#holiday bts

[kimtaegis]

the loveliest, prettiest and sweetest there is 💚

[jjungkookislife]

Home for the Holidays Pt. 2 (M)

pairing: jungkook x f. reader

genre: fake dating au, f2l, christmas au, smut [18+] Put your age in your bio so you don’t get blocked please 💜 this is an 18+ blog

summary: Jungkook is in desperate need to find a girlfriend for Christmas. His mom has nagged and nagged about him bringing someone home for the holidays. Determined, Jungkook recruits his friends in hopes of finding the right girl to take home. In need of a place to stay, and no plans for Christmas, you answer his friend’s ad.

You have 25 days to convince not only his parents but his grandmother that you’re in a real relationship, solid enough to get through Christmas with the Jeons.

wc: 14.3k

warnings: pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, love, darling, good girl, doll), food/food mention, mention of conning JK's grandmother, mention of a blowup doll, making out, marking (scratching, biting, hickeys), jungkook has a motorcycle but his grandmother forbids him from using it while she's there, mention of jungkook's grandfather's death, one-bed trope, mention of slot machines, mention of a breeding kink, reader is on the pill, mention of being self-conscious (reader), mention of drowning in melting snow due to embarrassment, hair pulling, jungkook is a consent king (and it's hot af, okay?), fingering (f. receiving), handjob (m. receiving), oral sex (f. giving), unprotected sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, creampie

a/n: a HUGE thank you to @btsgotjams27 for allowing me to scream about this JK in her inbox for weeks! and for helping me go over the ending! thank you, thank you, thank you!

read part one here

date: January 12, 2024

The moment you set foot in Jungkook’s family home, it was like stepping foot in a department store the day after Thanksgiving. 

Holiday decor sits on every inch of the living room wall—there are snowflakes, snowmen, Santas, and jolly words on every bit you see.

A giant Christmas tree takes up a large portion of the living room in a corner far from the fireplace. Large red bows hung from the branches, and a gold star sat on the top. A candle on the coffee table burns, filling the home with its vanilla cookie scent. 

The dining room had an elegant arrangement of candles and ribbons. A glass jar of red and gold ornaments sat in the middle as a centerpiece. 

“Jungkook!” Came an elated greeting from the kitchen. An older woman came rushing toward him, her hands cupping his cheeks as she hugged him tightly. 

Jungkook grunted when he was pulled to her height, swaying side to side as she hugged him. 

“Never leave me,” she nearly sobbed dramatically. You bit back a laugh. 

“Mom,” Jungkook wheezed. “You’re scaring my girlfriend. She doesn’t know you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking,” his mom laughs as she squeezes him one last time before releasing him. 

“Mom!”

Jungkook’s mom ignored him as she stepped toward you. 

“Hello,” you wave meekly. You introduce yourself, and she smiles. 

“I’m Aera,” Jungkook’s mom introduces herself as she pulls you into a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you! Jungkook said nothing but good things about you. I swear he’s so in love!”

“Mom!” Jungkook hissed as he ran his hand over his face. 

You giggle, linking arms with Aera. “Is that so?”

Jungkook watches as the two of you head toward the kitchen, arm in arm, while he rolls the suitcases further into the house after shutting the front door. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” his mom says as she has you sit at the table. “You’re in Seojun’s old room, and this sweetheart is in yours.”

Jungkook nods as he locks eyes with you, silently asking if you’ll be okay for a few minutes while he takes the luggage upstairs. 

“Here,” Aera hands you a small dessert. “Seojun made these just for you. You’ll meet him tomorrow along with his fiancée, Saraí.” 

“Ooh, chocolate,” you grin as you take the chocolate and take a bite. You moan from how good it tastes, melting right on your tongue. 

Aera claps her hands, turning on her heel as she grabs a few more desserts for you to try. 

By the time Jungkook joins you, you’re on your third dessert. 

“Mom,” he sighs. “Please don’t force-feed my girlfriend. She just got here.”

Aera frowns at her son. “Fine. You open up.”

Jungkook dodges a brownie bite and sits beside you. His mom heads back to the kitchen to grab drinks as the front door opens and shuts. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes. “I told her to wait at least thirty minutes before she stuffed you full of chocolate and desserts.”

“Hello,” a voice calls. You smile, though nerves still eat at you when you realize Jungkook’s father has arrived home. 

“Dad!” Jungkook rises from his seat to hug his dad tightly. Jungkook looks just like him, though a little taller and broader. 

You rise from your seat, wiping your hands on your pants in a poor attempt to clean them. 

You introduce yourself to Jungkook’s dad, shaking his hand. 

“Nice to meet you, honey. I’m Dae.”

“We’re gonna go get settled in,” Jungkook says as he takes your hand. “We’ll be down for dinner.”

“When am I seeing Jimin, Joon, Tae, Jin, and Yoongi?” Aera asks her son. “It’s bad enough that Hoseok won’t join us this year.”

“He had plans, Mom,” Jungkook explained.

“Love, the kids just got home to their parents. Let them take their shoes off before you host a reunion,” Dae chuckles. Aera nods, going for her house phone to ring up Jimin’s mom across the street to chat about their boys. 

Jungkook uses the distraction to lead you toward the stairs. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook groans as he plops down on the desk chair of his old bedroom. “I thought I had a minute or something before she started feeding you.”

“It’s okay,” you giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Your mom is just excited.”

“I’ll say,” Jungkook grumbles as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem! Besides, those brownie bites are delicious!”

Jungkook chuckles. “There’s plenty more downstairs. Lemme show you around.”

Jungkook shows you where the bathroom is. His room is across the hall from yours, while his parents' room is further down the hallway. There’s another stairway upstairs that leads to the entertainment/game room. Downstairs is an office, a guest bathroom, and a laundry room. 

The backyard is through the back door in the kitchen, and the door near the living room leads to the garage. It’s all pretty simple to memorize. You’ll mostly be on the second floor unless you have to use the kitchen or living room. 

By the time you’re back in the kitchen, Jimin’s sitting at one of the chairs with a plate full of brownies and a glass of milk. He gives you a chocolaty smile as Mrs. Jeon sets a plate of cookies beside him. 

“Got enough to share, Jimin?” Jungkook asks as he pulls a chair out for you before he sits beside you. 

“No,” Jimin swallows his bite and downs half a glass of milk. 

“Jimin,” Aera laughs, and Jimin reluctantly pushes the plate of cookies toward you and Jungkook. 

“So,” Dae smiles at you. “How did you and Jungkook meet?”

“School.”

“Jimin.” You say, cringing at Jungkook’s answer being different from yours. 

His parents look confused for a moment before Jimin speaks up.

“I met her in one of my classes, and we became friends. Then Jungkook stole her from me,” Jimin jokes. 

Jungkook turns red. “I didn’t steal her! You said you were just friends!”

You laugh with his parents. The two men bicker back and forth like children. 

“I always had a crush on Jungkook. The moment I saw him, I knew he was special,” you admit. Jungkook pauses his fake fight to look at you; his eyes are soft, and something sparkles deep within. 

Even Jimin stares silently. He knew you had a crush on Kook the moment you laid eyes on him, but there was no way you were this great of an actress. After all, he had been the one to go with you to audition for Cinderella, and you tanked. Sorry to say so.

“Oh, isn’t that sweet?! True love!” Aera sings as she clasps her hands. 

“Mom!” Jungkook protests, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. Perhaps he should have prepared you for his over-enthusiastic parents. 

“I hear wedding bells!” Aera continues until Dae grabs her and leads her out of the room. 

“Come on, let’s go get their pajamas.”

The three of you wait until you hear their footsteps disappear up the stairs. 

Jimin exhales dramatically. “You couldn’t even get the first lie correct?”

“We tried!” Jungkook hisses in response.

“Yeah,” you nod vehemently. “We got it right anyhow. We just fumbled a bit. No biggie.”

“The group chat isn’t gonna like this,” Jimin sighs. “Are you sure you can pull this off without us here?”

“It was just a little mishap,” Jungkook waved his hand. “We’ve got this.”

Jimin looks unsure but says nothing else as he gulps his milk down and rises from his seat. 

“Okay, I better get back to my family. I only snuck out for treats.”

You laugh as you hug him after he’s set his glass in the dishwasher. 

“Come around whenever,” Jimin instructs, kissing your forehead before waving to Jungkook. 

“What’s up next?” You ask your boyfriend. 

“Probably Christmas pajamas and a movie, then dinner and bedtime,” Jungkook replies as his parents' footsteps come down the stairs.

“Here they come.”

The evening flies by after you receive your pajamas. You thank the Jeons profusely as you put them on. 

The couple has gone to bed, leaving you and Jungkook to finish the last two minutes of the movie. 

Jungkook begins to clean up as soon as the credits roll before the two of you head up the stairs. 

Hushed voices greet you as you reach the landing. 

“I don’t know, Dae. Something seems fishy,” Aera said softly. 

“You’re overthinking this, love. Maybe they’re just respectful or shy.” Dae countered. 

“Well, Saraí and Seojun were always kissing and hugging. It just seems a little off.” Aera states. 

Jungkook looks at you, worry evident on his face.

“Maybe they’re not as comfortable with PDA. That’s fine by me,” Dae chuckles as he tells his wife to go to bed. 

Aera does so reluctantly.

Jungkook takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom you are occupying for your stay. He shuts the door as quietly as possible before he sits on the bed and pats the spot beside him. 

Once you’re on the bed sitting beside him, he wrings his hands in his lap. 

“I suppose we need to be more hands-on,” he states nervously.

“How about we wake up early tomorrow and watch a movie in the living room? We can cuddle and kiss a little when we hear them get up,” you suggest. 

Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Do you need anything before I go?”

You walk Jungkook to the bedroom door. You bite your bottom lip, suddenly feeling shy. He is your fake boyfriend, though.

“A goodnight kiss?”

Jungkook’s cheeks warm at your words, but he gently grips your chin with his fingers before he presses his lips to yours. Your hands grip his shirt, holding him close as the kiss deepens and your lips muffle his moans. 

“Good night,” Jungkook whispers with one last kiss to your lips. 

“Good night,” you whisper as you watch him go. Your heart flutters as you shut the door and press your back against it. You squeal in delight and faintly hear Jungkook chuckle as he heads to his room. 

You ignore the heat that rises to your cheeks before scrambling to get into bed. 

The next morning, Jungkook shakes you awake gently. “Come on, darling.”

“Mmh,” you whine, swatting at him in your sleep. 

Jungkook dodges the next swipe, capturing your hand and kissing your palm. 

“Baby,” he whispers as he shakes you again. You curse, peering open one eye and then the other. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumble as you sit up. Jungkook grins smugly. “Or I’d bop you on that cute nose of yours.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, babe. My parents will be up soon.”

“I’m sleepy,” you huff but get out of bed and follow Jungkook downstairs. He’s already got a movie playing in the background and two mugs of hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table. 

You try not to squeal in excitement when you see he’s poured yours into a snowman mug. 

By the time Jungkook’s parents make their way downstairs, the both of you are cuddling on the couch. Jungkook’s got your head on his shoulder, feeding you pretzels and holding your hand. 

Aera and Dae exchange a look but say nothing other than their morning greetings as they get ready for work. 

Dae is out in ten minutes, promising to be home early, while Aera stops by the living room to kiss each of you on the top of your head on her way out. 

“Seojun and Saraí will be here for dinner,” she calls as she grabs her keys and heads out the door. 

You spend the day with Jungkook watching movies and playing video games upstairs. Jimin and Joon pop in for a quick visit, but their parents call them home for lunch and they leave you alone with Jungkook again. 

“I think we’re doing pretty well,” you muse as you hold Jungkook’s hand while he waits for the game to load on the TV screen. 

He chuckles. “Seojun might mess it up.”

You giggle, shaking your head. 

“I think we’ve got this,” you state as you kiss his cheek, his jaw, and the mole beneath his lip. Jungkook sighs happily, dropping the controller on the carpet before he cups your face. 

Fake or not, he genuinely enjoyed kissing you. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to do so now. 

You moan when he pushes you back onto the couch, your legs on either side of his hips. His lips feel soft against yours as your hands slide under his shirt. 

“Kook,” you moan softly as you move your head to allow him more room, his lips burning in their wake as he trails kisses down to the collar of your shirt. 

Your fingers weave through his long black hair, tugging when his lips nip at your skin. He moans your name softly, groaning when you beg him for more. 

His hand grips your hip, squeezing as his hips rock against you. A curse escapes you as you melt beneath his broad shoulders, your nails dragging down his back. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, his lips finding yours as his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips as the kiss deepens. You whine as you feel him press against you, your hands greedy as you pull him impossibly close. 

“Shit!” A voice startles you.

You pull away from Jungkook, face warm as Jungkook gets off you. 

“Sorry, we should have knocked.” A woman apologizes. She’s shorter than Jungkook and the man beside her. Her hair is curly and black, falling in waves down her back. Her beautiful golden skin appears glowing and rivals the brightness of her smile. 

“We did knock,” the man says, looking at her. She jutted him in the ribs with her elbow before turning to Jungkook. 

“We’ll be downstairs,” she announced in a rush as she shoved the man out the door before shutting it. 

Jungkook groans, hiding his cherry-red face in his hands. “That was Seojun and Saraí.”

“Oh!” You exclaim with wide eyes. “Fuck.”

“Well,” Jungkook said, carding a hand through his hair. “At least Seojun will believe us now.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. You wrap your arms around his waist and kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“To be continued?” You’re not sure where this bout of confidence has come from, but you know what you felt, and Jungkook wanted you just like you did him. 

“Tonight?” He asks in a sultry tone that makes you tighten around nothing. His dark-hooded gaze makes your pulse rise, and it takes everything in you not to push him onto the couch and continue where you left off. 

Jungkook holds your gaze, his tattooed hand resting on your lower back, a little too close to your behind. You bite your bottom lip, and his eyes watch you carefully as you slowly take a step back. Fire builds between you, nearly suffocating you, and you’d gladly let it for another taste of his lips. 

“Tonight,” you whisper as you head for the door. You swallow thickly as you eye him up and down, a hunger pooling deep inside you. 

Jungkook presses his thumb to his bottom lip as he devours you with his gaze, knowing one more lingering look will be all it takes to have you screaming his name as loud as your lungs allow. 

Ten minutes later, Jungkook and you join Seojun and Saraí in the living room. Jungkook introduced you to the couple as he sat beside you on the loveseat.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Sarai exclaims. “Seojun thought you were imaginary.”

“Babe,” Seojun protests. 

“¿Que no?” Sarai asks him with a raised brow. “Didn’t you say Kook probably had a blowup doll?”

 Jungkook and Seojun burn brighter than Rudolph’s nose as they sink into the couches. You laugh along with Sarai at the men’s expense. 

“I like you,” you said with a bright smile. “We’re gonna get along just fine.”

Sarai smiled, “We have to stick together.”

“Saraí,” Seojun whines. “We just got here. You can’t recruit my little brother’s girlfriend against me already.”

“Why not?” Saraí asks with a mischievous grin. 

Seojun groans as he shakes his head, but his smile never dims as he looks at his fiancée. You cuddle up to Jungkook, and his arm drapes around you before he kisses the top of your head, almost second nature. 

-

A few hours later, Saraí and you share the couch upstairs while the Jeon brothers fight over the working controller. 

Saraí follows you on all your socials as she lies beside you. The both of you laugh as you show each other funny TikToks. Despite only knowing her a short amount of time, you’re glad she’s easygoing and loves to talk. It takes the pressure off you having to recall any information from Joon’s PowerPoint and flashcards, though the information is ready to be pulled at any moment should you need it.

“So then he takes me to the very top of the building,” Saraí gushes as she shows you a photo on her Instagram account. “You know, the ones with the glass panes you can stand on to overlook the city? Well, I was busy looking at the city while Seojun was turning green behind me! He’s terrified of heights, but he knew I wanted to go up there since forever, practically!”

“I almost threw up,” Seojun comments as he gives the controller to Jungkook, he’s no longer interested in fighting his younger sibling over the controller that doesn’t stick. 

Saraí laughs. “I turned around to tell him to join me. The view was incredible!”

You hang on her every word as she swipes to another photo. 

“And that’s when I noticed the mariachis and Seojun down on one knee. He even had my family there!” Saraí wipes a stray tear as she recounts her proposal and shows you more photos of the grand event. 

Seojun smiles at Saraí, hearts in his eyes. He turns to Jungkook with a raised brow. “It’ll be you two before you know it.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jungkook coughs as he looks at you for help. His eyes have tripled in size from panic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling like a bobblehead. “We’ve only been together for a bit.”

“Four months?” Seojun asks.

“Five!” You and Jungkook answer in unison, startling the happy couple. 

You clear your throat. “Almost six.”

“Nowhere near you guys time together,” Jungkook adds as he nervously tweaks the buttons on the controller. 

Saraí waves her hand. “You’ll hear wedding bells before you know it.”

“Yeah,” Seojun chuckles. “Ours.”

The two giggled before you and Jungkook exchanged nervous looks. 

How far would you take this?

Dinner passes without incident. Aera and Saraí are elbow-deep in wedding plans, scheduling lunch with Saraí’s mom before the evening ends. 

You excuse yourself when your friends show up, and the lot of you head upstairs with a plate of warm cookies accompanied by a tray filled with glasses of milk and mugs of hot chocolate.

Seokjin is on the lookout, watching the door as Joon gets comfortable beside Jimin and Yoongi. 

“How’s it going?” Taehyung asks as he takes Jungkook’s phone to upload a few more pictures to Instagram. 

“Yeah,” Joon says through a mouthful of cookies. “Jimin says you fucked up the first question Momma Jeon asked.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook hisses. 

“The first one?” Seokjin scoffs as he looks over his shoulder at you. “Babe, I would have done better.”

“I’m the one who needed to date someone!” Jungkook hisses louder. 

Seokjin shrugs. “I said what I said.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at his friends and calms down when you grip his arm. 

“His parents thought we weren’t all over each other like Saraí and Seojun. We have to kick it up a little for them,” you state, your lip caught between your teeth. 

“Damn,” Yoongi sighs. “If they see through it, your grandmother won’t fall for it, Kook.”

“Don’t give up now,” Jimin insists while holding a rough sketch. “We’ve worked so hard for this. I already started designing my room in Kook’s new place.”

“Give me that,” Jungkook rips the paper from Jimin’s hands and crumples it. 

“I have copies,” Jimin smirks. 

“Look,” Taehyung speaks up. “We’ve all done our part. We just gotta get through it.” 

Namjoon nods. “Tae’s right. We all did what we said we’d do, even Hobi. He’ll be in town before the new year, and we can’t tell him the plan tanked. We all worked too hard for this. Let’s see it out.”

“I’m in,” Seokjin shrugs, feigning nonchalance by looking at his nails.

“Same,” Yoongi and Jimin add with a firm nod. 

Joon and Tae look at the two of you.

Jungkook looks at you, and you nod. You were already knee-deep in it; might as well make it to the other side. 

“Alright, we’re in,” Jungkook states ruefully. 

“Don’t worry, one of us will try to be around when Grandmother Jeon arrives. It’ll be a piece of cake!” Jimin grins. 

It was not a piece of cake. 

And if it was, it was a shit cake.

Grandmother Jeon rolled up with enough suitcases to rival a traveling circus. 

“Mother,” Dae gasps as he greets her at the front door. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had!” Jungkook’s grandmother huffs as Dae and Jungkook help bring in the suitcases. 

Aera dashes to the kitchen for refreshments, and you hurry after her in a panic. 

“First, I misplaced my bingo winnings on the train. Then, they threatened to kick me off because Luna wouldn’t stop barking!” Grandmother Jeon looks at all her bags until Jungkook holds one away from him while he pinches his nose. 

“Oh, there she is! Kook be a dear and take her outside. Rinse her dog carrier for me. These old bones aren’t what they used to be,” she says as Dae helps her to the couch and then shuts the front door. 

“Mother,” Dae said as he sat beside her. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, I didn’t want to be a bother!” She waves her hand about. Her glasses slip down her nose, and her hat is tilted. 

“You’re never a bother, Mom,” Dae states as he helps her out of her shoes and faux fur coat. 

“Good,” Grandmother Jeon states firmly. “Because Luna and I need a place to stay for the holidays.”

Jungkook freezes with Luna, a yapping black and white chihuahua in his arms. “What?”

Dae sends a glare at his son. “Of course, you can stay with us. What happened?”

“Dang cellphone made my reservations for next Christmas,” Grandmother Jeon huffed. “Dang things are called smartphones, more like dumb phones. Scheduled me for the wrong year!”

Dae exchanges a look with Jungkook, but neither says a word as you and Aera walk into the living room with coffee and cookies. 

“Oh, Aera! You look lovely! Keeping my boys in line?” Grandmother Jeon asks with a smile. 

“Always! We're so glad you’re staying with us,” Aera says genuinely, hugging the older woman. 

“Ooh, you know me. I gotta spread a little holiday cheer everywhere I go,” Grandmother Jeon jokes before she spots you. 

“And who is this marvelous woman hiding behind you, Aera?” 

Jungkook opens the back door, puts Luna out, and rushes to your side before you can blink. 

“Grandmother Jeon, this is my girlfriend,” Jungkook tells her your name, and her eyes light up like the fairy lights on the Christmas tree. 

“I’m Grandmother Jeon or Minji, whichever you prefer, dear. Let me look at you,” she coos as she takes your hands and looks you up and down. 

“You’re beautiful,” Minji grins widely. 

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. 

“And you know how to take a compliment. I like that! Confidence and a tough exterior are what you need to wrangle in these boys. They’ll give you more heart attacks than you can handle. Troublesome they are,” Minji shakes her head. 

“Mom!”

“Grandmother!”

“What?” Minji raises a brow, daring them to protest further. “Am I lying?”

“No,” Jungkook and his father shake their heads, avoiding eye contact. 

“Thought so,” Minji laughs. “Don’t worry, dear. Jungkook is the least troublesome of them all, though that motorcycle I saw on the driveway is enough to earn a lecture, Jeon Jungkook!”

“But-!”

“Jeon Dae, what did I tell you about my grandbabies riding those!” Minji sighs heavily as she lets you go. 

“Mother,” Dae starts as Minji rises from the couch. “He’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

Minji whirls on Jungkook, a sharp, well-manicured nail poking his broad chest. “You stick to driving while I’m here, sweetie. I don’t think my old heart could take it seeing you riding around town on that motorcycle.”

“I promise,” Jungkook raises his hand, and Minji grins, reaching to pinch his cheek. 

“Good boy,” she states before releasing him. “Now who’s gonna show this old bag of bones and her pup to her room?”  

“Mother, you’re only-” Dae is cut off by a glare so icy it could freeze Hell and all its inhabitants. 

“Get my dog, son. She gets cold without her winter wear,” Minji grumbles as she heads towards the stairs. “She’s your little sister, after all. You should treat her as such.”

“Mother,” Dae sighs heavily, but he knows it’s a losing battle. He opens the back door instead, and Luna walks into the home after wiping her feet on the mat. 

“Jungkook, sweetie, be a doll and get her wipes from the pink bag for me. I have to get her cleaned up before dinner,” Minji says as Dae hands her the little chihuahua. 

“She’s not going to expect Luna to have a seat at the table, is she?” You ask Jungkook’s mom as you watch Dae and Jungkook carry her bags up the stairs. 

Aera says your name with a whimsical smile. “Expect the unexpected.”

Jungkook knows you’re trying your best not to stare, but you fail miserably.

Dinner is in the dining room with the large dining table that seats twelve, but there are only eight of you tonight. 

Dae sits at the head of the table with his wife on the left and his mother on the right. Beside Aera, Jungkook has taken his spot while you sit beside him. However, you can’t help but look at Luna in her high chair across from him. 

Seojun sits across from you with Saraí on his right. She smiles politely as she tries to muffle a laugh in her napkin. She was as surprised as you the first time Minji rolled into town with her dog and the high chair. 

You’re sure Luna is eating out of a crystal bowl and drinking from a crystal goblet. The only thing that sparkles more than both is the ring sitting on Saraí’s finger.

“So, sweetheart,” Minji starts as she dabs at her mouth. “How did you meet our Kookie?”

“Mother,” Dae shoots an annoyed look her way that she waves off with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“I’m merely curious,” Minji smiles softly, her pearls draped over her bubblegum pink dress. There’s not a silver hair out of place, nor is her lipstick smudged from eating and enjoying a glass of wine with dinner. 

“We met through Jimin,” Jungkook answers for you, but Minji continues to stare at you, awaiting a response. 

“We met through Jimin at school. Jimin and I shared a class and introduced me to Jungkook and his friends. I had a crush on him since the first time I saw him,” you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks as Jungkook takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before setting it on the table. 

“So, who broke first?” Seojun asks with interest, ignoring his “aunt” as she chews on her steak. 

“Jungkook,” you giggle as you recite the story Yoongi had concocted. “We went on a walk after dinner one night and he confessed. Asked me out for the next night, and we’ve been dating ever since.”

“We went to the beach for our first date,” Jungkook adds. “Shared a milkshake on the boardwalk.”

“My Kookie finally found someone!” Minji claps her hands, startling the dog beside her. 

“Do you have pictures?” Aera questions as she rises from the table. 

Luna finishes her meal, and Dae takes her outside while Jungkook and Seojun clear the table. You send Jungkook a wary look, but he smiles in reassurance, mouthing, “You’ve got this.”

“Let’s head to the living room for tea and hot chocolate,” Aera said as she dashed to the kitchen to grab drinks and desserts. 

Saraí goes to help her while you help Minji to the couch. 

“I don’t know how to snoop on the phone like Seojun loves to do,” Minji laughs as you take your phone out of your pocket. 

“Ah, there’s my boy,” Minji says as she adjusts her glasses to look at your Lock Screen. A photo of you and Jungkook in matching Christmas sweaters greets her. 

“He looks at you the way his grandfather looked at me before he passed. Love is a magical thing, dear. It can get you through almost anything,” Minji says, full of wonder as she stares off into the distance for a moment before she clears her throat. 

Your heart sinks in your chest. Jungkook hadn’t mentioned his grandfather before and seeing Minji now and going through with this plan was making you feel sick. 

“I hope we didn’t miss anything,” Saraí sings as she sets down a tray of hot drinks. She hands one to Minji before she takes one for herself. 

Aera and Dae join you, while Luna curls up under the Christmas tree on the tree skirt beside the presents. 

“I hope we did,” Jungkook utters, only to be elbowed by his older brother. 

“I saw a few photos on Instagram this week,” Seojun comments as he grabs a cookie. “You both look cute.”

Saraí helps Aera log into her account so she can see the photos on Instagram while you show Minji the pictures on your phone. 

“The two of you are adorable,” Minji coos as you show her another photo. Jungkook watches on from beside his father, the two sharing the couch closest to the fireplace. 

For a moment, Jungkook can pretend that it’s real. That you fit into his family perfectly, just like Saraí does. That they adore you just like he does and that you could possibly love him.

Thirty minutes later, Minji is yawning and calling for Luna. The two head upstairs slowly, yawning and wishing everyone a good night. 

“Oh, dear,” Aera says as she looks at you and Jungkook. “We gave Grandmother Jeon Seojun’s old room.”

You look at Jungkook with wide eyes. 

“You don’t mind sharing Jungkook’s old room, do you?” Aera asked as she and Saraí cleared up the drinks and cookies. “It’ll be just like at home.”

“Um… yeah,” you cough as you look at your feet. “Just like home.”

“Perfect,” Dae says as he helps clean up. “Why don’t the two of you unpack in Jungkook’s room, and we’ll see you in the morning?”

“Sure, Dad,” Jungkook takes your hand, saying goodnight to his family before leading you up the stairs. 

On the landing, you hear his grandmother and Luna snoring already, and you wonder how they could fall asleep so quickly. 

Jungkook leads you into the bedroom and shuts the door, pressing himself against it. 

You’re careful not to trip on his suitcase as you open yours to get your pajamas out. You’ve been following Hoseok’s strict clothing schedule and you’ve sent Hoseok photo confirmation every day so far.

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook whispers as he walks toward you. “I never thought this would happen.”

“What do we do?” 

“I’ll sleep upstairs in the game room,” Jungkook answers. His back already hurts from imagining a night on the lumpy couch. 

“Your parents will know something’s up,” you hissed in response. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor, then,” Jungkook shrugs. “Problem solved.”

“But it’s your room. Your bed.”

“And I got you into this mess,” Jungkook frowns. “It’s only for a few nights, anyway. No biggie.”

You bite your lip but say nothing as you take your pajamas and step out of the bedroom to go to the bathroom. You change and brush your teeth before going to the room once again.  

Jungkook goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and do his skincare routine before returning to the room. 

He grabs extra blankets from the closet and a few pillows before he lies down on the floor.  

The two of you stare at the ceiling in silence. 

“Well, this is awkward,” Jungkook chuckles.

You throw a stuffed animal at him. 

“Jungkook!”

“What? You were thinking about it!”

“You didn’t have to say it,” you grumble as you roll on your side to stare at him. You pull the covers over your shoulders, shivering in your oversized tee and pajama shorts. Hoseok dropped the ball with this one outfit, but maybe he didn’t care too much about your sleeping clothes. 

“Goodnight, sweet girlfriend of mine,” Jungkook coos, wiggling his toes in those dreaded toe socks. 

“Goodnight,” you huff, sticking your tongue out at him.

Wednesday greeted you with Luna’s obnoxious barking. 

You groaned as you placed a pillow over your head, hoping to drown out the sound, but alas, it was no use. 

“Koo,” you whine, throwing a pillow at him. He grunts in response from his makeshift bed on the floor. 

“I hear it too,” he murmurs as he tries to cling to sleep, but it’s useless. 

Cursing, Jungkook sits up. He stretches and yawns for a minute before getting to his feet and folding his makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. His back and neck would be hating him all day. 

With all the excitement of Grandmother Jeon and your new sleeping arrangements, there wasn’t any time for any practice. 

Now you have bedhead and morning breath, and god, you hope you don’t have dried drool on the corner of your mouth. You can’t let Jungkook see you like this!

“Close your eyes!” You hiss as you scramble out of his bed. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in alarm. “What?! Why?!” 

“Just do it! Don’t look at me!” You hiss as you hear the barking move further away. You try to step over your fake boyfriend but trip on a blanket and fall beside him. 

Jungkook grunts when you elbow him in the stomach, and before either of you can move, the door opens, and Jungkook’s mother stands there with wide eyes. 

“Um, breakfast will be ready in a bit,” she says as she shuts the door as quickly as possible. Perhaps next time she’ll remember to knock, but after the commotion, she was worried someone was hurt. 

“Great,” Jungkook sighs as he falls back into his pillows to stare at the ceiling. 

What a great way to start his morning.

Jungkook’s parents and grandmother are gone for the rest of the day. Something about slot machines and Grandmother Jeon feeling lucky… or did she say she was gonna get lucky?

“Luna Patrice Jeon,” you huff, stomping your foot as you try to get her coat on her, but she wriggles in Jungkook’s beefy arms. 

The two of you were supposed to be outside five minutes ago, and all your friends and their dogs were waiting for you and Jungkook. 

Jungkook had managed to put Luna’s booties on, but she was a squirmy little thing when it came to her coat and earmuffs. Minji had been very thorough with her instructions, and Jungkook promised to watch his aunt. 

His dog-aunt.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Seokjin coos as he lets himself into the Jeon home. 

Luna pants as Seokjin rubs between her ears and easily gets the coat on her. About four inches of snow had fallen overnight, and the dogs were eager to play at the park just down the road. 

“There we go, Luna. That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Seokjin grins as he kisses the dog on the forehead and puts the earmuffs on. 

“God, he’s a dog whisperer,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, but Seokjin ignores him as he sets Luna in the stroller with her blanket and some treats. He zips the stroller shut and carries it out onto the sidewalk. 

“I can’t help it if the ladies love me,” Seokjin smirks as he sends a wink your way. You smile bashfully, giggling when he blows you a kiss. 

“Hey!” Jungkook stomps his foot. His cute bunny nose scrunching. “You’re my girlfriend!”

“Better keep her close, JK!” Jimin teases as he pushes his dog stroller. 

Namjoon and his little dog wear matching coats and booties, leading the group down the road. Taehyung pushes his stroller, where his Pomeranian sleeps wrapped in a fluffy blanket, and Seokjin carries Hoseok’s dog that he may have snatched for this outing. 

“Who knew we’d end up pushing strollers this Christmas break instead of clubbing,” Yoongi chuckles as he meets up with you at the end of the block. In his stroller with the spinning rims sits his dog, Holly.

“Almost seems like we’re growing up,” Taehyung wipes a fake tear from his cheek as the group pushes the strollers on the sidewalk. 

“Who do you think will push one of these with an actual child first?” Namjoon asks as his dog sniffs the snow, his nose freezing at the contact. 

“Jungkook,” the group answers as Jimin and Taehyung push their strollers in a light jog, racing to the first tree they see a few feet away. 

“Pfft, why me? I’m the baby,” Jungkook protests. 

“Aren’t you the one with the breeding kink?” Yoongi smirks as he walks past the two of you.

Jungkook is left flabbergasted. His face rivals a tomato’s as he feels his ears burn just as bright. 

“I told you that in confidence!”

“Whoops!” Yoongi cackles as he joins the race between Tae and Jimin.  

Jungkook wonders if four inches of melting snow would be enough to drown him.

You push the stroller with Luna, giggling as you jog past Jungkook.

“Sucks for you!” You call over your shoulder. “I’m on the pill!”

Jungkook curses Yoongi, running after him as he threatens to end the Min line with him. 

Namjoon smiles as he walks beside Seokjin, enjoying the chaos he created from his question. 

“You’re an evil little man,” Seokjin cackles as Namjoon laughs and follows the group.

Thursday afternoon is filled with last-minute Christmas shopping. 

Seojun and Saraí have joined you. Seokjin and Jimin tagged along, but it seemed they weren’t as necessary now as they thought they would be. 

Sure, Seokjin still curbed the conversation when you or Jungkook failed to answer a question or two about your relationship, but it wasn’t anything detrimental. The group honestly thought you had this in the bag, and with Christmas only three days away, there wasn’t a whole lot to worry about. 

Jungkook rubs his neck for the fifth time. He can’t seem to get rid of the soreness he’s gotten from sleeping on the floor. 

You pull him away after you lose Jimin and Seokjin in a department store with blasting Christmas music. 

“Sleep with me tonight,” you said as you held Jungkook’s hand in a surprisingly empty aisle. The hustle and bustle of shoppers falls into the background, and all Jungkook can hear is the rapid drumming of his heart.

“W-what?” He stutters with wide eyes. He toys with his lip ring, a nervous habit of his. 

