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taegularities · 2 years

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colour me in: lights | jjk (m)

Summary: They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. But they didn’t tell you about the madness and unending yearning that quietly tag along.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating, partly college!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: artist jk!!, “who is nara?”, flirting, a few convos that rlly hurt, long distance yearning, secrecy? 🧐, jin cameo..., overthinking, 1 howl’s moving castle reference, jealousy on both sides, “what happened at the frat party?”, some insecurities but the couple is still badass, more about jk’s thoughts/feelings, drunk jk is a simp; explicit sexual content: phone sex, deep low jk moans 😄, some sex toys, dirty talk, fingering, 1 clit spank, guided masturbation, dom!jk; surprises !!!! ➳ word count: 25.2k (pleaaase 😭) ➳ a/n: the angst is here, so let’s have a first taste of it </3 this series would be nothing without @missgeniality who beta’d this in legit one day !! 🤍 so go and worship her (SHE ALSO MADE THE BANNER, LIKE ??!?!?! ISN’T IT BEAUTIFUL) 😔✊ hope you enjoy this chapter; and don’t forget to drop by and leave a message. it makes my day !! <3 ➳ listen to: ruin my life by zara larsson | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

Jungkook’s apartment mirrors his serene personality perfectly.

It’s cosy and quiet, not too large, but it’s up high enough in the building to let enough sunlight in. The star allows his place some vibrancy, falls through the window in bright rays and directly onto your face, like it’s teasing you.

Absolutely immaculate for him; screams his name from every corner and wall.

Yoongi, attempting to keep his best friend close to his place for a while longer, suggested other, easier ideas a number of times. Such as, for Jungkook to stay in his tiny dorm and approach post-grad, the way Yoongi or Taehyung have.

But Jungkook has been yearning for his own place for ages – you knew before he even told you he already purchased one. He always says he wants to feel as though he’s achieved something – with his own efforts, his own money, without relying on his parents or a fake-dating-deal.

He never said the last bit, but you can’t help but still take the miniscule, hidden hint in his words.

“Keep groaning like that,” you voice, an arm draped over your tired eyes, “and I might disturb you for a bit.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jungkook’s voice is strained, fatigued, but the amusement in his tone never falls with you around.

You’re only still playing immobile, because he dropped and pinned you against the mattress, wiggling a finger with his face painfully close to yours, and said, “I’ll do it. You’ve done enough. Don’t you move, ‘kay?”

“Why don’t you then?” he exclaims from the other room, and the sound of stuff clanking against other stuff swallows some of his words. “I’d rather be disturbed than do this anyway.”

By this, he means figuring out how to make his TV work. Some wires gave him a hard time before the set-up did, and he’s been battling the deities of technology for nearly half an hour now. Judging from his sounds, it must be quite frustrating.

“No,” you argue, “you do your thing, so we can leave. I’m melting.”

Jungkook’s apartment doesn’t have an air conditioner yet; nor did he bring the fan from his dorm. So you’ve been positively smouldering, moving away from the noon heat, but the sun and its recklessness keep following you around.

He chuckles from the other room, and you pull your lips to a small smile. As soon as his TV issue is solved, you’re out of here – not that you don’t like his flat, but you’d rather catch some air than be grilled alive.

And anyway – he’s shown you around already. You’ve already ticked off most of the tasks he’d set for today on his endless to-do list. And now, you’re waiting. Alternating between hiding your eyes from the light and staring up at the ceiling, unblinking.

In the silence that descends between your occasional small talk, you attempt your hardest to keep the tranquillity of the moment afloat. For days, your mind has been whirring; it’s become almost impossible to not think about his upcoming departure from your town.

But right now, with his presence still around, your heart doesn’t allow your mind to go haywire just yet. It’s storing the longing for later – when he’s gone, it’ll hit you like a truck. At the moment, it’s just a gentle slap.

“Hey,” a deep timbre suddenly says, and you shoot your eyes open to find yourself in his shadow. “On a scale from one to college submission paperwork, how bored are you?”

His knees dig into the mattress on each side of your body, hands planted into it to keep his body hovering over you. The mattress lies on the ground; the transport of the remaining stuff, such as the kitchen or the bed is scheduled for when he comes back.

In the hurry and stress that graduation brought, neither Jungkook nor Ikea could settle on a date that fit both their schedules.

But if it was up to him and societal and social factors didn’t demand otherwise, he’d plant a mattress in every room and call it a day.

You laugh after your initial flinch – the sound of your giggle pushes sparkles of delight to the forefront of his eyes. You see them when he leans in, a lopsided smirk staring back at you. With a raised brow, he teases, “Does the lady need some lemonade and a massage, too?”

“Hey!” you exclaim, grimacing. You try to dull the thump of your heart, so he doesn’t hear it, but the organ underneath your chest is as stubborn as you. “You told me to relax.”

“I’m just joking. You can totally take a nap,” Jungkook assures. As he holds his weight, one of his arms trembles a little, but he doesn’t cave in; his hot skin close to yours. “It’s super hot anyway.”

You raise a hand; your fingers trace a pattern on the collar of his shirt. Then, you rub the material between the tips of your digits, tugging at it lightly as you ask, “Tell me what I can help with.”

But he shakes his head, vehemently obsessed with the idea that you’ve done more than enough. Somewhere in your head, you imagine he never truly wanted your help. There’s not much for you to do, or not much left – most of the leftover tasks will either be tackled after his vacation or have already been taken care of.

Somewhere in your head…

You imagine that you’re just here, because he wanted you close to him.

“I was really kidding,” he says again, and you shrug your shoulders, hell-bent on lifting at least one finger before leaving the place.

“But I wanna help. Bringing in some boxes was nothing.”

“But I just want my baby to be comfortable.”

When…

When did the line between pillowtalk and casual conversations blur? When did he start looking at you like this, filling you with hope; filling you with fear?

His eyes always suggest unbridled affection, but the doubts he plants in your head with rare but clear statements leave you questioning. With inquiries you can’t find the strength to ask.

Like.

Jeon Jungkook.

When did you start feeling comfortable enough to touch me like this? To call me those pretty, little nicknames? What goes on in your mind – do you know what it does to my mind?

Emotions are a human construct too complicated for you.

Your – as Jimin calls it – rather idiosyncratic, somewhat unhealthy coping mechanism, whatever it means, is to dodge the entirety of your fears. To sneak your way out of struggles by closing both eyes and opening them only once you’re alone.

To think. Rethink. Overthink.

So you smile, blinking away your questions, and ask, “I’m your baby, huh?”

The tilt of Jungkook’s head is achingly dangerous. Sickeningly sweet. His eyes are big; dark pupils that take over his entire eyeballs. You can’t help but think of the ocean at night every single time – they’re always sparkling, like waves.

You wonder if he’ll see himself once he arrives at the resort, at the sea.

Fondly, he looks at you; his fingers slither closer to your hair, and he inquires, “Are you not?”

Again and again – he says those things again and again.

And then he follows up with stupid reassurances like, “You’re a wonderful friend.”

Or, “Once your parents get off your back, you’ll get rid of my stupid ass, don’t worry.”

You thought you trained yourself to brush those words off… but every time he delivers a new statement to clutch your heart and wring it, you hope more. And you fall more. Into what, you don’t know.

In reality, you might not be anyone else’s at this point. Your own person still, but his angel undoubtedly, too.

“Fucking liar,” you still say, shutting your eyes for a moment before you open them again.

A breathy, hushed laugh falls off his throat, and he shrugs his shoulders as if to confirm your insult. You don’t want to ask more, because if you do, it might turn you to ember.

His breath falls hot against you, boiling your skin in the unbearable heat. His neck and forehead are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, teeny tiny droplets showcasing his exhaustion.

And god, you can’t stop staring at his flushed cheeks; his lips that are coloured in a soft rosy hue.

Your hands rest on his upper arms as he closes in some more, seeking your gaze before his eyelids drop halfway. His mouth is parted as he dives in, whispering without an afterthought, “Hey.”

You hold your breath when his lips touch yours.

Neither of you is naked. Nor has any of you initiated a mingling of tongues, roamed each other’s bodies. There’s no crude intention behind the graze of his mouth against yours, and you’re an anticipating mess.

You never tire of your belief that you’ve never kissed Jungkook before. Make-out sessions are make-out sessions – if your first kiss with him happens here, between his new four walls, you need to remember it.

His lips part yours, his head angled; you can’t believe he’s trying to kiss you, just because he wants to. Just because he feels like it.

Just like that.

Your hands wander to his hair, ready to pull him in; sparks of hope flicker in your chest, your lungs still and drying up. But then…

You gasp and pull at a patch of his hair painfully, and he hisses, groaning in annoyance. From the other room, his ringtone chimes and echoes like a mother scolding her teenage daughter and her new boyfriend. You curse at the cockblock, furrowing your eyebrows before you shoot him a judgemental stare.

Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill blasts across the half-empty apartment, starting right in the middle; her voice screams out her lungs, and you sit up when he comes to a stand. His hair is in slight disarray, and he looks as though he went ten rounds in the ring with a top-notch wrestler.

“Okay,” he says, pointing at the back of his room, “can you just unpack the box with the books?”

You turn your body and head, and scan half the dozen sealed packages stacked against the wall. Considering all the mysterious boxes, the chances to unpack the one with his brother’s books at the first try seem narrow to you.

Glancing back to the door, you open your mouth to ask him which one he’s hinting at, but the room’s long empty, his voice calling Taehyung’s name and indulging in a quiet conversation.

With a light sigh, you heave yourself up the mattress, dust your legs off of nothing and stroll to the unlabelled cartons. Only Jeon Jungkook, spontaneous and indifferent to proper organisation, would bestow such a task upon you.

How can he produce 3D paintings, but not leave you with clearer instructions?

“Mmmh, okay,” you whisper, tucking your hair back. You kneel and lean over one of the smaller boxes, ripping off the tape as you add, “Let’s see.”

There’s not much content to scour. You realise soon enough that the books you are seeking aren’t anywhere hidden under the framed objects. In fact…

In fact, the pictures you find instead evoke the exact opposite emotion that literature does for you.

He threw them in haphazardly, and they look dusty, like he hasn’t touched those frames in ages. You hope for the faces to blur a little, but soon understand that they’re crystal clear and suggest just what you’re assuming.

Nara & me, in the flower gardens, it says.

Jungkook and the girl are sitting on a grass field, devoid of flowers; different from what the caption suggests. Both of them sport a giant smile, squinting one eye shut as the sun shines into their faces. They look as though one of them delivered the joke of the century, catching themselves in the middle of their joy.

She’s pretty, you think.

The voice you heard on the phone some time ago matches the gentle smile. Nara looks sweet and kind – the type of girl Jungkook’s soft personality would feel drawn to. Judging from what you know about him, he’d fall in love with a glowing beam like hers.

When you lift the picture, you find another – it’s at a different time and place, sometime in winter, a complete contrast to the flower garden thing. There’s a ferris wheel in the background, and the couple’s eyes are glinting; he stands behind her, her shoulder digging into his chest.

And she’s taking the photo, holding onto the memory.

You notice the sudden silence when Jungkook calls your name. The conversation with Taehyung seems to have come to an end, and from the other room, he informs you of a small bathroom break.

The pause allows you to shut the box again and to make out the desired one he needed you to find. A heavy and dense knot forms in your throat.

Your thoughts turn in circles, but you calm your buzzing mind. The sound of the bathroom door opening extinguishes the burning sensation in your chest, and you refocus as he rubs his hands and says, “Okay, let’s go.”

Out of here. Good idea.

“Okay,” you say.

You’re proud of yourself – you sound as unbothered as ever.

But maybe you’re not as good at lying as you think. Or perhaps, you just don’t expect Jungkook’s observant gaze to be extra sharp today.

You attempt light conversation as your nails rake along the scruffy material of the seat belt. Bopping your head to the music, songs his brother likes, stuff you don’t really know.

Jungkook said he needs to drive back to his dorm, then to his brother’s place, and after that, you’re free to suggest what to do with the rest of your evening. He’ll be gone in less than twenty-four hours; you’re hellbent on pulling the best out of tonight.

But the journey to his old place takes longer than suggested, and the busy traffic is just the least important reason of all.

Because when your conversation topics run out, he stops tapping the steering wheel, throwing the hair out of his eyes, and asks, “Are you upset about something?”

You blink, raising your eyebrows. Within a few seconds, you conjure a half-assed excuse, the genuinity in your voice forged as you tell him, “No. Why?”

“Because…” Calmly, he observes the traffic lights. He licks his lips, looking between you and the street. “We just drove by our favourite waffles place and you didn’t bat an eye.”

Not that this is the only reason. Jungkook needs less than that to figure you out.

You’re not the closed off book you used to be. Or at least, not to him.

“Oh, we did?” you answer, your words monotone and colourless. “I was listening to the music.”

But Jungkook, recklessly eagle-eyed, takes none of your shit. Your overthinking brain pumps fumes right out of your ears.

Pulling into the next parking lot, he lets the engine die. He turns towards you, raises his hands and takes half of your face into his palm before he prods, “What’s wrong?” He brushes a thumb along your cheekbones; sees your expressions drop. “What did I do?”

You smile a little – perhaps not because of the questions that are haunting you, but because of his concern. The fact that he never blames you for your overbearing thoughts, never blames you for your misery.

“You didn’t do anything,” you admit, covering his hand with your own. “It’s nothing.”

“But…” His voice sounds like a lullaby; his touch feels like silk against your cheeks. And his words are careful as he says, “You don’t look like it’s nothing.”

Soft and melting, you stare into the darkness of his eyes – and for a moment, you can’t muster up the courage to blurt the question spooking your mind. But then you take a deep breath, calm the storm in your chest and let it out.

“Kook, uhm… who’s Nara?”

The slightest flinch flashes across his face. You assume it’s a name he expected the least, especially coming from someone like you who has no real connection to his old flame.

“I just remember you were talking to her at that frat party when I called and…” you start, crafting words cautiously. You’re not a creep – you’re not. But it isn’t your fault that you saw what you saw. “And when I couldn’t find your brother’s books, I found pictures of her instead.”

Jungkook nods. Recognises your innocence, understands your curiosity. There’s a familiarity in your insecure voice – despite everything your relationship portrays, a part of him is certain that his past affects you one way or another.

So, as honest as ever, he doesn’t hesitate. He leans back in his seat, exhales and tells you, “Nara’s my ex girlfriend. She and I grew up together, but didn’t get together till freshman year.”

Grew up together.

How does a fake girlfriend compete against childhood love?

“But we broke up around a year ago, ‘cause she and I wanted entirely different things,” Jungkook expounds. His voice is sorrowful, like the topic stings. Like he wants it over and done. “She thought about the future a lot, and I guess I didn’t think about anything at all.”

“You like to live in the moment, don’t you?”

“The moment, yeah…” he confirms, nibbling his lower lip. “And when her thoughts were too much for me and mine weren’t enough for her anymore, we ended things.”

Unlike Nara, Jungkook doesn’t get stuck on what the future holds for him.

Unlike her; unlike you.

And different from you, he doesn’t dwell on the past either. You bet Nara crosses his mind less than she does yours, and he proves it to you when he speaks again.

“It was mutual, super friendly. It hurt back then, but it shaped me the way I am now. It stopped mattering.” He looks at you again, moving forwards, both palms cradling your face now instead of one. “It stopped mattering long ago.”

Quiet comfort… silent reassurances.

It’s all he can give you, and you take it with open arms.

“Your thing stopped long ago?” you dig deeper, searching for double confirmation and affirmation.

But he doesn’t quite grant you that wish.

He hesitates, shrugging his shoulders a little; his hands back away from your face, and he explains, “It stopped not too long ago, but… it stopped being important way before that.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that…”

He’s uncomfortable talking about it. And you open your mouth, mumbling that he can stop, a hand raised, but he wraps his fingers around your wrist softly.

He knows that his answers give you peace; envelopes your palm in his as he says, “It was an on off thing. We weren’t together, but kept things casual until it became unhealthy for both of us.”

“Before me?”

“A little… after you. When you and I were just hooking up last year.”

His answer hurts less than it could’ve – still, you can’t help the way his brutal honesty pricks your heart. Like a sewing needle causing an infinitesimal bleeding wound.

With the car turned off, the air conditioning stops its magic, too – and you don’t know anymore if it’s the heat or the conversation that burns you up.

“We wanted to grow on our own,” he says, squeezing your hand. His voice is soft and soothing, like a cotton blanket, and he reads your next question before you utter it. “I just didn’t throw away our stuff, because I forgot I’d stored it there until I packed it. But I can’t tell you why I kept it even after that.”

“Because you still…”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head immediately. “No. I don’t, at all. I really dunno, angel.”

You look down and smile a bit, your cheeks heated. You stare at your intertwined fingers, listen to the silence in the car only interrupted by the busy traffic. The soft upward tug of your lips is supposed to ease the tension between you, but he knows you’re not quite over your heart-to-heart just yet.

And you know he knows. You feel it in his touch and see it when you look up into his eyes again. You hate that the both of you seem to know, and despise that you’re too scared to take a step forward.

Cowards… absolute cowards.

Jungkook laughs, and you break out of your reverie, furling up the corners of your mouth as he says, “I can see your mind spinning.” He leans in until your foreheads almost touch, nodding in encouragement. “But I promise, I don’t feel the way I used to anymore. And there’s nothing gonna happen, because I know my priorities.”

Which is…

“Which is, pulling through this thing with you until your parents let you live in peace.”

Fuck.

This whole thing.

Every word, every one of his expressions, every single moment that passes by… makes you crumble. You’re a mouldering flower in his hands, and your crisp petals are breaking.

You wonder if he feels the same when he says those things.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” you blurt – if you’re already on this topic, you guess you could go all the way, right? “You don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna.”

His expressions turn a little scared, but he nods nevertheless; and you calm your chest, turning off your thoughts before you ask in one breath, “When you met her at that party… Did you tell her about us?”

As far as you can remember, you had sealed the deal already. You’d been fucking for months – perhaps he let your name slip at least once. Though your hopes die a bit when he shakes his head, answering a firm, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” He’s thinking, hesitating, grimacing. Then, he says, “Because we were on an entirely different topic. She was trying to get to Yoongi, but she just… wouldn’t understand that she’s not his type.”

Oh.

“There was nothing else we really talked about… we didn’t give a fuck about our past relationship anymore.” Jungkook shifts in his seat. “But in all honesty…” Your heart stands still – and you understand why when he adds, “It wasn’t important back then.”

His honesty isn’t just brutal; it’s gentle, too – you just didn’t expect it to sting this much.

“What?”

“I just…” he continues, moulding words carefully. You see the engines in his brain work and steam. “We were barely proper friends, baby. I was half drunk at a dumb party, and you’d just asked me about the fake dating thing.”

He holds your hand tight, as if he knows that it’s uncomfortable info for you, squeezing. “It just didn’t cross my mind, because it wasn’t relevant back then.”

“And… and now?”

Jungkook smirks, and his eyes demolish some of the dull tension; he pulls your hand closer to his thigh when he promises, “Now… If anyone even tried to get too cosy with me now, I’d swear undying loyalty to you.”

A laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head; though some of your newfound amusement fades again and gives way to vexation when he says, “Don’t worry, I’m not messing this up.”

The groan you let out surprises him, but he understands when you elaborate, “Fuck, just… stop and forget for once that we’re playing an act, okay?”

Your voice is steady and soft, but the annoyed hint is too obvious to ignore. So he apologises, “I’m sorry, angel, I—”

“I care about you. And caring about you is not an act.”

“I know, and I care about you, too. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It sounded like it,” you murmur, looking at the hand around yours; its grip has loosened a little.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I swear… and I’m sorry.”

He brings a thumb to your lips and releases your pout, and you lift a hand to your eyebrows to rub the frown away. You hum and calm your nerves.

Silence descends upon you, though the noise of the traffic outside disrupts your whirling thoughts. Albeit not as hard as when he says, “When I come back… I wanna tell you something.”

Jungkook and his dramatic effect. He knows it makes you nervous – but he never shows any remorse to the wild thumps of your heart anyway. Quietly, you ask, “Why don’t you now?”

“Because I feel like I’ll know what to say when I’m back. I just need to figure out some stuff.”

“That sounds… dangerous. You gonna hurt me, won’t you?”

You’re joking. Absolutely teasing the way you always do. But his expressions still change, a light smile tugging at one corner of his lips; and your heart drops a bit as he tells you, “I hope not, angel… I really hope not.”

Jungkook doesn’t cut the topic of art, jobs or vacation for the rest of the day that you still get to bask in his presence.

His touch, though unmistakably close and real, keeps slipping away bit by bit. In his occasional stutter and distraction, you know he notices your clinginess. His eyes dart to the way your skin brushes his every now and then, or to the arm that sneaks around his, holding his body close.

He never minds; he never breaks the bubble, fond of your affection. Lets you do. It’s strange how easy it is to give into your touch and the pleasant consolation it brings. Your charades are all forgotten at this moment.

The tension that the ambiguous conversation in the car caused faded when you fell back into your usual banter. He wanted to cruise through town, drive to some hill to wind down from the hard labour today.

You on the other side craved your shower, perspiring at places you didn’t know had sweat glands. And ever so easy to convince, he brought you home, waiting in your room until your house suffocated him, and soon walked out to lean against the hot vehicle.

“This is a lot more comfortable,” you said when you stepped out. The sun had set by then, but your appearance floating over the porch stairs and towards him shone bright as day.

And the answer stuck in his throat, his jaw falling open; he hasn’t been able to close it since. Something about the sky blue dress and your hair parted that particular way cast an enchantment on him – or perhaps, it’s the yearning that accompanies a whipped mind.

“Don’t stare at me like that,” you tell him with a heated face, self-aware. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Staring at you is embarrassing?”

“Being stared at.”

“I just like the dress,” he admits, and you look down as if in reflex, smoothen the fabric, “and I like looking at it.”

You lift the hem of it to your thighs, blinking as you ask, “You wanna wear it?”

“Totally would,” he argues. With his hands in his pockets, he shrugs, squinting into the light of lanterns guiding the way. “But it looks better on you.”

You shake your head with an amused roll of your eyes, walking the path he chose in the park. You attempt to pull him into the direction of benches for the umpteenth time, and as the hundred tries before, this one fails just as miserably.

Because he’s hellbent on pushing you forwards, deeper into the greenery and the quiet of the night. He doesn’t stop until you reach the middle of the place, gazing at a gazebo you’ve seen so many times before.

“You’re going to the countryside… and still want to spend your last night here instead of,” you pause, thinking, shrugging your shoulders, “I don’t know, an amusement park or something.”

“Well, we’re alone here,” Jungkook explains, tugging you towards the little house. “And I don’t like noise.”

“I’m noisy, though. I annoy you all the time.”

He laughs, and you join, teeth flashing as he says, “You’re a pleasant kinda noisy.”

Satisfied and proud, you raise your chin, humming in victory as you take a seat on the steps. They’re not high and barely wide enough for you to sit down. You stretch your legs in front of you, and Jungkook, cosy behind you, crosses his next to your body.

“Apart from the silence, why are we here?” you ask him with a sigh.

Relief washes over you when you lean back a little. The exhaustion that the busy day caused, combined with your wilding thoughts, catches up to you; but the closed distance between your bodies relaxes your core.

His brushing touches feel warm and electrifying. The fingers toying with the sleeve of your dress skim your skin sometimes, a solace you’ve gotten used to more than you probably should.

“Look up,” he answers, shifting closer, and you obey, “I wanted you to see the night sky. The actual one, not just through the window or those stars glued to your ceiling.” You look at him, and he smiles at you. “Felt like you might like it.”

With misty, delighted eyes, you crane your neck again. Your gaze falls onto the dimly glowing moon behind swaying leaves of trees, and surrounding the three quarters of Earth’s natural satellite, stars twinkle in their whole glory.

They reflect in your eyes, some brighter than others; and for a moment, you look back into Jungkook’s pupils that followed your stare. You notice that the night sky didn’t affect his eyes – the reflection isn’t prominent, because they look the way they always do.

You don’t know how many minutes pass like that.

Your focus locks on the dots above, sometimes trying to figure out whether it’s truly a star or a plane passing by impossibly slowly. If your heart wasn’t so trained to register every one of his touches, you might have been hypnotised enough to miss his next move.

Pulling his right leg in, he moves a bit, and lets it appear on the other side of your body. He pushes himself forward by a few inches, and presses his torso against your back before soft hands sneak to your tummy.

With his chin on your shoulder, you move your head to realise that he’s closed his eyes; seeking peace in your touch and existence. As serenity befalls the quiet night, you whisper, “That feels nice.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbles. “It does.”

You press yourself further into him, indulging in the beauty of the moment – silent and content, and only speaking up in excitement when a rare flicker flashes across the sky. It appears and vanishes so fast that you think you imagined it, and you exclaim in surprise, “Jungkook!”

He flinches and follows your focus. The night is glimmering and empty, and he looks at your side profile in question. Your voice calms and your eyelids flutter shut, a deep, cool breath escaping your chest as you explain, “A shooting star. Make a wish.”

“I missed it…”

“But it was there. It’s okay.”

With another inhale, you lean back. He gives into your request, closing his eyes, and lets his mind whisper a hushed wish before his gaze finds you again.

Your mouth is moving slowly, uttering what you desire most – and his lips twitch upwards, his head tilting as he watches you pray to whatever celestial entity above.

And then, you giggle, meeting his eyes – the delight across his face, you reckon, has been here for longer than you know. Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest, relentlessly beating against your ribcage; but you catch yourself fast before you joke, “What if I just told you about my wish?”

To which Jungkook clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he replies, “You can’t possibly do that.”

“But,” you laugh, letting him squish you like a plushie, “what if I told you that I wished for you to–”

His laugh overshadows your words, and his heart tries not to dwell on the fact that your wish included him. A hand comes up to cover your mouth, amusement dripping from his tone when he orders, “Don’t!”

Your senseless giggles are accompanied by the sway of your bodies; he rocks you back and forth, sighing. Satisfaction wraps around you like a comforting blanket. You wonder when insulting, teasing and fucking each other transitioned into whatever the heck is happening now.

You curse your heart for letting your feelings shift like this. Why does it fade out every single person in an ocean of crowds when he’s next to you?

You want to say something to him that will stir his mind like yours, cause a tumult in his stomach like he does with yours. But parts of your courage fall, leaving you with insecurity and a knot in your throat that you swallow before you opt for a different topic instead.

“Did you know that most of the stars we see are already dead?”

Of course he knows – the documentaries he watched on Netflix on boring and lonely nights weren’t for nothing after all.

And still, he lets you ramble, pretending as he asks, “Yeah?” His lips build a trail on your neck, and he watches goosebumps erupt on your skin, warmth spreading across his chest as he adds, “Did you read that somewhere?”

His distraction proves effective enough when you part your mouth, breathing in the fresh air before you mumble, “I don’t know anymore…”

You let him touch pieces of your sanity away. A chill travels down your spine, and you swallow hard when he tongues the crook of your neck softly.

How you’ll be able to go without this craze, starting in less than twelve hours and stretching a month, you can’t quite say. You gulp again, fearing the distance to come, and state, “I hope you see the same stars that I do when you’re gone.”

As a hobby writer, you’re an avid dreamer, too – Jungkook has figured out this much in the time he’s gotten to know you. A hopeless romantic built for love and eternity; mind filled with poetry and magic; eyes hopeful and brave.

You disguise your softness in teases and jokes, but he knows the truth – you’re a fairytale; a bright, vibrant story he wants to read till the last page.

“I’m sure I will,” he then breathes, lips pressing against your heated cheek.

“Oh, come on. You won’t be thinking of me there. You’ll be busy having fun with your family.” You chuckle, eyes still slipped close, and jest, “And staring at resort girls.”

“As if.”

“They wear pretty bikinis and all, so I’ll probably not—”

“How could I not think of you, little brat?” he interrupts, pinching your sides, and you gasp in exaggeration. “It’s gonna be boring without you anyway.”

“‘Kay, but imagine,” you start, keen to pull out more of his admittances, “what if you experience crazy as hell shit over there?”

“Like what?”

“Like… a big parade the night you arrive or a huge party with free cocktails. I’m kinda jealous!” You tap the arm wrapped around you. Try not to think how disgustingly sweet the feeling in your guts is when his thumb rubs your stomach. “You know what they say… Interesting things do seem to happen but always to somebody else.”

Jungkook laughs out loud, a genuine, mellow snicker that you join immediately. He squeezes your body tight, buries his head in your neck. Muffling his chuckles, he resurfaces again, big, sweet, starry eyes staring at you.

Then, he asks, “Did you just quote Howl’s Moving Castle? The book no less?”

You gasp at his words, digging your nails into his arm to which he responds with a slight hiss. “You’ve read it! Damn, I never thought anyone would ever recognise that!”

“I don’t read much. But I know this one,” he admits. He shakes his head in disbelief; you’re too fucking adorable. “Seriously,” he says, “how does your mind work?”

“It doesn’t work at all. Mind empty, just Ghibli.”

Your combined stupidity and his irritating tickles keep you entertained for a few minutes; but as soon as calmness breaks in, realisation dawns on you afresh. And this time…

This time, you feel the hurt clearly.

Suddenly puncturing your heart and your lungs, making your head vibrate.

Your voice falls, half genuine enthusiasm lacing it when you say, “Definitely let me know when you arrive in your town. And when you fly to the resort and land, let me know, too.”

You feel him nod, and speak on before your voice can crack, “And seriously, have fun there, with or without me. Also, speaking of, bring me a souvenir, yeah? I love, love those little cliché magnets.”

You think for a moment and he listens, keeps nodding from time to time as you continue your lecture, “Never forget sunscreen, okay? Keep your phone charged and do not drink too—”

And then, your words wander, mind momentarily blank before he feels and hears you sigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, worry apparent in his words; his mouth is dangerously close to your cheek when he looks at you.

You shake your head and click your tongue, look at him with something he almost interprets as longing as you admit, “Ah… I just… I’ll miss you a lot.”

Jungkook’s body stiffens, and you feel it painfully clearly. You catch him nibbling at his lips; and you see his mind whir. Despite the fact that you're closed in his hug so affectionately, he feels so far away.

There might be a hundred things he wants to say; and you want to ask. But then, he settles on, “I’ll miss you, too.”

It’s just a month. He’s not walking away for good – you need to convince your heart that the words exchanged between you don’t mean the end of the world. It’s nothing dramatic – but the things he says flood you with longing… and jab your chest at the same time.

Because.

“You know what the worst thing is?” He shifts, his voice vibrating against your back. “My family is there to remind me of you, too. They’ve been asking about you and all, but I can’t really tell them they haven’t met you yet, because…”

Because this is not real.

You know. Is that what courses through his mind when he’s alone, too? And why do you, despite knowing how this will end, feel hurt?

“Mmh, well, you can always introduce me as your best friend,” you say, pushing back the intruding melancholy.

Then you realise.

Are you his best friend? Have you said too much? Should you follow up with a laugh and let your suggestion pass as a joke?

But Jungkook either doesn’t notice or doesn’t disagree, because quietly, he mutters, “Yeah…”

“Anyway,” you hurry, “good luck surviving their questions on your way down there.”

“What?” For a split second, his eyebrows touch in confusion; but when he understands, he lets out an Ahhh-sound and clarifies, “We’re not going together.”

“Hmm?”

“My brother and I will drive down in his car. My parents left two days ago.”

Huh.

Strange. He never told you.

Not that it’s too important, but…

“Why didn’t you guys leave with your parents?” you ask.

Considering that he’s visiting his neighbourhood after months, you assumed he was just waiting to leave. Shaking in his shoes. Yet, he brushed off the possibility of seeing his extended family earlier?

Why?

“My brother,” he starts, and you look back into his eyes. They’re a little foggy. “He couldn’t get off work before.”

“And you?”

“Mmh… Just so?” He waits, his tone suspiciously ingenuine; and he empowers your confusion when he adds, as though he’s crafted the perfect excuse, “I thought I’d stay for a day or two and then tag along. So he’s not alone. Also, my apartment.”

“Ah,” you voice, suddenly wide awake. “Okay.”

There’s not that much more to say – because you think you understand. And if you understood correctly, then you’ll allow yourself to float on cloud seven for just a bit.

