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hoseoksluna · 6 months

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MURK | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 16.9k

summary: one encounter with jungkook heals you enough to mend your boyfriend's heart.

pinterest board: murk

warnings: anxiety attack, different forms of self-harm and self-sabotage, mental agony, mutual masturbation, toying with polyamory, foreshadowing the use of a sex toy, alcohol consumption, seduction, provocation, teasing, oc wears pretty lingerie, cuckold kink, guided female masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, nipple play, clit rubbing, ass play, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, facial, cum eating

note: oh my god, this was supposed to have three parts, but it was getting way too long and i decided to prolong the series. i'm not gonna even mention how many parts this series is gonna have bc my characters surprise me every time i finish writing so... they're the boss of me. ANYWAYS, pls i am so proud of this work of mine and i can't wait for you all to read it. pls, spam my inbox anonymously! i need to hear your thoughts, so pretty please, let me know everything you're feeling, hating, expecting etc. i'm absolutely obsessed with oc, jk and yoongi. ALSO, let me know what team you are. team yoongi or team jk? i'll put a poll in the final part if i remember. hehe ENJOY READING ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Sensing Yoongi’s emotions, the clouds pull in, shunning the sunlight and you feel it. You feel it, enormously.

The wind becomes violent. Curtains of sheer gray slap against the windows, undulating with such might that you sense its urgency. You stare at it in deep thought, naked and barren—void of any dignity, void of any rightness of feelings. A hole of blackness takes form in the middle of your chest, where the memory of Yoongi exiting the room hastily plays on a loop and there’s a faint, feeble hand in you, one of that urgency, that reaches for him, while the other remains slack at your side, caressing your own skin, pacifying your selfishness, your hypnosis—dragging you away from the side you had unwittingly and so unrightfully chosen.

And while you want to mend what you’ve caused in your relationship, the only side you want to take at the moment is your own. The defeat pains you still, but what aches even more is the feeble wish there wasn’t any defeat at all. Not on Yoongi’s face, not on yours.

You don’t regret what you’ve done. You don’t want to regret anything anymore, which is why you’re still standing dressed in your femininity as Jungkook apprehensively rakes his hands through his hair on the bed. You care very little for it because a bigger part of you is concerned about the well-being of your boyfriend. You wonder what he’s up to downstairs. Is he pacing? Is he busying himself from the onrush of his negative emotions, not able to stand the sight of you? You’d run to him, but there’s a bigger matter at hand. You have to fix your mind first. You have to cleanse yourself of the mess and the chaos, sort out the darkness so the light pours in.

The light that will guide you to make the right decisions at last. The light that will burst your ugliness to smithereens, smother you with its heat so the hypnosis won’t penetrate it again. The light that should, ultimately, help Yoongi, help your relationship—fix its face, soothe out the overbearing tension.

You’re aware Jungkook put you under a spell, now that the wind and Yoongi’s coldness has sobered you up. Turned you against him. Made you forget about him. You give zero fucks about how he does it time and time again. What you will concentrate on in the present time is making sure it won’t happen again. How? You’ll figure it out. Somehow.

You don’t want any of the males to regard you as of now—and you wish you were alone, you wish you could escape like Yoongi did. That thought leads you, conspicuously, to begin to understand the reason behind his actions, but you don’t allow it to unfold in you. Not yet. You turn around to look at Jungkook.

Elbows propped on his thighs, he’s digging a hole into the hardwood floors with the blackness of his irises. A small mole kisses the side of his ribs, the only visible part of his body that is otherwise clouded in shadows. You take your eyes away from that sight, not trusting yourself, hating yourself for naturally looking at that intimate part of him. Upon the sound of your movement, Jungkook flicks his eyes towards your form. You dislike everything about his attentiveness to you with every fiber of the betrayal that your body has become.

His face is squished in his hands. He doesn’t look at your bareness. Merely studies the emotions written on your face. Like the healer he is, you know he wants to find something, anything to latch himself onto. And while you once obsessed over this need of his to mend, to make right, you despise it now. In spite of it, while you swallow down your distaste for it, your hand yearns to pet him like the wounded puppy he is, because you know that the tumultuous darkness both men are facing is of your origin, of your doing.

You keep it clenched in a tight fist.

You don’t want to touch him anymore. You don’t want to touch any of them. Don’t want to cause any more harm than you already have with your desires.

Jungkook startles when you make your way towards your travel bag. You hide your breasts beneath your forearm, not wished to be seen, not wishing to be vulnerable like that. The feeling of your stickiness along the inner sides of your thighs makes you cringe, worsens your hatred, and tears begin to sting in your waterline when you unzip your bag and grab the first thing you see. Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but for the last time you avert your gaze from him and bolt to his bathroom. At the sound of his heavy steps, you slam the door shut.

He calls your name and it is only then, when you’re alone, that you let those bitter tears and whimpers emit out of you. The sound is hidden by each strike of his palm upon the wood and your hand flies to your mouth in effort to stifle your emotions, feeling undeserving of them, feeling wrong, ugly, not worthy of his damned attention—not worthy of anything.

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook whines. The first pet name he ever called you. You let out a pained sound and he forces the door open with all his might. Even though you don’t want to, you let him see the state of you—clutching your wrinkled dress and panties, concealing the evidence of the pleasure he gave to your body, of your femininity that he had put under his spell.

You step away from the threshold, slinking deeper into the shadows of the bathroom. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be looking at you with such solicitude and affection. His brows shouldn’t be knitted like that, those eyes bigger and rounded than they usually are, fists tight and clenched, veins thumping and thick. Yoongi should be standing in his place with the intention to heal. Not him.

“Please, go away,” you whisper, hot tears pouring down your pallid cheeks. You’re ashamed of them because you know full well that at this point you should be doing anything but crying. You’ve gone through so much turmoil, mingled with the darkness to such great extent that you should be proud of your work. You wanted this at some point—you wanted to remain the opposite force with separate feelings. You wanted to be his, when you had no right to choose.

Jungkook’s eyes glisten. You turn your back to him, unable to be a witness to his emotions. You can’t see that; you don’t deserve to and he shouldn’t be feeling like this. He should’ve long exited this disorder—

You sob louder, exhausted of your thoughts, exhausted of shoulds, of wrongness. Turn the shower on, aware of the traces of disobedience and pain on your backside and you want to hide, but you have nowhere to go to.

Jungkook turns the main lights off, leaving only the soft flickering bulbs on by the mirror. Ever the healer who senses your emotions by some sixth sense that you hate. Dimness covers your shame.

He takes away your dress and panties and you let him. Folds them neatly on his laundry hamper. You watch him treat your underwear with such gentleness that it hurts. A flashback of him ripping your thong and making your bum red fills your brain, causing your feelings to expand in your chest—so much that you think your body is too small to keep them in. You can’t breathe, your lungs don’t have enough space to stretch and you panic, taking small breaths that don’t appease your need for air. Not at all.

You step into the shower, needing to get away.

The hot water burns on the curves of your behind and you hiss, but it alleviates your hatred. You deem it is precisely what you deserve. Your hand turns the temperature higher, sobbing into the stream of water, lungs heaving with such heft and it is okay, for it camouflages your hypocrisy. That is, until Jungkook notices it.

“Are you crazy?” he mutters in dismay, fixing the temperature, but you grip his wrist briefly, pushing it away. Don’t look at him. Only warn him this way, silently. His miffed sigh wafts into the mist rising along your form, diffusing into your hair that still carries the scent of the pond. You want to wash it all out. “It’s going to hurt more like this.”

You scowl, cupping the water in your hands like a child. “I don’t care. Leave.”

The outward pain of your body isn’t the problem here. It aggravates you how he doesn’t see it—how he can be so ignorant to the more important matter at hand. Yoongi left because of him and because of you, because of the single-minded pleasure between you both that had nothing to do with Yoongi. You might as well have been there alone with him—Yoongi being just a pair of helping hands. Redundant.

Burning. Burning of eyes, burning of skin, burning ache of heart.

Jungkook scoffs at your forwardness, dumbfounded. Has the audacity to follow the drop of water trickling down the small of your back. You splash him, willing him to go away, but he stays put. Unbuttons his cargos. Hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, ridding himself, and stepping into the shower with you, sliding the door shut.

You whisk your eyes to him with as much ill-will as you’re able to muster and he seizes it, unafraid of it, backing you against the wall. Solemn mien, subdued and so soft amidst the hardness of his decisiveness. Small pearls of emotion are stained upon the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, twinkling in the shadows in tandem with the ever persisting glint perched on top of his irises. “I told you to leave.”

He doesn’t blink. “You splashed me,” he utters, lowly. Grips your waist and pushes you against the coolness of the tiles. It takes a hold of the burn and rips it away, relief flooding in its place and your features relax against your will. “See how it feels better?”

It does, but you don’t give him the benefit of the doubt—you refuse to. Not when you deserve to rot for hurting your boyfriend enough to make him leave, not when it should be him standing here with you—

“Don’t punish yourself,” Jungkook whispers, fixing the temperature yet again, letting the mist disperse. Such a tender, velvety sound that reaches deep inside of you, even when you want to fight him, even when you think that punishing yourself is the least you can do, considering how despicable you’ve become. But then he dabs a small amount of body wash onto his palm, rubs it across your sternum and it nobbles the drift of your self-sabotage.

You feel the snugness of his touch, the darkness thickening in you and you take a fright of it.

You put a stop to it.

Grasping his wrist, you blink through the unrelenting fragrance of cherries filling your nostrils. “Don’t touch me.”

Seeing the panic flitting over your damp eyes, he lets go, respecting your wish. Smears it on the broadness of his chest instead. “Alright, I won’t touch you.”

You sigh a whiny, vulnerable breath of relief. The glint of his irises ripples as tears pool across them. He, too, blinks them away. Stills as a sculpture while watching the film of your emotions. For a mere moment. Your throat constricts. Time, then, resumes.

Jungkook hands you the bottle. Silence suffuses the profound atmosphere as you lather yourself in the cherry aroma. Almost without touching your skin, he peels your hair away from your back, capacitating you to reach your shoulder. As if his hands, now that they’ve acknowledged themselves with your body, simply cannot keep their distance. You shoot him a look that forces him to drop his limb. Note that it trembles on its way down to his side; note the same trepidation beginning its course on your body. Your mouth rounds in yet another rush of emotions, but you don’t cry.

You’re so tired. So tired of feeling. So tired of guilt, of shame, of getting up and falling again.

You avoid your intimate parts, your breasts and your behind. You hold your body instead, arms wrapped around your ribcage in effort to put yourself back together. You don’t understand why he’s here, why he cares; why he thinks he has the right to touch you without your boyfriend being present, why he thinks the situation between you and Yoongi is something he needs to remedy. And why, ultimately, he thinks it’s right to be on your side, instead of Yoongi’s.

He’s not your friend. He doesn’t know you.

You look up at him to fire that question at him, but Jungkook clutches the shower head and, with lukewarm water, he cleanses you of the foam, the bubbles and the stickiness on your thighs that he never got to wipe clean because you had pushed him away earlier. And then it happens.

He cleanses you of your dirtiness, of your hatred and of your tiredness, too. With the same shower head, the same lukewarm water. And you can’t explain how he does it, how your body lets him, how it willingly lets go until there’s nothing in you anymore. Just the cherry perfume and the hole in your chest with a murky cloud in the middle. You merely watch it dribble down your skin, plop onto the tiles on the floor, swimming around your feet and his. Dumbstruck.

You feel like stomping on it, but you don’t have the energy. Figure it will drown in the small pool of water on its own, die a slow, painful death, before it trickles down the drain.

You don’t know how it came about now that it’s gone and you can’t take your eyes off of him. All he did was rinse you off. And the ridiculousness of it all is that, the more Jungkook deepens your eye contact, the more you want it back. You want to be the one who purges you of it. Steal the magic from his hands and splatter it back on your skin, in place of the cherries. He can keep those.

Why did he come? Why didn’t he go to Yoongi?

And you ask him. “Why are you here?”

He fishes for a bottle of shampoo. “Will you let me wash your hair?”

You scowl up at him. “I asked you a question.”

Stillness in his features. “So did I.”

That damned stubbornness, so reminiscent of yours, of your muted, silent one, hidden within you. Fair enough. You search within yourself for any hint of protest. Find none—find it’s been washed away, find cherries and the heft of the cloud, no darkness, much to your dismay. You turn your back towards him.

“Tilt your head back.”

Thankful that he didn’t do it himself, you do as he says. Jungkook wets your hair and you feel the pond leaving you, your heart skipping over to latch onto it, adamant on not letting it leave, but alas—it disappears along with everything else. You wish your heart would trickle down the drain, too. You have no need for it, anyways.

Jungkook’s touch on your hair is benign, careful as he rubs the shampoo on your scalp. You flutter your eyes shut, welcoming in, somehow, the massage that diminishes the intensity, which your thoughts are hurled at you with, as though he was the owner of them and he came home to make order. And they settle altogether to listen as he begins to speak. “It shattered my heart. To see both of you so broken because of me. I saw it at dinner at first. Then I saw it again today. It pains me. It pains me that it’s my fault.”

Silence, hefty, strong silence. The principle of being seen by another pair of eyes; the principle of your agony being seen and understood, no longer obscured within your mind, within your heart. Jungkook didn’t just see you, he saw Yoongi, too. Saw through you both. Something about that, along with the work of his fingertips, mitigates the heaviness of your emptiness, of your cloud, but it doesn’t tear the misty body. Not yet.

