in February, once in April, and the last time being very briefly in July when Namjoon watched on as Seokjin fucked you so ridiculously that you squirted all over the hotel bed while he erupted inside of you. 
As far as you were concerned, your relationship with Namjoon was technically still monogamous. At least, until Seokjin became involved and suddenly he was the added friend with benefits for you. Namjoon and Seokjin never got involved with one another; your boyfriend only ever watching on as his best friend fucked you sensless, and fucking you right after so your last orgasm was from the man you loved.
You understood Namjoon loved to watch. Every time you’d look over at him slowly rubbing his hard cock, either with his hand coated in your arousal or with your underwear, his eyes would be watching the faces you’d make in pleasure or the way Seokjin’s cock pounded into you. But there was always a moment where it felt like he wanted to be involved. You’ve tried to ask, but could never find a way to bring it up. 
So you agreed to the trip, hoping you’d get the chance to ask at some point. 
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“Joon, what’d the attendant say?” Your boyfriend makes his way back to where you’re sitting in the terminal, wearing a long summer dress with thin straps. Your flight’s been delayed an hour at this point, and you’re feeling just a tad bit suffocated in this airport that conveniently has the air conditioning down for maintenance. 
“Good news and bad news.” He sighs, plopping down in the seat next to you, “which do you want first?”
“Always start with the bad.”
“Bad news is it’s another ‘forty-five minutes at least’ until we can board.” He pauses for your groan of frustration, fanning yourself with the book cover of some nonsense romance book you found in the gift shop. 
“And the good?”
“The good,” he smiles, handing you the boarding passes, “there aren’t a lot of people on our flight anyway, and the girl thought I was cute so we got upgraded to first class for free.”
Your eyes barely glance at the passes with the upgraded seat locations on them, instead finding their way to the female attendant that had her eyes on your boyfriend. Namjoon might not mind sharing you with another man, but you can’t say the same about you sharing Namjoon with another woman. 
“Y/n. Don’t give her that look.” 
“I’m not giving her a look.”
“Yes you are. You’re giving her that look at my man one more time and I’ll end your happiness look.”
“No I’m no— wait. I have a look like that?” You look at Namjoon with wide eyes, a grin slowly creeping across your face. “That’s so cool. Is it easily readable? Do I have others?” 
The girl is long forgotten about as you see Namjoon’s beautiful dimples appear with his smile as he leans closer to whisper in your ear. 
“Yeah. You make some other ones. Like when you’re about to come all over me. When I’ve fucked you so hard that you’re about to black out. The face you make when you realize you’ve taken every inch of me is my favorite, though.”
Your face flushes in heat as you sit completely still, eyes staring straight ahead. You hear him chuckle next to you before kissing your temple, leaning back in his seat with an arm resting against the back of yours. The goosebumps on your skin and the back of your neck raise with every pass his fingers make across your shoulder and back. You know it’s for comfort, but it feels like the best kind of torture. 
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Shockingly, the wait time is far less than forty-five minutes before you’re one of the first groups to board, letting Namjoon hand over the boarding passes to the attendant. She gives him a big smile and flirty eyes and you have to fight yourself to not give her whatever look Namjoon was talking about. You’re about to spend ten hours on a plane, two weeks in Greece, and potentially the rest of your life with this man. She will be left behind at this terminal; she is no threat. 
If anything, she’s a gift to this world. The first class seats are amazing in comparison to the main cabin seats Namjoon originally booked. You immediately claim the cubby-like seat next to the window, Namjoon sitting in the cubicle parallel to yours. The flight attendant left you both pillows, blankets, a bottle of what deemed fancy water and snacks already laid out for each of you. 
“Is this what Jin experiences with being famous? Because if so, one of us needs to get on it, stat, Joon. Probably you. Make an onlyfans.” You giggle when he ignores you, his face taking a turn at going flush with heat. 
You don’t tease further, getting comfortable in your little bed for the next ten hours. You poke the buttons to make the bed come out from under your feet before returning it to a sitting position and pulling the partition down between you and your boyfriend’s seats. 
“Hi.” You smile at him while he sorts out both of your bags, pulling out your phone charger and handing it to you. “Thank you, Joonie.” You lean across the divider to give him a kiss, laughing when you try to pull back, only to have a giant hand cradle the back of your neck, tugging you back against his lips. 
“I love you, baby.” He whispers, finally pulling away when the surge of other passengers begin to board the plane. You quickly say it back, full love-sick grin on display for him. 
God, you really do love him. 
Halfway through the flight, you’re being nudged awake, pulled from an amazing dream or memory - you can’t tell anymore - of you and Namjoon. Your headphones are slowly pulled off your head as you groggily turn over to find Namjoon leaning through the divider with a smirk. 
“What?” You grumble, wiping your eyes. 
“You were moaning my name.”
“What?” You were moaning in your dream, but surely not in real life? On a plane? 
“Bathroom in five minutes.” Is all he says before sliding the divider back up. All you hear is quiet rustling until you see his top half making its way to the first class bathrooms. 
He can’t be serious. 
He can’t. 
While you love the control Namjoon has over you, and you both share an openness to exploring new kinks and sexual experiences, this wasn’t on either of your lists. 
You watch the time on your phone move slowly, one minute down. 
You shouldn’t do this.
Two minutes down. 
You’ll get caught. 
Three minutes. 
You’ll be banned from flying. And how will you get back home if so? A ship of some sort? 
Four. 
But he’s waiting for you. Possibly hard and you’re soaked from your dream. 
Five. 
You tuck your phone under your pillow, slowly crawling out of your cubicle and tiptoeing your way to the front. Luckily first class only has about eight seats and everyone seems to be sound asleep as you reach the bathroom door, giving one small secret knock. The door unlocks and you creep it open, sneaking your way in. 
“Holy fuck, it’s huge.” You whisper, eyes scanning the bigger than normal airplane bathroom. There’s enough space to have a moderately small sized counter and an actual sink. And enough space for your boyfriend to stand up tall without banging his head on the ceiling. 
“I feel like I should make a joke there, but we have limited time. Turn and bend. Now.” He quietly growls. It’s only then you notice his hardened length in his hand, slowly being pumped as he waits for you to follow instructions. 
“Sir, yes sir.” You quip, ignoring his glare as you turn around and brace yourself against the counter. He parts your legs with his feet, a hand grabbing your waist when you momentarily lose balance. 
“Remember. Not a sound, okay?” He whispers against your ear, tongue tracing down your neck. You quickly nod, skin shivering as he pulls the hem of your dress up, bringing the fabric to the front and giving it to you to hold against your stomach. Your underwear is dropped past your knees and you quickly step one foot out so you can freely move. 
He wastes no time smacking your ass once, grabbing at the meaty flesh right after. You fight back the yelp, covering your mouth as you watch his intense gaze through the mirror. His eyes are glued to your ass while he massages it, watching in awe as your arousal pools at your entrance. 
“Fuck, I love how ready you are for me all the time, baby.” He groans, lining your hips up with his, gliding his cock along your folds. You bite the inside of your cheek to not make a noise. 
“Stop that.” The hand on your hip slides up and around to your neck, pulling you up to his chest. “Don’t bite the inside of your cheek, it’ll get infected.”
“Then don’t tease me.” You rasp, voice straining when his grip tightens around your neck. 
“If you insist.” He gives one bite to your neck before letting you go and bending you forward again. He gives no warning as he realigns himself, pushing past your entrance in one go. 
You let out a silent scream, covering your mouth again with your free hand as you practically hug the sink. There’s no hesitation when he starts pounding into you, both of you a mess of silent moans. 
“Come back up here.” He groans, pulling you back up by your arms. “I think it’s me that has to be careful about sounds, baby. How are you always so fucking tight?”
“Feels so good.” You gasp, fighting the moan building in your throat when he kisses your neck.
He’s about to respond when there’s a small amount of turbulence, causing him to thrust even deeper into you. One of your hands flies to your mouth, followed quickly by him biting your neck. 
Namjoon removes your hand from your mouth, placing his there instead, snaking his fingers past your lips and making you suck. “Get yourself off on my cock, baby. We don’t have time.” You whine, your fingers quickly finding your clit and rubbing. 
Another little bout of turbulence and his cock being buried even deeper inside of you makes you fight against the urge to scream around his fingers, walls clenching as you come around his cock. He comes seconds later, deep inside, holding you close while his lips leave feather kisses across your skin. 
You’re both silent after, his cock remaining tucked deep within your walls as his hands rub up and down your sides realizing you have another five hours before landing. The kiss he places on your shoulder tells you he’s having the same thought. 
“Need help?” He asks in a hushed whisper. You shake your head, letting him pull out. It’s almost awkward having to move around one another to clean up, but Namjoon makes sure to give you his dimpled smile and a quick kiss every passing until he’s ready to go back, leaving you to finish up in peace. 
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The rest of the flight was normal. Half the time you were asleep, the other half playing phone games with Namjoon or listening to music or watching a movie while he was reading. 
When you landed, Namjoon was quick to grab your carry on and usher you off the plane, almost running to baggage claim. 
“Jooooooon, our bags aren’t going to magically appear the second we get to baggage claim. They have to unload the plane first.”
“I know, I know. But…I have a surprise for you.” Namjoon grins, pulling you past baggage claim to where people are waiting for their loved ones to emerge.
And that’s when you swear your heart stops for a moment.
Kim Seokjin.
In Greece.
“Jin?!” You accidentally shout. In hindsight, you’ll understand why Namjoon grabbed your bags and didn’t let you carry anything. You would’ve dropped it all or thrown it across the building as you ran up to your friend and jumped into his awaiting embrace.
“Oh my god, you’re here?! Why are you here?” you start rambling off nonsense, speaking into his neck as he hugs you, holding you in the air with his arms holding just below your ass. “How have you been? How was the movi–”
“Princess, slow down!” He laughs, finally placing you back on your feet. Your hands rest on his forearms, his on your elbows as you finally look at him.
He’s still beautiful. His hair is still the same, if not a little bit longer. You told him he was in his long fluffy era while he’s taking a break from filming last time you saw him. It was fun tugging on it when his mouth was exploring your body. His eyes are a mixture of exhaustion, happiness, and a hint of mischief. He somehow looks bigger, like he’s been working out a lot more. It’s only been two months since you’ve seen him, but it feels like a lot longer. There’s a small ache in your heart when you look up at him, and you’re not even sure when you started crying until his hands cradle your face, thumbs wiping away your tears.
“Why is my beautiful princess crying, hmm? Can’t stand my beauty?” 
You scoff out a sob, lightly smacking him. The ache in your heart turns into a searing jolt at my beautiful princess. 
“Shut up, you’re hideous.” 
“Tell that to Vogue.” 
“Will do. I’ll write a book about it.” 
“Oh, can I have the first copy?”
“Of course. I’ll sign it and everything.” 
“Oh my god, what an honor.”
“I’ve missed you, Seokjin.”
“I’ve missed you too, y/n.”
He pulls you into another hug, tightening his arms around you when you let out a soft squeak.
“Okay, you two, let’s get this vacation underway.” Your boyfriend’s voice drags you out of the hug you’ve missed so much, stepping away from Seokjin to let the two men hug and greet one another while you mind the bags Namjoon must’ve grabbed while you were busy. 
“You’re not gonna run into my arms? Only her?” Seokjin playfully pouts at your boyfriend, who rolls his eyes in response, grabbing your hand in his.
“Nah, that’s her thing.” 
“What’s your thing then?” you ask, tilting your head to the side with a smirk.
“Later.” 
He doesn’t look at you, so you turn to look at Seokjin instead, who has an eyebrow raised at you. You shrug in response, giving him a look that says I’m just as confused and walk out with your boyfriend and best friend. 
“So, welcome to Athens.” Seokjin starts and he and Namjoon load the bags into the back of the small car, “I’ll be your driver today and the rest of the time we’re here until we get to–”
“Don’t say it, hyung.” Namjoon quickly interjects as you get in the passenger seat.