Because Jungkook’s apartment is set as much as he’d planned; the things you did today were minor – easy to push to when he comes back. The tasks left are fulfilled, and you can barely imagine that he’d give up being at his childhood home just so.

The spare days he had, he spent almost exclusively with you.

His muscles are stiff around you. As if he’s contemplating what to say, uncomfortable about something. You, on the other hand, are a melting mess, half a puddle that catches itself from liquefying as you inquire, “Are you enjoying tonight?”

And within a moment, his limbs relax. Whatever secrets he carries, he doesn’t share them with you; his thoughts remain his thoughts, and you don’t ask more about them. The last hours you’ve left, you want to keep thawing in his and the summer night’s warmth.

With another sigh, he nuzzles into your neck, hands planted firmly under your breasts and over your belly button. He tugs you close, inhales your scent and says, “Yeah. Of course… it’s really nice.”

You smile. For the rest of the night, you stop picturing him at a different house, back where his roots lie. Or him with his feet buried in the sand, staring into a foreign sunset. Peeking right into the different colours of the horizon where the ocean drinks the sky.

One part of you knows he deserves the vacation, utterly happy for his time away. Yet, you can’t deny that another half of you drowns in selfishness, urging you to ask him to stay. But you know there is no way to act upon this option, so you let the chaos in your mind continue.

Let your moods shift and alternate.

Your heart is fickle, and the conflict in it ever so steady. But in this very moment, with his arms wrapped around you and his lips ghosting your shivering skin, you think—

You’re happy.

The first day without him is a Monday.

The Monday your training finally – or unfortunately – begins.

When you wake up in the morning, you feel a strange sense of loneliness. It inundates you hard enough to render you frozen and planted against your mattress for a good ten minutes. And at first, you keep drifting back to him.

How is the drive going? Are he and his brother operating the vehicle alternatively? Should you text him?

Probably not.

Growing attached to him was inevitable; but it doesn’t mean you should get attached to his absence, too. So you shuffle under your thin blanket, sitting up with scruffy hair before you straighten your back and tackle the day.

You take out your best white collar shirt and dark skirt. You’re not sure how a trainee dresses, which speaks against you from the very first minute, considering you’ll be inheriting an entire clothing business.

But no one looks at you weird.

In fact, they don’t look much at you at all.

You realise that being the founders’ daughter doesn’t mean a thing to the staff – to them, you’re a friendly newbie, inexperienced and lost like a doe in the forest. With the year-long labour they put into this brand, they’re confident and focused.

The mentor assigned to you is a woman not much older than you. Her name is Zara, and her face as well as her walk fit the occupation just right. As a picture perfect employee, she carries a folder at all times, her keratin-treated hair straight and lips coloured in long-lasting lipstick.

She’s nice to you – she doesn’t brush off your comments the way others do. Even though you merely observe most of the time, she attempts to include you in conversations, no matter how little you have to contribute.

Following her steps is easier than following those of your parents; before they forwarded you to her, they gave you a quick tour through the building. An exhausting task, accompanied by hurried explanations – of course, they had better and more important places to be.

Meetings, you realise, are less and more stressful at the same time. The discussions are calm and soft; everyone lets the other speak. But simultaneously, there aren’t always solutions to issues – and it makes your co-workers’ foreheads wrinkle in fatigue.

And you also realise that, despite today being your first day, you perfectly understand everything they utter. You studied for a degree in this area for years – it’d be a waste if you didn’t catch the references talked about in all those meetings.

Stocks, brand new trends, the stores, new ideas, patterns and materials… the list goes on. How to win new customers. Memberships and clubs. New goals and who’s supposed to do what.

“The problem with the membership we offer is that less and less people are interested in it,” Zara explains, standing at the front, leading the meeting, “and the cashiers are frustrated. The customers they ask to join the member club decline immediately, and those who don’t…”

“They still don’t use their accounts,” another staff member, a guy in a dark blue shirt, continues, “even after setting them up. Our cashiers are annoyed, because playing around in the app takes ages, just for the customers to not use it next time anyway.”

Your mind circles around a hundred ideas. And when Zara hums back, crossing her arms, you gather an ounce of courage and raise your hand.

Zara’s eyes widen, and she looks at you in delight, flashing a bright smile before she urges, “Yeah? Go ahead! You don’t need to raise your hand.”

A light but friendly chuckle goes around the table, and you lick your lips before you ask, “Would they still decline after a ten percent offer?”

And suddenly, a murmur echoes through the room. Furrowed eyebrows and confused hums mingle, and the guy who spoke before, wonders, “What offer?”

“Well, I mean…” You’re suddenly self-aware, not sure if you want to speak on. “In the app. Customers can collect points and get coupons for their birthdays and stuff, right? Twenty-five percent off on their special days… or fifteen percent off when they’ve collected a good amount of points and all.”

“Yeah, of course,” Zara confirms, shifting her weight to her other leg, “that’s the whole point of it.”

“Yes, but…”

Now that you think back, you never truly paid much attention to the Charmante app. But you do remember…

“We don’t have a coupon for starters. Every other shop and brand does,” you say, leaning forwards. “So what if we established a ten percent off coupon for those who become new members of our brand?”

Watching the satisfied and impressed looks around you, you smile proudly, biting your lower lip for a moment before you add, “People like to shop at expensive stores, but they’re still greedy. They like to save wherever they can.”

A few people laugh – not because they’re mocking you, but because they’re fascinated by you. Zara pulls up a corner of her mouth, amused and satisfied, and tells you, “You’ll fit in well.”

To which you reply, “I’ll work hard.”

It’s the first time in ages that you feel a semblance of motivation. Even though the information you inhale is somewhat overwhelming, you imagine yourself at the front, giving lectures or coming up with ideas that might mean your success or your ruins.

A dreadful yet exciting image.

When you walk through the door of your house this evening, you feel your knees buckle. Exhausted and cracking your bones, you realise how fast today’s hours passed. You were barely able to scroll through your phone.

And now that you look at the screen, four notifications pop up, all by the same man, lighting up your expression.

In hindsight, you didn’t have much time to think about Jungkook today. There’s a life outside your feelings for him – but it doesn’t mean it affects your heart less to see his name flashing on your phone.

But before you can open the messages, a sudden voice breaks you out of your distraction.

“More important calls?” your mother asks, sweeping the jacket off her shoulders. You reckon she got home just a little before you.

“Oh… no,” you say, “Jungkook texted me.”

“Ah…”

The discomfort sits deep between you whenever you mention him. She regards you with another judgemental look, and you inhale a deep breath, trying not to snap.

But you guess you don’t have to.

Because she starts the topic anew, asking, “He’s on vacation?”

“He went to his childhood home. Yeah.”

“You were saying he’s going to some resort.”

“Yeah,” you repeat, dry and devoid of patience. You don’t want to talk about this. “He will. Later. He’s spending most of his time back home. And then he’ll–”

“What’s that resort? Where is it?”

You’re not sure why she cares so much. But you can’t exactly dodge her questions; after all, they’re not infuriating enough to walk away just yet. So you give her the name of the location, expecting another breathed vocal; but what she says is worse.

“He could afford that?”

And that’s when the fury kicks in.

There were too many comments these days; if this was the first, you might have been able to brush it off. But…

“It’s not your business what he does or doesn’t do,” you tell her, ready to step away before she speaks again.

“He’s your boyfriend. And an artist without a job, I—”

“It’s not. Your damn business,” you snarl, gritting your teeth, “we sell clothes. Those you decided to design years ago. How’s that type of art different?”

Heat creeps up your face, your nails digging into your palm before you release it. But your mother doesn’t falter, the crossing of her arms providing the illusion of superiority as she queries, “It is different. We sell them, our company is huge. Jungkook doesn’t even have a studio yet, has he?”

“Yet. He will–”

“And if he doesn’t? He doesn’t take care of it, but books an expensive vacation?”

What the fuck.

The disrespect oozing out of her words hurts a spot deep within you. These days are supposed to be relaxing for him – someone on the other side of the country shouldn’t be bashing his social status when he’s just trying to live.

Middle classes mean nothing to your overbearing parents – because he’s not poor. Not a moneyless habitant of your town that they reckon him to be – you want to tell them.

You want to explain that he comes from a perfectly stable family that raised him to be the amazing person you know him as. Struggles with impossible college fees, that Eun or Tae or Yoongi undoubtedly waded through too, don’t make him unworthy of your attention.

You want to tell her.

But you know it won’t do anything.

“Mom, he…” you begin as your eyes begin to dampen, your throat swallowing the sob. “They all paid for the vacation. They’re travelling without any trouble and having fun… why are you saying all that?”

The furrowing eyebrows and judging tone piss you off – entirely wreck your nerves the more your parents talk.

But real agony only arrives when you find yourself questioning the same things; her gaslighting shatters your heart as you ask yourself: What will Jungkook do when he comes back? What if he doesn’t find something good enough to ensure a good, healthy, worry-free life?

And worst of all, what if he doesn’t settle successfully and your parents do end up forcing you to break up with him?

When did you stop thinking of everything between you as a facade and started to see him as someone who truly belongs to you; someone you want to keep?

Discomfort overtakes your body; you don’t want anyone else anymore. Don’t want to marry a random douchebag who’d neglect you and your wishes and focus on business solely.

When you fall into your bed that evening, you’re keen on doing nothing but laying here until you fall asleep eventually. You clutch your phone in your palm tightly, regretting every doubt that takes over your mind in the worst moments.

But when you look at the messages he sent… the picture of his smile staring back at you from your screen, his arm wrapped around his brother’s shoulders and eyes squinting from the blinding countryside sun, you feel a spark in your chest that wets your waterline further.

Jungkook [5:36PM]: i got home safely Jungkook [5:37PM]: it’s so unbearably hot, i might DIE

You laugh; then read on.

Jungkook [6:13PM]: i hope you’re doing okay. i’m thinking of you

And you, weak to his words, with a fluttering heart, can’t help but smile like a teenage girl. You hide your face under the blanket, feeling affection bloom – perhaps he feels as warm about you as you do about him.

Already patient for when he returns, you wonder whether he’ll be just as yearnful as you. But for now, you’re happy he’s okay, bringing your fingers to your keyboard, your eyes tired.

You [8:22PM]: U might be busy or napping, but I’m thinking of u too… Never forget sunscreen, okay?

Tuesday and Wednesday pass as fast as Monday did.

Perhaps it’s the rush of adrenaline you feel whenever you enter your work building. The labour you dreaded your entire life proves half as bad as expected, and in some of the moments you spend between the walls of the conference rooms, you’re happy to be here.

Jungkook gives you daily updates about his summer down south. He never calls, and you always see his texts late – between rushing to different meetings and coming home to eat, shower and sleep, you don’t get much of a breather.

And when you do, opening the dozen messages that come in whenever he has something to tell you, you find him still awake. He’s always there. As though he’s waiting for you; as though he needs just a little goodbye for the day to fall asleep peacefully.

Tonight, you cuddle up in your thin blanket as you do every day. You smile and grin in anticipation, tiny fluttering butterflies roaming your tummy; no matter how motivating work gets, it doesn’t compare to the beauty of these moments.

Jungkook [4:29PM]: look at this parrot.. he’s my cousin’s, i think he likes me Jungkook [4:30PM]: i talked to him about city life today and he wouldn’t stop repeating ur and tae’s name :D

A goofy laugh escapes your mouth, and you bite your lower lip with your heart in your throat. Reading his messages, he doesn’t feel as far away as he is.

Like he’s texting you from his dorm… pressed into his bed with an open window, enjoying the same breeze as you.

Jungkook [5:48PM]: i hope u had a good day at work. i’ve finally escaped jiji’s clutches, because he’d ramble on and on and screech when i tried to leave smh Jungkook [5:55PM]: jiji is the parrot btw Jungkook [6:03PM]: also, i saw ur fav flower in my cousin’s garden and it reminded me of u

One update after another – keeping you in loop, keeping you informed, keeping you close to his heart. He never forgets about you, no matter what he does.

Jungkook [7:24PM]: angel Jungkook [7:24PM]: can i call u tonight?

Your insides jump. Warmth and ecstasy spread across your chest – with the separation, it seems that his thoughts snuck closer to you. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder; perhaps it’s what’s wrapping your existence tighter around his own pumping organ.

Or at least, you hope it does.

The message came in barely half an hour ago – even if the late night conversations of the last few days didn’t prove Jungkook’s night owl behaviour, you’d know he’s still awake now.

You gulp as you press the call button in the top right corner, closing your eyes instead of staring at your starry ceiling. The ringing tortures you for a few moments too long, and you worry you might be redirected to the mailbox ultimately.

But as it goes, he picks up after the fifth chime. You hear the chatter in the background before you hear his greeting; and his voice is soft, sober and clear as he says, “Hey there.”

“Hi,” you murmur timidly, as though you’re talking to a lover on the other side of the world. “How are you?”

“We’re uh, having a barbecue. So I can’t complain.”

Laughter sounds through the phone, and a few people clap. His relatives know how to have fun, and your heart aches for a bond you haven’t gotten familiar with yet.

How would it feel to be there with him, drinking the night away, your shoulder close to his as you forget the world around you?

How would it feel – as comforting as you do right now?

“How are you?” he asks, unbothered by the sounds around him.

You hear people call his name, and he pauses for moments to provide a rushed answer; but his focus never sways from you. Delighted and flattered, you tell him, “I’m good. Work was great… they’re liking my ideas.”

“Of course. I knew they would.”

A short silence follows; though it’s not too quiet as your hum and tender laugh, along with the joyful night, fill the gap between your words. But when you hear the music roar through speakers, your gentle sounds morph into a surprised chuckle, and he asks, “What?”

“You’re blasting Linkin Park.”

“No,” Jungkook argues, “my cousin’s teenage son is blasting Linkin Park… and Green Day. Isn’t it perfectly fitting for a barbecue?”

The sarcasm dripping from his tone is unmistakable – but he and Chester Bennington’s voice keep you entertained.

You say, “Having teenagers still listen to classics is rare these days, Kook. Appreciate it.”

“Oh?” The timbre of his voice is sweet; you feel at peace. “Damn. You were that kinda kid.”

“I… perhaps.”

“I was, too,” he admits, “I used to make playlists for him when he was younger. So guess where that chaos is coming from.”

“Speaking of…” You turn in your bed, groaning a little, and stare at the slowly darkening summer sky and the sunset. “Why aren’t you joining the chaos?”

He sniffles; a habit of his, followed by a deep inhale of fresh air before he answers, “I already ate a lot.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I be lying?”

“You can barely talk when you’re full. Like, actually full. So what are you doing, telling me to call?”

He laughs. A soft sound, pleasant and warm. A melody that past componists would be delighted to hear.

You’re attempting to scold him – his wish to call you, however, floods your chest with undeniable affection.

And he doesn’t help your cause and your poor heart when his chuckle dies down, giving way to a sigh before he confesses, “I… I dunno. I wanted to hear your voice.”

You pause for a moment. Aware that he’s awaiting your response; most likely aware that he’s put your thoughts in sheer disorder. Why are you surprised? You knew, could foresee that that’s where his intention lay before you called.

Right when you saw his message – you knew.

Does that stop your skin from allowing goosebumps to sprawl all over? Of course not.

“How does it feel then?” you ask softly, a hint of new diffidence in your question. “To hear my voice.”

“Cosy… familiar.”

And considering that he’s in the cosiest and most familiar setting right now that his life has ever known… your body bursts into flames.

Because you know what he means. He’s cosy to you, too. Familiar to you, too.

Like… home?

“And…” He starts the sentence with hesitation. There’s a hidden emotion in his pauses; you hear him suck in a breath. Register and blend out the noises from the party. “Angel, I…”

He what?

You don’t know. You don’t get to know.

A call of his name makes you flinch out of your haze, and you blink at your window, swallowing a thick knot. Hastily, Jungkook answers the male voice, throwing a few playful curses at him, and when the brief conversation is done, he says, “I’m… I think they want me back.”

They and you share a mutual wish.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” you tell him, clutching your phone. Your cheeks are hot, your heart thumping. “Go. We can talk later or tomorrow.”

Persistent, holding onto hope, he says, “Later sounds cool… but rest if you need to.”

“Yeah. Yes, I will. You too… and have fun.”

And that’s it for tonight, you think.

A barbecue party goes late into the night – you won’t be awake by then, deep in a slumber, ready to awake to another busy day at work before ending it with his gentle words.

As you prepare yourself for sleep, you indulge in a hobby or two.

You grab your laptop, watch a few dozen short clips of kittens and puppies. Then you read a few anecdotes, google the authors and the stories’ interpretations. You spend your evening productively, albeit with tired, drooping eyes.

The perfect end to the day feels satisfying and lovely, like a proper summer day – but somewhere inside, you might be expecting something more. Maybe another conversation that makes your mind wander to hopeful roads.

And as though the starry universe has heard your silent pleas, your phone vibrates again more than an hour and a half later. It lights up the same moment your mind does – and when you unlock it, you muffle your laughter.

Jungkook [9:37PM]: wtf is a phne good for if i don’t us it ??? Jungkook [9:37PM]: use* Jungkook [9:38PM]: am videocallin ok be reddyyyy

He’s… what?

A moment later, your phone shakes harder, your ringtone shrill in your calm room. Your eyes widen and you sit up straight, tucking your hair behind your ears and clearing your throat before you exclaim, “Holy fuck.”

Why this renders you this nervous, you don’t know – but your tense muscles don’t relax much even when you finally do pick up the call.

His screen is empty – the light is dim wherever he is. But he’s on the move, walking towards something; and you only realise that he’s aware you’ve taken the call when he raises the lowered phone to his face and mumbles, “Hello, pretty one.”

Your eyes dart to your moving self on the screen, and you check your appearance until you admit that you could be looking a lot worse.

“Are you okay?”

Jungkook nods, enters his room, closes the door behind him and plummets onto his bed with a groan. You still don’t see much more than darkness until he switches on the light on his bedside table.

And the sight leaves you breathless and giggling at once.

Dark eyes hide from you, strands of hair covering parts of them. He’s wearing a long-sleeved, dark grey sweater, and when he raises a hand to his chin, you see that he’s pulled the fabric over his hands, rubbing his skin with sweater paws.

“You’re…” you start; the wide smile hurts your face, “you’re wearing a bucket hat.”

A dark one that matches his sweater and his eyes; apparently, he doesn’t notice until you point it out. Because he voices a small, “Huh?”, gaze shooting up, and when he realises what you mean, he smirks delightfully.

Pulling it off his head, he throws the hair out of his eyes, ruffling it with usually nimble fingers that don’t seem to know what they’re doing today. His tongue peaks out between his teeth before he closes his mouth to pout in concentration.

He uses the front camera to save his messy hair, and when he’s done, you inquire again, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m okay, yeah, the party just ended.”

“And your first instinct was to call me?”

“Yeah, of course! I needed to tell you, though,” he begins, and you listen carefully. “Something happened when I was helping out with the pork and kimchi.”

“Really? What was it?”

You talk to him as you would with sleepy, extra sappy Eun. Like a child that needs its hair stroked until it dozes off in your lap. Like you would when you were little, listening to the cooing of your babysitter.

Because you know… You know that he’s—

“Are you drunk, Kookie?” you ask, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“They wouldn’t stop pouring me all kinds of shit.”

“Did you want them to stop?”

“No, but…” He waits, his cheeks rosy; he looks down as if he’s embarrassed. “Look, I swear I can hold my liquor better. Usually.”

He covers his mouth with his paws for a moment and yawns, and your fingers ache to grab his face and pull him close to you. Litter kisses all over his skin, listen to his giggles, watch him breathe in serenity until he falls asleep on your chest.

You want to take care of him – want to laugh about his innocent, inebriated state until he sobers up.

It’s different from the last time you two got drunk together at a dim-lighted, bustling club…

“My brother spent the better half of the night mocking me,” Jungkook narrates, though his words overlap, somewhat mumbled, “don’t you do it, too.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me what happened.”

You swallow your emerging grin when you watch his eyes light up, his stance straight as he starts, “I think I burned myself a little.”

“You… what?”

Out of all the important information he could deliver at almost ten on a Thursday night, this isn’t what you expected. And you can’t help but laugh, surprise overshadowing your worries by a teeny tiny bit.

“Is it bad?” you ask, sighing, shaking your head when he pulls back the sleeve of his sweater.

“It was raining and all, so we waited before continuing the barbecue,” he explains; he looks worn out, in dire need of sleep. “And when the rain stopped, it was still so windy, and a damn leaf – a damn leaf, angel, it hit me right in my face and—”

Holy crap.

Is this real? It sounds like a motif straight out of a nonsensical, dramatic Samuel Beckett story.

“And my hand dropped… my pinky accidentally touched the edge of the grill and it still burns.”

He lifts said pinky to the camera; you squint, inching closer, but the quality of the video call doesn’t allow much insight to his injuries. You register faint gloss on his skin, though, as if his finger is covered in sweat – nothing else.

In truth, the burn might not be too bad at all – maybe he needed an excuse to call as much as you needed one to stay awake.

“Did you let cold water run over it?” you ask; despite the missing evidence, you can’t help but be worried.

He nods, smiling, and reassures, “I put some ointment against burns, too.” That explains the odd gloss. “It helps.”

“Yeah? That’s good to hear, Kookie.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his gritted teeth like a child, elated about your words – and you don’t understand why until he tells you, “You know how much I love it when you call me that?”

“Call you what?” you ask, but then your eyebrows shoot up to the sky, your lips forming a fond grin. “Oh… Kookie?”

“Ah, shit, I love it,” he repeats. “No matter in what context, I really do. Can you record it, so I can set it as my ringtone?”

You laugh.

Drunk Jungkook is one of your favourites – never rude or drifting into collossally unbearable moods. You’d know those – Eun is the perfect representation of an annoying drunk. But he’s a bundle of happiness and tiny praises; his words are small, but they pierce through you.

And for some reason, his gentle joy leaves you nervous. Not about the relationship between you, but about the emotions that bubble in your stomach, caught in his tenderness and big, dark eyes.

“Anything for you, of course,” you assure matter-of-factly, breathing when he does.

A spark of unending glee flickers through your body day in, day out. Since Jungkook and you got closer and you learned to enjoy your job, something seems to have shifted in your world. In just the right angle, flooding you with satisfaction.

If there was a magnificent, new and groundbreaking way to thank him for how he makes you feel about yourself, you’d go that road immediately.

Flashing a honey sweet smile in your direction, Jungkook leans back, content and happy. He looks at you, bringing his palm to his lips before he kisses his hand and throws the gathered affection towards you.

Slowly and with shimmering eyes, he watches your expressions change.

This is new. You want more of it – and he didn’t even touch you.

It truly was just—

“Did you just send me a flying kiss, Jeon Jungkook?”

“And if I did?” Nonchalantly, he shrugs his shoulders, but the amusement in his visage reveals his delight. And if it didn’t, his next words surely do, “It’s the least I could do… I can’t really be with you and give you an actual kiss, can I?”

Is that what he wants to do?

Is the harmless gesture thrown through a phone screen really a sign for what he truly wishes for?

And if that’s what he wants… could his definition of an actual kiss be different than yours?

With the question weighing on your heart for weeks, you open the lock in your throat and swallow it away. For a moment, you nibble your lips, pulling the words you need to say into a sentence before you ask, “Have you… uh. Ever noticed that we’ve never really kissed before?”

The confusion spreads across his countenance the way you expected it to. He raises one eyebrow, the curves of his lips turning into a clueless pout. And then, everything shifts as he laughs, shaking his head, and asks, “Angel, I know you’re delirious when we sleep together, but—”

It’s dumb. It’s stupid – perhaps even strange. But you can’t help but feel the fuzzy bubbles toy with your heart; is it normal to feel that way just because he didn’t use the word fuck? Just because he called it sleeping together?

Your body aches for him to do it again – not to fuck you, but to sleep with you. The way he did after the club… or…

“—but you can’t be that oblivious whenever my mouth touches yours, right?”

“No, I mean… we’ve never had a proper kiss before. Like, no tongues and teeth and all. Just… a harmless kiss, I guess?”

Those stutters between your words are utterly annoying and unsolicited. But your words still do affect at least some of him – because something is happening right now.

You see it in the way the emotions in his eyes change. His muscles relax, the invisible fog floating in his mind clearing a bit. He looks a little more sober now – you know he’s understood.

So, as his voice drops deeper, pure, unadulterated care in his tone, he questions, “Is that something you want?”

Of course. Of course, you idiot.

“I don’t know,” you blurt, blinking. He crosses his arms and leans forward; hair strands fall into his eyes. “I’m just saying. And was curious what you thi—”

“I think,” he interjects, speaking softly. The overjoyed, thrilled tone from before has subsided and given way to serenity. “I think I’ve thought about it before, too… but just figured…”

He figured – he figured what?

That you weren’t mutually hoping for the same thing that was coursing his mind? Why else would he have thought about it?

Jungkook doesn’t finish his sentence – instead, sighs, throwing the hair out of his face again. Then, he promises, “Then. When I come back… okay?”

A promise indeed – if he was here, he’d probably tuck your hair behind your ears. He’d tilt his head, smile, flash bunny teeth. Maybe press a kiss against your forehead… maybe opt for your lips.

“Okay,” you say.

Is that what him coming back will mean? The absence of his tongue, but in turn, all the more mingling of your mouths. For the weeks that are to come, you’ll need to wade through the days patiently… and find out once you can touch him again.

With a nod, you close the topic, and he proceeds to speak about his recent days, intertwined with stories of the past. He mentions more injuries, tells you about swimming in the lake, narrates how he cried when he swallowed too much salt water in elementary school.

Then, you do a 360 and land back on the devastating burn he suffered today. Laughter and inside jokes follow, and once he’s reiterated the happening for the umpteenth time, you ask, “You just called me to tell me about the burn?”

“Yeah…”

He waits. Nods a little, looks at his hands – then up to you, his cheeks flushed. When he speaks again, you feel the beat of your heart in the middle of your throat.

“But I think… also to tell you that I miss you. Yeah… that too.”

Your nails dig into the same sheets he crinkled up merely a few days ago; and whispering an utter understatement, you tell him that you miss him, too.

The personalised carvings on the cutlery might be the biggest indicator for home yet.

Jungkook’s grandfather’s parents let the flowery patterned dishes carve ages ago. Thinking about it, it’s a little strange to eat from a plate that reveals his surname as soon as he’s scarfed down his food.

Or to rub a thumb over decade-old spoons that have been traditionally passed as though they’re the most important heirloom.

But they give a sense of home, along with the warm light in the dining room, the homemade food, the fact that he’s not sitting at his desk in a tiny dorm and swallowing one cup of noodles after another. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to reach this level of comfort in his new apartment, too.

Those emotions are always overwhelming when he finds himself between the walls of his old house. He welcomes the scent of the countryside – it’s not as vibrant or foul as in the city.

But there are reminders.

Ones that shift Jungkook’s focus back to where he left his heart – because it sure as hell doesn’t beat in his chest right now. No matter the peace his hometown brings. No matter how warm and sweet the air is.

And as expected, his extended family, siding with his parents, doesn’t make it easier for him to dwell in the nostalgia of his home. Rather, they focus on whatever – or whoever – awaits him in the city.

“Do you have a girlfriend yet?” his aunt asks, nosy and curious as ever. This must be the umpteenth question she’s uttered since dinner was served.

If she wasn’t as kind as she is, Jungkook might have rolled his eyes and stomped to his room an hour ago, the way he usually, casually, subtly used to do with annoying relatives.

“No,” Jungkook shoots. With a spoonful of dinner in his mouth, he laughs, taking in the surprise in his aunt’s eyes before he adds, “But what if I said yes?”

His parents eye the family members with knowing smirks. Sipping on sparkling water, their gazes dart between his aunt and her daughter; a cousin Jungkook loved to fight up to the age of sixteen.

She’s younger than him – a college student now and an occasional conversation partner. The venomous arguments that used to plague their parents are no more – in fact, Ria must know more about Jungkook’s private life than anyone, barring Yoongi, Taehyung and you.

So, she exclaims, arms folded on the table, “Bullshit. You’re dating this pretty, rich one and everyone knows.”

“Ah,” Jungkook voices, amused when Ria’s mother hides behind her glass of red wine. “Do we now?”

“I didn’t wanna ask so bluntly.”

He cocks an eyebrow, playful eyes scolding respectfully as he argues, “I’d rather you did.”

And that’s when the storm erupts; a hurricane of inquiries twirls, one question after another striking him like lightning. Jungkook laughs and chuckles, doe eyes as wide as the Grand Canyon. They glimmer at your mention, even though he doesn’t necessarily know what answers he should provide.

“I’ve heard of her!” his aunt chimes.

“How is she?” his dad then interrupts.

And Jungkook responds, “Everyone might have heard of her” and “She’s…”

Only to get interrupted by the duo that his aunt and Ria are, teasing, “Is she a snob? I’ve heard rich people like to brag.”

Of all people he’s ever met, snob might be a term most unfitting for you. High school proved that no one is worse than kids with enough money to travel to different islands twice a year. As far as he reckons, you could purchase your own island – but your humility extends his own at times.

Cheap greasy food… quiet, green parks. Clothes of his that he throws over you when you spend the night, your hair in a messy bun at college, evenings spent in arcades and hidden cinemas of the city.

That’s your aesthetic; you’re a mixture of everything good, and no particle of you screams unpleasant.

“She’s not a snob,” he answers. With his stare lowered to the carved dishes, the light tug of his smile suggests a hint of gloom. His voice might be steady, but his eyes are faint. “She’s pretty cool, actually.”

The parents present on the table look at each other with satisfaction; they see the timid emotions hiding behind the man’s foggy gaze. They notice the fondness and whatever he keeps veiled in his heart.

But Ria… she’s the only one who sees the struggles haunting his mind.

When dinner has ended and small talk dissipated, Jungkook and Ria load the dishwasher, indulging in the adults’ drunk conversations about whatever married couples talk about. Handing his cousin one of the plates, he meets her eyes to register the stinging stare.

She smiles at him, and he flashes a smile back. The silent affair isn’t awkward until she keeps looking, and insecurity spreads across Jungkook’s chest before he queries, “What?”

“I was just wondering…” Ria shakes her head slowly, careful blinks accompanying her words, “Are you ever gonna bring her here?”

He doesn’t need to ask to know who she means; it’s not like you ever leave his thoughts anyway. He thinks for a moment, orbs fixated on the speck of tomato sauce on a plate. Forwarding it to Ria, he shifts his focus on the cutlery, and then asks, “You want me to?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then I will,” he promises, “I just need to figure stuff out.”

“Like what?

“Like. Things I can’t explain.”

“Koo,” Ria starts; she angles her head with squinting eyes, looking into the depths of his soul as though she’s developing an x-ray-sight. “That’s the lamest excuse known to mankind. You can’t use it on me.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath and eyes his family. They’re busy with meaningless chit-chat, not paying much attention to what conversation might be emerging in one corner of the kitchen.

With a miniscule nod, he leans against the counter; his eyes flit to the ceiling with his mind travelling the distance between him and you. Somewhere near your porch or near your room, perhaps even close to your chest, he sees his own heart pounding – right where he left it.

Right where all his little turbulent thoughts lay, a thousand and millions of diverging emotions that fit neither here nor there. There’s no category for them… so what is he supposed to tell the curious girl next to him?

“I wish I could formulate it.”

But it’s not good enough for Ria – or perhaps, she’s already aware of the answer and is tempting it out of him.

She places a damp hand on his shoulder; he doesn’t mind, too focused on the thunder in his head. Instead, he looks at her, immediately thrown off by the empathetic gaze she wears; and suddenly, it’s easy to cave in.

“Stuff like. I want to feel like I can be someone she deserves and needs.” The words surprise him more than they surprise Ria. If this was the first time, the corners of her mouth might have twitched more. “Not in a survival sense, but just—”

“You weren’t like this before, Kook.”

“Like what?”

“So…” Ria hums, sighing, and a memory flashes through her brain before she adds, suddenly understanding, “scared.”

It’s not like he’s never thought about his fears before. They’re present now and then, and with the distance the summer puts between the two of you, he can’t help but drown in his worries some more. From so far away, your existence feels realer now – a lifebuoy won’t save him anymore.

So he says, “I wanna be right for her.”

Which is tough – it proves every day, every time he imagines how the next weeks and months might go. What, you’ll climb up the ladder of success and he’ll fight for clients who are willing enough to buy his art for a fair price?