Your throat is dry. “Why are you here, then? Why aren’t you with Yoongi? He’s your friend.”

He gently drags his palms across your length. “Because Yoongi deals with things like this on his own. He doesn’t need a friend when he goes through shit. He needs to be alone.”

You don’t understand. Yoongi always needed you when his mental health was at stake. Needed you as he unraveled the entanglement of ropes of that darkness that had enveloped his mind by talking to you about it. Then, he would eat with you, fuck you and try again the next day. It would be a long process, but it would be something you’d go through together. There never was a time he’d walk that path alone.

And then it hits you.

That was before you. Before he met you, he meandered through that decaying meadow alone. Jungkook served in the military—he doesn’t know anything about the change that occurred. Doesn’t know that Yoongi gave up his isolation.

And you tell him. Merely a hint of it. Figure it’s Yoongi’s story to tell and you don’t have the heart to snatch that opportunity away from him.

Listening to your words, Jungkook slackens. You only hear the sound of the shower head being put back into its place that indicates his shock to you. You figure he wanted to rinse off the shampoo, but the information paralyzed his body. You turn around to see that bewilderment writing verses across his features. Tenderness, too. A tendril of liquid emotion swirling past his waterline. “I tried my best to make that happen when I could,” he utters and you don’t think he realizes he said it, eyes unfocused, fixed on the tile beside your arm. “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for him. To let you in.”

You feel the same tenderness curling into your cloud. Your mouth rounds again. Touched, terribly touched. Gladness holds hands with that tenderness, gladness that he didn’t leave when you had told him to. Because if he had never stepped inside the shower, you wouldn’t have known. You wouldn’t have known the secret that changes everything.

You yearn to see Yoongi. Yearn to hug him, hold him, to pour out your love into him. Think you’re ready now. Stable enough to satisfy your craving. And in the love that you feel for him, you sense the light swarming, begging to be seeped into him.

You stand beneath the stream to rinse off the shampoo, the water blanketing your head, peace penetrating your skull, tidying up the mess in your mind. Hushing out your thoughts now that your negative feelings long slinked away. You’re a new person. Clean, purified. And while you find it hard to believe, all you want to do is truly run to Yoongi.

You can’t let him venture back to that forlorn meadow, to the ghost of his isolation. You might have shown him the way, but you have the will to stop him—and that’s more than enough.

The healer that Jungkook is… he did it again. He dismantled your attachment and now he fixed your mind. You don’t know from what source he had rooted out the light, but he gave it to you. He gave it to you when you needed it the most, without knowing a thing about it.

Blindly, you hook a finger around his index in a gesture of thanks. You don’t want to look at his nakedness. Don’t want to be pulled into that energy again. It brings his attention to you and you want to weep. Differently now. You want to weep due to the fact he somehow, seemingly, knows because he cups himself. Due to the roundness of his eyes that you know, that still live under your skin—differently now, too. Due to the fact that you got to be acquainted with him, despite the ruckus and the pain it came with.

And you hope, in all truthfulness, that you remain something along the lines of friends after this day is over. How else would you have gotten to this healing?

You open your mouth to express your gratitude, but Jungkook speaks first. “Don’t look at my worm.”

The laughter that dribbles out of your mouth is so lightweight, so full of breezy and summer-breathed relief that the tears, which were held in, do break through the confinement and roll down the apples of your cheeks. Different, different tears.

Friends, yes, please. You beg the heavens. May they let him become your friend.

Jungkook scrunches his nose, squeezing your finger, relief, too, washing over him. “Don’t cry, I swear it’s not small like this all the time. It gets bi—”

“Get me a towel, you dummy,” you say, softly, amidst your sputtering laughter, wiping your tears away. Jungkook smiles, the change of the atmosphere illuminating him from beneath, and he slides the door open, letting the slight cold air in. You turn off the water, focusing your eyes on the last ripples of water draining your negative emotions until they slip, entirely, away.

Jungkook holds out a beige towel for you. Doesn’t wrap it around you; still respects your wish. Lets you take it from him and then he disappears into the bedroom, closing the door shut behind him.

You used the alone time to doll yourself up for Yoongi. At least a little bit—you didn’t want to overdo it, amongst other things that you already had.

Although you missed your favorite mango scent, the cherries didn’t seem so bad and you got accustomed to it fairly quickly as you swiped a tiny bit of your cream blush along your cheeks, where you’ve let your relieved tears dry. You smeared the same tint of soft red upon the puffiness of your lips, connecting it to the perfume, connecting it to the healing that sank lower and lower in your gut. And you sealed it into the entwistment of your braid—sealed it fully.

You won’t let it leave you. Not this time; not again.

By the time your feet pad down the wooden stairs, you discover what Yoongi was up to in his absence. Three plates of ramen are prepared on the dinner table, gone cold by now, along with utensils and opened cans of fizzy drinks. The sight lids your eyes with tears, but you stifle them, blink them away. You thought he wanted to forget you, when in reality he had you in mind the whole time. And not just you, but your culprit as well—and he cooked him food.

A sudden roar forces your head to whisk towards the balcony. And your heartbeat quickens. You don’t feel your legs as you speed outside.

Yoongi sits on top of the stairs, a cigarette in hand, torso twisted, facing Jungkook, whose shoulders sag in consternation, palms open towards him. He makes a move to his side, but Yoongi raises a limb to stop him. Looks at you for a moment. At your wet hair, at the same state of Jungkook’s. Your heart lodges in your throat—

“Get away from me,” Yoongi mutters, taking a long drag from his cigarette, and you don’t feel anything at all. Not your legs trembling, threatening to drop to the ground. Not the standstill of your bloodstream. You’re struck, unable to speak, to think. Yoongi rises to his feet and points his busy fingers at you. “Did you enjoy your shower?” he spits the venom in your face, ruining your makeup that you diligently put on for him—your tears flow, mingling with it, hot to the touch. “Did you enjoy fucking him?”

You gasp. “No, Yoongi, I didn’t—”

Yoongi’s own tears pool in his clouded eyes. You’ve never seen them before and they break you, tear apart the cloud in you. “You didn’t what, honey?” he croaks out. Repeats the question.

Your sobs ache, but you don’t care. You take a step towards him, reach out your hand like you should’ve done earlier before he left and he takes it. The light that spills out from your chest radiates him, radiates him enough that he gives you the chance to explain yourself, to redeem his heart and you’re willing to do anything for it. His palm is cold, more cold than it’s ever been and Yoongi squeezes you, as if to beg you to undo the gashes upon his heart. Jungkook looks at the intertwinement for a mere second and you refuse to note the sliver of pain whirling past his eyes. Not this time; not again—this is about you and Yoongi. And you’re glad when he leaves. You don’t watch him go.

“I didn’t have sex with him,” you whisper, the only way you could keep your voice still, your tears soaking the neckline of your lacy dress. You will your healing not to quiver, but to remain strong, remain unbreakable. “I swear on my life that I didn’t.”

The same drops of pain pour down his face and you can’t bear it. You bury your face into his clothed chest, bunching the material of his T-shirt in your fists, needing him to believe you, needing him—

“You took a shower with him,” he breathes in pure disbelief. You feel it palpitate in his heart that your forehead is pressed against. This time, you understand right away how wrong that was—that showers are something that belongs to you and him, your shared rose garden of some sort that they could become, even though you were too smothered by the darkness to realize it fully in the moment.

You halt the shame creeping in. The guilt, the wisps of darkness. You’ve healed, and it shall stay that way. No more.

“I took a shower alone.” The wind nips at you and it is like a slash of a whip on your back. “He came in—”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. Lets his cigarette fall to the floor of the veranda. With his lips pursed and like a bolt of lightning you can’t keep in your hands, he rips himself out of your hold and lopes inside the cabin with heavy, wrathful steps.

And you can’t stop it—the colliding of Yoongi’s fist on Jungkook’s cheekbone.

You yelp, grabbing a hold of the fabric of Yoongi’s T-shirt to pull him back, your sight blurred enough that you can’t see. You can’t see properly the way Yoongi doesn’t let Jungkook fall to the floor, but instead grabs him by the collar and fumes in his face. Your sobs choke you and you press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his torso, willing him to stop, begging him in your silent language.

You feel the heavy, long thuds of his heart, the trembling lift and fall of his chest and you squeeze him tighter, weeping into the cloth of his garment, emitting liquid fear—fear of Yoongi receiving the same hit, fear of the darkness, much bigger one, enveloping all three of you. And you don’t have the time to blame yourself for causing this. Yoongi’s words stop you dead in your tracks.

“You forced yourself on her?” he hisses, pushing him to and fro like the curtain billowing behind you. “Are you that fucking desperate for pussy that you forced yourself on my girl? Should I fucking kill you?”

A momentary stillness. Your breath is loud. Louder than the hard huffs of air escaping the mouths of the two males.

“Let go, hyung,” Jungkook croaks out, defeated. And you don’t know how the sound of it makes you feel. Perhaps, you’re feeling nothing, which is a good thing. You put your boyfriend first in your weak heart, his feelings, his well-being. Not Jungkook; not yourself. Even though your heart silently, painlessly cracks.

“I asked you a question.” Yoongi’s wrath rises, absorbing the room, despite the fact his voice is deadly calm. You squeeze him harder.

He did force himself into your personal space, but if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been healed. You wouldn’t be here, on your boyfriend’s side. And the thought of being the opposite force if he hadn’t done that, cradling his back instead of Yoongi’s terrifies you enough that you speak up—in need to fix the situation.

“He didn’t, Yoongi. I promise,” you whimper, burying your face deeper into the middle between his shoulder blades. And there you feel his spine shake. You caress his stomach to soothe him, peppering kisses along that strong column.

Yoongi punches him again. It reverberates throughout your whole body. You only hear the crash of Jungkook’s form onto the floor.

“Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again,” Yoongi hisses and he twists his wrist to alleviate himself of the affliction scattering along his knuckles. “And what you’ve done to her, the pain you’ve caused her is something I will never forgive you for.”

Stillness. Terrible, terrible stillness. The whip of the wind. A roar of an upcoming storm in the heavens far, far away. You don’t become it. You remain yourself. His girlfriend, defended.

Yoongi turns around and cradles your face in his hands. Wet, worried eyes, begging you for something that you can’t pinpoint. Shiny, sniffling nose, suppressing his emotions. Red, regretful mouth, breathing out exasperated breaths. Quivering chin—quaint in the rawness of his expressed love towards you. You yearn to kiss him, you yearn to take him home, so terribly remorseful that you got him into this gut-wrenching mess. And you listen to your body, fulfill the only right decision you’ve come across since meeting his friend.

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whisper, pecking him softly. Yoongi nods, wiping your tears away. Takes your hand and leads you towards the front door.

Jungkook, now standing on his wobbly feet, bruised and bloodied, merely watches the pair of you. Sorrowful. And as you walk away from him, you clutch in your heart what he’s done for you.

Yoongi hands you his car keys. “Wait in the car.”

You nod and you go. Don’t stick around to see the unfolding of the storm. Don’t say goodbye.

The rain pitter-patters on the roof of the car. You’re tired of it. You’re tired of the summer. Don’t find any beauty in it. Not even in the mountains and the trees.

Yoongi hasn’t come back yet.

Your stomach grumbles, but you don’t feel any hunger. You’ve nibbled on your bottom lip so much that rawness of blood is all that your teeth sink into. The same blood that, much like your darkened self-sabotage, trickled out of Jungkook’s nostril. It tastes bitter on your tongue.

A ruthless carousel of scenarios spin in your mind and you’re tightly buckled in the seat of fear with no way out. The fear that, in your absence, Yoongi’s hit got reciprocated. The fear that the same blood you taste could, possibly, be on your own hands.

You want to get away from here. Far, far away.

When Yoongi emerges from the cabin, a thunder announces it. The only blood you detect is the dried one on his knuckles. The rain didn’t get to clean it and once he places the same hand upon the shivering coldness of your thigh, a decision perks up in you. A decision to not let anyone get in the way of mending and cleansing anymore.

You shall be the one who does it now. Not the rain, not Jungkook. They’ve both done enough.

And when you lift that wounded hand to your lips, you wish you could clean it with your tears—but you fear the salt would only pain him more. So you settle for your sighs of relief, for your gentle kisses and for the light in you to do the work.

“No more tears, honey,” Yoongi murmurs, cupping your chin and pecking you. “It’s over now.”

You drift to sleep during the ride home.

And you sleep through the whole afternoon in an anguished effort to forget. Forget the blood, forget the sound of Jungkook’s body hitting the floor… forget yourself.

You didn’t dream about anything at all. Only the darkness consumed you, a lullaby of nothingness.

And when you awake, your feet groggily take you to Yoongi. They seem to know where he is, even when your eyelids are still half-closed, even when your brain still dozes. A canopy of dusky, darkening heavens, with hues of roses dispersed all around, gently fondles your eyes to rouse them fully and right here, on the balcony, much different to the one you spent your afternoon on—much smaller, much more confined—is where you find your boyfriend. An empty pack of cigarettes on the table, a cold purple lighter and a dark bottle of liquor.