“Don’t say what?” You turn to look at your boyfriend sitting behind the driver’s seat. 
“You haven’t told her any of the plans?” Seokjin looks in the rear view mirror in astonishment. 
“Nope. And it stays that way.”
“Boo.”
“Lame.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Joon, it’s your birthday. Why am I the one being surprised?”
He doesn’t say anything more, giving Seokjin a knowing smile that frustrates you when he raises his eyebrows and grins in response. 
You pout, “I hate you both.”
“Lying is bad for your health, princess.” 
Your annoyance with the two men in the car is quickly forgotten about when Seokjin starts driving through Athens. Everything is gorgeous. You get a little giddy, driving through streets you refuse to admit to going through on Google maps, or seeing structures you’ve seen in video games. 
“Princess, look out my window.” Seokjin’s hand lightly grabs at your thigh to get your attention, making you swivel around to look out his window where you can just make out a building you know you’ve climbed in an Assassin’s Creed game. 
“Is that the Parthenon?!” The question is rhetoric, but your excitement is overflowing. “Holy shit, we’re actually in Greece! Can we go see the Olympic park? The observatory? Oh! Joon there’s some really cool art museums there, too! Can we go there?”
“Baby, breathe.” Your boyfriend laughs, Seokjin snickering beside you, his hand still on your thigh, “we’ll go tomorrow first thing. Today we just need to get to the hotel and get dinner.” 
“How are we going to do all this in two weeks? Greece is huge.” You plop back in your seat, huffing in response. 
It’s only now you notice Seokjin’s hand on your thigh, following the limb up to its owner who has his eyes switching from the road to the gps, slightly confused expression on his face in concentration. You turn your head to look at Namjoon, whose eyes are on the hand on your thigh, a soft smile he tries to hide when he realizes you’re looking. 
It’s confusing. It should be Namjoon’s hand there, and yet it still feels right. You love Namjoon. Absolutely head over heels in love with him. 
But in comes Seokjin. The man you’ve had a crush on for years. Who you finally found out actually had feelings for you too. 
You adore Seokjin. You always will. You probably could’ve fallen in love with him if he had said anything back then. But then what would’ve happened with Namjoon? Your stomach drops at the thought.
You silently thank any and every god there is that neither you or Seokjin said anything and that you met your boyfriend. And that by some weird miracle, he’s willing to share you with no one other than Seokjin.
You’re so spaced out, you barely notice when Seokjin pulls into the parking lot of where you will be staying. It’s a gorgeous private villa, an elegant white building with a mixture of modern and Greek design. You hop out of the car while the two men grab the bags. 
“You got a whole house?” You’re not sure if you’re asking Namjoon or Seokjin. But they both respond at the same time. 
“Yes.”
“Yup. Privacy is priceless.” Seokjin chimes in. You roll your eyes with a smile, grabbing the key from him and unlocking the door. 
“There’s three king sized beds and two smaller ones. I took one of the king ones just off the kitchen.” Seokjin guides you both through the house, bags left by the front door with your shoes, “there’s a sauna, a little gym, air conditioning thank god, and a bunch more I haven’t actually explored yet.” 
“With how much we’ll be exploring, we don’t really need a sauna or a gym or anything like that. Y’all really love to go overboard.” You poke both of them in their sides, Namjoon quietly grabs your wrist while Seokjin dramatically cries out as if you’ve stabbed him. 
“It’s nice to have the option, princess!” His dramatics will never cease to amuse you, “Aish, now I’m going to bruise and it’s all your fault.” He rubs his side as he walks away, heading towards the kitchen. 
“Let him have the weird accommodations, baby. He’s a celebrity like that.” Namjoon speaks next to your ear, wrapping his arms around your middle and hugging you. 
“He’s weird.”
“And yet…” his voice trails off, his nose nudging against your throat when he kisses your shoulder. 
“And yet…” you sigh, repeating the statement back. You both silently stand in the middle of the living area, Namjoon leaving kisses across your shoulder, and you staring out the window. You can see just enough of the city of Athens, it feels like a dream. 
“I’m gonna shower really quick, go keep Seokjin entertained, hmm?” Your boyfriend kisses your temple, humming when you agree. He gives your ass a light smack before he walks away, grabbing the bags and taking them to a room with a bathroom. 
You find your way to the kitchen where Seokjin is holding two bottles of wine in either hand, eyes flicking back and forth on each label. He looks up when you enter, eyes scanning next to you before he pouts. 
“Where's Joon?”
“Shower. Told me to entertain you.” You shrug, walking with a little skip over to him. He smirks as you hop up on the island counter, placing the bottles of wine on the main counter away from you. 
“And how do you plan on entertaining me, princess?” His tone teases and you shrug once again, kicking your feet out a little as you rest your palms on the counter’s edge. 
“I dunno. How would you like to be entertained?” You know where this is going, you haven’t seen or felt him in over two months. You miss him. So much. 
And he has clearly missed you just as much when he grabs your kicking feet, moving them to spread your legs so he can stand between them. One of his hands finds the back of your head, fingers curling in your hair, as he brings your lips to his. 
It’s slow and deep, but it quickly turns heated and desperate when his head turns to the side to gain better access. Your lips part and you let out a soft moan that he quickly swallows, tongues fighting against one another as he keeps his fingers tangled in your hair and the other hand gripping your hip tight. 
Your hands stay cradling his face, desperate to remember how he feels when kissing you so desperately. 
“God, princess, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”  
“Me too.” You pant between kisses. 
“How often I look at those photos you sent me or the videos Joon sent of you taking his cock so deep. It fucking killed me every time.”
“Jin.” You moan when his lips trail down to your clavicle. 
“I don’t need to see old buildings or art or any of that, I’d rather spend the next two weeks fucking you with Namjoon.” He curses against your skin, your dress’s straps falling off your shoulder. Your breasts are so close to spilling out, if not for a third voice causing you both to jump, you pulling the straps back up to cover yourself. 
“As much as I would like to have two weeks to fuck our baby stupid, I didn’t plan this trip for that.” Namjoon gives a mischievous smirk. You know he might not have planned for that. But he did plan something. You just don’t know what. 
“As long as I get to taste her at some point.” Seokjin says, smiling up at you as he speaks to your boyfriend. 
“You will, but for now she should shower the plane off of her and get ready for dinner.” 
You nod, sighing as you tap Seokjin’s arms to let go of you. He backs away, letting you hop down and toward your boyfriend who grabs your waist as you walk by, tugging you to stand in front of him. 
“Be a good girl, and you’ll get rewarded.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. You give him a playful glare, stepping to the side and walking past him, towards the bathroom he used.
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You shower quickly, changing into another summer dress, this one a mix of green and blue chiffon with beautiful off-shoulder straps that fall perfectly in place just below your shoulders. Even though it’s about five in the evening, it’s still ridiculously hot. You put barely any makeup on, fixing your hair up to stop yourself from sweating down your back. 
When you return to the kitchen, Namjoon is bothering Seokjin while he’s focused on pouring the three of you some wine, making sure it’s an equal amount for each of you. What takes you by surprise, however, is Namjoon’s chin resting on his friend’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his middle like he does with you. 
Oh. 
Suddenly it makes sense. 
“There she is!” Seokjin’s voice pipes through the kitchen. Namjoon slowly backs away from Seokjin’s back, grabbing two glasses of wine and bringing one to you. 
“You look stunning, baby.” 
“Thank you. It’s too hot.” You pout, taking the wine and giving a small thanks. You join him and Seokjin back in the kitchen where he’s prepared a little plate of snacks to go with the wine. 
“That’s Greece. I don’t think it’s ever cold?” Namjoon shrugs, taking a sip of his wine. 
“I bet it’s like LA. Maybe cold like once or twice a year.” Seokjin pops a cracker into his mouth. You share a look with Namjoon, both of you snickering. 
“Oh, look at this fancy boy, saying LA like it’s so casual for him.” You tease, taking a big sip of the wine. 
“Ha ha ha. Keep being jealous.” He deadpans. 
“Me? Jealous? Of your exhausting life? Absolutely not, handsome. I like being in Seoul where I sleep and eat and the only traveling I do is to various museums and art galleries for work.”
“Ah, yes. Our little curator. That’s how you stole her from the world, right Namjoon?” 
“I didn’t steal her.”
“More like held me hostage.”
“In bed I assume?” 
“Of course. Then I think it became some sort of Stockholm Syndrome and I fell in love.”
“A true romance right there. Can I tell that story at the wedding?” 
“Please. I’ll write it all down for you.” 
“Thank you, princess. I’ll memorize it and give the best performance.”
“I know you will.”
“God, I forgot what it’s like when you two get together.” Namjoon groans, leaning over the counter to bury his head in his arms. You look over at Seokjin in feigned shock. 
“I feel like he’s being rude and offensive.”
“So rude. So offensive.” 
“Extremely.”
“I thought you loved us!” Seokjin exclaims dramatically, hand on chest and fake tears starting to build up. 
“I do!” He laughs almost manically, lifting his head up and running his fingers through his hair. “It’s like you’re twins or something, it’s so much.” 
You giggle, leaning across the counter to soothe your boyfriend. 
“We’ll tone it down a bit, babe. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” Seokjin shrugs, a smug look on his face. He exclaims when you lightly hit his shoulder, “What? He said he loves me! I’m over the fucking moon right now.” 
All three of you laugh, finishing up your wine and snack grazing. Seokjin orders a cab for the three of you to take to a fancy restaurant by the beach where there’s even more wine. Multiple bottles of it. 
You barely remember the dinner, only remembering that the wine kept coming and resulted in both men having their hands on you the entire night. Whether it was Namjoon’s hands on your waist while standing in a crowd, or Seokjin’s hand clutching yours tight while guiding you through the masses of people. 
The light touches on your arms at dinner or your thighs in the car, they both knew what they were doing to you and fully aware of the hold they had on you. 
At one point, you ended up in a square that had people performing live music and people dancing to it. Seokjin dragged you and Namjoon to the makeshift dance floor, making you dance with your back against his chest and Namjoon facing you. Your hips swayed perfectly against Seokjin’s, pressing just right against his cock while Namjoon’s was pressing against your lower stomach. 
Both men covered either side of your neck with kisses, really testing your ability to not moan in public. It took you mumbling something about going home for them to stop, quickly getting a ride back to the private villa. 
The moment you hit the mattress, Namjoon has you splayed out on the bed, your summer dress riding dangerously high up your legs. Seokjin stands at the edge of the bed, quietly taking his shirt and pants off. 
Namjoon, still fully clothed minus his shoes, crawls over your body, deeply kissing you while his hand roams your entire body. His lips trail down your neck to your shoulder where he stops for a moment. It’s when he lets out a heavy sigh that you feel a sense of panic. 
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m too drunk.”
“What?”
“I can barely stay awake, baby.” He rolls off you, laying on his side while he hugs a pillow. 
“But…”
“Jinnie can take care of you. Right, hyung?” He barely opens his eyes to look at the older male, who looks just as confused as you do. “You just can’t fuck her though. Have her ride your thigh. That should do it.”
His eyes fall shut and you sit up, not sure what to do next. You look over to Seokjin, who’s looking at you for confirmation of what to do next, standing there in his underwear that’s straining his cock right now. 
“Should we go to your room?” You ask tentatively, moving to get up when he nods.
“No.” Namjoon’s voice returns from its slumber. “I wanna hear it. Do it here.”  
“Joonie, you’re tired.” You try to reason, but you know for a fact you’d rather do it here than without him there. 
“Here or not at all, baby.” His tired groan sounds serious, so you nod again, bending over to kiss his cheek, a small dimple appearing from his smile. 
“I love you, Joonie.”
“Love you too.” 
You turn back to Seokjin, a hand reaching out that he quickly takes, pulling you up to meet his standing position with your knees on the bed.  
“We don’t have to.” He murmurs, fingers delicately tangling with yours while his other hand finds your waist, bunching up the fabric there. 