No. Fuck.

There’s too much to think about – too many thought processes he needs to rush through before he can tell you what he needs to tell you.

“You can’t just go through girls, because you got your heart broken by Nara, Kook,” she argues.

But Jungkook interrupts, immediately correcting, “Ria, this break up wasn’t what you keep thinking. It wasn’t this huge, devastating apocalypse and my world didn’t collapse or whatever.”

She grimaces when he dries his hand on a cloth and begins to walk away, but follows him closely as he approaches his room. The words he uttered are exactly those she often used to describe the separation between Nara and him.

Only for him, leaving his ex never felt that way.

It should have, right?

It should have destroyed him, burned him inside out. He should feel crappy as hell whenever he sees her walk around campus or town, should feel his guts drop when she smiles at him at stupid frat parties.

But that’s not what it is.

“I was with her for years… and relationships just come with so much sacrifice,” Jungkook explains, “when we fell in love first, we were all rainbows and butterflies. And suddenly we were fighting all the time, and she needed me to be one way, then I wanted her to be another way.”

He shakes his head, leading the way. His fingers brush the railing at the small staircase as he continues, “All the time that goes into love is ridiculous. Only to end up hurt… I can’t do this to her, too. Not if her life is just—”

Torturously different.

You live days with a celebrity status that he can’t keep up with – feeling these things seems wrong at times. But staying away from you has become harder than selflessness.

“This is,” Ria says, placing a hand on his arm to stop him in his tracks. He turns to glare at her, but his eyebrows relax when she smiles. “So stupid, it barely makes sense.”

She says it in a playful, teasing tone – and he can’t deny the slight smirk that creeps up on his face as she adds, “I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid, but they are excuses that you’re using to deny everything you two have going on.”

Oh, if she knew…

If she knew what hides behind your relationship.

Ria removes the hair out of his face, freeing his forehead; the gesture is gentle, like of a big sister he never had. It’s odd – how she feels like a gentle caretaker when it was him who’d defend her from rude teenage boys. No matter the amount of banter.

“Why would you not be right for her?” she asks, shifting from one leg to the other. “Did you hurt her or something? Has she ever said anything?”

Has he hurt you?

“I don’t know.”

Have you ever said anything?

No. You didn’t need to.

You infiltrated his thoughts and warmed his chest by doing nearly nothing. Co-existing and being with him, perhaps, affected him worse than anything you could ever say.

And that’s what’s important in a relationship, isn’t it?

Breathing next to each other in peace. Arguing your way through a conversation, just to find yourself joking about idiocy, in each other’s arms or laughing into the other’s neck.

Walking along the path of an empty park; listening to music with closed eyes; turning into unknown alleyways to get lost on purpose, just for the thrill of it. Kissing down your body, touching your goosebumps, wording things carefully so you understand but don’t push him away.

In such a short time, he’s learned about sides of you no one else might know.

A relationship can be like that… maybe not everything is a waste of time.

Or at least, with you.

“No… no, she never said anything… bad,” he finally answers, swallowing the lump in his throat, “she never did.”

Ria doesn’t answer. Maybe the lack of words is enough for him to understand her point. He smiles a little, and her lips pull upwards as a gesture of affection. She’s grown, his little cousin. Has started to understand things he’s still blind to.

The childish, faux enmity they used to share years ago has long faded and given way to a bond that stays, no matter how many months of silence between them pass. Cautiously, he nudges her shoulder, and then says, “Thank you for appreciating me, by the way. Never thought it’d be you encouraging me like that.”

“Bitch… That’s frankly rude!” she exclaims, pushing his firm body backwards, and he laughs, “I never hated you, you know? You’re just an idiot.”

And he reckons she’s right.

An idiot for hiding. For letting his heart run wild.

For impulsively fishing out his phone once he’s in his room, dead tired, but selfish enough to think about calling you.

He wants to ask if you’re doing okay. If you ate and drank enough today. But most of all, he wants to know if you’d ever want to come here, with him, sitting in a round with Ria and his other cousins and friends.

But a glance at the clock holds him back after all, and instead of calling your number, he texts a simple “hellooo”, waits five minutes – and when you don’t answer, he wraps up the day once and for all.

Guess he’s safe for now – no random blurting of thoughts tonight.

Two weeks into the summer and diving into your job, you find yourself busy from the very start of your mornings.

Today is another one of your bustling and stressful days; not least of all, because you wake up late. But another reason for your unease arrives when you attend a meeting with one of your company partners.

You’ve gotten used to this room.

It’s white and grey, like any other meeting room, climatised and quiet, surrounded by glass. But the atmosphere feels different when you enter energised, only to have your mood tumble down when you see the familiar face on one of the chairs.

This morning, your mother insisted on accompanying you here, and now you understand why – because a white, gentle smile blinds you from the other side of the room, hands folded on the table.

Kim Seokjin is an icon in the business industry. Important for Charmante, an undeniably handsome bachelor, graced with features that have landed him in the newspaper in his teenage years once or twice.

You barely remember the scandals, but you do still recall that the hype died down fast.

You bet Seokjin has a top notch PR team that erases his traces fast, and the lack of interest he’d always show towards curious paparazzis only helped him gain back others’ respect.

There are a dozen things like these that make you want to keep your distance from him. But most of all, you stray because of the very recent, very fresh offer your parents dared to make.

Slowly, you near the table and your could-have-been-husband, and he smiles at you like you’re a long lost, old friend. You take a seat opposite from him, and when you grace him with a slight nod, he asks, “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” you shift in your seat, flash a brief glance at your mother, “but tired.”

“Ah, yeah. It takes a while to get used to that.”

Despite his obvious kindness, you can’t help but feel the tight clump tie up your chest.

Neither of you beats around the bush before the meeting starts – your mother does most of the talking, and you take notes diligently, occasionally dropping your pen to throw in comments.

The topics of further business deals and how you could symbiotically help each other soon become a conversation between the duo only. And when you see the newfound affection your mother houses for Seokjin, you stop speaking altogether.

Your fingers hold the pen, but they can’t seem to write a single word. The lingering fear that your mother might mention what you don’t want to be mentioned resides in the back of your mind. And it doesn’t ease until Seokjin rushes to make a call, assuring that it might help you elaborate on your plans.

In the silence of the room, you hear nothing but the rustling of your mother’s dress when she shifts. She gives you an obvious look, hesitation not part of her vocabulary as she blurts, “He’s amazing. Really damn smart and sweet.”

You sigh.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t choose him.”

“Mom.”

“I swear, I want the best for you. It’s just crazy to me that—”

That you’d be with Jungkook? Just an artist.

Unease paralysing your soul, you sit back, your gaze and your voice firm as you say, “I’m with Jungkook. That’s why… okay?”

Her mouth falls shut – coloured lips build a neutral line, and you avert your gaze from her cold demeanour the moment Seokjin comes back again. For a few awkward minutes more, the meeting continues, and when joyous cheers wrap up the brainstorming session, your mother comes to a stand.

Crafting a weak excuse, she flattens the fabric of her blazer and tucks back her hair. You follow her steps to leave the second she does, but her demanding hand stops you in your tracks, a sweet voice you barely recognise saying, “Why don’t you see off Seokjin?”

Her beloved Seokjin knows his way out – his eyes are as wide and surprised as yours. And you think you know what she’s hinting at, shamelessly ignoring the statement you uttered just minutes ago – if that’s her strategy of playing wingwoman, it’s incredibly unbidden.

You watch him organise a few papers, pushing them into his folder, and when you catch one stray paper that falls off the table mid-flight, he says, “Thank you.”

If you could, you’d ask if it’s okay to leave. But he doesn’t give you a chance – he calls your name, seeking your gaze before he asks, “How are you liking it here?”

“Good. I think I’m doing well.”

“Mmmh,” Seokjin voices in agreement; you’re not in the mood for small talk. “I liked your input today. I bet you’ll only get better.”

“Thanks.”

Silence descends for a few moments – the suffocating discomfort loiters around, and your feet itch to carry you away.

Seokjin, licking his full lips, smiles again, timidly admitting, “Hey… I can imagine why you’re hostile towards me—”

“I’m not really hostile towards y—”

“But just so you know,” he interjects, standing from his seat, “this whole marriage deal wasn’t my idea.”

Of course it wasn’t.

“Yeah. I didn’t think it was.” You wait and heave a sigh. Begin to understand what he means. “I just. I’m sorry to let this out on you. It’s just a sensitive topic and seeing you hit kinda hard.”

“I understand that.”

“And…”

And… so much. If you unpacked every thought floating in your brain, you’d still be here tomorrow, narrating a tale no one wants to hear. It’s enough of a ramble for you alone.

“Yeah?” he questions, tilting his head. There’s genuine warmth in his eyes – like he’s hiding innocence behind his gaze. “Your boyfriend… It’s about him, too, isn’t it?”

You smile a little.

Perhaps because of his mention alone; maybe you’re really down bad. Maybe you’re into this deep enough to be affected by this relationship – even if it’s fake, the others don’t know.

And the fact that they believe your act leaves you questioning whether it’s still actually an act.

“Well… yeah and no,” you tell him, inhaling, “one of your friends gave me shit at a club some time ago. Me less than Jungkook actually.” You halt your speech for a second, and then explain, “Jeon Jungkook… he’s my boyfriend.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows almost kiss, disbelief in his expressions as he inquires, “Which friend?”

“I don’t remember his name… I don’t even remember if I ever knew his name, but. It didn’t feel good.”

“I’m—” He hesitates, lost in thought for just the blink of an eye. “I feel like I can imagine who it was, though. And I’m sorry. I promise none of this was me.”

Could you hate him with such tenderness in his voice? His tone isn’t uptight, not serious; there’s no stick up his butt as there could be with someone as successful as him.

So you laugh a little, your eyebrows relaxing, and tease, “You left your scandalous days behind you, didn’t you?”

With a chuckling undertone, he answers, “I think you know best what’s behind those. Not everything really happened the way those people wrote it down. Being in the spotlight just sucks most of the time.”

Ha.

“Tell me about it…”

Your fingers brush the surface of the table, and suddenly you’re self-aware, not quite sure how to stand. The quietude in the room is strange, but somehow more comfortable than before.

Then, he says, “Hey… I really am sorry. I just,” he shrugs, pulling the strap of his bag further up his broad shoulder, “don’t want this whole thing to taint how you think of me… because I’m not one of the bad guys.”

He walks around the table in idle steps and a hand in the pocket of his trousers. “And just so you know – I’ll push neither me nor you into whatever our parents try to force upon us.”

Oh… and here you were thinking—

“You didn’t want it either?”

“No. I don’t wanna get married yet,” Seokjin scoffs, as though the mention of marriage is the punchline of a joke, “of course I don’t.”

There’s an understanding between you that you didn’t expect. One you can’t deny. And for a moment, your thoughts travel to whatever floats between Jungkook and you. For that one painful moment, you suddenly can’t imagine what a future with him might look like.

You in the spotlight… and he perceived as your shadow.

Funnily enough, though, he always feels like a chain of fairy lights to you. Like he demolishes all darkness, shadows and thunderous nights, and replaces them with golden warmth.

Life is a scary thing. And your doubts – they’re a scary emotion.

“It’s a pity,” Seokjin mumbles under a sigh, “but the right things will come to us at the right time. If they haven’t already.”

The rest of the day passes slowly – and it gives you plenty of time to think about Seokjin’s appearance this noon.

Despite his kindness, you don’t feel like your mother will back down; the fact that the relationship to your own mother is so tainted dampens your mood alongside other various reasons.

One of them materialises in the form of Jungkook – not necessarily something new. But tonight, the yearning takes a new shape and form. The unusually quiet day at work allowed too many missing hours; and when he calls this time, you still can’t seem to light up.

When your phone vibrates, the snapshot he sent you a few days ago greets you the moment your phone chimes. It shows a gentle smile, and he has his arm propped up on the dining table at his friend’s house – initially, he sent it to you as a joke.

Captioned it with, “Thought I looked nice today, so I figured you’d go crazy, too!”

And you did. You still do.

You pick up, and an elated voice sing-songs through the speaker, his video buffering until you see him wave at you. He checks on you, mumbling your name in exhaustion, never dozing off before he’s made sure you’re updated on his life and doing well.

Today, you can’t quite bring yourself to find your optimistic and chatty bones again. The aching truth is that the distance between and the time you get to think – no matter how clearer it makes your feelings to you – lets your thoughts wander into dangerous territories, too.

Guilt washes over you whenever he smiles at you – the fear of an uncertain future remains, and you wonder if you should tell him. Sometimes you think that you’d detach yourself from him if you could – but conversations like these prove that you can’t.

But you stay silent every night; even when he ends each call with a timid “I miss you” without exception.

Tonight, you shatter just a little – your voice cracks, drifting, losing volume whenever you attempt a fitting response. You talk about his relatives, about the food he ate, the beach he’ll see in a few days.

Something about this hard fall stings. No matter what you’ve grown to feel for him, you’re never sure what he’d say if you admitted them to him.

What’s the source of your overthinking? Why are such sickening thoughts, scrambled and senseless, ghosting through your mind at such an inconvenient time?

When you crack today, he notices. Stopping his narration, he leans forward, dark, damp hair strands covering his forehead. He called you right after his shower. Worried, he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Just annoyed by the heat,” you lie, sucking in a breath, “I wore a suit today.”

“In this heat?”

“Yeah, right?” you tell him. You wipe your tired eyes, focusing on the sparkles that form behind your eyelids. Anything to not look at him or at his dark, shimmering gaze. “It was suffocating.”

You attempt a feeble smile, but you know he looks right through you. The silence, his empathetic eyes, your hesitancy – you’re not exactly subtle with your discomfort.

“Hey…” he breathes; his eyes fall close a little, tired and ready to drift off. But he holds on, keeping the lights on as he repeats, “Are you okay?”

“I– I don’t know. Can you just… please come back, Jungkook?” you spit, your chest heaving.

The stress around you and your feelings are overwhelming; you let your emotions guide you, voicing your innermost thoughts. But your words still hit him unexpectedly – you see it when he shifts back, suddenly quiet. Only catching himself when you look up again.

“Just some more weeks, baby.”

How outrageous that a four-word-nickname can be so effective. Fuck love and everything that comes with it.

“Are you okay, Kook?” you ask back.

“Yes, I am,” he assures, and your heart calms down a fraction.

But you keep piercing him with further questions, “Are you eating and hydrating enough? Did you get tanned a lot? And you’re taking care of yourself, aren’t you?”

He chuckles lightly, your dull voice stinging in his heart – but your everlasting care washes waves of fondness through his veins. “Definitely. Yes. And yes again. I need to come back to you in one piece.”

Jungkook isn’t coming back to town, you think. Not to his apartment, his job, his streets and old routines.

But to you.

“Good,” you whisper, blinking away the lethargy, “you deserve a break and—”

“Alright, what’s wrong all of a sudden?” he finally asks.

You silence for a second.

Try to collect your thoughts and put them into words, a thin layer of fog covering your mind before you say, “It’s just. It sucks that you won’t be back for a while still.”

“I know.” His voice falls. He waits; then, with his tone honey sweet and soothing, like home, he mutters, “Hey… It’s okay. Time will pass. And just so you know. I might actually be closer to you than you think.”

You let out an endearing laugh again, pulling your lips into a pout he usually likes to release with his thumb. You still feel the gentle touch on your mouth as you ask, “How so?”

“Look outside.”

You roll onto your stomach and oblige, staring into the same sky you glanced the day before he left. And when he says his next words, you crumble into a million pieces, shattering like fragile glass.

“I think you’re seeing the same stars as I am. Don’t you think so, too?”

You don’t respond.

Not because you don’t want to.

The knot in your throat doesn’t let you.

Something that feels oddly like lovesickness grows in your chest and stomach. You continue to stare outside your window, humming quietly as you hear him comfort, “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be with you very soon, ‘kay?”

You’re thankful for his reassurances – the knots in your heart and stomach are enough to indicate how much they affect you.

Because every time he tells you things like that, you engrave them in your brain. Zeroing in whenever you get time to catch your breath and letting them fade into the back of your head when you get busy.

But all the time, he’s anchored deeply in your mind – some moments stand still because of him somehow.

And you wrap his words around your heart like a bandage.

Jungkook departs to the resort a few days later.

The both of you being busy somewhat serves as a way to kill time. It’s not that you can’t live without him – your life proves to be hectic enough to distract yourself. When he’s not there, you work towards your job, indulge in hobbies, hang out with Jimin or Eun.

It’s more the deeply rooted urge to know. To know where you stand, what you are to each other. The back and forth between sweet praises and platonic statements about friendship are smothering. Annoying. An itching ache.

And then, there’s your parents. Their eyes always linger on you when you mention his name, to the point you feel crowded and pressured.

And Jungkook.

His calls keep your vexation at bay, like therapy at the end of the day, or whenever one of you gets a break. With a giggle hiding your curiosity, you always ask if he’s still missing you – and he joins your joy.

A throaty, lovely chuckle that only dies down to tell you that yes, he still misses you, disappointed you’d think anything else, angel.

You try not to be blind towards yourself anymore; today’s afternoon only served as a proof to clear your mind. Ending the work day, Zara approached you with a simple how are you question, and you, naive, spilled your secrets in a heartbeat.

“You won’t ever know what he feels, if you don’t ask,” she so kindly offered as advice, playing her manicured finger on her chin before she’d continued, “But you both have this… blind-to-be-couple-syndrom, I think.”

Scoffing, you looked up from the papers and into her eyes; though, your laughter died soon when you saw how serious she looked.

“I don’t know him personally, but he seems to care about you more than a common friend would. And somehow, everyone around you will see both your feelings for each other. Everyone except you, that is.”

And you guessed she was right.

He’ll be back in less than two weeks. Then, you can vent about your personal troubles to him face to face, help him find a job, give him proper advice on how to proceed, so he can find success in life. You want to keep him, you really do – you just wonder if he wants that, too.

“I’ve something for you by the way. Two things actually. Reminded me of you,” he admits with a smile too devastating to endure, “but I won’t tell you until I’m back.”

A door creaks open in the background, and Jungkook stares up, cocking an eyebrow in annoyance as the voice of his brother questions, “You didn’t tell her yet what you did?”

“Stop fucking eavesdropping,” Jungkook curses, looking back at you as he recalls, “this was, like what, the third time?”

“This isn’t fair,” you argue, ignoring his complaints, “what does he mean you did something?”

His brother, still outside the frame, answers, “Oh, you’re gonna die.”

“What the fuck.”

Jungkook stands from his bed for a minute, and you witness a playful argument, hear more swearing, faint noises and the shutting of a door. When he sits, you whine some more, trying again, “What was that?!”

“Nothing,” he attempts. He must be aware how obvious his lie is – you want to tickle the answer out of him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why’s teasing such a fun task to you?” you ask, digging the heels of your feet into your mattress with childlike annoyance lacing your visage.

“I get to hear these reactions when I do. Incomparable.”

You laugh, shaking your head before you relax your muscles on your soft bed. The mattress isn’t as soft as with him next to you as you tell him that you’ll be here – waiting.

“You look excited today.”

Music chimes through speakers in the café, and you tap your foot along to the rhythm of the song. Leaning forwards, you shrug your shoulders, watching Jimin and his fork toy with the pie as you say, “I’m in a good mood… yeah.”

Which is what you deserve.

The encounter with Seokjin and your mother’s eyes draped a metal blanket around your mind. Days have passed, and you dodge your parents’ gazes and words successfully – work is going well, the weather is pleasant, and on top of that, Jungkook is returning soon.

“Look who’s missing her boyfriend,” he jokes, “you’re so down bad.”

But you don’t let his cocky smirk throw you off. Instead, you say, “God, you’re the total opposite of Zara.”

“Zara, your mentor lady?”

“She said Jungkook and I have blind-couple-syndrome.”

Jimin mumbles your name with a slight laugh, expressing, “The fact that you don’t even need to explain it to me and I still know says a lot.” His dislike for Jungkook is often apparent – but you’re thankful when he caves into your happiness, saying, “But I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

You nod. You guess you are.

“He’s bringing me something from the island he went to.”

“It’s,” he starts, his expression comically serious, “his dick in a package.”

“You… shut the fuck up,” you throw a napkin at him, and he dodges it with a laugh. “You’re the one talking,” you shoot back, squinting, “acting like you don’t blush every time someone mentions Yoongi.”

And as if on cue, a pink hue creeps into his face, and he lowers his gaze as he defends, “This is better than constant thirst, okay? At least I’m not Eun.”

“What’s wrong with Eun?”

“I mean,” Jimin starts, planting his face in his hands, “she’s been talking about Tae and his dick since they hooked up at the club.”

“Well, what’s wrong with thirsting?”

You’d be a hypocrite if you agreed with him – it’s not like you don’t gush about your sex life to her, too.

“You can thirst for Yoongi, you know?” you suggest, but Jimin does not seem too delighted by the idea. “I’m serious. We’re actually having a little video call party tonight. You should join.”

Jimin shows immediate disdain to the idea – you can imagine why. Yoongi being there doesn’t seem to alter his decision much, but you still try, “Come on, at least join for a while. You can even tell awkward stories about me and such.”

“Careful what you offer, woman.”

You cock an eyebrow at his shady, dark look, obviously playful – but he relaxes his features when he sips his drink and then explains, “No seriously. I’m probably gonna slave over some stuff for work and then pass out.”

“It’s a summer night, though.”

Jimin and his constant overworking – the stubborn need to be a productive and exemplary medical assistant.

You sigh when he shakes his head, and he states, “Work doesn’t stop in the summer. But...” Uh-oh. Not this tone. Mischief is Jimin’s thing, so you should’ve expected— “maybe I’ll join when you tell me what happened between Jungkook and you at the frat party last year.”

Fuck. This question again – always all of a sudden.

You play dumb, “What frat party?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he prods, “the one that started the whole thing with y’all. You’ve been holding this information hostage, and everyone says it was wild but no one will tell me. I need to know.”

“Unfair request. And anyway… I thought you knew. You were there.”

Jimin huffs, plants a hand against the table and leans forward to tell you, “I was in a mind fog and then blacked out before midnight already. I missed out on all the shit you two did that night.”

“Sorry,” you press your lips together, shrugging your shoulders, “that’s your problem. My lips are sealed.” You lean in as he did, squinting in warning. “And don’t you dare ask someone about it!”

Jimin snickers and tsks, falling back into his chair as he continues, “Whatever. Worth a try. I’m really sorry, but next time for sure, alright?”

You’re not sure when next time will be.

Because when your little improvised online event starts tonight, you wonder how you managed to gather all of your busy friends at the same time at all.

It’s a new combination and you don’t recall how it happened – but you guess Eun found a fondness for Yoongi through Taehyung. You understand. Yoongi’s never anything but kind to everyone.

Jungkook joins at his usual time. With only Jimin and Tae missing due to work and other stupid responsibilities, you make the best of the get-together, sharing anecdotes about life and jarring moments of high school. You learn more about your friends and yourself just by talking and joking around.

Like, that Jungkook will always be Yoongi’s baby, no matter how mature he feels to you.

In a moment of affection, Jungkook admits how much he misses his former roommate’s cooking – apparently, resort food is good until it starts feeling repetitive. And Yoongi, ever-so-fond, says, “Come back and I’ll cook you a three-course-meal.”

“Stop. I’ll cry,” his younger friend jokes, sniffling in amusement.

“You’re lucky, you know. I’m not this weak for anyone,” Yoongi confesses, his voice deep and the gummy smile tender, “I just wish you were as weak for me, too, but you’re just annoying all the time.”

Jungkook argues, “That’s really fucking rude.”

And Eun adds, “Well, he’s not weak for anyone but his girl.”

You admit, you didn’t ask for this – but you’re not exactly repulsed to it when your supposedly weak friend slash boyfriend answers unabashed, “It’s a weakness I own proudly, okay?”

Despite the lightness of the situation, there’s sincerity in his voice. His words feel genuine, like you’re a fresh couple in love amidst your best friends.

The telling smirks of them and the brief silence are intense enough to hear a needle fall.

Jungkook clears his throat, rubbing his tattooed skin, and then digresses, “Anyway. I appreciate the three-course-meal, Yoon.”

As the conversation evolves, your mind drifts off – you repeat and rethink his words. Your heart bleeds red, your hands itching for his touch.

Something about the fact that you’re currently together in a group, but his focus lingers mostly on you, makes your chest and head swell. Warmth… fondness.

Your gaze shoots up to the top of the screen a moment later, shoving the boys’ talking into the back of your mind as you read the lines the notification shows.

Eun [11:21PM]: Do u want us to go away ? <3

You look at her, an awaiting gaze fixed on you. You raise your eyebrows, and she lifts her hand to type. Her phone shakes a little, and a second later, another message hides the top of Jungkook’s head.

Eun [11:22PM]: U guys aren’t talking. We can totally leave if u wanna be alone with him

Inconspicuously, you observe the men, realising that their topic is coming to an end; and slowly, subtly, you blink and nod.

“We’ll see how things play out, though,” Jungkook finishes, whatever they were talking about.

Yoongi nods along, agreeing, “If you need any help, hit me up. Or Tae.”

A few more hums and brotherly support later, Eun straightens her stance. You watch as Yoongi’s screen lights up his face in the darkness, and for some time, he looks focused. His lips move silently, reading something; Jungkook, rubbing his weary eyes, doesn’t notice the quiet chaos between the three of you.

And then, Eun yawns before she informs, “I’ll go to bed.”

She waits; tests Yoongi’s reaction, awaiting his assistance. And when he does, your favourite wing woman's face lights up, teeth flashing too obviously when he says, “I think I should, too. It’s getting kinda late.”

“You’re gettin’ old,” Jungkook remarks, and Yoongi flips him off, mumbling two words before he and Eun leave the call.

You smack your lips when you find yourself with him alone; you breathe in and out deeply, listen when he murmurs, “Hey you.”

“Hi,” you breathe, laughing a little. “Our friends are a bunch of crazy people.”

“You’re just noticing now?”

“Well, you know… I love how different they are, though,” you tell him, seemingly running out of topics. At least talking about your friends keeps your heart from exploding – and it just calmed down. “Even you and I… we’re pretty different.”

“We are, right?” He nibbles at his lower lip, and one of his little dimples appears – the smileless ones, your undeniable weakness. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well. I heard that same personalities clash more than vice versa.”

You puff out a breath, rolling your eyes. You agree – you’ve read about this, too. Even with MBTIs, ideal couples apparently consist of one introvert and one extrovert. But you can’t resist biting back, and say, “That’s why you and Yoongi argue all the time, huh?”

“Hey, hey. This is harmless. Nothing compared to the way Jimin looks at me.”

You can’t help but giggle. Jungkook doesn’t quite dislike your best friend – it’s more the unpleasant knowledge that Jimin can’t truly grow fond of the guy you’ve been falling for.

Secretly, you think that both of them harbour deep respect for each other: they know about the affection you grant both, and they know there must be a reason behind it.

“He likes looking at Yoongi better, gotta admit,” you say.

“Truly. You think they’ll confess to each other someday?”

Good question.

Considering Jimin’s blunt and hyper nature, you can’t rule out this option. Yoongi, albeit usually quiet, has no problem with honesty either. He’s a gentle human being, you’ve noticed – never out to hurt anyone on purpose.

And with the fondness he carries for Jimin… you can imagine just how gentle he’d be with him.

But still, you can’t really imagine them outright confessing – there’s something about their tender relationship and the way they’ve been growing closer slowly. You think it’ll take a few more dates, some more gazes, candlelit dinners until they can open up to each other.

“I don’t think so. Different from Eun and Tae, though,” you admit, replaying Eun’s confidence in your mind. “She always says they’re super open with each other and all. They still aren’t dating or anything, but I’m pretty sure they’re updated about their feelings.”

“Right. They both have no filter in their brain, so I guess.”

They’re not as idiotic as you.

You wish you could throw out the filter in your head.

You wish Jungkook would, too.

But in a moment of courage, you still inhale, swallowing before you ask, “What about you? Would you ever confess to a girl?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe? I think I’m not scared to,” he says casually – but he doesn’t quite look at you. Doesn’t see the raise of your eyebrows.

“Have you ever?”

“Yeah… of course. But right now… there’s no one I can confess to.”

Ouch.

But also—

“And in theory. You know, hypothetically… there’s just one person that I could fall in love with, if at all.”

Oh fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t think I need to tell you.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh… so…” What are you going to say? So what, why don’t you confess to me? This whole affair with him scares you. Fuck. “Okay.”

Should you ask? Should you leave it at that? You’re not sure. All you know is that your heart is thumping like crazy.

Everything points at one obvious, universal truth. But your mind still whirrs, scared and unsure, fearing disappointment if you turn out to be wrong.

But then again – God, what if it’s really you?

In the moments you drown in your thoughts, Jungkook speaks up, “Hey, do your parents still bother you now? Since you started your job and are successful and all?”

It’s a sudden change in topic – but you welcome it. You don’t know what to say anymore, but you don’t want to leave the call just yet. Breathing a sigh of relief, you tell him, “It’s gotten better now. It was worse some days ago.”

“Why, what happened?”

And that’s when you realise – he doesn’t know yet. So you tell him, attempting to keep your voice as calm as possible, “Do you remember Kim Seokjin?”

His expressions change when you mention the name – the casual nonchalance morphs into something unpleasant, and he leans back, nodding as he says, “The guy you were supposed to marry?”

“Yeah… Seokjin. I had a meeting with him some time ago,” you elaborate, though in a more careful tone now. Jungkook’s eyes keep sinking, his lips motionless. “And my mom was… pressuring me a lot regarding him.”

With a roll of his eyes, he lets out a sarcastic laugh, tsk-ing before he mumbles, “Even though I’m right here.”

“Yeah… yeah.”

“Seokjin should keep his friends and his own personality at bay before he tries to marry taken girls.”

Damn.

You defend, “Seokjin was… surprisingly kind. He’s not onboard with this idea either, so don’t worry about anything.”

“Ah,” Jungkook voices. Seems that the further you talk, the more his mood drops. “Cool.”

Is it… jealousy? Is he giving you more and more hints, confirming the thoughts rooted so deep inside you that you can’t bring yourself to accept?

“I don’t think he treats women wrong… unlike the friend we met. I think Seokjin just had a rough past and is trying to change,” you explain, and Jungkook shrugs, uncaring about whatever surrounds Seokjin’s existence.

You’ve never seen him like this.

“There are too many people in this world treating their partners horribly,” Jungkook argues, “so I do hope he’s better than that.”

You don’t answer. Watch him lick his lips, pressed against the headboard of his bed. He looks down, pouting a little, and you wish you could kiss his annoyance away. As you recover from the sudden fall of joy, you tell him, “You treat me well.”

And for a second, you succeed; his lips tug upwards to a smile, and he looks at you again, confessing, “I’ve never been shitty to women, no matter if girlfriends or flings. Or people. And you wouldn’t deserve it either.”

Perhaps that’s enough. If he thinks you’re worth all the good things, it should be enough for the moment.

“You think that?” you still ask. “What is it that you think I deserve?”

“Definitely not Seokjin.”

The answer shoots out of him like a rocket, and it makes you laugh; but he continues fast, hiding his envy, “I think you deserve whatever the world is giving you right now. And everything it’s not giving you.”

“Like what?”

Through the blurry quality of the call, you think his eyes fall to the bottom of his screen before they dash up again. He drags his words carefully, when he admits out of the blue, “Like… I wanna kiss you. I think you deserve that.”

Or maybe not.

Maybe you don’t deserve someone who can say such things with such ease and make your heart jump to the other side of the world like that. If you could, you’d give a man like him the universe.

“How so?” you want to know, ears perking up.

“I don’t know. Does it not make you feel wanted?” It does… he’s right. It provides you a better sense of self-acceptance and self-love. “Because it should.”

“What else?”

“I…” Jungkook thinks – or you think he does. In reality, he’s stilling his head, enabling himself to think properly. “I think you deserve to be worshipped.” He laughs. “That sounds stupid. Dunno, I— is this too much?”

You’re not laughing – you’re bedazzled by his words.

“No. Please keep going,” you encourage, tilting your head softly, “I deserve to be worshipped?”

“Looking at you… knowing you. I think yeah. If anyone does, then you.”