His strained back greets you first. He doesn’t hear your steps; he doesn’t sense your presence and it isn’t until your fingertips touch his saddened spine that he turns around. Wrinkles of the same dejected nature, absolute despair wrung into the paleness of his face. You cradle it and you bolster it when he spills into your hands, when you feel the hotness of his tears. And you spill with him—the only thing left to do.

You will your light to swathe him. Press his head against your chest as you lead him to take a seat with you on his lap. And you keep your mouth tightly shut when the soreness of your muscles, the slight discomfort of the burn on your skin forces a whine out of you. You keep it caged in. Put your boyfriend first.

Sifting your fingers through his hair, you kiss his scalp—kiss his mind, even when you don’t know its contents. To ease it, whatever it was that caused him to break.

You sit like this until the moon springs from the clouds. You don’t look at it. Refuse to.

It’s Yoongi who speaks first, cold fingers sunk beneath your thighs, seeking your warmth.

“Tell me everything from the beginning,” he murmurs, weary eyes boring into yours. “I need to hear it from you.”

You’d give him anything he asked, anything he wished for; you’d pierce your heart if the time asked for it. And so you nod, place your hand on his chest, lie against his good shoulder and you begin to leak. Leak the simplest of words you’re able to find in your windswept mind.

“He put me in a trance when we were intimate. So much that I lost my mind, lost my surroundings, lost my sense of home.” You swallow, dryly, thinking that’s the best way you could explain it without deepening the gashes upon his heart. Decide you will not overdo it. “And when you left and I breathed in the fresh air, it was like I’d woken up from it. It hurt so much. I was worried about you, but I wasn’t ready to face you. Not when I had to deal with the repercussions.”

Yoongi squeezes the flesh of your thigh to comfort you, thumb fondling the skin back and forth, listening intently.

“I didn’t understand at first why you left. I was so out of it. But little pieces started to put it together in my mind as I was thinking about it. And then I saw Jungkook with his head in his hands and I knew I’d done something really, really bad. I wanted to run away, like you did, but I had no other place to go to other than the bathroom. And Jungkook…” you trail off, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally for this part of the story—the thread that is linked to the bruises upon Yoongi’s knuckles. “I thought he wanted to comfort me, and maybe he did. I pushed him away but he relented. He was concerned because I—” A lump forms in your throat, your lashes quiver. “I made sure the water was boiling hot because I wanted to burn off—I wanted to punish myself for making you leave, for hurting you. And then he got in the shower and I didn’t say anything.”

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you’re supposed to mention the matter of the burn of your backside and his concern regarding it without wounding Yoongi.

“He—” Your throat constricts and Yoongi cradles your face in his palm, lifting your head so you can gaze into his eyes, draw strength from him. He nods, encouraging you to continue, while seemingly giving you as much time as you need. Tears the lump apart. “He was worried because the hot water was making the burn on my butt worse, but I—I didn’t feel it. I was crying so hard.”

His eyes search for something in yours and you know right away what it is. The answer to his question on whether he touched you. You wrap your arm around his neck. Glad it didn’t wound him. Enough that you overbrim with the desire to assuage his disquiet.

“He didn’t touch me,” you whisper, although it’s not entirely true. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. “Not in the way you think. I told him to stop. He wanted to wash me. I told him no.”

He blinks, but you can’t read his solemn features. You see the memory of Jungkook gripping your waist and pushing you against the tiles, so you wouldn’t burn your skin, and you saying nothing displayed on them. It overwhelms you, but you fight it. What’s done is done.

The worst part of the story awaits you. You pluck it, ready to get it over with.

“All he did was rinse me off. And he told me about how it hurt him to see us like this because of him. I felt everything leaving me when I was listening to him. I don’t know how, but I did. He asked to wash my hair and I let him. I felt so relieved to be ridded of the guilt and the pain I felt that I started crying again. He made me laugh. And then he left me alone. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if he hadn’t been there.”

Stillness, awfully quiet stillness—like the one at the cabin, but you do not fear it. An abrupt onrush of strength fills your bones, giving you the notion that whatever comes next is something you’ll be able to endure.

Yoongi drops his hand. You will your heart not to drop along with it.

“The lines have been blurred so much that I—” He averts his gaze. Towards the glimmering stars up above as if they could give him the strength he’s now void of. “I don’t know if it’s fair for me to feel the way I do, when—when I let him have you.”

You are able to endure it. A motherly stimulus creeps in, one that has the capacity for the mightiness of whatever it is that he’s feeling. You want to swallow it down. You desire to.

“What do you feel, baby?” you whisper, nudging your nose against his, an Eskimo kiss to relieve him, to help him. “Tell me.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes in regret. “It should’ve been me,” he breathes. You nod, agreeing with him, even though you’ve accepted that fate wrote it was meant to be Jungkook. Perhaps for that very reason, he was inscribed to be pulled into that whole situation to begin with, no matter how lewd it was. “And it should’ve been me under that—”

He doesn’t let himself finish his sentence, but you know what he wanted to say. It brings tears to your eyes, the fact that he hated what you had done to yourself and instead wished it was him—to whom the harm was done.

You let them pour out. You don’t want them smothering you. You want everything out, so you can move on—so both of you can.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Another Eskimo kiss, a longer one this time. Yoongi sniffles against you and you want to pull out more from him, to rid him completely of those negative feelings. “Like you said, it’s over now.”

Yoongi nods, vulnerably, and you peck him on the mouth. And he’s unable to reciprocate the kiss, for his features twist in another rush of liquid emotions. You stroke the back of his hair, running your fingers down its length, urging softly more out.

“I don’t regret anything,” you continue, pressing your cheek against his tears, letting them seep into your skin. “Even though it hurt, I don’t regret it, Yoongi. Neither should you.”

He sobs and it reverberates through your body. You remain strong. Strong like the mountains. “I hurt him.”

The breath you inhale is knifing you sharply. “He loves you—”

“And I hurt him,” he cuts in, squeezing you against him, needing you. “I didn’t trust a word he said. I didn’t—” he heaves, unable to catch his breath, hiccups. “Because I thought he hurt you, I didn’t hear him out. I didn’t know he helped you.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me he didn’t force himself on you, but I didn’t believe him. I gave him so much shit for it, for spanking you. And then he begged me to hit him again.”

The healer deemed it would make Yoongi feel better. Your heart warps.

“Did you?”

“No.”

You kiss his temple and you don’t realize that it’s a silent thanks until you lift your lips, however you’re not thrown off balance. It should be like this. You should feel for both men. You should feel. It makes you a living, breathing human. And Yoongi’s reactions and emotions make him human, too, even if they seem wrong in the moment. It’s not something to hate him or judge him for—it’s something to love him for. He should feel safe. Deserves to.

It’s better than to feel nothing.

And you tell him. A thousand times until he nods, sloshing your words in his mouth before carefully swallowing them, accepting them.

“It’s not a lost cause. You can talk to him. And you can try again.”

Yoongi looks at you as he takes in what you’ve said, as if the concept never crossed his mind—or, if it did, it perhaps seemed too unrealistic to make happen. As if he was doomed for life. As if he lost him forever.

Love is never lost. And you tell him that as well.

Yoongi lights up from within. You wipe away his tears. Brush his hair away from his face. And you give him every last drop of your light, hugging him. And he hugs you back until birds begin to sing in the sky.

It took several weeks for Yoongi to gather courage to call Jungkook. Liquor bottles piled in a row on the balcony and you didn’t count them anymore, you just joined your boyfriend, who had become a frail skeleton, whenever his nerves asked for the burning liquid. Either you would keep him company or you’d bring your own shot glass. And each time, it would end with a subdued, murky therapy session, without the fucking.

Yoongi hasn’t touched you since the afternoon spent in the cabin.

He wasn’t in the mood and you stifled yours. Your body was so accustomed to the daily release of pleasure that because it didn’t have it now all of a sudden, it felt weird—it felt out of place, and you drowned it out with alcohol and smokes, drowned it out with shopping sprees until money ran out and stashes became empty. So you had to settle for your own hand.

And it was easy. You daydreamed about Jungkook. Felt the ghost of his fingers on every sensitive place your hand roamed. On your breast, on your thigh and on your clit, in your entrance. You replayed everything he’d done to you and it didn’t hurt; you didn’t feel shame. You’ve healed to the point that it drenched you, aroused you enough to coax your orgasm out in mere minutes.

And it didn’t feel shameful because Yoongi had told you the reason why he fled the scene.

“You were in pain and I couldn’t stand it. You wouldn’t look at me and if you did, you’d look away as if I had no role in the sex. He took control when it should’ve been me. And I didn’t do anything to stop it.”

It wasn’t about you being so preoccupied in the trance. It was about Jungkook taking charge as if you were his. Which was what led Yoongi to think he forced himself on you in the shower. It was about him being silent and not speaking up, prioritizing your pleasure.

It made sense to you, but you still apologized. For what, you didn’t know. Just felt the need to. And Yoongi made you feel so safe, as safe as you had made him feel that night on the balcony, that you couldn’t help but yap about how enjoyable it was for you—what Jungkook did to you. And Yoongi agreed.

You were content that you’ve moved past the hurt and focused on the real truth beneath, revealing it: you both had enjoyed it when you were pleasured.

You didn’t check if the conversation made him hard, for you ran into your bedroom to relieve yourself of the ache between your legs as fast as possible. But he found you. Watched you. Validated you. Validated your daydreams. Told you what to do as he smoked a cigarette, standing in between your outstretched legs before the bed, the summer wind cooling the sweat on your body. And then he told you to do it again.

And again.

Until he couldn’t pull out any more orgasms out of you.

He became obsessed with it.

Because the next day and the many after that, you did the same thing. He would watch you while you fingered yourself. He’d tell you what he’s doing to you in your daydreams, taking charge of them, what Jungkook is doing to you. Other times he’d jerk off and come all over your tummy and cunt. Still remain hard; still remain needy. He wouldn’t fuck you. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t even insulate it. Wouldn’t slip it inside the dreams. And once his desire would run out of its sweet wine, yours simply wouldn’t. And the more you both indulged in this act, you figured out two things.

One, Yoongi used it as a coping mechanism. As a healing tool to recuperate from the afternoon spent in the cabin, one that would ultimately help him have sex with you in the long run. Two, you were riding the waves of ideas and excitement with no real fulfillment, with no release.

Tasting the picture of the sin at first might have been enough—but the more you did it, the more you wanted to sink your teeth into the real thing.

You wanted Jungkook again.

And like the intelligent man Yoongi is, he figured it out, too.

A certain number of orgasms was an indication of an ending to this playful time. And the last time you did this, Yoongi—at this number—was ready to withdraw and jump into the shower, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Hungry, starved, devouring his neck, grinding your still wet pussy against his softening cock.

He put two and two together. Immediately.

“You’re hungry for what I haven’t given you yet, aren’t you?”

You begged for it, moaning against his artery, reveling in the feeling of his cock against you after such a long time. And when you looked at him, you saw drunkenness seizing his features. Drunkenness without the consumption of alcohol. And you felt the same inebriation enclosing around yours, knowing your desire sparked this inside of him. It felt different. Way, way different.

“Think about how you want it. Make yourself come as many times as you want. And when I come back from the shower, tell me about it. We’ll figure it out; we’ll make it work.”

It grazed your hunger. Squeezed it in such a playful way. Like a human hand squeezing an animal because of the cute-aggression it feels towards it.

You didn’t know how many times you came. You were too lost in the story you constructed, soaking the bed sheets even more than you already had. Your fingers had turned wrinkly by the time you opened your eyes, finished with the plot, to see Yoongi leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, not having the heart to disturb you in your passion.

And while you showered, playing the story in your head over and over, Yoongi cooked you food. Poured you liquid courage. Waited for you at the table, dressed only in a pair of joggers. Chain-smoked, the rule of only smoking on the balcony long forgotten during his process of healing.

When you sat down to eat, you slid your feet across his lap. Lifted your camisole, let him see your bare cunt the way he liked it that one time; the scent of your mango body butter wafting in the air, the sultriness of an August evening carrying that eccentricness right into his senses, readying him for what you were about to tell him.

And you began, casually, with every bite of the delicious food he made you. You got ahead of yourself, though, dumb by the intensity of adrenaline and arousal coursing in your veins. “I want you to dictate every move. And it’s up to you if you let him fuck me or not. My first idea from the start was—”

“I want you to tell me your full fantasy. What you touched yourself to. From the beginning ‘til the end.”

You fixed your mistake quickly.

“I dreamed about him watching us. You gave him rules. No touching. Hands on the armchair I wanted him to sit in. No talking. Then, I began with you letting him see what we’ve been doing. Loudly, vulgarly. Me playing with my pussy while you jerked off until you came all over me. Then you ate me out and wouldn’t stop until I begged you to fuck me. From behind. While you stretched my ass with a butt plug.”

“Did I talk? Like I do normally?”

“Yes. He heard it all. Every word you used. And I wanted you to do it to make him needy. Needy enough to beg you to let him fuck me.”

Yoongi only cursed. And you felt him hardening again under the soles of your feet. You caressed his ache with your toes.

“He thought the butt plug was used to stretch me for him, but it was for my pleasure, for decoration. You only let him pump your cum deeper into me. You didn’t let him come. And you held me from behind. Held me open for him in the air. And then he begged you for mercy. You gave in. Dropped me to the floor. And he fucked me ruthlessly, keeping me still on the floor with his thighs around me. He wasn’t able to last long. Begged you to let him come in me and you did. And then… then he ate me out. And so did you. At the same time. And I came so hard that I squirted. Then we took a shower. All three of us.”