You shake your head, leaning forward to softly meet his lips with yours. Kissing Seokjin is an experience every time. His plush pout’s ability to take over the kiss, and the moans he makes when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth to try to regain control, makes you want to crumble into a pile of goo. 
“I need something, anything, Jinnie. Please?”
You rarely call Seokjin by the nickname Namjoon and Yoongi gave him years ago. You could probably count on one hand how many times you’ve said it. While it was a loving joke type of nickname from the guys, it always felt almost too intimate coming from you. So you have always stuck with Jin. 
Seokjin sighs, smiling at your adorable pouty expression. He whispers okay before leaning in to kiss you again, “what princess wants, princess gets.” 
Giant hands maneuver you so he can lay down. When you twist your body to straddle his lap while facing him, the big hands still your hips. 
“Ride my face.” 
Funny how three little words can make your entire body feel like it’s on fire.
You quickly look over to Namjoon who has his eyes closed, pillow tucked against his chest, but there’s a smile there that you know was in response to Seokjin’s order. 
You huff out, moving to crawl further up Seokjin’s body, but you’re stopped again when you’re just about over his face. 
“Turn around.”
“What?”
“If I can’t fuck you right now, I need your mouth to remind me what it can do.” 
You nod, afraid if you speak, it’ll be mushed up nonsense, and turn around, getting on your hands and knees facing away from Seokjin. His hands grab your upper thighs and tug you closer to his face, making you gasp and almost fall forward when you lose balance on your hands. 
“The dress has to go, y/n.” He gives your ass a light squeeze and you quickly rid the dress from your body. Jin lets out a low hum of approval at your matching bra and underwear; a deep crimson red and satin set.
“Every time…” he says under his breath, hooking his fingers into the side of your underwear and pulling it to your knees. You awkwardly lift one so he can move the underwear off it, not caring about the other leg. 
You palm Seokjin’s cock through his briefs, smiling softly at the sound he makes. 
You don’t hear his response, only gasping when he tugs your lower half down to meet those plush lips of his as he licks a long stripe through your folds, lips wrapping around your clit. 
“Fuck, Jin.” You whimper, head dropping to his hip as you slowly rut against his face. His hand smacks the side of your thigh, making you still. 
“Let me take care of you, princess.” He says, almost as a warning. 
You nod, forgetting he can’t see you, and lift your head up. With one of your shaking hands, you free his cock from the confines of his briefs, momentarily laughing when he tries to kick the fabric off his body. 
A harsh suck against your clit stops you from laughing. 
You pull yourself together again, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. You fondly remember when you saw it for the first time last Christmas. You wanted so badly to touch it, hold it in your palm to feel how heavy it was. But there was a desperate need the first time you were with him. Now, nine months later, you had all the time in the world. 
Leaning down, you kiss the tip of his cock, enjoying the way it twitches at the contact followed by Seokjin’s light moan. You do it a few more times, on the tip, down the shaft, a kiss or two lands on his balls. Each kiss earns a twitch or a groan. Just as his tongue dives deep in your folds, you gather enough spit to trickle past your lips and onto his cock, using your hand to spread it around before slowly lowering your mouth down his now leaking member. 
You let his cock prod the back of your throat for a moment, thanking whatever gods that you barely have a gag reflex, and hum around him. Your nails dig into his thighs as he groans against your center, a hand smacking your ass. 
“Princess, what the fuck are you doing to me.”
His hips buck up, his cock somehow finding its way deeper down your throat. You cough, fighting the urge to pull off as his hips continue to buck up, your hands finding the bedding to brace yourself as he fucks your throat. You whine when two fingers ease past your folds, curling inside of you to press against your walls. 
It’s not long after that, that you’re crying, coming around his fingers and tongue and whining around his cock. Seconds later, he’s coming as well, bitter liquid shooting down your throat. 
You’re so lost in focusing on swallowing and not choking that you don’t hear the small breath of a laugh coming from your boyfriend. 
Seokjin, however, heard perfectly. 
“Ya, your girl’s a menace.”
You lift your throat off his cock, taking slow but short breaths as you look over at your boyfriend whose eyes travel from your lips down to his best friend’s soaked cock, some cum still coated around him. 
You glance down at the wet spot at his crotch. 
“Are you still too tired?” Your voice rasps. He nods, but your eyes stay locked on his crotch. 
Seokjin pats your ass, signaling for you to crawl off just enough that he can get off the bed. 
“I’m gonna shower and head to bed. Tomorrow we will explore Athens.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek before turning to the door and heading to his room. You smile, turning back to your boyfriend who has his eyes barely opened, watching you. Your eyes go back to the wet patch. 
“Let me take care of you, Joonie.”
“Baby…”
“Please?” 
“I’m fine, baby. Come to bed.” Sighing, you lay down next to him, your leg finding its way between his as you lean in just enough, connecting your lips to his. He moans deeply, tasting Seokjin on your tongue. Your suspicions are confirmed as you feel the bulge in his pants move underneath you. 
“You sure you don’t want me to take care of that?” You tease against his lips. Your hand sneaks between you both, but is quickly grabbed by Namjoon’s. 
“Yes, baby. I’m sure.” He smiles, eyes shut as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your fingers briefly. “Sleep.” 
You murmur defeat, getting off the bed to brush your teeth and change into a large shirt to sleep in. When you come back to bed, Namjoon is fast asleep on his back, his arm splayed out waiting for you. You pout, crawling into bed and curling up against his side. The moment your head rests on his shoulder, his arm moves on instinct to wrap around your back, thumb moving back and forth against your shoulder. 
It’s not until you’re at the edge of falling asleep that you realize this is the first time Namjoon let you be with Seokjin without claiming you after or being the one to make you come last.
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Athens is beautiful. You spent the first three days simply wandering around the ancient city, going from ruin to ruin and museum to museum.
This is how you met Namjoon. You were part of the opening of a new museum in Seoul and Yoongi dragged Namjoon as his plus one. You both immediately hit it off and have been in love ever since. 
Yoongi demanded to be one to marry you both, getting ordained on your one year anniversary just in case. 
Museums and art galleries quickly became your thing with Namjoon. While it was a part of your job to constantly be in museums and galleries, it’s your dream job for a reason. And what could be better than finding someone who loves your job as much as you do? 
Seokjin, however, never showed any particular interest in museums or art in general. Sure, he’d go and take pictures either of or in front of the art, post it to socials, and come up with some horrible dad joke. But he couldn’t stand the idea of spending hours walking around looking at things from years and years ago. 
But you have to give him brownie points, he persevered the few days in Athens, knowing there would be wine and delicious food at the end of it all. And potentially a blow job from you. 
Namjoon still refused you both from actual sex, making you and Seokjin pout or whine. Seokjin almost begged one night, much to Namjoon’s delight, but he still said no. 
After Athens, the three of you packed your bags and boarded a boat to head to the next stop in Greece. Seokjin was beyond excited, Namjoon had a smug smile the entire way over, and you were completely clueless. 
That is, until you stepped off the boat onto a wooden deck and it clicked immediately. 
“Is this…?”
“Where they filmed Mamma Mia? Yes. Yes it is.” Namjoon replies, helping Seokjin off the boat after you. 
“Ahhh, it’s even prettier in person!” Seokjin's voice squeaks, running to stand next to you, hand grabbing yours. 
You grin, trying to avoid screaming like you want to. Mamma Mia has and always will be one of your favorite films. It’s your comfort movie and you and Seokjin would watch it consistently when either of you had a shitty day. You’d always end up standing on the couch or coffee table dramatically singing along with the ABBA songs or quoting the movie and acting them out while it played in the background. 
Still holding Seokjin’s hand, you turn to your boyfriend, who’s making sure all the luggage is accounted for. 
“Oh, right. Sorry, Joonie.” You drag Seokjin back to Namjoon, both of you grabbing as much luggage as you can and following the other tourists off the dock. 
Again, Seokjin arranged for a private villa. This one, however is smaller, only has one bed as well as a couch, and no air conditioning. 
The first two days aren't a problem. The weather is cool, the clouds covering the sun a majority of the day, and an amazing ocean breeze to make you shiver every now and again. The three of you travel around the island, you and Seokjin giggling every time you find a spot from the movie and having Namjoon take a photo of the both of you mid-reenactment. 
During the third and last day on Skopelos, however, there was a heat wave. And it is miserable to put it nicely. 
So miserable, none of you want to move. Seokjin is groaning that Greece isn't going anywhere. And you are complaining that days like this are why Google Street View exists. Namjoon is huffy at you both, deciding to go for a run while you two lie around, complaining about the heat. 
It is on his run, however, when a perfect idea pops into his head as he sees some locals with frozen treats. 
When he comes in, he finds you lying on the tile floor, your flowy summer dress draped around your body and the floor, and Seokjin on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge and the other off the back of the couch. You both look ridiculous as Namjoon heads to the kitchen. 
“Jooooooonie, can you make the fan do more?”
It’s a silly question to ask, you know the answer. But you have hope. 
“Nope, baby. Sorry.” He answers, head in the freezer. “I have a better idea, though. Hyung, come here.” 
He groans, throwing himself off the couch dramatically and playfully stomping his way to Namjoon in the kitchen. He’s about to speak when the two exchange glances. Seokjin glances down at the bowl in his hand and grins, nodding quickly as if to agree to Namjoon’s silent question. 
“Princess.”
“Baby.”
They speak at the same time, causing you to tilt your head backwards, looking at the upside down men quizzically. 
“Hmm?”
How’s the tile down there?” Your boyfriend asks, hands behind his back. 
“It’s cooler than the bed.” You answer slowly as Seokjin sits behind you, Namjoon moving to sit in front of you.
“Wanna play a game?”
“You wouldn’t let me bring my switch, so we can’t unless there’s one here…”
“No. Princess. A game.” 
It takes a second to process, but when it finally clicks, Namjoon’s already starting to spread your legs, the dress’s fabric falling to your hips. 
“Joonie, it’s too hot…”
“Right. It is way too hot. Which is why I want to play a game.”
You question what he means, allowing Seokjin to lift your head and shoulders enough to tuck himself underneath you, letting your upper torso and your head to rest against chest
“I just wanna help you cool down, baby.” He smirks, bringing the bowl into view for you to see what he means. It’s a small but deep bowl full of ice cubes and pieces alike. 
Fuck. 
You’re not sure if you say it in your mind or out loud. Possibly out loud since both men grin wide, snickering as Namjoon spreads your legs further. You relax into Seokjin’s chest, his hands finding the bottom of your dress and shimmying it up your torso. You lift your ass off the ground ever so slightly so he can pull the dress further up until he fully removes it, tossing it to the side. 
“Gonna be a good girl for us, princess?” Seokjin smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 
“What are the rules?” You ask softly, your hands finding Seokjin’s forearms resting on your shoulders. 
“The rules, baby, are simple.” Namjoon grins, picking up one of the ice cubes, holding it in his fist to help it melt down a bit. 
“Move, and we stop. Come before we say so, and we stop.”
“I don’t like those rules.” You pout, Namjoon rolls his eyes, ignoring you while Seokjin snickers. 
“There’s our princess being a brat.”
“Those are the rules, baby. Follow them and you get rewarded.”
“What’s the reward?”
Namjoon looks up to Seokjin, eyebrows raised at Seokjin’s questioning gaze. 
“It’s a surprise.” He finally answers, putting the ice cube back in the bowl and trailing his frozen cold hand up your body. You shiver, fighting the urge to pull away from the freezing hand. 
“I like to know what I’m winning.” You grumble through chattering teeth, your boyfriend's hand softly gliding up your waist to behind your back. 
“I know you do, baby. And I promise you, you’ll feel so fulfilled after.” He whispers, undoing the clasp on your bra. 
“Joon.” You whine, fingers digging into Seokjin’s arms after your bra gets removed. 
“Ready, baby?” 
You nod, hating his teasing tone. 
He grabs the ice cube again, it already melting in his palm as he hovers his hand above your chest. All three of you wait as the little drop of freezing water develops under his grip, slowly getting ready to drip down. 