“Oh…”

“You should always be told how amazing you are. Praised and pulled into hugs. And…” You expect another sappy confession to make your heart burst. But you don’t predict the sudden turn in events and dialogue when he adds, “And you shouldn’t go without a touch for so long.”

What?

This is… how is this conversation derailing all of a sudden?

Not that you mind.

But your eyes are still blown wide when you ask, “I… I should be touched, you say?”

“By me,” he immediately fires, “I wanna… I wanna do it.”

He’s stumbling over words; swallowing syllables. What happened all of a sudden? You can’t say – but you do feel the change in the air.

“How?”

“Wrap my arms around you.”

But he sounds worn out and distracted, and his expressions suggest a hint of hidden thoughts. So you inquire, still bold, “But is that what you meant?”

You don’t know if it’s the mention of Seokjin or deprivation that unhinges him. But now that the atmosphere has shifted, serenity made way to tension, there seems no way back.

“Baby,” his voice carries a warning, and he moves on the bed, “do we really wanna go that route?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re so…” You await his answer eagerly – but instead, he curses, “Shit.”

You flash cautious deer eyes, hoping your pupils extend, shimmering like the night sky – innocence when you know what’s going on riles him up. And it’s been too long since you riled him up.

You ask, “What’s wrong?”

Jungkook rubs his forehead; he looks devastatingly cute pouting like that – reminds you of the nights he fell asleep next to you. Because Jeon Jungkook – the world should know – sleeps with the poutiest pout you’ve ever seen.

What he says, however, is not so sweet, “Someone woke up… down there.”

It takes you a moment too long to understand he’s not referring to a family member or pet, and upon realisation, your eyebrows shoot to the sky as you voice, “Oh. That was… sudden.”

“Yeah, well… I guess even just the thought of you is enough.”

The blood in your veins burns.

Eun and you once had a full-blown discussion about how people in love or fond of someone will feel striking lust even when the situation isn’t lewd. Sometimes, fully clothed confessions and mawkish talks will awaken a spot one doesn’t expect.

If that’s the case – then you’re proud. And you bet Eun would be, too.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

You’re being the most incredible brat – again, Eun would be proud of you.

Jungkook, not so.

“Shut up. Do I sound okay?”

“I could… help you be okay.”

His tone is intimidating and deep; you know he wants one thing, but suggests another, “Don’t you dare—”

“But why? You don’t want me to talk about what you deserve, too?”

He closes his eyes. Lashes brush his cheeks before his eyelids flutter open again, his stance hilariously desperate and wanting – you must admit, though, seeing him like that affects you in the best way possible, too.

Frustrated, he tells you, “Talk about what you like about me. Yes. I don’t think I can take anything else right now. And also, you’re a damn vixen.”

But you’re not letting him off the hook just yet. Heavy topics like damn Kim Seokjin need better therapy than what you like about him.

“Okay, okay,” you still say, feigning obedience, “I uh… I like your jaw.”

He chuckles again; goddamn, you love the sound.

“You like my jaw, huh? What more?”

“I like kissing it.” So far, so harmless. “And when you kiss mine.”

“Yeah…”

“You do this thing where you…” you bite your lip and make sure he sees, pausing; then continue, “where you brush your nose along my neck.” Your head is still a bit tilted, your neck free of your hair or clothes. “And you don’t speak. You just kiss me, and it kinda… it makes me feel like you’re emptying your head.”

Oh if you knew…

“I am. Or I’m not, it just… happens.”

His hitherto open eyes slip close again.

You know he has a hand on his crotch: you see it clearly in the slight movements of his arm. He lifts his phone to his ear, and suddenly, his screen goes black, turned off – you assume he doesn’t want anyone in the house to hear the sins you verbalise.

But only being able to hear his sounds, his despair, him… It might be worse.

You follow suit, his voice seeping directly into your brain and body now.

You continue, “And before you go in to kiss me… or to make out with me, you part my mouth with your thumb. You always push my lower lip down with it, so you can fit your lips between mine. Did you ever notice?”

“Yeah… I think so.”

His breathing stagnates. You imagine his shoulders drop, like a wave of relief is washing over him.

“You leave scratch marks on my waist sometimes and I find them— so fucking hot.”

“That’s what you like about me?” Jungkook jests, playful mocking in his words. “That I know how to handle your body?”

“You know that’s not all, but…”

“Hmmm,” he hums, “are you… are you imagining it right now?”

“No—”

“You’re lying,” he says. His tone is somewhat hazardous; you wonder what he’d do if he was here with you. “You’re a horrible liar. Tell me angel.”

“I,” you take a deep breath, “I am imagining it.”

“What are you doing?”

“The same thing you probably are.”

Pause. A light groan.

You wish you could see his eyes roll back right now.

Not enough – you need more. So you tease, “You know what else I like, Kook?” You wait for dramatic effect; listen him hum again before you add, “The way you look down at me when I suck your dick.”

And that’s when he’s had enough.

“Ohhh, fuck, shut up.”

“Or when I’m kneeling. You tap it against my lips and… fuck, you’re always rock hard, you don’t know how that affects me.”

“It’s not very different right now,” he lets you know, and your insides burn with satisfaction, “so damn hard for you, baby.” Knowing him, you’re sure he’s chewing on his lips, swallowing a clump. “Angel, will you… if I told you to do things, would you listen?”

“As in?”

“Wanna make you come.” He blurts it just like that. But your guts don’t freeze as casually – your body turns to ice. “God, it’s been so fucking long since I heard you come.”

You can’t bring yourself to answer – so you merely voice a mhm. And he, keen and with madness dripping from his voice, begins, “Your fingers… bring them down to where I always touch you. You remember where I start off, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

Timid fingers wander down. You break the contact between your shorts and your skin, diving in before you press the pads of your fore and middle finger onto your clit. You sigh deeply, circling your nub – and he listens carefully.

“Slow movements, okay?” he orders. “Keep doing that. Tell me how you feel.”

“Good… not as good as with you, though.”

“Oh, I’ll,” he starts, promising, “go fucking wild on you when I see you again. That good, babe?”

“What are you gonna do?”

He inhales, and you think he’s close to laying all his thoughts open. But instead, he opts for a different strategy, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do… copy whatever’s possible now, ‘kay?”

“Sure, but. I could also just not listen to you and do my thing.”

Bad idea.

“Sure,” he repeats, “but then you’ll regret it once I come back. In an annoying way… and I mean it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

You just attempted to muddle up his thoughts – you didn’t think it’d backfire like this, with him gaining full sobriety and saying shit like—

“It’s okay. And you’re my girl.” You don’t need it again, but he still repeats, “Remember? I said you’re my girl before I left… I fucking meant it.”

“Mmhh…”

He waits – and then.

“I’ll do to you…” he begins, finally giving your question any sort of thought, “I’ll kiss your bare shoulders. Sit behind you.” You lean back against your pillow with the device in your firm grip. “Tongue and all. You love that, don’t you?”

Seriously…

He’s a painter. You’re the writer. And still, it’s his words fucking you up.

Unfair.

“Then I’ll grab your tits. Push a hand under your underwear… gonna keep going until you writhe in my grip.” Jungkook’s voice is raspy; his laugh changes nothing about the temptation in his words, because he adds, “By the way. Thinking about it, you don’t deserve to not be fucked for so long, either.”

You rub harder, a bit faster, forcing yourself to keep your thighs apart as you warn, “You can’t just say that, Jungkook.”

But he defends, sneaky and sassy as ever, “Why not? It’s not like you didn’t start.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure. Know what you don’t hate, though?”

A subtle, knowing voice in your mind tells you he’s not going to say anything harmless. And you’re right.

“When I wrap my hand around your neck. You know, don’t you? The hand.” Yes, you know. All the colourful ink… pierced into his skin, pressing against your neck. And… “When I slap your pussy.” Slow motions continue on your clit, and that’s when he adds, “Are you doing it?”

Copy whatever’s possible now, okay?

Shit.

“No,” you confess.

“What am I talking for then, hm?” God. The aroused fury in his voice – fuck, you’re too weak for this. “You really want me to keep it at the minimum next time, don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not after a month.”

Abstinence is difficult with a man like him – but not for him, apparently.

“You’d be surprised.”

“I hate you.”

You whimper when you land a slap on your clit, nerves lighting up bright, body sliding down your bed. Your fingers loosen around your phone, and it falls next to your ear onto the pillow – you, however, still hear him as clear as day when he asks, “Is my baby wet for me yet?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you inform, “I can literally… hear it.”

“Shiiit…”

Jungkook’s voice is a pleasant one – like a lullaby, the attraction on a karaoke night. So whenever that man curses, whispers filth into your ear or gives you godless orders – you bid goodbye to a few dozen brain cells.

And he doesn’t stop, “What an amazing girl – you’re so ready for me whenever. It’s…” he waits, groaning deeply, “so hot.”

“Thank you.”

“Brat,” Jungkook says hidden in a laugh, but he catches himself fast. “Push two fingers in.” Your fingers slither down – obliging instantly, digging in between your deprived walls. Only going harder when he orders it; and only slowing down when he asks, “Still got your sex toys, babe?”

And when you tell him yes, of course – how else did you survive the past nights without his touch? – he commands, “Take them out. Want you stuffed… Imagine it’s my cock.”

Hastily, you work on your nightstand table, whipping out the subtle, dark bag. You rip the zipper open, fingers drenched, and spit on the dildo Jungkook bought you a while ago. As a reminder, he said.

Jungkook reacts to your sounds, but doesn’t lose the coherency in his words; and when you begin prodding your entrance with the life-sized toy, he says, “Push it in. Lemme hear.”

You bring your palm closer to the phone, holding your breath, and direct the speaker to the sound of your squelching heat. For a few seconds, you find yourself lost in the feeling of the toy, angling it to hit the rough patch of your pussy.

But then, you bring it back to your ear, curious about his reactions; satisfied when you hear him say, “Go as wild as you want… I just. God, I wanna fuck you so bad. Gonna fuck you so hard, I don’t care.”

You arch your back, hair dishevelled. Mewling quietly but loud enough for him to hear. He grunts with you, and you hear sounds in the background – rustling of clothes and shifting. Heavy breathing.

Jungkook’s patience runs thinner than yours – because when he speaks again, you know he’s gritting his teeth, “I’ll pack my bags and get to you, I swear to god. No, scratch that… I won’t even pack, I’ll just… rush to you.”

“Just to fuck me? How weak of you.”

“Is it just to fuck? Does sex with me really just feel like sex to you, baby?”

Goddamn – what the hell is he saying? He can’t be saying this right now.

“Jungkook,” you murmur.

“Sweetheart.”

“You need to come back to me. Want you back.”

“I know. I know, baby,” he confirms; he never tires of your little confessions, “tell me what else you want.”

“Leave marks on your back.”

“Yeah, fuck, yes… I want you to do it, too.”

“And want you to pull my leg up your waist as you always do to…”

He encourages you when your brain shortcircuits; the sex toy along with your fingers robs your senses, “To what?”

“To fuck me deeper.”

More swears tumble out of him; the sweetness of his voice fades once and for all. And when he’s uttered his last shit and fucking hell, you tell him, “You don’t even know… half of the shit I want you to do to me.”

“Like…”

“Bend me over. Make me beg and cry. And… pull my hair.”

Jungkook hisses, a ravishing sound; dragging you into deep waters like a siren, “Shut up… seriously, just.” But he doesn’t really want you to shut up. Because he elicits another moan out of you when he says, “What I’d do to fuck this brave mouth of yours.”

“What I’d do to let you,” you tell him, “I can’t fucking believe you have a dick I can’t suck right now.”

In a moment of breathy amusement, Jungkook manages a shaky laugh, and promises, “Soon… soon, okay? But now…” He exhales, his voice dropping quiet and low. Enticing and unbelievably hot. “I want you to come.”

“On it…”

“Really?” he questions, playfully dumbfounded – if he could see you, you would’ve rolled your eyes at him. “How do you feel then?”

“Good, nghh, so good, I—”

Your phone falls off your pillow, and you throw your face to the side; fingertips rub against your clit as you fuck into you harder. And when the final current courses through your body and electrifies you, you let go – panting, groaning, calling his name as you dig the heels of your feet into the mattress.

Your eyes roll back, and somewhere in the distance, you faintly hear him praise you; a good girl here and a fucking beautiful there.

“Fucking love this,” he tries to express, but he can barely talk in his utter haze.

Napkins susurrate and whoosh near his speaker; obscenities keep falling off his tongue; and suddenly, his voice is far away as he moans and exclaims something. Clipped words as he says your name, losing his mind before… everything goes quiet.

You imagine he must be limp on his bed like you are right now – but as opposed to you, he finally manages to speak, sacrificing oxygen to say, “That was…”

Interrupting, you puff out a breath, “Just imagine how…”

“I know. I know, and it’ll be better. When I’m back, it’ll be even better, okay?”

You laugh. “Or worse. You might take me apart.”

Your chuckles build one singular song, and your voices harmonise when your words overlap. You start, “Am I wrong?” but when his sentimentality takes over, you let him talk.

“It’s… truly what you deserve.”

Worshipping and all the good things – he told you already. You miss his way of showcasing adoration. In a while, your fingers and toys shall be replaced to give way to genuine hours of affection.

You want his body on yours to wrinkle your sheets – not minutes of just you, all alone.

And you think that this time, things will be different.

Sentiments overflowing, you say, “You must be the sweetest idiot I know, Jungkook.”

He perceives the gentle insult as a compliment. His snicker sounds delighted, as though he’s thanking you for it.

And you smile: Because Eun once told you that when you call someone an idiot with the softest of laughs… It most likely means you’re in love.

The weekends are a delightful time of the week.

Despite the fact that you’re an heir in training, you get at least those two days off, and your co-workers know not to disturb your self-indulgent hours. Zara makes sure you get the rest you deserve, considering that you work your ass off every other day.

This week alone, you threw out a dozen suggestions the team accepted; you analysed statistics that suggested a significant incline in app-membership; and at least three or four people working with you trudged to you – not anyone else – to seek advice.

A trainee, someone who came to this place merely three weeks ago.

You narrate every single hour of your week to Eun as you walk along the line of trees, and she whistles into the speaker of her phone, praising, “If you weren’t a badass bitch already, then you for sure are now, Miss Charmante.”

“Don’t call me that,” you scold.

Your steps are idle, and the evening breeze pleasant. You take in the fragrance of nature, peace only disturbed when Eun jokes, “Miss Jeon then?”

“Shut the fuck up. It’d also be Missus, you brilliant law student.”

“Why don’t you annoy me back with a certain Mister Kim, then?”

“Because that’s what you wanna hear.” You laugh for a moment, but then you silence, gasping. Your dress flutters around your knees when you stand still and ask, “Wait… don’t tell me you’re falling in love.”

You drag the word, like it’s filth and a curse, and Eun argues under a giggle, “I’m not falling in love. But it’s also definitely not just a fling anymore.”

“Ohhh. Uh-oh, Eun, this—”

“Hey,” she interrupts momentarily, “compared to you or Jimin I can admit my feelings, okay?”

You sigh. Funny how you were just thinking and talking about this to Jungkook a few days ago. Looking to the ground, you shuffle your feet and ask, “Hey… is it really that obvious?”

“Uhhh,” Eun hums, “you’d be blind to not see it.”

“I don’t know, though. Do you think he feels the same way?”

“What, Jungkook? He fucking worships you.”

Ah, the butterflies again… to hear someone close to you observe and say this to you hits almost as hard as when he admitted it. Since the big conversation you had with Jungkook, tackling Seokjin, jealousy and emotions, you’ve been toying with that thought, too, though…

“I feel like I kinda figured,” you open up, optimistic for probably the first time since your relationship with him started, “or well… sometimes it does feel like it, but I don’t wanna hope too much and then get my heart broken.”

“I get it.” Eun validates your feelings, but her tone grows urgent in the same breath. “But I don’t think he’ll break your heart, babe.”

“How so?”

Her gentle laugh chimes through the phone, like a virtual hug; you reckon she’d actually wrap you in her arms if she was here right now.

She calls your name and sighs, “You haven’t seen the way he looks at you?”

Those damn butterflies in your stomach again.

Quietly, you ask, “It’s not just his big eyes then, right?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“So you’re sure he likes me, too?”

“Yes, babe. I do.”

“Eun…”

“I know,” she assures, her voice suddenly mature – she’s different when she’s lecturing you, “you two are at the most difficult stage right now. I promise it’ll get easier.”

“I just… I miss him.”

He’s coming back on Thursday. Told you he has a couple of things to take care of next weekend – something regarding his apartment. So he organised his vacation according to his duties, in a way that he can come back by Thursday noon.

Just when Eun repeats a balmy “I get it”, the device vibrates against your ear. You flinch a little, lifting it off your face – surprised when today’s call comes in way earlier than expected. Jungkook usually doesn’t grace you with his voice until the sun has descended.

“Speaking of the devil,” you say, your finger halfway floating over the green button, “I’ll call you back later.”

One call cut and the other taken, you hear him greet, “Hi, angel.”

His voice is raspy and deep, somewhat lazy; so you state, “Hey. You sound tired.”

“Ah, I am. We woke up early every day at the resort… so I guess I’ll have to catch up on lots of sleep.”

“Why aren’t you resting now then?”

It’s always the same game. He sounds fatigued to no end; you tell him to rest; he says he wants to talk to you, even if just for a few minutes – minutes that turn to hours every single time, respectively.

Along with your genuine suggestions, you think you just want to hear him say those things.

His voice drops an octave deeper, and he breathes out as though exhausted from a marathon – and as expected, he says, “I wanted to talk to you a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” The same story – but never the same feeling. You know what he’ll ask next, “How are you?”

And you answer, already prepared, “I’m good. How are you, Kookie?”

He chuckles. The nickname isn’t a random slip of your tongue anymore – by now, you’ve adapted a regular routine of flustering him, because he knows that you know how much he loves it.

He’s cursed his drunk self more than once.

“Splendid. Just wish it wasn’t so hot.” He waits, listens to the chirping of birds on your side, and then asks, “Where are you?”

“I went for a walk. To clear my head a bit.”

“You know. You deserve to rest, too.”

“That’s resting for me,” you shrug your shoulders, though he can’t see, “I just did a quick round around the neighbourhood.”

Jungkook hums, and you can imagine his nod, the way he presses his lips together. “And what now?”

What now? The weekend is still young.

“Might read something. Or draw?”

Your suggestion lights up his voice – entirely in his element, you hear joy sidle into his speech, surprised as he asks, “Oh? Drawing?”

It’s a bit embarrassing – to admit such a thing to a master artist. Your sketches won’t compare to the gems he creates on a canvas, but he never makes you feel his professionalism anyway; he inspires and motivates you instead.

“Yeah, I was thinking of some stuff you showed me,” you tell him, “and I wanted to try, too.”

“Really? What would you make?”

“Uh… Do you remember the flowers I drew on your arm some time ago?”

Unexpected silence falls between you for a second.

Did you say something wrong? Does he not remember, but is trying to? You want to interrupt the odd stillness before he answers, “I do. Of course I remember.”

His hesitation is peculiar, but you brush it off fast.

You continue, “Yeah, anyway. I could start with those. I’ll send them to you, and you’ll give me your honest feedback, okay?”

“I’m always honest, you know it.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, baby,” he says and you heave a deep breath, stopping near the outer doors of your place. You smile, biting your lip; feel the pleasant nervousness in your tummy when he lets the nickname slip so casually.

And before you can speak on, he does, “In fact… What do you think of me guiding you a bit and… giving you live feedback?”

Your eyebrows perk up – you’re appreciative of his eagerness, but not quite sure what he means. So you prod, “Do you want me to video call you when I start?”

“No,” he explains, and his voice changes again. As nervous as yours… “I mean… If I was actually with you.”

Oh. Oh shit.

A voice in your heart reveals what he means, timidly in a whisper – your mind, on the other side, keeps your hopes low. But you still stop in your tracks again, looking to your house haphazardly; not yet daring to ask before you breathe, “How would that be possible?”

You know. You think you know.

“You won’t kill me if I tell you?”

“Kill y—” You barely recognise the shaky laugh you let out, anticipating and confused; the wrinkles on your forehead must be deep and plenty. “Kill you why, Jun—”

Your body, shifting and moving, makes a 180 turn, eyes flickering around. Craning your neck, you scan the neighbourhood and the trees, seeing the faint light of the sunset far away.

And somewhere nearer than the sun stands a figure – you see a phone planted against its ear even from a distance.

And then…

“I really like your dress.”

Damn it…

You lower the phone when the figure ends the call. You squint, lifting your lips to a probably stupid grin, not certain that you’re seeing what you’re seeing. But he’s definitely here… definitely real.

Blinking, you walk closer slowly, and he approaches you just as softly. But with each step, your movements fasten, wind howling in your ears and the dress floating around you. By the time you have tackled most of the distance, you are half running, half tripping; flying an inch above the ground.

Your arms are already lifted before, with a dull thump and light steps, you fall against his body.

He feels warm as always. Feels soft.

His scent and his smile make you spiral and fall, and you feel your heart pounding against his. Impossibly hard, crazy, stupidly and undeniably in love.

As you dig your fingers into his back, he wraps an arm around your torso; presses you close to him, lips in your hair. A gentle timbre whispers, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you answer under your breath, mesmerised, eyes squinting shut. “Hey…”

Insanity has a name… insanity has a beautiful name indeed. And you’re wrapped in its arms.

Feet planted firmly against the ground, you don’t dare to move. Your legs might fail you; he might fade if you shift even an inch. Dizzy and drowning in madness, you attempt to grasp the reality of the moment.

Then, you finally find the courage to lean back and look at him; he doesn’t let go, and your voice is a squeak when you ask, “How the fuck are you already here?!”

Your hands wander to his bicep, clutching it tight; the insides of your body buzz and vibrate, and you don’t know what to focus on. You want to keep hugging him, want to kiss him, wishing there was a better way to showcase affection than those existent in this world.

“I just,” he begins, as breathless as you; unspoken feelings swim in his dark brown eyes, “I wanted more time to prepare for apartment stuff.”

No.

No excuses today.

“More time, huh? And still you’re here!”

Jungkook waits. Amused guilt floats in his gaze; the crinkles around his gentle, big eyes form again. For the first time, you realise that he’s tanned, that his hair is lighter, and his face is glowing like the sun.

“I need to… yeah, I do need to take care of a few things. But,” he hesitates again, and you see his Adam’s apple bop, “most of all, I just needed to see you… okay?”

“You did? You did…” You don’t realise you’re sniffling until he puts a hand on your cheek, right under your damp eye; stroking your lips with a soft thumb. “Is that why you came back already?”

He nods slightly, almost not noticeable. His face falls close enough for your foreheads to touch, and he sighs when you ask, “Why? What am I to…”

What are you to him?

You need to know.

Because your heart bangs against its cage. The rhythm isn’t a stranger anymore – you know what it means, and you’re in no shape or form to deny any of it anymore. You’d be stupid to – and hell, you’ve been stupid for too long already.

Enough… enough of it.

“I need to talk to you, angel,” he says.

His expressions are insecure. Behind the happiness of the moment, there’s fear and melancholy in his orbs – your heart pumps adrenaline into your veins recklessly.

“Okay,” you murmur, “okay.”

“Not now, though. Just. Stay like that for a second.”

Stay.

He wouldn’t break your heart after a request like this – you know. So you sigh into the summer air, your fingers travelling to his neck. You cover his mole, breathe him in, closer to his lips and itching to press a kiss onto them.

Jungkook doesn’t attempt the same; he keeps his mouth away, for whatever reason, but tightens his grip around your waist and your face. And you think – the moment is tranquil as it is.

You’re touching him… actually feeling him.

And it’s good. It’s perfect.

“Jungkook…” you whisper his name without purpose.

Your eyes drop close, but he lets his eyelids flutter open. Looks at you. You don’t utter anything more, don’t see when he tilts his head. He smiles, lost and brave, blinded by the lights that surround you as he whispers,

“I missed you so much, angel.”

soooo – what do we think? 🧐

please, i have a crush on them both 🥲 seokjin is gonna be important again later :’) and not jk with his constant secrecy again 😐 also !! thank you guys for reading and being so encouraging. whenever i feel down, you push me forwards – cannot tell you how much i appreciate you 🥺

this chapter was genuinely so freaking hard to write – so as always, please don’t forget to like and comment, and most importantly, reblog or send an ask !! no matter how big or small, feedback means everything, so come and spam me !! <3 click here to join the taglist! ♡

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

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hit;record (m) | myg/ksj

title: hit;record pairing: fratboy!yoongi x fuckgirl!reader(f) x jock!seokjin rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; fwb/f2l? , university au summary: you’ve been losing every single bet your friends have thrown at you. tired of striking the hell out, you’re determined to win the biggest one that everyone has a stake in. what you don’t quite expect, though, is that there’s more than one person willing to help you. warnings: cursing, alcohol, house party, recording, penetrati*n, cocky yoongi, cocky jin, spanking, head/hair pulling, oral(m/f rec), 3s*me, cowgirl, all chains stay on but are we rly shocked atp, jock jin<33, sp*troasting, c*m play, tears, sl*t/wh*re mentions, jealousy??, reader is a bad b*itch, unprotected sex (y’all omfg don’t do anything these mfs do pls), double penetrati*n, denied org*sm, creampie, breast play, pain, multiple org*sms, manhandling, choking, hitting it from the back (two different waays), yoongi is blond😀, jin has muscles😀😀, spitting, spanking, dirty talk, light face/c*nt slapping, finger*ng, the ending lmfaoo i think that’s it? oh, yes, there's a tie. notes: i… just. i dunno what happened🥴 guess i just save my filthiest work for the yoonjin babes<33 have fun and don’t perceive me when you reach the other side. note 2: if you are involved in recording anything nsfw, please please be aware of how it can spread - purposefully or accidentally. everyone involved needs to consent 100% before anything ever gets recorded or photographed. that being said, all parties in this fic fully consent to recording and/or sharing of the videos. ok onwards! have fun :))) release date: september 6th, 2022, 9:07pm est mood: playlist here word count: 13.1k

Why the hell did you agree to this?

Spanning across your vision, the house party is already in full, bass-thumping, technicolor swing.

And even though you arrive with friends, everyone splits right after stepping inside—conquests on the lust-hazed horizon.

“Good luck, bitches!”

“Remember the rules!”

“Y’all better not take my man.”

Usually enthusiastic, you feel less into the hunt this time. And it’s because you may have caught feelings.

That’s not right.

More accurately, you may have started feeling a little more for someone that you had been entertaining for a few months now.

Kim Seokjin: popular jock on campus, and your favorite stamina-hoarding athlete.

After thinking he was just a godly man stare at and not someone into casual flings, you were proven very, disgustingly, beautifully wrong by the way he was ramming you into scratchy coats during New Years.

The short fling followed by his quick exit still had you feeling dizzy about it weeks later, and the culmination of your thoughts resulted in multiple quickies in places like the bathroom you’re currently passing.

It wasn’t the speedy getaways that got to you—in fact, you preferred things that way—but the way he acted. The words he said, the touches that burned your skin, the way he—

No! You spent all that time back home getting dolled up and ready to scout this party for a very specific bet that your friends and you made with each other.

Which, first off, you cannot believe you all agreed to.

But the bet was simple: record yourself.

Record yourself doing something dirty and everyone had to vote on which ones passed and which ones weren’t daring enough.

Horrible? Immensely. But you’re all stupid and single and horny as fuck, so there wasn’t much logic or evaluating involved.

Plus, there was a goddamn penalty.

And, as one that had to pay a penalty before, you were not going to lose again.

So you needed to focus. There were only three people you knew you could count on and two of them already had other plans.

Sweltered by crowd humidity and douchey cologne, you quickly dart into the kitchen to pour a shot of courage before continuing your search.

Please be here.

Surveying the rooms, you catch sight of a lot of people you know but don’t know know. Although, you spot a guy that you note as a possible backup in case your fuckbuddy fell through, muscular frame towering over the rest of the room.

Where is he? You were sure he was going to show up. It was one of the reasons why you ended up completely fine consenting to the bet—you knew you had a good chance.

A few more moments of searching pass.

Not in the cramped living room. Not in the musty foyer. Not even in the backyard with clearly-neglected grass and plants.

Fuck, is he even here?

You sulk back into the kitchen, head full of worry and dread because you sincerely thought he was going to come tonight.

Maybe he did? And got snagged by one of your friends already?

Fuck!

“You aren’t at the block party?”

Praise anything holy.

At your side, your blond knight greets you with a cocked brow. “Min! Thank fuck, I was looking for you.”

“Me?” He pushes off from his chosen wall, drink settled in a lazy hand. “Don’t you usually make the rounds first before I get a turn?”

“Like you don’t do the same,” you scoff as you take in his much more preferred cologne. “But shut up. I need you.”

“About time you skip all the bullshit.”

“It’s for a bet, dumbass.”

A lopsided smile precedes Yoongi’s response. “How do you know I’ll help you film us fucking?”

“Wait, what?” You freeze, unblinking as he shines triumph your way.

How does he possibly know about that? You literally just got here five minutes ago. “Did someone ask you already?”

“Not me.”

You’re about to ask a follow up question when you see his eyes wander to someone behind you.

“They asked him,” Yoongi laughs into his cup, not catching the way you have to compose yourself when facing your very issue walking towards you.

Fuck.

Jin’s here, too?

Goddamn it, this is going to make your request awkward as hell. Only Yoongi was supposed to be here! Not that you… Would be opposed… To company…

That would certainly—

Your name pulls you out of the very dirty gutter you popped it into, and you blink. “What?”

“Jin said you know each other already, that’s all.”

Swerving, you finally get a good look and realize that he’s dressed like the last meal you would choose to have before leaving this planet.

Decked out in sweats and a tank, Seokjin simply watches, smug as your eyes zero in on his jewelry.

And a corner of his lips twitches when you swallow.

Motherfucker.

“Umm, yes,” you manage to blurt out. “We’ve seen each other around.”

When his smile evolves into a grin, he turns his head to not direct it at you, which somehow ends up being more destructive than if he did.

How is that even possible? Are you more far gone than you thought?

“I see…” Yoongi trails off, and you notice him throwing back the last dredges of his drink before sauntering off. “Well, good luck with your bet.”

Seokjin cuts in before you can grab at your friend’s sleeve. “Bet? What bet?”

Your pest spins on his heel, walking backwards while pointing accusingly, “You already know! She’s with that girl that jumped you like two minutes ago!”

What the hell! You hiss his name in a warning, glancing at Jin and regretting doing so.

Did he just look…

Intrigued?

Butterflies come to mind.

Him promptly turning down your friend makes more sense than this look of interest. After all, he bounces pretty quickly after sex. There’s no way Seokjin wants himself and his dick to be immortalized in a shaky phone recording.

...Does he?

Keeping that thought tucked in the deep recesses of your brain, you push forward and join Yoongi at the nearest sticky counter.

“What the fuck,” you whisper to his smirk as the strong smell of alcohol invades your nostrils. “Don’t just go ratting me out!”

“I dunno, babe.” Pouring a shot for himself before filling two other solos, he sets the bottle down with a clink and hands one to you. “I might’ve just made your night.”

“What?”

He huffs a quick laugh before handing the other cup to Jin. Turning back and leaning in, he whispers something that gives you chills,

“I know you fucked already.”

You dart your eyes to his cheek. “He told you?”

“I can tell.” Yoongi laughs, earrings swaying with his shoulder bobs. “And he’s eyeing your ass as we speak. Skirt is fucking hot, by the way.”

Ignoring the reaction in your chest, you chuckle while wondering if he’ll get your statement, “Good, cus it’s all I got.”

And the slight slip of his hand on the counter lets you know he understands. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“So about that bet.”

“Fuck…”

“Just think about it, yeah?”

“Mm.”

After Yoongi offers his cup to clink with both of you, everyone quickly downs their shots, all quiet and most likely thinking about the same thing.

A bet you need to win.

But there’s more to it now. Because apparently you have options.

Do you simply go with your original plan and go upstairs with Yoongi? Knowing how cheeky he can be, some random bathroom would probably be more accurate.

Or do you pivot, suck it up, and proposition the bet to a man that already turned down a similar offer?

Fuck. This would be easier if you didn’t have to think about stupid things called feelings. Though they’re tiny in amount, the concept of liking someone outside of fucking is foreign to your brain.