“Did anything happen in the shower?” Quick, hard breaths, as if he was on the verge of an orgasm from your footjob.

And he proved to you, with a groan, that he was when you finished your story and his joggers dampened. “No, you both just held me. And we kissed like crazy.”

And it was this release of cum that drove him to make that phone call.

When Jungkook picks up on the first ring, Yoongi grabs his keys, blows you an air kiss and leaves. The joy that thrums in your heart is unlike any you’ve ever felt. You know where he’s gone. You know it fully well.

And in the meantime, you doll yourself up.

Hours later, he returns. With a grin blossomed on his face, one you haven’t seen since the day at the cabin, and a pink bag in his hand, one he hands you as soon as he takes off his shoes.

Inside you find the butt plug you dreamed of. Silver with a purple faux diamond in the middle. Fairly small, just the kind you’re certain you will be able to take. With a freebie of a much smaller packet of lube. To be safe playing out the fantasy.

Yoongi kisses you so hard when you look up at him that he steals all of your breath, ridding you of your chance to thank him.

“He’s coming over later.”

You kiss him, equally hard. Happy that he’s happy, happy to see movement in his healing journey. You give him tiny kisses, a hundred of them, and he breathes a laugh into your mouth, his joy filling you with energy and exhilaration. Finally, finally, finally—you’ve missed this emotion of his. Glad for the sadness, for the murkiness to be gone.

And you pray nothing gets in the way.

When Jungkook announces his arrival by knocking on the door, the sight you’re met with is quite uncanny. Though your heart isn’t stirred by it, bouncing in your chest like a small child seeing its father after a long, long time.

It’s been almost a month and he’s become older since the last time you saw him. His hair, grown longer and thicker, curls at his temples, ears and the nape of his neck. Round eyes have stayed the same, as well as the glint, and there’s a hint of the same joy that you’ve found in Yoongi, whirling in circles past it. Nose void of any blood, cheekbone healed from bruises. His demeanor is careful as if he had been punished enough by the fight and the silent treatment that followed it, taking off his shoes and his zipper hoodie, revealing a much bigger broadness of shoulders and arms, exposed in a tight fit of a black tank.

While Yoongi drowned his sorrow in alcohol and smokes and then came across his relief, his air in a sexual fantasy with his friend involved, he—the said friend—clearly found his coping mechanism in the gym.

He’s huge. As if he hadn’t already been from the military.

You lick your lips at him, and it’s such a natural reaction that you don’t even think about what you’ve done until you perceive that he doesn’t look at you at all. And it turns you on. It turns you on that he’s holding himself back from you. You know what hides beneath, what comes out when he lets go of his good boy persona.

Glancing at Yoongi, he’s already smirking at you with a playful gaze. Affected by his ignoring of you just the same. The shared connection thickens the energy around, but Jungkook breaks it.

He breaks it once he lifts his head, hangs his hoodie on the back of a chair and envelops you in a hug. Defaces your evident tendency to view him as an object, scribbles it in slashes until the ink runs out. All by a few strokes of his hand down your hair, down your back clothed in a new silky robe.

And when he withdraws from the hug, you see the healer that helped you become the person Yoongi needed on his journey.

His somber eyes skim over the long length of your nighttime attire, as if lamenting over the fact it’s not the red one. Over its dusty-pink color that parts the fabric to reveal your smooth leg and your toes. And then he’s gone, pulling your boyfriend in the same hug that lasts a bit longer, uttering silent words that should’ve been said that afternoon at the cabin with each increase of squeezes and pats within the hold.

You know they’ve said what they needed to hear during the phone call to mend what’s been broken. You feel a certain proudness of Yoongi for managing so well, for being at this very part of the journey. It’s praiseworthy.

“You hungry?”

Jungkook looks at you at last, imaginary puppy ears perking up at your question. And his eyes soften, wet with emotion from the reunion. He rubs his belly. “Starving.”

You shuffle your feet to make your way into the kitchen, but Yoongi beats you to it. Wave a hand towards the table, inviting him to sit and, out of habit, you pour some liquid courage into a shot glass for him from the bottle you keep there instead of a vase filled with flowers.

He merely glances at it. Doesn’t drink it.

“How have you been?” you ask, screwing the lid back on, not being able to take your eyes off of him—your entire history faintly blanketing your sight.

And he deepens the eye contact.

“How do you like your butt plug?”

Taken aback, you laugh, the atmosphere so airy all of a sudden that your cheeks flush and your lungs heave with affability. This is the friendship you had begged the heavens for. Without strings, without pain. Light-natured friendship, with flirtation in the middle. You find it hard to believe you have it. Find it hard to believe he’s here.

Find it hard to believe that when you had told Yoongi he could try again, he took your words and created this, embedding it into your fate.

“It’s pretty,” you say, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Jungkook smiles, fondly, fingers wrapping around the shot. You’re reminded, momentarily, of the way he teased you with the foot of his wine glass on your first dinner date.

As if thinking about that night, too, his other fingers sneak to your bare knee, tapping it once. “We picked it for you.”

You nod in feigned, exaggerated gratitude, even though you mean it, even though the thought of them choosing a sex toy for you makes you burst into flames from within. “Thank you, Oppa. Thank you so much. I will use it well.” And you bow to him with each word in your seat next to him.

Jungkook laughs and it’s such a sweet sound that you feel unfamiliar flowers growing in you, laughing along with him. He lays his palm flat on the entirety of your knee. Heavy, strong, warm. Then, he widens his eyes, as if he only now realized what you’ve called him. “You’re younger than me?”

You’ve guessed he was older than you. “I was born in 1999. I take it you’re around the same age as Yoongi?”

Not the same, entirely. You recall him calling Yoongi ‘hyung’. He must be a year or a few years younger.

That tenderness you know flashes in his face. “I was born in 1997. Yoongi is older than me.”

Your mouth opens in the shape of ‘O’. Jungkook’s eyes flick to it before he averts them, slapping the side of your thigh gently, sighing as if he held his breath the entire time. Only then does he down the shot you poured him, keeping his hand there.

Such a blessing, the simple act of getting to know him.

He slouches in his seat and you ask him again. “How have you been?”

Smacking his mouth, he roams his gaze along the perimeters of the dinner table. And you realize he’s avoiding the question. Avoided it the first time you launched it at him, too.

You fold your fingers under his palm on your knee, signaling your understanding and sympathy. Don’t want to think about the healing journey he had to walk through by himself. He’s reached the end and that’s the most important thing as of now. You caress his reddened, tattooed knuckles, smeared with flecks of violet and yellow—much like your bum that one afternoon—with your thumb, wondering how that tinge came to live there. “What happened to your hand?”

Jungkook contemplates your study of his hand, stoically, still as ever. Then, his mouth rounds, barely, in a tiny suggestion of sadness. Your heart catches it before it disappears, making it hers. In such a swift moment that you don’t realize what you’ve done.

“Boxing,” he murmurs, eyeing the way your hand is enclosed around his large palm, the way your thumb hovers over his knuckles, as if afraid to cause them any more pain. Seems touched by it and your brows knit, your heart speaking to you, telling you something, urgently, but you don’t understand her.

“You don’t wear boxing gloves?”

Jungkook shakes his head ‘no’. “Didn’t want to.”

And then it hits you—the language of your heart unfolding within you, deciphered at last. It hits you how you and him are very much alike.

This is his coping mechanism. Hurting his hand as he lets out his negative emotions. Knowing, just like you, that the pain is the gain, the relief. And by the state of the bruises, you were wrong. He’s not at the end of his healing journey—and he’s nowhere near the beginning. He traipses around it, steering clear of it, ignoring it.

Your lungs swell. And that motherly impulse you’re familiar with croons around them, extends towards him with the dutiful intention to heal.

And you will.

You will heal both of the males.

And the decision is strengthened even more in you when Jungkook hears Yoongi’s footsteps and startles, extracting his hand from your hold, from your thigh. Like he startled upon hearing your movement back then, scurrying towards your bag as if you were intending to leave him, abandon him.

It is your heart that weeps now for him, not your eyes, remembering the words Yoongi uttered over his bruised cheek and bloody nose. Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again. You try your hardest to remain strong on the outside. For him, for Yoongi, for yourself. You try your hardest to forget that declaration, that physical pain of his, considering it over—long gone, a lifetime away.

And when your boyfriend sets the full plates of food in front of him and he digs in wordlessly, you watch him. With a landslide in your insides. With a hand on his muscled arm, stroking back and forth, eyes flicked momentarily to Yoongi, willing him to see how broken his friend is.

But Yoongi can’t bear to see it.

He settles for a drink instead, fixing his gaze on the table. Takes a step back on his journey, his nerves pursuing him. And so he’s not alone, because it is your duty, you follow him into that rabbit hole like the Alice you are. With empty hands, void of any control, despite the onus you own in your heart.

By the time sex is even mentioned between the three of you, you’re tipsy and your head is swimming.

You’re conscious, aware of your body, aware of your surroundings and your home. Aware that you’re intoxicated, too, and it’s a peculiar feeling—to be present in your body and out of it just the same. And you owe it to the males sitting around the table. To the owner of the house, mainly.

Yoongi has taken such a dominant role naturally that he’s the reason why your head is taking laps in his energy. And it was him who put the topic of sex to the front after double meanings found their way into the gradually unfurling conversation, imbued with exuberance. Asked Jungkook straight away if he’d been sexually active with people after you, to which he merely shook his head ‘no’, too vulnerable to express it in his own words. You don’t think Yoongi even realized the gravity of the question, influenced by the alcohol, the lighthearted energy and the fact that he got his friend back. And Yoongi… he praised him for it, making his head lift in disbelief and coyness. You saw the way it healed him, brought color to his face— it happened so quickly, too quickly, Yoongi turning the leaf over right after, seamlessly leading the conversation back to the double meanings, working them up until you and Jungkook blushed.

But you didn’t listen entirely, and neither did Jungkook. You surveyed the way he turned the praise over in his mind, dwelling on it. And you knew, without a doubt, that, besides healing him—undoing the ugly words flung at him that day, it turned him on. He played with his bracelet in the air, a faint smile on his mouth, legs outstretched, touching yours, and you… you wanted to play with him, too. Your body begged you for it, telling you it’s time.

In fact, you knew very well what the little bit of alcohol Yoongi drank was doing to him. Much like Jungkook, it helped him avoid the matter of his friend’s sensitive burden at hand while collecting information. Especially about where he stands in the realm of the three of you and sex. And while you’ve let him do it, thinking it was something he needed to do on his journey, you've also been deciding for the last half an hour when it was time to put a stop to it. The sexual comments, the double meanings—it became too much, became too obvious, even though he, in most probability, wasn’t even aware of it, was doing it for you unconsciously. And your body agreed, whispering to you that the only way you could do that was to take advantage of what was right before you.

You were going to outrun your boyfriend and seduce them both.

You light up a cigarette, bringing Yoongi’s attention to you. You graze your foot on his shin as you cross your legs, lifting it higher until you reach his thigh. And when you take a long drag, you skim your hand on Jungkook’s knee, briefly—calling for his attention, too, preparing him. Your toe feels up Yoongi’s soft manhood and he stops talking, your hand trailing along the side of Jungkook’s thigh, inches away from his intimate parts. They let you touch them, both heads turned in your direction.

Stillness, arousing stillness. You smile, innocently.

Before Yoongi has the chance to scold you for interrupting him, you withdraw. You withdraw entirely. Pretend to take your cigarette to the balcony. Jungkook lifts his hand to grab yours, to put it back where it was, but you’re gone before you could take him up on it.

You feel both of them watching you as you leave. You sway your hips a little. It makes you chuckle. Makes you feel invincible.

You stay there but for a mere moment. Don’t even finish your cigarette before you put it out in the ashtray. And when you return, you undo the knot while they are preoccupied, unaware of you. Uncover the outfit you spent your money on while Yoongi healed.

A sheer, black crop top, with polka dots and puffed sleeves, that ties in the middle, ending beneath your breasts and adding nothing to the imagination. Could be mistaken for a wireless bra. Panties of the same tulle material with frills on the side. You leave your robe undone, the act of revealing yourself so casually stiffening your nipples. You consider taking a seat as if you did no such thing, but an idea pulls you to your boyfriend, who’s ignorant to your scheme, listening to something that Jungkook is telling him.

You don’t grasp any of the words coming out of his mouth, however you do focus on the deep intonation of his voice. Let it curl beneath your skin; propel you to act out on your whim.

You take a seat on Yoongi’s lap. Jungkook’s gaze falls on your intimate form, bare under the almost translucent fabric, and he parts his lips. He watches as Yoongi wraps an arm around your middle and smiles at the feeling of your bare skin. You rock your hips once, backwards, pretending you’re shifting to make yourself comfortable and Yoongi grips your waist until his fingers turn white. Jungkook doesn’t stop talking, hides his astonishment at your behavior, at your boldness. Doesn’t stop looking at you and neither do you at him, nodding to every other word as if you were listening. That is until you grab a handful of cheese balls and pop one by one into your mouth, purposefully letting one of them fall into your cleavage.

“Can you get it for me? My hands are full.”

You have a perfectly free hand by your side.