You feel yourself breathing harder, chest rising faster as you watch the droplet. When it finally drops, it feels like a spike of ice landing
But before the drop can land on your skin, Namjoon’s pulling it away again.
“New rule. Close your eyes, baby.”
You whine again, body wiggling in anticipation. 
“Eyes, princess. Let us make you feel good.” Seokjin whispers against your temple. You nod, shutting your eyes tight and leaning further back into Seokjin’s embrace. 
Not even seconds later, you feel a drop of water drip on your chest between your breasts.
“Fuck!” You yelp, body lifting off the ground from the initial shock. 
“Already breaking the rules, baby. Stay still or we stop.” Namjoon’s deep voice teases as another few drops land across your chest. 
“Okay. Okay okay okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes shut as you grip onto Seokjin’s arms even more to stay still.
You have no idea where the ice is going to be next, your body tensing in preparation for another jolt of cold against your skin. It’s almost torture how long between drops Namjoon lets it be before you feel a full cube against the bottom curve of your breast. 
You let out a high pitched whine, forcing yourself to stay still as he glides the ice all around your breasts, to across your clavicle, down the sides of your waist and across your middle section. Your breathing returns to rapid breaths, shivering with goosebumps as well as just pure arousal. 
You can’t tell what’s turning you on more; the frozen water being softly dragged across your sensitive skin, or the melted water that remains in its path, dripping down your sides and making its way to your back. 
Opposite of the freezing ice, however, is how hot Seokjin’s skin feels behind you. It almost feels like the ice dripping behind you is evaporating the moment it makes contact with his skin. 
It’s too hot. 
But you want more. 
Need more. 
The last piece of ice melts directly over your belly button, your breath stuttering when Namjoon’s hand goes flat across your stomach, gliding up to between your breasts and around your throat. 
“Good girl. Ready for more?” 
You whimper out a yes, your legs subconsciously spreading further for him, like your body begging where to go next. 
“Remember. No movements, princess.” Seokjin teases, having noticed your legs. 
You huff out in complaint, but it quickly turns into a shaking gasp when there’s an ice cube tracing up your inner thigh. Namjoon skips over where you want it most, dragging the cube to your other thigh and back up to your lower stomach, dancing the cube along the waistline of your underwear. 
“Joonie, please.”
“Please what?” 
“I hate the teasing.” You pout petulantly, head twisting to the side to bury your face in Seokjin’s arm. You’re desperately trying to ignore the hardening bulge pressing up against your back.
“Mmmm, I’d say otherwise, baby. You’re soaking through.  I mean, hyung just look at how soak—”
A string of curse words leave your lips, unable to hear anything the men are teasing about, when Namjoon presses a cube directly over the wet patch of your underwear, fitting perfectly against your folds and your clit. 
“Ya! No biting!” Seokjin’s voice yells, prying your mouth away from his bicep. 
Namjoon pulls the ice away, giving your clothed center a light smack. Your hips jerk from the sensation, fighting back the urge to open your eyes. 
“‘M sorry, Jin.” You whimper, kissing where you think you bit. 
“I don’t know if I should forgive you, princess. That was a very bad thing to do.”
“No no, I’ll be good. Please.”
There’s silence. With the inability to see them, you can’t tell if they’re silently discussing whether to punish or reward you. 
“I feel like she’s been through enough, Joonie. Maybe we should just stop here.”
“She can take more.”
“I can. I can do it. Please.” 
“What’s the word, baby?”
“Wendigo.” You let out a breathless laugh, the two men snickering at the memory. 
Namjoon taps your hip, telling you to lift so he can remove your underwear, tossing it aside with your dress. You feel movement down between your legs before you feel a sudden warm breath, making your toes curl. 
“Remember, princess. No movement.” 
You nod vigorously, clutching onto Seokjin again when Namjoon’s warm tongue licks a full stroke up your folds, the tip teasingly dancing against your clit. 
He’s vicious with the way he teases you, breathing against your soaked center with his hot breath before bringing the melting cube to your clit when he can feel you’re close. Your constant moans and cries only encourage him further as he pops the cube into his mouth, settling it below his tongue, and dancing it at your entrance. The switch between warm tongue and ice cube is infuriating to say the least.
“You’re being such a good girl, princess. I think Joonie might reward you soon.” Seokjin’s deep voice against your ear sends a different kind of shiver down your spine. 
Namjoon’s mouth pulls away from your throbbing center, giving your inner thigh a light kiss. You take a deep breath, eyes still shut, as you wait for whatever pleasurable torture was next. 
But nothing happens. 
Nothing happens for what feels like eternity but, in reality, it’s only a minute or two before you feel your boyfriend’s body move away from you. The sounds of shuffling as well as Seokjin letting you go slack against his body.
“Do you trust me, baby?” Namjoon’s voice comes from where you think the kitchen is located. You nod, muttering out of course while leaning further into Seokjin’s chest. 
“Let’s move her to the couch, hyung. Baby, keep your eyes shut.” Seokjin does as he’s told, lifting you up carefully and bringing you to stand in front of the couch. It sounds like more ice is being put into the ceramic bowl. Your body shakes at the thought.
“Sit, hyung.” When you hear movement to the left of you, you can only assume Seokjin’s following orders. 
“Jagi…” Namjoon’s voice is suddenly right in front of you, a big cold hand softly caressing your waist. The temperature makes you jump, but you settle into it immediately.
“I think hyung was right, you deserve a reward. I’m gonna sit you down on hyung’s cock, and you’re gonna be good and take it all, right?”
You nod again, pouting slightly when he reminds you to keep your eyes closed as he leads you back. Your hands reach behind you, finding Seokjin’s immediately as he and Namjoon help you onto the couch. They sit you down on Seokjin’s lap, your legs spread and hooked on either side of his thighs. Seokjin lets go of one of your hands to wrap around his cock, giving himself a few pumps before his tip meets your entrance. 
“Ready, princess?” 
“Please.” You beg, head falling back when he presses the tip past your folds, slowly easing himself inside of you. 
“Good job, baby. Keep taking his cock, take every inch.” Namjoon’s praises sound like they’re coming from below you, but you’re not sure, unable to focus as you try to relax around Seokjin’s massive length. 
Once you give the okay to Seokjin, he sinks down on the couch a bit more, bringing you back to plant your feet on the cushion so his hips are free to move at the pace he knows drives you crazy. 
You cry out, it’s been months since you’ve had him inside you and it feels so fucking good, you could write poems and songs about how good his cock feels filling and stretching you out with every thrust. 
“Fuck, please. Please let me come. Feels too good. Plea— oh, fuck.” Your body jolts at the sudden feeling of ice against the junction where your pelvis meets your thigh. Seokjin’s hands quickly steady you, massive hands holding your waist still while he continues to fuck you. 
The moans you make are pornographic as the ice cube slides around your skin, gliding and dancing around your pulsing clit that when he finally brings it there, you let out a sharp gasp. You bite your bottom lip, trying to fight the curses you want to scream at the top of your lungs. 
Namjoon quickly removes the cube from against your sensitive bundle of nerves, questioning Seokjin for permission to something you can’t hear because you’re too focused on Seokjin’s cock hitting exactly where it needs to. 
When you hear Seokjin whine, saying yes, he slows down his thrusts, hands bringing your waist down to sit on his lap with his cock fully inside of your clenching walls. 
You resist asking them what they’re doing, knowing it’s pointless. You lean your head against Seokjin’s shoulder, facing his neck as your lips find skin. 
You’re about to press soft kisses against the skin when a sharp bolt of ice courses through your body. 
Your eyes snap open, looking down at where you and Seokjin are connected and you nearly come just from the sight of Namjoon’s tongue shoving a small mostly melted ice cube past your entrance and against the bulging vein around Seokjin’s cock. 
Your boyfriend’s tongue is on your best friend’s dick. 
Okay, maybe it’s not on his dick, but it’s close enough to just graze over that counts. 
The fingers holding onto your waist dig deep into your skin as Seokjin groans at the feeling of the ice cube being kept inside of you by his dick. 
You whine, head leaning back again and shutting your eyes once more as you feel the cube, melting fast, make its way inside of you, being eased deeper by the head of Seokjin’s cock. 
“How’s it feel, baby?” Your boyfriend’s voice rumbles against your skin as he sits up on his knees, large hands on your thighs, watching the way you take Seokjin’s cock. 
“So fucking good.” You whimper. 
“Fucking heaven.” Seokjin whines behind you, hips beginning to lose their rhythm, teeth grazing your neck. “I won’t last long, fuck it’s so impossible to last long with you, y/n.”
You let out a soft laugh, a moan mixing through it, as you reach behind you, tugging Seokjin’s hair to pull his face back to yours, trapping him in a kiss. 
“Come for me, Jin. Fill me up. Please.” You repeat your request against his lips until you’re wincing from his teeth catching your bottom lip and one last thrust. The sensation of his cum filling you up makes you both moan. 
Namjoon’s hands help you lift yourself just enough that Seokjin’s cock slips out, but he quickly stands, leaning over you both on the couch, and slides himself past your entrance, stuffing his hyung’s cum back inside. 
“Joon!” You cry out, hands flying away from Seokjin and grasping Namjoon’s forearms. 
“Take his cock, princess. Gotta keep all my cum in there.” Seokjin’s strained voice comes from behind you. One hand barely helps to hold you up as the other sneaks away and you hear that damn ceramic bowl with ice being moved around. 
“Don’t you dare.” You mumble, immediately feeling Seokjin laugh under you.
“I thought you could take it, y/n?” Seokjin teases, grasping an ice cube and tracing it along your waist. You gasp, trying to move your body away from the sensation, but Namjoon tugs you back on top of the older man as he starts thrusting. 
Seokjin’s fingers trail the cube up your waist, alongside your ribs, just below your breasts, before finally bringing it to one of your nipples. Your back attempts to arch, but Seokjin’s other hand forces you back down from your stomach until you’re fully lying on him, no longer hovering.
It’s a chaotic mix of teasing, pleasure, and pain as Namjoon’s thumb starts circling your clit as he pounds into you at the same time as Seokjin’s ice trails along your skin. You barely give a warning before you’re crying out over your orgasm, body shaking and trying to grab onto anything you can. 
It’s only seconds later you feel Namjoon’s cock twitch inside of you, making you feel more full than before.
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You wake up to the sounds of Seokjin snoring behind you. Eyes opening wide in panic when he lets out a rather loud one that almost sounds like he’s choking. You try to turn over to check on him, but you’re being held down by one of his arms. 
When your eyes open, you’re met with Namjoon’s closed ones, silently sleeping. He’s hugging his pillow tight, somehow unaware of the loud snores behind you. 
Or so you think. 
You try moving again, freezing instantly when Namjoon’s eyes open, a soft smile forming. 
“Hey, beautiful.” He whispers softly, his voice gravelly from the slumber. 
“Hi?”
“How you feeling?” His question confuses you. 
You feel fine. But you last remember Namjoon coming inside of you and that’s it. 
“Good? I don’t…remember what happened.” You try shuffling close to your boyfriend, but Seokjin’s hold on you is tight. Namjoon lets out a soft giggle, scooting closer to you instead. 
“You kinda passed out…?” His eyebrows raise a little, smile starting to form into a small laugh, “not like anything bad. But, after I came, you were a little loopy? It was amusing. We took care of you though. Cleaned you up and everything.”
“Hmm. I genuinely don’t remember, but thank you, baby.” 
“Where’s my thank you.” The voice behind you grumbles against your skin. You and Namjoon laugh as you twist your face into the pillow, muffling yourself. 
“Thank you, Jinnie” your voice drowns in the pillow. 
“Namjoon should thank me too. I was super helpful.”
You laugh into the pillow. 
“I take thank yous in kisses, please and thank you.” He snickers. You shake your head, twisting your body to face him now. 
“Shut up, hyung.” Namjoon sighs, his hand rubbing up against your waist.
Seokjin’s so pretty when he wakes up. His face is a little extra puffy, but it’s so cute. You love it. 
“I’ll get my kiss from him one day.” He pouts. 