“Sleep with me on the bed tonight, Kook. You’re obviously in a lot of pain, and I feel bad.” You frown as you turn him around to rub his neck and shoulders. 

Jungkook resists the urge to curse, biting his lip to hide a moan as you get into the muscles. Fuck, he really needed to sleep in a proper bed soon. 

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks as he slowly pulls your hands off him to hold in his.

“It’s only for a few more days,” you shrug. “Grandmother Jeon leaves for her cruise before the new year, so why not?”

Jungkook is reluctant, but as a cramp hits his neck. 

He nods. “If you’re sure.”

“Definitely,” you smile as you lace your fingers with his to lead him out of the aisle. You lead him out of the store and toward the giant Christmas tree in the center of the mall. 

You take your phone out and snap a cute picture of the two of you before looking at it and see mistletoe on one of the branches above your head. 

Jungkook blushes as he pecks your lips, but you pull him back in for another kiss. You fist his jacket in your hand as you pull him close, your lips moving with his perfectly as the cool metal of his lip ring brushes your lips. You moan when he nips at your lip, gently sucking it before releasing it. 

His dark gaze sends tingles down your spine as you wrap your arms around his neck, and he leans in to kiss you again. 

“Tonight,” Jungkook murmured against your lips, the two of you stuck like magnets, unwilling to pull apart. 

“Tonight,” you agree as you kiss him again, your fingers tugging on his lush locks just enough to make him curse against your lips. 

“You’ll pay for that, baby,” he groans when you do it again.  

“I can’t wait, Koo.”

Your shower takes longer than usual that night. You shave, exfoliate, and lotion every bit of you that Jungkook might touch. 

You’re nervous but excited at the thought of him touching you. Just kissing you nearly sends you over the edge sometimes, and the way he grips your hips as if he must be anchored to you to breathe, well, it’s a nice feeling. 

By the time you’re climbing into bed, the house is silent. Jungkook turns on his mood lamp, and his playlist plays softly in the background. 

He’s made sure to lock the door this time to keep his mother out. 

A purple towel is draped over his shoulders as he plops down on the desk chair. He gives his hair one more rub, but he’s already had the hairdryer on it for a bit. 

You try not to ogle his bare chest, the colorful sleeve of tattoos grabbing your attention almost 

immediately as he sets the towel down.  

“Mind if I sleep without a shirt on? I tend to run hot,” he explains as he tongues his ring. 

“That’s fine,” you squeak as heat rushes to your cheeks. You pull the covers to your chest, wiggling your toes as you avoid meeting his gaze. Though his abs are now in your view, and your thighs press together in response. What you wouldn’t give to kiss every beautiful ridge of his torso, taking your time on his sensitive brown nipples. You wonder if he’d ever get them pierced. 

“Need anything while I’m up, babe?” Jungkook asks as he stretches, his arms raised over his head and you nearly whimper as you feast on his perfect physique. 

You’re nearly salivating by the time he’s finished stretching. He tilts his head as he waits for your answer but you blink owlishly and finally meet his gaze. 

“Hmm?” You ask as you blink again as he laughs. He shakes his head as he crosses the distance between you, moving the blankets out of the way as he gets into bed with you. 

“You’re adorable,” he whispers as he pecks your nose.

You smile, clearing your throat as you lie on the bed. Jungkook turns on his side to face you, and you do the same. His arm drapes over your waist, and you snuggle in closer.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, almost as if it were a secret. Perhaps it is with the way he strokes your waist, refusing to make eye contact; afraid of what his words will shift. 

“I’m glad I’m here too, Kook. I don’t want to be anywhere else,” you admit as his gaze meets yours. He studies you for a few moments. His beautiful eyes sparkle like the stars in the night sky, shining brighter and brighter with each passing second until they flutter shut and his lips mold to yours. 

“Jungkook,” his name rolls off your tongue so sweetly. 

“Yeah, baby?” He asks in between kisses, his hands never straying from your hips until you guide them upward to cup your tits. He curses, dark eyes piercing through your soul as you make him squeeze them. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

Jungkook kisses you again, swallowing your moans as his thumbs brush your pert nipples. Your hands settle on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he trails kisses down your neck until he hits that one spot that has you seeing stars behind your lids.  

“Jungkook,” you sigh as you part your legs for him. He settles between them as your nails rake down his broad muscular back. You’d love to kiss every inch of it. Leave your mark behind for all to see. For now, you’ll settle for your scratch marks, storing each of his delicious sounds for later. 

Fiery lips meet yours as his hips rock against you. His hands feel every bit of you, moving when he notes any hesitation.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly, his gaze locked on yours. 

You nod.

“I need words, baby,” he says as he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “I need to hear it.”

“Please,” you swallow thickly, mesmerized by his soft doe eyes. “I want it. Want you.”

Jungkook traces your bottom lip with his thumb, admiring your beauty for a moment before he kisses you again as if it were the last time. 

Time means nothing to you as you melt beneath him. His hands are hot against your flesh, needy where they meet to pull you closer. Your name escapes him between moans and gasps, your hand guiding him between your legs. 

“Please,” you beg as he pushes your shorts to the side, groaning when he feels how wet you are. 

“No panties, darling?” He grins as he kisses your jaw and trails downward. 

“Didn’t think I needed them,” you gasp when his fingers brush your clit. He’s teasing you. He wants to see how far he can take you before you beg him for more, plead and whine until he gives you just what you need. 

Jungkook licks his lips, shaking his long hair out of his eyes before he tongues his lip ring. His breath fans against your heated skin, teeth gently nipping your earlobe as he whispers, “You were right.”

Your thighs shake at the sound of his seductive tone, spreading further for him as he lifts your shirt to bunch above your breasts. 

“Keep that right there, baby. Can you do that for me?” He raises a brow, and you nod. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing your lips before making his way down until his fingers are tugging on your flimsy sleep shorts. 

“Can I take these off?” Jungkook asks as he meets your eyes. You nod, feeling fire pool deep in your belly. You want him desperately, almost embarrassingly, with how soaked you are for him already. 

When he doesn’t make a move to take them off, you remember he wants you to be vocal about your consent.

“Yes, please.” 

Jungkook pulls the shorts down your legs at a snail’s pace, giving you enough time to change your mind if you wish to. You encourage him by lifting your hips and kicking the shorts off to be lost on his bedroom floor. 

You don’t get a chance to be self-conscious as he cups your face and kisses you so deeply, that you almost wonder if he’s in love with you. 

The pounding of your heart is deafening as the kiss deepens and his hips press against your cunt. Your name rolls off his tongue, cursing and groaning when his hard cock grinds against you. 

“You’ve soaked my sweatpants,” he laughs breathily, and you clench around nothing. Your face feels like it’s burning, but from lust or embarrassment, you’re not sure. Jungkook kisses your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. 

“S-sorry,” you apologized as he rubs your clit, his nimble fingers circling it just to make you whine. Jungkook teases your entrance with his tattooed fingers, loving the way you whimper and beg for more, biting your bottom lip to keep from getting too loud. 

“Fuck, baby,” you moan when he finally sinks two fingers in knuckle-deep. You clench around them as he slowly fucks them into you, his thumb rubbing your clit as he focuses on the rise and fall of your chest.  

Jungkook palms his cock with his other hand, moaning softly when your eyes lock. He smirks as you reach for him and he places your hand on his cock. 

“Can you take them off?” You ask bashfully, and he chuckles before slowly taking his fingers out of you. He sucks them into his mouth, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he gets a taste of you. 

Fuck, he’d have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day for the rest of his life if you’d let him. 

Your thighs tremble as he steps back, cunt soaked and dripping onto his sheets. You’re the first girl he’s had in his bed like this and he hopes your scent lingers long after you’re back home. 

Jungkook is a vision. An Adonis among men. Michaelangelo himself would have shed a tear upon gazing at the masterpiece that is Jeon Jungkook. 

Speechless, you reach for him as he chuckles. He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before placing it on his chest. 

“Do as you wish, my love,” Jungkook says as he follows your hand with his hooded gaze. 

Your brain seems to be empty of all thoughts except Jungkook. His name, his body, that sinful smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. He’s eyeing you with mirth, licking his lips as your hand descends until it’s cupping his erection. 

“Fuck,” he breathes as you stroke him, your fingers sliding under his boxers to feel the weight of him in your palm. He groans, whispering your name as you continue to stroke him, pausing only to spit in your hand. He takes the moment to tug his boxers off.

Jungkook kisses you as you touch him again, his fingers finding their home between your thighs as he gets you to nearly sing his name in praise as you tighten around him. 

“Wish you were wrapped around my fat cock, babe. I’d make you scream even louder,” he goads as you muffle your cries in his broad shoulder right beside his little scar. 

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as he kisses you deeply. It’s hot, messy, all teeth and tongues and desperate touches as his cock pressed against your clit. You’re soaking wet, dripping onto the sheets and allowing his cock to glide easily, the fat head bumping against your clit as your legs wrap around him trembling at his sides. 

“Koo!” You whine, biting down on his shoulder. Hasty kisses meet his skin as you soothe the pain of your love bite. Your body becomes overwhelmed with pleasure, arching into him as you orgasm, squeezing his fingers until they’re soaked beyond his wrist. 

Jungkook cries out your name, lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss that swallows his moans and groans as he cums all over your cunt. His hips rock against you until he’s well spent, cock too sensitive to go on. 

“Shit!” He breathes as he lies beside you with his arm over his head. 

You’re warm and sticky beside him, his cum coating your skin generously. Jungkook kisses your cheek as he pulls you to him, using his other hand to fix his boxers. 

He doesn’t like the way they cling to him and he’ll be sure to clean himself up as well as you before you go to sleep. 

Silence fills the space between you as you stare at each other with bashful smiles and gentle touches. Jungkook kisses your lips softly, his fingers caressing your cheek.  

“I really do like you, ya know,” he admits, and it sends your heart soaring into the heavens. 

You bite back a giant grin as you lace your fingers together. “I really like you too.”

Jungkook blushes, kissing you once more before he climbs out of bed to get cleaned up. He assures you he’ll be back in a few minutes and he cleans you up with a warm washcloth and helps you to the bathroom. 

Once you’re both in bed again, he snuggles into you. His fluffy hair splays on your chest as he snores softly. You smile to yourself as you hold back a yawn. 

Jungkook sleeps soundly as you stroke his hair, hoping this can be more than just pretend. 

Christmas Eve brings a blanket of snow and Seojun and Saraí. 

Though you and Jungkook haven’t done more than fool around that one night, you’ve found it hard to keep your hands to yourself. 

Seojun, Saraí, and Jungkook took you sledding at one of their favorite spots. 

Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi were already there when you arrived, holding hands with Jungkook. 

“Where are Joon and Seokjin?” You ask as you hide your face from the wind on Jungkook's shoulder. He laughs as he tightens your scarf and kisses your head. 

“They went to pick up Hoseok at the train station. Hoseok’s parents are busy prepping for Christmas Eve dinner, and his sister is bringing someone home,” Jimin explains as he hands his sled to Taehyung to take a turn.  

“Sounds serious,” Yoongi comments with a sly grin. 

“My parents keep asking when I’ll bring someone home,” Jimin sighs. “Are you free next Christmas?”

Jungkook scoffs. “As if.”

“Not you.” Jimin rolls his eyes before saying your name. 

Yoongi laughs as Taehyung comes back. 

“I don’t think passing me around as a fake girlfriend is what your parents mean, Min,” you shake your head as you take the sled from Taehyung. 

Jimin shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

Jungkook glares at him before you tug him away to the top of the hill. He helps you onto the sled before he gets on behind you and pushes. You scream and close your eyes as you go down, laughing when you come to a stop moments later. 

“Wanna go again?” Jungkook grins as he helps you up. You shake your head as you pat the snow off your clothing. 

“I’m good,” you laugh. “Once was enough.”

The trek back up the hill is rough as you stomp in the snow to reach your friends. Jungkook hands the sled to Yoongi as he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. 

Despite admitting to liking each other, you haven’t talked to determine what that means. For one, you kind of like this limbo you’re in where you’re not not together but also not truly faking either. 

At one point or another, you’ll have to have that conversation, but it’s Christmas Eve, and Jungkook looks too cute with his giant snowball. 

Oh, no.

He’s heading toward you and Jimin. This is what happens when you get lost in thought. Jimin grabs your hand and pulls as Yoongi and Taehyung run in the opposite direction.  

Jungkook cackles as he chases after you and Jimin. The snowball rises high in the air as he shouts, “Come get your Christmas gift, Park!”

Luna herds the family up the stairs later that night when she’s ready for bed.

Jungkook and you wear your matching pajamas. An evening of food, laughter, and photos has drained you as you go up the stairs after Minji and Luna. 

Jungkook keeps his hand on your lower back, guiding your sleepy self up the stairs and down the hall. 

“Goodnight, honey,” Minji kisses Jungkook’s cheek and then yours. 

You smile as you climb into bed with Jungkook beside you. His mood lamp is on, and you’re grateful for the pink stars that light the ceiling. Even at your age, you’re still a little scared of the dark.  

“What’s on your mind?” Jungkook asks as he rolls to his side to face you. 

You face him, your fingers laced with his. 

“I’m just really glad I came to your home for the holidays. It’s been amazing. You, your family, everything has been perfect.” you smile warmly as he brings your knuckles to his lips to kiss gently. 

“I’m glad you came. I know this whole thing has been a little odd, but getting to know you and being here with you has been the best part of this Christmas.” Jungkook pecks you on the lips, unable to control the smile that lights up his face. 

Your gaze holds his, the sparkle in his eyes making you fall for him a little more as they grow brighter with each passing second.

“Kiss me,” you whisper as you lean in closer, and he closes the distance between you with his lips. They’re soft and taste like strawberry chapstick when they brush against your lips. You break apart for a moment, his eyes revealing more than you want to speak of now. 

Instead, you whisper, “Kiss me again.”

Slowly, Jungkook kisses you again. He cups your face while you tug on his shirt, quickly removing it from him. 

His breathy laugh brushes your skin as he noses at your throat. “Eager?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, climbing on top of him as his hands grip your hips. 

Jungkook groans at your words, licking his lips as you take your top off to discard on the bedroom floor. Your fingers make quick work of your bra and soon you’re left topless and horny on top of him. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses as he gets an eyeful of your breasts and nearly drools as his hands move upwards to cup them in his hands. You moan his name when his fingers brush the sensitive nipples, making them peak. 

As much as he loves seeing you on top, Jungkook wants to take his time with you. This was a turn of events he wasn’t expecting, otherwise, he would have waited for your first time together to be at his place, in private where you could scream his name as loud as you wanted. 

However, he won’t pass up the chance to have you. You’ve had such a hard time keeping your hands off each other even around your friends. Stealing kisses and sneaking off to make out in dim hallways and busy restaurant alleys. Light touches under tables, lustful looks shared across the room until you could sneak off together and kiss as if your lives depended on it. 

If Jungkook could do this all over again, he would. Only he’d make you his from the get-go. But that’s a thought for another time as your hands glide up his torso, moaning at the sight of him. 

“Jungkook,” his name tumbles so sweetly from your kiss-swollen lips. 

His breath fans across your face as he chuckles. His dark locks create a curtain between you. Slowly, your fingers push his hair out of the way to find his sparkling eyes locked on yours. You melt beneath him as he kisses you. 

Your hands grip his strong shoulders as your legs wrap around his hips to pull him close. Jungkook laughs at your eagerness, teeth nipping your bottom lip before releasing it. 

Jungkook kisses his way down to your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin until his name fills the bedroom. You cover your mouth to muffle your moans, but he’s quick to remove it. 

With lust-filled eyes, you watch as he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each fingertip until he’s kissing your palm and moving upwards. 

Jungkook wants to take his time with you. Show you his appreciation from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. He knows you’ll only let him do so much before you beg for more, more, more…

Like clockwork, your fingers thread through his hair directing his lips to yours as you kiss him with everything you’ve got. He moans against your lips, cursing when you tug on his bottom lip. 

Your hands move downward across the massive expanse of his back, each muscle rippling beneath your touch as you arch into him. Your hips grind against him, the thin material of your shorts already soaking wet with your arousal. 

Jungkook nearly growls when he feels it, cock throbbing in the next moment. He hikes your leg up higher on his waist, his hand grabbing your ass as his lips feverishly seek yours. 

Gasps and moans fill the space between you in between hot, needy kisses that make your toes curl. Panting, you beg him for more as his hands tug your shorts off to toss on the bedroom floor; forgotten until morning. 

You lay bare beneath him as he sat back on his haunches. His hands lace with yours, a soft bashful smile on his lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes never straying from yours as he leans in for a kiss. 

Jungkook’s had enough teasing. His hands grip your thighs, cursing when he feels your wetness on your skin. He slowly rubs your clit, his dark hooded gaze on yours. 

“Fuck, baby,” he curses as he moves his fingers downward and slowly slides them inside you. He watches you closely; loves the way your eyes flutter shut and your teeth sink into your bottom lip as he curls his fingers and rubs your clit with his thumb. 

“Kook,” you moan when he goes faster, slipping a little deeper just to watch you tremble. “Fuck me.”

You’re tired of waiting. You’ve wanted this since before you shared your first kiss and now being naked in his bed is becoming too much. You’ve dreamed of this time and time again and it’s about to become a reality if Jungkook can stop teasing you and just split you open. 

You’ll beg, plead, and cry if you have to just for a taste of him. Just for a moment of sweet bliss. 

“Please,” you beg as your hands palm over his cock in his pajama pants. You’re quick to tug them downward and Jungkook laughs at your excitement. He gets off the bed to kick them off and your mouth waters at the sight of his thick cock as he wraps his hand around it and strokes it. 

You bite your bottom lip, watching him intently until you’re getting on your knees and crawling to the edge of the bed. 

Jungkook groans when your hand wraps around his length. Your tongue licking the head teasingly. His gaze burns into the top of your head as your lips wrap around him. You relax your jaw as you take him in further, drooling all over yourself as you remind yourself to breathe through your nose. 

He feels heavy on your tongue as you open wider. His hands grip your hair hesitantly before you pull off him. 

“Don’t be scared,” you giggle. “I won’t break.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans as you wrap your lips around him once again. He lets you find your pace, not pushing too deep before he’s guiding you. Your hand rolls his balls while the other strokes him. 

“Just like that. Fuck,” Jungkook throws his head back, the mood lamp illuminates the room, accentuating the veins in his neck, and he curses again. You moan around him, slurping as you get messy, bobbing up and down, gagging on his fat cock while Jungkook loses his mind over your pretty lips. 

He pulls on your hair, using it to fuck your mouth until your nose presses to his abdomen. You choke, pulling off him to catch your breath. 

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Jungkook tongues his lip ring as he takes you in. You’re breathing heavily trying to catch your breath. Your hair is mussed from him tugging on it, and your lips are smeared with spit and his pre-cum. You look beautiful.

Jungkook leans forward, kissing you. All teeth and tongue, unable to resist how gorgeous you look in that moment. 

It’s not too long before you’re back on the bed with your legs spread wide open for him, begging for his cock once again. 

“So needy,” Jungkook coos as he strokes himself, the fat head of his cock brushing your clit. 

“Please,” you whimper, trying to raise your hips in hopes that he’ll just slide right in. “Fuck.”

Jungkook bites his lip. He’s never seen anyone so desperate for his dick. It makes him throb as he teases your entrance and a whine of his name escapes you, nails digging into his back. 

“Don’t make me find someone else,” you huff. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he kisses your jaw, trailing upward to your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth. 

“They can’t fuck you as good as I will,” he laughs cockily. 

You arch into him, lips meeting his in a needy kiss as he slides into you. The stretch is wonderful. Stars illuminate your vision as Jungkook’s lips muffle the moan that threatens to wake the whole house. 

The two of you have managed to keep the noises down to a reasonable level but Jungkook knows his luck might run out if he gets too carried away. Shit, he should have waited until he had you to himself at his apartment or even your dorm. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby. Or I’ll have to stop,” Jungkook whispers as he sinks in further. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“No, please don’t stop. Koo,” you press your lips to his shoulder as he goes deeper, gripping your thighs with his large hands. He settles between your legs perfectly, cursing at the ceiling at how warm and wet you feel wrapped around him. It’s better than he could have ever imagined. 

Jungkook grabs both of your legs, throwing them over his left shoulder as he pummels into you. 

Tears flow down your cheeks. The pleasure is too overwhelming, lighting your body ablaze with each deep thrust that rewards you. 

“So tight,” Jungkook grunts as his hair falls over his eyes. He pushes it back with his tattooed hand before moving it down to grope your breast, his fingers rolling your nipple just to listen to the sweet cries that escape you. 

You tighten around him, soaking his cock as you cover your mouth with your hand. 

Jungkook smiles, fucking you deeper, harder. Your cunt clings to him, thighs shaking as he holds your legs to his chest. His lips press a kiss to your calf before you dig your nails into the sheets beneath you, beyond ruined. 

The creaking of the mattress is louder than Jungkook would like, but you look like you’re about to combust. His name leaves your lips in quick succession, nearly panting as tears roll down your cheeks, leaving behind stains as you bite your hand to keep from screaming his name as you tighten around him when you cum. 

Jungkook fucks you slower, eyes focused on where your bodies connect. He waits for you to calm down, leaning forward to kiss your lips. 

“Can you go for one more?” Jungkook asks in between kisses, your tongue meeting his as he cups your face. 

“Yes,” you answer honestly, wanting more of him. 

Jungkook kisses you one more time, moaning into the kiss as you clench around his cock. He nearly growls when you do it again, moving your hips against his.  

“Let me get you on your hands and knees, darling,” Jungkook says as he pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. 

Jungkook chuckles. “Easy, doll. You’ll have my ego growing bigger.”

You laugh, flipping him off. Jungkook laughs, leaning forward to gently nibble on your finger before you rip it out of his mouth.

Smirking, Jungkook helps you onto your knees as you plant your hands on the bed, arching your back. 

Jungkook runs his tattooed hand over your back, gently slapping your ass just to watch it jiggle. He couldn’t lie, seeing you in jeans made his mouth water and there were a few times he had to excuse himself after staring at it for too long. 

“Kook,” you say his name in a wanton tone that makes him melt. 

Your eyes lock and he smiles as he grabs your ass in both hands, spreading you open for him. Your face grows hot as you turn around, unable to handle the dark lust-filled gaze he rewarded you with. 

Jungkook doesn’t waste any more time as he lines himself up at your entrance, cursing when you welcome him easily. 

His hands grip your hips tightly, almost enough to bruise. His name rolls off your tongue. You nearly drool when he reaches places others have only dreamed of. 

You're so warm, so wet. It nearly drives him insane as he spears you on his cock. You’re soaking him, absolutely drenching him, and ruining him for anyone else. You’re the only one he wants, the only one he could ever want, and as he throws his head back in pleasure, he loses himself to thoughts he’d only shared with Yoongi. 

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook growls, gripping your ass as he continues to fuck you. He cards his hand through his hair, feeling sweat bead on his brow as you grow restless and fuck yourself on his dick. 

“Just like that, baby. Use me. Use my cock. Fuck,” Jungkook groans as you fuck yourself on him, panting and moaning. He can see you biting down on his pillow, cunt pulsing around him as you scream into the pillow trying to keep quiet. 

Jungkook watches you for another moment or two before he’s slamming into you. You cry out, face buried in his pillow as he grabs handfuls of your hips and ass, unable to decide what to use to anchor himself as he fills you again and again. 

“Fuck, darling. You feel so good wrapped around me,” Jungkook grunts as his eyes flutter shut. His body tingles all over, and your moans are growing in octaves despite the pillow clenched between your teeth soaked with spit and tears. 

The obscene smacking of your coupling is almost too loud but Jungkook can’t be damned to give a single fuck as you clench around him, nearly milking his cock. He moans your name and curses as you tighten around him, moaning incoherently as you orgasm once again. Your poor legs shake as you ride it out, sobbing unintelligibly into the bed as praises you. 

“Want to fuck you full of my cum, baby,” Jungkook can’t help himself as he thrusts in deeper. He’s so close. His lip is caught between his teeth as you fuck yourself weakly on his cock, your body still tingling. 

“Please, do it,” you spur him on as you clench around him, tempting him. 

“Baby!”

“Jungkook!”

“Gonna fill you up until you’re dripping. Gonna fuck it all back into you, baby. Make you think of me all day.” Jungkook curses as you meet each of his thrusts, his fingers finding your sensitive clit as you muffle a wail of his name in your hand.

“Come on, love. Just one more for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook encourages as he nears the edge. He curses, losing himself as he fills you, and you tighten around him, soaking him and the sheets. A whimper escapes you as you fall forward on the bed, utterly spent. 

Jungkook exhales deeply as he fills you to the brim before pulling out. He’s tempted to spread your legs and set them on his broad shoulders, lick you clean, and put you to bed. 

But you’re spent, eyes barely open as you reach for him. 

Jungkook kisses you gently. “Gotta clean you up, babe.”

You groan, legs already feeling sore. Jungkook helps you out of bed. He puts a shirt on you and opens his bedroom door as quietly as possible. He peeks into the hallway, making sure the coast is clear before he leads you to the bathroom. 

Jungkook made sure you were steady enough to not fall before he ran to the room to change the sheets and pillowcases. By the time you’re back, he’s in a pair of boxers. 

“Get in bed, babe,” he instructs as he helps you in and tucks you in. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch him go, waiting for him and smiling when he comes back a few minutes later with some water. He lets you drink a bit before he gets into bed beside you. 

You curl into him, still unsure of what all this means, but you don’t care much when he wraps you up in his arms and holds you close. 

“Sleep well, darling.”

Christmas morning passes in a whirlwind of breakfast and movies. Lots of stories from Jungkook’s childhood; few you heard from the man himself and more from his parents. Jungkook grows embarrassed soon, but nothing beats the flush on his cheeks when his mother pulls out the photo albums. Lunch came and passed with more stories and photos as Jungkook hid his face on your shoulder.

It’s not until after dinner that you’re all gathered in the living room with Minji and the Jeons. 

“Come here, dear,” Minji pats the spot beside her as she holds a large pink photo album in her lap. One she brought for your arrival. 

Jungkook sits on the arm of the couch next to you, curious eyes on the album as Minji opens it and takes out two envelopes. 

One she hands to Jungkook and the other to you. 

You’re confused. The family had exchanged gifts just after dinner with good wishes and warm coffee and cookies. Wrapping paper and gift bags still littered the living room floor. 

“The two of you are so good together,” Minji comments as Jungkook kisses the top of your head. “I had this same talk with Saraí and Seojun when he first brought her home. Same with your father and your mother, and now you.”

Minji places a hand on yours. “I first met Jungkook’s grandfather at the Christmas parade in town. Oh, we couldn’t stand each other one bit!”

Jungkook chuckles as he listens to his grandmother.

“We were assigned the same parade float, and I swear that man was as stubborn as a mule! He wanted goats instead of reindeer, fireworks instead of candles, and he wanted me to be Santa! He said he’d be an elf! He was over six feet tall! An elf!” Minji shakes her head as she points to a photo of her as an elf and who you assume to be Jungkook’s grandfather as Santa. 

“I arm wrestled him for it!” Minji exclaims proudly. “In front of his friends, and I won fair and square! I grew up with three brothers.”

You laugh as she turns the page, and Minji sits with her brothers. They all smile in the photo and make silly faces. 

“I thought he’d be embarrassed that I beat him. But I got my way. I stood my ground and he claimed that’s when he knew I was the one for him,” Minji continues as she flips the page and runs her fingers over her wedding photo. 

Tears pool in your eyes as you look at Jungkook. He looks like he’s about to cry, and guilt fills your chest. 

“That man gave me a wonderful life. Beautiful children and cute grandkids. I miss him every day. Stubborn man he was, but there was nothing we couldn’t get through together.” Minji wipes a stray tear before smiling fondly. 

“Anyway,” she sniffles as she sets the album on the coffee table. 

“I wanted to give you two something special to get you started. I know you haven’t been together for too long, but Jungkook looks at you the way his grandfather looked at me and you the way I looked at him. I know it deep in my soul that you two belong together.” Minji smiles warmly as she takes your hand and Jungkook’s. “Be good to each other.”

You wipe a few tears and look at Jungkook. He opens the envelope, and it holds a photo of a home (not an apartment) with the address written on the back and a small gold key. 

You can’t do this. 

Not anymore.

The Jeons have welcomed you with open arms and all you’ve done is lie to them. Guilt washes over you in waves as you force yourself not to cry. This is wrong. 

You hand the envelope back to Minji before rising to your feet. Your heart pounds in your chest, nearly deafening you as you try (and fail) to steel yourself. 

“We lied,” you state, wringing your hands in front of you. 

Jungkook frowns as he hands his envelope back to Minji. Guilt bubbles deep in his belly, and he knows this has gone too far. He should have never gone on with this scheme. Conning his grandmother? He felt terrible. He should have told the truth from the beginning. 

“We aren’t a couple,” Jungkook admits, feeling the confused stares of his family. “We lied to you all.”

Aera and Dae stare at their youngest son and then at you. 

Minji shakes her head.

“I lied,” Jungkook continues as he takes your hand. “She had nothing to do with it. I begged her to help me. I’m so sorry, Grandmother Jeon.”

Seojun stares with furrowed brows as Saraí places her hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t fathom why his little brother would lie.

“I thought Grandmother Jeon would give me an apartment or something if she thought I was seeing someone seriously like Seojun.” Jungkook hangs his head in shame. “The lie kept growing and growing until I was too embarrassed to tell the truth. I never meant to hurt anyone. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not all his fault, Grandmother Jeon,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I agreed to help. You’ve all been so welcoming, and I didn’t have a place to go for the holidays, and I agreed. We never intended to harm anyone. We’re both so sorry.”

Minji laughs from her seat, surprising Aera and Dae. 

“I know all about your little scheme,” Minji laughs, shaking her head as if this were the most comical thing she has witnessed. “Jimin’s grandmother hits the slot machines with me, and that boy sure loves to open his mouth. I’ve known since I arrived, honey.”

“Jungkook! Why would you lie? You know you could have told us anything!” Aera crosses her arms as she scolds her son. 

“I just felt pressured,” Jungkook admits, and his mother sinks. “I hadn’t dated in a while, and I know you’d like to see me married like Seojun, but it just seemed like this is what everyone wanted from me.”

“Son,” Dae approaches him, hugging him. “We know we can be a little pushy, and I promise you will no longer feel pressured to settle down. We just got excited over Seojun. We wanted you to have the same happiness and partnership he and Saraí do.”

“Your father’s right,” Aera nods as she hugs Jungkook. “Oh, my baby! I’m so sorry for pressuring you! I just worry about you being alone so far away.”

“I’m fine, mom. I’ve got friends, and now I have her.” Jungkook reaches for you once his parents release him from their hugs.

Aera hugs you. “I’m so sorry for all this. We enjoy having you here. You’ve made our son and family so happy with your presence. It’s been a joy getting to know you and seeing how happy you’ve made our Kookie.”

You smile, hugging her tight before Minji hands Jungkook the envelope again. 

“That’s yours to do as you please,” she states as she hands you your envelope.

You open it and gasp when you see two tickets to a resort you’ve wanted to go to. They’re dated for Spring Break.

“I’ve got a place down there that you’re welcome to visit during your vacation, but Jimin’s grandmother and I will be busy partying.”

“Mother!” Dae exclaims in shock. 

“What? I’m old enough to drink! I’ve been old enough to drink.” she shakes her head with a laugh. 

“I can’t accept this.” you try to return it, but Minji won’t take it. 

“No takebacks!” She grins as she rises from the couch, and Luna follows her, yapping at her ankles. 

“Should we go see the Christmas lights?” Seojun suggests as he rises to his feet and helps Saraí. 

The family heads out to join the rest of the neighborhood on a walk. Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin join you as you let your families go on ahead without you. 

“How’d it go?” Hoseok asks as he shivers, his ears peeking from his beanie. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin grins. “Did you get the apartment?”

“Did the plan work?” Taehyung questions. 

“Yes,” you say with a wry smile. 

“And no.” Jungkook shakes his head. 

“Huh?” Yoongi furrows his brows. 

“Jimin needs to learn that gossiping with your grandmother can bite you in the butt!” Jungkook hisses as he laces his fingers with yours. 

Jimin pales, turning his head and whistling to appear nonchalant. 

“Yeah, Min!” You agree with a laugh as Jungkook kisses your cheek. 

“I thought she’d forget!” Jimin defends as he gets playfully shoved by his friends. The snow crunches beneath your feet as you continue to walk, the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting on the snow. 

“Oh no,” you giggle. “Jimin’s grandmother told Grandmother Jeon.”

“And she knew the moment she stepped into the house,” Jungkook sighed with a shake of his head. 

“Whoops!” Jimin laughs. 

“So much for ‘Con Jungkook’s Grandma, huh?” Namjoon sighed as a chill ran through him. His scarf fluttered in the light wind as snowflakes fell from the sky. 

“Shut up!” Jungkook laughs as he stops to form a snowball. 

Seokjin laughs, pulling Yoongi with him as they run away from Jungkook. 

Hoseok and Jimin slam into each other in their haste to escape the ricocheting snowball that smacks Namjoon in the chest. 

Namjoon curses, forming a snowball as Taehyung runs away, following Yoongi and Seokjin, begging them to protect him. 

You laugh as you take off, running with Jungkook as Namjoon hurls a snowball in your direction. 

Laughter fills the streets of the neighborhood as more people join the snowball fight while you jog away with Jungkook, holding hands as you hide behind a tree for cover. 

You’re pressed to his chest, peeking to see if you’ve been discovered yet, but being so far away from everyone just means silence surrounds you. 

The evening is quiet as snow continues to fall, and Jungkook wraps his scarf around you to keep you warm. You’re wearing matching coats, hands warm in your gloves as he pulls you closer. 

Everything fades into nothingness as his gaze meets yours. His hand is gentle when he cups your face. His gaze flits to your lips and back to your eyes. 

“You know this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Jungkook whispers. 

“Me too,” you whisper as you hold his gaze.

“There’s only one thing that would make it better,” Jungkook smiles softly.

“And what’s that?” You ask as you bite your bottom lip.

“If you were mine,” Jungkook said with a dimpled smile. “For real this time.”

“I think I can make that happen,” you tease with a coquette smile. “But only with a kiss.”

Chuckling, Jungkook cups your face. “As you wish, baby.”

Jungkook captures your lips with his own, moaning when your fingers thread in his hair. He kisses you deeply as snowflakes coat your hair and his. 

There’s nothing better than kissing Jungkook, your boyfriend. The word makes your heart skip a beat as he deepens the kiss, soft moans escaping the both of you as your lips move in sync. 