And the poor thing doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it yet.

However.

If you pick Jin and he somehow agrees, you feel confident in yourself to go through with this without letting them get in the way. It should be easy to get this done without much stake in the emotions department.

Right?

Sure.

Yes.

Final answer: yes.

In any case, it’s stupid to even think all this shit when you haven’t even gotten an answer from either of them.

One more shot is in order. “Min, hit me again.”

“Same thing?”

“Whatever’s fine. I just got here so lemme catch up,” you explain before stepping over to the person you’ve been mulling over for weeks. “Speaking of, when did you get here?”

He has to lean in because the music is getting progressively louder, so much so that the bass is starting to add another pulse to your bloodstream. “We got here a bit before you.”

“We?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “We’re roommates.”

…What.

There’s no way.

“You’re fucking with me. Isn’t he in a frat?”

“Yeah. Been roommates since last year, though.”

Well damn.

Slowly swiveling your head so that your mouth is next to his ear, you succumb to his cologne and try to ignore this new info. “And you were asked before him?”

As if feeling the warmth of his skin isn’t enough, noticing his smug grin makes things a thousand times worse. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Yoongi hands you the second shot, and you thank him before throwing it back.

Feeling the predictable burn makes you wince, but your body warms while loosening just a tad. “Cus he’s… and you’re… you’re shy,” you finally respond, tongue spiced from the liquor and assumptions.

“Is that what you think?”

“Of course.”

Seokjin laughs. “I’m not shy all the time.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You sound put out, angel. Are you jealous?”

Maybe if he said ye—

No, shut up. None of that.

“You wish,” you simply quip. “Figured you’d say no to it anyway.”

“Depends.”

You blink.

Moving away a bit, you glance at Yoongi taking a lazy sip from his cup before bringing someone in for a shoulder tap.

You swear you’ve only had two shots. But that doesn’t mean you could already be mishearing things.

Turning back to Jin, you blink again. “Really. You’d say yes?”

There’s a bit of silence after, the next song booming throughout the house and in between your stares. It gives you enough time to wonder what Jin means, but not nearly enough time to prepare yourself for what he says.

Leaning in close enough that his plush as fuck lips brush your ear, he goads,

“Ask me and find out.”

Fuck.

Chills spark across your skin and around your bones as you freeze in place. When you find you can’t do anything but gulp, you try your hardest to keep breathing—in and out, in and out.

This is new. This is really fucking new and you don’t know how to react in the slightest.

You’ve been the one in control. You’ve been the initiator this whole time, the one that approaches and the one that conquers before a swift retreat. Everyone knows that, and so far it’s all worked out.

Which makes this situation…

Enticing as hell.

Masking your faltering, you offer a smirk. “Careful what you offer.”

To which he offers one of his own. “Careful what you ask.”

Truly, it’s a shame that you’ve spoken more words to each other in the last few minutes than you have ever before. All the conversations you’ve had with Seokjin have been in between gasps and moans—certainly not anything to text or call home about.

Maybe you could switch it up and let Yoongi off the hook. Looks like one of your friends snagged him in the seconds you weren’t looking anyway.

You watch as she loops one of her fingers in his long chain, unblinking as he lets her lure him down closer than necessary to talk.

Huh.

That’s jealousy you feel in your gut.

Fuck, how selfish are you tonight? Are you really getting soft for Yoongi, too? You allowed yourself that slip-up with Jin; this can’t happen a second time.

Maybe it’s because—

“Well,” Jin suddenly cuts into your thoughts, “Guess we’ll never know.”

Wait, what?

A huge presence leaves your side, causing you to dart your eyes between his retreating back and the charming smirk Yoongi’s aiming at someone else.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! If there’s one thing that can’t happen, it’s getting a No from both of them.

Cutting your loss with Yoongi, you speed past him to catch up to Seokjin, calling his name over the blaring atmosphere.

As he turns, you scoff at the smugness painted on his face, “Mister impatient over here.”

“Nice to meet you, miss indecisive.”

Well. He got you there. But he doesn’t need that satisfaction. “Maybe I’m making you wait.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re edging me?”

God.

Where the fuck has this Jin been? Why haven’t the two of you actually had a real conversation sooner? This is way too entertaining not to draw out.

“Perhaps,” you hum, leaning on the wall as you both now occupy a corner of the stuffed living room. “Is that what you want?”

Jin hums, taking a sip of his drink and looking into the crowd. When he faces you, he looks past your look of intrigue before leaning in to whisper, “Something like that.”

You’re about to question what the hell he means when you feel his lips capture the side of your neck, shooting lightning bolts to your curled toes.

“I’d rather edge you instead.”

His name leaves your mouth in a gasp, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hot trail up your throat, plush lips making you melt with each delicate touch.

“But…” The syllable trails off into your ear before he kisses there, too, unaware of the wetness gathering on your thighs.

You don’t get to hear his voice up close anymore. Because he straightens himself on the wall and smirks.

“Guess we’ll just keep standing here.”

“Jinnie, please,” you sigh, grabbing his bicep and melting at its firmness. You’ve reached the point of no return, it seems. Just him existing in front of you is tangling your heartstrings. “I…”

“I told you.” He downs his drink. “All you have to do is one thing.”

Something in your heart causes your hand to shoot out and grab his shoulder, and you slam his lips onto yours to keep them hostage. Tingles bubble up your spine as he presses you into the wall, sliding his tongue along your lips and sucking on your bottom plush.

Fuck.

You can do this with him if he allows it.

Grabbing his tank again, you start to pull him away when you meet nothing but resistance.

Catching yourself mid-lean, you stop and regard him with a cocked brow. “You coming?”

And Jin smothers his chuckle with a smile. “You didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

“I—”

Warm hands grip your hips from behind before you can blink, and a low tone tickles your ear,

“You ready?”

…Yoongi?

Where did he come from? Isn’t he supposed to be a little preoccupied at the moment?

Turning, you feel blond hair and soft lips ghosting over your shoulder blade, shuddering at the touch.

Combined with the lingering of Jin’s kisses, you feel elevated to another plane, caught in between two very different but equally destructive auras.

Getting yourself to speak is harder than you expect. “Me? Where’d she go?”

“Who.”

Asshole. He knows damn well who you mean.

But fuck, if that doesn’t turn you on more than it should.

Wait. Shit! This means that Yoongi’s down, and you know for a fact he’ll be fine with cameras involved.

So that means… Seokjin will have to wait.

Damn it, but you kinda don’t want that, either. Especially now that you know that he’s Yoongi’s fucking roommate. You can’t give either frustratingly attractive man bragging rights.

This choice has been the hardest you’ve ever had to make.

Well.

Hold on.

What did Jin tell you?

All you have to do is ask?

You breathe.

This will either be the best or worst decision in history.

But screw it, you’re not gonna let that stop you.

Slowly turning, you whisper in Yoongi’s ear, hoping he doesn’t hear how stupidly timid it comes out.

It doesn’t seem like he did, but maybe it’s because you’re too distracted by his slow chuckle to fully realize. “I’m not the one you need to ask, princess.”

Fuck.

Turning back to Jin, you take in his perfectly furrowed brows before gathering a sliver of courage. But if that’s all you can garner, you’ll use the hell out of it.

Inhaling, you lick your lips while pulling on his tank. As soon as he bends to lend his ear, you whisper the same question you asked Yoongi. And you hope to everything that he agrees.

“You down to share?”

Jin immediately moves away, but the look he has on his face is far from negative. If anything, you think he appears hungrier than you’ve ever seen him.

When he glances at Yoongi, you don’t see the latter’s reaction, but you can only guess it’s dirty because the smirk that carves into Jin’s face makes you quiver. Before you can blink again, you feel a hand grope your ass while another leads you forward.

“Way ahead of you, angel.”

This house is way too fucking crowded.

How the hell are you supposed to get a room to yourselves?

Disregarding that, why do you even go to these things anymore? As you’re moving up the stairway, you have to weave through multiple sweaty bodies and dodge spillage from tilted cups. Gross.

In a fleeting moment, you wish you had these two back in your apartment instead of in a random house. But having both of them at all is leading you not to care where the fuck this happens.

Even now, when you feel your ass getting shielded by an arm and your shoulder being held by a strong hand, you still don’t believe any of this is happening.

The upstairs is crowded but not as congested as the bottom floor, the three of you having room to stand in your own spacing. As you move to check for bedrooms, Yoongi peeks blond hair into a door before calling you both over.

“Hurry up,” he says, patting your ass when you pass over the threshold. “I think this is the one with a lock.”

“The only one with a lock?”

“The one with a lock that works.”

“God.”

Yoongi shuts the door with a bang, and you can hear him and Jin conversing while you observe the tiny space.

The bedroom’s nothing special. Small, dark wood floors, basic sheets and curtains. It’s painfully obvious that the one thing this occupant spends money on is tissues, if the stack of Kleenex by the bed is any indication.

Your mouth melts into a cringe.

Poor guy.

As you hope he isn’t the type that comes into pillow cases, you feel a pair of lips on the back of your neck, their warmth sending shivers down your back and into your top.

For a split second, you don’t know which one of them it could be, and that’s what finally makes you realize what’s about to happen.

And you’re trembling down to your bones with excitement.

Judging from the low purr, it’s Yoongi this time.

“Lemme taste those lips, princess,” he murmurs before caressing your jaw, lightly twisting you around to face him properly.

As Jin pulls off his tank, you feel a hot tongue slide over your plush, teasing with quick darts inside your mouth before pressing with a sliver of insistence.

He hums in intrigue before asking, “No watermelon today?”

“She definitely tasted like it.”

Ah. Yoongi was looking for your lip gloss. Cute as fuck.

You giggle while he turns, hurt evident in his voice, “Greedy bitch. I like that flavor.”

“Cry about it.”

“What a sore lo—”

Yoongi suddenly backs you into the nearest wall, his lips claiming yours again with a hint of annoyance. When you breathe mirth into your reciprocation, he retreats with a light tug on your bottom plush. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He shoves his mouth onto yours a final time, and you can’t help but laugh outright, stomach twisting into knots and curls when you can feel his spreading grin. Slinging your arms around his neck, you relish the way his erection smushes your skirt, the absence of any underwear letting you feel everything all too well.

Yoongi seems to remember this outfit choice, impatient fingers shoving the material up and finding your cunt in record time. When you buck forward, he offers a response in the form of dark glee.

“Gonna make you a pornstar, kitten,” he promises, slapping now-wet fingers against your clothed chest. “With these perfect tits.”

“Please do,” you sigh. “Tuition is kicking my ass.”

“You would talk about that shit right now.” Lip bitten, he gropes you with a warm palm. “It shouldn’t be this hot.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t be this hot, either,” you scoff, lightly flicking one of his chains. “But here we are.”

Where is Jin? What’s he doing?

Yoongi’s lips claim yours again, and you can’t fathom how each kiss feels like the first. Breathless, you shut your eyes and let him press you into the unforgiving wall.

When he leaves your mouth alone again, he confirms, “We doing this?”

“Mmhmm. I can’t lose another bet, Min.”

“I get that. But you good with recording?”

“Mmhmm. Are you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

“What about…” You turn to finally notice Seokjin swipe something from the lone desk in the room, but again, Yoongi gently guides your face back into another toe-curling kiss.

These kisses seem…

Hmm.

Whatever. No point in putting much stock in it. This is Yoongi, for crying out loud! Not some dude groveling at your feet.

When you finish that thought, he retreats again. “We already talked about it.”

Huh? They what? “When?”

“When he got asked the first time.”

“Wait, seriously?” You stop looking at his reddened mouth to search for truth in his gaze. “You’re joking.”

Yoongi smirks while maintaining eye contact, and you quickly feel uncharacteristically shy. But he gives you reprieve when he lowers his attention to the lips he wanted to taste. “Why do you think we turned your hot ass friends down?”

“I… Was wondering about that.”

“Found him jerking off to you,” Yoongi finally divulges with an air to his words, and a hand appears next to your ear. “So I already knew. Didn’t know y’all fucked until later, but. Figured he’d be okay with this.”

When did you start playing with his chains? How did they even get looped in your fingers so fast? “Even on video?”

Jin’s chuckle is so sudden and clear that you snap your head right to him.

“I’ll be the star of the show, angel. They won’t even notice you.”

Yoongi outright laughs at him while you gape.

Assholes! Both of them! You can’t even admire Seokjin’s beautiful bare chest with your glare damn it yes you can he looks so fucking fine.

God. One of these insufferable men is already enough to handle. But both? To yourself? Apparently this is very much not good for you.

Not that you’re complaining. Your friends would tear limbs to be in the position you’re in now. If anything, you’re containing your excitement. Because you don’t know how the fuck you’re gonna act once things start playing out.

Wait a second. Playing out…

Yoongi keeps to himself, but isn’t Seokjin a star athlete? Wouldn’t something like this get him kicked off the team or some other repercussion you don’t know about?

When you voice your concern, all you get is a careless shrug.

“It’s tennis. They don’t care.”

Well then.

Shooting amusement out of your nose, you accuse, “I think you just wanna do it anyways.”

At his wink, you bring a hand up to slide down his chest, salivating at how full and firm his muscles feel. Gripping a handful of his jewelry, you tug them just a tad while lowering your lids. “You better not be all talk.”

“You know I’m not, sweetheart.”

“Mm. But really, I just wanted to be sure,” you start, releasing him from your hold. “Especially with you.”

Before Jin responds, Yoongi cuts in with furrowed brows, “What about me?”

“You’re a whore,” you laugh, grinning wider at his fake affronted look. “You’d fuck with the door open.”

Immediately, he nods with pursed lips. “Facts.”

“Actually? Mmm. You’d probably fuck me over with a lawsuit, too, so…”

“Also true.”

Your tongue pokes childishly out of your mouth before you direct attention back to Seokjin, stilling when you see him already staring.

He zeros in on your lips—prompting you to wet them with your tongue—before sliding up to your eyes and burying dark promises in each one.

“Gross.”

While Yoongi retreats to remove his jacket, it’s Jin’s turn to bring you in for a kiss. Which you happily respond to, loving the way he immediately finds a palmful of thigh to grab.

Shit, his kisses feel so perfect and full and, dare you wish, possessive. You might end up puffy-lipped for the rest of the week if he keeps nipping you between sloppy licks.

Tilting your head, you push forward with fervor, tugging a moan from his throat with your tongue.

Chuckle dark, he lets you go with a tiny pop. “Didn’t know you were so greedy.”

“I am.”

“What else should I know?”

“Uh uh,” you tut, tapping him on the chest. “Spoilers.”

“How about you tell me now.”

Oh, you fucking plan on it.

Grabbing his hand, you bite your lip before guiding it between your legs, practically purring when he discovers your dirtier secret.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his fingers rolling over your slippery clit. “If you told me this sooner I would’ve gotten you all to myself.”

“Maybe you should’ve just done that anyw—”

“Hurry up before I get soft, lovebirds.”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you scoff, lolling your head to challenge his bored stare. “So impatient. Think of porn or something.”

“I’ll settle for making some, tha—”

The doorknob jangling captures all of your attentions.

Guess the lock really does work. Thankfully.

Yoongi signals a head tilt to his roommate before stepping in, and Jin leaves your side before you’re pushed flush against the wall again fuck that was quick.

A knee wedges in between your legs, shoving a rough groan from your throat.

“Eyes on me, princess,” Yoongi orders, gripping your chin in rough fingers. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” you goad, loving how this man isn’t changing his style even with another presence in the room. This level of handling is what you’re used to, and you don’t want him to let up in the slightest. “So fucking kiss me al—”

Yoongi’s lips smother yours before you can finish, and he sucks the last syllables right off your tongue. The change in pace resets you in the best way, and you welcome his familiar scent wrapping around you before his hands do.

Fuck, he’s a fantastic kisser, too. You probably could’ve gotten away with recording a makeout session with him and it would’ve somehow been vulgar enough.

But, as he rips himself from your lips to attack your column, you think this is the much, much better option.

“You really ready for both of us?” Yoongi nicks your ear, making you shudder before nodding in wordless reply. “Cus I don’t think you are.”

“I am,” you breathe out, throaty and with a bit of bite. “Fuck you, I’m ready.”

A hand suddenly slips between your legs, and you jolt up at the shock.

Thinking it was Yoongi that touched you, you’re surprised and delighted to see that it’s not.

“You hear that, Jin.”

“No.” The fingers gliding up your skin suddenly cup your drenched cunt with as much insistence as their owner’s command, “Speak up, angel.”

“I said fuck you,” you fling out in reply before your voice twists into a moan, pulled from your throat by the long fingers slapping your folds.

“What’d you say?”

“Fu—”

Senses blank as Yoongi’s fingers join Jin’s on your cunt, and your jaw unhinges before your breaths turn unfathomably ragged.

Holy fuck. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on.

“Careful with that mouth, princess.”

“Seems more like a brat to me.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

“As if,” you huff out through a lopsided smirk, thumping your head back onto the wall in pure bliss. They haven’t seen how much of a brat you can be. “You’re both just pussies.”

The deep reactions you get in return have you grinning to yourself in triumph, and you welcome the way Yoongi seizes your neck while Jin rips your top apart.

As buttons skitter across wood floors, you puff in pride, loving how easy it is to get these two going.

“No bra. No thong.” Yoongi expels a quick laugh before letting go of your column. “You wanna get fucked like a whore, huh.”

“Please,” you beg in a whoosh. “It’s been a long ass week.”

“You had those group presentations, right?”

“Ugh. Yeah, and they sucked.”

“Mm. Speaking of sucking.” He pats your cheek while you notice Seokjin painted with curious concern. “Get the fuck down there.”

“Y’all better be clean.”

“I am. Surprisingly,” Yoongi laughs before turning to Jin. “You tested, right?”

“Yeah, after that one girl scared the crap out of me.”

“Told you not to mess with her.”

That one girl? Interesting. “So we’re all good?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

As you drop to your knees, the wood floors merciless, you wonder if Jin’s got something on his mind.

Is he agitated? Does he think there’s something between you and Yoongi?

There isn’t. The guy just happens to talk to you more.

Seokjin can do the same if he really wanted. You yearn for him to make a move instead of hearing about other random chicks, truthfully. You’re god awful at making the first mo—

You don’t get time to think about it before you’re shoved into the front of Yoongi’s jeans. “What’re you spacing out for.”

“Sorry.” Looking up at him before you watch Jin’s expression, you smile. “I’m ready.”

“Fucking finally.”

“Min,” you chuckle as your face is smushed into his crotch again. Planting your hands on his thighs, you remind him, “Recording? Remember?”

“Oh. Yeah.” His bangs sway as he inspects your chest. “Where’s your phone? It’s not in your tits.”

You laugh at his pout before reaching behind you. “I have pockets for once.”

“Give it,” he orders when you present your device, slipping it from your fingers.

You love how you make him forget. And you love how he gets subtly coy whenever he realizes how caught up he can be.

Seokjin is quick to tease the blond further. “Camera shy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Start it then.” Jin reaches into one of his pockets, taking out… A what. “Top off, sweetheart. You’re wearing this instead.”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi stops staring at your chest to see what Jin’s talking about. “Is that a tie?”

“Yeah. Found it on the desk.”

After you dispose of your destroyed top—which you will charge them both for—your head is slipped through the soft loop.

While Yoongi looks satisfied as hell, Jin snickers, “Looks good on her.”

Feeling the material around your neck while staring up at the two of them unlocks something in you that requires several days to process. There’s no doubt there’s already strings of lust dripping between your legs.

“Fuck, she liked that.”

“I knew she would.”

“So predictable.”

“They all are.”

God, they’re talking about you like you can’t hear them. And it’s turning you on much more than it should!

Pulse after burning pulse erupts in your core, and you reach your first breaking point of the night. Breathing taut, you unzip Yoongi’s pants before slowly slipping him out, not giving any stock to how familiar he feels in your palm.

Despite not having a round with him in a minute, you still feel confident you know your way around his dick.

But before you start, you turn and look up at Jin. “Yours, too.”

Both of them groan before Jin reacts, unzipping and taking himself out as soon as you lick Yoongi’s tip.

He immediately relies on the hand he’s planted on the wall behind you, letting out a low curse. Your phone slips in his hand, but only by a bit, and you wonder why the recording light isn’t on. Maybe you turned that feature off in your setting at some point.

You keep going, licking along his velvety length before spitting on its veiny surface. Rubbing long and slow, you finally take him in and start sucking while darting your tongue underneath his weighty head.

Fuck, Yoongi really fits you well. Maybe too well.

“Shit.” When he expels a breath above you, heat disperses onto your scalp. And it seems he feels the same sentiments. “Fuck, I missed this mouth.”

You hum around him, knowing it’ll make him crumble even more. Having his cock between your smeared lips is something you’ve been wanting ever since you spotted him, and you’d like to think he can tell just from the way you’re going at it.

What makes things even better for you? There’s another person you want to suck the soul out of, and he happens to be in the same room. Staring down at you. Groaning when you reach up and take his length in your hand.

As you pump Jin while giving Yoongi head, a realization comes to mind—a stunning one.

You’ve had a threesome before, but it didn’t have two dicks involved.

Needless to say, this is quite new.

And you’re delighted as hell.

“She’s a lot prettier down there, don’t you think?”

“I prefer her this way actually.”

Fuck, they’re doing it again! Did you always have this hidden kink? What do you even call this? That isn’t important right now because how the fuck did they know you’d love this?

But as much as you’re adoring their outright ignoring, you like talking back even more.

Taking Yoongi’s cock in your hand, you release him with a small pop before scoffing,

“And I prefer you both quiet.”

“What did she say?”

“I think she said she wants to lose this bet.”

“No, no!” You backtrack at their laughs. Their stupid, attractive laughs. “Fuck you both,” you grumble before taking Yoongi back into your mouth.

As you feel his meaty length again, you hear him expel a half-chuckle, half-groan before commenting, “You won’t if you keep talking shit.”

“I thought the same, Yoongi. She’s not even paying attention to me.”

Oh. That’s a challenge you aren’t losing, whether you’re being goaded or not.

Gripping his cock and gathering his precum, you follow through with a motion you’ve only seen in videos. Your mouth releases Yoongi’s before latching onto Jin, and you feel a strange sense of pride when both of them react in reverence.

“What the fuck.”

“Ah, shit.”

Your eyes tilt up to find both men staring with all the hunger in the world, and you wonder what you must look like. Because you don’t think you’ve ever seen guys stare like that, even while being at your nastiest.

Though, this probably takes the cake. You’ve never sucked two people off in succession before.

Satisfied, you glide over Jin’s cock over and over, swirling your tongue and stroking the rest of him with determined fingers. Deciding to switch just because you can, you take him out with another vulgar pop and swallow Yoongi again.

They’re still saying things above your bobbing head. Or just making sounds. But you don’t quite register them anymore because you’re finding a rhythm and concentrating on relaxing your mouth.

Jin caresses your head while you work, now satisfied with having both his cock and ego effectively stroked.

But you don’t expect him to tug on your tie, pulling you forward to take Yoongi in until he knocks the back of your throat holy fuck—

His smirk at your immediate gag rattles the beast in your core and, while Yoongi snickers, he coos at your pout, “Something else you wanna say, angel?”

Oh, yes you do. You wanna say a lot of things.

In the end, you keep your mouth occupied and shut, choosing to simply flick the bastard off with your free hand instead.

But you don’t expect Yoongi to react.

After a low curse, he bites out, “Don’t do that again.” When you look up past his swinging jewelry, his teeth are prominent behind a strained smirk.

“I might fall in love.”

Oh.

You roll your eyes, disguising the fleeting way your heart double skips.

“Wait. Yoongi,” Jin halts, scarily wary. When you look up, he continues after Yoongi turns.

“Are you even recording?”

You freeze.

Fucking hell, he better be!

“I thought so?”

“Lemme see the phone. Ah, I knew it! It’s not even on!”

You take Yoongi out of your mouth to gape, frustrated to hell and back to this small ass bedroom. “Are you serious!”

“Oh, fuck. Sorry.”

“Yah, I can’t believe this.”

“Boo, you whore.”

“Wait, so none of that was—damn it!”

Your sigh is quick, and you wipe your flexing jaw of any excess drool. “Just make sure it’s going next time, yeah? At least we caught it now.”

“She’s right,” Seokjin comments before taking the phone from a still-crushed Yoongi. “You’re lucky I’m here, angel.”

Smiling up at him while trying not to think about the sting in your knees, you respond, “I am, Jinnie.”

“I’ll record. Just think of that as a warm-up.” He turns on the video, and you recognize the tell-tale white light that indicates a recording.

Damn, you were correct in thinking it was strangely off earlier. Now you know why. Goddamn it, Min.

Jin lowers to smooth his fingers over your cheek before patting twice. “Get to it, baby girl.”

You look at Yoongi before asking, “You good?”

He only stares, eyes swirling with something you can’t decipher. But he fakes a pout before lying through pretty teeth, “Nah. Guess you gotta make me feel better.”

“Such a liar,” you laugh, stroking him and taking him back into your mouth right as he beams.

Fuck, you love his cocky ass grin. And you hate how he knows it makes it hard to stay upset with him.

Knowing you’re truly being recorded now, something switches. Your sucks get fuller, your strokes get deeper, your mouth somehow loosens wider and can take more in.

“Come give me some love, angel,” Jin directs, reaching to lightly pull on your tie. “Let me see you.”

Shit, you’re already so wet.

Yanking yourself off, you give him the same treatment, spitting on his head before taking it in with no rest.

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go.”

While Yoongi is long, Jin is girthy, and you have to stretch your mouth a bit more to accommodate him. Adjusting on the spot, you feel tears start to form at the corners of your eyes when your lips start getting sore.

But the feeling of making them both puddy in your literal hands takes over—intoxicating. You’ll deal with the soreness in your mouth, your arms, your thighs. All of it, you will deal with.

Because it’s them.

Light flashes over you as you pause in rubbing Yoongi’s dick, and you flick your eyes up to see that your phone’s passed to him.

“Keep it on.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“You better becau—fuck.”

You hum a laugh around Jin’s length, knowing that cupping his balls would make him stutter. Recalling last time, you giggle thinking about the way it led to him hauling you up and throwing you back against his locker, your back sporting burns for days after that fantastic fucking session.

“Hi, baby girl,” Yoongi murmurs as you go right back to stroking him, bending and reaching down to fondle your chest. When you flinch at the touch, he hums, “Love these soft tits.”

You whimper around Jin, who folds forward and steadies himself on the wall behind your ass. Fuck, the floor is really not soft under you at all.

But Yoongi pats you roughly on the cheek before brushing tears away with a thumb. “So perfect handling us both, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You fucking love it, huh.”

You nod, eyes closing when he lightly slaps your face again.

“Thought so.”

Having your mouth full while getting pat on the cheek is something else.

But while being recorded? You’re practically purring imagining how that must look from Yoongi’s point of view.

Judging from his blown out eyes, it must look pretty damn fantastic.

“How does she feel?”

A groan. “Hot. Wet. Fuck.”

“Take more of him in, princess. I know you can.”

“More?”

When you stare at the light, it temporarily blinds you before you try to focus on the man praising you behind your phone. “Yeah, that mouth’s filthy. Get in there.”

Jin pushes in further, and you fully gag but don’t let up, hearing him groan as you keep your head bobbing. “Fuck.”

“Told you.”

You’re starting to reach euphoria, knowing you have full control no matter how cocky and smug these two are. Both of them are practically kneeling at your feet.

Ironic, given the positions you’re all taking.

You swirl around him, lifting him up to suck on his balls before tasting Yoongi on your tongue again.

“Fuck, she’s good.”

“She’s a pro.”

Your mouth feels thoroughly spent, but you keep going on primal desire alone. Saliva and lust falls down your mouth in tiny waterfalls, and there’s no doubt the tie is soaked through on your drenched chest.

When warm fingers pinch a nipple, you mewl, arching upward on instinct.

And Jin’s comment is a compliment laced with vulgarity, “All this time I’ve been calling you angel…”

You flick your eyes upward.

“Turns out I’ve been fucking a whore.”

Fuck. For them? You are, you are, you are. Goddamn, you’re so turned on it’s starting to frighten you.

Releasing Yoongi again, the pop sound you make is so distinct that you hear him throw his head back in a groan.

Without pause, you go right back to Jin. But he’s a little farther away than before, so you have to scoot over.

Which hurts like a bitch.

“Fuck,” you wince before licking along Jin’s length, the floors not allowing you to experience pure pleasure alone.

Immediately, Yoongi questions, “Knees okay?”

“Not really.”

Seokjin turns as Yoongi stops the recording. “Get her a pillow.”

“No,” you shoot out before taking him in. After you give him a full suck, you slide your fingers along his length. “I’ll ruin it.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m… So wet,” you admit, making both of them hum and groan in tandem. Gazing up at Yoongi, your tone is innocent but your words wholly sinful,

“Wanna feel it?”

Yoongi hums as he bends with furrowed brows, his throat rumbling rough when his fingers meet your cunt. “Oh, fuck.”

“Mmhmm.” You whine when you feel the friction you’ve been wanting, needily grinding on his fingers while he growls,

“Fucking nasty.”

Your pout is sickly innocent.

“Nah, this is… Hold on.”

You wince at the camera light when he starts another recording.

And it isn’t long until you feel wet fingers gather a shameful amount of slick before smearing it on your chest, rubbing around a nipple as you whine around Jin.

Holy fu—

There’s no pause before Yoongi dips his fingers right back in your cunt, languidly taking more from your folds before coating another layer on your breasts.

It’s all so erotic that you have to close your eyes just to keep sucking Jin off properly.

“Pretty bitch. Gonna look even better with our—”

“Yoongi.”

You flit your eyes open, trying hard to make out Jin’s expression.

Odd. You didn’t expect him to interject at all, so his sudden comment catches you off-guard.

Turns out you aren’t the only one, either. Yoongi stops on your skin before responding with a hum.

Is Jin getting… jealous? Or whatever you see in his eyes? Does he want Yoongi to just record and keep his filthy hands to hims—

“Stuff some in her mouth.”

What the fuck.

Yoongi’s chuckle rumbles out like dark thunder, and he bends down one more time to level his smugness and your phone with your face.

“You heard him,” he says to the device rather than you, and you can tell he’s loving how you look in the rolling video. “Open up, filthy girl.”

Whimpering, you free your lips and jerk upward when Yoongi fingers you once more. Opening wide, you have stars in your eyes when he bites his lip, and you taste the telltale flavor of yourself when he slowly swipes long fingers along your tongue.

You feel rather than see something in them break.

And your stomach somersaults because you sure as fuck break, too.

“Get her over there.”

“Yup, fuck it.”

It’s Seokjin that hauls you upward while Yoongi rips his jeans off. “Get up, angel.”

“Ow fuck,” you gasp at the sudden stretch of your legs, feeling the sting of abrupt use. “Hold on.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re okay,” you lie before a more truthful wince. “Ow.”

Yoongi reaches the bed first, yanking the comforter and sheets away from the top. It seems he stopped the video again. “Just sit her on the edge real quick,” he directs, and when you get settled, he shoves your skirt up while kneeling onto the floor, “Lie down and relax for a sec.”

“Huh?”

Relax? This is new. Yoongi’s more into the fuck and fuck off type nights—same as you. It’s why you usually pick him when you need to blow off major steam. What does he mean rel—

“Gonna teach all your pretty friends how to eat you out.”

There it is. “Fuck…”

“Uh huh. Open up for me.”

Your thighs prove ridiculously sore as you try, but you’re just thankful your knees aren’t competing with hard floorboards anymore. You grit your teeth as you keep opening up slow, and Yoongi tsks before getting up to lean over your chest.

Goddamn chains. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how they feel sliding along your skin.

“Your knees were like this that whole time?” Yoongi asks, voice low. “This floor’s hard as shit. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why is he concerned? He can’t keep asking you stuff like this. It’s messing with your head. “Don’t worry about it, Min.”

“Yoongi, hurry up,” Jin commands from behind. “I don’t like waiting.”

“Chill out, fuck. You might learn something.”

“From you?” A laugh. “As if.”

You have no idea where this side of Jin has been hiding but you highkey love and appreciate it, relating to his low level of patience yourself.