“One day. I believe in it.” You grin, leaning in to give him an obnoxious kiss, pulling away with a loud mwah sound. 
The three of you laze around the rest of the day, only going out to get dinner before returning to sleep. 
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The next day, the three of you make the trip to the final destination: Mykonos. 
It’s an island you had discussed early on in the relationship. Your typical Greece imagery of gorgeous waters, all white buildings and blue trim, beautiful beaches all around. Everything about it was perfect in the images you looked at. But it’s nothing compared to seeing it in person. 
You guys have the last four days here to just relax and enjoy the beaches. 
The day before Namjoon’s birthday, the three of you all separate to do different things. You stay inside, having some work stuff come up that you can't avoid. Seokjin decides to lounge on the deck of the villa you are staying in. It has stairs leading down straight onto the beach. There is a running path just off to the side and Namjoon decides to go see how much of the island he can cover (not much, but he does try).
When you finally finish up with work (you’re going to fight with Taehyung when you get back for directing the issue he could’ve easily fixed to you, knowing full well you are on vacation), you change into a bathing suit, throwing an oversized shirt (whether it’s Namjoon’s or Seokjin’s, you’ll never know) on over it and walk out onto the deck. 
You’ll never get over Seokjin without a shirt. 
He’s leaning over the balcony, in only shorts as his broad shoulders are on full display. The dimples in his back as well as the way his shoulder blades move when he shifts in place is enough to send shivers down your spine. 
You lean against the railing while standing next to him, staying quiet while he’s on the phone, having some sort of back and forth with who you assume is his manager. You’re quickly distracted by the beautiful blue waves rolling in to notice Seokjin repositioning to stand behind you, resting his chin on your head while he continues his phone call. 
“Yeah. I should be back in a few days and then I was hoping to stay in Seoul a few days before New York…but I guess that’s not happening?” 
You pout when he sighs, saying he understands and hanging up. The phone is tucked away in his back pocket while his arms snake around your waist. 
“Already have to go back to work?” 
He nods, moving down to rest his chin on your shoulder. 
“Unfortunately. They actually wanted me to come back tonight but I told him to fuck off.”
“No you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. But I did politely say no and made a compromise to come back asap.” 
“You’re too nice to them.” You pout, watching a couple playing in the ocean waves, “They overwork you. I miss you. Namjoon misses you.”
“I miss you too, princess. I miss you and Joon every time I’m away.” 
“Wanna stay here forever.” It’s a soft mumble, but you know he hears it when he hums in agreement, turning his head to kiss your cheek. You turn your face to him, letting your lips meet in a slow, deep, kiss. 
Again, there’s nothing quite like kissing Seokjin. Namjoon is the love of your life and always will be, but there’s just something about Seokjin’s lips that you crave constantly. Something about the way he holds you both delicately and possessively. Or the way he looks at you after a kiss, like he’s just as lost in it as you are. Like he’s trying to figure out the answer to the question you’ve been asking since that weekend in the Swiss mountains. 
He uses his tongue to tease your lips apart, making you gasp through a moan as he turns you around to face him, hands gripping your waist. 
“Jinnie” you whine, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His lips trail down your jaw to that special spot between your neck and shoulder. 
“I’m sorry, y/n. We shouldn’t unless Namjoon’s around. But,” he leaves a small love bite on your shoulder, “you just have this effect on me. I can’t help it.”
You nod, moaning when you tug on his hair, making him suck harder on your skin. You’re going to be covered in bruises and hickies when you get home. You don’t care. 
“What’d I miss?” Namjoon’s voice breaks you two apart, but only barely. Seokjin’s lips place soft kisses on your cheek and forehead while you look at the man you love. 
“Jin told his manager to fuck off and wait until his vacation is over.”
“No he didn’t.”
“See?” You look at Seokjin, a playful smile and raised eyebrow, “you’re too nice.”
“I have to be. Or it ruins my reputation and makes me look like I’m difficult to work with.”
“But you are difficult to work with.”
“I take it back. I don’t miss you. I only miss Namjoon.” He jokingly shoves you away, stepping to move behind Namjoon, getting on his tiptoes to put his chin on the younger’s shoulder. “You’re too tall.” He grumbles, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s middle. 
Namjoon smirks, hands holding onto Seokjin’s forearms to keep him there. 
“Well, I still think you’re too nice. You guys have fun. I’m going to get in the water.” You laugh, heading down the steps to the beach. You hear snickers, turning back briefly to see Namjoon turning in Seokjin’s arms to face him. 
You look back towards the beach, allowing them privacy even though that word barely exists with you three. 
The water is perfect. It’s not cold like the Pacific Ocean, not weirdly warm like the Atlantic. It’s a perfect balance. 
You let your feet sink into the sand, the gentle waves slowly bringing you closer to the ocean as the sand keeps you still. 
You love it here. 
You love your job, love your life, love your friends, family, and your boyfriend. 
But here? With not only your boyfriend but the man you crushed on for years that you now have the privilege to be with along with your boyfriend? For two whole weeks? 
That’s heaven.
It’s felt right these two weeks with them. Any time it’s been just you and Namjoon, it’s been perfect as usual, but it always feels like something is missing. 
Or rather someone.
You’re not sure how long you’re out here, staring at the horizon. The sand is halfway up your calves and the waves are hitting your upper thighs by the time two large arms wrap around your middle, body draping over your back as lips find refuge on your neck. 
You smile, sighing as you relax in his hold, tilting your head to the opposite side so he has better access. 
“Where’s my Jagi right now?” Namjoon’s voice barely breaks above the waves, only enough because it’s right by your ear. 
“Thinking.” 
“About?” His nose nudges under your ear. 
“Us.�� You pause when you feel him tense, “us and Jin.”
“What about us and Jin?” His body relaxes, but barely. You use his hold on you as support as you pull your feet from the sand, both of you stepping a little further from the ocean when you turn to face him. 
“What is this to you, Joon?” Your arms snake around his neck, fingers dancing through his hair there. “Or rather, what is Jin? I know last year he was my present or whatever, but…that was nine months ago. And after all the texts with photos and videos and the times we’ve been with him…I don’t know. I need some sort of understanding before this gets too much.”
Namjoon’s eyes stay steady on you the entire time, the hands sitting on your waist, holding you gently, yet firm enough to keep you still. His thumbs rubbing circles through the shirt. 
“Too much, how?” Is all he asks. 
“I…I don’t know. Too much like he’s part of this? Too much like my crush from before you comes back and causes issues?”
“How would that cause issues, Jagi?”
“I don’t want to choose…”
“Baby,” Namjoon smirks, leaning in to kiss your forehead, “there is nothing to choose. I’m yours forever and if you want him, too…as long as he wants you back…I’m pretty sure I’ve done nothing but show you I’m very okay with sharing you.”
“That’s nice and all and I love you for that,” you pull away from him just slightly, forcing him to look at you again, “but what about you? What is this to you? It can’t just be me with two boyfriends. I mean, it can. But…what about you and Jin?”
And that’s where his confidence falters, for just a moment, you see it in his eyes and the way his lips twitch. 
He comes up with nothing when his mouth opens to speak, face contorting almost into confusion. 
“Joon? You okay?”
“Yeah…I just…” you let him pause, finding the right words as his eyes flit behind you to the crashing waves. It’s hard to bite back the smile when you try to soothe whatever worries he seems to have by massaging his nape. His eyes close momentarily before opening again, landing on your own. 
“I don’t know yet. But…I think there’s something…between him and I, I mean.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods slowly, eyes back on the ocean, “I just don’t know what exactly it is. If it’s just because of you or if it’s something else entirely? It’s confusing.”
“It’s okay, Joon. You don’t need to figure anything out right this second, but we should all sit down and figure this out at some point…maybe not tomorrow, though.”
“Why not tomorrow?” His head tilts to the side, looking back at you. 
“Your birthday? The whole reason we went on this trip?”
It takes two seconds of silence before he starts fully laughing, having to back away from you to bend over.
“I’ll be one hundred percent honest, I totally forgot.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I was just treating it like a vacation with my best friend and my girlfriend.”
“Oh my god, Kim Namjoon. You’re an actual goober!” You playfully smack his shoulder, laughing with him. He takes the perfect opportunity to launch himself at you, bending slightly to pick you up by your thighs. You both laugh as your legs wrap around his waist, arms around his shoulders again. 
It’s a playful series of events, he threatens to lean forward, dumping you into the waves, you returning the threat with your own of no skin contact for a month, and just all around cuteness between you both that you’d be lying if you said wasn’t one of your favorite things about him. He’s so serious at work, so serious in most social situations. Except for with you, where he can be himself; laughing, dancing badly, making really terrible dad jokes, and just being your Namjoon. 
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That night, the three of you are all dressed up for dinner reservations Seokjin made at the five star restaurant at the resort you’re staying at. 
Both men go for formal casual; slacks, a tucked in button up shirt, leaving the first three buttons undone for an added we’re on vacation and gorgeous models look that Seokjin will not shut up about. 
You dress up in a little black mini dress. It isn't too short to be informal, but just short enough that Namjoon’s hands stay on your thigh during dinner and Seokjin playfully grabs at your ass when you are waiting to be seated. 
Seokjin has the staff come sing happy birthday to Namjoon, the man’s face turning the deepest shades of embarrassment until the staff leave. 
Two bottles of expensive wine and a delicious meal later, the three of you are walking lazily down the pathway back to the villa. Seokjin directly behind you, his hands wandering your body as he kept you against his chest.
Mumbles of your nickname are pressed against your neck as he kisses and licks the skin there, not caring about where you are walking. 
With your head tilted to give him more access, your hazy eyes find your boyfriend a few feet away, holding onto the jacket you thought you might need, as well as your purse and heels you ditched at one point. He’s smiling his I’m tipsy grin, dimples peeking through as he watches his best friend cling to you. 
When you step past the front door of the villa, your body is quickly turned, back pressed up against the wall as Seokjin lifts your legs around his waist to bruise your neck some more. 
Your moans are cut off by your boyfriend’s words. 
“Hyung.” Seokjin quickly removes his lips from your skin. Head turning to look at his friend. “Bed.” Is all he says, tossing your stuff on the couch on the way to the bedroom. Seokjin smirks, tightening his hold on you as he pulls off the wall and heading to the bedroom with you in his arms. 
Namjoon is already standing by the foot of the bed, shirt pulled out of the waistband of the slacks that are unbuttoned, but still sitting on his hips. There’s a very prominent bulge peeking through the pants and it’s amazing how nervous it still makes you after all these years. 
There’s a silent exchange between the two men as Seokjin lays you down on the bed, letting you scoot back towards the headboard as he crawls over you. His mouth is on your neck again, wet lips marking anywhere he can. 
A free hand feels its way down your body, long fingers heading straight to your clothed center. He pushes a finger against your entrance, the fabric gathering up the arousal. 
You both let out a curse, your hips rolling up to meet his hand, trying so hard to get his finger to fully enter you. But it doesn’t, he teases you repeatedly, gathering more slick against your underwear until your boyfriend’s voice off to the side tells him to stop.
It’s almost like deja vu the way Seokjin pulls your underwear off, and hands it directly to Namjoon, who’s sitting in a chair next to the bed, cock already in his hand.
Your eyes stay on the way the underwear slides against his erection, the amount of arousal on the fabric mixing with his own. 
But his eyes? His eyes are on Seokjin. The way his fingers dig into your flesh as they roam your body. 
No. Not again. 
“Jin, off.” You whisper it, having to repeat it a little louder when he ignores you in favor of kissing your jaw. 
“You okay?” His whisper is panicked, hands leaving your skin to hold himself above you by placing them on either side of you on the bed. 
“Yeah,” you nod quickly, “just…the birthday boy.” Your eyes find Seokjin’s and you don’t know when it happened, but somehow you two developed a similar mind. He nods, kissing your nose and rolling off you to sit at the head of the bed, lightly palming himself. 
You grin, crawling off the bed, making sure Seokjin has a perfect view of your soaked center sans underwear. 