Jungkook can’t help but be elated. His heart flutters as he realizes this is your first Christmas together. The first of many. He can see his future in your eyes—a home, a marriage, and children running down these streets covered in snow and Christmas lights. 

There’s nothing more he could ever want.

When he catches your gaze, a bashful smile appears on your lips as you ask, “What?” 

Jungkook shakes his head slightly, “Nothing. Just thinking about next Christmas.” 

“Oh, will I be back?” You ask cheekily as he pulls you closer, the laughter of your friends ringing in the background as they grow closer. 

“Definitely.” Jungkook seals his promise with a kiss just as your friends arrive, hooting as they circle you.

 “Come on, lovebirds,” Namjoon huffs. “Momma Jeon’s got hot chocolate and cookies waiting for us.” 

You laugh as Jungkook takes your hand, smiling as his friends race down the sidewalk to be the first on Momma Jeon’s porch. You smile, imagining all your Christmases like this, with your friends and Jungkook at your side. 

Before you reach his home, Jungkook stops you just beneath the door frame before pointing up. Mistletoe hangs above your head, and you share a smile. Jungkook gently places his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing it as he whispers, “Merry Christmas.” before he kisses you.

<&lt; part one

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[fireworksgalaxy]

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ cr. namuspromised.

[jiminrings]

pink sapphire

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. your relationship's perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn't think sometimes — and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

[ angst, arranged marriage au, fluff n really wholesome scenes (it cancels out the angst i swear), Jungkook Tries Hard (affectionate), miscommunication, jealousy, self-deprecation, sexual innuendos (no actual smut here!!), did i already say that jungkook tries rlly hard and is remorseful the whole time ]

notes: my year-ender fic for 2022 :) thank u for being here — i'm grateful for all ur love n support!! i'll see u in the next one <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s a vocal person.

Your husband does not leave a single thought unspoken, sometimes his thinkpieces too impulsive that when he says them in public, you try to play it off by either distancing yourself with him or from him.

“I think the world would be just fine even if all the bees disappear,” Jungkook once said to you with conviction, midway into chewing his cheeseburger. “There’s articles about it proving otherwise but they’re too long for my attention span, but yeah, I don’t think it would be that bad, y’know?” he giggles, looking up at the ceiling in serious thought. “If anything, the Bee Movie taught us that-…” 

Jungkook yelps automatically when you pinch his thigh, your hand sternly gripping his knee like both your reputations depended on it (they really did). “Jungkook, we’re literally in a climate change gala right now.”

“I don’t think coffee’s ever that serious. Seriously, world barista championships? New techniques in supposedly making the best cup of coffee when you’re all just gonna shit it ten minutes later? It’s not that deep,” Jungkook once whispered to you in urgency, his annoyance through the roof. He’s glued to your side, intent on whispering all about his irritation.

“Jungkook, I’m begging you,” you wince, screwing your eyes shut and slowly moving the two of you to the far end of the room. “We were literally right next to your uncle whose new wife is the organizer for that very championship you’re shitting on.”

“We need to talk about the tote bag epidemic,” Jungkook once whisper-yelled to you in a rush, holding you by the arm because he just can’t contain his inner thoughts any longer. You’re thankful, sure, that you’re your husband’s go-to person for all of his random thoughts; it’s just that he picks the worst settings to tell them to you.

“They look kinda tacky, everybody deludes themselves that they’re functional even if they have zero pockets, and-…”

“And you just offended atleast three different age groups and all of them are in this café. We need to leave.”

Jungkook’s endearing this way, raw and a tad bit annoying. He’s expressive as much as he’s vocal, his hand slotted on your waist like second nature to him. Being married to him isn’t bad. Sure, the circumstances of your union in the first place were for business anyway, but the both of you understood and agreed at the end of the day. By all means, he’s ideal — ideal until he opens his mouth when he’s sleeping.

If there’s anything that your two years of marriage (and counting) to Jungkook makes you realize, it’s that you should value your peace and sanity more than anything.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook groggily asks you with one eye open, conveniently seeing you in the act of hovering around him with an ominous object in your hand. Maybe it’s the sleep in his eyes or the fog in his brain, but when you look at him like this– bothered and passionately frustrated, it makes him love you even more.

“No,” you mutter, the snoring mouth strip in your hands just begging to be put on already. “I’m trying to make you quiet.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Perhaps it’s the sleep in your eyes or the fog in your brain, but you swear you just saw your husband crack a smirk despite keeping you up multiple nights a week, especially for the past month. He’s not endearing tonight, not at all.

“Isn’t marriage all about accepting each other’s flaws?” Jungkook frowns, about to turn on his side when you put your knee to block him.

“We’re arranged,” you deadpan. “I can’t accept you snoring with bass and reverb every night, Jungkook. I can barely sleep.”

“But didn’t you tell me you like it when I make noises?” Jungkook glares playfully. Bringing up your sex life with him out of the blue almost always does the trick, but it probably won’t work tonight now that you’re only awake and breathing heavily from sheer annoyance. “That you adore me whenever I tell you how much I love it?”

“Jungkook,” you hiss, tempted to flick him on the forehead in his sleep repeatedly so he’ll wake up with a mark. “Will you let me put the snoring strip on you or do we divorce?”

“Divorce,” he sighs out, a pinch instantly placed on his thigh that makes him jolt and squeak anyway. Jungkook whines, correcting himself when your hand hovers his chest this time. “Divorcing is bad!”

“Mhmm. Good night, Kook.”

You vibrate just by the prospect of sleeping peacefully tonight without the walls in the house being shaken up by your husband’s snores, tucking yourself in with an exhale that could last for minutes.

“Mmh-hmm!”

Jungkook could only pathetically whine through the mouth strip, resigning to his fate as he just spoons you from behind and huffs.

“What’s that? You want to wear snoring strips every night?” you chuckle, going to sleep with a smile. “What a nice husband.”

( ♡ )

Every now and then, you and Jungkook have to take a refresher course on each other’s businesses. The both of you know a lot already, constant conversations about which meetings happened where and reminders for events that the other will clear up their schedule for.

There’s already the concern and the general knowledge — it’s just all in the technicalities (even the simplest ones) that the two of you are lacking on.

“Is this a mock neck or a crewneck?” Jungkook holds up a shirt that’s yet to be released, eyebrows raised as if waiting for you to mess up. Come to think of it, you have to know now because his family’s holding company had acquired yet another brand and there’ll be a televised event for it — and some reporters ask the stupidest questions to date. You can’t be the weakest link.

“I wanna say neither,” you clear your throat, biting your bottom lip in confusion. It’s a shirt with a collar and that’s the only thing that matters. You know there’s a name for it and there’s a possibility that the choices Jungkook gave you were all bluffs.

Your answer definitely seems to pique both Jungkook’s interest and amusement, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Elaborate.”

“It’s neither of the two. It’s uhm, in the middle?” you tilt your head, only praying that you could bullshit your explanation to your husband, the very person that created the garment. “It’s an all-new neckline created by Jeon Jungkook because that’s what his label is all about.”

Flattering, but really wrong.

“Cool,” he snickers, nodding to himself before he tosses it for you to catch. “It’s a crewneck though.”

“What? Then why did you make me elaborate?” you complain, scoffing to yourself because you know you should’ve went with that answer. Crewnecks should be easy enough to answer but for some reason (read: you stayed up last night watching new-money elitist reality shows instead of studying), you couldn’t answer.

“To see how good you can run away with your answer, duh.”

“And did I run away with it?”

“You ran away with it for like, four meters,” Jungkook commends you, the distance not all that bad in hindsight, atleast until he opens his mouth again. “There’s a hundred meters in total.”

Trivial things like quiz night on each other’s professions remind you that Jungkook’s nice to be with. Banter flows easily and he’s just so charming that so far, you haven’t deeply regretted a single day out of the two years you’ve been married.

You may not be able to name all the different fabrics, silhouettes, and techniques behind Jungkook’s very own streetwear brand, but you know that he likes being held when he’s asleep; that when he taps your thigh groggily after waking up in the middle of the night, it’s him very kindly asking you to rub circles on his back until he falls asleep.

“Okay, my turn!”

Your glass table almost shakes in excitement when you retrieve your sketches, making your husband all the more nervous because you look genuinely excited and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. He doesn’t have the room for error — your family’s jewelry brand turns 100 years old since the opening of its first shop and the event will be widely attended by everyone from all industries. Who’s to say that your eccentric grandfather won’t suddenly host a quizbee all about their craft?

You flash the paper quickly and your husband sighs in relief, grinning in confidence.

“Emerald cut, easy!” 

The confidence is quickly washed out from Jungkook because you snort, putting the paper down.

“It’s an octagon cut.”

“No it’s not,” he immediately retorts in disbelief, squinting at the sketch you’ve set down already.

“I sketched these,” you narrow your eyes. You forgot just how quick Jungkook can keep himself in denial. “Emerald cuts have more depth to them."

He succumbs just as quickly as he turned stubborn though, rolling his eyes with the internal reminder to touch up on his jewelry knowledge because your event comes before his.

“Fine, sue me for thinking your drawings have depth and dynamic to them.”

“You’re buttering me up.”

“Is it working?” Jungkook blinks owlishly, proud of himself when he sees the corner of your lips twitching. He holds his arm out to sling across your waist out of instinct, pleased in pink when you lean into him.

“Barely.”

Jungkook frowns, nosing into your hair with a huff. “Look who’s talking. You made up an all-new neckline by yourself.”

“Shh,” you hum. “Let me get away with it.”

These moments of domesticity are what remind you that Jungkook’s never been less than ideal for you. That despite being in the same social circle as kids and only starting off as friends, you weren’t hesitant when both your grandparents suggested the idea of getting the two of you married.

In trivial and domestic moments like these, you think that you would’ve wanted to marry Jungkook even if you weren’t arranged.

“I let you get away with a lot of things,” he playfully huffs, resting his chin on your shoulder intentionally heavy to get you to cave deeper into his embrace.

“Because I barely wrong you!” you reason, rolling your eyes because you know for a fact that although you’re not a perfect wife, you’re beyond ideal.

“I know,” Jungkook rolls his eyes this time, the truth undeniable. You’re right; you’re so perfect for him that sometimes, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you.  “How about me? Will you let me get away with a lot of things?”

“I already have,” you sing-song, narrowing your eyes playfully as if in deep warning. “But I won’t always do.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook first realized that you loved him when he missed a single step on the staircase and tumbled a whole flight.

It was 3 AM then, the reason behind his sudden trip downstairs being the fever you developed overnight when you had just gotten home from a ski trip. He had put a wet towel in the freezer in the afternoon and he was supposed to put it on you before you went to sleep. Jungkook must’ve beat himself up for forgetting because he wakes up with a cold sweat, determined to put that frozen towel on you like his life depended on it.

Jungkook thought he was doing well by the way he could navigate clearly even with the sleep in his system, eyes still half-lidded and brain still half-working that he decides to rip out the largest yawn to man mid-step on the staircase — before he knows it, he’s woken up immediately to the bottom of it.

“Jungkook!” you yelled to him then in a panic, eyes wide and frantic to see him at the bottom of the stairs with a sheepish smile. Jungkook knew then that seeing you with a head-splitting migraine visible on your pale lips and fatigued eyes, scooping him up on your arms with nothing but scolding and fussing on rotation — he knew that you loved him more than you let on.

You know Jungkook loves you. So when the bed dips and your arms grow cold despite swearing up and down that the both of you have a free day today, you doubt for a second.

“What are you doing up so early?” you mutter, stifling a yawn to see Jungkook up without a complaint.

“Breakfast with my parents. My crazy aunt suddenly came over and they need backup,” Jungkook answers with a pained laugh, cussing himself for being such a filial son. “Don’t worry, I know you hate her plus you were up all night yesterday so I just told them you can’t come because you’re under the weather.”

You’re put at ease to hear him, sighing a breath of relief — good, Jungkook still loves you and doesn’t plan to leave you. It’s just an inkling you’ve had the last few weeks, the daunting realization that in a couple months’ time, it’ll be three years of marriage with him.

It’s the impulsive, less rational part of your brain that thinks Jungkook’s growing bored of you, confused of how he’s been perfectly content being your husband for almost three whole years. 

You go with Jungkook all the way through downstairs, your playful teasing towards him about never yawning again on the steps giving him more amusement (and embarrassment) than necessary.

“Kook?” you question with a furrow in your brow, pointing at the dish that’s occupied still. “You forgot the car keys.”

“Oh. I’m not taking the car,” he smiles, shrugging to emphasize the jacket that he intentionally wore. You missed the detail somehow, the surprise in your voice more evident.

“You’re taking your motorbike?”

“Mhmm!” Jungkook hums pleasantly, the background music in his brain going from calm elevator music to rising bass rift. He’s just about to bid you goodbye with a kiss after he wears his gloves but he’s stopped even before he could come near. You’ve already read his mind.

Your husband knows it when you put your arms across your chest, nodding towards the cabinet with a tone that leaves no room for counterarguments.

“Go wear your full gear.”

“But the breakfast place isn’t even that far,” Jungkook whines, head tilting back. His gear was literally hot, protecting him from sunlight yet physically making him boil inside. 

“I want you in one piece.”

“You want me?” Jungkook cheekily grins, eyebrows wagging incessantly with his arms outstretched. That’s it! If he could just act cuter and be a little more-

“Go wear your gear.”

“I look goofy,” he mutters, eyes downcast. The longer he goes without blinking, the faster he knows that he’s going to stick to your words.

“You look safe,” you smile in success when you put his helmet on, securing it extra tightly that draws a whine from him.

Jungkook frowns but he knows that you’re right as always, a relieved sigh coursing throughout his whole body because who knew where he’d end up without you.

“Ride safe, Jungkook. I mean it. Don’t pull any tricks,” you glare pointedly at him, recounting all of the near misses he had from wanting to be adventurous, be it a trip downstairs to the refrigerator or in the middle of a main thoroughfare.

“I promise not to pull a wheelie on the highway, yes,” Jungkook mockingly salutes you, drawing out a faux disappointed sigh from you.

“You’re forgetting something.”

Was he really? Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, smacking his lips when he seems to get the gist of it. He walks towards you, puckering his lips to the max because he doesn’t want to headbutt you with a solid helmet for just a smooch, landing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

You appreciate it, but Jungkook’s not quite right.

“No, not that.”

“What?” he seems taken aback, suddenly realizing. “Oh!” he giggles, raising up his right hand in a pledge. “I promise to text you when I get there.”

“Good.”

You have to put more strength to drag Jungkook by the helmet, angling your head to the side to kiss so he doesn’t knock you in the forehead with the extremely safe (and extremely bulky) helmet you got him.

Jungkook smiles in contentment, clearing his throat as he revs his engine. It’s all good then. He had become worried in silence because your three years of marriage were approaching and got scared because what if you grew bored of him already?

Jungkook worries that he’ll mess things up with you one day, but with the way he can see you waving at him frantically on his side mirror when he just left, it’s okay. 

He knows you still love him.

( ♡ )

Hoseok’s your most talented and trusted metalsmith.

His work ethic’s unparalleled, your vision only coming into fruition through his support and skill. He’s indispensable to you, your place in the direction of your family’s business cemented by Hoseok’s aid.

Hoseok as both an artist and your employee is different from Hoseok as your friend. Both are cunning but the latter is more ruthless, the lines being blurred every now and then. He loves his job, don’t get him twisted at all — in fact, he trusts you as a boss and the company beyond comprehension that he doesn’t bear any tact for anyone who threatens either.

Not even for Jungkook.

“A collab, huh?” Hoseok squints, looking through the portfolio you’ve handed him. There’s already projected numbers that your analysts have predicted for you but he pays the papers no mind. He clicks his tongue, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. “A streetwear brand wants a limited-edition collection with us?”

Jungkook clears his throat, timidly raising his hand. He’s always known that Hoseok’s standoffish to literally everyone except you, but what he can’t take is being talked about like he isn’t in the same room.

“Uhm, I’m Y/N’s husband.”

“Well you’re the owner of that streetwear brand, aren’t you?” Hoseok raises a brow at him, tilting his head. He looks drastically bored, his tongue poking his cheek.

Jungkook blinks, not exactly knowing where this was going but he doesn’t like it one bit. “Yes, but I’m also her husband.”

“Okay?” Hoseok tilts his head, eyes already exhausted from the conversation. You know that look on him, the one that tells you he’s bored to death and is itching to shut up the nearest person to him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jungkook rarely gets flustered by anyone else besides you and this time, it’s the bad kind. The embarrassment he gets from just conversing with Hoseok makes him feel like he’s an inconvenience, unease settling into his stomach. Jungkook wishes he couldn’t be so perceptive to know that despite Hoseok’s eyes normally being unreadable, his gaze now on his sketches can be read as underwhelmed.

“Well I-I mean, I’m hearing a lot of us and it sounds like you and Y/N, not me and Y/N,” he licks his lips, recognizing the insecurity that sticks to his tone like honey. Not only does he feel insulted as an artist, he also feels insufficient as a husband.

“That is what I’m saying though,” Hoseok trails off, hand vaguely gesturing for Jungkook to fill in the rest of the blanks. When he doesn’t, Hoseok does it for him. “It’s me and Y/N seeing this brand through. Not you and her.”

Jungkook blinks once, twice.

Hoseok isn’t wrong. No matter how much pain it brings Jungkook to admit it, Hoseok isn’t wrong. Your marriage may be for you and him alone, but your company– your artistry is only yours as much as it’s Hoseok’s. He has no place here and he feels it, his initial confidence that the collaboration he proposed was going to pass already dwindling by the millisecond.

“Hoseok’s right,” you cough, breaking their conversation. The tension was already too thick and you’ve barely made it halfway to looking at the entirety of the portfolio. “Reel it in, Jungkook.”

He’s jealous. He’s jealous and he forgot just how pathetic and insufficient one could feel when the green monster of heartburn decides to make an appearance. Jungkook just about doubts everything, from thinking of how your admiration for Hoseok is probably much higher than the admiration you have for him, to thinking if you even benefit from being arranged to him.

Hoseok looks over the designs, noting all the details silently.

“Huh. I see,” he hums, clearing his throat to try and keep all the crass words he has in mind to himself because you’re looking at him intently. “Skulls. Haven’t seen this one before.”

“You sketched this?” Hoseok nods every now and then, holding up the paper that had deep indents of the pencil on the paper to the point that it defeats the concept of a sketch. Your husband nods, and he wishes he hadn’t because Hoseok comments not a second later. “Figures.”

He hums, silently approving here and there of some concepts he could totally get behind. It’s not all rubbish content, but he can’t say that salvageable automatically equates to commendable.

“So? What do you think, Hobi?” you ask when the silence has gone long enough, having noticed that Jungkook already grew too quiet in your corner.

Hoseok calculates in his brain, looking from the portfolio and back to you. He tries not to clench his jaw for the sake of you silently pleading him to mince his words and actions, clasping his hands together.

“Yeah, it’s doable,” he nods, making Jungkook smile despite his ego being a little wounded. He’s bounced back miraculously, profusely thanking Hoseok with an unexplained eagerness to him. Before Jungkook could launch himself to further possibilities though, Hoseok calls for you.

“Y/N? A word, please?”

Jungkook looks back from the door, hesitant doe eyes flitting between the two of you. You don’t know exactly what’s going through his mind but you know better than to project, bidding him goodbye for the timebeing. “It’ll be quick.”

The most commendable trait you can attribute to Hoseok besides being your friend is his passion for your craft. He’s vision-oriented in the sense that he cuts straight to the chase before he could even lose the trail that the sudden burst of fervor leaves him.

“Meridian’s your baby. It’s your grandmother’s grandmother’s baby. It’s coveted. It has meaning,” Hoseok rambles, the sigh leaving him more concerned than it was relieved at being let out. He can’t mince his words now — he can’t put it in any other way besides the truth. “Collaborating with Jungkook cheapens it.”

“Hoseok.”

Your tone edges on a bite, clenching your jaw as you try to take everything in. Hoseok’s been your voice of reason for so long but you don’t know how to accept that voice now, the tinge of guilt slowly staining you because the back of your mind tells you that he isn’t wrong.

Jungkook’s streetwear brand is huge; whether or not you chalk it up to his name being linked to his family’s holding company that’s responsible for other designer brands, your husband’s brand specifically remains larger than life. It’s not a flawless brand, that much you’re sure of, but it’s still of great value.

Just perhaps not of the same degree that Hoseok holds your company to.

“It’s not all bad, but most of his work is dispassionate. It’s typical. Meridian would look cheap if you commit to this fever dream collaboration.”

There’s a rash on your neck, one that’s warm and speaks to your ear of how shitty it must feel to even agree partially to what Hoseok’s saying. Your duties as an artist in the business rarely clash with your courtesies as Jungkook’s wife — today just happens to be one of those days.

“It’s Jungkook’s idea, okay?” you relent, voice low as if in defeat of admission. You don’t mean to belittle him, you just happen to know and listen to reason. “It’s not the best, I know, but it’s honest work. Let’s give him a chance.”

“You’re giving him a chance because he’s your husband, not because you see any potential.”

Hoseok says it without uttering nor a single sense of doubt. He sounds so definite that you don’t even know if he’s still insulting Jungkook or if he’s insulting you at this point, swallowing your words.

There’s truth to your craft but you know there’s an even bigger truth to the unspoken protectiveness you have over Jungkook, the answer sounding seemingly shallow but that’s what it really is — love makes you shallow as much as it makes you deep.

“You’ll know when you’re married.”

“Arranged would be the term for you and Jungkook. Not married,” Hoseok quips. “You’re only holding back your critique. We both know it’s a dead end when it comes to creative direction.”

The both of you leave it at that, the decision being unanimous to collaborate with Jungkook despite your metalsmith’s hesitance. What you say goes, that’s just how hierarchy works. 

Unbeknownst to you and Hoseok though, Jungkook’s been listening the whole time — that’s just how love operates sometimes; hidden and relinquished.

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s hurt.

How crude of Hoseok to think of him that way. How worse of you to agree even.

Jungkook’s irrational when he’s hurt, refusing to see reason. He knows at the back of his head that he’s hit a rut and pitching in a collaboration with your brand is his last-ditch attempt in sparking something. Cheap was a word for tackiness and to have your friend use it on him brings him to a new low.

It’s just jewelry. What you make is just jewelry. Just pieces of metal bended and soldered together with shiny gems that don’t possess any real meaning to them besides superficial.

It’s not that deep.

Not that deep to the point that when Hyejoo, his childhood friend turned actress turned fleeting appearance in his life every now and then (whom you hate for some reason), asks him for a favor — Jungkook barely hesitates.

Hyejoo stands before him in a shirt from his brand’s limited collection, one out of the only hundred ever made. If Jungkook recalls correctly, he didn’t even send any items from the limited collection to any of his friends; he left everyone besides you to go fend for themselves.

Perhaps his childhood friend’s truly a fan of his craft, knowing her for her utmost support towards all his releases. To be honest, the two of them aren’t even that close anymore to the point that they’re each other’s first friend to think of in dire circumstances, except now — now when she needs him for a favor.

“But I need a pink ring for the event, Jungkook!” Hyejoo whines, throwing her head back for dramatic effect. Truth be told, she knew no brand that had pink jewelry that was elegant enough for her taste except yours. She’s turned down sponsorships all for a ring you probably keep in your sock drawer. “Yes I can buy from other brands but you’re there, Kook. You’re available and I can borrow from you because your wife has a shit ton.”

Jungkook knows what Hyejoo’s talking about. It’s the one pink ring that you wore on your engagement party with him and it’s become the talk of everyone from how ethereal you looked, the one tiny piece of jewelry tying it all together.

He knows it’s pink and he knows it’s just hidden away in its jewelry box, one that you keep right next to his collection of watches. There was no fancy vault for it either, just tucked next to his timepieces as if they were of the same value.

“Come on, she won’t even notice,” Hyejoo urges him, making him inwardly cringe. She turned up on his front door unannounced asking for a favor and he feels indebted her for the last time she granted him one, the apartment complex that Hyejoo owned becoming the perfect backdrop to his collection that’s still renowned to this day.

Jungkook’s loyal, he knows he is. His loyalties lie with you and he still honors his debt — whether or not you’re caught in the middle. It’s true that you won’t even notice, you don’t even peek at it anyway! For someone who’s a part of a family of jewelers, you rarely accessorize yourself gaudily.

“Fine. I’ll let you borrow,” Jungkook mutters, finally relenting to Hyejoo’s requests. He opens the door wider, on the way to your shared bedroom but looks back hastily at Hyejoo to point a stern finger. “But give it back, okay?”

It takes a great amount of strength for Jungkook to even hand the ring to Hyejoo, not even including the box with her because a) you would know that it was missing, and b) he wants her to wear it at all times until she gives it back the next day. Jungkook takes it personally to flick her wrist to serve as a reminder that he had given it to her already, even going so far to take a picture of the two of them and make her sign on his notes app.

He’s not necessarily betraying you — or so he thinks. It was just jewelry that you wouldn’t miss, same as the shirts that he gives away to his friends. Their retail prices may be lightyears away but you would understand; you always do.

Jungkook gaslights himself into thinking that he did no wrong but the guilt is what slowly gnaws on him, the tips of his fingers going numb every time he looks at you. 

Come to think of it, his decision to lend your ring to Hyejoo was out of sheer pettiness even without the assurance that you’ll take notice of it. His hurt over Hoseok’s comment disappeared the moment he handed her your ring, but to his surprise, it’s anxiousness that replaces his irritation.

He kisses you good night still as if today didn’t happen; how his irrationality had gotten the best of him when he got hurt by Hoseok’s remarks over his passion and creativity, and just a few hours later, it’s his impulsiveness and misplaced urge for vindication that lent your unsuspecting ring to his childhood friend.

“Jungkook!” you yell out in panic, urging him awake instantly that his heart beats incessantly despite being pulled out of sleep. You look frantic, the rawness in your eyes not from your lack of sleep, but instead from tears. “Call 911. The Interpol! The CIA! The fucking Blue House!”

“What?! What happened?!”

He’s panicked just as you are, hands shakily clutching his phone. He looks you up and down and inspects you for injuries to which there are none, nothing but overwhelm making your body shake.

Jungkook can’t bear to see you so glum and helpless, your bottom lip trembling as you look at him feeling nothing but pathetic.

“My ring,” you whisper brokenly, the phantom feeling of wearing it making you sob even more. “My ring is gone.”

Jungkook’s mouth dries, the panic in his own body turning against himself, his remorse growing into something larger than life. He could physically see the confusion on your face on the way he paled, his phone dropping out of his hold.

Your husband’s hands reach for you but you don’t take them, recoiling even before he could open his mouth. Jungkook was readable — too readable to the point that you wish he had lied to your face instead.

“I-I can explain.”

Jungkook weakens by the knees when the words drape from the tip of his tongue, your chest sucking in an inhale so sharp that he gets weakened by the force of it. “I lent it to Hyejoo.”

You’re quiet, the type of rage in you simmering ever so slowly that it builds to an immense heat. You don’t know if you can ever muster to look at Jungkook in the eye, your middle finger that knows the grooves of your ring twitching in muscle memory.

“You what?” you croak, tilting your head. You know what you’ve heard but you just wish you’re mistaken this time, cursing your own accuracy. “Who told you that you could do that?” 

Jungkook’s cornered in his mind and he spews the first thing in his mind, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Yours is mine and mine is-…”

“That doesn’t apply here! You’re so fucking-…” you just about burst in the seams, clenching your jaw so hard to the point that you give yourself a headache. You’re resolute this way, the pitiful look on your husband’s face not getting a single drop of remorse from you. “Get it back.”

You wouldn’t have lent it to anyone regardless if Jungkook asked you, but you would have considered at the very least. For him to take something so special to you and loan it to someone you’re not even fond of ticks a wire in your brain, your anger coming before the sadness fully hits.

“Y/N!” he hisses, angry at both the situation and himself but he now thinks of the courtesy that he didn’t possess when Hyejoo borrowed your ring. “I can’t turn back on my word.”

“What? Your word that favors Hyejoo and shits on mine?” you scoff in disbelief, laughing at the mockery Jungkook makes of you. It’s insulting and saddening and you can’t even begin to think of the extensive cleaning and safekeeping you’ll have to do once you get your ring back. “I said, get it back. You’re my husband and you’re just her friend, you have all the means to take my ring back.”

Jungkook turns somber, a stark contrast to your anger. He pleads with you, finally closing the gap between you to which you roll your eyes.

“The event is tonight. She’ll return it tomorrow. Please, it’ll be embarrassing.”

“For you or for her?” you ask but the rage in your voice is already simmering, the daunting thoughts of how Jungkook thinks of his friend’s sake and himself first than his wife making you clench your fists around nothing.

“Y/N, please.”

His incessant begging does little to influence your decision because you’ve already changed your mind, the rage that dipped in you and the fact that your heart’s already aching despite having just woken up converting you instead.

“Tomorrow morning. I want it back in the case before I wake up.”

The two of you sleep apart for the night and Jungkook can’t even bring himself to contest it knowing that he doesn’t deserve to hold you. He simmers in self-loathing, unable to sleep the night when his phone dings from the notifications it has of your name.

Hyejoo’s look on the carpet trends the whole night, the main focus of everyone being the pink ring that adorns her ring finger. There’s threads of speculations how you and her are either best friends or how she must’ve bought it from you. If only he could, Jungkook would reply to each comment saying that Hyejoo doesn’t hold a candle to your elegance and how the ring has always been yours — that it’s his fault that his friend’s even wearing the same piece.

He’s restless and he can’t even begin to think how much more tired you feel. Of your name being brought up and of him royally fucking up. 

When Jungkook thinks it couldn’t be worse, karma one-ups him from the very mistake he committed when he entertained Hyejoo’s favor in his mind.

“You’re stupid,” you spit to Hyejoo who stands on your porch, head downturned in shame. She had half the decency to face you personally but lacks the rest to honor her end of the bargain; she lacks the intellect to respect you.

She lost the ring. She lost the pink ring you’ve treasured and cared for since you were a teenager, losing it after a careless and drunk decision of skinny dipping. You feel like you’ve been made a fool not only by your husband, but also by his friend that you don’t care for at all.

The tears fall out of your eyes in anger, each one being in a rush to exit because you’re full of resentment at this point.

“You’re a brainless, stupid, careless fucking idiot. I don’t want to see you in my household again,” you point at her, making her step back.

“This is Jungkook’s-…” she squeaks, just about to correct you when you point at her even more menacingly. You’re not even joking around as it seems like, eyes angry to the point that they lack of love, even for Jungkook who tries to hold you back.

“I’ll get a restraining order on you.”

Hyejoo scurries out all with the promise to reimburse you (as if she has the money to do so) that falls on deaf ears, your hand slamming the door too hard that your husband swears the walls shook with your force.

You look unrecognizable with the sheer disappointment you have for him, your anger dripping off of you thickly that he’s rendered speechless.

“You,” you seethe. “I fucking hate you.”

You never told him that before.

You’ve gotten mad at him on several occasions but never to this degree where you tell him that you loathe him. This is the furthest that you’ve took it, the honesty behind your words making his bottom lip tremble.

Jungkook’s eyes have been perpetually moist since last night but it’s only now that his eyes sting with white hot sadness. You’re only reacting out of your state of overwhelm; you must be, right?

“I hate you so, so much, Jungkook.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I really mean that,” you scoff to his face, shaking your head in absoluteness. “What would you do if I sold your car, huh?”

Jungkook wants to apologize to you so bad but he doesn’t have the right words to give you the proper one that you deserve. He gives you an answer off the top of his head, the disappointment for himself growing if he does otherwise.

“It’s just a car.”

“Well this is just not a fucking ring to me! It’s not simple like that!” you burst, your movements jerky.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he whispers, wanting to tug at his hair for being so stupid. He should’ve considered the possibility that Hyejoo has a knack for being careless; he failed to account that he went behind your back to lend your ring to someone else in the first place.

“I can buy my own rings!” you exclaim. “What you don’t get is that this means the world to me! If your uncle gave you a car, and I gave it to someone else and now it’s on the bottom of the ocean, what would you feel?”

“It’s just a car from my uncle. I can replace it. I can buy a better one.”

Jungkook knows he’s just making excuses. He’s just being defensive now that he’s cornered and has no excuse for behaving so poorly. He can’t escape the anger and the disappoint he’s flooded with, not when you cry out of sheer distress.

“Not if my aunt isn’t here! Not if this ring is one of the only things I have of her!”

Sure, your aunt was dodgy. She’s the black sheep of your family and had done more than a lot of questionable things, but she cared for you. She had given you her own ring when you were twelve and whilst it was too big for you to wear, she gave you a chain for you to wear it around your neck.

The ring is something you can easily replicate but the thought behind it is what you can’t take back. It’s not the only piece of her that you have but it’s one of the earliest things you obtained; one of the most notable pieces out of the bunch.

“You don’t think. You don’t care. You don’t love.” 

For Jungkook to carelessly seize it from you and loan it to someone else grips your heart like a vice. You’re gonna dwell on it for more than a couple of days and realize that you have more sentimental and elegant things you have of your aunt eventually — but what matters to you is how you feel now. How Jungkook had disappointed you so bad, you feel like throwing up.

“I want to divorce you,” you seethe, meaning your words at the heat of the moment. Jungkook stands frozen, hearing his own heartbeat thrum in his ears. “I can find a new husband. What I can’t find — what neither you nor Hyejoo can’t find is my ring.”

( ♡ )

You do it while he’s sleeping.

You take advantage of Jungkook’s fatigue and disorientation from crying his eyes out, passed out in the couch while he hugs himself with his arms to try and replicate your embrace. It’s already morning and it only looks like he slept just minutes ago, positively dozed off.

You take much care in slipping of the platinum wedding ring from his finger, joining your discarded one in your palm. There’s only carelessness when you scoop them into a tiny drawstring bag, taking it to Hoseok and doing a regular work day as if your head hadn’t pounded with hurt just last night.

It’s only convenient for the both of you; Jungkook’s decision slingshots back to him, and your client would be happy. Hoseok texted you last night asking if he should grant the request of a high-profile client with a titanium pendant, and it just so happens that you have two chunks of it that you no longer need. It could be melted and repurposed — after all, it’s just jewelry according to Jungkook.

The guilt of your impulsiveness doesn’t hit you instantly, it only comes with confusion when you see your husband in shambles.

When you come home, the whole house is upturned. Jungkook’s frantic, waking up to a hand that bears no wedding ring; no proof of you. His eyes glaze with relief briefly when he sees you, urging you to take in the situation fully.

“The police. The CIA! Interpol! MI6 — or is it MI7? Fuck, Mr. Bean’s movie was too good! Get the Blue House on the line!” he blubbers, looking back and forth the cushions of the couch and his hand. “My wedding ring!”