Yoongi clicks his tongue before straightening, falling back onto his knees with a thud. You miss the concerned look in his eye before he spreads you apart with no mercy, yanking a strained groan from your throat.

His grunt is low and rough when your cunt is in full view, and he slides slow fingers up your folds. “You get so wet every time. Hey, you recording?”

Jin responds with an affirmative, and the last warning you get is the light before Yoongi dives right in.

At the first touch of his warm tongue, you thrust upward, sighing to the ceiling and beyond. Outside, you hear someone bump into the wall before laughter erupts, but all of your body’s attention is on Yoongi’s licks and swirls around your clit.

With the shine of the recording light, you suddenly feel like a performer, moving your body slower and more controlled while Yoongi fucks you with his mouth. Your sounds are smaller than usual as you try to think about which moans are best.

Loud? Soft? Why are you even thinking about this? You’re just gonna share this with friends.

Did Yoongi’s words get to you that easily? These two are making you feel like you could actually make bank like this.

Especially when Jin reaches down to grab one of your tits, caressing the flesh before rolling a finger around a hard nub. The last thing you see before closing your eyes is his dick fully out, sweats removed while you were otherwise occupied.

His voice is heavenly as you feel the light concentrate on your face, “How’s that feel, angel.”

“So… So good,” you gasp, gripping Yoongi’s light hair in shaky fingers. His sucks on your clit make the dirtiest sounds, and when he licks a long stripe along your cunt, you throw your head all the way back.

All this stimulation is absolutely making you spin off multiple axes.

A light slap to your chest resets your brain. “Mm. I don’t hear any of those sounds that I’m used to.”

That’s not Yoongi’s fau—

The menace himself darts his tongue inside to hit a spot you’ve been needing him to, and a loud moan shoots right into the ceiling.

“Take that, bitch,” Yoongi mutters, to which Jin chuckles before lying next to you.

Your eyes flutter open to bright light when you feel him grip your chin. “Mm. I just wanted to see this face.”

Drunk off lust, your body keeps rocking onto Yoongi’s tongue. When you lower your lids, Jin grips your jaw again before commanding,

“Not now. Look at me.”

Oh, fuck.

Thoroughly droopy-eyed, you obey as he watches your chest bounce with your movements. When he studies how fucked out you must look, you whimper through smushed lips, and he smirks like a demon,

“Good girl.”

His favorite term of fuckingdearment for you. And one you absolutely preen at every damn time.

Those two words alone serve as fuel for your body, and you find yourself fucking Yoongi in earnest until he chuckles between your legs,

“Wait. Jin.”

“Huh?”

You stop as well as he does, and almost sink below the bed when Yoongi explains,

“Put her mouth to use, too.”

Jin looks down your body to point out, “I’m recording.”

“Do it. She’ll love that shit.”

Your groan confirms that fact.

And that’s all Jin needs to be convinced.

As Yoongi keeps his tongue glued to your folds, Seokjin gets up and positions himself next to your head, and you salivate at the way he slaps your cheek with his cock.

“Say ahh.”

You immediately oblige, going to rub him with a hand until he swats it away.

“Ah ah. No hands this time, sweetheart.”

You hear Yoongi snicker against your cunt, and hate how he laughs even harder after feeling just how much you liked whatever the fuck just happened.

Mouth stuffed; pussy eaten; face being recor—fuck, and now Yoongi’s fingers reaching up to grope your tits.

All of it is almost too much that you feel like you teleport to the edge rather than climb. All the pressure in your center triples in size, and pulses wrack your core again and again and again.

Teeth bite one of your thighs, making you yelp around Jin’s salty length. Yanking your mouth free, you pout, “The hell!”

“You asked for this, princess.” Yoongi smacks the side of your ass. “You aren’t coming until we say so.”

“No, fuck, please,” you rasp out, thumping your head back onto sheets. “It feels too good.”

“Too bad.”

“What! No!”

“Actually,” Yoongi vacates your pussy entirely, standing before leaning over you on veiny hands. “Get on that dick you just sucked.”

Fucking hell, his mouth is drenched in your juice.

Jin stops the recording before agreeing. “Finally. Thought you’d never stop. Come up here, angel.”

Seokjin sits up against the headboard, and your legs are mush as you try to prop your body upward.

When you finally crawl towards him, he watches with pure amusement. “Get a condom, babe.”

“Don’t need one,” you respond, earning disbelief from both of them.

“You sure?”

“What’d she say?”

“No condoms,” you assure. “Not tonight.”

Yoongi audibly curses low and long, and you can hear him stroking himself while you plant hands on Jin’s shoulders.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Skirt off?”

“No.”

“Kinky,” you tease. “We haven’t done it like this yet, huh.”

“A damn shame.” He fondles a nipple, making you jerk with a tiny whine. “We haven’t fucked in a bed, either.”

“I can’t decide if that’s hot or just sad.”

“It can be both.”

“Hurry up.”

“Kiss my fat ass, Min.” You mount Jin before sheathing yourself on him, gasping before gnawing on your lower lip.

Holy fuck, you feel so full and you’re only halfway on.

You can’t even take all of him inside, even with Yoongi lubing you up impossibly well. “You’re so big, Jinnie...”

“Tell me more.”

Before you can respond, he thrusts up into you, smirking when your mouth only flops open while you crumple forward.

You hear Yoongi let out a laugh of condescension, and you throw a raspy “Shut up” over your shoulder before panting again.

“Show him how a slut fucks, princess.”

When Jin looks into your eyes, you’re more than happy to weakly wink. Addressing Yoongi while regarding your favorite athlete, you divulge, “Won’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You smile while biting your plush, waiting for Jin’s instructions if he has any. When you see the camera light illuminate the headboard in front of you, he simply encourages,

“Make me proud, angel.”

Anything to do just that.

You swirl around, lifting yourself with your thighs before slamming back down as far as you can.

But you can only go down so far. He’ll dig into your guts if you take him in all the way.

“Why so shy,” he goads, chains sparkling above angry reddened skin. “He can know how you fuck me.”

“Fuck.” You grit your teeth as he chuckles. “You’re just so damn big.”

“Your mouth didn’t seem to mind.”

Damn, he got you there.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Jin continues to coax as he slides a large hand up your thigh. “Unless you wanna do this my way.”

As much as you do, you need to be able to walk out of this house.

So you brave the rest of his length, whimpering as you focus on loosening your cunt and slipping more and more of him inside.

“That’s it, angel,” Jin grunts, gripping your hip. “Fuck, you’re sending me this video, too.”

Oh, shit. You fucking forgot you were being recorded.

Somehow, that information loosens you enough to be comfortable, and you want to make a movie that’ll convince Seokjin to not look for anything else.

Jin groans as you switch gears completely, riding him like he’s paid you a disgusting amount of money. When the muscles in his neck protrude, you can’t help but lick along their delectable lines.

If the breathy sounds in your ear aren’t enough, the groans behind your back serve as further encouragement.

And feeling thoroughly appreciated by both of them, you nip at Jin’s throat while throwing your ass back to give Yoongi even more of an erotic view.

“Fuck. Do that again, kitten.”

You do.

“Arch that back.”

Jin takes one of your nipples in his mouth as you happily obey, flipping your head back and sighing to the ceiling.

His licks and sucks spurn you to move at a sensual pace, hungry for any and all friction you can grab. His cock is splitting you apart in the best way, and you feel everything as you swivel around in circle after slow circle.

“Slap her ass, Jin.”

You moan when the man immediately does so.

And mewl when he does it even harder.

“Fuck, that’s hot.”

You feel Yoongi’s curses hit your back again, and you swivel your hips around. Knowing you can do more, you glide all the way up and down his pulsing girth, even bringing your hands around to grip your asscheeks before spreading them.

There’s no telling where this you came from. Maybe it’s the way these two are making you feel, or maybe you’re just completely entranced by their charm.

Either way, you burst with lust and attraction when you hear Yoongi grit out,

“So fucking nasty.”

Right after, Jin snags your chin in his hands before bringing you to his face. “Didn’t know you were such a naughty girl, sweetheart.”

You manage out a laugh, and you hate hate hate how shy it is. “Me neither,” you admit. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Well.” He kisses you rough before ripping away. “Don’t let us stop you.”

You shake your head, agreeing to keep whatever the hell this is going. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

“Lemme have her.”

Jin peeks out from behind you to scold, “Wait your turn!”

God, they really are roommates. The level of pettiness between them is hilariously childish.

And to further your point, Yoongi’s complaint makes you burst. “You took all her lip gloss, lemme have this.”

You can’t help but keep your smile intact when Seokjin softly chuckles, snuggling yourself in his creased eyes and bobbing shoulders. When he turns to you, his curve goes diagonal before patting your ass. “Go ahead, baby. Show him how you pity fuck.”

Your laugh punctures the ceiling, almost drowning out Yoongi’s drawn out, “Wow.”

But you’re already obliging, whimpering when you feel the loss of Jin’s cock. The level of need you feel should scare you as you make your shaky way over his cut waist, but it doesn’t. Maybe later, you muse as you spot Yoongi sitting on the edge of the mattress, propped up by lazy arms behind him.

When you arrive between his legs, the blond tosses your phone to Jin. “You better record this,” he drawls. “I recorded her fucking you like a pornstar.”

“You don’t trust me?” Seokjin holds up the device on a bent knee. “I like seeing her like this.”

“I’d drink to that,” he agrees, slowly chuckling when you fidget in place. “She’s so fucking good.”

“Too good.”

You fold your lips in, waiting for any instructions that Yoongi has, if any. From the looks of things, it seems like he’s just waiting for a bus instead of getting fucked, leaned back and facing Jin instead of you.

“Uhh.”

He turns to smirk your way, and you know he senses your clench around nothing. “Yes, princess?”

“Do you want me to…?”

“What?”

“You’re not moving.” You aim confusion his way, trying your damned hardest to not look at the silver around his neck. “I don’t know what you want.”

What’s his game here? You wanna fuck him into next week, but… Is there a reason why he wanted you so suddenly?

He watches you fiddle with the tie before roaming hungry, blown out eyes all the way up to your face.

“Skirt off.”

Wordlessly, you unzip, slipping it off until it falls.

“Tie, too.”

Again, you loosen the accessory, marveling at just how wet it feels before you throw it behind you.

Finally, all of you are completely naked. And you wonder what both of them are thinking, their collective silence being beaten out by the muffled music downstairs.

When Yoongi says his last request, you shiver.

“Want those tits in my face.”

“Then lie down for me.”

He follows your command immediately, but not without tugging your upper body down with him. Instantly taking one of your nipples in his mouth, he twists the other, causing you to moan and start sliding onto his cock without further coercion.

Fuck, you haven’t taken two dicks in succession this way, either. If you thought your mouth had work cut out for it, this is slightly more difficult.

“Slow down, kitten,” he whispers before taking another nipple in his mouth. “Fuck, you’re still tight after that?”

You whimper again as he tweaks the other breast, groping the flesh in a rough palm after a light slap. The buildup that you felt on Jin is coming back with more force, and you push through the discomfort purely to feel full again. You need it need it need it.

Bliss again. Fulfilled again.

Yoongi hums before sucking on a nub, and your body is so stimulated that your movements are decided for you, gasps leaving your unhinged jaw as you ride him with thrusts that fill your soul.

“Fuck, doll,” he groans into your chest—a name he’s only given you on a few occasions. You’ve noticed that he only says this when he’s completely gone, so you take this as a sign to thrust yourself onto him harder. Harder. Harder. “Shit!”

Bending down to attack his neck, you murmur into his skin, “You gonna come?”

“I want to, fuck.”

“Yeah? You wanna fill me up?”

“Fuck. You know I do.”

“Do it. If you aren’t a pussy,” you grit, yanking his ear with your teeth and loving his hisses.

This always happens with him. No matter how commanding he is, he always gives you room to do what you want. Room to make him a shuddering mess.

You love being in control. And it seems that Yoongi is the one that understands that on a deeper level than anyone else. Because, you assume, he’s the exact same.

“Fuck me, Min,” you plead, sighing in satisfaction when you feel strong arms flip your positions in a few swift movements.

“Cut the shit and say my name.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, yelping when he thrusts into you with a long stroke.

“Louder.”

“Yoongi.” You whisper before you feel him hit a spot that activates stars. “Yoongi!”

Your body goes completely limp as he bucks into you at a stunning pace, and your yelps make Jin stroke his cock even faster.

“My god,” you hear him groan to himself, and you turn your head to see him staring at you instead of through your phone.

“Eyes on me.”

You flick your gaze upward, moans breathy as you feel his chains swing across your chest. “I’m… So close,” you stutter out, gripping his biceps on each side.

“I feel it.”

“I feel you, too.”

It’s there. Your release. It’s approaching with a vengeance from being denied once, and you know it’s going to consume you whole.

It’s here. It’s here here here—

“Sit up,” Yoongi suddenly orders before pushing himself up, vacating your cunt in the blink of an eye.

Thrown off, you’re about to yell before he grits out, “Stand up. Feet on the floor.”

Oh, fuck.

He’s gonna split you open.

“Shit.”

“Uh huh.”

Wincing, you move sore thighs from the bed, planting shaky feet on the ground when your hips are gripped.

Right before Yoongi sits back down on the bed, though, he plants a kiss on your shoulder, and the action almost resets your brain.

But he settles before slowly twisting you, so you can’t really gauge his expression—and if you need to be confused or not.

“Why this now,” you gasp as he tugs you back down onto him again. “You were about to—”

“You’re coming first.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s see it, angel,” Seokjin agrees as he slides off the bed. As you see him walk up, he’s still filming from above as he continues, “You first.”

“Oh.” Why do you feel those stupid butterflies again? Why are both of them a little strange tonight? “Oka—Min!”

The spank causes Jin to chuckle, and you turn around to pout at a Yoongi winking in amusement. “What was that for?”

“For being too good at this.”

“What.”

You feel a hand slap your breast, and you jolt at the pleasure sent to your core. You whip around to regard Jin as he tags on, “He’s right. You sure you aren’t a pro?”

“Are you even tired?”

“I’m fucking exhausted,” you exhale. “I’m just… not a quitter.”

They both laugh at different levels, and Yoongi observes, “You really don’t wanna lose this bet, huh.”

…You don’t have the heart to tell him you forgot about it.

“Something like that.”

“Get to it then, nasty girl.” Yoongi sits up fully and plants his hands on your hips. “Gimme this wet pussy.”

“I—fuck!” You fold forward as his thrusts catch you off-guard, your walls back to throbbing and pulsing around his length.

But there’s no rest because your head is suddenly yanked back.

“Look here, angel,” Jin orders with finality, and you don’t even realize your eyes are so lidded until you try to see him. “Open that mouth wide.”

When you do, both you and Yoongi groan at the way Jin spits on your tongue.

Fuck—

Stern fingers close around your throat, forcing your upper body still while Yoongi keeps his merciless pace. “Don’t swallow until I say so.”

Fucking hell.

You may as well have left the planet entirely, your body no longer yours and entirely theirs and theirs alone. Limp and drunk with lust, you float, the rhythm of your heartbeat matching the thrusts between your folds.

It’s not even you that announces that you’re close to coming. Because aside from guttural breaths, you find that you no longer know any inkling of speech. Instead, you only hear commands.

“Let them see you come, baby girl.”

“Ah ah, look right here.”

As Jin lets go of your airway, your body obeys without a second thought, as if it knows nothing else except the sounds of their voices. Thousands upon thousands of waves pull you under, tugging your eyes far into the reaches of your head. Pulses. Waves. Light. Sound. For a moment, you arrive at the gates of Heaven, waiting on stinging knees to be banished to the deepest circles of Hell.

“Holy fuck, she’s milking the shit outta me.”

“I said swallow, angel.”

You gulp, gasping out a high whine as you keep sucking Yoongi in with force, tears rolling down your sweaty cheeks and feeling shocks all over your limbs. Hot spurts fill your cunt, and you realize what’s happening a lot later than you should have.

And, slowly—in the midst of their casual exchange—you descend back down to reality on quivering legs.

“Good girl.”

“Did her eyes do that thing?”

“When they roll back? Yeah.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot.”

“Holy fuck,” you rasp, leaning forward until Jin gently holds you up.

And you breathe. And breathe some more.

It’s strange, how you feel weightless and yet so, so heavy.

Above you, the words that strike you are a sharp contrast to the hand cradling your head. “Who said you were done?”

You squeak.

“Back on the bed, princess,” Yoongi confirms, spanking a cheek before slowly lifting you off of his drenched length. When you feel fingers slowly lodge hot cum back into your cunt, you whimper as he growls, “Goddamn… Keep this shit in.”

“Give me like, two seconds,” you breathe out, twisting and flopping onto your forearms when Yoongi moves.

Holy shit, you’ll need a miracle to get to your second finish. You don’t even know if your brain is working anymore, relying solely on your body to take over.

Mercifully, you hear the doorknob jiggle again. Which means one of them has to scare off yet another horny couple.

Seems like it’s Seokjin again. You hear Yoongi right beside your head, assuming he’s on the ground and leaning on the edge of the mattress. “You tapping out?”

“No,” you quickly deny, exhaling before breathing in again. “Wanna come for both of you.”

You bury your face into scratchy sheets before giving yourself a few more breaths, faintly hearing a conversation happen at the doorway. When you’re more ready, you lift tired, smeared eyes to see Yoongi staring at you with pride.

“Fucking incredible.”

Don’t say that.

“Please,” you brush him off. “I… I know that.”

He grins, blond hair plastered to his forehead in bunches. When he flicks his gaze above your spent bones, he watches for a second before looking back at you. “You really okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’ve done this before, right?”

“Only once. You?”

“Once or twice,” he clearly undersells.

“I like it.”

Yoongi offers the smallest smile, reaching to brush a thumb over your cheek. “I can see that.”

Why is he so different tonight? Does he think you need this level of affection right now? Have you really gotten soft for him or is this the bliss tampering with your feelings? You bite your lip to keep from grinning, flinching when he lightly slaps you before gripping your chin in his wet fingers.

“Such a pretty whore.”

Yes. This is better. Stay out of that touchy territory. “So are you.”

“Thanks.”

Seokjin’s hand comes down on your ass in a playful spank, and you launch forward from the shock of it alone. “Jin, what the fuck!”

“Ah, you are alive.”

Oh, you are going to fight both of them. For several rounds. “You could’ve just as—”

Another spank to your other cheek tugs out a moan, and Jin quips as Yoongi chuckles, “This is much more fun. You okay now, sweetheart?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Now I’m hurt.”

Laughing, you roll over exhausted muscles and spread your legs just a bit. “I’ll make it better.”

Thoroughly satisfied, Jin positions himself above you, another set of jewelry swaying over your chest. “In that case,” he puffs against your face before sitting on his haunches, tugging your sore as fuck thighs above his taut muscles. “I’m heartbroken.”

You can only whimper as he slaps your filled cunt with his cock before pushing inside, and you wince while accommodating him as best as you can.

“Breathe, angel.”

“Sorry,” you gasp. “So fucking full.”

“You take it so well. Just relax.”

“Mmhmm.”

Once pleasure leaks into your cunt instead, you feel unbelievable. You would’ve thought the opposite after taking in Yoongi so roughly, but Seokjin is rubbing against all the right places and shocking you back to life.

Holy shit, he feels good. Too too good. His cock keeps hitting a spot that springs stars to your eyes, and you can’t decide whether to watch him or slam your eyelids tight from too much pleasure.

When you pick the first option, you regret it immediately, groaning at his gold hitting his taut chest with every fast stroke. His eyes are completely entranced by your pussy getting reamed, and you can only assume how filthy it must look from his angle. How terribly, wonderfully filthy.

“I knew it would miss me,” he slowly chuckles. “It knew who to wait for.”

“Annoying,” Yoongi mutters, and you loll your head sideways to send the disgruntled cameraman a grin.

As your body rocks with Jin’s thrusts, your curve devolves into a lip bite, and you suddenly wonder how fucked out you must look in the recording. Frankly, you can’t wait to see the movies. You might get yourself off to them more times than you will ever admit.

“Look at me.”

You furrow your brows at the camera lens. “I am.”

“At me.”

What?

…Does Yoongi mean himself?

Warily obliging, you lock eyes with him as he keeps holding your phone.

And you almost regret it. Because why the hell is he looking at you like that?

It’s making your chest cave in. Your heart is starting to expand in two different directions. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Destroy the moment.

Panting and arching upward when Jin palms one of your nipples, you gasp, “Lemme suck you off.”

Yoongi snags the bait. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“If you’re gonna do that,” Jin interjects, yanking himself out of your wet core with a squelch. “Hands and knees, angel.”

Fuck. The moment you’ve anticipated the most is just in reach.

You may actually hit your second wave, and it might be even stronger than the first. It damn well might take you out completely.

As you force yourself over and up on all fours, you feel the bed dip as Yoongi gets in front of fuck Seokjin is wasting no time in sheathing himself again. Shit, he feels divine from this position, his balls tapping your clit and making your dirty soul sing.

And though you can’t see Yoongi through shut eyes, you can certainly smell him. The scent is heady, offensively, distinctly sexual.

Goddamn, all of you made this room filthy as fuck.

Finally, you peel your eyes open to see him stroking himself, instinctively leaning forward to lick the salty bead of liquid at his tip. When he hums, you realize with heated cheeks what the mixed flavor on your tongue is supposed to be.

Because of all the things you’ve done tonight, that is the one that makes you embarrassed.

Another lick.

“Fuck...”

You’re about to be completely filled, and the thought alone coaxes drool from your mouth and onto some poor guy’s sheets. Giggling and virtually high off lust, you wrap fingers around Yoongi to offer some slick strokes of your own, taking him and moaning around his ridges.

“Get her ass, Jin.”

Seokjin’s thrusts suddenly go deep and fast as he grips your hips with strength, and your abrupt screams are completely muffled by Yoongi’s cock. As you’re launched forward, you take more of him in, and your mind utterly and completely blanks.

You’ve never felt so euphoric. So gone. So separated from earth and existence entirely.

Being filled to the brim is doing things to you that you never thought possible. Connection to one person is already fulfilling to you. But two? Having two people ravishing you like you’re their last thread to reality makes your head spin until it never stops.

You’re close. Fuck, you’re so fucking close already and you know that Jin can feel it. Hands grip your hips impossibly hard before he stutters out,

“Fuck, angel, you—fuck!”

Yoongi catches on immediately, his voice gravelly and volcanic as he speaks, “Gonna come one more time?”

You can only offer a hum around him, causing him to groan before commanding quick, “Then look here, kitten. Uh uh, at me.”

As you gaze up, you see the light of the camera shining on your face, still wondering how the fuck being recorded turns you on tenfold.

It’s enough to fling you off the ledge completely.

Everything crashes and crumbles down as you milk Jin impossibly hard, and you yell when Yoongi shoves into your loosened mouth as far as he can. When you take him all in, his lustful breath pours over you in a wave, matching the ones battering you against your own merciless shore.

Pulse after pulse wracks your body as you shudder around the two of them, and you feel all your hands and legs giving out. Jin’s cum squirts into you, again and again, and you’ve never felt so dirty and beautiful in your goddamned life.

When Yoongi rips himself from your mouth, you grasp for all the air in the world as you sink into the sheets, and Jin slides out of you with a groan.

Holy shit, you are full down there.

You crumple onto the mattress, labored breaths mixing with theirs as they both follow you in seconds.

Yoongi’s pants are shallow as you watch sweat drip from his bangs, and you can feel Jin’s hot puffs on your back.

And no words are spoken for seconds. And seconds.

And seconds.

It’s Jin that swallows before rasping out first, “You okay?”

You exhale before gulping in more air. “Mmhmm.”

“Neither of y’all… better pass out,” Yoongi pants. “I need you… to carry me out when I do.”

Lazily, you swat his slick arm. “I’m leaving you if that happens.”

“Same. I got a tourney tomorrow.”

Huh? Jin has a whole ass tournament and decided to do this? “Wait, really?”

“Yoongi has a lab in six hours, too.”

“Dude.”

“What?” Why did they both decide to do this with you? They clearly shouldn’t have. “Why did you both…”

“Don’t worry about us, angel.”

“We couldn’t let you lose.”

“Thanks…” You gnaw on your lip, shyly adding on something you’ve been thinking about ever since getting into this godforsaken room with them, “But don’t get mad if I don’t end up showing them.”

“Huh?”

“What.”

“I think… I think they’ll legitimately hate me if I do,” you explain, expecting the reactions that you got from both sprawled out men. “They wanna fuck y’all so bad.”

“Of course they do.”

“I fucked one of them, but. It was mid.”

“Well goddamn,” you laugh, raspy and pitied. Damn, your entire body—inside and out—is gonna be sore for days. “Don’t tell me which one.”

“Do whatever you want with the videos,” Jin cuts in before gently stroking your back. “But I want them.”

“Fuckin’ same.”

Both of them want the recordings? You heard Seokjin say he wants one, but Yoongi, too?

Interesting. Even more interesting that you feel like you can trust both of them to respect what you want.

“Okay,” you sigh. “But don’t share them just yet.”

“Are you kidding? I’m shy.”

You pretend to elbow a chuckling Jin when Yoongi comments,

“They’ll just have to believe us when we say it happened.”

Very, very interesting.

“Deal,” you agree, hissing when moving your leg a mere millimeter makes you wince. “Fuck, I can’t even move. I dunno how I’m getting home.”

“I drove,” Seokjin notes as Yoongi runs a hand along your arm. “We can take you.”

“K.”

The blond manages to lift his head to launch a comment over your body, “Damn, we should’ve just done this at our place.”

And as you feel soft fingers caress your back again, Seokjin responds with something that shocks and excites you all the same,

“Next time.”

Spent. Exhausted. Completely satisfied and fulfilled.

These are dangerous positions to be in when you’re grappling with a myriad of feelings. If you could go back in time, you’d laugh at yourself for thinking this could be done without entertaining emotions. Scoff at how cocky you were just to think that it was possible.

But… you’d also simply watch past you from afar. Watch with a knowing gaze how you came into this house with a lot less to think about, but also a little less direction.

Later, you’ll have quite a few things to sort out. For now, you allow yourself to admit a couple truths.

Like the fact that you’ll lose this stupid bet.

And the fact that you might like both of the people that helped you.

“Exactly,” you hum through a smile. “Next time.”

Jiminnn [3:09am]: fuck

Jiminnn [3:09am]: hobi and i just heard from yoongi

Jiminnn [3:10am]: if you’re ever down for another round

Jiminnn [3:10am]: let us know

end. :))

A/N: ALRIGHT... LISTEN!! i can explain... no i can’t i really cannot but anyways if you somehow made it to the end, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think or like bc this piece snatched my soul and i still haven’t found it🥴 also. if it wasn’t good, i am so sorry sdjfnkd you can chuck it straight in the bin if you want and forget this ever happened😭 ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending 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 feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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jeonbunnie · 10 months

Text

i hate u, i love u

pairing: reader x seokjin

anon requested: “i hate u, I love u by gnash ft. olivia o'brien with jin an angst and smut. Y/N is jin's side chick but he always goes back to his gf... college au please”

summary: If loving Jin is wrong, you don’t wanna be right.

genre: friends to lovers; angst; smut; fwb; 18+

soundtrack: i hate u, I love u — gnash ft. olivia o'brien

content/warnings: best friend!seokjin; established relationship, college!au, unrequited love, swearing, dirty talk, unprotected sex

word count: 1k

♪ I hate you, I love you. I hate that I love you ♪

It was a mistake to sleep with your best friend. You hadn’t planned on ending your one-night stand together in anything but a night of pleasure. Jin was fresh out of a breakup, and it was messy and stupid, but you wanted to fix it for him, to take the pain away.

So when he kissed you, begging you to help him get over her—you didn’t hesitate. You kissed him back.

It was pity at first, and then lust, but soon after, much, much more than that.

Jin tasted like tears and salt and heartbreak. And every time he held your hand, had your back, or made you laugh,

And every kiss was a memory, a moment of passion brought to life with a new feeling.

Afterward, nothing was ever the same for you.

You loved him. And not like a friend.

Stupidly, when you started sleeping with Jin, you thought you would be unaffected. You knew what you were waking into. You weren’t a blushing virgin, and Jin wasn’t your time having a friend with benefits. You were a big girl; you could handle yourself. Or so you thought.

You both swore it wouldn’t happen again, but it did. And it became a habit. Every time things ended with Jin’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, you’d find him in your dorm, too late for his arrival to be anything more than casual sex.

And tonight was no different. So you let Jin sneak into your dorm and steal kisses in the dark, whispering sweet things into your ear, calling you darling, baby, angel. The words melted on his tongue as sweetly as they melted your heart.

It was a mistake to take him as a friend and lover. Nothing about hooking up with Jin was easy. You knew a part of him was using you, but the sex.

All day long, all you could think about was his kiss.

You waited for the moment he would grab you by the waist, his hot breath on your neck.

“Did you miss me?” He whispered as he caressed your body.

And when his hands slipped between your thighs to rub at that sweet spot while his mouth—god, his mouth—left wet kisses down your neck, how could you say anything else but yes?

You liked how he kissed you, how his plush lips moved smoothly against yours, tongue hot in your mouth.

“Yes,” you breathed. You liked how Jin touched you, rubbing sweet circles on your clit till you were a whining mess, till you couldn’t help but beg for more. And he’d give it to you, sliding his thick fingers inside you when you needed it most, fingering you just right, making you see stars.

You liked how he fucked you, slow and deep, cock pounding into you while his hands held thighs apart, giving full access to claim your body as he saw fit.

“Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” He’d tease, knowing you could only answer him with a moan.

He never really waited for an answer, preferring to swallow down your moans; each whimper of yours only drove him to move faster and deeper with every thrust till you lost your breath and mind.

You loved the feeling of him taking you completely, sliding his thick cock inside you. You didn’t know that he was stealing more than just your breath away.

He stole your heart, too.

And you let him, giving yourself to him every other night like an offering; your body is soft and pliant, like a ripe peach, ready for the taking. Jin was all too eager to take a bite. Little by little, piece by piece. Until let him have you whole.

And when you came back down from the high, body still trembling, Jin wasted no time scooping you into his arms, curling you into his body. You laid in his arms, sure you could have him like this forever.

But forever only lasted as long as it took for his girlfriend to apologize.

A ping on the bedside table brings you both

back to reality. Jin reached for his phone, trying to cover the light from the notification, but you didn’t have to see the message.

You already knew who it was from.

So why was it that this time, watching him put on his clothes in the middle of the night nearly broke your heart in two?

You stop him with a hand on his wrist before he can go. “Jin, don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t go. I want you to stay.”

You don’t say what you mean:

Please don’t go back to her.

Please stay with me.

The words are on your tongue, but too much time has passed for you to tell him how you feel. All you can do is hold on tight, desperate to keep him by your side.

Jin freezes in your hold. “You know I can’t do that…”

“Why?” you ask. “Why do you always go back to her, even when she’s the one that hurts you the most?”

It’s this question that made Jin face you. He sat on the bed, reaching over to cup your cheek. Despite yourself, you can’t help but lean into the touch like a lovesick puppy.

“Because I love her. I’ll always go to her.”

And though his touch is gentle, the words hit you like a slap because it was the truth.

“You understand, don’t you?”

That was the thing—you did—you understood him more than you wanted to.

You hated him for that. But not enough. Not enough to make you turn him away.

Jin would always go to her.

And you’d always wait for him.

You loved Jin more than you hated him. You might have loved him even more than he loved her.

No matter how many times he hurt you, no matter how many times he ran back to her, you would always wait for his return because Seokjin was the only man you ever truly loved.

Too bad he wasn’t yours.

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #bts fic #bts scenario #song fic #jin drabble #jin x reader #jin angst #jin smut #jin fic #my fics.🍪#req fill.📦

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piedpiperslists · 6 months

Text

Seokjin Drabbles (XXVII)

* s - contains smut

Pure Galaxies by @jjkeverlast angst, best friend's brother, secret relationship, cabin trip au Summary: Taehyung wasn’t supposed to find out on your annual cabin trip, that you were hopelessly in love with Seokjin, someone who’s in the zone of ‘do-not-date.’

Musical Chairs by @ugh-yoongi rivals au, teachers au

Got Me All Messed Up by @ugh-yoongi s brother's best friend, FWB

Want It Anyway by @ugh-yoongi s brother's best friend, FWB

Don’t Bring My Mother Into This by @jjungkookislife friends to lovers Summary: “This is a one time thing.” + “My mother adores you.”