“Joonie, join us.” You stand in front of him at his chair, light fingers taking the underwear away from his cock. 
“I’m okay here, baby. Get back to hyung.”
You shake your head, and he doesn’t hesitate to help you when you straddle his lap, his cock teasing your clit as you settle down. 
“Come.”
“That’s my line.” 
You roll your eyes at his beautiful dimples, leaning down to kiss each one. 
“It’s your birthday, Joonie. Let us take care of you.” 
“It’s not my birthday yet.”
“As of seven minutes ago, it is officially your birthday, Kim Namjoon.” Seokjin’s voice comes from the bed, phone in hand with a shit eating grin on his face. You grin as well, looking back at your boyfriend. 
“See? It’s your day, baby.” You coo, brushing his hair back. “What would you like for your birthday?” 
“What are you doing?” He questions, eyes trying to decipher your smile. 
“I just want my Joonie to be happy and properly taken care of.” 
“Yeah?” 
“Yeah. Now, be good and get on the bed.”
“Oh, you’re telling me what to do now?”
You hum, nodding as you stand up between his legs, holding your hands out for him, palms up. He gives you a look before looking over at Seokjin and smiles nervously, taking your hands and standing with you. 
You back up to the bed, pulling him with you with a smile. You only let go to tug the slacks and briefs off the rest of the way.  
“Sit next to Jin.” You quietly command, letting him move past you to get on the bed, sitting next to Seokjin, who at some point pulled all his clothes off except his underwear. 
Still in your dress, you crawl back onto the bed, a smirk forming when it appears Namjoon knows exactly what you’re doing and spreads his legs just slightly. Just enough to let you get comfortable on your stomach and your arms resting on his thighs. 
“Happy birthday, Joonie.” You grin, taking his cock in your hand and giving it a single pump, standing it up in front of you. Your lips sneak small kisses up and down his length, longer ones on his tip, before slowly easing his entire length down your throat. Holding him there in your mouth, a free hand cradles his balls in your palm, giving them a gentle massage that makes him groan, hands clutching your hair. 
“God, she’s too good at that.” Seokjin murmurs, your lips wrapped around Namjoon’s tip, tongue teasing at the slit that’s already oozing with precum. 
“I bet you’d do just— ah, fuck,” Namjoon’s head falls back, hitting the headboard as you take him down in one go without warning. “You’d do just fine, hyung.”
“Oh, I know I would. I’d do more than fine.” Seokjin’s quick to quip and you can’t help but smile internally, lifting your mouth off and away from your boyfriend’s cock. 
“Prove it.”
Both men stare at you, one turning a deep shade, the other almost laughing if not for the shock of the call out. 
“That’s not…” Seokjin stutters, still trying not to smile. 
“Not what? Joonie loves his cock sucked. You have amazing lips and your mouth is big enough, I’m sure you could take him all.”
“Baby.” Namjoon warns but you ignore the tone, looking at him with pleading eyes. 
“Jin needs to prove himself, Joon. Is it okay if he helps me with your cock?”
Namjoon’s eyes stay locked on yours. You can’t tell if he’s angry or nervous, but it’s enough to make you feel like submitting to whatever he wants, but also rebel against everything and anything he says. 
Not to mention, the shooting jolt of arousal you get from just that gaze is enough. 
It’s Seokjin’s voice that breaks through the staring contest. 
“I’ll be good, Joon. I promise.”
Namjoon’s eyes tear away from yours to Seokjin’s so fast, you think his neck would’ve snapped. 
You keep watching your boyfriend for any sort of negative reaction. 
But his eyes dance from eye to eye to lips, back to his eyes and next thing you know, Namjoon is nodding, sliding further down the bed to give you both access. 
You share a look with Seokjin, both ending in a grin as you take place on the bed between Namjoon’s legs. Your boyfriend is muttering something quietly to himself, his arm thrown over his face. 
You give Seokjin’s cheek a kiss, a hand pressing soothing circles into Namjoon’s thigh. Seokjin reaches out for Namjoon’s cock, almost mimicking your actions from moments ago. You watch in awe as his lips prove to be perfect for this activity, his mouth wide enough to take Namjoon down without a problem. 
“Fuck, so fucking good.” Namjoon mutters, biting his forearm. You can’t fight the smirk when you and Seokjin dive in at the same time, licking and kissing along his shaft and tip, both taking turns with his balls. 
Namjoon is going insane, fighting the urges to either force both of you closer to his cock until he’s coming across both of your faces, or to fill Seokjin’s mouth with himself until Seokjin’s crying and coming down his throat. He so desperately wants to regain control, but if this is what happens when he doesn’t have control?
Fuck that. No better time to give it all up than right now. 
“Fuck, okay you have to stop or I’m going to explode.”
You look away from Seokjin’s swollen lips around Namjoon’s tip to look back at your boyfriend, who has his eyes on the ceiling, afraid to look down at the two of you for it might make him come. 
“That’s not how you ask.” 
“Baby.” There’s that warning tone again. 
“Joonie.” You mock the tone, Seokjin pulls off, giving his tip one last lick. 
“Tell him, princess.”
You grin, wrapping your hand around Namjoon’s shaft, pumping hellishly slow. 
“Come on, Joonie. Be good for us. Ask correctly.”
It takes a few more pumps, Seokjin next to you, kissing your shoulder, before Namjoon lets out a deep whine, voice cracking when he finally speaks. 
“Please stop. I need you to stop before I come. Please, baby.”
“I like that word coming from those lips,” Seokjin giggles, “no offense, princess. It’s just hotter.”
“None taken. I agree a hundred percent.” 
“You two are the worst.” Namjoon’s muffled words send you both into a giggle fit, giving one another a small high five. 
“It’s what we strive to be, Joon.” Seokjin nods in agreement, arms wrapping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.
“Now, since you clearly need a minute, how about I take care of the princess for a moment?” Seokjin’s lips trail up your neck to your jaw and finally seal your lips with his. He tastes like Namjoon, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make you want to come right then and there.
Namjoon nods, muttering approval before you’re yoinked away from your boyfriend, giggling when you’re pulled on top of Seokjin. It’s a fumble getting his briefs off as well as your dress, but you manage to do it, out of breath from laughing too much at the end. 
You sit up, your mind in a blissful happiness you can’t describe at the sight of both men on the bed. 
“I’m too lucky.” You whisper, using one hand to steady yourself over Seokjin’s hips, the other wrapping around his cock, giving it a few pumps to coat it with his own precum. His hands find your hips, holding tightly as you align him with your center, sinking down until he’s fully inside. 
“Shit,” you curse, loving the stretch while you slowly lift your hips, circling them at the same time. 
“Come on, princess. Show me what you can do.” Seokjin coos, giving your ass a light spank to encourage you to move. You scoff, grabbing the hand on your ass to hold it there as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him. 
Seokjin’s cock is perfection, honestly. Or as close to it as one can get. Namjoon’s is too. But goddamn Kim Seokjin’s dick can make you see stars. 
Neither of you notice Namjoon getting on his knees to crawl to you, grabbing your face and kissing you like he’s never kissed you before. 
It’s hunger, lust, love, vulnerability, and just everything kissing should be with the one you love. 
You melt into him, your pace slowing again on Seokjin’s hips, your hands reaching to hold your boyfriend’s face. 
It’s not enough. 
“Joonie,” you breathe against his lips, your hips stilling, “I need you.”
“Wait until hyung’s done, baby.”
You shake your head almost too fast, pushing him back a bit. You gesture to Seokjin to fully lay down, laying across his torso, lifting your ass up as if you’re presenting yourself to him. 
“Both, Joonie. Want you both.” You moan against Seokjin’s collarbone, your hips rolling against his own, keeping his cock inside you. 
There’s a breath of a curse and your princess nickname under you, his hands holding your waist as you still. 
“Jagi,” Namjoon chokes in his next breath, eyes focused on your stretched cunt swallowing Seokjin whole, “are you sure?”
“Yes. I need it, baby. Wanna feel you both.”
“You’re not nearly stretched enough.”
“I’m fine. Please.” 
“If she says she’s fine, she’s fine, Joon. Please hurry up.” Seokjin tries to joke, but his jest is cut off by a groan when you lift your hips and slam them back down for some kind of friction. “Princess, behave. I’m trying to help you.”
“Both.” You whimper desperately. “Need you both.”
“Listen to her, Joonie,” Seokjin teases, spreading his legs some, “she needs us. You gave control. Do as she says.” 
“I did not give her control.”
“Joonie.” You cry with another roll of your hips. 
“Shit, Jagi. Okay.” His voice is rushed as he gets in his knees between Seokjin’s legs. 
“He’s so whipped for you, princess.”
You giggle softly into Seokjin’s neck. The three of you have to maneuver around just a little for the right angle, but you finally feel the tip of your boyfriend’s cock along your inner thigh.
You clench at the sensation, quietly apologizing to Seokjin when he gasps. 
“Relax, princess. You have to relax if you want us both.”
“I do. I do, I do.  Want you both.” 
“Kiss me.” Those two words have your head spinning as you lift it to melt your lips to his. 
In the back of your mind, you know what he’s doing. He’s distracting you, giving you something else to focus on and relax. And goddamn does it work. You get so lost in the feeling of his lips, the way his tongue dances with yours, and matching your breathing to his, that you barely notice Namjoon pressing inside of you, cock sliding against Seokjin’s. Not until Seokjin lets out a guttural groan at the pressure. 
Then you feel it.
How full you feel. 
Both men inside you. 
How it should be. 
No choices. No turns. Just together. The three of you. 
The stretch is intense. Borderline painful. But you’re so aroused from just the fact that both the men you love so much are inside you at the same time, that the pain lessens quickly. 
“You okay, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice echoes against your ear. 
You try to hold yourself up to lean into him, but feel your arms giving out. As if he knows what is happening, because of course he knows, an arm snakes its way around your middle, holding you up against him, allowing you to focus on the feeling of them. 
“Full.” You mutter, hand reaching behind you to run your fingers through Namjoon’s hair. “So full. ‘Sokay though, you can move.” 
His lips press against your ear, then your neck, ending on your shoulder as he gives Seokjin a look before they both nod, alternating their thrusts. Every time Namjoon pulls back, Seokjin pushes further in and vice versa. 
It feels too fucking good. But you can’t do it yet. You can’t come yet. You need the feeling to last longer. You try to prolong the feeling, rolling your hips to meet with Namjoon’s thrust, clenching around him as you do so. 
You shouldn’t have done that. 
Instead of prolonging it, it just forces your orgasm. Your sensitive clit rubs just the right way against Seokjin’s pelvis, making you cry out in complete euphoria. 
“Oh, fuck!” Namjoon’s voice cracks behind you, hips stuttering before pressing flush against you. 
You can feel his cum pooling inside of you, spreading around with your own arousal as Seokjin’s thrusts continue, encouraging Namjoon to keep coming until they both have to pull out from you and Namjoon becoming oversensitive. 
Namjoon falls back from his sitting position on his knees to on his ass, hands holding him up behind him. You roll off Seokjin, eyes shut as you breathe heavily. Your body can’t decide between closing your legs to keep Namjoon’s cum inside and keeping your legs open because of the soreness and sensitivity. 
It takes a few seconds before you hear a body shuffling on the bed and a gasp from beside you. 
“What are you doing?!” Seokjin whisper-shouts. Your eyes fly open as you turn to look at the gorgeous sight beside you. 
Seokjin is still lying down, legs spread. But he’s looking down between them where Namjoon has settled on his stomach, hand cautiously wrapped around Seokjin’s still hardened erection. 
“You haven't come yet.” Namjoon states. 
“So, what? You’re gonna jerk me?”
“No? I was gonna try…sucking.”
You and Seokjin both snicker at the same time, much to Namjoon’s annoyance. 
“Oh. I can’t decide if that was adorable or fucking hot.” Seokjin cackles, a hand holding Namjoon’s face gently. Namjoon tries swatting the hand away, losing very quickly when you’re suddenly laying on your stomach as well, but near Seokjin’s side. 