It’s perhaps a ballsy move made on your part, but you can’t guilt yourself into bearing the blame. You made your wedding rings and it only makes sense for you to get rid of them. The bands are symbolic, made and upheld with love for the last two years but in your haste of upset, you’ve given them away.

You perhaps regret it slightly, the fog in your brain lifting but only faintly. You’re still mad and disappointed at Jungkook, and perhaps you don’t mean the bit of divorcing him, but you do mean wholeheartedly the sentimentality you have behind all your jewelry.

The platinum in your ring finger just felt too heavy last night that you grew weary of it, not thinking twice when you removed yours and Jungkook’s. Even if the two of you make up and you don’t end up divorcing Jungkook, you wouldn’t want to wear the same ring that brought you the same pain during its stint.

“I sold them,” you answer, turning your back on him before you could see the anguish in his face. “We have no need for them.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s making you a rice bowl as an apology.

Buttered fried rice, egg, bacon, and all with a generous amount of cheese. It’s his hangover food when he needs something greasy and filling but the only difference from his past hangovers and your anger at him is the latter barely feels like it could be rectified.

He says his apologies again through the door and he’ll happily repeat it to your face if you stand longer in front of him for more than a minute, his panic even larger than the oil splashes he’s gotten from making your bacon eagerly.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It was stupid of me to lend your ring to Hyejoo behind your back and I swear I won’t do it again. I know that ring meant a lot to you and I-I was so pathetic by invalidating that,” he mutters through the door, looking at the frying pan every now and then to make sure he wasn’t burning anything. “I have every intention of finding your ring and making it up to you, cross my heart!”

It feels insulting, even. For him to think that he could change the ache of your heart with a simple hot meal. Jungkook realizes that he really is dense when you don’t answer the door for the twenty minutes that he knocks. When you do open up, he feels even more dumb.

Just twenty minutes ago, he wired you twice the amount of the worth you estimated your aunt’s ring to be. Combined with the pitiful amount Hyejoo wires you, it’s then do you realize that you’re not fazed by money. The initiative is there, sure, but the ache in your heart hasn’t subsided completely.

You do miss Jungkook. It does tug at your heartstrings to see and hear him beat himself up over and over again the more you realize that you’re attached to your aunt’s memories rather than the ring itself, but just two nights away from each other won’t absolve everything he’s done and failed to do.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your husband who tries far too hard for his own good. Melancholy isn’t a good look on him because he looks the most unkempt he’s ever appeared in two days than the two years you’ve been living with him under the same roof.

Jungkook waits for you to register his attempt, holding up a hot bowl with his bare hands that you resist the urge to take it from him for a second. His ring finger’s occupied by a cheap mood ring, rapidly turning red at the moment from the heat of the bowl.

You look down fully expecting to be swayed even just a little bit, but when you do, you feel the kick to just slam the door right back.

“I hate runny eggs,” you scowl. “Two years married and you don’t even know how I like my eggs cooked.”

Jungkook wants the ground to swallow him whole. 

He wishes that if it was true that chickens are the last true descendants of dinosaurs, there’d be a chicken the same size as them that pecks him into oblivion.

He hurriedly turns on the stove and scoops up the egg back into it, careful not to have any of the runny folk get on your meal. He itches in frustration, his ring finger that’s temporarily adorned with a cheap and clunky mood ring being accurate by turning blue in sadness.

Jungkook’s so out of it, so disappointed in himself that he doesn’t notice he cooks the egg until it’s burnt, the char of it reflecting how poorly he thinks of himself now.

It’s like when you were disappointed in him that time when his outlandish aunt made a rude comment about you and you were speechless the whole night that he stayed silent. He remedied it by later groveling at your feet and marching to his aunt and laying out all of his intentions for her to grow up and apologize to you, the same aunt that’s now blacklisted from all the gatherings.

It’s like when you were upset at him when he left abruptly in the morning and didn’t tell you where he was going because he didn’t know if you would care, partying it up in a different country for his friend’s bachelor’s party and coming home a day later with you hot on his heels. Jungkook made it up to you by once again apologizing profusely and updating you on his whereabouts since then (sometimes he gives too much information), always making it a point to bring two powerbanks with him so he can text you when he’s left and arrived.

This time though, he doesn’t know how exactly to make it up to you. He’s been in contact with professional divers to try and look for the ring for you, but he can’t be of much help until he comes along to know for sure. He’s thinking of all these different ways and approaches but he’s unsure if any of them are sufficient enough to rectify his mistake.

Jungkook feels pathetic because he swears he loves you and knows everything about you, but here he is — crying about how he doesn’t even know how you like your eggs cooked.

You’re upset at him, and he can’t do anything right for you.

( ♡ )

Jungkook tries again at dinner.

It’s the day of Meridian’s 100th anniversary and the two of you play it up for the cameras, your husband’s attention on you so keen and affectionate that you almost forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

He takes advantage of the cameras during the carpet session, tugging you close with his hand on your waist as he seizes the chance to hug you tightly at the end when you enter the hall with no cameras in place. He breathes you in as he always does, hesitant to let you go and exhale because you’re the very scent and existence of love.

Jungkook studied, of course he did. He’s touched up on his jewelry knowledge because he’s more than desperate now to seek your validation, nervously smiling all around as he waits for people to stop approaching you in your table.

His attention’s fixed on your necklace, the stone on it similar to the very ring he lent and lost. He’s brought it up about five times already, animatedly reciting trivia about it as if you’re not the literal face of the jewelry industry. He clears his throat, leaning in for you to whisper intimately, but just loud enough for the other people to hear a tad. 

“Ah, that pink sapphire looks so good on you, babe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter sharply, making Jungkook’s heart skip a beat. You melted against him when he was hugging you, that much he was sure of. He doesn’t know why you’ve become harsh again all of a sudden, forgetting that his lapse this time was opening his mouth. “Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” his brows furrow, swallowing the lump on his throat. “Pink?” he guesses, eyes wavering as he tests the waters. “Pink sapphire?”

It takes a lot in you not to make an outburst. Truth be told, you’ve started easing up on Jungkook but his attempts at trying hard is just too much and in the wrong direction, hearing pink sapphire over and over again reminding you of the ring you lost.

“Yes, that! Stop talking.”

“But I did my homework! Of course I’m not gonna stop talking,” he defends himself, the nervousness rising to his throat like bile. God, what if he did the wrong homework? What if he’s missed the assignment all along?

“Clearly you didn’t try hard enough because you’re wrong, Jungkook. This isn’t a pink sapphire — this is a pink diamond.”

Jungkook’s brain stops functioning for a solid five seconds, his mouth drying. The only proof that he was still breathing is his big eyes threatening to water.

“And so is my ring that you gave to your friend without asking me,” you add.

“What?!” he sputters in disbelief, recounting to all the other times he named the gem in multiple occasions even before today. “B-but I said it so many times before! You didn’t even correct me!”

“I didn’t correct you because you looked so proud of yourself!” you exclaim, surrendering with a sigh. Pink sapphire was the first gem that Jungkook had managed to name in your trivia night on the first month of your marriage, his avidness on getting it “right” so contagious that you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Pink sapphire is dirt cheap compared to pink diamonds, Jungkook! You just keep saying sapphire over and over again because it’s your birthstone,” you mumble, looking around to see if there were any people growing nosy at your conversation. “I let you say it over and over again to the point that I wore them instead of diamonds because you just can’t shut up about them,” you grit. 

This is the only time you reference your sentiment with the jewelry itself in words, your last profession of your disappointment in him being the removal of your wedding bands.

 “That’s the thing with you — you can’t tell. This isn’t just about emerald o-or octagon cuts, Jungkook. This is our marriage and you gave a girl that I don’t like my ring that meant so much to me! Now you can’t get it back.”

Jungkook’s speechless, holding back tears. You fear you’ll cry yourself when you look at his round, pleading eyes so you don’t, squeezing in the last word even if he always lets you have it.

“And now I’m correcting you because you’re embarrassing me. Now please, lay off with the gem terms.”

( ♡ )

Things have been tame between you and Jungkook.

You’ve aired out your grievances and Jungkook’s still trying hard as always, perplexing you because he hasn’t gone restless. It’s progressively warmer between the two of you but it’s nowhere near to what the two of you used to be, the air between the two of you going static that you’ve utilized it for your own.

It’s just a quick getaway for the day, hopping aboard a yacht with the intention of giving yourself a break. You’ve reflected enough but not alone with yourself, the period of space with Jungkook being much-needed.

Until you’re mistaken of course.

You think your mind’s playing tricks on you when the boat rocks more than it would with waves, but the all too familiar figure coming into your vision turns out to be real. It’s Jungkook in the flesh, wearing his scuba suit and gear.

It’s a pure coincidence that is. All Jungkook knew was that you were going on a yacht today and you didn’t specify where; meanwhile, all you knew was that he was going to be scuba diving, but he didn’t specify where either.

It’s purely kismet but your bodyguard Taehyung doesn’t seem to think so, legitimately thinking it was a pirate instead of your husband so he repeatedly smacks him with an oar until you stop him.

“Jungkook!” you call out, getting your bodyguard to stop. Atleast he has the decency to look sheepish, but he was genuinely concerned! He thought you were being hijacked by someone dressed in the most unassuming scuba suit, holding a plastic bag in his hands.

Your husband barely winces from the pain because he’s high from all the adrenaline, chest rising rapidly in succession. “Y/N, baby, I — hold on, I’m gonna, wait-…”

He looks tired still but there’s a light to him, either his radiance has come back or it was just the sun behind him but either way, it was nice to look at Jungkook who isn’t groveling at your feet for once.

He finally catches his breath, standing up to his full height as he tries not to ramble his words.

“I bought all the fish.”

“You did what?” your eyes widen, pathetically looking at the vast ocean around you. Perhaps you’re so startled (and amused) by Jungkook’s sudden and silly appearance that you forgot to apply common sense, just as breathless as he is.

“Okay maybe not all, but I did buy a lot of fish,” he concedes, nodding incessantly. He’s too excited that he can’t contain himself, even more-so when you finally look at him without disdain staining your features.

“For what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jungkook smiles, never having been more proud retelling you his previous failure.

“Your favorite seafood restaurant? I bought them their stock, provided that they’ll open up every last fish in there to see if they had your ring,” he shrugs as if it’s a common thought process to abide by, later shaking his head. “They don’t.”

If there’s just one trait that Jungkook had to be known with by everyone, it would be his persistence.

Jeon Jungkook is endearingly, cloyingly, and annoyingly persistent with the things he desires and the things he’s passionate about. You’re his wife — you’re his every last desire and passion. He had wronged you fresh from a week and some days ago but that timeframe has already given him ample time to fully redeem himself.

He can’t undo what he did. He can’t reverse the time he lent his wife’s ring to his friend who loses it not a full day later. Jungkook can’t take back any of the things he did but what he can do is be dedicatedly persistent in correcting himself.

He’s tanner, his muscles are bulged and straining, and his skin’s itchy with all the salt but he takes all of these things in stride — he’s become a better person through persistence.

“I also tried snorkeling for a week and I still couldn’t find it,” he trails, biting his bottom lip while he clasps his hands behind his back. “But I tried again today.”

It’s either relief or endearment that fills your face full, but nonetheless, the light that Jungkook sees from you lulls him to the comfort and warmth he’s been yearning from you for the past week. His eyes are strained and his body feels itself moving in waves as if he was still underwater, but he just closes his eyes to savor the moment.

You bound to him to put him in an embrace, your husband instantly melting in your hold. It’s either all the salt in his eyes or it’s just the realization that you’ve finally forgiven him and it’s all the love he feels for you, but either way, you hold Jungkook tighter.

“I found your ring.”

( ♡ )

You don’t know when Jungkook first loved you.

You can’t pinpoint an exact moment when Jungkook started acting differently towards you because he’s always been the same way from day one, the same qualities that make him both annoying and endearing having been there from the start.

You could always ask but you can’t bring yourself to. It shouldn’t bother you at the end of the day because the important thing is that Jungkook loves you. He loves without reservations, the pinnacle of his love language being his patheticness in trying hard.

Jeon Jungkook may try hard for everyone, but he tries the most for you.

He wakes up early and you only realize his absence when you turn to pat the warm space he’s supposedly left behind, making you rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

You wonder for a second that if Jungkook left the bed early and is quiet at the moment, he’s probably at the bottom of the staircase again because he yawned while going down. There’s no schedule today for either of you and you aren’t sick for him to make any sudden trips downstairs, his absence making you wonder this time.

There’s clanging coming from the garage, piquing your interest largely. There sits Jungkook wearing less safety gear that you’d like, blocks and blocks of wood surrounding him.

Your husband looks up, unassuming as usual while he breaks out into a grin.

“I’m making furniture for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” you snort, recounting all of the pieces you’ve acquired from your friend who’s an expert on woodcarving. Jungkook seems to know this too but he’s insistent, shaking his head eagerly.

His eyeglasses (his prescription ones instead of the actual safety ones) fog up from both his sweat and the few tears he’s shed out of frustration, taking them out so you could see the passion in his eyes. The passion’s definitely there, dampening his eyelashes and even tinting his eyelids pink.

“No, I’ll paint it up real good and it’ll blend it to your aesthetic.”

“Besides that, Jungkook,” you warn, coming down to squat on the space beside him. “You’re not good with tools.”

“Not good at them like Hoseok?” he questions, raising his brow. He’s frustrated and cranky and he just compared his (eager yet improper) use of large power tools compared to Hoseok’s expertise in using much, much smaller tools. Jungkook’s sweaty from all the effort, vaguely gesturing to the item in front of him. “Please, can Hoseok do it like me?” 

Your husband points to the lopsided bench (?) slash coffee table (?) slash abstract piece (?)  in front of you whose message is that they’re tired, only the scoopers for faux blood missing. It’s quite the spectacle. Not necessarily a statement piece because it raises more questions than any resolute takeaways at all.

“No, not really,” you joke around, winking to get the joke across your husband’s skull who sometimes reads between the lines too literally. “He can do it much, much better than you.”

“I’m trying to be romantic!” Jungkook whines with no real harm. “Go ahead, why don’t you divorce me and marry him because he’s so good with using a hammer?” 

The two of you were back; the same playfulness and warmth rekindling, if not stronger. Some things were just too strong to grow out of, such as Jungkook’s double takes when it comes to another name being linked to you.

He’s just making sure, still as desperate to gain your validation even before the ring incident took place.

“That was… a joke if you couldn’t tell,” Jungkook laughs robotically, eyes narrowing and widening at you every two seconds. “I’m just kidding. You knew that. You wouldn’t do that… right?”

You wouldn’t.

He knows that you love him. He had known it during his state of vulnerability and he knows it now even in a state of security. He knows it even without a wedding ring, your promise of making new ones for the both of you remaining in his mind.

The downfall of Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t be his persistence that also bears the ability to be his uprising, it was never that. Jungkook’s downfall would only be the loss of you and it’s the only absence that he can’t risk.

Your husband tries so hard that it brings you secondhand embarrassment at times, his mishap with the pink sapphire cementing in your mind just how much of himself he dedicates to you, even with lapses along the way.

Jungkook tries so hard that he ends the day with splinters on his hand and his sinuses clogged with far too much dust. His effort doesn’t always equate to the best but he gives what he always has when you’re in the equation.

It’s a wooden box for your rings, a shallow heart with your initials carved on the inside. It’s smooth even without the varnish, a stark contrast to his hands that are all rough from doing all the labor.

“I can’t give you jewelry that you already have.”

Jungkook admits to you whole-heartedly, sitting at the end of the bed while he watches you admire the box in your vanity.

“But I can make shirts for you. Stitch up your name real nicely on my chest pocket,” he offers, the smile on his lips growing. “I can make furniture for you,” he shrugs, chuckling at himself. “I can’t guarantee that it’s usable but I can make furniture a little.”

You smile so warmly that Jungkook forgets all of the little pains, melting away his fatigue. If you could put all the love you have for Jungkook in a single space, even the mansion the two of you reside in won’t be enough.

“Cooking too. I can also cook a-and make perfect rice and I promise to remember how you like your eggs in the morning.”

Jungkook knows it to heart by now, even without the reminder he’s written himself pasted on the counter. Your eyes were just so glossy and moist that Jungkook can’t help but to spring to your side, patting them dry with his shirt.

Your husband wipes away your tears even before they could form and it pushes them out further, the voice in your throat dwindling. It’s the cheap and rusting mood ring on his ring finger that gets you to sob, seeing the faint green outline that it leaves.

He takes notice of your observation, understanding that jewelry means much  more to you that he could comprehend which is why he’s quick to remedy your thoughts.

“I can always get tattoos of you if that’s what you want,” he continues, smiling sheepishly. “Actually, that’s what I want.”

Jungkook takes off his ring and it forces you to blink away your tears, lips parting open when it clicks.

It’s your initials on Jungkook’s ring finger, recognizing it as your own handwriting. 

You’re filled with a great amount of gratitude that runs even deeper than the ink on Jungkook’s skin, making you sniffle and it gets him to bury your face against his chest while he shushes you.

“Why would you get that?”

It belatedly hits you that since you took your wedding bands, your husband’s left ring finger had not been vacant since. 

“Because you sold our rings,” Jungkook shrugs, the look of ease on his face evident. “You sold them but we’re still married to each other,” he gently kisses your temple, letting you hold his hand to look at the tattoo closer. “We’re married. I still want people to know that I’m married to you.”

“Well,” you clear your throat, distraught with your emotions. “Your mood ring says you’re sad.”

“Passionate would be the term,” he sniffles, transferring the cheap ring to your finger. He giggles when it changes colors immediately, the timing of the situation being impeccable. “Okay now my ring says you’re happy.”

“Are you?” he asks whilst laughing but the both of you know it bears a weight.

“I am,” you answer just as seriously. “We’re okay, Jungkook. I forgive you.”

If you ask Jungkook what would his greatest joy and his greatest pain be, both answers would be you.

“Is your tattoo artist still around?” you ask while he puts you close to his chest, snapping him out of his trance.

“What for?”

“I think I want to match your permanent ring.”

“Are you real?” he mutters to himself, questioning your existence that he still isn’t sure if he deserves to have and love for the rest of his life. “Are you really real? You exist?”

“Yeah, he’s still around but I’d rather do it on you myself,” Jungkook answers eventually, returning the question. “Is that okay? Let me learn for a few months and I’ll tattoo my initials on you myself?”

You furrow your brows, not a single doubt placed on you if your husband was the one to tattoo you. “Yeah, but is that okay with you? You’re the only one who’s gonna have me on you for a couple more months. I can’t reciprocate because you want to ink me yourself.”

Jungkook only smiles, the warmth enough to outshine the sun.

“That’s not new to me,” he reassures you. “I loved you even before I married you.”

[theharrowing]

Why are you stopping?

Just another day in the life of Jungkook and baby squirt.

🤍 What, now? Jungkook x Female Reader

🤍 word count: ≈ 535

🤍 established relationship, pwp, smut, nsfw, 18+

🤍 warnings: this is literally porn without plot - that's the warning (vaginal sex from behind and mention of riding, wrists held behind back); this universe Jungkook has dominant vibes in general and there is some of that in here; plus we get a little of baby squirt's bossiness; Jungkookie also has his dick pierced!!!

🤍 notes: smut starts immediately! enjoy!

🤍 written for the Harrow's Holiday Cheer Event, requested by @here4kpopfics 🎈 i love you, my baby Kelly!!! thank you for being such a good friend in person and online!!! i hope you know that i wrote this shit so fucking fast lmao. like, the night you submitted the request. i did change the wording of the prompt a little hehe. i hope you enjoyyy!!!

🤍 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 posted dec. 2023

The slap of skin against skin is atrocious. Pornographic. Breathtaking. 

You attempt to praise Jeongguk, but your face is buried in the pillow, and he presses against the center of your shoulders with one hand while his other holds your wrists behind your back, muffling all sound and creating a pocket of hot breath that makes your face sweat. 

It is not your finest moment, but Jeongguk's thick, pierced cock is enough to convince you to become scrunched into even the most precarious of positions. So you babble and mutter senselessly, threatening to choke on your favorite floral pillowcase but willing to accept your fate. This is, after all, a fine way to die. 

Thankfully Jeongguk switches positions so often you do not have a chance to suffocate, and he not only lets up on your shoulders, he lifts them, continuing his quick, punishing pace while pulling you up to your knees and forcing you to sit tall. You allow him to move you as he pleases, your hands dangling and fingers grazing your thighs while your back bows and his hands slide to hold you in place, one against your hip and the other on your throat.

"F-f-uck," you manage to stammer, eyes fluttering closed as Jeongguk spears you open mercilessly.

He has the audacity to ask, "You like that, baby? Like the way I pound this tight pussy?" right next to your ear, hot breath warming your skin. 

"So g-good," you respond as you reach between your legs and lazily circle your clit with your fingertips, feeling pleasure burst white hot. "Fuck, Jeongguk…you make me f-feel so good."

With a deep, eager groan, Jeongguk fucks you harder, causing the soft skin of your ass and thighs to ripple with each slam of his hips. Jeongguk applies a hint of pressure against your throat and that is all it takes for the floodgates to open.

Your voice is broken and raw as you moan and sob, begging Jeongguk not to stop while your entire body trembles and tingles. As Jeongguk fucks you through your orgasm, you feel yourself slipping into an out-of-body trance. But then his hips slow nearly to a halt, causing every nerve in your body to begin to panic.

Desperate, you ask, "Why are you stopping?"

Jeongguk chuckles and loosens his grip on your throat, cock adored with metal dragging slowly past your walls. "Sorry, baby squirt. You sounded so fucking good and I guess I had a moment."

Feeling petulance rise, you wiggle out of Jeongguk's grasp and pull his dick from inside you, grumbling, "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself," before pointing to the headboard and saying, "Sit. It's my turn to fuck you."

Jeongguk laughs again, then begins to crawl to where you want him, moving the pillows out of his way and taking his place against the headboard. He looks dreadfully pretty with a dopey smirk, his long hair messy and wavy and framing his face, his cheeks flushed, and his body covered in a sheen of sweat. You get onto your hands and knees and begin to crawl as soon as he taps his thighs and says, "I'm all yours, baby."

ugh, these drabbles are already a lot of fun and it has been nice to just get some bursts of energy out without stressing over a whole oneshot or chapter.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD IF THIS HELLSITE AND LIKES ARE SUPER APPRECIATED TOO!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

🎈 tag list: @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 🤍 want to be tagged in everything i write? or just my member x reader content? send me a message!

🎈 check out more drabbles from the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event!

Say Please is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. reposts and translations are not allowed.

[persphonesorchid]

Tasting Jealousy - KSJ

Summary: Seokjin is more than happy to accompany you to your company's New Year's Eve party, he's not happy however, that your co-worker is trying to flirt with you. The presence of this man brings up feelings Seokjin thought he left behind him.

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: COH!au, Cupid!Seokjin x F!Reader, fluff, smut...angst 😀

Warnings: Jealous jinnie, smut (Protected sex bcus Seokjin ain't looking to be a daddy for the new year. Soft Dom jinnie, fingering, kitty spanking - you'll see what I mean lmao.) Jin gets very sad at one point and it gave me flashbacks of a universe in which he left ���

Masterlist - HERE

Notes: Happy New year my darlings!! I hope this year brings you lots of joy, love and peace!! Be good to yourselves!!

Now, I love this couple so much and I just can't get away from them ajsjhsha so here you go, my last fic for the year! And guess what? You guys will finally get to know who sent MC the flower arrangements. I know a lot of you were wondering lmao. I hope to write more drabbles for these two...even though is can't be considered a drabble because it got way out of hand 😭 but! I'm not complaining! I hope you guys enjoy!!

this follows Cupid's on Holiday's What If drabble Picking Peonies

“Ranunculus.” The word is a hissed breath between Seokjin’s teeth, eyes narrowing into slits. There’s a muscle twitching just under his eye, and he should be careful. If he grips the champagne flute any tighter the fine glass will shatter.

You pause in the middle of your sentence, fingers brushing his as you take the glass he offers, head turning and tilting back a little to look up at him.

The chatter of the party populous and the soft crackle of Christmas jingles fades into background noise against the rising ring in his ears.

The man who stands across from you both must’ve been raised without manners, that or at least a little common sense. He stands tall, a inch or so shorter than Seokjin if he were to guess. They’re unintentionally matching, both wearing black turtleneck sweaters. Though, Seokjin’s coat is tweed and brushes his knees, the man’s is dark grey and stops where his hands are tucked into the pockets of his black slacks.

Its been about a minute since Seokjin went off to get you both something to drink. A minute since he spotted this man through the crowd and just knew.

It’s been about a minute since he’s walked over here, weaved his way through the crowd with a wide boxy smile and a wave in your direction. A minute of his eyes trailing over your form, lingering over the way the peach fabric accentuates your waist and flutters at your feet in soft waves. A minute since he’d leaned in with a smile and kissed both your cheeks.

A minute of him pretending Seokjin isn’t standing right here, like your arm isn’t linked with his.

Six minutes. Not like Seokjin is counting or anything.

Something burns hot in the back of Seokjin’s mind when you giggle around the syllables that make up this man’s name. You’re smiling at something he said a second ago, but Seokjin is so far in his head he didn’t hear. It’s the kind of smile you give him when he brings you your favourite treat; your cheeks puffing up and squishing your eyes. He doesn’t know if the guy’s actually funny or if you’re only smiling at him to not seem rude.

“This is Seokjin.” You say, and briefly, you look up at him, smile unmoving. There’s a pinch to your brow, probably still wondering what the meaning behind his word earlier was. A bit of pride blooms in his chest with the way you wonder; you’ve long forgotten where his distaste stems.

Seokjin dips his head in greeting when, the man – Taehyung – finally looks over at him. He extends a hand, overhead lights of the venue catching on the face of his watch that Seokjin knows is expensive. He knows because it matches his.

Seokjin shakes his hand firmly, even as Taehyung’s eyes meet yours again with a smile that seems a little more strained and a lot less boxy.

“Strong grip you’ve got there.” Taehyung's chuckle is deep as his hand falls back to his side and Seokjin only hums. “Friend of yours?”

There’s nothing in his tone that gives reason for the feeling that floods Seokjin’s chest. It rises quickly from his feet and burns the back of his neck and ears and he bristles.

“Partner, actually.” There’s an edge to his voice that he knows you’ve caught; you squeeze his arm a little.

“Ah, partner... That’s nice, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

There’s no way he couldn’t have known.

He’s not in your department, Seokjin knows. This encounter would’ve happened a whole lot sooner had he been. Seokjin had been about your work place many times over this year alone, sometimes for no particular reason. Everyone in your department knows him by now.

Office gossip spreads like a flame in a dry grass field, so it isn’t that he hadn’t known, the man just chose to blatantly ignore it.

Something about that sets Seokjin’s teeth on edge.

“Ah, well, I’m pretty private so that’s fine.” You wave your other hand, the motion careful as not to spill the champagne that sits in it.

You and Taehyung make small talk, and Seokjin drowns in the feeling that’s swimming around his head. You ask him about how his birthday went and Taehyung says it could’ve been better. And there’s a twinkle in his eyes that Seokjin doesn’t like when he says it.

Taehyung smiles, after a while of Seokjin just staring him down. “Well...all my best for the new year.” He says, the curls of his dark hair sways on his forehead when he looks to Seokjin again. “Nice meeting you.”

And like that, he was gone, back through the crowd to linger when he’d came from.

Seokjin feels you shift, and when he looks at you, you’re already watching him.

“What was that about?” you ask, a brow raised.

“What?” Seokjin raises a brow back and you sigh, tapping at his arm with hand that was looped around it.

“Jin...” You say nothing more and Seokjin busies himself with draining the rest of the champagne in his glass. He sets it down on a nearby table and you do the same, unlinking your arm from his to stand in front of him.

“Do you want to leave?” you ask softly.

“We’ve only been here two hours.” Seokjin replies, shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer my question. And besides it wouldn’t be any fun if you’re gonna be like...that for the rest of the night.”

“I’m not being like anything.” His voice is a little harsh, and Seokjin isn’t sure if it’s because he’s being called out. He sighs, brows pinching. “It’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to you if we leave now.”

“I don’t mind, that’s why I asked. If you don’t want to stay that’s okay.”

“Why’re you so stubborn? Stop pushing it.”

You step away from him, eyes rolling as you step past.

“Where are you going?” Seokjin calls, turning as you walk, following the motion of your body with his.

“The bathroom.” You snap and Seokjin stares until you disappear into the throng of people.

There’s a low whistle behind him and Seokjin slowly turns, hackles raised again.

Taehyung is back. Barely seems to be paying him mind as he fills a plate with finger food and snacks. The long rectangular table is tucked into a corner, laden with different types of foods. He’s a bit away, but Seokjin’s certain he heard the exchange if the little smile he donned was anything to go by.

“Trouble in paradise?” He nods with his chin in the direction you stomped off to, picking a mini sandwich off his plate.

“Just a small fire. Containable. Although, I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.” If Seokjin’s eyes could narrow any further, he’d close them.

Taehyung lifts his shoulder in a shrug, “Just worrying, she’s my friend after all. Would hate to see her not have a good time.”

“Right.” Seokjin says, and then takes a breath. He doesn’t have to entertain this. He turns on his heel, walking through the crowd towards the bathrooms.

He finds you just coming out, pulling the lace of your sleeves back down to your wrists. He takes your hand, “We’re leaving.”

“Okay.”

You follow without complaint or question. Once outside, Seokjin gives you his coat because he doesn’t need it, a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to where he parked. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you and waits until you’re situated before going around and getting in.

He turns the heat on, and the drive is silent.

After a moment of your eyes burning into the side of his head, you finally speak: “Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Seokjin tries to keep the edge out his tone because there’s no reason to snap at you.

You still catch it, and Seokjin sighs when you go quiet. His teeth aches when he clenches his jaw, grip tight on the steering wheel. It wasn’t long before he’s pulling into the parking lot of the apartment and you’re out the car first.

The way up to your apartment is silent, and it continues until you’re both inside, taking your shoes off at the door.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

Seokjin feels guilt knot his stomach as you stare at him, a patient look on your face.

“I’m sorry. It’s just...”

There was still a lot of things Seokjin was getting used to. It’s been a year since he decided to break every rule set for him and stay with you. There are times when he’s blissfully unaware of it. When he’s tucked it into the far reaches of his mind in a box under lock and key and it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes though, like now, it rattles along the inside of his head, bouncing off corners.

Taehyung is the one who sent you that horrid floral arrangement on valentines day. It had long stopped irritating him whenever thought about it. The initial jealousy had come and crested like a wave and was gone then. Now it crashes in like a tsunami.

It’s not just jealousy he feels, but a strange sense of being lost. Like he’s walking through a fog with a blindfold. He’s aware of what he did, when he decided to turn his back on his duty and be selfish. He knows well there are some things he can’t ever give you.

A normal, happy life is one of them.

He can give you whatever you ask for, anything you want it’s yours without question. But what happens later? Years down the road and you’re married to him and he can’t give you the one thing you’ll want then.

The person meant for you could give that to you.

He’s being selfish. You’ve never complained, but Seokjin knows you must’ve wondered about it by now. The what if. Maybe...perhaps it would've been better if he'd followed through with leaving then...

“Jin?” you call softly, ducking your head a bit to meet his gaze, “Talk to me, what is it?”

“Do you regret it?” His voice is just as soft, looking down at his feet. He looks up, somewhere above your head, sighing, “Do you know that he’s the one who sent you those flowers?”

You seem confused for a moment, and then recollection lights in your eyes. “Oh! Oh...Jin.” you chuckle a bit and step closer.

“Don’t laugh, it’s not funny.” Seokjin groans, and meets you halfway when you reach for him. Your fingers dance at the nape of his neck and Seokjin pulls you closer by the waist.

“Is that what was bothering you?”

He can only hum, and you chuckle again. The warmth of your hand rubs circles against his back and he feels that warmth seep into his bones and settle there.

“I don’t regret anything. None of it.” You murmur against his neck, and Seokjin pulls away, cupping your cheek with a hand. His thumb gently caresses, and he meets your eyes for the first time in a while and calls your name softly.

“There are things that I can’t give you.”

“So?”

There’s a fierce look in your eyes that makes Seokjin wrap his next set of words up neatly and swallow them.

“None of that matters. You’re more than enough.”

Seokjin closes the gap between you both, pressing his lips firmly to yours. The arm at your waist pulls you close and the hand that sits at the side of your neck tails into your hair to tug at the many pins that you’d secured it with.

He spins you with practiced ease, pressing your back against the wall of the entryway and crowding your space.

He places a kiss at the corner of your mouth just to tease, and chuckles when you chase. His kisses trail along your jaw, stopping just below your ear, and he takes the lobe between his teeth.

The little sound you make shoots down his spine, and he feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater. He taps at your waist, his hand trailing over the curve of your ass and he gives you a moment to settle your arms securely around his neck before he lifts.

He doesn’t need to see where he’s going to find his way to your bedroom, and he busies himself with kissing and marking the skin he could reach. The fingers of his other hand finding the zipper at the back of your dress to tug down.

He sets you on your feet, pulling back just enough to help you out of your dress, his eyes still closed as he trails his lips over your collarbone, pushing the fabric off your body until it pools at your feet. Your skin is warm where he touches, he ghosts his fingers along your sides and revels the way you visibly shiver.

The bralette you chose for the night is lace and hides nothing from his hooded gaze, your nipples taut from the chill and his caress. He thumbs at the peaks, and when you tug on the hem of his sweater, he tuts at your impatience.

His hand slides up your back, unclasping the bralette and pushing you gently back until you hit the bed. The straps slide down your arms and he tugs it off, palming at a breast with a groan trapped behind his teeth.

“Jin..” you sigh his name and Seokjin hums, tilting his head at you.

He leans into you and you fall back. Seokjin holds his weight on his hands just above tour shoulders, and his knees trapping your thighs between them. He watches you blink up at him with some confusion as he simply stares.

“Let me ask you something.” He says, and then he shift, getting onto the bed and sitting with his back against the headboard. He curls his fingers at you, and with a bit of uncertainty tinting your form you follow. He settles you between his spread legs, pressing a kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder as he traces patterns against the skin of your thighs.

He spreads you legs with a gentle hand, bringing his legs up a bit so that the back of your knees hooks against his thigh. Seokjin brings his hand down quickly, the lace of your underwear does nothing to shield you from it and he chuckles when your surprised whine meets his ears. He feels you trying to snap your legs shut as the sting of his hand runs through you, the way your back arches away from his chest.

“Tell me, sweet girl.” Seokjin coos, and he decides to be nice, rubbing soothing circles against your lace covered pussy. He could feel just how wet you are, your panties slide against your slick skin with his movements, damp against his hand. “Do you think you’re deserving of my touch right now?”