You’ve interrupted him so rudely that you’re surprised that he doesn’t frown at you, but smirks instead. Yoongi caresses your thigh, validating you, catching onto your scheme, and it spreads the fire that burst in you hours ago, making it bigger, hotter.

It’s time. You want both of them, badly.

You lean forward for him, fingers ready for the next move you’re planning. Jungkook lifts a hand, reaches for the orange treat in the middle of your breasts and before his digits have the time to grasp it, you pull on the loose knot on your top, your flesh spilling, the treat slipping onto the floor.

He only chuckles, deeply. Teased, but pleased.

“Oh, no.” Fake pity; fake pout. You look at the cheese ball, then back at Jungkook. Your impishness reflects in the blazing fire of his eyes, the same one that courses through your body. “I guess I didn’t tie it properly. Can you do it for me? My hand is dirty.”

You eat the last remaining cheese balls while staring him dead in the eye. Show him your orange-tinted fingers once you’re done. A spark flashes in the fire; piques his interest.

Leaning forward even more, Yoongi uses your position to slide your robe down your shoulders. Lifts you for a second to rid you completely of it, setting you back down sharply, causing your breasts to bounce. Throws it on Jungkook’s lap. A gesture that tells him playtime has begun. He sucks in a breath, biting his bottom lip, the way Yoongi gathers your hair in his fist stealing his attention fleetingly from you, fingers clutching the fabric.

And when he takes the swinging laces in his hands and barely tightens them, you click your tongue, disapprovingly. “Tighter.”

It arouses the beast in him, eyes lidding ever so slightly. He pulls on the laces until your breasts are squished together. “Like this?”

You wet your lips before you quirk them up. “Yes. Make a bow for me.”

Jungkook deepens the eye contact as he obeys. You lift your chin, asserting Yoongi’s dominance, taking after him, the inkling to own that beast in him absorbing you whole.

And you shall.

When he’s finished with the bow, he grazes the material of your top, fingers flat against your nipples before he slouches back in his chair. The touch was too brief for your liking, yet it spurs your cunt to soak your panties, the notion that you’ve done it intoxicating your senses—you’ve seduced him.

You mimic what he did, theatrically—you slouch back into Yoongi’s chest, turn your chin to the side to tell on him. “Yoongi, he touched me.”

Yoongi only smirks, playing along. “Did he? How? Show me.”

Your fingers fly to your pebbled nipples, stroking them in downward motion like he did before you repeat it. Again and again. Your hips begin to slowly rotate, your body reacting to your touch, to the pleasure you’re giving it. “Like this.”

Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat. He spreads his legs. You do, too. And when you whimper, he twitches, your robe slipping onto the ground, joining the cheese ball.

“Did it feel good? When he touched you there?” Yoongi asks, hands spreading across your thighs. You make a noise of agreement, whining into it. “Does it feel as good now?”

You shake your head ‘no’, meaning it. “No, it makes me needy.”

Yoongi hums. “Where?”

You cup the soaked material of your panties, right over your cunt with one hand, while the other squeezes your breast. “Here.”

Your boyfriend opens your legs wider, as if to take a closer look at what body part you’re showing him. “You should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“Like what?”

“Touch yourself.”

Jungkook stills. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. Neither do you.

“How?”

“I don’t know, maybe I should ask him,” he mumbles, fingers playing with the frills on your hips. “Do you want me to ask him?”

The asking of consent, beckoning out your slick. You nod your head. “Ask him, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Jungkook’s mouth is parted in an enigmatic manner, waiting��waiting to be given what your boyfriend long teased him with. And you like the suspense, the tension pulled so taut, the process before he’s gratified. It makes you even needier and, like Jungkook, you clutch the fabric of your panties in impatience.

Yoongi doesn’t ask right away. He tortures Jungkook until his lips lose their moisture. Dry, like a withered flower asking for the tiniest raindrop to refresh. And you want to give it to him. You’re leaking so much dewiness it is only right that he could get to drink it. You tuck that thought into your heart.

Yoongi hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and slowly, like your robe, drags them down as far as he can reach. Then, he lets them pool by your knees. “Take them off of her,” he commands in a hushed tone, fingers drifting to your waist, stopping by your mound and your stomach on the way. And it isn’t until Jungkook rids you fully of the wet undergarment that he finally asks: “How should she touch herself?”

Jungkook crumples it in his fist, tightly enough that white comes into view across his colorful knuckles upon the denim of his jeans. And among other things, his breath hardens. Gazes into your eyes as he says to Yoongi, “Tell her to lift her legs, lick her fingers and rub her princess parts until it feels good.”

He’s tuned in into the role-play. You think about how you wanted to turn off your brain for him when he had told you to not think that he’d ever get sick of you. How you wanted to keep it stupid for him.

You know that if you were to do that, if you were to let go—that he’d put you under his spell again, but you’re not letting that cave in on you. Because when Yoongi imparts the instructions to you and you lift your leg, propping your foot on Jungkook’s thigh, saliva-coated fingers finding your clit, you feel a sliver of something indescribably exhilarating.

Jungkook moans at the first few careful circles. And it’s him who becomes hypnotized.

It’s your green light to play the role of a stupid, innocent girl—in the hands of two very experienced, aroused men. Seduced, more like. You pat yourself on the back, mentally.

And the proud feeling of your achievement, the feeling of his vigorous and ardent observance of your pleasured cunt, of the tendril of the profound reminiscence that sweeps in as if he truly missed the sight of her—it all incites you to speed up your movement. To consciously immerse yourself deeper in the role, in the pretending. You figure it should work like this; you won’t get submerged in the water of the hypnosis if you remain in control, clinging to it with all your might. Not if Jungkook is the one spellbound this time.

You feel your orgasm drawing closer at that thought, breathing against your body.

“Am I doing it right?”

Jungkook sneaks a hand around your ankle, hard breaths puffing out of his still parted mouth, cheeks full of vibrant color, eyes dazed—so awfully dazed and fixed on your cunt, on the sheen of your arousal splattered on your folds. Then, he licks his lips, slouches further in his seat after he moves his chair to be more in line with you. Horny, curious puppy, needing to see the full view; your work of art. Yoongi’s soft chuckle rumbles against your scalp and you realize he’s been watching him this entire time, studying him—assessing the situation meticulously.

“Is she doing it right?” Yoongi asks and you can hear the smirk coating his voice. Jungkook’s other hand, with the panties still clutched, wraps around his hard length, brows furrowing and you whine at the sight, but Yoongi tuts, disapproving. “No touching.”

Jungkook lifts his hand and so do you—to stall your orgasm, the principle of Jungkook obeying so easily almost throwing you over the edge. You breathe heavily, a tingly sensation swarming within your skin, a certain string of words rising on your tongue.

You turn your head towards Yoongi. Dart out your tongue to lick swiftly at his bottom lip before you kiss him. Yoongi hums, pleased. “Tell him he’s a good boy.”

Another similar sound, one that makes you smile. You drift a hand towards the back of his head, fingers sinking into the dark length of his hair. Yoongi purrs, blinking down at you like rose petals fluttering—you feel as though you were at the very beginning, living through the moment you learned Jungkook’s name, as if no pain, no murkiness never settled upon the three of you. You don’t know how it makes you feel and you hardly want to decipher it; you gravitate towards enjoying yourself more, thoughts and feelings pushed to the side.

“He is, isn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs, taking your arm gently in his hand and joining it to your other one around the back of his head, then he roams his back, takes his time, until he plants it upon your cunt. You spasm at the long-awaited contact. “He listens well. So out of it, the poor thing forgot to speak. Maybe we should help him with that, don’t you think?” Poor thing. Your hole clenches, drooling with your dewiness and you groan, the aspect of Jungkook being degraded like this, after he dominated both of you the last time, making you utterly, utterly feral.

At your noise, Yoongi begins to play with your slippery folds, pressing them together with his fingers flat on each side—not touching your pussy, but pleasuring her nonetheless. You give him more at each squeeze he bestows on your clit, elated that he’s touching her after such a long time, elated that he’s able to.

It is, undeniably, working like this. Your heart thrums with elation. Happy it has come to this, happy it’s different this time—happy that both parties are happy.

Not wishing to lose the momentum, you gaze at Jungkook. At the light cascading dimly from his lip ring—that pink, puffy, dry mouth that you long to kiss, that you long to feel on your bundle of nerves. His eyes seem to grow in size at your attention and you’re so touched to witness something like that. You need to ride his face; you need to watch those eyes roll back. You can see his need to take charge, to tell both of you what to do by his irregular breaths, clenched fists and bulging muscles, veins so prominent that you do well not staring at them at all—but he subdues that need, perhaps for you, perhaps for Yoongi. Both possibilities graze your feelings with such fondness that he’s putting himself last, prioritizing the hard truth: you’re not his, not in the sexual ambiance of your time spent together, not even in the lasciviousness of your daydreams.

You’re Yoongi’s and he’s the boss, one he should’ve been since the beginning. And that’s the core of the difference. The key that makes this work.

Covering your mouth, you spill your idea of how you should help Jungkook speak into Yoongi’s ear while keeping your eyes on his round ones. He aches to be let in on it, to know, but you don’t allow him that satisfaction. In fact, when you beam at Yoongi once you withdraw, it’s more of a provocation directed towards the puppy than an expression of your true joy.

“Yes, fuck yes,” Yoongi agrees, orbs aglow by the idea, by something that you can only pin down to a feeling of safety within the environment. He feels safe. Feels comfortable. Feels okay—more than okay by the hardening length against your bum, by the moonbeams flecking across his irises, by the extension of his index finger to your clit, which makes you freeze, stop breathing altogether. “But I want to make you come first. Can I?”

You peck him, deeply, to seal that package of positive feelings in him, to seal that sense of safety and comfort. Nod a million times. “Yes, please, baby. I need it.”

Yoongi coos at the pet name, at your willing submissiveness to him and expression of neediness. Nudges his nose against yours. “Need what?”

You giggle softly. Happy, so awfully happy. “I need you to make me come,” you say, but your words are muffled by the way he skims his mouth over yours, and you don’t think over the next words directed to the other male that tumble out of you. “You want to watch?”

A stupid, stupid question because he’s been watching this entire time, although it breaks something. Breaks the invisible wall between you, Yoongi and him—breaks his coyness as he sets your foot down and leans forward, smiling fondly. “I’d be happy to watch. Honored.”

It breaks the unspoken, unseen tension. Breaks the past. Breaks the hurt. And the difference, now validated, made beautiful by his smile, sinks in, spreads across the atmosphere surrounded by the three of you. The sense of safety and comfort now sails over into Jungkook’s pores, slipping inside. And you could burst now. Burst with your joy.

The afternoon spent in the cabin dissolves.

You didn’t expect that to happen.

Yoongi feels it—and you feel him feel it by the trembling breaths he takes against your back. And even though you went into the rabbit hole with him with empty hands, now you hold healing in them. A warm round body of light, heavy and thick, ready for them both. Yoongi might have talked Jungkook’s head off and drank until his nerves eased and was able to escape them, but now he’s eligible to take the light. Jungkook is, too, now that he’s given you his consent for the dynamic to be different. A certain kind of glorious satisfaction envelops you in glow, ridding you of any intoxication and you’re bare. Vulnerable, horny and so tremendously bright. Filled with flowers, filled with love, filled with a delicious, selfish taste of control.

You want to kiss Jungkook, but you recognize right away that there’s a time and a place for that, one that is not appropriate now. You stifle your craving, wiggle your hips to let Yoongi know you want him to begin.

You brim with the need to forget now and just enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself at the hands of your long-awaited desire, now boundless, now right, now different. And you break the crumbles of the wall, the hurt and the past when you tell them. “I want us to forget about the last time and enjoy where we are right now. Can we do that?”

Although you don’t know the contents of the long conversation they had in private about this, you’re glad you’ve said it out loud. Glad it’s out of your chest. Glad for the kiss Yoongi plants on your temple. Glad for Jungkook’s hand encasing yours. Even if that’s the only way they communicate their agreement.

Out with the old, in with the new.

And Jungkook keeps holding your hand when Yoongi begins to rub your clit. He tightens his hold, in fact, at the first twist of your features, at the relief intermingling, despite the fact he knows nothing about how this is the first time Yoongi touched you like this since forever ago. His hand feels much more different than yours, much more nimble and much quicker. And the pleasure that floods your body is more about that than it is about the stimulation. A wish pricks at you, a wish to tell him, but you don’t let it get near you, not when you know the time for that is long, long gone, not when forgetting is supposed to take place now because the new is here.

You push those thoughts entirely away. The thoughts of there being a certain forever ago, a certain past along with it, too.

And then Yoongi hums and the sound sweeps it far, far away from you.

He pinches your nipple. Finds it’s not enough and forces your top open, undoing the bow, baring you to his and Jungkook’s eyes. Joins his other hand to knead both of your full breasts, but you whine, needing him elsewhere. Yoongi chuckles, listening to you—drifting his hand immediately back down to your clit, resuming his swift circles.

Jungkook salivates. Makes no indication of being in demand of participation. Merely wipes at the corners of his mouth while his other hand squeezes yours in a tight, clammy hold. Light protrudes from his eyes, akin to the one you still own, cooling the sweat layering upon your body. No darkness of arousal, none whatsoever, only the chocolate brown of his irises, vibrant, mesmerized and absolutely affectionate.