“It was both. One hundred percent, it was both.” You kiss the cheek not being cradled. “Want some help?”
It’s the way he nods so nervously that makes your heart burst. You grin, settling in closer. 
“Well, you’ve seen me do it a million times. Use the lips, avoid teeth, the balls are fun, always kiss the tip, know your limits.” You give the instruction fairly easily, trying not to giggle at his anxiousness. “You’ll be okay, Joonie. And if you don’t like it, you can stop at any time.” 
“I’d rather he didn’t, though.” 
“Jin.” You warn, glaring at the handsome idiot. 
“Don’t Jin me! You both came already! I’m dying here!”
Namjoon snorts, not hesitating or giving any warning when he leans forward to kiss Seokjin’s tip. 
“Oh— fuck.” Seokjin’s hand leaves Namjoon’s face, hitting the mattress by his thigh, and taking a deep breath when Namjoon slowly wraps his lips around the head, tongue dancing along the slit. 
You watch in awe, giving words of encouragement as Namjoon lowers his mouth further down Seokjin’s cock, trying his best to take as much as he can. His hand cradles his balls, massaging them gently, but giving a small tug every now and again. 
“You’re doing so good, Joonie.” You praise over and over, running your hand through his hair, “make him come, baby. Make him lose control the way you do to me.” 
Namjoon finally hits his gag reflex, coughing slightly around Seokjin. His eyes lift to find Seokjin’s head leaning back, hand hitting the mattress again, fingers digging into the blanket. 
“Careful.” Your eyes widen slightly, resisting the urge to pull him off. If Namjoon wants to stop, he’ll stop. 
Also the sight and sounds are way too erotic to want to stop him. 
Seokjin’s head snaps forward at the feeling of Namjoon’s free hand pulling the hand tangled in the sheets, placing the hand in his hair. 
Their eyes meet. 
Seokjin smiles, his fingers tangling in Namjoon’s hair as the younger’s head lifts to wrap around the tip, tongue teasing it. 
“Goddamn, Joonie, that’s fucking perfect.” Seokjin lets out a light laugh, almost in disbelief at what’s happening. His hand slowly presses his head down, making Namjoon take more of him until it hits the back of his throat again. 
You honestly don’t know what to do yourself. Do you touch them? Join in? Say something? Encourage them to continue? Honestly, you’d rather just sit back and enjoy the visual of your boyfriend and best friend enjoying one another.
You do, however, find yourself rolling your hips against a blanket, soaked center making it perfect for your clit to glide along as you watch. 
And of course, Namjoon knows what you’re doing, even with his best friend’s dick down his throat. The free hand that had Seokjin’s trades with the one cradling his balls, quickly pulling the blanket away from you. You whine in protest, but his hand quickly finds its way between your legs, long fingers collecting up arousal and cum to spread around your clit. 
Your hips buck up closer to his hand, whimpering when a finger finds its way past your entrance, pumping you in perfect timing with the way he bobs his head. 
You know exactly what the fuck he’s doing. 
It takes barely a few minutes of the synchronized bobbing and pumping until Seokjin is almost in tears, moaning loudly as he comes down Namjoon’s throat at the same time your hips lose any and all sense of rhythm, coming around Namjoon’s fingers as you hug Seokjin’s thigh.  
Your come down is broken through when you hear Seokjin mutter come here and both hands grab at Namjoon, pulling him up his body to kiss him. 
To actually kiss him. 
Seokjin kissing Namjoon. 
After Seokjin just came down Namjoon’s throat. 
And Namjoon is kissing him back, open mouth, tongues tangling together. 
This is the fucking dream. 
You mutter a soft curse, lazily grinning at the sight. Seokjin seems to be the only one who hears you, pulling away from Namjoon’s lips with a grin. 
“Happy birthday, Joonie.” Seokjin gives another peck on the lips. Namjoon sighs into the quick kiss, lips faintly chasing the other’s. 
“You finally got your kiss, Jin.” You tease, the three of you giggling together. You scoot back a little bit, letting Namjoon get off Seokjin, laying between you both. 
“Finally.” He laughs as you throw your leg over Namjoon’s right leg, head ducking under his arm to rest on his chest. Seokjin is quick to mimic the position on the opposite side of Namjoon, who seems too blissfully out of it to care about the teasing. 
It’s silent for a moment, but your brain won’t shut up.
And of course, Namjoon knows. 
“So should we have that talk now?” Namjoon’s words are quiet against the silence of the three of you in the afterglow moments. Both you and Seokjin make questioning noises, prompting you to look up. 
“What talk?”
“Jagi…wanna tell him?”
Your eyes widen in a small panic, but Namjoon’s fingers dance along your spine reassuringly. 
You can do this. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 
“Uh, Jin. I don’t want this to be…like Namjoon and myself in a relationship with you as a bonus. I want the three of us to be…”
“A throuple?” Seokjin’s quick to catch on. Namjoon smiles, eyes shut. 
“If you want. Clearly, you and Joon have something. You and I have something. Obviously Joon and I have something…”
“I’d be happy to be a boyfriend to you both.”
You can feel Namjoon’s heart pounding under your cheek, your own heart doing the same. 
“Yeah? Officially?” You just know the way you’re grinning looks like a child told they’re going to Disneyland, and you don’t fucking care. This is so much better. 
“As long as this guy wants it,” his head jerks up to the man lying between you both, arms wrapped around both of you. He’s got a smug smile with his beautiful puffy lips.
“I do.” Namjoon confirms with a sigh, “dunno how I’m gonna deal with both of you when you’re being brats, but…”
“We are never brats.”
“Yeah!” Seokjin lightly hits Namjoon’s stomach, “maybe it’s just that you are a strict spoilsport. Ever think about that?”
“You’re literally being a brat right now.” Namjoon’s monotone voice cracks with just a hint of amusement. You stay silent, curling up closer to Namjoon as they continue to bicker with a smile. 
“Wow. Day one of our relationship, and you’re already being so rude. Do you even know who I am? How lucky you are?” 
You bite back the laugh, letting yourself fall asleep to the voices of your two boyfriends. 
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When you wake up the next morning, it’s to the sound of screaming. But not from either of the men you fell asleep with. 
“Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry! We’ll just…we’ll be out here! Yoongi, come on!” You know that voice. Why is that voice in Greece?
Oh fuck. 
Once the bedroom door closes, you sit up quickly, your head spinning from the sudden position change as you wrap the blanket around your top half. You leap out of bed, trying to find clothes. 
“Y/N? Care to explain?” Namjoon’s voice is higher than normal, still sitting upright in the bed. 
Fuck. 
“This was the wrong way to surprise you.” You throw some shorts, a tank top, some underwear and a bra onto the bed, quickly getting rid of the blanket to change. 
“I was supposed to wake up early and let them in and we’d make breakfast and it’d be a whole big birthday thing. But then we…last night…and I just…forgot.”
“You forgot Yoongi and Jimin were going to be joining us in Greece?” 
“Don’t even start!” You button the shorts around your waist, throwing the tank top on after. “You forgot your own birthday!” 
“He forgot his birthday?” Seokjin makes his appearance from the bathroom, looking as disheveled as you do in his haste to put on clothes. He sits on the bed, toothbrush in his mouth. The only one still naked is Namjoon, who just has a blanket covering his bottom half. 
“For like a moment.” The birthday boy shrugs. You cut him off before he can continue. 
“Whatever. Jin and I will go set things up. You put some pants on and laze about or something, you birthday grump.”
“Not a birthday grump.”
“I thought you’d be happy with your friends out here with us.”
“I am, Jagi. I am and I love you for it. But they just saw both of my partners naked in bed with me and you know I don’t like others seeing what’s mine.”
You have to remind yourself that Yoongi and Jimin are just outside the door. You cannot tease your boyfriend into fucking you right now. 
“Joonie. They’re together. They don’t care about what they see. Yoongi and I are like siblings.”
“He’s still possessive.” Seokjin shrugs, returning to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste. You swap places with him, quickly brushing your teeth and trying not to look like a complete mess. 
Namjoon’s at the door when you leave the bathroom, pants on but no shirt. 
Damn him. 
You pout. But not for the reason he thinks. 
“Thank you for inviting Yoongi and Jimin out here for my birthday, baby.” His voice is softer, hands reaching for your waist. 
“I just wanted it to be a fun birthday.” 
“It’s been a great birthday so far. I’m sure it’ll get even better. Thank you.” He presses his lips to yours, lips tugging into a smile when you melt against him. When he just barely pulls away, he mumbles “I love you, Jagi.” 
“I love you, too.” You sigh against his lips. The sound of something moving on the bed pulls you away, making you laugh when Seokjin appears by you. 
“Excuse me, I paid for their flights. Where’s my thank you kiss?” 
“Shut up, hyung.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing Seokjin by the back of the neck and cutting off any sassy responses with a kiss. Seokjin melts into him just like you did, but pushes away after a second. 
“Brush your teeth, stinky. You taste like last night. Let’s go, princess.”
Seokjin’s hand grabs yours, pulling you out of the bedroom and into the living room where the two wait. 
“So…” Yoongi’s voice trails, eyes set directly on your joined hands. 
“What’s going on with you three?” Jimin completes the question for Yoongi, who’s sitting on the couch with him, legs crossed and foot tapping the air. 
“We’re uh…together.”
“Did you and Joon break up?”
“Nope.”
“We’re all together now. The three of us.” Seokjin explains further for you. 
Both boys sit there, Jimin with an amused, almost shocked expression, and Yoongi of course stone faced. It’s silent until Yoongi finally smiles. 
“You’re welcome.” Is all he says, standing up from the couch and heading to the kitchen 
“I said it wouldn’t happen. Yoongi said otherwise.” Jimin giggles, bouncing up. “Okay, let’s go make the birthday boy some food!” 
“Nope. You’re banned from kitchens, remember?” Yoongi grabs both of Jimin’s wrists before he can reach for any utensil.
“Minnie, help me decorate and let the old men cook.” You call out, ignoring the shocked gasp from your boyfriend. 
Jimin sighs, joining you, the other banned one, to help decorate. 
Namjoon joins half an hour later, trying to help you and Jimin decorate, only to be banned after he pops a confetti balloon. He tries to help in the kitchen, but Yoongi goes off on him when he tries to cut a vegetable incorrectly. 
“I thought you’re supposed to be nice and loving to people on their birthday.” He grumbles from the couch. 
Jimin has taken over the decorations, his interior design skills coming in handy to make it look perfect. You are settled on the couch next to Namjoon, curling up in his arms. 
“You’re also not supposed to help with your birthday party, silly.” You both laugh, watching the ridiculousness going on in this villa in Greece of all places. 
“Thank you again, baby.” Namjoon whispers against your temple, a kiss following after, “This has been an amazing trip.”
“Of course, Joonie. And thank you for being the man I love. Happy birthday.” You look up, smiling before your lips find his, and you feel whole. Jimin says something and Namjoon pulls away to respond. You take a second to look over at the kitchen. 
Yoongi’s ranting about how annoying grocery shopping is on the island, but Seokjin’s not paying attention. His eyes are on you and Namjoon, handsome face smiling ear to ear. 
You can’t help but smile back. 
You have the man you’ve loved for years and the man you know is your soulmate. You don’t need anything else.
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vvh0adie · 9 months
Text
clingy
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pairing: jimin x reader | type: drabble | words: 2.5k | rating: 18+/M
Your clingy boyfriend eats you out in an attempt to keep you home.
— genre/au: fluff | slice of life ‖ boyfriend | hybrid — persona: fennec fox!jimin | possessive!jimin | mischievous!jimin | companion!reader — cw: cussing | smut — dynamic: soft dom!jimin x sub!reader — sw: overstimulation | cunnilingus | nipple play | slick eating | french kissing | hickies | vaginal fingering | anal play | squirting — a/n: Jimin is nasty as hell in this. Fun Fact: This was a Billlie Tsuki fic
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© vvh0adie 2022- [do not AI train/copy/repost/translate]
✧༺♡༻✧
Your boyfriend has been really clingy lately. Like the kind where if you go to the bathroom, Jimin’s sure to be right behind you. At first you were annoyed, which is hard to do when his big, brown eyes bore into you and his creme colored ears perk up.