Your exhale rattles against his chest, and he waits patiently for your answer. He allows you a moment to think, and he knows it’s hard, as his fingers tease at the seam of your underwear, slipping underneath to find the wetness there.

“I am.” You finally say.

“Oh, are you?” Seokjin chuckles, dipping a finger into the warmth of you just to hear your gasping moan. He presses the finger against your clit, circling once, twice, and then he stops. “Do you want me to tell you why you’re not?”

Seokjin kisses your jaw, and the slight shift of your hips doesn’t go unnoticed. “You let that man get near you. Allowed him to act like I wasn’t there. Ignored the way he was looking at you.”

“Jin, it wasn’t...”

“Shh,” Seokjin shushes you gently, fingers resuming the slow, torturous grind against your clit. “I should make you cum until you cry.”

The whimper you let out makes his slacks feel constricting. He sinks two fingers, knuckle deep into you and kisses your neck when your head lulls back against his shoulder. He watches the way his hand moves under your panties, curling his fingers against the spot that makes your toes curl.

He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear when your pussy clenches and your moans go up in pitch.

“Close already?” Seokjin coos mockingly, a chuckle on his exhale. The fingers of his other hand pinching lightly at your nipples, and then he stops, “That’s too bad, then.”

Your groan holds frustration and Seokjin unhooks your legs from his. He stands to rid himself of his clothes, his cock hard and weeping when it slaps lightly against his stomach. The reaction you invoke in him has never changed, a shiver slithers down his spine and watches at your tongue darts out to moisten your lips. You reach a hand out to him and Seokjin takes it, bending a little at his waist to press kisses against your fingers.

He fishes a condom from your nightstand – ever mindful – and then crawls between your legs, taking a moment to slide your panties down them.

“Okay?” He asks to make sure that you’re okay to continue, that he’s not driving you too hard.

You nod, and you lift your hips, pressing his cock between your wet heat and his stomach. Seokjin groans against your lips, tightening his grip against your thigh.

He moves his hips, pulling back and then pushing into you with slow, languid strokes. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue exploring your mouth. When his fingers brush against your clit, the way your core tightens around his cock has him seeing stars. His thrusts gets faster, and he knows just how quickly you’re hurdling towards your end, he watches every minute expression. The way your eyes squeeze shut and how your lips curl around his name, the scratching of your nails down his back.

Just as you reach the peak, Seokjin moves his hand away and slows his thrusts, leaving you trembling and whining. He smiles against your lips, and whispers, “Let’s take this slow.” He kisses you again, his thrusts becoming slower and gentler.

He continues to move in and out of you at a slow, steady pace, taking his time to bring you to the edge of pleasure again and again. Eventually, he begins to speed up, and he moves his hand back to your clit, sending you over the edge into a powerful orgasm.

“Fuck.” Seokjin groans, following not long after, his forehead against your collarbone. There’s a ringing in ears when he comes down, and he presses a kiss to your sternum before pulling away.

After you were both cleaned up and the sheets were changed, Seokjin holds you close as you both watch the couple of minutes tick by until midnight.

“Do you have any resolutions?” Your head is against his chest, a leg over his hip.

He traces patterns against your thigh, thinking quietly. This is another one of those human things that he wouldn’t ever grasp. You rang in the last new year with Yoongi and Hoseok while he was busy with his duties with the other Cupids in the area, so you must’ve had this question for a while.

Seokjin hums softly, “Loving you. That’s it.” He smiles when you giggle and when the fireworks start up at the stroke of midnight you both watch them light up the night sky through your open window.

“Happy New Year, Jinnie.”

Seokjin turns, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss and he whispers the words back to you.

You both lay there for a moment, quiet, and then Seokjin speaks: “You know, I could make him fall in love with his office chair or something.”

“Jin.”

tagging: @xpeachesncream @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @eoieopda @minmin2022 @liveyun

[shiftythrifting]

misc finds. All found at thrifts in the Boise, ID area over the last several weeks.

I'm endeared by the concept of a toy fire truck coming with a smoke detector. No constructive commentary on anything else here except for I almost bought the Bean Drawer just to free the frog.

[kithtaehyung]

the window (3tan) (m) | myg

title: the window (m)   pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)   series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au   summary: you get to spend the holidays in a lavish private lodge with your brother and all his friends. but you’re just really fucking sad tonight… and maybe a bit mad, too. note: so in order to not fall more behind than i already am, i went ahead and combined both holiday specials into one🥃this one came about due to window anon’s reminder about yoongi’s window threat, and everyone that proceeded to cause outright chaos all day after that. so if you want someone to yell at for this, yell at them!!! note 2: this is a holiday special! therefore where it fits/if it fits in future canon is not disclosed. so this can be enjoyed as a one-shot, but i still highly recommend reading all the three tangerines series if you haven’t yet<3 it’ll make things make a lot more sense.  warnings: strong language, alcohol, this yoongi requires his own warning tbh, chains making a comeback who is shocked!!!, or*l (m rec), manhandling, hitting it from the back a ha ha, angst :(((, masturb*tion, exhibiti*nism, omg we’re kinda pissed y’all😳, ….c*ckwarming, rough s*x, slow motion l o l, missi*nary, protected s*x, cmnf (clothed male), pain kink :)), kissing haha, !!!angry!!!s*x!!!!, c*wgirl, light d*m/sub dynamics, tense scenes, bro appearance, body worship, yoongi is deliciously aggravating, but so is brat!reader<333, ch*king (m/f rec), head/hair pulling (m/f), multiple org*sms, yoongi’s fit is basically 2022 grammys have funn🥴, cute af aftercare<3 drop date: january 10th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 15.3k bc i can’t stfu !! 

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“You sure you don’t wanna join us?”

“I’ll be okay, Tae.” 

“Okay. Well, call me if you change your mind.” 

“I will.” 

“Wait. Are you really sure?”

“Yes, Chim.” 

“...Okay.” 

Before you shut your door, you offer both boys a smile they don’t buy. 

But they leave regardless, and you watch as they make it down the staircase of your elaborate rented house, their chatter coating both the polished floors and the decorated walls. 

A sigh escapes. 

You know they’re meeting up with everyone else, but you can’t bring yourself to join in on the festivities. Not after whatever the hell you witnessed at dinner last night. 

Why did Yoongi… 

Fuck, forget about it. It’s probably nothing. 

Drifting to your bed, you check your phone previously dumped on the nightstand, sighing at an empty screen before making your way into the cozy nook of your bedroom. 

Seriously, does every bedroom in this mansion-like place have a mini kitchen and living area, too? How did Jungkook happen to score this house for a whole week? You even have a decent balcony, which you would be sitting on if not for the subzero temperatures outside.

However this happened, you’re still in shock that you’re the only one who got a bedroom to themselves. 

Well, maybe it’s not that surprising. Your brother definitely muscled everyone else into rooming with each other, claiming Yoongi for himself. The only one that really complained was Jungkook, but Seokjin only said to suck it up before rolling his suitcase right past the younger one’s pout.

Contemplative, you walk over to fill the electric kettle you found in the kitchen, flipping it on before watching the sunset outside hickory windows.

If only your friends were able to come. At least you could’ve enjoyed their company around your fireplace while you downed hot chocolate and stewed in your thoughts. Maybe then you would brush off these icky feelings faster, or at least had Dom there to get another read on the situation you’re replaying in your head. 

Then again.

She would probably be biased and say Yoongi isn’t shit.

Groaning, you grab a mug from one of the cabinets before taking a hot chocolate packet from the counter, tearing it open and hoping it helps.

Upon inspection, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything—just a wad of the powder stuffed in one of the corners.

Of course.

A tsk scratches your teeth before you lean the cocoa against your cup, and the kettle boils just as your blood pressure falls close behind.

Yoongi knew you could see him.

Why did he do that?

And why hasn’t he said anything about it since?

The trip had been pretty magical and fantastic before that dinner. You got to go sightseeing in the snow-capped mountains with everyone, snuck a peek of Tae’s little moment with Jimin in the hot springs, visited a quaint village with pretty shops, and even sat around a fire pit after grilling food.

Only the studio guys and your brother have been less active during this trip, since they’ve all committed to various projects that they’ve been working on in their rooms. 

Profoundly different from, as that woman so wonderfully put it last night, going sightseeing at her place instead. 

You still remember the look Yoongi had after she slipped him what you imagine was her number. Smack dab in the middle of all of you having dinner in the same little town as the first time. 

When she popped up unannounced, Hoseok and Namjoon were too nice to wave her off. But it wasn’t until it was apparent that she was only there for Yoongi did they swallow their niceties—only for your brother to swoop in with the wingman charm. 

“Are you all enjoying the town?”

“Hell yeah,” he blurted before Yoongi could even say anything. “Food’s good and the views are great. We just went on one of those mountain tours, too.” 

“Ugh, aren’t those so fun?”

“You get it. Right, Yoong?”

Frankly, you don’t wanna recall how the rest of that went down again. Not when all you could picture is the hand kept on Yoongi’s back the whole time, or the look he actually gave her when she turned suggestive. 

And how deep you dug your nails into Tae’s dress pants.

Fuck, you should apologize for those marks he definitely has.

What makes everything even worse? You recognized exactly where you saw her before that night. 

You… She…

“Fuck.”  

Saddened even more than before, you dump hot water into your cup, yelping when some sloshes out onto your hand ouch.

Of course. Yes. How perfect. 

The next curse is less subtle than your shout as you bang the kettle back onto the countertop. And you’re one second from tossing your fresh cup in the sink before you hear rapid knocking. 

Shit. 

Your brother most definitely heard you from right next door. 

Eyes shut, you fling your hand around while making your way over to tell him to screw off. He knows better than anyone why you could possibly be in one of these moods, dinner woes or not. 

“Don’t worry, dude, I’m—”

Oh.

He’s not who you expect to see at all.

“Kook,” you whoosh out, closing the gap so that only your soured face can be seen. “Hi.” 

“Hey. You okay?”

Observing concern under blond bangs, you give a sniff nod. “Yeah. Why?”

“I just…” When Jungkook pauses, you finally notice how nice he looks. “Thought I heard you shouting.”

“Oh.”

He looks really nice, in fact. His suit is a whole step above the sweats and baggy shirt you’re sporting behind thick wood and room care instructions.

This holiday event the neighborhood is throwing must be fancy as hell. You figured Taehyung and Jimin dressed up just because, but apparently you’re missing a whole—

God. Damn it.

Your heart must’ve seen Yoongi coming from your brother’s room before you did, because its beats already stop before he fully comes into view.

Wow.

What in the fuck?

Why the hell does he have to look like that when you’re this frustrated? Of course he’d rock a black button-up and slacks. Of course he’d style his hair in a way that makes you wanna snatch him from the hallway. Of course he’d look the most expensive you’ve ever seen him.

This is a whole other layer of upset that you didn’t need tonight. 

Did he dress up because…

Shut up. Just shut up shut up and talk again because Jungkook looks gravely concerned.

“Well,” you start, tearing your gaze away from your current problem and fighting back pent-up rage. “I’m fine. Have fun.”

“You aren’t going?”

Like some tether that would go taut if pulled apart for too long, your eyes snap back to Yoongi’s. But your response remains tight as he adjusts one of his cuffs, “I said I wasn’t gonna.”

Damn it, don’t lose it when they’re both here. Jungkook’s already got a look in his eye and Yoongi is definitely sussing you out with his furrowed gaze.

Don’t be like this right now. Let them go first. 

It’s the younger one that tries to convince you,

“Hey, it could be fun. And it’s an open bar! We can wait if you wanna cha—”

“I’m good,” you clip him off, heart sinking because you’re being brash but you can’t rein yourself in. With what already happened combined with… other things, you are way too wound to be social. “I already said I wasn’t going at dinner last night. But y’all seemed distracted enough, so.” 

Yoongi straightens while Jungkook simply utters a confused sound. 

Fucking hell, just let them go. 

Don’t make it worse. Don’t do it. 

But the dinner, the dinner, the dinner. You didn’t ask about it, but Yoongi still could’ve said something about it right he could’ve texted well okay this really shouldn’t be that big of a deal anyway maybe it’s nothing but fuck you’re still mad wait you’re saying something,

“Have fun sightseeing.”

Shit.

“Wait—”

Doors slam a lot louder when they’re huge.

And leave a more prominent silence, too.

Slowly pressing your back against the grain, you instantly feel rife with regret. 

That didn’t need to happen like that. 

Especially with Jungkook there looking both lost and confused as hell, when all he wanted to do was check on you.

Goddamn it. All you had to do was wait until they were gone. Why did you take it out on them? 

Yoongi didn’t say anything about what happened. But you didn’t talk to him, either. A whole day passed and his texts about the snow outside and going to the party tonight are the last ones in your thread. 

Which you were mad about because you already mentioned you weren’t going.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

“What the hell just happened?”

Wait, they’re still at the door? 

Eyes downcast and grey, you perk your ears to see what they could possibly be saying.

If any insults are thrown, you can’t be mad. Not when you just acted so damn shitty.

“Don’t, Kook.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“The fuck? No. Let’s go.” 

“Okay… Wait, is he coming?”

“Nah.” 

“They both aren’t? Who’s going?”

“…Everyone else.” 

“Oh… Right, okay.” 

You’re fully slumped on the ground once their deep voices vanish down the stairs, and a single tear slips from your chin as your arms top shaky knees. 

You hope Jungkook doesn’t take it personal. 

Dinner woes or not, you weren’t going anyway. 

“Hey, babe. How’s the trip without me? Boring as hell probably.” 

“Something like that,” you huff, voice rueful through your matching, broken smile. As you take another bite of your tiny snack bowl, you keep your eyes on the movie that some people deem a Christmas one, despite there being more shooting and a guy in a destroyed white tank than anything. 

Whatever. You’ll take it above any of the fluffier choices. 

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked what’s wrong. Now you’re just scaring me. Do I need to fly my ass over there?”

“No, Dom,” you sigh. “Just need a metaphorical gut punch.” 

Immediately, your friend’s voice turns low and condensed. 

“What did he do.” 

“Uhm.” For some reason, her protectiveness makes you want to cry again. But you have to get through this in one piece, especially if it turns out to be nothing. “Technically, I don’t know if he did anything.” 

There’s a pause before Dom responds again, 

“Why not?” 

Your lips press together with guilt. “I didn’t ask.” 

“Okay, so…” 

“Ugh, I wish you saw what went down,” you respond with frustration. “I know I sound dumb, but—”

“What happened, baby. I haven’t heard you like this in a long ass time.” 

“Sad?”

“Pathetic.” 

“Well, goddamn!” You give your phone a glare before a surprise laugh bubbles forth, and you can hear your friend cackle on the other line. “Whose side are you on?”

“Tell me everything first and I’ll decide.” 

“Fuck you and your sag brain.” 

“Don’t have this tat for nothing.” 

After you take a deep breath, you turn down the gunfire and explosions before reliving the dinner. How Yoongi had been giving you looks as you and your brother traded embarrassing stories, your whole table laughing with every single one. 

You tell Dom about how you saw the woman come up to you all, hand going right to the back of Yoongi’s chair before it slipped onto his shoulder—which he did nothing about. 

She stays silent throughout the whole thing, even when you tell her how Yoongi glanced down at the napkin he got before turning to your amused as hell brother, both of them engaged in what seemed to be interesting conversation. 

When you’re done, you stuff a bunch more food in your mouth, so much so that you have to chew a lot before answering her follow-up question, 

“And he hasn’t texted you at all after that?”

You cough a bit before forcing the pity snacks down, swallowing more than salt before admitting, 

“He has.” 

“Oh. Okay, and?”

“I…” Damn it. “I haven’t responded.”

There’s a long sigh before Dom recaps, 

“So the man texts you once after that and you don’t even—”

“Twice.” 

“...What?”

Your eyes shut in embarrassment. “He, uhm. He texted twice.” 

Silence.

“And I may have just slammed the door in his face.”

Triple, layered, compounded silence.

In fact, after a whole thirty seconds, Dominique is so quiet you think she literally walked away from you and her phone.

You’re so curious that you bring it up to your face before getting blasted by her yell,

“Really?”

“Look—”

“You called me to tell me this? You made me walk away from family game time, you know that? I’m taking all the heat—”

“Dom, I’m sorry, but—”

“For the love of— Finish whatever the fuck you’re stuffing your face with, and text him back.��� 

“But he—”

“He what? Flirted with some chick in front of everyone like he’s supposed to?” 

You snap your mouth shut. 

“What did you expect him to do? Lock eyes with you the whole time and wave the girl off as if he’s already got someone at home?” 

“I—”

“What happened to keeping things on the down low.”

“Alright!” Your head ducks straight between your arms. “I get it, okay? I’m just in a shit mood like I am every year and the one person I…” 

You inhale slow through your nose, eyes closed to the world. Two people already got burned by your misplaced wrath. You don’t need to add a third. 

Swallowing, you try again. “The one person that could possibly make it better this time just took this chick’s number in front of me.” 

“Babe.” 

You sigh. 

“I just wanna see him, Dom,” you finally admit to the universe. “But we can’t.”

“Mm.”

“And that dinner just made it even worse.” Another saddened whoosh of air slips from your nose. “I know I’m overreacting. I am. But it’s upsetting to have to sit through that.” 

“Then tell him that.”

“Not right now. Not after shutting him out.”

“Then suck it up and apologize first.”

She’s right. 

Either way this goes, an apology to Yoongi is definitely in order. 

But also, this is the first conversation in awhile in which your best friend absolutely grilled you. Even when she cornered you in your car to warn you about Yoongi before, it wasn’t this caustic. 

The way she’s come around is mind-blowing. It’s enough to make you question, “When did you start defending him this hard?”

Dom immediately corrects with a scoff before comforting you in the most Dominique way possible. 

“This isn’t even about him. I’m looking out for you. And right now, you’re the one that’s hurting you.” 

Your face scrunches with emotion.

“So make up with my future brother in law and I’ll see you when—”

“What?”

“—get back. And y’all use protection, right? Cus I don’t wanna be an auntie just ye—”

“Dom!” You are so whooping her know-it-all ass when you get back. She doesn’t get to give you butterflies after making you cry! 

“What? I need to be stupid rich first.”

“I’m hanging up on you now goodbye.”

There’s a fizzy cackle on the other line, and you can’t help but break into a grin when she bids farewell.

“Love you!”

You wipe a trail from your cheek before moving your phone up to your mouth. Because you wanna cradle it close while saying bye for real, 

“Love you, too.”

You [10:11pm]: hey

You [10:13pm]: i’m sorry 

There. 

You did it. 

…And now you wait.

Ten long minutes of fidgeting and worrying later, you finally get a response. 

Yoongi [10:23pm]: You coming?

Part of you wishes to, especially knowing he looks like the devil incarnate. 

But you just can’t bring yourself to go. It’s just not in you tonight. 

You [10:27pm]: still no

Yoongi [10:27pm]: Ok hold on

You wait for a few moments before you get a call, and your eyes bug out of their sockets because you certainly didn’t expect this.

When you pick up, it’s loud as hell on his end. “Hi.”

“Talk to me.”

“I’m…” This feels silly to do right now. There’s a ton of sound and music, and your subject feels supremely out of place. “You sure?”

“Yes, babe.” 

What did he just say? Can’t people hear him?

“I’m just…” Well, if he’s fine with it then you’ll take the opportunity. “Sad? Upset? Something like that.”

“I know. I’ve been trying to get outta here but—”

“One more drink, Yoongi!”

“Yoongi, hurry up.”

“Is that his girlfriend—”

Ah. Cool.

And your mood sours even more than before. 

“Right,” you respond, voice hardened and emotions knotted. “Sounds like it’s been super hard.”

“Okay, hold up. Is this about the dinner?”

Teeth grit when you confirm, “Yes, it is.”

“What about it?”

“You know exactly what.”

“No. I don’t. So if you wanna say something, say it.”

You’re boiling inside. If he knows it’s about the dinner he should know what the fuck you’re referring to. Why is he being difficult?

Truthfully, you’re so fed up that you damn near drop it. “Never mind.”

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

Yoongi’s voice competes with a flurry of other sounds, but its heat still comes across,

“It’s not nothing. Don’t lie.” 

“Did you end up calling her? That girl.” You exhale sharp as you finally ask, body tightly wound and ready to burst. “If I can’t lie then you can’t, either.”

And there’s a moment of silence. 

Stupid, dreadful silence.

“I did.”

And your heart slams into the ground. “I see.” 

“You wanna know why?”

Absolutely not. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m done now.”

“Wait a sec—”

“Yoongi!”

There’s a commotion on the line before you hear a much higher voice, way too close to the receiver,

“He’s with us now, ma’am. Bye!”

The line cuts.

Your vision burns.

And you fold.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi [10:47pm]: Pick up. Please.

You [10:49pm]: i can’t do this. not tonight.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi: Voicemail

“Look. I don’t even know if you’ll hear me out, but. I only called her cus she works at that jewelry store in the village. The one we all looked at the first day? Maybe you remember, if you don’t it’s cool, too. But I was getting something for your brother and I didn’t want him to know. So, yeah.”

That’s where you saw her before.

But Yoongi could’ve at least told you that beforehand. Or at all. 

Why didn’t he even mention that? 

Why did he have to leave you guessing and what about the people at the party… 

It helps to know. 

But it doesn’t mend you entirely.

Yoongi [11:02pm]: I left. 

Yoongi [11:03pm]: It’s still fucking cold btw

You [11:05pm]: you left ?? why?

Yoongi [11:05pm]: You know why

You [11:07pm]: it’s still early

Yoongi [11:08pm]: Got somewhere to be 

You [11:10pm]: i’m sure you do

Shutting your eyes, you already regret sending that. 

…But when he replies? 

Yoongi [11:12pm]: K

Yoongi [11:12pm]: Night

You know you crossed the line.

And just like that, your haze of anger whooshes from your eyes, vision snapping as clear as your head should’ve been ages ago. 

Fuck.

You know for a fact that Yoongi wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. So why the hell have you been treating him like shit? Being in a sour mood doesn’t give you an excuse to be this way.

All anger now melting into pure regret, you slap the mattress before rushing up, snatching your snack bowl up and berating yourself like hell. 

But are you yelling at yourself entirely? Or is part of your wrath still staring Yoongi down? 

Fuck. You don’t know. Maybe it’s both; maybe it’s misplaced entirely. 

Dumping your dish in the mini-sink, you hear it clink into others, your pathetic, unceremonious pile growing even larger.

Absolutely no reason to check your phone anymore.

There’s no way you’ll hear from him now.

Buried in bed, you sniffle for the umpteenth time, turning the television up louder so that your pitiful state can’t be heard through the wall. 

Your brother is on the other side. And if he heard you crying, you wouldn’t get rid of him until you told him a lie or claimed Mother Nature’s monthly wrath. Which would also be a lie tonight, too. 

You messed up.

And you deserve this silence because why can’t you just trust him like you’ve been working up to? Do the holiday lows really affect your mindset this much? 

Well. Now that you think about it. 

This does remind you of a similar situation from some years back… Is that why—

Wait.

Your phone’s vibrating. 

You shoot up from under the covers.

Where is it?

You tossed it where is it—floor. 

Snatching it from the cold carpet, you check the screen and crack into a sob at the caller ID. 

Goddamn it… Why is he giving you so many chances.

You’re the one that screwed up.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

“…Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, still feeling the burns near your eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just let me in, doll.”

“Huh?”

There’s a pause before he breathes, and you cannot believe what you’re hearing. 

“Open the window.” 

What…?

No fucking way. 

You pause while staring at your curtains, wondering if Yoongi is really on the other side of the thick, neutral material. 

He can’t be. 

But if he is, you gotta get him the fuck inside because it’s cold as hell out there. 

So you fling the covers off while ending the call, chucking it behind you while tugging the drapes to the side. 

And you can’t believe what you see. 

One thing about Yoongi: he’s always going to look better than you. Even when standing on a dark balcony, bangs so stiff they aren’t even jittering with his shakes. 

“Oh, shit,” you curse aloud as you unlock the latch, not realizing that as soon as you slide the door open just enough—

“Come here.”

In seconds, you’re swooped into a freezing hug, and he smells like whiskey and cologne but also like him and home and you’re too caught up in his fingers on the back of your neck to notice him sliding the door shut with his other hand. “Why did you—” 

“Quiet.” 

“But—” 

“Uh uh.” 

“You’re mad—” 

“I am,” he mutters, and your heart constricts before he clarifies. “But only cus I didn’t do this right.” 

“What?” 

What didn’t he do right? What are you missing? How is he even here? There are too many questions and not enough answers at all. 

But Yoongi still doesn’t let go of your head, instead palming it just a bit more into his dress shirt before he whispers, “Just...” 

And he stops. 

Without any indication of—

“Can I just kiss you.” 

Your heart drops, which is painfully ironic because it feels lighter than ever. 

Lifting your head from his person, you can only stare into his awaiting gaze, shifting your eyes side to side because this man needs to be studied by all of humanity. 

How can someone manage to break down your defenses in five words? How can someone make a day full of missteps and wasted time feel like it wasn’t a waste at all? 

You only get to nod once before he consumes you in a frenzy, nerves and senses going haywire at the way he’s tugging you in holy fuck you see stars. 

Desperation. Frustration. You taste both of these, but there is also something else—an apology. 

Good. 

Because even though you messed up, he kinda did, too. And you think you now have the courage to tell him what he did to upset you.

“You know what?” 

“Hmm.”

You snag the front of his shirt. “I’m pissed, too.” 

As he slings you around to kiss you against the chilled glass door, your body buzzes with a flurry of thoughts. Under all the pain, the anger, the relief that he’s here… 

It’s just intriguing as fuck to see him in this state.

Because Yoongi has shown you time and time again how dangerous he can be. How he can lose control in the best ways just as you do for him. 

But right now? Devouring you like you both had been apart for months while your brother’s on the other side of the wall? 

“Yoongi—” 

“Don’t.” 

This is the most daring he’s ever been. And you’re completely surrendering to the flames he’s engulfing you with. 

Your hands grip his top incredibly hard, clawing at him with unspoken words of your own. With each tug, you’re oscillating between telling him to leave, and begging him to stay. 

And with both of his palms on your neck, his firm presses tell you he’s not leaving regardless of what you have to say. 

Suddenly, your heart isn’t aching because of what you witnessed before. It’s aching because of how wonderful and stupid and perfect this man is. It hurts because…

“This is all I wanted,” you finish your thoughts through wobbly, puffy lips. 

When Yoongi hovers just enough to ghost over you, you can’t keep from shaking when you continue, 

“I just… I wanted you here, even if you upset me.” 

Instead of claiming your lips again, Yoongi goes for a light touch to your nose. Which is just as fine because that’s his to claim, too. “But all I did was shut you out, and just now those girls sounded all over you and—” 

“You should’ve seen what happened.” 

Blinking, you feel the distance he’s creating by leaning away. “Hmm?” 

“After that chick took my phone,” he explains, deep set in a frown. “Shit pissed me the fuck off.” 

“Oh.” 

“I don’t even know where they came from. Hobi, maybe?” He shakes his head again, and the agitation you witness between his shoulders makes you crumble. “But doesn’t matter. At all. Okay?” 

“No, I know. I’m not—I’m not normally like this. But this time of year is just…” You sigh, tilting your head down until Yoongi forces you to keep looking him in the eye. When you go on, his insistent finger on your chin makes tears form. “It messes with me. But that’s no excuse to be an ass.” 

In the wake of your admittance, he simply stares. And stares some more. 

A single drop of remorse slips from your eye, but you swipe it as soon as you feel the trail. Because you’re not gonna dwell in this any longer. He’s here, knowing damn well he shouldn’t be, and you realize that’s enough to tell you that he’s sorry, too.  

But what is that look in his eye? 

What is he saying that you can’t quite decipher? 

“Did you get my message?”

You nod.

“Mm. Well, it’s not all true.” 

Oh. 

Hell no.

When you’re about to move away, he stills you with a hand on your arm while reaching into his back pocket. 

What does he mean he lied what did he lie about he better explain quick or else… a pouch?

Your eyes stay unblinking as you register that Yoongi’s holding a soft bag in his hand. 

And you know exactly what those are used for. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, voice almost lost. “What the hell is that?” 

“I didn’t go back just for him.” He keeps staring at the tiny container while you regard him, still gobsmacked. “But yeah, that girl? She thought I was there for her, so. Wasn’t exactly happy when I mentioned you.” 

Your heart has got to keep it together. “Me?” 

“Yeah. I knew what I wanted to get you, but. Couldn’t exactly go there myself without a reason.” As he places the soft pouch in your hand, he explains, “He was on my ass about seeing her after the dinner, too.” 

Your hand closes around the bag. 

He knew what he wanted to get you? 

You?

This whole night just seems to drift more and more into dreamland. Are you sleeping after all? Those kisses did feel very, very real, though…

Suspended in disbelief that Yoongi is both present and handing you a gift, you breathe out, 

“Thank you… But why didn’t you tell me?” 

Yoongi scrunches his face in what you assume is embarrassment. Adorable. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says through a regretful smirk. “Guess I should’ve just fessed up.” 

“This time? Yeah.” You look down at the bag, feeling like you don’t deserve it. “I know I shouldn’t have, but my brain went straight for the worst possible scenario. It’s, umm…”

Looking away, you fight the tears that you specifically didn’t want falling. The ones that you were done crying years ago, 

“It’s happened before. Around this same time, actually.” 

Eyes burning, Yoongi seethes. “Who the fuck?” 

You shake your head and face him again, whispering out reassurance, 

“Someone that doesn’t matter now.”

His silence seems to be different than before. When he runs a hand along the side of your head, you press into it like second nature. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not something I like talking about,” you quietly confess. “Which is stupid if it’ll also make me upset. So I’m sorry, too.” 

“You wanna know something?” 

“Sure.” 

He drops his hand into a pocket. “You being mad never crossed my mind. No one else can even...” Yoongi lets out a huff so delicate you would never guess it was his. “If anything, I’m pissed that I haven’t shown you well enough.” 

Now that’s interesting. 

Blinking, you reach for context, “Haven’t shown me? Shown me what?”

He rakes a hand through his hair while glancing away. But when you lock eyes, he clarifies with zero waver in his tone,

“How I feel about you.”

…Oh.

Your stare is full of wonder and, while you didn’t notice it before, he seems to have a certain aura around him tonight. Something strong. Something resolute. 

“No,” you whisper, a tear pinging onto your shirt. “You have. Damn it, I—It’s my fault.” 

He is quick to assuage your guilt, just like always. And like all the times before, he moves on before you can protest, 

“Open it.”

Oh. Right. You still have the impossible gift in your hand that you know you’re gonna keep forever without even knowing what it could be. 

In front of you, Yoongi remains silent as you widen the opening. And you feel him awaiting your reaction as you pull out a necklace so simple, yet so elegant, that you can only assume that yes, you are dreaming. None of this is actually happening.

It’s a thin chain, with small links and no embellishments. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Oh my god.” 

“She insisted I get you some sort of charm or whatever for it,” he finally speaks in murmurs. “But I didn’t wanna pick something you wouldn’t like.” 

You stare. 

“So I’ll just bring you next time, and you choose.” 

And you damn near drop the gift. “What?” 

When you slap a palm over your mouth, Yoongi’s lips curve. “No bullshit.” 

“I…” What is happening? What is going on? “I dunno how you’d swing that since everyone’s here.” 

“I’ll just take you here myself.” 

His look of confidence has you averting your gaze in an instant. 

“Just us.” 

Tonight has taken too many turns into madness. He’s joking, right? It’s not enough to sneak into your room with your door completely unlocked, huh?

No. He’s not serious. You both know that’s the longest shot in history, especially considering your situationship isn’t even fully fleshed out. 

But it’s nice to pretend. 

Especially when he sounds so sure it’ll be real someday.

“This is way too much,” you say through a rueful smile, head shaking as you continue to dub tonight unreal. “Thank you, Yoongi.” 

“Huh? You deserve a lot more than this.” He scoffs while taking the necklace from your hand, carefully slipping it back into the bag. “And I was planning to give it to you later, but uhm. Figured now was a better time.” 

“Why?” 

He shrugs. “Just wanted to say you got nothing to worry about.” He softly tosses the bag on your rumpled comforter before grabbing at your hips. “And that you looked hot as fuck at that dinner.” 

Shivers coat your body as you parry, “I wore the biggest coat I brought, are you kidding?”

“Nope.” 

Suspicion makes you hum, but you enjoy his compliments regardless. Even if he’s full of shit, his kindness never fails to heal wounds. “So…”

“Hmm.”

It seems like Yoongi’s done all he wanted to do. Running back the minutes in your mind, he’s managed to kiss the living crap out of you, show that you have nothing to be anxious about, given you a gift, and offered to take you back here on your own getaway trip.

What the hell is he still standing around for? He’s done more than enough, so he needs to get the hell out of here.

“You really came here to tell me all that?” 

“Yeah.” He snags your chin. “And to teach you a fucking lesson.” 

What.

What.

Slack-jawed, you rush out, “You aren’t serious—” 

“Dead serious.” 

You know exactly what Yoongi’s implying. But as much as you want nothing more, you can’t. There’s no way! 

“But—” 

Your brother is still very much awake, judging by the loud hip-hop beats bumping through the wall. 

You know it’s a slim chance he would even swing by your room. But still… 

“We can’t.” 

Yoongi grins at the panic you feel buzzing in your eyes. Grins! “Why not?”

“You know exactly why!” you whisper, grabbing him to kiss some sense into that reckless brain you love so much. 

He responds in kind, pushing into you and almost bending you backward. Releasing you with a pop, he asks, smug, “You want me to leave?” 

“Fuck no.” You bring him back in with more force, and your belly flips at his conceited chuckles. “But he’s next door.” 

“I know,” he rumbles. “So keep it the fuck down.” 

Goddamn it. The thrill of having him here while everyone is on this trip bursts your senses wide open, and you’re embarrassed that you’re the most turned on you’ve been in a minute. 

How the hell is that even possible? 

Is it the secrecy? The danger? The possibility of Yoongi getting his entire ass beat if you were caught? 

Fucking hell, it’s everything. And what makes it even worse is how stupidly attractive this man gets when he’s cocky. 

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you lead him straight back against the edge of your bed, and he grunts as his legs bump right into it. 

Shit, that was loud. Was it loud? Crap, you’re paranoid already.

With a sigh, you finally let go, hanging your head. “We can’t,” you repeat, breathless and more to yourself than to him. 

Because this little secret cannot be revealed. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever since your brother would probably riot.

Yoongi lets you sit with your thoughts for a few seconds before relenting, “I can go, doll.” When you jet your head up, he offers a tiny squeeze of your arm. “If that’s what you want.” 