Not Like Me by @jjungkookislife friends to lovers Summary: “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” + “Could he make you feel as good as I do?”

Drunken Confessions by @hoseokhasmyheartxx friends to lovers Summary: When you go to pick your best friend up from the bar, the last thing you’re expecting is a drunken confession.

[drabble] by @ubemango fake dating au

I Hate U, I Love U by @jeonbunnie angst, FWB, college au Summary: If loving Jin is wrong, you don’t wanna be right.

Rewind by @singguks childhood friends to lovers Summary: In which... childhood friends reunite in a serendipitous moment, sparking nostalgic memories, unspoken feelings, and the return of an irreplaceable bracelet.

A Question for You by @minisugakoobies established relationship Summary: Jin's got a question for you.

What a Line by @minisugakoobies friends to lovers Summary: Waist rubs while laying close to each other + “I want to explore your body if you’d let me.”

Keep It Down by @minisugakoobies s ft JJK, established relationship

[drabble] by @kidguk established relationship Summary: Getting married + “No, no, no. I know where this is going to lead. We do not have the time for sex.”

Run Away by @7ndipity established relationship Summary: Just a little thing about you and Jin spending a lazy day together.

#ksj list #seokjin drabbles

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muniimyg · 1 year

Text

40 | muse ✒️

series m.list

taglist: @kakixaku @boraength @4ksj @pamzn @jinsearth @fancycollectormoon @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @fan-ati--c @kthlvr30 @ellesalazar @taeees-world @sukunasrealgf @firesighgirl @jeonninja @bloopkook @butterymin @pinkseokchim @joonsjuice

warning: it’s a club scene y’all. ur typical fanfic yn getting hit on by someone else nd the love interests being 👊🏽😡 … take it as u will … implied violence (punch & a mini threat the guy deserves), angst angst aNGST 🤭

note: FRIENDS !!! this ch is the sole purpose of paraluman… i literally built an entire plot over this mere idea of conflict 😃 i hope u enj ,, as i will be taking a short break to update my other ongoing fics prewrite for the finale 🤡👍🏼 as always, ur thots nd reblogs are always appreciated <3 see u guys later

“No fucking way,” Taehyung gasps.

Taehyung is stressed—almost irritated with how you look tonight. He is in disbelief with how you walk in like you don’t know everyone is looking at you. Since Taehyung has always been a man of standards, evidently so, he doesn’t waste his time with people who don’t meet them. Tonight, it seems that you’ve exceeded them. As the sight of you settles in, he begins to get it. He finally understands why Jin and Jungkook are so obsessed with you.

Case in point: you look good.

You look good and everyone here knows it. Nevermind that the club is filled, getting through the crowd doesn’t seem to be an issue for you. As people clear a way for you to walk through, you gently thank them. Now, everyone has their eyes on you for sure. It’s like a grand entrance of a rom com.

As the music blasts and the lights flash around the nightclub, your friends seem to have no problem fixating on you. You continue to make your way through the clearing crowd and stand before them with a warm smile. They are all gathered around a reserved lounge seating with drinks in their hands. It’s so nice to see everyone together. Of course, Yoongi isn’t here but this is as close to competition as your friend group can get.

Taehyung, who is already standing, greets you as he hands you a drink. You thank him sweetly and just as you’re about to sit down next to Nam Joon and Hoseok, Jimin purses his lips and makes a face at you.

“What is it?” you demand, folding your arms together. You aren’t sure if he’s giving you that face because you disgust him or impress him. It’s really either or. “Something wrong with the way I look, Mr. Park—”

“No, you look beautiful,” Jimin admits smoothly before turning towards the direction of Jungkook and Jin. Jungkook and Jin raise their glasses to you, nodding nonchalantly. You tilt your head at them, unsure what to make of this image. You aren’t sure if they’re playing a trick on you or not.. They look awfully close tonight.

You’ve never really seen them get along. Aside from somewhat friendly and vague exchanges prior to your relationship with Jin, the two were never really friends. They were merely roommates whose families have always been acquainted with one another. Their friendship was out of respect for their families. Living together was just a coincidence and practical decision in terms of location and connection. Meeting you and being caught in the middle of it was just… Life.

Therefore, this an unlikely picture to see.

The two men sitting next to each other? Odd.

In a way, you’ve waited and wondered when this time would come—rather, if it would ever come. When have these two ever willingly been this civil? Even before your relationship with Jin was out in the open, Jungkook often presented himself passive and rude to Jin. Jin would always reply coldly and in a way, challenging to Jungkook... So what now?

Tonight they were buddies?

You begin to create possible reasons as to why they’re acting this way in your head. Perhaps its the drink in their hands and the multiple pre-drink shots in their stomachs. Perhaps it’s because everyone was here and they knew they had to be on their best behaviour.

Perhaps it’s because the two, in a way, have already lost.

Nevertheless, you take a breath in.

As you breathe in, you remind yourself that taking a break from the both of them has been an effective and practical decision so far. It’s been a little weird to live life so quietly. Even if it’s only been a few days, it’s been nice to be alone. Like, alone alone. No texts, no calls, no surprise show up’s at your door. Being alone isn’t as scary you initially thought it would be. Yet, your anxious feelings don’t fade away that quickly. Though you’re slowly but surely feeling more at peace, you know this won’t last forever. Soon enough, you three will have to have at it.

Until then, it is what it is.

Space. Time. Reflection.

“Aight, this is exactly why one of you guys should’ve picked her up!” Jimin stresses. You look down and don’t catch on. Is it the dress? “She goes out looking like this? You guys let ___ go out looking like this?!” Jimin then gestures at your figure before facing Jin and Jungkook.

“What is the big deal? She didn’t wanna be picked up. They just respected her decision of getting here by herself. Which, I think, is a good start. Baby steps, right?” Hoseok interjects, tugging you to sit down next to him. You smile and greet him.

“Hi, Hoseok. Thank you for coming home.”

Sure, you and Hoseok are okay now. You two have texted in the days between then and now, but there’s a part of your friendship that still feels like it’s recovering. That’s just life though, isn’t it? Sometimes we get hurt and we say sorry to one another. It doesn’t mean everything is okay tomorrow, but it’s better than yesterday.

“Hi, ___,” he smiles, opening his arms for you to crash into. “No more playing dumb?”

In his embrace, you laugh and shake your head. “Sorry for making you lose a few braincells while I find mine.” Your apology is unnecessary but nice to hear. Even if it’s a little unserious, he knows where your heart is.

“I have a surprise for you,” Hoseok nudges you as you pull away. He looks excited a insanely suspicious.

“What is it?” you wonder.

“You’ll see.”

You open your mouth but Jimin cuts you off before you can push your curiosity any further. Jimin huffs, articulating his following words. “No, shut up you two. Seriously? Everyone here is looking at ___! How could you two—”

“She can wear what she wants,” Jin interrupts Jimin. He says it slow and calm, it’s completely intimidating. It must’ve been even scarier to receive the comment and not just hear it. Jimin’s lips twitch, fully knowing he’s swimming in dangerous water.

Your eyes meet Jin’s. It’s sudden and no part of you felt ready for this. So, you stay still, practically holding your breath as his eyes trace your body. You feel the way he’s looking at you and how much it hurts to be looked at him like this and not be able to have him.

Yes, the break is good but holy shit.

Sometimes, you forget about the way Jin looks at you and how easy it feels to drop everything for him to stop looking at you the way he does. You want him to do something. Hold your hand, take you away from everyone, kiss you… You know him.

That glint.

That hunger.

That look.

You brush your thoughts off as the chills down your spine begin to calm. You can’t say you saw this next part coming though. Jin blinks away to Jungkook’s direction and nods at him politely. To which, Jungkook crosses his arms and checks you out too. Instead of feeling nervous, you shoot Jungkook a glare in response because he just ruined a moment between you and Jin. You open your mouth to—

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “What Jin said.”

Jimin almost spits out his drink. “W-what? Oh my god. Did I just hear that right? Did you two just agree on something—?”

Jin clears his throat, “Jimin, if you’re so hot and bothered with the way ___ looks then don’t look at her.” His warning sounds conflicting because he says it so sweetly. It’s the undertone that everyone can identify. Jin is maddened. “Actually, I am bothered. Don’t look at her.”

Jimin gulps. He closes his eyes and turns around, avoiding your direction.

Rashly, Jungkook downs his drink and clears his throat. It’s like the alcohol doesn’t burn his throat. It goes down like water and you can’t help but watch the way Jungkook wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Suddenly, you recall the way they felt against yours.

Fuck.

You shut your eyes, dismissing that thought. You open your eyes to Jungkook shoving his empty glass to Jimin’s chest. Jungkook catches the way you look at him. You look nervous—the kind like your heart was just racing.

It was.

Jungkook sends you a suggestive look. He’s playful about it and you hate how easy it is to read you. The way you flush is an easy tell.

You squint at him, poking your tongue out in return. Jungkook rolls his eyes before smirking. He winks. At least, you think he does. You aren’t too sure. It’s so fast you aren’t even completely sure if he just did that, yet with the way Jungkook lowers his gaze, you become sure.

“Doesn’t matter what she wears. I can fight.” Jungkook discloses, causing Jin to scoff and the rest of the boys to boo him.

As for you, you wonder why your heart hasn’t stopped racing.

Jin doesn’t like dancing.

Jungkook said he would catch up and dance with you later.

They insist you dance with Hoseok and Jimin or literally anyone else in the friend group but for them. Regardless of how much they like you, maybe there are some things you can’t convince them to do.

Honestly, it’s okay.

Dancing with them would’ve probably turned into a whole thing. This is for the best. At all costs, your goal for tonight is to make it through without any more misfortune. You figure this is an easy out. Spending less time with either one of them can save this night from foreseen disaster.

Jungkook and Jin stay at the lounge area, standing and watching over the floor. From time to time, they laugh and point at you and Hoseok dancing together. While they drink their scotch, they bond like the three of you aren’t walking on thin ice.

It’s not like you’re in the position to assume anything at this point. No way were you going to be nosy and ruin a good thing. However, it just feels so... Different. This is the first time in months—actually, ever—that you’ve seen the two get along.

What can you do?

What do you want to do?

Confront them and tell them this is weird? Isn’t this on you? Insisting on the break because you haven’t drawn a clear conclusion on how to keep both men in different ways? This is on you. This is the bed you made, therefore you must lay in it.

As the night goes on, the dance floor gets more and more packed. You were dancing with Hoseok for the most part while Taehyung and Jimin floated elsewhere. Nam Joon was taking a break, sitting down in the lounge area, chatting up some girl. From the sidelines, Jin and Jungkook are still watching over you. It feels weird—watching them get along. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this feeling. It’s almost frightening. You’ve thought about it multiple times and even mentioned it to Hoseok probably a million more times, but as much as it is alarming, it’s just as radiant.

It’s interesting.

“Wanna get out of here?” The stranger's voice interrupts your thoughts. It doesn’t belong to anyone you recognize.

As you turn to put the voice and face together, you see Hoseok practically being shoved away by two other men. While the main one, who you assume voice belongs to, smiles down at you. Immediately, you feel timid and confused. Why is Hoseok being pulled away from you? You can sense Hoseok’s blood instantly boil even as he’s parting ways from you.

You never doubted Hoseok in anything. Advice, his ability to be a food friend—yet, it shocks you how secretly strong he is. He pushes through the two men that block him and cut between you and the man towering over.

“Woah—those your friends, man?” Hosoek bites, pushing their hands off his body. “The fuck is your problem?”

You’ve never seen Hoseok get angry or cause trouble. Hell, this man is a saint. His friends growing up were probably angels and when he passes, he’ll probably become one as well. A horrible feeling kicks in when you notice Hoseok’s fists curled. He takes a step toward the taller guy.

“This your girl?” the man spits.

Hoseok hesitates and the man studies the way Hoseok does so. He laughs, drawing the conclusion himself.

“Not your girl, not your problem,” the stranger insits, smirking as he gestures his friends to dismiss Hoseok.

It happens so quick.

Before you know it, he takes a step toward you. In response, you take a step back. He’s a lot taller than you and it makes you realize just how small you are. It makes you feel so small and ultimately uncomfortable. “What’s your name—”

You scan for Hoseok. The two men have already pushed him away from arms reach again and it looks like Hoseok is starting an argument with them. He’s too far gone. You scan for Taehyung or Jimin.

No where to be seen.

Abruptly, you turn towards the direction of Jungkook and Jin.

Fuck.

They left their spot?

Shit.

You’re alone.

A lump in your throat starts to build up. You want to feel courageous and swiftly get away from here, but you think of nothing but for—

“I have a boyfriend,” you blurt.

Maybe you said that a little too fast because the man doesn’t buy it.

He offers you a half assed smile. It’s like he’s entertained by your distress. He pouts at you and it makes your stomach ache. It’s the sarcastic kind that only makes everything feel so much more uneasy. It’s like he’s tormenting you. In reality, you want to remind yourself that this is just a man that basks in preying on people’s fears. If you feed into them, he’ll have you just where he wants you.

You hate this predicament.

“That guy?” he points at Hoseok, who is struggling to get back to you. The crowd practically swallowed him. “Not him. Don’t lie to me.”

You gulp, taking your time to regulate your feelings. Yes, you’re overwhelmed and this is utterly uncomfortable, but you know you have to stick this one through. You may despise this moment, but you need to act bigger than it in order to get through it.

“Y-yeah, he is my friend. He’s not my boyfriend,” you clarify, as you attempt to back away. As you so do, you accidentally step on a pair of passing feet. You stumble and the man lunges forward, catching you. It’s not like you were going to fall entirely, but his catch was still of aid. You hate that it was. His hands are on your waist as the other wraps around your wrist. Your breath shakes as he takes the opportunity to close in on you.

“Careful with your excuses,” he advises. “Just say no and I’ll listen.”

“No,” you say sternly, finding your balance and getting back on your feet. Before you can turn around to walk away, he grabs your upper arm and pulls you towards him. He chuckles, his breath hot with heavy with alcohol.

“Pretty girl, my bad. Forgot to mention I’m not the listening type.” Before you know it, he lifts his hand to your face. You turn your cheek, not wanting to look at him. He brushes the strands of your hair that have fallen on your face. Tucking your hair to the side, he then gathers your hair and moves it back. With a clear view of your neck, he leans in to kiss it.

Before he can, you struggle in his arms.

“My boyfriend is watching,” you utter. “Get off me. Now.”

Cockily, he whimpers to your ear, “boo fucking hoo, bitch.”

You begin to sink in the struggling feeling. Yet, a part of you knew there was no way your friends were here and this would go any further. You hold it together a little more. “Last chance,” you repeat, this time with a firmer tone. “My boyfriend is watching. Get off me. Now. I’m not asking you a third time.”

With an unamused tone, he asks, “who? Show me and I might believe you.”

“Let go of me and I’ll show you.”

Perhaps because he’s drunk and you’re entertaining him, he listens. He lets you go and you take a breath in as you get on your feet. Now what? Push through everyone and hide in the bathroom? Scream so loud and make a scene that everyone on the dance floor can kick him out? Or do it? Make a fucking choice and get this bullshit over with.

Jungkook or Jin.

That’s it.

You scan the club once again with your fingers crossed. You shut your eyes for a moment, hoping that when you open them they’ll be either. You know Jungkook and Jin have left their original spot. You know that Hoseok is pushing through whoever to find you. You know Nam Joon must know about this somehow because he’s Nam Joon and Taehyung and Jimin, in their own way, will rescue you too.

You open your eyes and immediately feel relief.

The sight of Jin and Jungkook stomping their way over to you relieves your nerves. The weight of your fear and anxiety lighten with every step they take closer to you.

You don’t condone wrathful behaviour, therefore violence is out of the equation. But you can’t help but feel so much fucking happiness as you recognize their facial expressions. You’ve known the two long enough to be able to read them to an extent.

It’s too late.

It’s too late for this guy because the Jin and or Jungkook do not look pleased.

Jungkook’s fists are curled and Jin has never looked more than ready for anything in his life. Jungkook is pushing his tongue around his cheek, directing disgusted looks towards the man beside you. Jin’s eyes pierce through and it’s like the crowd you’ve been pushing and shoving through all night is clearing a way for them.

It’s then when you see it clearly. It’s not the extent of anger their that brings you to believing you’ll be okay.

It’s him.

It hits you.

This is the moment.

You blink and feel the need to rub your eyes.

In the midst of it all, Jin and Jungkook are still childish boys fighting over the pretty girl to pick between them and you do so. It happens so fast they almost trip over their own feet.

As the two approach you and the man, Jin and Jungkook’s heart continues to pound. Partly because of the adrenaline and anger as they watched you being hit on this entire time and partly because they knew what you were doing. They knew this was the typical “that’s my boyfriend,” play. Their anger fractures for a millisecond.

The man hisses, feeling impatient. “Cats got your tongue? Where’s your boyfriend, bitch—”

Before you can even stop yourself, you point toward the direction of Jin and Jungkook.

Jungkook or Jin.

You point towards their direction. The man bends his knees slightly and squints to see no one.

“Are you fucking with me?” he growls. “You were pointing at the two fucking guys—”

“She was pointing at me, you dumb fuck.”

Stepping out from behind Jin and Jungkook, he reveals himself.

It’s him.

He’s here.

He steps forward and the familiar voice brings you absolute security. You’re going to be okay. There’s nothing bad that could happen now. Focused on you and your boyfriend, Jin and Jungkook circle behind the man without being noticed.

Drunkenly, the man huffs. “You? You’re her boyfriend?”

You nod at the sight, heart racing as he exchanges a warm smile with you. He extends his hand and you take it. Standing by his side, you burry yourself into his embrace. He smells so good.

He smells like home.

“Yeah, fucker, I am. What the fuck were you doing touching her like that?”

Just as the stranger is about to put up a fight, a hand taps him on the shoulder. Sluggishly turning the stranger is met with a punch to the face. It’s a big hit. The kind where you watch his face turn and you wouldn’t be surprised if he would be missing a tooth or two. Falling on the floor, you gasp as Jin is revealed to be standing there.

Jin is the one that threw the punch?

Jungkook laughs, congratulating Jin. “Nice hit,” Jungkook then before he bends over the man lying on the floor. he picks him up by the collar of his shirt and shakes him.

“Don’t ever fucking touch anyone like that ever again,” Jungkook says flatly, “because I’ll kill you next time.”

Jin rolls his eyes and grabs Jungkook by the back of his shirt. Jin pulls Jungkook back up and swears, “he’s not fucking worth it.”

“Says you,” Jungkook remarks, smacking Jin’s soon to be bruised knuckles. Jin flinches and hisses at the initiating pain.

In the blur of the moment, perhaps it was the adrenaline; you feel ecstatic. The two look like brothers when they get along. You think to yourself, maybe it’s not that peculiar after all...

You see security guards come in and take the man on the floor away. Jin and Jungkook talk to the security guards before directing them to Hoseok. Hoseok leads the way, pointing out the other guys that were acquainted with the man hitting on you. Jimin, Taehyung, and Nam Joon follow along.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you admit, processing it all. “Thanks, boyfriend.”

He pats your head, his gaze softening as he leans in and teases, “whatever you say, my love.”

He offers you a shy smile and you can’t help but get watery eyes. You’re so thankful. You’re so heartbroken at the same time. Seeing him again after all these years; you never expected to feel this way. It’s a relief to see him. It makes your heart feel heavy as you notice how his hair grew, how his style changed, but the way he looks at you hasn’t.

You know it in your heart it hasn’t as Yoongi, your first love, reaches for your hand and kisses it.

You’re sitting in the lounge with Jungkook. He’s listening to you give your perspective on what happened. He’s tucking your hair behind your ear and leaning closer and closer every time you pause and look at him with wide eyes. Jin knows you aren’t flirting. He knows you’re used to going to Jungkook for comfort and given the events of tonight, you’re right to.

Jin watches you two, completely unaware of Yoongi approaching him.

“Looks like it’s swelling already,” Yoongi offers an ice pack and another drink with his other hand. Jin thanks him, taking the ice pack and placing it on his knuckles.

“I don’t know how Jungkook fights all the time,” Jin confesses. “I get that he boxes and shit but this is gonna be annoying to deal with as it heals.”

“She’s worth it,” Yoongi comments. “The fights. The heartache.. I think she is.”

Yoongi’s words catch Jin off guard. He clears his throat and pulls his attention away from you and Jungkook to Yoongi. Jin leans on the ramp and looks at his hand.

He knows Yoongi is right.

It aches though.

It ached when you thanked the two and immediately lectured Jin about hitting people. How you congratulated Jungkook for using his words like you were a preschool teacher dealing with children. It ached when you took Jungkook’s hand and let him guide you out of the crowd and to the lounge. Where you two have been sitting together for the past fifteen minutes, talking and simply being together. Shouldn’t that be him? He was the one to throw the punch.

Jin isn’t even sure how it ended up being him that threw the punch. Jungkook was more than ready and willing to do so. It was more of an in the moment thing anyway.

“... So it’s nice to meet you. I’m Yoongi,” he says. “___’s ex... And you are?”

Jin’s thoughts halt. He awkwardly laughs and nods his head, apologizing for being so disoriented. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jin. ___’s something.” Jin extend his good hand for Yoongi to shake. Yoongi shakes it, chuckling at Jin’s introduction. Jin takes that as a hint.

“So you know..”

Yoongi nudges Jin to scoot over. Jin does so. Standing side by side, they both watch you and Jungkook continue to bond. Like little kids, you two laugh and tease each other. Yoongi sighs, “Hoseok updates me every now and then. I usually don’t like talking about my ex on a daily bases so I try not to know too much.”

Jin snickers in response. “So, you’re not up to date then?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Should I be? Feels a little like high school drama. Couldn’t stand that shit when I was high school, what makes you think I’d care about it now?”

“Because it’s about ___.”

“I digress,” Yoongi chuckles, cheersing Jin. Together, they both take a sip.

In the silence, Jin can’t help but feel like his whole heart is sinking. He wonders if Yoongi feels the same in regards to how Jungkook and you are like together. He recalls asking Jungkook what Yoongi and you were like and having that conversation last less than a minute. Jin decides to bite.

“Why’d you two break up?” Jin almost strutters, afraid he’s crossing a line. It’s unknown territory. He’s unfamiliar with Yoongi.

“Ah,” Yoongi gives in. “Work was—”

“I know about work,” Jin implies. “I don’t know about you and ___.”

Yoongi pauses, smirking at Jin’s cleverness. He likes that’s straight to the point. Immediately feeling like this must have been an aftermath to your circus of disaster. It’s then that Yoongi has a quick realization of how much you’ve changed without him by your side and in contrast how much you’ve stayed the same. “She didn’t want me enough.”

“Lies,” Jin claims. “If it’s not Jungkook or I, it’s you.”

With that, Yoongi shrugs in response. “Then it’s either you or Jungkook. If she wanted me, she would’ve kept me.”

Both men hold each other’s gaze, not knowing what to say next. Ultimately, Jin drops it and turns back to you and Jungkook.

The conversation grows cold.

Jin begins to wonder what interest you had in Yoongi back then if he can hardly hold a conversation now. It’s a little funny because Yoongi seems to be quite the opposite of what he was expecting. Sure, he knew Yoongi was going to be the quiet type and a little mysterious, but Jin never registered the possibility of Yoongi being hard to read.

“Childish for me to ask, but whose side are you on?” Jin confides in Yoongi, breaking the silence. “You know enough—you must.”

Jin couldn’t help himself. Something about Yoongi felt so easy. Like you could tell him anything and everything you say is kept safe.

He wonders if Yoongi’s opinion would do anything.

If Yoongi’s opinion would shift the way he sees Jungkook and if after hearing it, it would be easier for him to understand. Understand anything. Jin has been nothing but confused and hurt by you over and over again. Which, is ironic. Ever since he came into your life, that’s all he’s done to you as well.

Yet, he can’t help but wonder why it doesn’t feel like you two are going in circles. Though the challenges feel repetitive, the actions and growth beneath it all are not. Each choice, each step forward together has ultimately changed the way he continues to love you.

“Hers.”

Jin acknowledges Yoongi’s answer yet decides to push it. “But—”

“The most difficult lesson I had to learn is that not everything you love is meant for you. I’ve made my peace with ___. I don’t think you should.”

“What does that even mean?” Jin laughs as he takes a sip of his drink. Of course he understands what Yoongi means.

You.

He’s siding with you and your choice. Whoever you choose is his choice because whoever you choose must be the one that makes you happiest. That realization stings and spears into Jin’s heart as he watches you laugh, throwing you head back and enjoying your time with Jungkook. He can’t help but keep noting: you look happy with Jungkook.

Do you smile like that when he’s around you?

Yoongi inhales sharply, tilting his head at Jin. Jin feels Yoongi’s gaze and turns to him. Offers a weak smile, he looks at Yoongi with pleading eyes.

“Tell me something,” Jin begs, voice on the verge of cracking. Maybe he’s had too much to drink. “Tell me anything.”

Yoongi’s eyes shift towards your direction and his gaze softens. He downs the rest of his drink and goes through a quick dilemma in his head. How much should he share? He knew he would bump into Jin and have a conversation along these lines... But he didn’t expect it to be so out in the open. In a way, Jin surprises Yoongi.

“She loves Jungkook—there’s no denying that. She always has and always will. Hell, even I can’t compete with him. I had and have no interest either… I think that Jungkook does well in tending to her needs in every way possible and by doing so, it heals the brokenness in him too. He’s always felt out of place and ___ has always been the person to make him feel needed,” Yoongi pauses and thinks for a moment. “...Like he belonged to her—which, some may argue but I beg to differ; I think it’s fair. They went through so much together. It would be a ridiculous expectation to have them move on from one another just because she fell in love with someone else.”

Yoongi wasn’t talking about Jin.

He was talking about himself and the short comings he felt towards you when he was your boyfriend. Though Jungkook wasn’t around for majority of it, he well understood the difference when Jungkook was.

“Jungkook mended a heart he didn’t break. He hurts for her, he fumes for her, he loves for her and don’t get me wrong; I think they’re a great team. Jungkook protects her like she’s his entire heart and ___ has a way with him no one else does. At one point, a little before ___ and I broke up, I asked them individually if they ever had feelings for each other. Jungkook confessed to me and begged for forgiveness as if if was a sin to love someone. ___ shook her head and smiled politely at me saying she loves me. I told her, “that’s not what I’m asking. Answer properly,” and then she did.”

Jin’s ears turn red. “Well, what did she say?”

“She said I’m her first love. Jungkook is her greatest.”

“What does that mean?”

“Figure it out,” Yoongi teases Jin. Jin shoots Yoongi a glare and groans stressfully. It amuses Yoongi. “I’m just fucking with you, Jin! Lighten up! God, you’re so tense.”

Yoongi puts his hands up in surrender as Jin listens and tries to relax. He can’t help it! It feels like he’s losing you and like he’s never really known you at all. Everything he learns about you is simply an extension of Jungkook. He isn’t sure how he can process that.

Jin once promised you the stars but it feels like he’s the fallen.

“As childish and cliché as it sounds, it’s means you’re her true love. Regardless of how honest and pure her love is for Jungkook and I—we both lack something. A part of ___ never fully gave in and neither one of us have her entirely. Considering the way she’s been stealing glances all night, how she pretended not to care for your hurt hand—even avoided being the one to get you ice.. And not to mention the fact that she has mustered up so much strength and courage to refrain from crying and calling me up about you when she was having a hard time… Yeah, pretty sure she loves you. Sure, love is timing and chemistry, but what it orbits around is choice.”

“She chooses Jungkook a lot though,” Jin croaks, partly disregarding everything Yoongi had said. Yoongi’s mouth drops open, unable to comprehend how sensitive Jin was acting. He must really care for you. “I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t know how to draw boundaries or keep Jungkook in our lives if he continues to act the way he does. She always goes back to him regardless of how much of myself I offer.”

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once... I mean, who would she be if she just woke up one day and didn’t need Jungkook?”

Jin nods along, taking everything Yoongi says in.

“Think of it this way: Jungkook and ___ are opposite ends of the same string...” Yoongi nods along to his own words, confident and ever so insightful. “___ and Jungkook both hate losing. They’re competitive and impulsive in the same sense they’re anxious and let life pass them by. To be completely honest with you, they’re soulmates but they’re not lovers. At least, not in this life. As much as Jungkook tries to convince you they are; I will convince you otherwise. Plus, maybe you’d know that if you stopped focusing on Jungkook and started paying more attention with the way she chooses you—”

“Yeah, but—”

“Dude, she broke up with me.”

“What?” Jin’s eyes almost fall out of his head. “Everyone says it was you—”

“Well, she didn’t break up with me break up with me,” Yoongi quotes. “I did that. I dumped her… But she’s the one that told me to go. I would’ve stayed if she asked me to but she never did. Fuck, I would’ve married her if she wanted me to. That’s why I asked her and Jungkook if they had feelings for one another. That’s also when I realized something important...”

“Realize what?”

“What do you think you are to her? A practice round?” Yoongi returns Jin’s question with his own. “If Jungkook has always been her safe space and I’m her past, what do you think you are to her? She tries with you. Sad attempts but she does try. I can’t and don’t want to speak for her or for her feelings, but I’ve known her long enough to understand the way she handles things. I’ve never seen her so eager to grow when it comes to you.”

Jin freezes. He’s never really thought about that.

“Paraluman,” Yoongi beings, “it means muse. Have you noticed that everything you and ___ go through, good and bad, have brought you two make better decisions for yourself and each other? She has a tendency to wish for parts of Jungkook to change. With Jungkook, she shifts back to this dependent and catered princess. Whereas for you.. She’s loved every part of you since the moment she laid her eyes on you and has constantly been finding ways to better your lives together. Even if she had moments where she fucked up, which I’m sure she has; she is choosing to change.”

“She has changed a lot.” Jin agrees.

“I think you have too. You must have,” Yoongi guesses. “And for what it’s worth, I think it’s you. You’re her muse.”

Jin is lost for words. What is he supposed to say? In a way, this conversation brought clarity but in others... Jin is more than confused.

“What if it’s not ___ and I in the end? W-what if it’s not.. What if it’s not me?” Jin stutters, hating each word that came out of his mouth. “Every day I try to convince myself that she’s not the love of my life… But she is. She proves that over and over again just by being her… How am I supposed to get over this? How did you get over her? Because I don’t think I can do it.”

Yoongi doesn’t know how to answer Jin. He isn’t sure if Jin is genuinely insecure even after all the encouraging words Yoongi exchanged with him or if Jin has plans on forfeiting. Yoongi decides to be honest. What does he have to lose?

Yoongi has already lost you.

“I didn’t.”

As the night comes to an end, everyone is outside waiting for their Ubers. Jungkook and Jin are inside paying the bill. Taehyung and Jimin burst through the exit and light a joint. You cringe at the sight, hating the smell. Meanwhile, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Nam Joon will be staying at your place for a couple of days and you’re all waiting for your Uber.

It’s never been like this. It’s always been Hoseok and Nam Joon coming to visit. Yoongi never comes with.

You don’t know if it’s your drunken thoughts or the way Yoongi just naturally captivates you, but your words spill out of your mouth faster than you can stop them.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too—“

“I’m happy you’re here, but… Yoongi, w-why are you here? You never come back.”

Yoongi pouts shaking his head at you, “you know why, ___.”

“N-no—” you refuse. “I don’t know why.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Is it—“

He nods.

“Are y-you.. How did you find out?”

The guilt sobers you up. You wish you didn’t know what he was talking about. Yoongi takes a hold of your forearm as you stumble towards him. You find balance and when you do, it’s useless as Yoongi’s words make you dizzy all over again.

“You won’t listen to them, so I need to you to listen to me. My love, you have to make a decision. Do you think you can hide this forever? They’re going to find out. ___, you can’t keep this from Jungkook or Jin anymore.”

The choice becomes bitter in your mouth. The same way it’s Jungkook or Jin, it’s leave or stay.