Newness, you breathe it in and exhale a moan. Yoongi changes direction. Moves from circles to side to side, angling your body so he can give it his all. You feel the incoming pressure of your orgasm and you ready yourself for it, squeezing your eyes shut. And when he decides to alternate, so quickly that you lose track of it, it is your ultimate undoing.

Mainly when Yoongi curtly slaps your clit, transferring you back to the very beginning of your story, rooting you there. You come so hard that you fall apart.

Tears fly out of you, but you laugh—and the sound is broken by a deep moan from your chest caused by pure, boundless euphoria. Yoongi prolongs your orgasm, keeps strumming your clit, purring onto your mouth and you open your eyes to witness his devotion to it, to your pleasure. Brows furrowed, eyes lidded, pouty mouth. Adamant on making you feel as good as—

It triggers another orgasm. A softer, mellow one. And the string of noises you let out are of the same dulcet nature. Yoongi swallows them, groaning, fondling your pussy, patting her gently, making you tremble, woozy, giddy and so incredibly girly.

“That was so good,” he whispers, caressing you everywhere and you nod, a million times. You’ve missed him, terribly.

You give him a nasty kiss full of tongue, aware of what’s happened and of what’s next just the same.

Yoongi perches on the floor, knees on either side of yours as you crawl towards Jungkook’s lap. He leans back, a surprised grin appearing on his flustered face. And it hits him like a ton of bricks when you pop his button open and drag down the zipper of his jeans. Your words that follow, too.

“Off. Everything.”

“You want to suck me off?” A calm bewilderment coats his voice, such a heavy oxymoron for him to bear when he was fine with just watching.

You smile at him briefly before you wet your lips, eager to make happen what he can’t believe you’re willing to do for him. “I knew it would get you talking.”

An airy laugh. So endearing to your hearing sense. He cradles your chin for a mere beat of time. “You’re so smart.” He takes off his tank, revealing his enormous pecs adorned with a long but dainty silver chain that you crave to have swinging in your face, that steals your attention from the dose of validation he gave you.

But when Yoongi leaves, your heart sinks in panic.

Only to hoist it back up when you realize he went to fetch the gift he bought you, along with a bigger tube of lube from your bedroom. Your body tremors and it’s both of the males that try to alleviate it. Yoongi, who settles back behind you, fondling the skin of your bare bum. Jungkook, who turns you to look at him, nodding once to let you know everything’s okay.

You release a breath, but you can’t hide the shakes.

Jungkook strokes your brow. A tender touch that drives you to believe him. Yes, everything’s okay. The past is gone. Healing is contained in the conscious reminders. The light in your hands flutters, calling out to you, and you press it over that heft of your wandering heart.

It’s you who alleviates the tremors.

And when you take off your top, Jungkook follows suit, ridding himself of his jeans.

To distract your mind from hurling false thoughts at you, you finally allow yourself to look at his hard length—still, disappointingly clothed. Thick. You can almost feel the memory of him, the heaviness of him, when he had you pressed against him by the pond. The first time you touched him. You groan, softly. “Off.”

Jungkook coos, patting you on the cheek with his finger. “So eager.”

He paints a smile on your face with that brush of his digit. “Be a good boy and listen.”

Without taking his eyes off of you, he swears. Pulls his manhood out, tugs his boxers a few inches down and you bite back a gasp, a moan and something in between. Red, swollen tip, the petal of a sun-kissed rose, little thick veins enveloping the girth. He keeps his balls covered to tease you. “Like this, Mommy?”

You glare at him and it’s Yoongi’s second-hand embarrassment laughter that smooths out your features, contagious to such a great extent that when you look back at him to see him pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed and crinkly, you burst into the same laughter, lungs expanding, exhaling all that heft and momentary residue of panic until there’s nothing negative left.

It even radiates Jungkook. He laughs so much that his cock bounces, which deepens your giggles and you hide your face in your hands.

And when the conveyance of joy simmers, another tender tears rush out of your tear ducts. Good tears. You’re so content with life shared with the two males that you can’t help but be emotional. You shield those tears behind the premise of your laughter. They’re private—just yours. The final conclusion of the dark side.

Yoongi skims his fingers across your tiny hole. Back to business.

You tug Jungkook’s boxers all the way down and you lift his ankle to rid him completely of them. Mimic the way he did it to you. You even think about keeping them. Think about how this is exactly how it should be—recollecting only the good parts of the story, the light side while letting the dark one go. Jungkook sees it on your face and he lets you decide.

You don’t have to think twice.

You fling his underwear on the chair you sat on. Jungkook caresses your hair in response and you smile at him. Yoongi leans over you, fists your hair and pushes you toward Jungkook’s cock. At the sight, the puppy swears.

“Spit on it. Make it nice and wet for him,” Yoongi orders and there’s slyness to your ever persisting smile when you gather your saliva and do exactly as he says.

At the first contact of your liquid love, Jungkook swears again and there’s no stopping to that litany of vulgar words when you, just like him, swirl it around the top of his head with the tip of your tongue without taking your gaze off of him. It’s at this movement of yours that a flashback gleams across his still round, tender eyes for a split second. Now he remembers, now you’ve pulled him back to the place you didn’t even realize that you did.

Yoongi guides you to wrap your mouth around him and Jungkook loses it.

The suction of your cheeks, the eye contact, the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue, Jungkook rolls his eyes back before he whisks them back to you, not able to miss one moment of the pleasure you give him. Yoongi pushes your head back and forth and when it dawns upon you that there’s nothing else for you to do but to keep your mouth open while Yoongi does all the work, you moan. And like Jungkook, you can’t stop.

You feel Yoongi’s lips at your ear. “You think you can take him all the way?”

The mewl that comes out of you is the only agreement you can manage to give him. Yoongi groans, kissing your earlobe before he licks it, nibbles on it, taking his mouth to the skin beneath, causing your eyes to narrow. Your pussy drenches, throbs and your hand automatically flies to her. You rub yourself slowly to gain a hint of relief, bobbing your head up and down, tongue feeling up the thick veins along his girth and you whine so desperately—enough for Yoongi to check what was the cause of it.

He draws back. Finds you touching yourself. Clicks his tongue and chuckles in absolute appreciation. He likes what he sees. Pushes your head until your nose swipes past Jungkook’s minimal pubic hair and only when you gag does he let you breathe—does he let you play with his tip on your own. “Mommy is playing with her needy cunt.”

The curse word that wafts in the air is singular, coming out of your and Jungkook’s mouth simultaneously. There’s no laughter this time. Just thick arousal spreading across the room, dizzying all of your senses. Jungkook is breathless and the look you share is desperate, unspoken but so, so vivid. You take him in your free hand and jerk him off, reveling in the feeling of his veins. You give him all of your whiny moans, straightening up, your fingers sneaking to your hole. Eyes narrowing, mouth open, the sounds of your slick saliva in your tight grasp so obscene, so stimulating that when you begin to finger yourself and Yoongi latches his lips onto your neck, you know you’ll be coming in mere, pathetic minutes.

Jungkook leans forward a little bit to watch you stuffing yourself full. Bites his lip, closes his eyes when you tighten your grip around his head. And you do it again and again to coax his moans and he willingly supplies you with them. Opens his eyes and the look he gives you stops time. “So good. So fucking good.”

You yearn to kiss him and he does, too. You twist your wrist and he loses himself for a moment. That alone speeds up the coming of your orgasm. Your body flares with heat, your fingers picking up their speed instinctually and Jungkook angles his head to kiss you—

You push him back. To tease him, to make him more desperate because it pleases you and Jungkook smirks at you, gripping your panties in his fist. Hiding your own, you lick him all over and get to the undiscovered part you want the most.

You mouth his full balls. Whimper against them. Hot flashes fill your sight at the scent of him, even more so when Jungkook inhales your sounds and emits the same ones. “Fuck, sweetheart, oh fuck, yes, like that.” Takes your hand and busies it, wrapping it around his length. You spasm at the pet name, at the warmth that seeps into your skin from him.

It’s him who guides you now. Yoongi merely watches, in awe, wet fingers rubbing circles on your tiny hole, preparing you. “That’s it, honey, make him come.”

You’re so overwhelmed by your task that you withdraw your fingers from your heat, though Yoongi is quick to replace his. And the speed he establishes, you mimic it on Jungkook’s length and he grunts at the contact of your dewiness on him. You twists your wrists, fucking yourself back on Yoongi’s fingers. Bore your gaze into Jungkook’s. Hard, hard breaths, quickening lifts of his chest, he struggles to reciprocate your eye contact, the rhythm so beautiful so seamless, working so well.

And when you wrap your lips around him and suck him with fast bobs, he comes.

You open your mouth, yearning to feel him paint your face. Quick to grip his balls to feel them emptying out for you and you milk his cum out of him, jerking him off until his ropes smear on the corners of your lips, hot and thick. Yoongi pulls out his fingers, latches them onto your hip. “Stick out your tongue.”

You do as he says, in time to catch the last rope landing onto the muscle. You hum, swallowing, watching the tension screwing his features and the relief unweaving it as his orgasm reaches the end. Winded, dumbfounded, gruntled. A lovely sight to behold.

Jungkook’s grip loosens on your panties. And with his other hand, he feeds you his cum. Swipes his fingers from your cheek onto your mouth, plunging it inside. Yoongi kisses the side of your face, gripping your neck to hold your head steady for Jungkook, allowing him to finish the job.

You swallow everything, the taste of him suffused with mild earthiness, with tanginess and the tiniest hint of sweetness. Liquid candy, just for you. You allow him to see how much you enjoyed that, but it’s Yoongi first to whom you show that you’ve swallowed everything.

Your boyfriend beams at you. “Well done, honey.” He kisses you hard, licking into your mouth, and the thought of him tasting the residue of Jungkook numbs your senses entirely. “You did so well.”

You’re panting when he withdraws and when you look at Jungkook, there’s a moment of stillness when you take in the thundering turmoil rushing inside him. You don’t have to guess what’s behind it. Jungkook voices it. “Let me kiss her, please.”

Such a soft murmur, charged with so much desperation. You break at the sound of it, gripping his hand, furrowing your brows, ready to give him anything he wants, boundlessly. Your heart thuds and it only takes one look at Yoongi and he folds, too.

Nods.

You thought he’d kiss you from the position you’re in, but Jungkook stands to his feet, grabbing you along with him, picking you up like a child by sliding his hands under your armpits. And when he presses you against him and kisses you hungrily with fast pecks, breathing hard, you discern how illogical it was for him to call you Mommy.

Even though he can listen like a good boy, it’s merely a role, one he plays for you, for Yoongi, one that fragments with each kiss. Who he truly is the reversal of it.

He’s Daddy. Undeniably.

You’ve never been keen for titles. You and Yoongi never used them, never felt the need for it, hence why you both laughed when it came up. But the more you kiss him, the more you sense it. The awakening dominance, the tendril of fatherliness that spirals around you, the deserved respect he emanates. It turns you on to the point that you find yourself wondering what else is there beneath the shadows of your undiscovered sexuality.

The feeling of his warm skin against yours, his still hard manhood against your stomach, the provocation of the lip ring, the softness of his mouth slowing down and prolonging the kiss—fuck. How much more can you possibly get aroused? He empties out your brain, but you’re calm, not panicked by it at all. And to stay conscious, to stay in control, you wrap your hand around him again.

He hisses, breaking the kiss, grasping your hand. “Too sensitive. Sorry. I came so hard.”

You coo, pecking him deeply, squeezing his broad shoulders. “It’s okay.”

When you turn around to give your attention to Yoongi, you find him deep in thought, fixed on Jungkook. “Remember how she came when you kissed her? At the cabin?”

Your heart speeds up. Not due to fear or anything of the sort, but due to excitement. You know where he’s heading with this.

“Hard to forget,” Jungkook murmurs and it thrums beneath your skin, spreading wide.

“She came multiple times when I made her think about that,” Yoongi starts and you can’t halt the smile growing on your lips. A tiny whirl of shyness mingles with the words coursing through your bloodstream. “It’s what we did. I made her imagine that you were kissing her, eating her out while she touched herself. And now I want you to give it to her. Give it to her good. Better than she was able to imagine.”

Sharp inhale of breath. You want to see his reaction to your secret—but then hands. Clammy hands on your hips, nose nuzzling in your hair. “Who’s gonna be in control when I do that?”

Your eyes widen, pulse quickening to the point that it troubles you.

And Yoongi looks at you when he answers his question, “You. It’s me who’s gonna watch now.”

BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi smut #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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gretavanbrie · 8 months

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Landslide // finale (J.T.K.)

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember, does he feel the same?

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Warnings: big angsty boy! smut (minors DNI!!), and tooth rotting fluff…like sickening how fluffy honestly, smooching and heavy on the pet names. established friendship, alcohol consumption, mentions of alcohol consumption, feelings of heartbreak, long talks, sadness, arguing, feelings of unrequited love, very brief feelings of abandonment, mentions of break ups, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), veryyy light impact play, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation if you squint, squirting, praise kink, crying kink, sir kink, reconciliation. If I missed any lmk!! (Vaguely proof read, excuse any mistakes)

A/N: here is part three since part two had to get split in half, lmk ur thoughts!

Part 1 | Part 2

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you said softly, staring as his chest heaved up and down.

“Y/n..” he said with apologetic eyes.