“Oh… No, I”—you gulp, not believing what’s coming out of your own mouth—“I want this.” 

His brow cocks up. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you affirm, face serious but stomach acting outright silly. “I wanna forget my own name.”  

“I can make that happen.” 

You don’t doubt that. He’s done it more than once before.

“But also…” Summoning courage from all angles, you place a firm hand on his chest. “Can I still be mad at you?” 

Yoongi falls completely silent for a moment, his stare incredulous and his chest stiff under your palm. 

Did his heart… beat harder there?

But he regains his voice before you question it further. His deep, sinfully low voice,

“Whatever you want, baby girl.” 

“Good.” You push him immediately, heart stammering when he falls onto your bed. “Because I wanna make you forget yours, too.” 

“Fuck.”

As soon as you pounce, Yoongi wastes no time in groping both cheeks of your ass, and you can’t help but squeak when he hauls you off to pin you down into the mattress. 

Air leaves you in a rush as he keeps up the offensive, bearing down on you as he lodges a tone thigh right against your cunt. Another mewl escapes before he clasps a hand around your mouth. 

When he speaks, it’s compressed thunder. And his words strike through you like lightning,

“As much as I wanna hear you, you better shut the fuck up, doll.” 

You hum into his palm, twisting your body to try and gain control again. But you find it’s no use as you thrust your chest into his, the slow rumbles of his conceited laughs all you receive. 

“So cute,” he coos into your ear, chuckling even lower when you whoosh out a grunt. “But you’re gonna wait your turn like a good girl.” 

“No!” you grit into his hand, moaning low when you feel fingers graze right over your cunt. 

When did he even move his leg! 

Yoongi shifts his head, bangs tickling the side of your neck when he questions, “No?” Shifting your shorts, he slips his fingers right underneath them and your panties, causing you to flinch right away. “Wanna try that again?” 

“N…” You breathe out of your nose, and quickly realize that he isn’t gonna move his fingers any longer unless you give in. 

…But why do it so easily?

You’ve spent the past twenty-four hours being pissed at the world—and this man to some degree—so why waste all the compressed energy making a warzone of your body?

Use it. Use it to make the most of the time you get this version of Yoongi to yourself.

Lifting one of your arms, you grab his palm to yank it away from your mouth before defying him a second time. 

“Make me,” you hiss, lifting your head to meet his lips. “Bitch.”

Everything happens at once.

Before you can blink, your arms are pinned above your head while large fingers lodge their way into your mouth. While you’re busy taking them in, there’s a dark, almost sinister vow trickling into your ear, and shivers coat every inch of your skin,

“You’re gonna wish you kept this pretty mouth shut.” 

Your reply is a gurgle, but he keeps going in, 

“Because you seem to think I’m not yours.” 

Wait. What? 

That’s the… That’s the lesson he’s gonna teach you?

“And I’m gonna fuck you until you get the point.”

Oh, fuck. He’s still pissed.

He may not tell you exactly how mad he really is, but you can tell he’s frustrated. And quite frankly, you would be too if your devotion was questioned.

Fuck. If you saw things from his side, you really would be upset. 

The twinge between your thighs rattles your entire lower body. Because he’s gonna tear you apart in the most beautiful way.

“Get up.” 

“What—” 

Yoongi hauls you upward, getting you out of the bed before bringing you to the other side of the bedroom. 

Huh? 

What’s he doing? Why is your mind a whirlwind right now? 

Silent but firm, he leads you to one of the armchairs in your room’s nook, sitting you down before giving a chaste kiss. After, he goes to your door to lock it, and you watch unblinking as he takes long strides back to you. 

You don’t know what the hell is going on.

But you literally cannot be more ready for it.

Unbuttoning one of his cuffs, Yoongi simply stands over you while explaining, 

“You’re gonna show me first.” 

“Huh?” 

He folds his sleeve inward before pushing it up his forearm. “How you get off.” 

Oh, god. 

God.

“Yoongi—” 

He uses a knee to spread one of your legs to the side, staring at your center that you know is already wetting straight through your bottoms.

When you stay silent, he proceeds to slip his other sleeve upward, cocking an impatient brow from above,

“Don’t make me wait.” 

Before you can respond, he walks away, moving towards a tall lamp standing in a corner of the dark room. As you wonder how he’s able to switch demeanors as quickly as a lightbulb, he flicks it on, shortly before taking comfortable residence in the armchair opposite you. 

You can only sit there, full of wonder and not knowing what the hell to do. 

Does he really have to spread his legs as wide as yours, though? 

Handsome asshole.

“You tappin’ out already?”

“Shove it,” you rush out, pouting with a beating heart when he leans his smug face on defined knuckles. 

Because whatever Yoongi’s plan is, this scenario? Is a dream. 

You’ve been wanting to do this for so long—longer than you’ll ever, ever divulge. All the nights you spent touching yourself imagining him watching from your desk, or even right beside you on the bed, whispering things that you will never admit that you thought of yourself. 

It doesn’t help that Yoongi looks like Sin.

So you bite your lip, the essence of time and possibility of someone knocking on your door spurning you into action. 

You reach down to stick your hand down your pants—

“Fuck that.” 

What?

Freezing, you watch his face, hardened and dark. 

“Who said you could go inside?”

“You said—”

“Uh uh.” He pins you with a fiendish curve. “Lemme see those pretty nails first.” 

Your senses don’t know what to do with themselves. 

How long has Yoongi been hiding this side of him? This demanding, uncompromising side that you wish you knew sooner? Why did he decide to bring it out during the most inappropriate time? 

Because it’s fucking hot, that’s why.

Not only that. It’s also reaching into you and unearthing parts that you wouldn’t dare show anyone else. If you were honest, you’re a bit frightened at the thoughts dripping into your mind, coalescing into a dark, wonderful pool. 

But those little scenarios can wait. Right now, you just want this so-called lesson to go as long as it possibly can.

Slowly, you rub yourself above your sweats, immediately understanding why he made you do this. 

You loathe this. Complete pleasure is miles away, and yet right there. 

Fucking hell, you’re already embarrassed at how sensitive you are. Will he force you to try and come this way? Is that even possible?

Well. You can’t truly rule anything out when it comes to him. 

Silently, you beg him to not let that be the case, already angry as if it was. 

Yoongi chuckles, and you can’t help but shudder at his low scratchy tone. 

“You mad?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. Stay that way.” 

You growl, throwing your head back and rubbing in aggravating circles, trying anything to get the friction your lust desires. Your mouth forms shapes until words fit through, and Yoongi responds to a plea you didn’t know you uttered,

“Please what?”

“Please…” You breathe harsh. “Lemme take them off.”

“Why should I?”

“Let me do it and I’ll show you.”

“Pass.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out, groaning in annoyance when he chuckles with little pity. 

If you had to guess what would happen on this trip before going, you would never have chosen anything close to this. Laid out on an armchair, shamefully rubbing yourself through your pants while your brother’s friend watches? What kind of fucking universe did you stumble into?

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

In your haze, you open bleary eyes and ask, “Huh?”

“Shirt off.” 

Shit. You didn’t even hear him. “But my pants—”

“Don’t care.” 

Oh, you hate this Yoongi. And you love how outright feral he’s making you feel. 

Fingers shaking, you raise your shirt up, and he hums when you reveal a braless chest.  

“All the way off,” he commands with gravel in his words, and groans in approval when you follow instructions.

When you fling the shirt towards him, he doesn’t move an inch as it reaches his shoes. 

And as he stares down at the material, something stirs in your belly, and you’re quick to wonder where any and all if this rebellion is coming from.

Maybe it’s the painfully obvious tent he has in his pants. Or the ravenous, subtly proud look in his eyes anytime you act out. 

Either way, you wanna ride this wave as far as it carries you. 

“Now what,” you bite, cunt throbbing as you keep trying to find euphoria through thick cotton. 

“Nothing until I say so.” 

“Please,” you beg, huffing hard from pleasure being kept at arm’s length. 

Why the hell is he taking his sweet time? He’s not even supposed to look at you for too long around your brother, and yet here he is fucking you with his eyes as you writhe in a chair. Doesn’t he know he’s on severely borrowed, stolen time?

“Please what?”

Breath ragged and chest heaving, you grunt, “You know what.” 

“I don’t,” he lies. “Tell me.” 

You’re gonna kick his ass. “Lemme take them off.” 

“No.” 

Fucking hell, you can’t take it anymore. Your core aches so hard it’s starting to coax tears, and you know that he’s fully aware and not doing a single thing about it. 

Screw it. You need this, you’re pissed, and you can be difficult, too. 

“Fine then.” Against his orders, you slip defiant fingers into the band of your pants.

“Careful.”

“Pass.” 

His whole face glowers as you offer a devilish expression of your own, slipping your hand right into your panties and rubbing exactly where you want to. 

Finally. 

Pleasure throws your head back as you grasp what you crave, and your ass slides to the edge of the cushion as your back arches taut. Lust shoots through you as you launch yourself into space, turned on by the fact he’s watching you out of all control. 

Are you already this close? How?

Why isn’t Yoongi—

As soon as you open your eyes, you come face to face with him, both of his arms caging you in on each armrest. 

And he looks delightfully pissed. 

Grabbing your wrist, he warns with thick anger, 

“Do that shit again and see what happens.” 

Honestly? You kinda want to. 

But you hear a sound, so your thoughts derail as you snap your head towards the door. 

Your chin is grabbed. “I’m watching, baby girl,” he whispers, making your head spin with how soft he suddenly became. With a passing thought, you just realized that he hadn’t even been using names until then. “Don’t worry.” 

You nod, and he lets you go, reverting back immediately,

“But since you wanna fuck yourself so bad, I might just head out anyway.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you hiss, moaning when your scalp is tugged back. 

“Then do as I say,” he orders, releasing you fast. “And take those off.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you that twice. 

Lip bitten, you stare up at him while slowly slipping off your pants, underwear coming off with them in a pile at your feet. 

As soon as they hit the ground, your legs are pried open again, and you whimper before he commands, 

“Who said you could stop?”

Fuck. 

Gulping, you feel strangely powerful despite being the one with no clothes on. Even though he’s the one towering over, you have a feeling he’s trying hard as fuck to keep himself in check. 

And it’s making you want him more than ever. 

So you continue fingering yourself, his stare chilly and warm at the same time on your bare skin. Your nipples pebble under his attention, and your whines fight through your pressed lips as you get closer and closer to climax.  

“Fuck, the things I wanna do to you,” Yoongi growls, his hand coming up to cradle your face. 

Looking up, you’re sure you look pitiful when you ask, but you can’t help it. “What things.” 

“Wanna fuck your throat.” You whimper into his palm before he sticks a thumb inside your mouth. “Paint this pretty face.” 

Holy fuck.

You moan as tiny as you can muster, cunt pulsing around your fingers and making your eyes roll up.

A snicker erupts before Yoongi smothers your saliva across your cheek, “What’s on your mind?” 

“You.” 

“What about me.” 

And you feel it. Your defiance. Coming out once more before you can even stop it, “Being put in your place—” 

Your throat is snatched in a dime, and you clench when he threatens, “Do it. You won’t.” 

Gurgling, you surprise both of you with a laugh. “I like it, you know,” you choke out, and he’s so confused that he unhands you. 

“Huh?” 

“When you’re mad,” you admit, fingers stopping in between your folds when Yoongi tilts his head with a cautious smile. 

Unprompted, he lets out a tiny laugh of his own. There’s a bit of worry in his voice when he checks in, “You okay, doll?” 

Huh?

Immediately, you assure him with knit brows. “What? Yeah, why?”

He leans down, and you’re regarding him with a strange look as he looks from one eye to the other. 

What’s he doing? Did you do something wrong? 

“Just thought I lost you for a sec,” he finally explains. “Which I would love to see, but not tonight.” 

See what? You’re thrown off guard for a second as you blink. “Oh. No, I really do just like making you mad.” 

He laughs before kissing your head. “I can see that. Punk ass.” When he lifts your chin again, he makes sure with a quiet, “You wanna keep going?”

You don’t know what he means about losing you, but he seems to be back in a comfortable state. And since you’re sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask, you decide to leave that question for another time. Another night when there isn’t risk and danger right next door.

That knowledge is potent enough.

When you nod, Yoongi makes you answer him verbally, so you confirm, “I do, baby.” You sit up high to kiss him before assuring again, “Do your worst.” 

He immediately grins, shaking his head before slipping into a toe-curling smirk. “Nah,” he declines, winking when you pout. “Not like this.” 

Eyes wide, you wonder, “Are you really just gonna watch the whole time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel bad.” Staring at the hardness in his pants, you offer, “At least let me suck you off.”

He only tsks. “Have you earned that yet?”

“I dunno but I know you want it.” 

A tongue prods his cheek. “You’re too good at this.” 

Proud, your smile is wide in response. And you salivate when you hear the clinking of his belt, knowing he’s gonna be a menace during this part, too.

“On your knees then, baby girl.”

You slide off the chair, feeling all your essence between your legs as you sink to the ground. When he only unzips to free his cock, you groan at what appears in front of you, wanting it—needing it—to split you in two.

But you don’t think things will get to that point. This is already pushing the hell out of it, so him plowing you into next week is out of the question. 

This fact is probably why he decided to bring you to the chairs in the first place. That coupled with the fact that it’s on the further side of the room from his shared space with your brother. 

How can he think straight while you’ve been a mess? Your vast difference in experience hits you out of nowhere every time. 

“Go ahead then,” he taunts, and you snap out of your daze. “Let’s see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you internally bite back while taking his weight in your hand, licking his tip before taking him in. 

When he curses, you slide your gaze up his torso, reveling in the way he’s already shifting his jaw.

He’s gonna eat all of his words.

Sliding your mouth back and forth, you make a few passes before releasing him to spit, coating him with your saliva before going again. With your other fingers busy on your clit, you feel the dirtiest you’ve felt in a long time.

And you love it. 

“Fuck, doll.” 

You preen, taking more of him in each time and pumping his base with equal rhythm. You lodge wet digits into yourself the same way, and imagining him both in your guts and in your mouth drives you to the very edge.

Fuck, you really are about to come like thi—

“Hands off,” he says out of nowhere, and you pause for him to clarify, “On your thighs.” 

Wait, no! “But I’m—”

“Now.” 

Fucking hell! 

You know he’s enjoying making you mad, too. There’s no way he’s not having the time of his life. 

When you plant wet palms on your legs, you keep sucking him off, realizing that this is just as hot as what you were doing before. Fuck.

But he takes his cock out with a pop, smacking your cheek before sliding it back into your mouth. As you let out a high whine, he praises,

“So cute like this.” He doesn’t explain further, but falters with a moan before laughing to himself. “Hustling the shit out of me.”

Mouth stuffed, you can only hum in reply. Which only makes him fold forward and curse under his breath. 

Your fingers dig into your thighs, wanting to pleasure both you and him instead of being useless. It’s taking all of you to follow orders while your cunt is throbbing impossibly hard. 

And he finally reaches to fondle your tits to push you over the edge that knock was on your door. 

Wait.

That knock was on your door. 

“You in there?”

And that’s your brother oh FUCK!

While you rush up to stand, Yoongi’s already shoving clothes into your hands and moving away in a flash, and you’re mortified and wondering where he should hide. 

Hide! Like some high schoolers! 

Panicked, you tremble as you attempt to dress, letting the blare of the television respond to your sibling instead. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Yoongi’s done for you’re in deep shit this trip is gonna go sideways real quick. 

When you look his way, he’s already next to your bed on the other side of the room, not moving to open the sliding door. 

What is he doing?

“Did you leave?” 

Talk, for heaven’s sake! “N—No, hold up!” 

“Okay, thought so. Hurry up!”

When you shake your head at Yoongi, all he does is try to smother a cheeky grin—which you immediately reject with a swat down of your hand. 

What the fuck is he thinking! 

Never mind that. You don’t have time for this because your room smells like arousal and cologne and it’s not subtle in the least.

Dashing to your bathroom, you come up with the stupidest plan and hope to every higher power that it works. 

“Are you taking a shit?”

Oh, god. Grabbing perfume, you yell out, “No, just wait! Goddamn!”

“God, you always take so fucking long.” 

When you pop back into your bedroom, you catch Yoongi pinning you with amusement, almost telling him to shut up out loud. 

Why the fuck does he look so hot you need to focus! 

You point down with force, signaling for him to duck behind the other side of your bed as low as he can. Cursed with a frenzied brain and throbbing core, you spray an ungodly amount of perfume while speeding around the room. 

Chairs, bed, air, neck, tv for no reason, chairs again good enough just get the door.

“I swear if you’re hiding something—” 

You pull the entrance open with a yank, pursing your lips and wondering how you’re gonna send him away. 

But his brows pinch instantly. “Damn, what’s up with the face?” 

Shit, you probably look like a trainwreck. What the hell do you say? Certainly not that you were just sucking off his best friend that’s still very much in the room oh god.

“I was watching something.” 

When he cocks a brow, you figure he doesn’t know what to say to that. Whatever. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t suspect anything—

“Lemme in.” 

“Why?” 

“If you checked your phone, you would know.” He scoffs before moving his way into the doorframe, quickly ignoring your protest. “It’ll just take a sec.” 

You’re too horrified to realize that he doesn’t even take two steps before swatting the air with his free hand. “The fuck? Did you just put on perfume?” 

“Yeah,” you stare with hesitance, trying damn hard to not glance towards a certain hiding place. “Don’t want you judging if it doesn’t smell all nice.” 

“Since when have I ever judged your room? Fuck, turn the TV down.” 

Is Yoongi on the ground next to the bed? Or did he somehow fit under? There’s a small chance your brother will even look there but if he does and Yoongi’s visible you’re gonna perish.

Grabbing the remote with eyes unfocused, you simply retort, “You judge everything.” 

“Touché. But you’re good at this stuff so I need an opinion.” 

Oh, fuck. He’s sitting on your mattress? 

Ironically—hilariously—that’s better than him sitting on one of the armchairs.

Fucking hell, you’re gonna need ten medics. 

As you feel like sinking right through the floor, your sibling opens the laptop settled on his legs. Eyes glued to the screen, he beckons, “Look real quick.” 

Just do it. Don’t act like there’s anything wrong. Don’t give away the fact that he’s severely close to his friend, or the fact that your cunt is throbbing so hard it’s starting to pang.

Body twinging with guilt and paranoia, you gingerly sit just close enough to him, leaning away when you see nothing but the Sun on his computer. “Dude, the brightness.” 

“Sorry. I got all the lights on next door.” 

“And you say my TV habits are to blame for our house bill.” 

“Damn, chill! Okay, so did I do this right?” 

You tilt your head and look where he’s pointing: one chart amongst a smattering of graphs and analytics. “What are you trying to show?”

“Correlation between quarterly earnings and model type.” 

“I mean, that seems pretty straightforward to me.” 

“Yes and no. We’re trying to gauge whether the newer shoe designs have the same longevity.”

Impossible. He should know the answer to that already. “Nothing will beat the OGs.” 

“I know,” he laughs. “Dunks are fucking untouchable right now.” 

“Right? Yoongi has like, fifty pairs.” 

“Huh?” 

Shit. 

“How’d you know?”

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Grasping for a ledge to latch onto, you remind him mid-freefall, “Bro, we give him two pairs every year. You haven’t noticed him wearing ones for every fit he has?” 

It’s not true. Well, the first part is true since your brother gets special privileges, being able to gift Yoongi an exclusive pair for every birthday and special holiday. 

But there’s no way the man wears enough to warrant you saying fifty. 

…Make that twelve medics. 

Your sibling is too quiet for comfort, but he ends up taking the bait. “I mean, maybe. Didn’t expect you to mention him is all.” He moves the cursor on the screen before thinking aloud, “Speaking of, I need to see if he ended up fu—” 

“It looks fine,” you interject. “Data is sound, but I would at least make a comparison with some of the older models around their same length of release.” 

“Good callout.” 

You’re glad that he’s a man of efficiency, because he moves to head out as soon as his question is answered. 

In fact, when you follow him to the door, it’s your curiosity that keeps him a bit longer. “Wait, why are you in charge of this? Isn’t your department…” 

“Yeah, it’s bullshit, dude,” he complains with a shut of his laptop. Nestling it against his hoodie, he explains, “But my partner is out sick, so I figured this would help.” 

Gotta hand it to your brother to be there if you need him. “That’s… really nice of you. Is this why you didn’t go with them?” 

He rubs his neck, a gesture you’ve been very familiar with for years. One he always does when he’s afraid to admit something. “Kinda. It’s due in the morning, but. I knew you weren’t doing anything, either.”

“Ah.” 

“I mean, this trip is cool and all, but holidays aren’t really…” 

“Our thing. Yeah.” 

As he mirrors your melancholic features, he gives a closed smile with no cheer. “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll leave you alone now.” 

“Go to sleep, dude. You’re pretty much done.” 

“Still need to make sure they all get back in one piece.” 

What? Why does he always take on everything alone? “I’ll stay up,” you offer. “You’re exhausted. Just sleep and send that thing in tomorrow.” 

After a moment of contemplation, he surprisingly relents with a yawn and a nod, and you wonder if he’ll follow through. 

For your own sanity, you hope he does. “Night.” You got through this surprise interruption unscathed, so if he would just go to sleep then everything will be—

“Wait.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your shades are open.” 

Spinning, you notice with fear that the curtains are still pulled to the side. Something both you and Yoongi must not have noticed in your haste. 

Oh. 

That’s right next to your bed. 

If Yoongi’s on the ground—

As your brother strides over, you try to stop him, “It’s fine!” 

He frowns over his shoulder. “What? No. You don’t want people creepin’ on you.” 

Your heart can’t keep a rhythm as he reaches the sliding door, pulling the curtains closed before glancing at the space next to your bed. 

What… What’s happening? Why’s he just standing there?

Voice tight, you ask, “You good?” 

“Yeah, I’m good…” Looking at you, he questions with a point, “When did you get that?”

You freeze, your heart pounding when you realize that Yoongi didn’t grab the jewelry pouch resting on the mattress. 

Upping the number of medics you need to fifteen, you flounder, 

“I— Got something at the jeweler.” Lamely waving one hand in the air, you feign normalcy as you just tell the truth. “When we all went together.” 

“You did?” He mercifully moves away from your bed then, heading back past you and towards your door. “Should’ve told me. I wanted to get something, too.” 

“It was a last second thing,” you tack on with a cringe, attempting to appear merely playful and not like your soul is leaving your mortal confines. 

“Ah, k. Well, I’m thinking of grabbing that Octomore I saw at the liquor store anyway. I can’t find it back home.” He finally makes his way to the exit, grabbing the knob with his free hand. “See you tomorrow.”

He closes the door with a soft click after you say goodbye.

And you let out the biggest breath you’ve ever held.

Holy shit. 

That was fucking close.

There’s no way he couldn’t hear your heartbeat bumping against your chest, right? Or did your body just give up entirely and flatline that entire time? 

“You talk about me like that?” 

Fliching, you clutch your chest before swerving around to battle Yoongi’s smugness with a glare. “You wish,” you whisper with bite, heart palpitations shaking your words on the way out. 

“Now I wanna know.” 

“Shut up.” Damn, your cunt really aches now with the adrenaline fading, and your face finally falters when you lean forward. “Fuck.” 

Yoongi’s there before you can blink, fully concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

“It hurts, baby,” you whimper. “I need you.” 

When he understands, a low curse shoots out. “Fuck, my condoms are in the room.”

“I have some.”

His eyebrows ascend. “You do?”

“Yeah,” you admit as you walk over to your suitcase. “Just in case we got to… Yeah.” 

“Same.”

You grab a packet from a hidden pouch before tossing it, and Yoongi catches it with ease before asking low, “You sure, babe?”

In return, you nod, because the ache is so overwhelming that you can’t think straight. All you need is the man next to the bed stripping quick, and you follow suit until he interrupts you with a soul-snatching kiss. 

Your hands are frantic as they grip his chest, his shoulders, the base of his hair. Breathing takes a backseat as you keep claiming his mouth, and he’s just as possessive with your lips as he grunts into your throat. 

“We gotta keep it down.”

“Mmhmm.” 

“Good girl.” 

After you slip into the bed, he’s close behind, kneeling while finally wrapping himself with deft fingers. 

Your body is thrumming with excitement as he positions himself between your legs, feeling comfort in his bare skin on yours while he pulls the covers over his back. 

A thought occurs to you as he whispers, “You ready?” 

And it’s how you can be anywhere in the world, in any situation, and yet feel so at home if he’s there. “Just for you,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with something more than yourself. 

He nods before reaching down, grabbing his cock to slide along your folds. “Breathe for me.” 

You nod, face scrunching as soon as he enters. 

As soon as Yoongi senses your discomfort, he stops, instead sliding fingers along your cunt before rubbing your swollen bud. 

“Missed you,” he admits, and you agree with your eyes as you fight back a moan. “So fucking much.” 

“Me, too.” You close fingers around his flexed biceps. “And I messed it all up.” 

You don’t really refer to anything specific. Because in your mind, you just messed things up in general. But Yoongi slowly shakes his head as he claims your lips, pleasuring your folds with a tenderness that blows your mind. 

“None of that,” he murmurs, and you swallow as he moves to insert his cock once more. 

You noticed with admiration that it’s much less of an intrusion this time, him slotting into your center with more ease and almost instant relief for your pulses. 

And just like that. 

He’s inside you. 

And your brother is right next door. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper, inexplicably on the verge of heightened euphoria already. “I’m—”

“Holy fuck.” 

“Yoongi, I—” You’re gonna come already. What the fuck you’re already gonna come? You knew you needed him to ease the ache but you didn’t expect just his ridges resting in your folds to be all it would take. 

“Doll—” 

“Hey!” 

Chills run through your veins, icing your heart over in one swoop. 

Because that was your brother. 

Yelling with a knock from the other side of the goddamn wall. 

…Did he hear you?

The universe can swallow you now.

Petrified and with one foot in the grave, you lock eyes with a Yoongi caught just as off-guard. 

What do you do? What do you do what do you do what do you do?

Blood sucked from every inch of your body, you simply yell back to your ceiling, 

“Yeah…?” 

“Getting food! You want anything?” 

Oh, what the fuck.

You’ve never experienced a more frightening rollercoaster. 

Relief is both fast and yet not enough to calm your racing heartbeat. Trying not to look at Yoongi’s growing grin you can absolutely sense, you shout, “No, I’m good!” 

“K!” 

Holy fuck. 

What in the fuck is happening right now!

“Seriously, check your phone once in awhile, geez.” 

“Good night!” you holler back in response, hoping, praying, begging that it’s the end of a conversation you never, ever wanna have again. 

When you think you hear your brother shut his door, your eyes finally seek Yoongi, who indeed breaks into a shit grin while you try your absolute hardest not to laugh in utter disbelief. 

Because what the fuck just happened! 

“Oh, my god,” you whisper before covering your wild smile with both hands, one laugh escaping your throat. 

Yoongi has to bury his head into your chest to stifle his own, and his body shakes over yours so deliciously that you feel like staying in this position forever.  

You almost cry from your muffled laughter, but it’s Yoongi that makes the next sound. 

And it is not quiet. 

“Baby,” you warn through your grin, and he digs his face deep into your neck while holding you close.

“Stop being so fucking cute,” he groans into your ear. “I might not make it, doll.” 

“Just stay like that.” 

“Uh uh.” He grunts when you laugh again, and he slightly breaks. “This is worse.”

When you chuckle at his predicament, he groans,

“Fuck.” 

“I’m not even doing anything!” you whisper with a smile, and he thoroughly disagrees with despair.

“Yes, you fucking are.”

You think you’re starting to get what he means, because with one twitch of his length, your jaw goes slack. “This—this feels really good.” 

He hisses before breathing onto your skin. “I’m gonna bust if I don’t move.” 

“Just a—little longer,” you gasp, straining your ears to hear any sounds from downstairs.

All you have to hear is the front door close. Once you hear that, you know the coast is clear and Yoongi can teach you all the lessons he wants. 

But holy fuck, this feels fantastic. 

“Babe—” 

“Hold—Hold on,” you breathe, your cunt thrumming around him with pulses so big you have to physically block yourself from coming. After being pulled back from orgasm multiple times tonight, the ache is once again making you crumble. 

But you hear it. 

The front door opening. 

Shutting after a few dreadful seconds. 

And Yoongi breaks down beautifully when you give him the tiniest go-ahead. 

“Fucking finally.” 

The way he rocks into you makes you moan so erotically that even you’re surprised at the sound, your whole body shoved up the bed and an arm flinging back to press against the headboard.  

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, body bouncing with his insistent strokes as he sets the pace at one-hundred from the start. 

And you don’t blame him in the slightest, widening your legs to give him all the room he needs to wreck your shit, eyes shut in bliss as you hand over control. 

When hot lips close over a nipple, you arch up with a whine, and his hands come around your sides to claw love lines in your back. 

“So fucking nice,” he growls, before sliding a tongue to your other breast, licking in a way that has you zooming to the edge of paradise. 

You’re close. You’re already so close and it’s gonna break you into pieces. “Yoongi!” 

And he seems to sense it because he coaxes you straight through to the end. “That’s it, doll,” he guides, spearing so far into you with his last command, 

“Fucking come.” 

And come you do, light shooting across your vision as your entire body finally erupts, quivering so beautifully violent underneath him. Nothing exists except how you feel—infinite, limitless, fulfilled. Colors fill where the brightness reigned, and you’re quite sure you’re sailing across a vast ocean of spinning stars. 

But your vision slowly returns, with blurred lines and an image of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

No. Not an image. 

Someone very real, and someone looking at you like they want nothing else. 

“Baby,” you plead, feeling the lust and desire and something even more dangerous rise back to the surface. Because you want more. You need more. “I want… I want—” 

He kisses you deep, and you grip onto his chains. “What do you want, love.” 

“You. Fuck me. Teach me. Do what you want, just”—you pull him in—“I need this—”

Your arms are gripped before they’re pinned above your head just like before, and Yoongi wastes no time in thrusting forward, claiming your lips before you let out a sob. 

His strokes are much harder, much rougher, and they’re exactly what you want. You don’t know when the hell your brother is coming back, so you want to make the most of whatever time you have. And this is exactly what you need. 

Sparks alight in your bones, you tug on his hair, grunting his name and suddenly clamping onto his hips like a vice. 

And he moans in a higher pitch before hissing, surprising you with a goad, 

“Just like that.” 

“Huh?”

“Tug on my shit,” he grits, humming with eyes shut when you yank his head to the side. “Fuck.” 

You’ve forgotten how much he actually likes that, since you apparently go for his hair regularly anyway. But you make it a point to pleasure another part of him, pulling him close and choking him with your other hand.

“More,” you command in his ear, and wings batter your stomach when his curve goes lopsided and his cock twitches in your cunt. 

“Turn around.” 

You groan in want, straining to flip when his cock slips out of your pulsing folds. When your ass comes around, you buck forward with a moan when there’s a sudden bloom of pain. And you whine to the headboard when Yoongi does it again. 

“This fucking ass.” 

You bury your face in the pillows when he takes your cheeks in large palms, molding them before pushing them apart to reveal a view that would make you incredibly shy. 

He lets out a half-grunt, half-hum as he grips your hips, hoisting them up before he grabs a pillow to slide under your belly. When you wiggle your ass, he huffs before slapping his cock against your folds, sliding inside with a frustrated sounding groan.

Pride bursts in your chest when you hear that. Because you’ve heard that one before, and it’s not true frustration. In fact, you’ve let that one out yourself—when you can’t fucking wait to get this man alone. 

Yoongi digs strong fingers into the folds at your hips, and you only get one warning in four words, 

“Bite that fucking pillow.” 

Your teeth close around the case for a single second before you’re open-mouthed, stroke after stroke after stroke making you a useless mess on rented sheets. You don’t even know if you’re saying your thoughts out loud or not, but they’re gibberish anyway, broken syllables and a repeating of his name—over and over and over again. 

Suddenly, a hand closes around your mouth, and Yoongi’s chains slide along your back when he hisses in your ear, 

“The fuck did I say?” 

You let out a high hum in response, completely forgetting that you had one job and you failed at it. But the way he still hasn’t stopped ramming into you makes you crumble on the bed, and you revel in this position of him folding you back and shutting you the fuck up. 

Your mouth is freed before your head is pushed down, and your teeth know what to do as you go straight for the pillowcase, your hand coming up to bunch more of the material inside—

Wait what’s—what’s he—oh, fuck! 

Before you know it, your hands are snatched up, pinned against your back as he launches into a furious pace. “Mmm!” 

“Teach you to think I’m not yours.” 

“B—”

“As if I don’t wanna give you my shit—”

“Fu—!” 

“—so you can walk around everywhere with it on.” 

You scream into the pillowcase, arms thumping onto the bed when he mercifully lets your hands go. Immediately, you brace yourself with sore arms while he tugs on your shoulder, bending you back again and showering you with praise. Like how you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, and how you’re taking his dick so well. 

You also have praise for him, but you’re very sure yours will come out as screams if you so much as let up off the cloth material. So you can only whine into cotton, tears streaming down your face in rivers. 

The point. You get it. You get it you get it you understand it so fucking well. 

Apparently, this is something you do say out loud, because you’re released back onto the mattress before Yoongi yanks himself out of your throbbing folds. 

Your body is being turned while your eyes struggle to refocus, drool sliding down your chin as you lay flat on your back again. But you can’t do anything about it because he’s already kissing the shit out of you, one hand on your head and the other forearm making a crater out of the mattress at your side. 

You look like a wreck, but your emotions fare far worse. 

Because Yoongi decides to switch up the pace, going slow enough to make you sob into soft lips rubbed raw.

Praise, reassurance, more praise. All of these things fall on your features and into your ears, and you hold onto him as if he’s your last lifeline. 

“God, I can’t wait to feel all of you.” 

And that’s when you break completely, knowing that your eyes are closed and knowing that he’s kissing you deep but seeing him and hearing him so clearly. 

You can’t believe you ever doubted him. A whole two days’ worth of self-loathing and regret floods out of your eyes, and your apologies come out in streams.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s on me.”

No, it’s not. All you had to do was ask. You didn’t need to assume shit and there’s no way he could’ve known what you felt unless you told him. 

When you give a vigorous shake of your head, fingers you adore clasp yours, and your hand is pressed into rumpled sheets next to your wet cheek. You’re so caught up and entirely whole that you don’t even realize where you end and he begins, don’t even register that you’re coming again because he’s already made you feel that fantastic. 

But he moans against your mouth before you feel his weight bear down on your chest, and you gently command into his damp strands, 

“Come for me, love.” 

At your whisper, Yoongi relinquishes, coming with force with a bite to your neck—as if that alone would brace himself against the torrent in his own core. Strong arms encase you as he shoves himself inside, and you feel the way he pulses again, and again. And again.