#bts angst #bts fanfic #bts party #bts smau #jin x yn #jin x reader #jin x oc #jin scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #yoongi angst #yoongi scenario #yoongi fic #jin fwb #yoongi exes au #jungkook f2l

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rainy-bangbeom · 2 years

Text

The BFB - Part One (m)

“May I introduce ‘The Best Friends with Benefits’ contract, or The BFB for short…”

“The BFB? You’re kidding me, right?…”

“Nah, baby—I’m dead FUCKING serious… get it?”

pairing(s): Fuckboy!Minho x Best Friend!Fem!Reader

genre: Best Friends to FWBs!AU, College!AU, slight Angst, Smut

warnings: Mature language, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, heavy talks of sex and other lewd subjects, explicit and graphic sexual content (18+), protected sex (please remember to always practice safe and protected sex), riding, LOTS of teasing (Minhoe’s speciality everyone), slight power dynamics, dry humping, nicknames (kitten, baby), dirty talk, very slight degradation (R is called a slut once), slight marking, both R and Min are pretty desperate ngl

word count: 6,6k

synopsis: You and Minho have been best friends since the moment you were practically born but when a party gone wrong ends with an arrangement that complicates the boundaries of friendship, you have to decide whether your relationship is merely one of friends or something more.

previous // next

From the moment you stepped foot on your college campus, you’ve only ever had two goals in mind. First—graduate (obviously), and second—sleep with the hottest, sexiest, most delicious hunk of man to ever graze the earth: Seo Changbin. Now fortunately, you’re on the brink of entering your last semester before commencement, so you have to be doing something right there. But as for banging the yummy quarterback who pretty much everyone with eyes is convinced is half-god… no such luck in that department.

It’s not as if you haven’t tried. You’ve spoken to Changbin a total of three times in the last four years—THREE WHOLE TIMES! The first instance happened in your digital imaging course during the first semester of your sophomore year. You sat a row behind him, and though your final grade probably suffered because of the fact, you spent many delightful lectures admiring the glorious sight of the back of his neck. One day before your professor arrived, Changbin turned around to ask if he could borrow a pencil, which, of course, you acquiesced. He never returned it, but it’s still a step in the right direction.

Your second and third meetings occurred under similar circumstances. During sociology in your junior year, he asked to borrow your textbook to jot down some notes, and you spent the remainder of the time wondering if it’s possible to clone a person with fingerprints and dead skin cells alone. And only a couple months later, you were paired in the same class to work on some boring discussion questions together. Mind you, Changbin wasn’t exactly a hands-on partner—pretty much utilizing the entire period to converse with a couple of sorority sisters—but hey, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to Mr. Yummy-bin.

“Please tell me you don’t actually refer to Changbin as Mr. Yummy-bin…” You return to reality at Seungmin’s voice, turning just in time to watch your roommate undergo a series of overdramatic gags.

You roll your eyes. “Says the guy who calls his boyfriend Hung-jin.”

“Can’t help my man’s got a big dick.” He shrugs, inhaling another big bite of his sandwich before sending you a pointed glance. “You know, I’m all for women empowerment and spreading those pussy juices because fuck the whole societal hoax of female purity and shit… but are you sure you want to sleep with Changbin of all people? I mean, the guy’s more of a fuckboy than Minho, and that’s saying something.”

“Half the girls in this school all claim they’ve sucked their star quarterback off behind the bleachers at opening game. Just because someone says it, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N)—wouldn’t you rather go for the linebacker, Chan?” Seungmin offers. “He’s no quarterback, but I heard from a reliable source his arms aren’t the only part of his body that’s the size of a tank…”

Similar to Changbin, you’ve only spoken to Chan a handful of times. He seems like a nice guy, and he’s attractive as all hell, but the thought of fucking him just doesn’t click right—and nothing against Chan, but your va-jay-jay doesn’t get as excited at the thought of his head between your thighs.

“If I’m spreading my pussy juices to anyone, it’s gonna be Mr. Yummy-bin.”

Seungmin groans once again, but makes no further attempt to dissuade your decision. He instead retires to the remainder of his lunch, allowing you to do the same.

You and Seungmin met in your history of photography class back in freshman year. For the first few months, you two had a little frenemies feud going on since you were dating his current boyfriend, Hyunjin at the time. The relationship barely lasted two weeks, especially so when you found out Hyunjin was only using you as a cover to hide his true sexuality from his family, but you, along with Seungmin, have remained good friends throughout your college years, going as far as renting a nice apartment just outside campus before the start of junior year. Sure, you have to flee to Minho's dorm when the love birds decide to get a little freaky, but it beats living in a shoebox.

Speaking of the devil, you notice the devil himself sprinting toward your and Seungmin’s table. Judging by his direction and the stack of books in his arms, he likely came straight from his classic literature class, which, if you know your best friend (and you definitely do), indicates he has some piping hot tea to spill.

“Yeonjun’s hosting an exclusive holiday party this Friday night at the fraternity house.” Minho struggles through puffs and pants, practically throwing his Austen collection into your ketchup while lowering into the seat beside you. “Apparently he paid campus security to look the other way for the night, so everyone’s gonna get absolutely shit-faced… we’re going, right?”

“Hard pass,” Seungmin grumbles with an expression of disgust. “The last time I went to a frat party, someone slipped something into my drink and I woke up on the roof completely naked and covered in honey and feathers.”

Minho shrugs before turning to you with pleading, hopeful eyes.

You raise an eyebrow. “Even if I say no, you’re still gonna go anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to know my best friend has my back if I accidentally knock myself out while playing pool.”

“You act as if that never happened before?” Your head throbs at the memory of Minho clubbing himself over the head with a pool cue during Halloween of sophomore year. With the help of one of his friends, Jisung, you managed to transport him back to his building only to find out the idiot had bet his dorm key in a game of strip poker. Therefore, you, by yourself, had to haul Minho to your own dorm as inconspicuously as possible, which is not easy considering your best friend has a tendency to belt out ‘Into the Unknown’ when under the influence.

“Pretty, pretty please?” You groan at the pout that adorns Minho’s face, cursing the universe for blessing the man with a pair of puppy dog eyes that can move a Buddhist monk.

“Fine.” Minho immediately cheers in celebration when the answer leaves your lips. “On the condition you avoid any dumb injuries. I really do not want to be driving your ass to the hospital at one in the morning.”

“Swear on my life I’ll be a saint,” he promises, wrapping his pinky around your already outstretched one. To prove his commitment, Minho goes the extra step to lift your conjoined hands to his lips and press a brief peck to your knuckles. “Besides, this gives you a perfect opportunity to jump Mr. Yummy-bin’s bones.”

“Holy shit—you’re so right,” you gasp, already beginning to ponder your look for this Friday. “Should I go for slutty with some class? Or just full-on hooker?”

After swallowing the remainder of his sandwich, Seungmin shakes his head. “I have nothing to say in this matter.”

“Wear that black lace off-the-shoulder dress and heels,” Minho says. “You can thank me after you get the best fuck of your life.”

For once, you can’t help but be grateful for Minho’s barely functioning brain, already anticipating the party, and getting dicked down by the one and only Seo Changbin.

There’s a saying that if a friendship lasts more than seven years, it will last a lifetime—if that’s true, then you and Lee Minho are in this shit for a millennium.

Your moms were best friends throughout college and moved within a two-minute walking distance of each other after graduation, so your fates were pretty much set in stone the moment you entered this earthly plane. You’ve seen each other through it all—diapers and onesies three sizes too big, training bras and bad acne, that one goth identity crisis both of you agreed to erase from your brains—so it only makes sense you two became as close as two souls sworn to secrecy can be.

Of course, at times Minho can be a little shit, and you want nothing more than to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine, but you’d take a bullet for him in a heartbeat, and while Minho may not be the cuddliest person on the plant, you know he wouldn’t hesitate to suck someone’s dick just to keep you safe (true story, don’t ask…).

With a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours, you and Minho have also undergone your fair share of firsts together. After taking a baseball straight to the face, he was there to admire your first lost baby tooth in all its bloody glory, and you, in turn, were there to carry him, with his knee facing the total opposite direction, to the nurse’s office after a nice spill off of the playground jungle gym. He’s been there to console you through failed tests, brutal break-ups, and everything in between…

Minho’s really been there through it all.

You move your attention away from nostalgic thoughts, instead focusing on the shamelessly flirting pair in the front seat of the car. After much convincing (more so threatening) from your end, you managed to persuade Seungmin to attend the party with his boyfriend. Though right now, you don’t know whether to feel disgusted by their shamelessness, elated at their romantic antics, or fearful for your life, seeing as Hyunjin has not looked at the road once in the past two minutes.

“I swear, if we die just because you fuckers can’t go one second without making goo-goo eyes at each other…” Like always, Minho seems to take the words right from your mind, glaring at your partnered companions with a glare sharp enough to cut ice.

“I mean, can you really blame me?” Seungmin hums, feeling up Hyunjin’s bare arm for the millionth time in the past hour. “If you guys weren’t here, I’d be rolling all over that backseat by now.”

“Let’s not share everything with the class now,” you hurriedly intercept. “Hyunjin—can you at least try not to kill your friends before we reach the party? I’d like to actually suck Changbin’s dick in this lifetime and not as Casper the ghost.”

“I’d totally watch that shit—I wonder if there’s such thing as ghost porn…?”

A noise of protest emerges from Seungmin before he lurches forward to turn up the radio, effectively drowning out Minho’s curiosity toward supernatural kinks. Being his seatmate, you’re not so lucky to avoid his research on vampires and period sex. Fortunately, Hyunjin maintains a somewhat steady speed limit and manages to reach the party in record timing.

You practically throw yourself out of the vehicle before your best friend can go more in-depth about werewolf mating. Seungmin is quick to follow, along with Hyunjin, and finally, Minho.

Unsurprisingly, the fraternity house is abuzz with celebration. Muffled club music seeps past its walls, the heavy bass and percussion ricocheting through your bones like a tidal wave. Countless people line the lawn, which is already littered with enough plastic cups and beer cans to fill a convenience store, while crowd after crowd continues to pile past the front door. You can almost feel the heat radiating from inside bleeding into your skin.

“Alright, everyone remember the rules? If you go home with someone tonight, you have to text the group chat.” Seungmin shoots a pointed glare at Minho. “And that doesn’t mean sending any explicit pictures of your nasty ass penis in some chick’s mouth, understand?”

Minho pouts. “We all make mistakes in the heat of passion, Jimbo.”

“Just make good decisions—or at least ones that keep you out of jail and STD-free.” You nod when he glances in your direction, silently promising to protect your safety above all else. Satisfied with your response, you watch Seungmin take his boyfriend’s hand and lead him toward the bustling house—no doubt in pursuit of an empty bedroom to finish what was started in the car.

“So… when do you want to commence operation Bang Mr. Yummy-bin?”

“After I get a couple shots in my system,” you respond, already dragging your best friend in the direction of the front door. Despite the excitement coursing through your veins, you can’t help but notice the butterflies violently fluttering in your stomach. You pause in front of a couple grinding against the entryway, debating whether or not to kick off your four-inch heels and run for the hills. Minho must sense your distress, reaching forward to comfortingly pat your shoulder.

“Hey, you got this,” he hums. “Not only do you look hot as fuck, but Changbin’s a lucky dude—I’ve seen what that mouth do.”

“Does your vocabulary consist of anything besides the urban dictionary?”

He smirks. “I’ve known to dabble in my fair share of overly creepy pick-up lines from time to time.”

You sigh in annoyance, bumping your shoulder against Minho’s chest.

“I’m serious... What if I make a complete and total fool of myself?”

“Then you make a complete and total fool of yourself.” He shrugs. “But if Changbin’s head is too far up his own ass to not see past that, then he’s missing out on the best moment of his life with a drop-dead gorgeous woman who’s way out of his league.”

Your heart warms at your best friend’s reassurance.

“Thanks, Min. I really appreciate that.”

“Yeah, yeah—now c’mon.” You barely have a chance to catch your balance before Minho is yanking you toward the house, nearly avoiding falling face-first into the dirt. “Let’s get you buzzed for the best dicking down of your life—by the way, if you see Ryujin around, proceed to avoid like the plague.”

“Let me guess—a one-hit-wonder?”

Minho smiles. “(Y/N) (L/N), you know me so well.”

True to his word, Minho shoved three shots of tequila and a cup of jungle juice down your throat before scampering off to, as he put it, make his rounds—but you know well enough that he’s probably making out with some random freshman he fished from the crowd. And while you can normally care less about your best friend’s promiscuous escapades, it pisses you off that the fucker is probably getting more action than you are right now.

For the last two hours, you’ve been looking for a moment to steal Changbin’s attention, but it’s as if the universe doesn’t want you to get lucky tonight. When he’s not surrounded by a myriad of desperate cheerleaders, he’s conversing with one of his teammates or chatting up some chick with tits the size of watermelons. It’s like revolving doors in a nightclub—except its VIP membership only to get a piece of Mr. Yummy-bin.

After the eleventh girl, you finally threw in the towel and retreated to the safety of the kitchen. Mind you, it reeks of pot and cheap alcohol, but it’s much better than watching some blonde bimbo rubbing her ass all over Changbin’s dick. You sigh as you pour yourself another serving of jungle juice, hoping to drown away your sorrows of going another night high and dry. Just as you’re about to commence your pity party, some asshole collides into you from behind and spills your drink all over the front of your dress.

“You mother fu—Ch-Changbin!?” Your intentions of giving the culprit a piece of your mind totally vanish when you discover the same man you’ve been attempting to converse with since the first day of freshman year. His lightly tanned skin is shiny and tinted pink from sweat and alcohol and his jet black hair is a tousled mess, but his biceps are bare, big, and proud in the sleeveless white tee that leaves nothing safe from your greedy eyes.

“Oh hey, it’s… (Y/N), right?” You almost forget how to breathe when he slurs out your name, needing to grab the counter behind you to avoid collapsing to the floor in a heap. “We were partners once in chemistry?”

“Sociology, actually,” you correct with the largest grin, totally forgetting about your now drenched, alcohol-reeking dress.

“Ah right. They all just kind of blend together after a while.” He chuckles, swiping a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead. “Anyway, how come you’re hiding out in here? Not enjoying the party or something?”

“What? Oh no—nothing like that,” you quickly deny his observation with an awkward laugh. “Actually, I’ve been looking for an opportunity to talk to you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

You hum, “Well, I find you very, very attractive, and I was just wondering if you’d like to—”

“Binnie! There you are!”

You watch in horror as a girl from your world history class pops out from literally nowhere and tackles Changbin in a heated liplock that’s more tongue than anything. After a good thirty seconds of swapping saliva, she retreats backward to pout childishly. “It’s not nice to keep a girl waiting, you know?”

“Sorry, babe. Got distracted.” Changbin smirks before leaning down to nibble at her collarbone. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

And just like that, the couple begin to make out right there against the refrigerator, leaving you forgotten—again. Not wanting to put yourself through anymore torture, you grab the nearest unopened bottle of vodka and make a mad dash for the upstairs, praying you’ll find a room free of anymore horny bitches trying to suck each other’s faces off—or worse.

Fortunately, after multiple traumatic attempts, you managed to snag an unoccupied bedroom to freely drown your sorrows. Unfortunately, the vodka you grabbed was severely watered down, so the alcohol contributed minimal cessation to the hurricane of insecure thoughts raging through your brain. You had various debates with yourself about just calling an Uber and sulking underneath the covers of your own bed for the rest of the night, but the possibility of spotting Changbin and his lady friend getting it on against the front door is enough to confine you to the springy mattress.

You begrudgingly take another useless swing before leaning back into the messy mountain of sandpaper sheets and crusty pillows. You try not to think about the previous activities committed on this bed, instead focusing on the vibrations coursing through your limbs—courtesy of the music blaring from downstairs. If you were anywhere else, you might actually find the sensation pleasurable, but it only serves as a reminder of your pathetic, lonely state.

The shuffling of nearby footsteps and obnoxious giggles tears you from your pitiful headspace. Before you can announce your presence to the obviously oblivious couple, the door bursts open, revealing none other than your best friend practically chomping the neck of some sophomore from your nature photography class. You roll your eyes as the pair fail to notice your presence, tossing your now half-filled bottle onto a nightstand with a dramatic huff.

“Careful, Min, or there’ll be none of her left to shove your dick into.”

Minho pulls away from his nightly catch with wide-eyes, gaping at your lounging position. His expression shifts from confusion, to concern, before finally settling on what seems to reflect annoyance.

“Please tell me you’re in here because you’re recovering from Mr. Yummy-Bin’s monster cock—or I swear to god I will beat your ass.”

You nod to your abandoned vodka. “Take a wild guess.”

“What happened to the plan? Get in, get buzzed, and then get fucked?”

“Yeah, well, apparently other people also had the same plan,” you grumble, “I was just one of the unlucky few who isn’t blonde, busty, or bootylicious.”

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “For fucksake (Y/N)...”

“I’m sorry to interrupt—but who the fuck is she and why is her pathetic meltdown interrupting my opportunity of getting laid!?” Minho’s companion whines, her high-pitched tone only increasing the pounding of your head.

You roll your eyes. “You always know how to pick the bitchiest out of the bunch, Min.”

“Excuse me!? Who the fuck do you think you are, you ugly slut!?”

“She’s my best friend—a bit dramatic, but hardly ugly or a slut.” Minho wrenches away from her with a sneer, nodding his head toward the door. “You, however, are as revolting as they come so get lost before I contract whatever parasite crawled up your ass.”

“Fuck you, Lee Minho! And fuck you too whatever your name is! I’m out of here!”

You watch in both amusement and disgust as Minho practically slams the door after the delightful sophomore stomps away, probably to resume her quest for copulation elsewhere.

“You didn’t have to be so mean, you know,” you hum, ignoring your best friend’s glare and leaning further back into the pillows.

He shakes his head. “Nobody talks to you like that, and don’t try to change the subject. What really happened tonight? No more bullshit excuses either.”

“Long story short, I had him in my sights and we were having a lovely conversation until some girl with pretty brown eyes and enough ass to cover the continent of Antarctica sunk her teeth into him first—literally.” You shiver at the vulgar memory, breathing what has to be your millionth sigh of the night. “Regardless, he barely even looked at me, Min. I think it’s a lost cause… I’m nothing compared to those girls—”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Minho hurriedly disagrees, laying a comforting hand atop your knee. “Like I said earlier, Changbin’s an idiot for choosing a bunch of losers over the most amazing woman he’ll ever meet. Don’t break yourself down over some asshole who can’t think without his dick.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that kind of hypocritical considering just two minutes ago you were swapping saliva with some stranger whose name you don’t know?”

“What the—please tell me that’s not the only thing you took from what I just said?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore anyway,” you say, reluctantly rising from the bed to head for the door—more than ready to retire to the comforts of your own apartment. “I’ve accepted the fact that the hottest man in existence will never want to fuck me, so why bother dwelling on it any longer?”

“(Y/N), come on—”

“Just leave it alone, Minho. I’m going home where I’ll give myself yet another lackluster orgasm with a four-year old vibrator that can’t even reach—”

With your hand mere centimeters away from the doorknob, your desired escape is interrupted when you’re suddenly spun around and practically shoved against the door. A warm hand silences your rant by covering your mouth, belonging to none other than your less-than-amused best friend.

“Will you please shut the fuck up for a goddamn second? I’m trying to play my role of the supportive friend, but you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

You make sure to mouth a deserving insult against his palm, earning a sigh and an eye roll combination from your captor. After another minute or two, you start to notice exactly how close your bodies are—you can almost feel his hips pressing against your own—and while you’re not unused to Minho’s touch, something about this particular position sparks a marathon of butterflies to flutter through your stomach.

Minho finally removes his hand after another long period of silence, laying his palm against the door beside your head. “Look—I’m sorry tonight didn’t go as planned, but have you ever considered the fact that this stupid obsession is hindering other opportunities for you to let loose and have fun?”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you hiss.

“All I’m saying is I think you need to get laid by someone who is not necessarily Changbin—I mean, think about it, when was the last time you actually had sex? And don’t say that date with Felix because you and I both know heavy petting doesn’t cut it,” he huffs sternly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Why do you suddenly care so much about my sex life?”

“Because I’m fucking sick and tired of seeing you mope around like some lovesick teenager! You need to get over Changbin, and I’m prepared to offer a solution…”

“Which is…?”

Complete disbelief spills through your body as Minho points between you and him.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

He shakes his head. “Why not? You’re going through a dry spell, I’m always horny—it’s the perfect answer to both of our problems.”

“Did it completely slip your brain that you and I have been friends since—I don’t know—our entire fucking lives!” Your panicked, borderline aggressive tone does little to curb the serious expression across your companion’s face, only further increasing the strange feeling in your stomach. “We can’t just… sleep together! It totally goes past all and any boundaries of friendship—!”

“But you and I are best friends, so it’s completely different,” Minho argues. “As your best friend, it’s my sole responsibility to help you through the hardest times in life, therefore, I’m more than ready to help you move past your crush by offering forth my exceptional services in all things ‘holey’.”

“For the sake of my sanity, please never say that ever again,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “While I appreciate your willingness to help, I still don’t think this is a good idea… especially after what happened last time—”

“(Y/N)”—your muscles tense when Minho suddenly moves closer, nudging one of his thick thighs between your legs while intensely staring into your eyes—“are you attracted to me?”

“Well… yeah, I guess so.”

His dark smirk sends tremors through your knees. “Good, ‘cause I think you're hot—and you wanna know a secret…?” You hold your breath as he leers closer, allowing you to better see the firework show of lust flickering through his umber eyes. “I wanna fuck you right here against this door and listen to your pretty little whimpers and whines, knowing anyone at any second could walk by and hear what a good little slut you are for my cock…”

Holy shit.

The wave of wetness that pools between your thighs immediately soaks your underwear. It takes every bit of your lingering self control to not hump your best friend’s thigh like a horny rabbit. Even so, you find it more and more difficult to repress your dirty desires as Minho trails a hand up your leg, pausing to lift and wrap your knee around his hips. You nearly moan at the new position, pinpointing what seems to be his prominent erection pushing against your pelvis.

“Minho…”

“Just think about it,” he murmurs. “Changbin could walk through here at any given moment—I bet the second he heard you call my name, he’d realize what a brainless idiot he was for passing up this sweet cunt, hm? Tell me, baby—are you fucking soaked? Thinking about me fucking you while Changbin stands just behind this door, wanting what he can’t have?...”

“Oh shit—” Your brain completely short circuits, unable to stop the desperate cant of your hips. Yours and his moans bleed into one another as your clothed cores come into contact. Minho’s fingers tighten on your leg—just shy of bruising. You wonder if he can feel the extent of your wetness against the front of his jeans, but all thoughts are chased away when you deliver yet another roll, expertly dragging your swelling folds over his crotch.

“Fucking hell”—he hisses, his hand beside your head tightening into a fist—“I-I—hah—I’m not gonna l-last if you keep—mm—rutting against me like a kitten in heat…”

His words only motivate your intentions, sharpening and angling your rocks so your clit consistently meets what you believe to be the head of his cock. Seeking more leverage, you wind your arms around his waist and tug him even closer against your body. His face seeks refuge in the crook of your neck as you continue your assault, further fueled by the hot breath caressing your collarbones.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m actually gonna c-cum—”

You silently agree with your companion, gasping loudly when his hips begin to match your rhythm. You both cling to one another as your climaxes approach one after another—Minho’s guttural groan triggering a release that spills white-hot bliss through your veins. You can feel your cunt pulsating as you fight to catch your breath, tiredly leaning your head back against the door. It’s not until you suddenly remember where you are, who you’re with, and what you’ve done that you awaken from your post-orgasmic stupor.

“What… What did we just do?...”

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much—”

You shove Minho arms length away with a newfound adrenaline, staring at his confused expression with enough shock to render your muscles numb. “H-How can you joke about this!? You just—I-I just—”

“Made me cum in my pants like a fucking girl boss? That you did.” His wide eyes gradually recede, being replaced with a sexy smirk you’ve seen too many times before—the same smirk he displays when recounting his nightly conquest. “And I, as promised, gave you the orgasm of a lifetime—told you I was gifted.”

The events that took place after your and Minho’s sinful exchange are blurry—likely a result of your light alcohol consumption and disbelief in your and your best friend’s previous actions—but you remember bits and pieces about an Uber ride back to your apartment with Minho blabbering on about some book he’s reading in his literature class. You couldn’t tell whether or not it was his attempt at pretending like nothing happened, or he simply couldn’t care less about what transpired just minutes before—as if dry humping his best friend of 22 years against a random bedroom door at a frat party is a daily occurrence.

You’re not sure what’s more jarring—the fact that Minho is being so casual about everything, or the fact that, despite the inner turmoil hurtling through your mind, you enjoyed the experience. Minho wasn’t wrong when he confronted you about your lack of action. It’s been almost a year and a half since you’ve felt the intimate touch of another person, savored the joys of an orgasm brought by hands that aren’t your own. And while it could have been anyone in the moment, a part of you—the one that isn’t screaming red flags like a mad woman—is almost relieved it was Minho, the same Minho who wiped your tears when your first high school boyfriend cheated and held your hand at your first blood draw because he knows you don’t like needles.

You can’t help but smile at the memory, remembering his poor attempt at distracting you by belting out the lyrics to the Phantom of the Opera in a key that couldn’t be more off. Underneath the vulgar language and rather alarming body count, the Minho you know and love would never do anything to hurt you. As he said at the party, he only wants to help you get over your stupid crush on Changbin. His intentions might not be that pure, per say, seeing as he’s a borderline sex addict, but you can look past that because he’s Minho—your closest and bestest friend.

Which brings you to the now, agreeing to his arrangement after dragging him up to your apartment.

“I still don’t think this is the best idea, but I’m willing to try.”

“Hell yeah!” Minho celebrates as if he found out he just won the lottery. “I knew you’d come around—bet you’re too curious about the wonders of my dick to say no.”

You hold up a finger. “If we’re gonna do this, there has to be rules, boundaries to make sure things don’t get complicated.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“No cuddling, no kissing, and most definitely no feelings,” you say. “We can discuss personal likes and dislikes later, but these three things are totally off the table… fair?”

“Everything will be strictly no strings attached—just two best friends helping each other burn off some steam.” You watch in confusion as Minho retreats further into your apartment, returning only minutes later with an old sketchbook he stole off your bookshelf. He quickly flips to a blank page and scribbles down a myriad of things before ripping out the paper to present it to you proudly. “May I introduce the Best Friends’ with Benefits contract, or the BFB for short.”

“The BFB? You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nah, baby—I’m dead fucking serious… get it?”

“Oh my fucking god…”

He smirks. “God, huh? I’m flattered, kitten, but let’s just stick with my name for now…”

“Can you for one second stop acting like a goddamn condom ad and be serious!?” Your outburst surprises not only your companion, but yourself too. You attempt to collect your bearings, inhaling a deep breath to clear the tightness in your chest before continuing in a softer tone: “I just—this isn’t like your other hook-ups, okay? I can’t be one of those people you just fuck and throw away like a used condom—”

“Woah, woah, hold on, (Y/N),” Minho interrupts, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you really think that low of me? You’re my best friend, not some cheap hooker off the street—I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You can’t help but look away from his almost pained gaze, shrugging your shoulders with a sigh. “Of course I know that. I just… don’t want to lose you.”

“Hey.” You’re forced to meet Minho’s eyes when he gently takes your chin between two fingers and turns your head. His smile is small, but endearingly genuine. “Just two best friends helping each other out with no kissing, no cuddling, and no feelings—the BFB in itself.”

“Still a stupid name,” you mumble, unable to curb the smile pulling at your own lips. “Are we supposed to sign away our consent on that piece of paper?”

“Nah, that was just for dramatic flair. Consider it an unspoken promise between us.”

You move to roll your eyes, but are pleasantly surprised when Minho takes a step forward, leaving only an inch of space between your faces. You’re reminded of your escapade back at the party, your body instantly growing warm at the memory of no doubt one of the best orgasms of your life. Goosebumps scatter across your bare skin as your companion takes your hand, delicately weaving your pinkies together before leaning down to press a long peck to the swell of your knuckles. You swear your body comes alive—slick already pooling into your underwear at his touch.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop, (Y/N).” Despite the arousal clouding your brain, you recognize Minho’s gentle tone—one you’ve only heard on a handful of occasions. Your heart can’t help but flutter at his consideration for your comfort—yet another reminder that he’ll always be there for you no matter what…

“Don’t stop, Minho,” you finally concede, winding your arms around his neck to tug him even closer. “I don’t want you to stop…”

The care in his gaze instantly melts into something dark—almost sinister.

“Is that so? You better prepare for the best fuck of your life, kitten, ‘cause I’m not gonna stop until the only name you remember is mine…”

“You talk a big game, Min,” you snicker, seductively gliding your hand down the front of his silk button-up to the waistband of his jeans. “Ever heard the saying that actions speak louder than words? Unless all of it is just that—talk?”

You shiver at the malicious sneer that overtakes his face.

“I’ve been with enough guys and girls to know it’s not just talk, now I suggest you head to your room before I take you right here on the floor.”

Unable to respond, you follow his instruction and retreat to your bedroom with Minho following close behind. Once you reach your destination, Minho allows you a moment to remove your heels and plug in your phone. You reach behind your back, ready to escape the confines of your snug dress, but a second pair of hands halt your movements.

Minho hums. “So fucking glad you wore this dress—allow me to remove it?”

“Be my guest.”

You’re surprised at how sensual Minho is, slowly trailing his hands up the length of your arms, over your shoulders, and down your back as if committing the curves of your body to memory. You’re breathless by the time he actually begins to unzip your dress, using his other hand to trace your naked spine as it becomes more and more exposed. The logical part of your mind knows he’s playing with you—having heard many, many recounts from previous victims of his sadistic delight to tease.

Impatient and soaking through your underwear, you whirl around to shove Minho onto your bed. He lands with a gasp, annoyance crowding his features. You watch him open his mouth, likely to chastise your hastiness, but interrupt his motives by peeling the rest of the dress from your figure. His jaw drops at the sight of your favorite pair of black lingerie, emphasizing the very best parts of your body like a vice.

“See something you like, Min?”

“Shut the fuck up and get over here already,” he seethes.

“Someone’s a bit impatient,” you laugh. It’s evil, you know that very well, but you can’t deny how much you enjoy pushing your best friend’s buttons—even more so in a situation like this one. With a bite of your lip and a wink, you trail a single hand down your front between your breasts, pausing just above the band of your panties. “Make you a deal—I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

“Never expected you to be a dirty fucking tease,” Minho sasses, but smirks in amusement and listens to your intended command nonetheless. You stare with hooded eyes as he removes his shirt, taking his sweet time to undo every single button and gradually reveal the caramel planes of his chest to your greedy gaze. Your knees nearly buckle as his bare biceps flex with every movement, complimenting the leanness of his form perfectly. You don’t even realize he’s also discarded his jeans until his husky tone reaches your ears: “You gonna stand there and gawk all night? Or are you gonna come over here and ride me into the sunset?”

His suggestion is too good to pass up, which is why your feet frantically carry you to the bed where Minho’s thick thighs welcome your weight. He pulls you closer by the hips, dragging your still clothed cores against one another. You release a groan at the contact while Minho hisses, busying himself with tracing your collarbones with his tongue. You’re not sure where to put your hands, deciding to splay them behind you on his knees.

“Do you—shit”—you almost choke when he nips at your decolletage—“do you have a c-condom?”

“Back pocket,” he mumbles against your skin.

In record time, you manage to fish the contraceptive from his discarded jeans and pull it over his already hard cock. Minho pumps himself once, twice, inhales a deep breath, then looks at you pointedly. “Y-You sure about this?”

“One hundred percent,” you say, dragging aside the seam of your panties without a second thought. Once again, Minho pulls you as close as possible against his chest, assisting you in your task of lining his bulbous head with your dripping entrance. Your body screams in absolute euphoria as he begins to breach your walls, stretching your core with a delicious ache that you haven’t felt in months. You have to relax your mind, nearly cumming at the sensation, and focus on your ragged breathing instead.

“Holy shit, you feel amazing—you okay?”

“J-Just give me second,” you stutter. “It’s—hah—it’s been awhile.”

“You’re in control here, baby,” Minho assures. “Move when it feels comfortable, hm?”

“I might… I might cum…”

“Just from my cock?” You curse the cocky smirk that spreads across your best friend’s face. “Go ahead, kitten, ‘cause I believe I promised you a night of endless pleasure—that’s only one of many…”

...What did you get yourself into?

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