But you eventually succumbed to his cuteness. And you can’t deny that it gives you somewhat of an ego boost to have him always attached to you, always trying to steal kisses or skipping foreplay all together just to drag you to bed.
Jimin is a master of persuasion, making it hard to leave for work, or even hang out with your friends. You’ve even tried to get him to go with you sometimes, but he wants you all to himself. As toxic as it may sound, it’s never been that serious because usually all you have to do is satiate the horny little fox that possesses him. Afterwards, he becomes too tired to get out of bed and jump you or lock you into a deathly grip.
“Jimin, Baby, let go of me,” you giggle, grabbing his arms around your waist. He digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you.
“Don’t leave,” Jimin whines, prompting your gaze down behind you to see him pouting. Your eyes wander his plump lips, glistening with his favorite strawberry gloss. Then you meet his dark brown gaze, amused at how big they are. Any wider, and you think he might be able to peer into your soul.
“I promised Taehyung that I’d be there for his show tonight. He sounded really nervous last time we talked.” You’re pouting now, trying to be just as cute as him which is probably impossible.
Jimin only looks at you, causing your heart to stir as  the anticipation of your decision becomes unbearable in silence. But lucky for you, he catches your brows relax, signaling him to make a move.
Without warning, he leans back, still wrapped around your waist as you fall onto the bed. Your head hits the mattress so hard, spurring a bout of whiplash.
“Oops! Sorry, Baby. You okay?” he asks, cupping your cheeks.
You hum, feeling his hand slide under your neck to massage your nape. Scooting up, he lets you see the way his gaze turns sultry as his beautiful lashes try to hide his dilated pupils.
He’s probably not that sorry —probably elated—because now he can have his way with you, seeing as you’re slightly immobilized. Jimin can feel his cock straining against his tight little shorts, begging to be milked by your cunt.
“Jimin~” you whimper, a chill running through your body as he hits a nerve.
“Mhm, Baby, you’re already crumbling when I haven’t even done anything.”
“You know what you do to me, don’t play.”
“Me? Playin’?” Jimin raises a brow, his other hand traveling down your side to caress your stomach before slipping the other into your sweatpants to cup your heat.
“I don’t understand,” Jimin says timidly, his head tilting and his eyes widening. He looks so innocent and truly curious as his big fluffy ears twitch. But then he smirks, not bothering to hide it, wanting you to be aware of your torture. How can someone with such a baby face be this depraved? It’s sometimes a little jarring but ultimately fun because of how unpredictable he can be.
He dips down to kiss you, soliciting your moan. Biting your bottom lip, he moves to suck on the inner vermillion. He loves the way his lips are able to glide and lap up your taste.
“I hope your pussy is as wet as your mouth,” he whispers against your open mouth.
Jimin begins to rub small circles over your clothed clit, applying pressure to every other swirl of his fingers. Your head knocks back and your mouth gapes but no sound escapes. The only signs of pleasure are the shake of your legs and rising of your chest.
He hums at the way your face contorts, taking delight in your anguish. He removes your shirt, lending the cold air to harden your nipples. He loves this part as your buds reach peak sensitivity, aiding him in getting you aroused much faster, but ultimately have you aching at his drawn out teases.
Jimin wastes no time, wrapping his tongue around your perky buds, swirling slow circles and sucking. Then he releases with a pop, lightly grazing the tip of his warm tongue over to tease you.
“Please~ Jimin,” you whine. He tilts his head up, a smug smile splayed across his face.
“Should I?”
You nod your head, gazing at Jimin through your heavy lashes. He giggles at how quickly you've become dazed. “Oh, you look so pretty begging.” He leans down into your neck, sucking hard till it becomes hot. You whine, prompting him to let up and lick the spot into a soothing warmth. He admires the bruise on your melanated skin; it’s a little light for his liking but it should be enough to send the message.
“Will you come back and fuck me, if I do?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Good girl.” Your thighs squeeze together, smushing Jimin’s manicured hand. You gasp in pleasure when he pinches your clit to release your vice grip.
Suddenly, Jimin’s sitting up taking your bottoms off. You tilt your head to look at him and his dark eyes staring right back as he licks his lips. They still sparkle and glisten even after ravaging your mouth, but it won’t last long once the taste of strawberries and your essence has melded on his tongue.
Jimin kisses you lightly before his angelic face disappears from your sight. The shake of the bed causes you to hold your breath, waiting for the sensation of his warm mouth to hit your core. And when it finally comes, you sigh in ecstasy and your eyes close shut.
“So soft and plump,” he coos, rubbing a finger over the top of your mound. He loves that you only trim; it hides the best parts of your succulent pussy for him and it brings him extra warmth as he basks in its glory. Jimin loves the soft tickle on his lips, urging him to find home nestled deeply in your essence. 
He traces down your slit, and your legs beg to open wider, but he grabs your hip in deterrence. “I don’t wanna see your little glistening cunt yet. I want it to spill out of your lips first.” You can hear the teasing tone in his voice, unable to do anything but cry as your whole body shakes.
It’s even worse when he blows along your slit. Jimin loves watching you squirm, he’s also aware of your limits. He won’t linger too long, but he’s going to go through each step. Why disrupt something that’s not broken? You always cum this way.
So finally, Jimin drags his tongue to trace your slit but never enters beyond. He pinches your plump mound, it spreads slightly as now he can see a little pink on the inner of your lips. He can feel himself getting wet from the anticipation of seeing your slicked out pussy. He imagines you’re a mess, the sweet tanginess of your essence ready to stimulate his senses.
Running his tongue along your spread lips, he then places soft kisses. He looks up to see that your hands are all over the place, not knowing where to go. You place them on your head then back down to cup your breast. You’re so overwhelmed, but you do know that if you press his face further into your weeping cunt, he’s just going to stop and leave you shaking for more.
“Okay, Baby,” Jimin coos, no longer wanting to keep you in this state. He pushes your thighs open, and with a pop, he no longer has to imagine your squelching pussy, as your lips open to reveal the beautiful scene.
You’re so wet and pungent with sweetness. Jimin spreads your lips wider and flicks his tongue on your clit. You jump and your legs shake. He gazes upon your gaping hole, contraction as you keep pushing out more slick for him to devour. Jimin sticks the tip of his tongue down into your abyss, just to get a little taste on his buds, and it's pure ecstasy as his eyes close, savoring the taste.
“Baby, you taste so fucking good,” he praises, hearing you moan as your little hole clenches.
Slightly sits up, he can’t take his eyes off your sparkling pussy as he pulls a pillow to place under your hips. Then he pushes your legs back to spread you wider, allowing slick to spill over the edge of your perineum and down to your puckered hole.
Jimin dips down to catch it, swirling his tongue over your rim, kissing and sucking. He pushes his tongue into your ass, lightly grazing his teeth over a swollen hole. Jimin smiles, eliciting you to moan his name.
He sits up, giving you a good glimpse of him licking his lips. Jimin's entire chin is drench, causing you to gasp and  your brows to knit at the sight. You pussy squelches as he looks down at the pool between your legs.
“Now for the dessert.”
You let out a shuddering breath as he comes back down, immediately attacking your clit. He pulls back the hood to flick his tongue and suck at the sensitive red bud. And your eyes roll back as you scream, “Oh my fucking God, Jimin! Suck my pussy, Baby!”
He giggles at the way you growl, rocking your hips against his sloppy, plump lips. You’re just as freaky as he is, so he never understands why you try to run from him. There's no need for other earthly decisions when he can give you pleasure whenever.
You listen to him slurp your essence up just to sloppily sputter it back into your flooding cunt. “So fucking wet. Such a dirty hole; need me to clean you up,” he coos.
You can’t bear it anymore, bring a hand to hold his face further into your sopping core. “Ugh, fuck me with your tongue, Jimin.” Your gasp turns cry when he thrusts his wet taste into your entrance, pushing himself deeper for his tongue to flexing up into your walls. It tickles sensation into your nerves, causing you to clench around him.
Jimin brings a hand to push one leg back, ultimately teetering you onto your side. He’s no longer worried about keeping you propped up, driving himself against you, wanting to get closer than he already is. From nose to chin he’s covered in your juices, the gushing sounds of your pussy spilling, from the sounds of the side of his mouth as spit runs down his cheeks.
“AAAAAAH! Jimin, wait. Wait, Baby,” you cry. But he’s not listening even as he takes a finger to swirl your puckered hole, and he lifts up for a split second to dip into your pussy, dragging two fingers back down to stretch your ass around his fingers.
You’ve completely gone ballistic, shaking and screaming as Jimin pumps his fingers into your ass, smirking at your ferocity before going back to devour you. You feel the pressure build up in your stomach, your whole body shaking as your fist twists into the sheets to the point your knuckles hurt.
“You horny fucking anal slut!” he growls, flicking his tongue and sucking your swollen asshole before releasing with a sloppy kiss. As he comes up, hair is wild and you watch a strand of your slick drip onto his shirt.
“Thank you,” you cry, your head falling back in exhaustion.
Light sparkles against his blown out pupils and he breathes heavily as his tongue runs along his upper lip. He was truly about to drown in your ocean.
Jimin’s wanderlust gaze suddenly turns cold as he grabs your thighs to flip you over onto your stomach. Then he lifts your ass up and presses onto your back guiding your chest and cheek onto the cool sheets.
“Hands on your thighs. Now,” he says darkly, giving a light slap to your ass. The sting feels wonderful, urging you to follow his commands in hopes for more.
Your hands wrap around the back of your plump thighs and his knee-high socks come beside your head as he gets under you. He props himself up on his hands to sit face to pussy. Sticking his tongue out, he catches the slick running down your cunt. It tastes so good, urging him to scoot up and wrap his arms under your thighs then over your ass. He spreads his own legs against your arms to deadlock you into position. There’s no escape.
Jimin swallows your pussy whole, sucking and swiping the expanse of his tongue up to meet your entrance so he can fuck into it. Then he traces back down, hooking into your clit and applying pressure to swirl deep into your bundle of nerves. Your body shakes and writhes, trying to run but it's no use.
“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” you plead, your final call devolving into gibberish as he ignores you. Once again, sloppily eating you out, his eyes close and his head sways. To him, your screams and cries are music to help him concentrate.
The knot in your abdomen tightens, feeling as though you’ve been doing the longest plank of your life. Then he sucks your clit, keeping one arm wrapped around your thigh as he brings the other to enter your pussy and begins pumping.
The white haze comes over you, your surroundings disappearing as you ascend into immense euphoria. The knot snaps, your body writhes and your temples relax as you feel a cold sweat wash over you.
Jimin coaxes you through orgasm, your body jerking away from his lips, so he has to follow you to stay attached.
“YEEEEEEESSSS, JIMIN!”
When your high descends, you still feel him licking and pumping. You know he’s going to keep going till you cum again, so you let it happen.
“I love you, I love you, I- AHHHHH!” You feel a snap once more but it's lighter and instead of feeling him inside of you, you feel your essence coming out. You hear your pussy gush and Jimin gasps like he didn’t see this coming. You’re screaming and he’s laughing, completely ecstatic at the squirt showering him.
When you feel the last of it dribble out, your pussy squelches and Jimin gives you no time as he places a peck on your hole. Your body jumps and your holes clench.
He admires the mess running down your legs, “So pretty and mine.”
You can’t help but giggle at the remark. You’re completely spent and soaking wet. You feel your boyfriend kiss the swell of your ass, rubbing a hand over the wet, supple skin. You can tell he’s getting cozy, cuddling up to you; a literal odd ball to be this in love with your ass.
He obviously thinks you’re not going anywhere. As long as you two have been together, you would think he knows you by now.
You’re still going out, but you will definitely be back to pay your dues.
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