Then everything suspends in the night air. 

When he floats down from his high, his weight is a beautiful burden, and you nestle him into your sweaty chest. Not worried yet about when or how he has to leave, but instead showing him your feelings by running fingers through his hair.

Throat scratched, he tells you that he’s sorry, too.

To which you soothe with a soft, “Don’t be.”

Because you revealed a wound that still hasn’t healed, and he didn’t back away at the sight of it. Instead, he was only upset that it was there in the first place, and proceeded to try and fix it as best as he could.

Who does that? 

Certainly not someone that would hurt you, too.

Yoongi slowly props himself on an elbow to smooth a hand over your tired head. And even though his eyes twinkle with words, he doesn’t utter a single one. 

So neither do you, simply gazing up at your favorite stars and wondering how their beholder outshines every moon. 

“You did so well for me earlier, you know,” he finally says with admiration. “No way you’ve never done that before.”

You simply shake your head, eyes droopy but creased when he smirks in disbelief. 

“What are you doing to me?”

You wearily chuckle before playing with one of his chains, happily reminded that he really got you jewelry, too. 

“Please stay a little longer,” you wish in a wisp. 

And you feel comfort in his surefire, “I will.”

After a quiet, careful cleanup, Yoongi holds you close while you both listen to your TV in bed. 

Your brother had come back while you were both in the bathroom, and the two of you only looked at each other when you heard the next door over close. 

A hushed conversation determined that Yoongi would only stay for a few more minutes, but neither of you bring it up when a whole seventeen of them fly by. 

Instead, he tells you that he knew your brother didn’t do holidays, but he didn’t know you felt the same way about them, too.

You say it’s one of the things you have most in common, but you do kinda want things to be different. Happier. Very much unlike how you felt over the last eight years or so.

“I want them to be memorable in a good way,” you sigh into his bare chest. Content, you realize, “Guess this is a pretty great start.”

Your shoulder is squeezed before you hear a rasp, “Sit up real quick.” 

“Hmm?” When you push yourself upward, Yoongi slowly situates himself against the headboard, and you don’t know where this is… headed… 

He just took off a chain.

“Wait, what are you…” Butterflies fluttering against your ribcage, your breath catches when he drops it into your hand. 

“Keep it.” 

Feeling his warmth lingering on the thin links, you question with everything you have, “…Why?” 

Yoongi simply shrugs. “Just something I wanted to give you a long time ago.” 

“But you already gave me that necklace,” you stutter out, “And apparently went through all that trouble.” 

“Trust me,” he counters, pointing while still planting his hand on the mattress. “You gave me a lot more trouble right before I put that on you the first time.” 

Oh. 

Remembering the night you took him by surprise, you definitely agree with that. 

Speaking of surprises.

“I, umm. I have something for you, too.” 

He blinks twice. “No way?”

Nodding, your smile is big when you slip out of bed, going into your bag and getting out the one thing you bought so far. 

When you hand Yoongi a very familiar pouch, you watch with glee as he opens it, hoping that he’ll like the bracelet with links similar to most of his chains. 

With warmth in your chest, you notice that it best matches the one he just gave you. 

“You weren’t the only one that bought something,” you admit as he looks at you with incredulity. “I, umm. I saw you looking at that and grabbed it. Before we all left that day.” 

“You did that? For me?” 

With just a touch of sorrow, you confess, “I almost kept it for myself after all the… Yeah. But it’s yours. If you want it. Obviously, you can return it if you—” 

He kisses your cheek before whispering, “Thanks, doll.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I used to have one like this.” 

“What happened to it?” 

He lays it on his fingers while recalling, voice low, “Think it got stolen. But it’s all good.” 

“If someone steals that one I’m coming for them.” 

A huff. “I wanna see that.” 

“Hey now. This wasn’t cheap, punk.” You gently take his wrist, putting on the bracelet as well as you can with your nails—and shushing his playful roasting when you struggle. When you finally clasp it on, you hold up his arm with a smile. “Look! Now we match.” 

He looks at you with eyes that give you the shivers, his expression one that you wanna sear into your memories forever.

And you can’t believe you’ve been so stupid. “I really am sorry,” you apologize with a heavy heart, cradling his fingers in yours. “I should’ve just trusted you.”

“I get why you don’t.”

Your chest pangs as you close your hold. “Stop. I’ll work on it. Okay?” 

“Me, too.”

This man doesn’t need to be bogged down by what affected you before. Besides, he’s miles above whatever quicksand you found yourself in the last time, so there’s not even a reason to compare.

You can do it. If you can try thinking differently about the holidays, maybe this can be dealt with the same way.

Especially with Yoongi. 

…As long as you can keep whatever this is with him up.

It’s reached that point: the one where you both know a line is approaching and you can’t pass it. 

He’s gonna have to leave soon.

So you hold his hand tighter before both of you peel off the covers, getting up and slowly making your way to the door with his lips secured on yours.

“You okay?” he asks when he grabs his dress shirt to sling on, and when you nod, he nods his head before looking at his buttoning.

You watch, silent, as he puts the rest of his things on, wondering if he expected things to go this way. Because you certainly didn’t, and you couldn’t be happier. 

After all, you got to see a side of Yoongi that you had never seen before. Seeing him take complete control, painting his face even darker shades, watching as enjoyed your reactions…

Wait a minute. 

Hold on a dang second!

Eyes narrowed, you pin him with a glare as he finally finishes putting on his shoes. “Hey, wait…” 

“Huh?”

“You wanted to teach me that you were mine… But I never even got my turn. Shouldn’t we have started with me?” 

Oh, that sneaky man.

He grins so smug that you wanna wipe the whole curve off his face, and his wink makes you gasp before whispering in indignation,

“You little—!”

When he bobs his shoulders in quiet mirth, he enjoys the tiny pout you give. “It wouldn’t’ve lasted long anyway.”

“Now you’re just rude.” 

His lip bite is so handsome that you almost miss the dash of shyness. 

Or was that your imagination?

“Maybe next time, doll.”

Ugh. You huff. “Fine.”

Yoongi slides the door open before checking outside. When the area seems to be clear, he turns to give you a quick kiss before making his great escape, and you watch with awe as he silently makes his way down. 

And to think this is the same guy you had heard stories about back then. Behavior as lethal and punchy as a shot of whiskey but his head matured like fine wine.

You slide the door shut with your head full of thoughts.

Eyes going from the chain in your hand, to the wall that separates you from your brother, you suddenly come up with an idea. 

“What did he want again?”

“I think he said Octo-something,” you wonder to yourself, scouring the liquor bottles in front of you while Namjoon and Seokjin search with equal movements.

With all of your big coats taking up the tiny local store, you muse that it may look a bit silly. Or intimidating. Or both.

“He said Octomore,” Yoongi corrects from a few paces away. And your blood runs cold at Jimin’s glance behind him before he smoothly adds, “Pretty sure he would’ve said that, anyway.”

All the medics. You’re just gonna need all of them.

“That’s it,” you concur before letting out a huff. “There are so many bottles, what the hell?”

Namjoon suddenly straightens and leans to the side. “Wait, that’s a scotch, right, Yoongi?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, then why are we—” Your eyes follow as the man strides down to the front of the aisle, checking the signs before spotting what he needed to. “Over here!”

Everyone follows him to the shelves labeled Scotch, with Jimin breaking off to see what Taehyung’s looking at under the Wine sign.

If they buy a bottle, there’s no way it’s not finished by the afternoon. 

Once in the correct place, you notice that there are three Octomore choices, all black or grey cylinders with neat branding. 

Great. 

Seokjin’s quick to ask, “Well, which one?” 

“Hmm.” You think hard about what your brother mentioned before, and finally remember after a few seconds, “He didn’t say, but he said he can’t find it back home.”

Yoongi suddenly rotates one of the containers before his question is full of surprise, “They have this here?” 

“What is that?”

“The twelve point two.” He doesn’t elaborate, but his eyes are confident. “It’s this one.” 

“If you’re sure. How much is it?”

“Too much. But we’ll split it like you said.”

“Okay. Let’s hurry so Hobi doesn’t have the car running too long.”

“K.”

When you both leave the aisle first, you miss the look that Jin shares with Namjoon. 

Your brother’s yell is already worth it.

“What! When did y’all get this?”

“When you and Kook were still snoring.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

You speak up while an argument suddenly bursts, “You said something about it last night, and I figured, why the hell not? Eight years is long enough to go without a real gift.”

“But how did you know which one?”

“You can’t find that one anywhere,” Yoongi fills in, and your brother smiles at him before looking down at the bottle with soft eyes. 

“Damn. Thank you.”

“You wanna open it? We can all try some.”

You’re met with laughs from both guys, and they give each other a knowing look before your brother shakes his head.

“Y’all would hate this.”

“Really? Why?”

“You know what they say,” he shrugs, going to the kitchen island before popping open the can. “About fucking around and finding out.” 

Something about that statement makes you hot under your cheeks, and you contain your mischievous smile as you slide eyes to Yoongi. 

Who, unsurprisingly, is fighting back a look of his own.

“Will I really hate it?” you question him as the conversation in the living room fills into the kitchen. 

He shrugs. “It’s all subjective, but. You’ll see.”

And see you do three minutes later, with you wincing and coughing as soon as you sip. 

It tastes like nothing you’ve ever drank before. Why are you tasting rubbing alcohol and firewood? Why are you licking a dying campfire with fruit splattered on top?

You must look thoroughly disgusted because everyone is suddenly laughing, and you slowly shake your head before handing the glass to your brother.

“Worst gift ever,” you insult through a wince, getting more reactions and bobbing shoulders.

“Best gift ever.” Your brother sniffs the scotch before humming. “So good.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy.”

When he looks grateful, you think this can be the new tradition instead: him getting a shitty whiskey and you telling him how horrible his taste is. 

And maybe. Just maybe.

You and Yoongi can stand much closer next season.

You still cannot believe last night happened with no repercussions. After a full last day of the trip, you’re still expecting something to blow. But nothing does. 

However. 

When everyone is enjoying the dinner that Yoongi helped Seokjin cook, Taehyung goes to lean on the wall beside you, voice low as he holds his plate, 

“Heard you had some happy holidays after all.”

Watching the other boys chat and laugh around the living room, you shrug before feigning a sigh. “I mean, as much as I could.” Turning, you apologize, “Sorry about your leg, by the way.” 

He laughs under his breath, and you shoot him a look before his smile turns sly. 

“Don’t even worry about that.”

And your heart stops as he goes to whisper in your ear,

“Jimin and I came back when your brother left. You thought he left you in the house alone?”

You freeze.

The front door.

That’s why it took awhile to close.

Your best friend sounds downright devious as he speaks again, and you can positively say you’ve never heard him like this before, 

“I gotta say… I get it, babe.” 

He smirks while looking away.

“Y’all sound fucking hot in bed.” 

-

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fin. :) 

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how was ittt !! 💌 would you like to buy me a 🍊?

A/N: AHAHAHA SO... how did it go? how did the special that shouldn’t have ever happened turn out? lmfao i really hope you all liked this one. if not, i am so so sorry and you can yell at me. if you liked it, yell at everyone that sent in messages about the window scenario including window anon pfft. also, nicki got the gift of his chains right !! also octomore 12.2 is really desserty!  A/N 2: made a separate blog just for 3tan if you wanna follow @threetangerines​ <3 it’s 3tan unfiltered, so any absolutely filthy asks you would like to send, go ahead and let loose over there! also, the kofi is for any support you would like :D pls don’t feel pressured unless you truly wanna support me in that way and if you’re in a good position to. i appreciate anything i receive there!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[drawballa]

Grade "A" Love - 2023 Christmas Special

FULL COMIC: HERE!

[here2bbtstrash]

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’. 

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. 

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space. 

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back. 

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume. 

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.” 

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit. 

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

[jjungkookislife]

Lonely Night

♡ pairing: hfth!jungkook x f. reader

♡ genre: established relationship, fluff, [18+]

♡ summary: It's your first night alone without Jungkook at your side.

♡ wc: 2.2k

♡ warnings: food mention, mention of spiraling

♡ date: January 26, 2024

♡ series masterlist

Winter break ends faster than you realize. Jungkook and you hadn’t had a chance to see the house Grandmother Jeon had gifted him. 

“Mom!” Jungkook whines with a pout on his pretty pink lips.

You giggle as you take the second large bag of food she hands you.

“We have more than enough,” Jungkook insists as a third, smaller bag was pressed to his chest.

“You can never have enough,” Aera insists as she walks you to the door, where Seokjin and Jimin wait in the car.

“Share with your friends,” Aera waves as Jimin takes the bag from you while Jungkook hugs his mother tightly. “And call me when you get there.”

“I will, Mom. I’ll see you as soon as I can, okay?” Jungkook kisses his mother’s cheek and takes a step back as you approach.

“Oh, sweetheart! It was so nice meeting you,” Aera is nearly in tears as she wraps you up in a tight hug. “Call any time! Come visit whenever.”

“I will. I promise,” you say as she gives you one more squeeze. Dae stands on the porch, waving at the two of you as Aera cries. 

“Honey, the kids will be back before long,” Dae comforts her, rubbing her back as she places her head on his chest. 

“Momma Jeon,” Jimin hollers. “We love you!”

Aera laughs wetly through her tears, waving at Jimin and Seokjin as you and Jungkook climb in the car. Seokjin has his playlist loaded, and ready to go and Jungkook is quick to hand you an earbud the moment your seatbelt clicks.

When Seokjin pulls out of the Jeon’s driveway, he starts belting Christmas carols again.

“Just because the holidays ended, doesn’t mean the spirit has passed,” Seokjin states firmly as he keeps his gaze on the road. 

Jimin slumps in his seat, his noise-canceling headphones doing their job, a present from you and Jungkook. 

In the car in front of you, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok pass around snacks from their parents. Mrs. Park and Mrs. Jeon made them a special batch for the trip back home and the men were digging in greedily. 

“Next time I’ll drive us up here,” Jungkook assures you as he laces his fingers with yours. 

“We carpool!” Seokjin interrupts, his eyes locked on Jungkook’s in the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, sir!” Jungkook responds before giggling beside you. Seokjin rolls his eyes but smiles fondly as he catches your gaze. He winks at you before his eyes return to the road, and he belts out a high note rivaling Mariah Carey’s.

Impressive.

“Are you sure I can’t take you home?” Seokjin asks for the third time as he helps Jungkook unload the trunk. 

Jimin got dropped off first a few minutes ago, and now Seokjin was at Jungkook’s apartment. 

“It’s no big deal,” Seokjin assures you, but you shake your head. 

“Jungkook and I are gonna split Momma Jeon’s food,” you grin as Jungkook takes his luggage to the porch and returns for yours. 

“Alright,” Seokjin nods as he hugs you. “I’ll text when I get home.”

You return his hug before Jungkook joins in, squeezing the both of you before Seokjin licks Jungkook’s cheek. 

“Ugh!” Jungkook wipes his cheek with the back of his hand. “Must you?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I brushed.”

You laugh as Seokjin gets in his car and drives away. Jungkook flips him off before turning to you.

“I call dibs on the brownie bites,” he smirks. 

“Hey! Seojun made those for me!” You exclaim but Jungkook is already running to the front door to claim his prize while you run after him, laughing into the home.

Jungkook clings to you as you head for the door. A pout on his lips as he snuggles into your shoulder. 

“Are you sure you have to go?” He asks for the third time in five minutes. 

You’ve divided the brownie bites, most of the leftovers, and stolen two of his sweatshirts that you stuffed in your suitcase. 

“I have to get back to my dorm room,” you remind him as he kisses your cheek. 

The last time you were in his apartment you were still fake dating. Now that you were dating for real, it felt more comfortable for you to laze around with him. Plus, you got to cuddle in his bed with him for a little while, but now you had to head back to the dorm. 

Laundry was calling, and you had to prepare for the start of the semester in a few days. 

“I know,” Jungkook sighs in resignation as he takes your suitcase and wheels it onto the porch. You slide your shoes on while he pockets his keys and helps you out of his apartment.

A few minutes later, he rolls your suitcase to your dorm. You thank him with a kiss on his lips. 

“I’ll let you get settled, baby,” Jungkook smiles as he hugs you again. “I’ll text when I’m home. We can have breakfast tomorrow.”

“I’d love that,” you grin as you kiss his lips again before he leaves you be. 

You get in the shower minutes later. However, it’s not until you’re getting dressed in one of Jungkook’s sweaters and a pair of comfy pajama pants that the realization hits you. 

You miss him. 

You spent nearly three weeks sleeping in his arms, and now you were in your bed alone, staring at the ceiling. The semester hasn’t even started yet. How would you get through it?

Sighing, you do your best to fall asleep.

Hours later, you’re still tossing and turning. You’re miserable as you huff and stare blankly at the ceiling. You didn’t think it would be this difficult to sleep without Jungkook beside you. Even his snoring would lull you to bed tonight.

You love the way he looked when he slept. His cute lips were still in a pout as he snored beside you. His body was like a furnace when he wrapped around you, always snuggled into your side for warmth and comfort. 

How long would it take you to fall asleep without him? How long could you go without him at your side? 

This was something you’d have to get used to though. You were still early into your relationship, and your dorm room was yours for the semester. You couldn’t abandon it to run to Jungkook’s arms every night. You didn’t want to rush but you also missed being around him day in and day out. 

Your phone rings on the nightstand where you left it to charge before you showered. You turn on your side and reach for it, not surprised to see your boyfriend calling. 

“Hey baby,” he says softly once you answer. He’s in bed with the covers up to his shoulder, but you can see a bit of skin when he pulls his pillow closer. 

“Hey,” you greet him, ignoring the sadness in your chest. 

“In bed already?” He asks with a teasing smile. 

“It’s cold,” you laugh as you pull the covers closer. 

“Is that my sweater?” He laughs when he spots the logo on your chest. You rush to cover it with your blanket, and Jungkook laughs harder. 

“I may have borrowed it,” you explain. “Without asking.”

“It looks better on you anyway,” Jungkook smiles as he takes in your soft smile and the way your eyes sparkle even in the dim light of your dorm room. 

“I think so too,” you stick your tongue out at him, and he does the same. Your heart flutters and your stomach fills with butterflies. He was your boyfriend now. Yours. The thought makes you nearly swoon but then the sadness seeps in. Slowly first, and then it seems to seep into your bones until it fills your very core. 

Suddenly, your throat burns like an inferno as you try to swallow the sickly feeling of loneliness. Were you being ridiculous missing him so soon? Was this too much too fast? 

“Darling?” Jungkook whispers with concern etched on his forehead in between his furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie, clearing your throat. 

Jungkook can tell from your tone and your sudden change in demeanor that you’re lying. 

“Talk to me, baby,” he encourages gently. 

“It’s dumb,” you try once more to wave off his concern as you sniffle. Dammit. 

Jungkook frowns. “Nothing you could ever say is dumb. You don’t have to tell me if you truly don’t want to, but I am here for you if you wanna talk.”

You nod, biting your lower lip as you debate telling him. 

A heavy sigh slips past your lips. “I miss you.”

Jungkook’s taken aback. That’s not what he expected you to say, but only because he was sure you were ending things between you now that you were home. Okay, maybe he had been spiraling a little before he called you but only because he missed you desperately. His empty bed wasn’t the same without you in it and he didn’t want to overstep by asking you to stay the night or a few nights at his side. 

Hell, he’d ask you to move in if he was sure he wouldn’t get shut down. 

“I miss you too, darling. That’s actually why I called,” he admits bashfully. 

“Oh?”

Jungkook nods, his hair falling over his eyes. You smile at him through your phone. 

“I was wondering if you could sleep at my place tonight,” he pauses. “O-or I could go to your dorm.”

You remain silent as the fluttering in your chest grows rapidly.

“Or not, if you’re not comfortable,” Jungkook rushes when you don’t respond immediately. “We could just forget I said anything.”

“Jungkook,” you say his name softly with a smile. 

“Come pick me up in ten minutes, okay?”

Jungkook nods excitedly with a smile. “Yeah! Totally! I’ll be right over, babe.”

“Drive safe, Koo. I’ll grab a bag of my things and wait for you, okay?”

“Yes, baby. I’ll see you in a bit,” Jungkook blows you a kiss before he hangs up. 

You kick the covers off of you as you grab a duffel bag and pack your things.

A second later your phone dings.

[Kookie ����🍪🖤] babe, pack some extra clothes

[Kookie 🖤🍪🖤]  I cleared a drawer for you in my room 🥺

You squeal in excitement! Why was your boyfriend the cutest? You want to laugh and cry at the same time but you sniffle and respond to his text before running around your room to pack your bag.

Ten minutes later, you meet Jungkook at the entrance of your dorm. He smiles brightly when he sees you.

“Hi, baby,” he greets you with a kiss on your cheek before he takes your bag and slings it over his left shoulder. His tattooed hand reaches for yours as you greet him.

“Sorry for getting you out of bed so late, darling,” Jungkook apologizes as he opens the car door for you and waits until you’re buckled in to shut it. He opens the back door and places your bag on the seat before shutting the door and jogging to the driver’s side.

“Jungkook,” you grab his hand before he starts the car. You wait until he meets your gaze. “I missed you. I don’t think I could have slept without you beside me and I’m glad you called. I’m glad you came to get me. Don’t apologize.”

The smile on Jungkook’s face makes your heart flutter as he cups your face and leans forward to capture your lips with his. The kiss is slow, unrushed, and passionate as he deepens it and his hand grips your thigh. You moan softly when he tugs lightly on your bottom lip before releasing it and ending the kiss.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers with one last peck to your lips. 

Jungkook folds your clothes as you get ready for bed. He places them in the drawer he’s cleared for you with a smile and a flutter of his heart. He’s got a purple toothbrush in the bathroom for you beside his black one. 

When you climb into his bed, he lets you cuddle your favorite stuffed animal of his. 

“Good night, baby,” you whisper as he wraps his arm around your waist and the purple bat you’ve chosen to cuddle in front of you. 

Jungkook kisses your shoulder, his hand gently rubbing your hip. 

“Good night, darling,” he replies. And it is a good night. A very good night as he sleeps soundly beside you. 

In the morning he’ll wake up well-rested with you snuggled in his chest, your leg twined with his and he’ll watch you sleep for a while. His fingers will gently brush your hair out of the way, and he’ll trace the curve of your lips with his thumb.

Jungkook will wonder how he’ll sleep tonight without you at his side, how he’ll sleep this peacefully with you nestled in your dorm room.

However, one day he’ll wake beside you and know the two of you never have to part again. 

For now, he’ll focus on your time spent together in bed, on your soft breaths and cute face pressed into his chest. He’ll rub your back gently, and picture the rest of your lives together. 

[kpopfanfictrash]

Jingle All the Way Collaboration

Coming your way this holiday season! Whether you've been naughty or nice, you'll have seven fics to unwrap by @kpopfanfictrash , @leahsfavefics , @kithtaehyung , @yoonia , @cybrsan and @sugaurora.

All second chance romance. All holiday themed. All attempting to utilize the same quote: "The holidays aren't so bad with you around." Come down the chimney, embrace your inner Vixen, and warm up this season with the Jingle All the Way collab!

Content Creator: all amazing banners are made by the truly spectacular @kithtaehyung!!

(Links to be added as fics are posted)

Title: The Ten Days of Ex-Mas

Author: @kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; hockey player au, second chance au, oh noo there was only one bed

Summary: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Posting Date: December 19th, 2023

Title: All I Want for Christmas is Joon

Author: @leahsfavefics

Pairing: art historian!Namjoon x art historian!reader (f)

Rating/genre: m (18+) angst, fluff, smut, second chance au

Summary: You have had a rough year following the mutual break up with your grad school sweetheart. On a whim, you book a spontaneous trip to Europe for the holidays to help get you out of the funk you’re in and assert your independence. It would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that you keep bumping into your ex boyfriend.

Posting Date: December 21st, 2023

Title: Back to December

Author: @kithtaehyung

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; brother’s best friend au, wedding au, second chance au

Summary: Ever since you left town to pursue your dreams, life has fast forwarded into one big blur. so when you hit pause to attend your brother’s wedding exactly three years later, your brain instinctively resets and rewinds. because you have to spend it with the very person that had been there at the start. the one person you regret leaving behind.

Posting Date: TBD

Title: A Christmas Fix

Author: @yoonia

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+), secret baby au, s2l au, fake dating au on the side (more on that later)

Summary: One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

Title: Everwinter

Author: @kithtaehyung

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; ex-fwb 2 lovers au, second chance au

Summary: You told him you loved him, and that was a mistake. Because years later, you both meet up with your old friend group for a holiday trip, and neither of you have forgotten that.

Posting Date: TBD

Title: Miracle of the Season

Author: @cybrsan

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating/Genre: M (18+); angst, fluff, smut; angel au, second chance au

Summary: Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, a familiar face pops up and you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

Posting Date: December 29th, 2023

Title: A Porn Star's Guide to the Holidays

Author: @sugaurora

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader(f)

Rating/Genre: M (18+); smut; second chance au

Summary: Jung Hoseok was your first love, a relationship that ended only because your post-high school dreams led you down two very different paths. Yours brought you to Jeon Jungkook, an innovative talent agent promising to produce the most well-loved adult entertainment artists of the era. And that’s how you became an erotic market darling, doing just about everything from outdoor gangbangs to golden showers and a long list of kinks in between.

Ten years later and you’re ready to find a new path, celebrating your exit from the business with one last appearance at the biggest adult industry convention of the year. Only when you arrive, you find yourself unexpectedly face-to-face with your high school sweetheart. Suddenly, you’re forced to confront where the years have taken you and feelings that may have never quite gone away.

What’s a former porn star to do?

Posting Date: TBD

[kookwashere]

A december kind of love

paring: reader x jungkook, wife/husband

sum: you and jungkook have been married for almost a year and this is your first christmas coming up together as a newly married couple, how will you both spend the start of your holiday season?

warnings: cute nicknames, smut later on in story (big dick jk and unprotected) explicit language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of oc's trauma (r*pe and abuse), story in lowercase on purpose, please keep these in mind.

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the mistletoe, the little piece green plucked from nature decorated with holiday berries and a bow, hanging in front of a door.

you're arms were wrapped around his neck, his hands resting on your waist, staring in each others eyes in the doorway.

"it's a mistletoe, pretty girl, you know what that means?" he asked, his voice soft.

"of course i know what it means, what about it?" you whispered to him.

he leaned in and kissed your plump red lips. "you know, i've dreamed about spending this holiday for you for as long as i can remember." he said while pulling back

you smiled and played with his hair while looking into his eyes, "it's going to be a good season, huh?" you said.

"the best." he said while leaning in once again to kiss you under the mistletoe.

you smiled and kissed him back again, then your little niece came running in the room. "ooooh! mommy, aunt ____ and uncle kook are kissing again!" you heard her little voice and pulled away from jungkook.

"what are you doing haley? weren't you with your mom?" you asked bending down to her level. "mommy doesn't know i got out of the room...well i guess she does now that i called for her..." she realized. you just giggled and came back up to jungkook.

haley's mom come out, your older sister. "____, sorry she got out, i really tried to keep an eye on her but i got a call and turned around for one second and-" she started rambling "hey, hey- don't worry, i love my little haley." you said and smiled down at her. "and i love her too." jungkook said as he picked up haley in his arms and blew raspberries on her cheek, her cute little giggles filled the room.

"wow, i can't believe it's december already, i feel like all the months went by so fast, i cannot be the only one." you said with your hands on your hips. "no, i agree, it felt like yesterday i asked you to marry me." jungkook said with a smile on his face

"oh please, that felt like 1910." you said jokingly. "did it really feel that long ago?" he asked. "well, i was joking but in some ways it kind of does, i can already see your grey hair koo." you teased, fingers curling around his raven locks.

"what?? no, are you serious?" he panicked and ran to the bathroom to see. "koo, baby- i was just kidding, your still my handsome late 20 year old hubby." you said and pecked his cheek.

"shit, don't do that to me baby, you know wasting money on hair dye is not my thing." he breathed out with his hand over his heart.

you giggled and continued to put up more decorations around your house, your sister was just staying over for the holidays, "trust me, i know jungkook." you said walking away, still giggling.

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you and jungkook were lying in your shared bed, your head resting against his bare chest, his arm around your waist and hand resting on your hip, his other arm under his head, you drew circles on his chest in a pattern that he liked.

"i can't believe it, our first christmas coming up as a married couple." he mumbled out. you nodded and smiled. "crazy, isn't it?" you said against his chest. "i wonder if like 5 or 7 years from now, or whenever, we'll have our own little family, them jumping on our bed christmas morning saying 'santa came!'...i don't know, it's kind of stupid isn't it?" he chuckled.

"no koo, it's not stupid at all, i'm just shocked because i thought you said you didn't want kids." you looked up at him.

"yeah in my junior year of high school silly, but now that i met the love of my life and matured, that's my second big dream." he looked down back at you. "your second? what's your first?" you asked curiously.

"to spend the rest of my life with you until we are buried next to each other 6 feet underground." he smiled.

"hmmm, you little romantic dork." you flicked his forehead. "ow! what was that for?" he said putting his hand on his forehead.

"it's my love language if you forgot, i thought you knew that!" you pouted. "nah i didn't forget baby, just startled me." he chuckled and looked into your eyes. "do you remember my love language?" he asked softly.

"no i don't, do you maybe mind showing me?" you said just as softly back. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and slowly leaned in, connecting your lips.

your hands found the back of his neck and the kiss melting ever so softly, it just felt so right. he knew he was getting carried away, you both did, but you both needed this right now.

"kook- haley is right next to us in the other room..." you said breaking the kiss. "i guess you'll have to be quiet then, yeah?" he said kissing down your neck, sliding his hands up your night gown.

you held onto his shoulders as he kissed right between your breasts, his hands discarding the night gown.

he came back up to you but his fingers didn't, no, his fingers went down, under your panties, finding your excitement that came from that heated kiss, and just him himself.

"already wet? we just kissed baby, how cute..." he teased. "stop jungkook, please..." you said while gripping his shoulders tighter.

he kissed you again, tongues interlocking, his fingers sliding into your entrance, you moaned but you quickly stopped when you remembered haley or your sister could wake up any moment.

jungkook slid another finger in, shortly a second one, his index finger, middle finger and ring finger all in there. "gotta stretch you out again, it's been awhile." he groaned out. you moaned at his words. "you liked that huh? you dirty girl..." he teased sexily. "kook, g-gonna-" you couldn't finish your sentence because he pulled his fingers out. "i don't think so, cmere." he said and flipped you onto your fours. he quickly took off his boxers, grabbing his heavy length and slapping it against your ass cheek.

"i don't have a condom, is this okay?" he asked quietly. "yes, fuck jungkook, just please put it in." you whined desperately. he bit his lip and lined up his member, sliding it in easily because of your wetness.

"oh my fucking god, fuck baby..." you heard from behind you, your hands pressed against the headboard, moaning as quiet as you can.

his thrusts started to get meaner, but still gentle with you. your moans were started to get louder. "shhh, i should've put my cock in your mouth before to teach you what it's like to be quiet, you disobedient girl." he slapped your ass while thrusting into you. "i-im sorry, i-i- oh my god... i'm trying..." you moaned out, your hand cupping over your mouth to try and be quiet. "mmm." he moaned out, each thrust against you, your ass rippled against him.

"yeah? you like this huh? i do too, i fucking love it, i fucking love you." he said moaning. "i- fuck! i love you too." you whined put. "i'm gonna cum baby, can i cum inside? can i cum inside your tight little pussy?" he said, his thrusts losing that fast steady pattern. "fuck, please jungkook..." you said about to lose it. you felt a pressure in your belly, your eyes rolling back while letting out the sluttiest, beautiful, hottest moan jungkook has heard. just a few seconds after, jungkook came inside you with a loud groan and a strong grip on your ass.

you felt over, breathing heavily, jungkook doing the same. after a few minutes he got up with a warm towel, gently cleaning you both up, with the bed.

"go pee baby." jungkook said gently patting your thigh. you groaned, you were so comfy though. "okay, stay here." you said wrapping a towel around your body. "of course." he smiled tiredly. you went to the bathroom and came back, and joined jungkook in his open arms.

"thank you." you whispered while hugging him. "no, thank you." he said back, hugging you even tighter.

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you woke up in the morning, and yawned, looked over to your side to see your husband beside you. "hey baby, good morning." you whispered, pecking his forehead. he's out of it. you giggled seeing him snore like a beast." you got out of bed, and went over to your full sized mirror, seeing all the love marks jungkook left on your body. your neck, your breasts, your thighs. you sighed, you didn't sigh because you were mad, fuck, you felt like a canvas that was painted by the best artist. you sighed because these marks were good, unlike previous ones you had.

"baby, what's wrong?" you heard a deep voice behind you. "oh good morning! it's nothing." you said looking at him and smiling. "i know when something is wrong, tell me, please." he said holding both of your hands. you hesitated a moment, looking into his eyes.

you sighed giving in. "do you remember i told you the relationship with my father was not good, at all?" you asked tilting your head. "you mentioned it a few times, what's wrong?" he said squeezing your hands.

"when i was 9, my father was always out, he went to clubs, he drinked, cheated on my mom numorous times, it was like that every night. he would come home and throw me and my sister in a closet, locking us in there until we 'learned our lesson'." you looked down your lap. "he burned cigars on our skin, he slapped our mother right infront of us, he threw us and slapped us aswell, it was like that until one night, he was super drunk, more than usual, my sister and mom were already locked in a closet, god knows what happened to them, i was playing with the only barbie i had. i remember him randomly grabbing my arm, throwing me on the bed..then..." you couldn't finish the sentence.

"i'm so sorry, i knew i should have told you earlier but i thought you would think of me differently and then-" you cried "hey, ___, baby- it's okay, shh, your okay baby." he said and pulled you to his chest. "that's why im so close with my sister, just a couple years after that we found out our mom had died and our dad eventually was put in jail...my sister was the one that took care of me, she was always there for me, that's why i'm trying to do the same for her right now." you said, still crying but not as much.

"awww baby...," he whispered. "i don't think any differently of you, if anything...i think your so brave, your such a strong, intelligent, brave woman, that's a reason i fell in love with you, more than you would ever know." he whispered connecting your foreheads.

you smiled and hugged him. "i love you jungkook, i love you so much." you said in his neck.

"i love you more, ____."

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you were still decorating the christmas tree when you realized you forgot to put the star on top, how silly of you. you couldn't even fucking reach the top. "jungkook?" you yelled. "can you help me put the star on the tree?" he came almost immediately, "don't worry, i got you." he smiled.