Your heart clenched at the thought of it all. Upon seeing him so disheveled on your doorstep it reignited the hurt he had burned into you. His harsh tone, the angry look in his eye when you tried your best to be supportive, the embarrassment of thinking he was going to tell you he feels the same only to be let down. And ultimately, how easy it was for him to shut you out after almost 20 years of friendship.

“..no.. no, you can’t just do that.” You whispered closing your eyes, shaking your head as if when you opened them again he would be gone.

“Y/n..can we talk? Please?” He asked, voice low and desperate.

“You’ve never- we’ve never done that Jacob. I’ve been waiting to fucking hear from you for almost two fucking weeks and you just randomly show up on my doorstep?” your voice cracked and you stopped to compose yourself before the actual waterworks showed through.

You were usually very emotionally open with Jake, as was he, but this was all new for you. He had never been so absent, let alone after being so mean and you were not going to show him how badly it had actually affected you.

“I-i know… okay? I know that. Just please, I want to apologize…” he said, eyes boring into your own waiting for the invitation inside. You studied his face in hesitation before reluctantly stepping to the side and letting him in.

He hadn’t been inside your house since before the tour. The warm lighting, the plethora of plants, the old records and classic literature that littered your shelves, the thrifted rugs and furniture, especially your old acoustic that was rarely played was all too familiar.

Seeing your place again after so long, after not speaking to you, was almost too much. You were so engraved into his daily life he forgot just how comforting everything about you was for him. He genuinely missed you and seeing his favorite place that was littered with every part of you after you so long had reminded him of how important you are and how foolish it was for him to just leave you in the cold because some girl made him feel even the smallest fraction of what you so easily do for him.

You shut the door behind him as you watched his eyes scan over everything. He was supposed to come over after the welcome party and help you re-string your guitar. He always did it for you ever since you told him you wanted to start playing, he knew you’d get bored of it but he re-stringed it for you without fail just in case you ended up wanting to play it more often.

You knew when his gaze lingered on it a little too long that he was having an onrush of emotion. You guys had never ignored each other, you two have been attached at the hip since before you could ride a bike. This was out of the norm for you guys and you had completely dismissed his feelings in this as well.

“..you can sit y’know’’ you spoke quietly. No matter how angry you were, you wanted him to know he didn’t have to be a stranger in a home he's stepped foot in so many times.

He swiftly turned to look at you, you caught his eyes and there was a gleam of… Adoration? Regret? You couldn’t place your finger on it and you still had wine in your system, you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“Are you mad at me?” He whispered. Jake knew the answer and even he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for with the question. Somewhere deep down he was hoping you weren’t, he was hoping there was still a chance of fixing what he so foolishly broke.

“Are you seriously gonna ask me that? We’ve been friends for twenty years. I mean since we still had baby teeth and you're gonna ask if I'm mad you ignored me for two weeks after you blew up on me?” You said now pissed.

Jake looked defeated, hearing you say twenty years put everything into perspective for him. You guys were almost thirty and he couldn’t believe he so easily blew up on you and shut you out like that, it was immature.

The fallout freshman year of high school was so petty that neither you or Jake could remember the reason for the fight. You guys were also fourteen and rehashed it two days later, there was no reason for you both to be twenty-seven and ignoring each other for two weeks.

“You’re right.. you're right. I’m so sorry.” He said stepping towards you in hopes of grabbing your hand in his, instead you just turned and went to sit on your couch.

“What did I do, Jake? I don’t know what I could’ve done to for you to be so…mad at me. In the entirety of our friendship you’ve never spoken to me like that.” You say avoiding his gaze as he moves to sit next to you on the couch. He shifted his body towards you and his stare was almost begging you to look at him. You were scared to look in his eyes too long, for your resolve would crumble.

“Nothing. You did absolutely nothing and I hate that I made you feel like you did. If I could go back and take it all back I would. I was jus— i was being stupid. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that sunshine.” Hearing your nickname after so long brought you to meet his own sad eyes.

Your gaze softened and your tough exterior crumbled exactly how you thought it would. He was your best friend, he knew every part of you and you knew you guys would be back and better than ever sooner or later but you also didn’t want this to end up back in the same cruel reality you’ve been living in; loving him in silence.

You didn't just wanna go back to being friends. You were too old now to keep suppressing that part of yourself, you wanted all of him. You wanted the romantic parts of Jake. You wanted domesticity, you wanted sexual tension, you wanted it all and you wanted it with him.

Inevitably you’d give in to him regardless, friend or not, and that’s what hurt the worst of it all.

“So then why did you do it?” You quietly asked. He looked down in deep thought, like he was contemplating giving you the real reason or beating around the bush. Jake was terrified of scaring you off if you somehow didn't feel the same. He wanted you back in his life, not to push you away from him again.

“I suppose I just got too in my head and convinced myself you were unhappy for me. I um.. asked Laura to be my girlfriend on impulse and I think I projected my regret onto you. It’s not right, at all. And I am in no means trying to excuse my behavior…just an explanation I guess” he said, avoiding the full truth.

He didn’t think it was the right time to tell you the real reason he projected so badly was because he caught a glimpse of your love for him and it made him realize he wanted you and only you.

You had never seen Jake so unsure of himself. You saw how truly regretful he was and it kind of made you feel bad. You looked at him and you saw his inner child that had grown up alongside yours trying to be a sensible man. You saw the struggle in his eyes, Jake had a harder time processing emotions than you and you were always a guiding hand. Now that you had been apart, you saw how lost he seemed.

“Y/n I don’t think there are enough words in any language to express how sorry I am..” You had to tear your eyes away from his own before you started crying.

You reminded yourself he is a person outside of your friendship with him and it isn’t wrong of him to make a mistake. He had never treated you like this before so it wasn’t necessarily a pattern. It was the heat of the moment and he's expressing his genuine remorse to you. No matter how bad you wanted to, you don’t have it in you to stay mad at him.

“We’ve never gone that long without talking, you shut me out like it was so easy for you.. a-and Sam. I wanna apologize for leaving you guys, I do. I’m sorry for just ditching you all.. I got overwhelmed but you guys texting me like that was a low fucking blow Jake.” You scolded him.

Jake grimaced at the reminder of him and Sam's drunk texts.

“You don’t have to apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for. I made you feel unwelcome when I shouldn’t have. I didn't mean it.. and it certainly wasn't easy y/n. I was drunk and mad at myself, I thought pushing you away would kind of make whatever’s going on up here a bit easier..” he said gesturing to his head.

“…it just made everything worse. And then when I woke up the next day I didn't know how to reach out and I was scared of what you might say” He continued, voice weak. You sat quiet for a moment processing your thoughts before speaking again.

“Listen.. I'm still hurt honestly that you left me in the dark that long. I was waiting for you to apologize for two weeks, Jake. I got nothing but radio fucking silence. I don’t want to not be friends with you, I want things to go back to normal but we’re adults now and I feel like you should’ve handled it like one.” It was a bit harsh granted he was openly communicating his regret but him telling you not to bother reaching out was far more crass.

“I’m sorry.. that was mean. I could’ve said that nicer but I still stand by my point.” You continue.

“You don’t have to apologize, I know what I did was wrong and I'm fully willing to bear the consequences.” Jake said.

“You can say I don’t have to but I want to, it was a welcome home party and I should’ve stayed regardless of my feelings. I don’t want to keep fighting with you anymore, this is weird for us” you let a small laugh escape your lips at the insanity of it all. He chuckled alongside you as he looked down at his tattered boots.

“C’mere..” you whispered standing up. He followed suit as you opened your spare closet and pulled out the guitar kit Jake had made for you.

“I know it’s getting a bit late but I think all the spare wire you gave me is still in there, do you still wanna help me string my guitar?” You smiled up at him nervously.

Jake's heart melted at the sight. The eyes he loved no longer tainted with the sadness he caused and instead sparkling as you stared up at him with the kit he made for you in your hands. The fact that you had even remembered that he would rather do it for you than anyone else had made him far more enamored.

“I would love to.” he smiled, a real Jake smile. One that you had missed dearly.

He grabbed the box from your hands kicking his shoes off. He grabbed your acoustic and made himself comfortable on your couch laying it across his lap. The way he so casually spread his legs and laid it on himself sent the blood rushing to your head and made you weak in the knees. You had never been jealous of a guitar until now.

“Jesus, how long has it been since you played this thing? There are strings missing” he laughed, breaking you from your impure thoughts.

“Yeaaah i couldn't tell ya, i tried to tune it and they popped on me. You might’ve been the last to play it actually..’ you said, standing up to put on a record for some background noise.

Jake didn't care if it was starting to get late or if he hadn’t checked his phone in over an hour, he was here, with you, and he never wanted to leave this bubble you guys created. Things felt normal despite the nasty fallout between you both. It felt right to be with you again and he wasn't gonna let it slip through his fingers this time.

“I played this way before I left for tour, you’ve just been letting this baby collect dust?” He feigned a look of hurt.

“I’m no Jake Kiszka, you know. I psych myself out” you joked, smiling as you sat beside him.

“This Jake guy seems to know his stuff..” he chuckled.

“..yea, I’d say he’s pretty cool” you shrugged bringing your knees to your chest.

“Thank you for hearing me out.” Jake chimed as a few beats of silence enveloped the both of you. He snipped one of the wires before looking at you for confirmation that you heard him.

“Thank you for apologizing… was starting to worry” you nervously giggled trying to lighten the mood.

“What do you say we crack open a bottle of wine and celebrate.” He said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“What are we even celebrating?” You smiled at him.

“I don’t know, I just feel like we never really had a proper chance to. I kinda screwed things up.” Jake nervously laughed.

“Plus you’ve got a good record going, I know you’ve got some wine stashed away. Grab me a glass, won't you darling?” He smiled as his sentence ended in his familiar English accent.

“Oh why of course sir.” You replied, going along with the bit.

As you stood up to open the bottle you had stashed away, Jake couldn't help but smile to himself.

He missed this, he missed you.

Everything felt right, being here with you on your couch fixing up your guitar. He couldn’t believe he was willing to throw it away for some random girl. He didn’t have to hide his true personality around you, you embraced him for who he was with open arms.

He’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.

You only poured him a glass since you had been drinking all day and your mind was still a little hazy. When you returned to him with the bottle but only one glass he stared at you inquisitively.

“I drank a lot today, I gotta give myself a break.” You smiled.

“Ahhh that’s right” he chuckled, grabbing the glass. He thanked you before taking a sip and setting it on the coffee table.

“What do you mean that’s right?” you mocked as you looked at him in astonishment.

“You don’t remember the voice message?” He looked at you with amusement painted across his face. You however, looked horrified.

“Voice message?!? It must’ve been before I fell asleep…” you trailed off, eyes bouncing around the room as you tried to gather the memory. You quickly remembered everything as your cheeks warmed from the embarrassment. You shyly covered your face as you recalled your drunk call.

“Sorry.. i just had a lot to drink and one thing led to anoth—“

“It’s cute. Don’t apologize, I don’t think I would’ve been here tonight without it” he cut you off looking down to tune the guitar as he had finished restoring the strings.

Your heart fluttered at him calling you cute.

You felt a new energy linger between the both of you as you watched him gently pluck at each string. The way his brow furrowed when the tune didn’t sound quite right on a string. The way he softly wet his lips and left his mouth slightly parted in concentration made you want to jump his bones right there. Whatever it was, you liked it and you didn’t want him to stop.

“..cute, huh?” You softly teased, smiling at him. You watched as his cheeks turned crimson, you had made him nervous and you secretly liked it.

“You know what I meant, sunshine.” He smiled, continuing his task.

“But pour yourself a glass, at least just one…and cheers me” Jake said, hopeful eyes looking into your own.

“Are you peer-pressing me just so I can cheers you? Did those dare assemblies teach you nothing?” You replied sarcastically.

“If that's what you wanna call it then yes.” He said matter-of-factly.

You just laughed before obliging and opting for just one more glass to end the day. You poured the wine as Jake set the guitar down, picking up his own glass. He waited as you got situated before raising his glass to cheer.

“To being friends!” Jake cheered.

The statement just made your heart sink and you questioned what you were even doing. Your expression fell and your shoulders immediately slumped. You vowed to stop sacrificing that part of yourself for him and here you are, doing just that. Jake noticed your change in demeanor and your glass still level with your chest not clinking against his own.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, lowering his glass and setting it on the table.

The question triggered something in you because something is wrong and always has been wrong.

You have failed to admit it to yourself for years and are you about to blurt it out on a random night after your guy’s biggest argument yet? You didn't know. You were confused and embarrassed that your mood has switched so fast upon hearing a single sentence.

“I’m sorry…” you said as you let a tear quietly slip. You wiped you face before taking a sip of your wine and setting the glass down.

“A-are those happy tears?” Jake nervously smiled, cocking his head to the side; not sure of how to comfort you.

“I can’t— I can’t keep loving you in silence, Jake.” You whispered, covering your face in your hands momentarily. The onrush of emotion was becoming overwhelming.

The room fell silent and the buzzing of the record coming to an end had also come to a halt as if the auto-stop on your player could read the tension you had created in the room.

“W-what?” Jake questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t that you had regretted saying it, you just wish it were under better circumstances and not purely on impulse. On the other hand, you felt relieved that you had finally torn down that wall you’ve been building for years.