"thank you." you stepped back so he could work his magic. the star lit up on the tree and it really did pull all of it together. haley came running into the room. "mommy, look! it's a star!" she said with a big toothy smile. "sure is haley, isn't it beautiful?" your sister said. "yes! it's so beautiful like me!" she said confidently.

all three of you giggled agreeing. "i have a really good feeling this is going to be a good christmas and that 2024 is going to come with wonderful things." you said to your sister and jungkook. "i agree." your sister nodded while smiling, staring at the beautiful tree.

jungkook took your hand and kissed the top of it. "as beautiful as this tree is, i have something more beautiful that i can look at every single day." he said looking at you. "maybe in 2024 there will be surprises, sadness, joy, love, but whatever it is, im in it with you, and for the rest of the years to come." he said smiling, taking your hand and leading you under the mistletoe once again.

"you slick boy." you said smiling, leaning in to kiss him again, of course with haley teasing both of you and showing her mother. "you cute girl." he said back, leaning into kiss you again.

yeah, this will be a good year.

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that's it!! i hope you liked this little christmas treat, i'm just posting this now because i'm going to be busy the rest of december but wanted to do something 🥺 i hope everyone has a merry christmas and a happy new year! 💜

[leveloneandup]

tobinheath team annoying 💯

[kth1]

Office Santa (M) [JJK]

Office Santa [Jungkook x Female Reader]

⟶ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Office!Au, Holiday Party!Au, Christmas!Au, PWP, One-Shot, 18+ ⟶ WC: 7.4k+ ⟶ Warnings: alcohol, swearing, oral (m), fingering, small tit-play, unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Summary: On the verge of leaving the office Christmas party, you find a reason to stay just a little bit longer. ⟶ Author’s Note: This came to me on a whim. It’s been a long while since I’ve written for Jungkook, so I’m happy I finally could muster something for you readers! Currently I have not gotten a beta, please excuse any grammar mistakes. If you see something, kindly message me and help your girl out. Other than that, please enjoy this little fic!

Masterlist ⁂ Mail Box 

It’s your typical, over the top, annual Christmas office party. Suffering at the hands of HTU Tech’s lame excuse to extend congratulations to their employees for pouring endless hours of their life to keep the company on the ground. Being a lead systems engineer isn’t exactly what you wanted for yourself, but it comes easy when you surpass all your education with flying colors. It immediately landed you a career with one of the most renowned internet companies, and shortly after being hired you moved up the rankings.

But enough about you. You can care less about going on with your achievements as you aimlessly sip your dry martini. The olive speared stirrer gives you entertainment as you pretend to listen to your coworkers speak among another. Your true entertainment lands on the male standing across the busy room with his blonde hair teased and tucked behind a jeweled ear – showing off the dark undercut that hides beneath. The color is toned and perfectly compliments his gorgeous skin shade; you’ve always had thoughts of asking him who his hairdresser is. 

He wears all black. A silk button up with sleeves rolled up his forearms and tucked in at the waist, secured with a belt with a gold chape. Drawings of black ink tattooed into his skin peek out on his right forearm — you have never once seen them all in their full beauty or how deliciously far up they roam on his body. But you would give a thousand hours, maybe more, of your precious time to find out.

He’s your supervisor, Jeon Jungkook. At the ripe age of 30, he is the youngest chief technical officer known to the area. His father, the CEO of the company is to thank for his current status. But from all you know of Jungkook, he’s a perfectionist at heart. If he couldn’t handle the stresses of a CTO, he probably wouldn’t be placed in such a position.

You have no complaints on the matter. Month in and month out, you’re greeted with his presence. And boy, do you have a massive crush on this stallion of a male. The funny thing is, you don’t need to admit such admiration out in the open. Jungkook surely knows simply by the way you interact with him. With hopeless eyes and kind gestures of doing nearly everything he asks of you, he has you eating right out of the palms of his hands without even trying.

Jungkook entertains it – your crush. With subtle glints of flirtations and constantly blessing you with his attendance in your office. You would even dare to say he enjoys a good venting session. You’ve become something like an open ear for him, someone he can just speak with during work.

It’s only stayed within work too – the contact. Not once have you and Jungkook interacted outside these building walls. Neither one of you attempted to do so. And perhaps that’s best.

Because as the crowded office continues to fill with 200 of HTU Tech employees, you realize how large the world is. How many obstacles and potential roadblocks there can be if you even attempted to speak to Jungkook outside of a work occasion. The safety of finding out more of him would only be the times in your office while you diligently type away at your computer and hack and create codings.

Your martini disappears over the course of time as you continue to glance over at Jungkook who casually sips from his whiskey glass. It’s filled with scotch and an orange slice – called a Rusty Nail. You reckon he’s been tipping those back for hours now. All the while the party continues to exist and expand, stretching into the colder hours of the night.

Jungkook catches your eyes a few times. It always sends heat to your body and your heart begins racing. You want to blame the alcohol or the infuriating holiday lights gleaming down brightly, but you know the truth.

Even when you are never given a real sign of Jungkook’s interest in you, nothing concrete, you still hope there can be something. You cling onto the idea of him maybe one day slipping like when one steps on black ice. Hidden and deadly. Where your feet take out from under you and you land straight on your ass. That’s what you secretly crave and pray for.

A waiter comes over with a tray and another dry martini for you and you happily grab at the thin glass stem, bringing the liquid to your lips as you touch the rim. You’re not drinking your sorrows away, you’re just trying to enjoy the rest of the party before you depart back to your lonely apartment.

“And you still choose not to dance,” one of your closer coworkers, Jessi, comments. Her lips are pursed in displeasure.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” you reply with a shrug.

The subtle heat burning down your throat from the alcohol is preferred in comparison to the pain your heels would endure if you danced the night away. Who wants their feet to be achy?

Jessi places a hand on your shoulder to give you an encouraging nudge, “I’m sure you’re lying.”

“It will be a secret you’ll never find out,” you stubbornly sit firm. You give her a brief warning look through the corner of your eyes, hoping she understands to not press you on the matter. “Besides, I’ll be heading out soon anyways. I’m getting uncomfortable being here longer than I need to be.”

A scoff resounds next to you, Jessi rolling her eyes while she admits defeat. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning back into her chair as her eyes scan the dancefloor. It’s not that she needs you to go out there and enjoy herself, she’s perfectly fine on her own. But seeing her office buddy do nothing after dolling herself up is a bitter disappointment.

“I’m sure you’d catch the eye of you-know-who if you were out there.”

You shove yourself from the table, your chair protests with a skidding sound against the tiled floor below you. Your eyes snap to Jessi as you stand, gathering your minibag under your arm.

“I don’t need to dance to get his attention. I can easily have a conversation with him if I cared to. And I don’t,” you lie.

There’s a chime that rings from your cell phone. As you gather your coat from the back of your seat, you spy the notorious name on the bright screen in the palm of your hand. A small smirk grows on your lips before you chug the rest of your martini, letting the base of the glass on the table with a thud.

“See ya,” Jessi doesn’t spare you another glance. Already moved on to newer interests as her hand slides around the arm of the man sitting next to her. She knows she has lost you for the night, but unbothered by your quick withdrawal.

You gather yourself, walking away from the bulk of the party towards the stairs. With your nose in your phone, you walk your way towards your office one step at a time. Grinning ear to ear at the flutter of texts that gained your desperate attention.

[Superior J]: Where are you heading to?

[You]: Mind your business

[Superior J]: Is that any way to speak to your boss?

[You]: I didn’t realize I was texting the CEO…

[Superior J]: 🙄

[Superior J]: I’m still above you

[Superior J]: The gift exchange hasn’t happened yet

[You]: I know. 

[You]: I’m just grabbing my gift from my office and heading out after 👍

Your feet have brought you straight to the frame of your office door, distant from the busy gathering. Quiet. A white board with writing and magnets hang on the outside, notes and random drawings are littered across its expanse. Your freshly manicured fingers press into the keypad that unlocks your door with a special code – 0711 – and with the click of the door closing behind you you step further into your personal office.

Inside, you flick on a small light after you place your belongings on top of your desk. Aimless papers are scattered around, loads of your hard work on full display as you piece everything together like a diagram. The mess only makes sense to you; if any prying eyes dare to decipher what you have riddled all across your entire office, they’d be stuck in here all week.

One of your filing cabinets – the one decorated like a snowman made out of office supplies – holds the gift for your Secret Santa. You placed it here because it was easy to remember.

A bluetooth speaker and small flowering bonsai plant kit. It blossoms a blush toned flower during the spring and even during the fall with proper care. The wireless speaker is just an added bonus to the gift. You tied red and green ribbons around each of them, a bit lazy on your end but still maintained your festive requirements. You’re positive that your office-buddy, Namjoon — the one in the HR department, would enjoy these given his love for soft instrumental music and plant-life.

Two taps hit the other side of your office door. From the blurred glass you can see the silhouette of a person who shifts on their heels. You step up to the door, swinging it open to reveal a tall and handsome Jungkook, standing there with two empty glasses secured between his fingers and a highly expensive bottle of red wine in the other. He holds them up with a toothy grin on his face. Jungkook’s jaw slackens as he slowly eyes you up and down, running his tongue along his pearly whites. Your heart skips a beat when his gaze jumps to lock eyes with yours. You can clearly see the powerful, hungered vigor brewing in those deep brown irises that glint with mischief. One single eyebrow raise and you already lose any leverage you thought you could have on him.

There is a weakness you have towards a man who looks fine in a dress shirt and pants. Even more of a weakness with someone who has styled locks, a sharp jawline, determined nature, and an alternative edge to their appearance.

Almost like a bad boy who dresses up far too nicely. Where blacks, grays, and the occasional tans are his color pallet. Form fitting to his toned body which you can only guess he must have based on how the clothes fit on him.

You sigh in defeat, opening up a way for Jungkook to waltz right past you and into your office as if he owns the place. He settles the bottle and glasses on an open space on your desk, already twisting the top off and pouring the sinful liquid equally between the two full-bodied wine glasses. The bottle reads 1990 Chateau Petrus; the name alone sends a chill down the base of your spine.

“Not too much,” you refer to the glass half full. Your office door closes behind you as you walk towards the desk. “I’ve had plenty enough to drink tonight.”

Jungkook lifts your glass toward you, his ring clad fingers draw your sight instantly. “It’s expensive, I requested this one personally when we hired the open bar,” he announces. “You’ll enjoy it.”

You give him a sly look as you narrow your eyes at him, holding up the glass to your nose to inhale a quick whiff. To label the smell – it smells expressive and sophisticated, like a ripe fruit mixed with vanilla aromas. 

Almost like how you can describe the man who is standing in front of you.

He grins to himself as he waits to clink his glass with yours, a nonverbal cheer between the two of you – but for what? You don’t know. The dark red wine tastes extremely silky and mixed with a superb flavor concentration. Muscular but refined and toned. 

Almost just like how you think he must be under those black clothes.

The two of you tilt back a delicious portion of the liquid and each settle with a coquettish moan. An unnecessary sound for both of your ears, but neither one of you protest the act.

“Not bad,” you state as your eyes watch the liquid swirl in your glass.

“Better than those dry martinis you enjoyed yourself with,” Jungkook teases. He decides to sit in your chair as he lounges back to find himself in a comfortable position. His free hand begins to flick through random pieces of paper among your desk while avoiding the coat and purse you have plopped on the surface.

“Probably better than that pathetic excuse of that scotch you favor so much.”

You see how the playful bluntness fuels Jungkook to another level. It stirs something inside him and possibly that is why he confines in you more often than so.

“Want to tell me what these papers are all about?” He points a few packets stapled together. “Important or just brainstorming?”

“Brainstorming is important,” you admit. You snatch a clump of papers up with one hand, placing them to the side in a bin and away from Jungkook’s prying eyes. “You wouldn’t have a chance of understanding this. It’s all disorganized right now. Besides, we’re not working right now. So unless you want to pay me for discussing work-related things, then I suggest you change the topic.”

You watch as Jungkook refuses to look up at you as his eyes remain busy looking at your etchings and symbols written on your desk. His tongue prods the inside of his cheek ever-so-slightly, just enough to know you’re winding him up. The lines in his cheeks stand out when he sucks in. You would be stuck there for ages just staring at how attractive it is until the shine of his earrings catches your attention, glinting in the low lighted room.

“Fair enough,” he speaks. His wine glass is emptied into his mouth before placing it to the side. Finally, he is ready to give you his undivided attention. “Then talk to me about your choice of attire for tonight,” his hand points as he nods at you. “This,” — he smiles with his eyes as they trail you from head to toe — “Has nothing to do with work.”

A crushed burgundy velvet dress stretches around each curve of your body all the way down to your ankles. It’s cut from spaghetti straps, dipping low enough to tease any eye of your upper chest. Personally, you love the feeling of the fabric as you run your hands across it. Not only does it feel great, but it also tames your nerves whenever they act up — coaxing you calm. To match the lovely piece, you paired a black leather jacket with shiny silver buckles. Your heels help you stand taller, strapped around the front of your foot with a classy rounded toe, sparkling with silver.

Of course this is not your typical work clothes; it is a holiday party after all. And you surely are not the only one who is ‘dressed up’ for the occasion. Even Jungkook wears a franicer brand of clothes. He’s just not entertaining the spirit with reds or greens.

Typically in a work environment, everything — and you do mean everything — is strictly business. There’s no foolish nonsense or slacking off in this office. When your superior, Jungkook, wants something he expects to receive it in a timely manner. Sure he plays around with the ideas of certain phrases or words that will leave a lingering thought in your head. Teasing you with lighthearted flirtation; that’s just how Jungkook communicates.

But the way he looks at you right now, as if you are a meal he wants to devour, ignites something deep inside of you, causing a wave of arousal to flood your senses. It’s nearly haunting with his hooded eyes hiding the lust that pools in them. It’s a different look than you’re used to and it’s turning you on, making your insides turn and do flips with excitement.

“It’s a holiday party,” you remind him of the obvious. Heat sparks inside your body, “It’s a perfect excuse to dress up. Do you like it?”

Jungkook contemplates his response with pursed lips. He gives you a questionable look, one that looks like he’ll ask you “are you serious?”

“Of course.” His words come out clean and smooth. There is no hesitation with the truth dripping from his lips. He announces his likeness with confidence as his eyes remain glued to you. “It’s different from what I normally see you in, even the make-up,” he states the obvious, “Maybe we should change the dress code.”

You laugh with a scoff, shaking your head as you favor another sip of your wine. “I don’t think most of the staff can handle dressing up to this extent every day for work.”

Jungkook leans forward in the chair to rest his elbows on his knees. He engages his direction at you, tilting his head to the left as bleached strands of hair carelessly fall flat against his face. You can tell he’s ran his hands through his golden mane at least a hundred times tonight with the lack of styled gel or hairspray — making his usual upkept style look disarrayed and messy. It’s so inviting to you, creating images in your head as if you were the one to run your fingers through it and fist it. Under the low light of your office you also still notice his black roots that protrude so dominantly from the blonde. It’s like a bright, beautiful sunshine trying to hide the darkness and failing to do so.

“I was talking about now,” he admits with a quick wiggle to his eyebrows.

You don’t take the hint at first. Thinking immediately how this can just be another trick up his sleeve to get you flustered. How your soft pining for months on end has only ever been a fun game for Jungkook and teasing and toying with you; you assume this is just another occasion. 

So it’s no surprise to him when you still yourself in place, freezing under the pressure of a possible ‘what if' solution. The glass tightens in your hold as your mind washes over with endless thoughts of Jungook’s suggestive approach.

“Excuse me?” The words come out panicked, you don’t mean for it to.

Jungkook gives you that cheeky smile — the one that you know he’s satisfied with a good joke or when he first tastes a well made grilled pork belly (you can thank all the group office lunches for knowing this one). He stands suddenly, angling his body enough to lean his lower half against the edge of your desk. His movement makes you take a quick step back, but as you see him comfortably making himself a spot you ease up on the tension building inside of you.

He opens up his palm toward you and offers his hand to take. A clear cut sign that he’s requesting you. He moves his fingers in a come-hither motion, beckoning you to step in front of him.

“I’m saying you look absolutely stunning tonight, Y/n, and I want to see what you’re hiding underneath all that.”

The pounding of your heart only gets louder as it practically bursts out of your chest. You pray that Jungkook doesn’t hear it beating so rapidly. There’s a delay with your step, but you slowly reach out with your free hand nonetheless.

Jungkook pulls you in softly when his fingers hook around your palm, enclosing your hand with his. You slot perfectly right between his legs that act as a shield, caging you inside a smaller area and closing the space between the two of you. The warmth of his thick thighs barely touch either side of you, it sets a blaze within your body.

Tentatively, Jungkook caresses your wrist, guiding his hand up the underside of your arm to your elbow and soon to your waist. His fingers fiddle with the velvety smooth material of your dress, sketching small circles into the crushed pattern.

Heat takes over your body, you can feel it like flames are engulfing you. You’re far beyond a melting point. You’re being burned by the impressions his body is leaving on you, branding the memory and physical feeling to your skin. The ghost of Jungkook’s touch will now and forever come to your wake, reminding you how dangerously deadly he truly is to your well being.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispers as he politely takes the wine glass from your hold and places it aside. 

Jungkook licks his lips when the palm of his hand wraps around the small of your back. He nudges you even closer, making your thighs squeeze between his. You’re face to face with Jungkook as your hands begin to clam up and pussy begins to drip onto your panties. You can feel your nerves messing with your body, shaking your hands when you gently slide them to his upper chest, feeling the way his pectorals flex under the first contact. Even through a silk material, you can tell he’s fully defined — ripped and plump. The tips of his nipples stand out as they harden because of you, roaming your digits across his full chest.

Oh, you’re such a whore for a good rack on a man. Even more of a whore for him with his strong shoulders that sit relaxed with muscle, high and mighty, stretching the black material painfully tight around them. The most sinful of whores when those are paired with long lengthy legs that are defined by the Gods themselves, in which your supervisor just so happens to have. 

Jeon Jungkook is completely unfair to you. He quite literally hits all the check marks of what you find attractive in a man. And here he is, reeling you in like a fish caught on a line of his rod.

Speaking of that… You swallow thickly as you fight to look past his handsome chiseled features and toward his pelvis. Seeing how his dress pants bunch up from the angle of his legs but also from a hardening cock that is in the beginnings of straining against the material. That’s when you release a deep exhale of realization. Where you know this isn’t some game and what Jungkook is doing to you is because he is affected by you too.

“J-Jungkook?” you question with shock. The anxiety of fever courses through your body like race cars speeding on their track, running laps around in circles. You’re quite ready to burst like how a balloon does when too much air fills it up.

“Shh,” he attempts to hush you. He keeps his voice calm and low, maintaining confidence. His head leans towards you, slotting it dangerously close to the nook of your neck. Jungkook catches a whiff of your perfume as his nose runs up your skin. “I want to give you this if you let me.”

You shiver with a light moan escaping your throat. The contact alone makes your nipples rise and legs squeeze together. Your fists tighten on his shirt, accidentally pulling out the top button in the jist of the action.

“Give me what?” You dare ask.

Jungkook’s mouth hovers over your neck. Hot, heated breath fanning out. Your nails threaten to scratch over the fabric, talons coming to grip onto reality. He smiles with a hum, his eyes shutting as he nuzzles his face. His lips press into your pulsepoint, peppering small kisses up and down. You barely can feel the light sensation of the tip of his tongue leaving a line of saliva on your skin.

“My dick,” he states. “We don’t have too much time. They’re beginning to give out gifts downstairs.”

You gasp when Jungkook’s teeth scrap over you, pulling at the taut skin of your neck. He grins to himself when he hears your reaction and feels when you wiggle in his grasp. You can go weak at the knees in an instant from his touch, his heedy flattery. The one thing he doesn’t read from your body language or voice is any form of protest. And he takes it as a green light, to continue his pursuit to you.

“We shouldn’t,” you gulp. “What if someone is looking for us?”

“Nobody will be looking for you” – he kisses your jawline – “Because I’m your Secret Santa and I’ve already found you.”

You feel his fingers grip your jaw as Jungkook leans back just enough to stare up at you through lust filled eyes. He wears a lopsided grin. His beautiful brown eyes are trained on your lipstick covered lips and he can’t help but wonder how they look over his cock. With your sharp tongue and blunt responses he fully believes you can do wonders with this beautiful mouth of yours.

“Fuck,” you curse with an angered whine. You’re completely lost when you gaze over his features. Admiring the few and far speckled moles and freckles that decorate his caramel skin. “You’re infuriating, do you know that?” Your inflamed anger – anguish – takes over. The rage within you is not true fury. It’s the annoyance of how easily you become such a little vexed slut for him. Aggravated because you simply cannot say no to this man. “You’re so annoying!”

“You like me,” he teases. He raises his eyebrows to taunt you as well. “I could ask you to jump and you’ll say “How high?”.”

“You’re right,” you declare. To give him the satisfaction of being right. Your hands run up to hook around his sturdy neck, feeling the buzzed undercut on the tips of your fingers. “And you love it,” you throw shade back to him. Giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“I loved it the moment I realized how easy it is for me to get under your skin. Having such an obedient body underneath my guidance. Listening intentionally to each of my words.”

You know he’s referencing work, but he purposely uses certain phrases and sayings to draw your imagination to another realm. A different, dirtier, dimension.

Jungkook runs his hands along the sides of your body, crunching up pieces of your dress with his fists. He pulls you flatter against him, closing any proximity between the two of you, and finally you feel it. A hardened cock right against your front, caged inside the barricades of his pants. He holds you there, waiting for your move.

And you give in so easily. Pulling his face towards you as you lock your lips onto his, nearly smashing into another from all the months of pining and longing for his touch. You taste him the second he sneaks his tongue out, licking at the seam of your lips and prodding inside of your mouth. His hand reaches around to cup an asscheek, squeezing the bulk of it tightly.

You run your fingers up the base of his scalp, grooming his precious locks and messing them up further. Jungkook continues to push you onto him as you’re happily willing to lean your entire body. Pressing yourself further into the clutches of your supervisor.

“I want to suck you off,” you mumble against his lips. You hear the rattling of his belt buckle loosening up along his waist – Jungkook clearly would like that very much. “Right now!”

It’s all in a haste with the time constraints going against the two of you, so you waste no seconds in between. Dropping quickly to your knees as you assist Jungkook with releasing his cock from the obstacle of his zipper.

As it finally reveals, you don’t spare a moment to appreciate for all it’s worth. The length, the girth, the beautiful round of his mushroom cockhead – not even the beautiful protruding veins from the underside of his shaft.

None of that matters right now. You gobble down a mouthful before he’s able to shove the material of his pants down his thighs. Lips latching around the circumference of his cock as you stick your tongue out while sliding down further. You lather him up with your spit, making the glide of your mouth smoother as you coat him. He tastes a little salty, probably from a long day's use, but you like it. It’s almost hinted with a powdery musk that reminds you of sandalwood and rose petals – or maybe that’s just the alcohol confusing you. Whichever it may be, you fully devour the length of Jungkook with eagerness. Sliding his whole extent inside of your mouth and down your throat.

It reaches past the opening of your throat, stretching it wide to accommodate as much as possible. Your nose presses right into the trimmed pubes on his pelvis as you settle there to acknowledge and value the sweet, sweet soft whines escaping from Jungkook. His hand, running hot from how heated he’s become, places itself on the back of your head. Guiding you up and down on his shaft.

You’re slobbering all over him, using your fingers to pull his briefs and the elastic of his pants further down to not dirty them with your saliva.

Jungkook quickly becomes a mess of light tenor whines. It fuels your ambitions toward him, knowing you’re causing such an approving feeling of pleasure for him. He sounds amazing, even tastes amazing as you flatten out your tongue and lick right up his shaft.

But suddenly you rip away from his cock, pulsating with how close and desperate his orgasm is. He leans there, jaw-slackened and in a trance of betrayal from having pleasure ripped right out from under him and a fading climax.

Turning around, you tease the idea of your body as you raise your dress slowly. You look over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips, with the full intent to provoke Jungkook, to make him snap out of his daze. You use the high slit in your dress to reveal more of your upper thigh, showing Jungkook how easy of an access he can have. All he needs to do is come and get it.

Jungkook’s hands shoot out to grab at your elbows, pulling you back against him. Ass flat against the seat of his lap, molding you against him. You arch your back just enough to make your ass stick out more prominently, nudging right onto his slickened cock.

“Lift,” he pushes the material of your dress up. His hands roam greedily across your front, one dipping between the junction of your thighs to feel the sheer thong you wear and the other groping one of your boobs. Jungkook can feel how wet you are for him, using his rough fingertips to run along the slit of your folds, pressing the material of your panties into you. “You’re so dirty. So wet. I can’t wait to fuck you onto my dick.”

“C-Condom?,” you choke out a moan. He pinches at your nipple as his skillful fingers pull your panties aside and dips two of them into your leaking cunt. Jungkook’s face presses into your shoulder as he breathes out heavily, trying to draw your last breath out of you to make you breathless. “Jungkook! Condom!”

“I have one just for you,” he says with gruff. He plunges two fingers inside of your entrance, curling them sinfully once he hits the second knuckle. A sigh emits from his mouth, “Right in my wallet. Downstairs in my jacket.” He grasps your tit greedily, making it near to painful as he vigorously finger-fucks you. “Whoops,” he laughs sarcastically. Jungkook spreads his fingers in a scissoring motion, rotating them to spread your walls open. A sobbing moan leaves your throat as your legs begin to shake. 

You clench around his fingers and dirty words – how carelessly he just so happened to forget a condom. But his mouth is not making love to the shoulder of your skin as the strap of your dress falls down your shoulder, his fingers spellbind you and coax your mind into thinking that being irresponsible is better tasting than sugar.

“You’re kidding me,” you laugh. You’re slickening up his fingers with your arousal, making it easier for him to shove another one in. You spread open your legs wider, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Will you let me fuck you like this?” He whispers against your shoulder. Lips tormenting you as he sucks against a piece of flesh. “Raw?”

His bewitching capability with his hands along makes you fall harder for the idea. It twists the thoughts into your mind and floods your senses with only wanting one thing – which is pleasure.

“Or,” he huffs, “Shall I finger you until you’re right on the brink of cumming into my hand. Then tear away that chance just how you did me? I can draw it out for hours, making your body ache with tense muscles and a teased pussy. Would you like that?”

“We’re in a time crunch,” you remind him. “There’s no hours here to have.”

“Then decide fast,” he bites. His fingers dive deeper into your pussy, producing an obscenely loud squelching noise.

Your mouth goes dry with how you desperately breathe. You need him. You want him.

“Fuck it. Make it fast,” you surrender.

Jungkook traps your body immediately under him, swapping your bodies and twisting you around to press you against the desk. He feels heavy and blazing warm, tension rising as his own desperation comes pouring out of him. 

His hand collects the train of your dress and lifts it high above your ass as his hand presses you down against the top of all your scattered papers and coat. Jungkook grips his large hand around the naked base of his cock, tugging at it and squeezing every time it throbs in his hold. His fingers that were once inside your cunt now spreads your arousal over his cock, brushing the engorged head of his dick between your lubricous lips. The sensation itself is maddening enough to have you pushing your hips eagerly back to feel him. Wanting him to spear right into your walls.

“I knew you’d say yes,” he practically growls with a carnal rumble inside his chest. He places a hand on your hip; you can feel his nail digging deeply into your dress and surely will cause crescent indents on your skin.

“I said make it – Oh!”

You bite back your curses when Jungkook’s hips stutter forward on your impatient request, his length and girth starts entering you at a quick pace. Your lungs hurt from the excessive gasp you intake as shaky whimpers tumble from your lips. His enlarged dick, fully aroused and stiff, finally gets to explore the slipper velvet interior of your hot core.

Jungkook could care less with a slow adjustment for you, especially how you declared the needed pace of events. He refuses to go anything but fast, sinking himself to the hilt as you grit your teeth in an attempt to make it easier to endure.

“Shit,” you both simultaneously speak into the air.

Inch by tasty inch, he fills you to the brim with his cock. Pushing snug against your cervix and balls resting against your pussy lips. Jungkook drags his cock partly back out of your sobbing hole, a fresh coat of your glistening arousal casts a beautiful clear sheen on his raging erection. The sight makes him salivate, a mouth-watering and utmost beautiful scene he has ever seen. Just when you think you can breathe a breath of comfort, he sheaths himself back inside of you with a sigh of pure relief.

You crane your neck to look back at him, seeking the sight of Jungkook’s concentrating face and biting harshly down on his bottom lip. With a hand still tight on your hip, the other rests on your shoulder – using it to slink you back onto his pelvis as he runs full-blown assault on your cunt. Fucking into you hard, having your legs bang into the desk as you drool over your papers. His relentless thrusts hardly let up. His eyes glance over to yours briefly, seeing how they plead with a need.

He complies to you, knowing exactly how you want his lips on yours. Jungkook leans down, rolling his hips into you at a constant pace but pulls you up just a bit with his hand around your neck. Your body melts into his touch soon enough as his soft lips mold into yours, tense muscles relaxing as he calms you down with a languid kiss.

“I’m s-so close,” you whisper into his moistened lips. Soft whines already start to slip from your tongue. His pace quickens, knowing he, too, is also close to his release. “Jungkook,” you warn as your eyes shut with impending bliss.

Jungkook’s breath comes out quiet yet rugged. His rough hips continue to snap against your ass and increasingly becomes harder upon receiving your words. All those thoughts of seeing you wiggling underneath his body, all the times he’s pondered how your body feels against his fuels his imagination up until this point.

“Where do you want it?” He questions as his pelvis pounds into you.

You, on the last shred of your own sanity, dangle on a thin string. Your eyes shut tight, gleeful tears break the edges of your eyes and leak down your make-up. Your arousal builds with every heavy drag of his length against your insides. What stirs you the most crazy is hearing, and basking in full on glory, of the beautiful vocalization of Jungkook’s increasing pleasure. The sweet sounds of his lupine moans and guttural grunts as he loses himself inside you. It sounds like a sinful song and causes that tightening coil of tension in the pit of your stomach to snap open at any given moment.

Jungkook’s hold on your neck tightens as harsh trusts slam into you, each releasing an angry huff from his nose. He presses you into your desk, shifting the piece of furniture slightly with his strength. Your pussy flutters around his cock, arousal dripping down your inner thighs as you do nothing but wriggle under him.

“I d-don’t care,” you moan. You’re diving nose first into an ocean of pure bliss as your climax hits you so hard that your vision blurs. A loud sob falls from your lips and babbling curses soon follow. “Holy shit!”

“Look at you go,” Jungkook praises you proudly, kissing your cheek to your neck. “I’m going to bury myself in you,” he states. Smiling against your skin, “I hope you’re ready.”

And surely you are. Even though your pussy is spent from his onslaught, you continue to back yourself into him until he is ready to slip into madness. Make his entire body shudder before he vehemently plows his cock into you at least a dozen more times in sporadic, faltering thrusts. Jungkook’s eyes screw shut, hands gripping on either side of your hips and squeezing your flesh helplessly. Your walls continue to clench with excitement around his bulky shaft, making it his tipping point. Where he falls into himself and unloads everything inside of you as he holds you impaled on his pulsating cock. Spurting an abundant amount of his hot cum into every nook and cranny of your silky core, making sure not a single spot is left unpainted. His orgasm lasts for several moments as he stills, a strains growl resounding from his chest and a melodic whine slipping out of his pink lips. Drops of his sticky off-white fluid starts to trickle down your folds from bursting out the seams.

The two of you stay in that position for minutes until you’re drawn back to reality. Heavenly relief washes over the both of you as sensations that run through your body relax. You begin taking in your surroundings for the first time since you have both lost any notion of space and time, forgetting you’re in the middle of your closed off office, at work, where a holiday party continues to roar down the stairs. Your desk has shifted a good foot from its original resting place, papers have fallen or crumpled from your fist, and a mess has been made of your pussy.

Jungkook pants behind you, forehead resting on your back as he catches his breath, sweat dripping off the side of his face.

“Y/n,” he rasps, trying to recollect himself. “Are you good?”

You nod, a soft smile curling your lips. You wait for him to lean up and pull out until you stand up straight. Your hands feel around your hair, making sure everything is still in place. You pull up the straps of your dress and situate the body and skirt. Lastly, you cup your sex with your hand as you search for a solution of the mixture of both of your cum’s falling so freely from you. The nearest bathroom is down the hall, you can make it as long as there is nobody else around.

“I’m great.”

“Good,” he hums. 

Jungkook tucks himself away and fixes his shirt and pants. In the low lighting you spy a small red scratch along his chest before he buttons it back up, knowing very well you have caused that mark on him.

He stands there as he watches you contemplate what you want to say. To break the silence, he clears his throat to gain your attention.

“So, I think I need to let you know something.”

Oh god, you think. What on earth does he have to say? What don’t you know? Potential bad possibilities immediately run through your mind as you glance at him, gripping your coat and purse quickly from the desk.

Does he have a partner? Is there something going on in the office? Will he ask you to not speak of this – not like you would risk that anyways. Will he say he realized he fucked up? Messing around with your own worker is frowned upon, office romances are not allowed. What does he have to say?

As you stand there waiting for him to speak, like a knife held above your heart, you expect to endure any pain coming your way. Mentally preparing to brush it off, forget about it and move on.

“I’m…” he begins. Jungkook takes a step closer, “I’m not really your Secret Santa. I just used that as an excuse to get you to stay a little longer before you left for the holiday.”

“Oh?” You blink. Your eyes scatter around your office as if you’re searching for an answer. Why lie about it. “Ok, so then who is?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t really care either. But I'm sure whoever has gifts for us, they’ll be waiting for us downstairs.” His hand comes to grab yours, playing loosely with your fingers when he gets a hold of them. “I just wanted to give you a personal gift. I’m assuming you like it.”

You hold your coat tighter towards your body, “I do. And don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he smirks. His other hand comes up to place his fingers under your chin, “You got a bit of drool…”

You narrow your eyes at him, but allow him to touch you. The trickling wetness from between your legs reminds you that you need to clean up and fast. So you take it as a cue to break contact with your boss, but you make sure to throw him a little remark back.

“And you have a bit of lipstick on your face,” you smile with fulfillment. “Might need to wash that off before heading downstairs.”

The two of you stand there smirking. Your deadly game of flirtations have stepped deeper into a new territory. Where the sex card now has come into play. How everything that may linger between the two of you can in fact become dangerous if you keep entertaining new domains. But neither one of you want to resist that temptation. This is exciting and new.

Before you can gather up Namjoon’s gift, Jungkook pulls you in for one last, chast, kiss on the lips. A parting goodbye for now. But a promising note for you to remember for the next time.

A reassuring reminder that tells you he is ready to play this game with you.

© 2022 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[jackwhiteprophetic]

Guys I actually can't take anymore today. THIS IS THE VIBE OF LAST FRIDAY. WE ARE BEING FED