“I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.. i know you’re with someone and i'm sure she’s great to you, I don’t want ruin that but I’ve been in love with you for too fucking long Jake and I can’t keep trying to convince myself I’m not for the sake of ruining our friendsh—“

Your desperate rambling was quickly cut off by Jake's soft lips crashing against your own.

Your eyes widened in shock before quickly relaxing into him as he hovered above you on the couch. Your lips moved in sync with his, it was everything you had imagined and more. The way yours slotted in so seamlessly with his own. The way he progressively kissed you with more fervor only made your body ache with need. He held onto you as if you’d disappear at any second, as if he was craving this just as much as you if not more. You both moved in a frenzy, eager to explore one another how you both had incessantly craved growing up.

You brought your hands up to cradle his face. You were scared this wasn't real and you needed him to be as tangible as possible. As if his lips on your own wasn't enough, you almost needed him to be engraved within you.

He slipped his tongue in perfectly as he explored what it felt like to finally be kissing you. Jake's head was rushing with emotion, your lips were so sweet against his own. He always imagined them to be soft but the feeling he's getting could never manifest properly within one's imagination. It was a feeling you had to physically experience.

You reluctantly pulled back as you remembered he was with someone and he was your lifelong friend. It felt right but the morality of it was completely wrong.

“J-Jake..” you whispered, pulling your lips from his own. Jake furrowed his brows at the loss of contact and fought himself from going back in for more.

“..we can’t, you're with Laura.” You said, voice cracking as you toyed with the necklaces adorning his chest. You so badly wanted to be his.

“Y/n i broke up with her.” He said, attaching his lips to yours again.

“She could never compare to you..’ he whispered, pulling himself back. His hand softly caressed your cheek as his eyes danced across your face.

“I’m sorry for ever thinking otherwise but i'm here now, all yours.”

You were so hopelessly in love with him it hurt. The way he gently rubbed your face, the pure adoration in his gaze, it was all too good to be true.

“This feels like a dream..’ you whispered back, your eyes shining up at him.

You looked at him with so much love Jake was having a hard time keeping himself composed. Now having felt your kiss for himself he feels sick at the thought of another experiencing the pure euphoria you have to offer. He couldn’t believe he went all this time without it and he certainly didn’t know how he was meant to live life with its absence now that he's gotten a taste.

You pulled him down towards you by his necklaces before gently kissing him again, this time a bit slower. You both wanted to enjoy every bit of this, you wanted to engrave this in your memory for eternity.

The feeling was enrapturing.

Your lips moved in tandem with the other, it felt so natural, like this should’ve been done ages ago. You never believed in the cliches of a kiss. While you didn’t necessarily feel the sparks every love story raved about, the electricity was undeniable. It was unlike any other kiss you had felt.

You didn’t expect your first kiss with Jake to be on your couch but you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way, you couldn’t believe you’re finally experiencing what seventeen year old you thought would never happen. Your hands cupped his face to keep him as close as possible.

Everything felt so surreal.

Jake was as much of a hopeless romantic as you were and this was everything he wanted and more. He couldn’t be more sure that you were the one for him. His hands desperately held the back of your head as your hair tangled within his fingers. You moved your hands from his face to his hair as he deepened the kiss.

You mindlessly tugged at his chestnut locks, Jake let out a low grunt at the feeling, you wanted that sound to replay in your head forever. You’ve never seen him in such desperation for you.

“Y/n..” he mumbled against your lips.

“Hmm” you softly hummed as a reply as you pecked his lips.

“I don’t wanna stop kissing you, I really don’t.. but we gotta-“ he kissed you once more.

“…we gotta slow down. I wanna do things right with you.” He continues.

“Are you getting too excited, jakey?” You teased as you bit your lip. You don’t know where the newfound confidence came from but Jake made you feel so comfortable.

He just tipped his head back and laughed. Jake ran a hand over his face before smiling back down on you, his love drunk eyes scanning every inch of you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.” He smiled before scooping you up bridal style and carrying you to your bedroom.

He couldn’t believe you were in his arms right now after kissing him with so much desire. If he knew the depth of your feelings for him he would’ve done this a long time ago.

Jake gently laid you on the bed but didn't get in with you, he made his way over to the door instead.

“What are you doing? Are you leaving?’ You ask, sitting up on your elbows.

“No baby, just shutting the door.” He chuckled as butterflies erupted at the pet name. It rolled off his tongue so easily, like he had called you baby forever.

“Mmm i like that, say it again..” you smiled as he leaned over you on the bed to place a peck on your lips.

“What? Shutting the door?” He teased.

“C’mon you have to be nice to me now..” you playfully whined.

“Who says? Not like you’re my girlfriend.”

Ouch.

Jake realized how insensitive that sounded considering you just professed your love to him before having a spontaneous steamy make out session.

The realization settled in that he was in fact right, you weren’t dating and you were getting too comfortable. You cleared your throat as you sat up adjusting yourself.

“I didn’t mean it like that, sunshine.. I was just teasing.”

“No, no you’re right..we're not. I was getting ahead of myself, you don’t have to call me baby..” you paused looking down at your hands before continuing.

“…d-do you think we ruined everything?” You asked, now feeling extremely vulnerable. Jake gently grabbed your chin bringing you to look up at him, he placed a soft kiss on your lips before responding.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this y/n, if you think we ruined it you're insane. I think we just made everything so much better.” He smiled down at you, you couldn’t help but let a tear escape as you smiled up at him. He truly was the perfect one for you.

‘They’re happy tears this time, promise.” You gave him a tight lipped smile as he planted the messiest peck on your lips wrapping his arms around you.

“I’ll happily call you baby whenever you want, so long as you give me another kiss.” He said looking down at your lips. You giggled before softly placing your lips against his.

He deepened the kiss hovering over you on the bed as your hands found their way back through his hair. You hummed against his lips as his knee came to rest between your legs. The sound was music to Jake’s ears.

You ran your hands along his exposed chest before toying with the last few buttons on his shirt.

“Eager, are we?” Jake teased.

You blushed at the fact he’d taken notice of your desperation. You were trying to play it cool and not like this is the very moment you’ve dreamt about on too many nights alone to count. You were stuck on how you even got in this position in the first place. Jake pecked your lips once more before trailing his way down to your neck.

“Don’t get all shy on me now baby..” the rasp in his voice sent shivers down your spine as he slid a hand up your shirt toying with your bra strap.

‘Is it okay if I take this off?” He whispered in your ear before planting a kiss just below it. You closed your eyes from the pure bliss the proximity brought you, you’ve seen how romantic and sensual Jake can be and you had desperately longed to feel that for yourself.

“Mhmm..” you softly hummed.

“Use your words darling.” His voice was stern, dominating, and you loved it.

Jake was usually very sure of himself in bed yet he was struggling to maintain composure seeing your lust-filled eyes watch his every move. He wanted to make this moment special, he wanted it to be memorable and you made him incredibly nervous. Alike yourself, this is the moment he's been dreaming of and he was certain on making it exceptional.

“Please Jake.” You said, voice merely above a whisper. Jakes eyes fluttered shut at the sweet sound of your desperation, the need in your plea only spurring him on further. In one swift motion your shirt was being pulled over your head.

Jake sat back for a moment to fully admire you. He had seen you in a bikini plenty of times but this was especially different. A bathing suit top is nothing compared to you in a black lace bra underneath him as you stare up at him with love-drunk eyes.

“You’re too good to be true, y/n.” Jake said before hungrily attaching his lips to yours.

He didn’t linger on your lips for long before he started trailing his kisses down your neck and chest before eventually finding purchase on the curve of your boob.

“Take it off.” You said, you were so quiet you weren’t sure he even heard you.

“What?”

“You can take it off, jakey” you reiterated.

Jake wasted no time in unclasping your bra and sliding it down your arms.

“..fuck.” He whispered beneath his breath.

You closed your eyes as his hands moved to massage both your breasts. Jake reattached his lips to the skin of your chest before trailing down and wrapping his lips around your nipple and gently sucking.

You whimpered slightly and you felt Jake grow even harder against your leg. He swirled his tongue around as his other hand came up to roll your other nipple between his thumb and pointer.

“Fuckkk jake..” you moaned.

He let off your breast with a pop before leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. Your heart rate quickened as he came close to your heat, you couldn’t believe how you ended up in this situation.

“I’m gonna take these off baby, okay?”

“Okay.” You softly giggle as he pulls your sweatpants down your legs, throwing them off to the side of your bed.

“Are we really doing this?” You ask with a nervous smile as he came back up to kiss you once more.

“Only if you really want to.” Jake said, pressing his lips to yours.

“You're not gonna get all weird with me in the morning are you?” You joked.

“Not a chance, sunshine.” He reassured, shining you a comforting smile.

You felt relieved you were finally doing this with someone who understood your emotional needs so well. It wasn't weird that you were becoming intimate with someone you’ve known for so long, it was everything you wanted. You knew at this moment you could trust him with your entire being.

“I'm all yours, baby.” You say pulling him down to feel the taste of his lips on yours again. You couldn’t get enough of it, it was compelling, intoxicating, an addiction waiting to take its course.

With his lips still on your own, Jake moved his hand down to gently move the fabric of your thong to the side. You sighed against his lips as you felt his calloused finger tip collect some of your slick.

“You’re soaked, love..” he mumbled against your lips.

Jake sat back to get a good look at the mess between your legs. Your cunt ached with need and you were eager to feel him inside you.

He swiped his finger across your vulva once more before bringing his fingers to his mouth for a taste. Jake softly hummed at how sweet you tasted, he collected some more on his middle and ring finger before inserting them in your own. You moaned at how hot this side of Jake was. The taste of your arousal mixed with the saltiness of the skin on his fingers, you wanted him to absolutely ruin you.

He slid one finger into your cunt watching and studying how your face contorted in pleasure. Your brows slightly furrowed and your lips softly parted at the feeling of finally feeling the contact you’d been desperately craving. He pumped his finger in and out gently coaxing small moans and whimpers out of you. Jake had never heard prettier sounds in all his years of living.

Jake moved his way down, sliding your underwear down your legs. He moved his face to be level with your dripping core. He laid flat on his stomach wrapping his arms under your knees and resting both of your legs atop his shoulders. Once he had your legs comfortably sat he slipped both his hands under your ass lifting your bottom half into his face. You watched as he connected his mouth to your clit gently sucking. He licked a long stripe, collecting every last drop of the sweet nectar on his tongue.

“You taste so good, sunshine.” Jake said, pulling back; this time inserting two fingers in you.

Your mouth fell slack as he pushed them both to the hilt and curled up. He slowly pumped them inside you as your abdomen tightened from the pleasure. Jake was having a ball seeing the reactions he could emit from you with solely his fingers.

“Tell me how good it feels baby..” he said, slowing his movements as he waited for a response. He looked up at you from his position, his chin coated in your slick. He was so hot like this, you didn’t expect Jake to be so vocal in bed but it ultimately made so much sense.

“Mm.. soo good Jake..” you whimpered, grinding your hips further down on his fingers for more friction.

“Atta girl.” He praised before attaching his mouth to your slit once more.

He was working you at a much faster pace, he was almost feral for you. The pleasure was so intense you could only emit high pitched whines and staggered breaths. Your sounds of pleasure only made Jake want to coax more out of you. His fingers and his tongue moved in harmony as you so gracefully sang for him. Jake was in ecstasy with your thighs clamped around his head as you writhed beneath him.

Jake added a third finger pushing in as far as he could and merciselly pounded his fingers in and out of you while he hungrily sucked on your clit. The feeling of the added finger and the stimulation on your clit had the knot in your stomach tightening faster than you would like to admit.

“I’m close” you whined, gripping his hair in your fingers.

Jake didn’t speed up nor slow down, he knew this was the pace that was drawing you closer and didn’t want to mess up the flow. He looked up to watch how your face beautifully contorted from your impending orgasm. He felt your walls clench around his fingers before you closed your eyes and tipped your head back even further into the pillow.

You felt the knot finally explode as you let out a choked moan from the immense pleasure you were receiving.

Jake gently pulled his fingers out and made his way up to kiss you again. You moaned at the taste of your climax on his lips. He sat back and messed with his belt pulling his pants off. He discarded them with the rest of the clothes lying on the floor.

You pulled him back down towards you to attach your lips to his again. Now that you had finally felt his kiss you couldn’t get enough of it. You moaned against his lips as you toyed with the band of his boxers.

“I don’t have a condom” He spoke against your kiss.

“I’m on birth control.. as long as you don’t have any germs down there im fine.” You giggled moving loose strands of his hair away from his face. Jake chuckled before helping you slip his boxers off.

Your eyes widened upon seeing his shaft spring free.

“Not what you expected?” He teased with a cocky smirk. You rolled your eyes with a laugh but he wasn't entirely wrong. You didn’t expect for him to be small but definitely not this big. Jake’s member was painfully hard, the tip swollen red with pre-cum leaking. He had gotten himself so worked up while pleasing you, he was desperate for release. It was intimidating to say the least.

“Don’t flatter yourself, kiszka.” You jokingly chided.

Jake chuckled before leaning back over you and spreading your legs apart with his knees. He attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss as you felt his tip come in contact with your slit. You tried pushing your hips down to see if he would slip in even the slightest but to no avail.

“Mm-m… not yet.”

“Gonna please you some more baby” Jake continued.

“But this would please me.” You whined.

“so whiny, just trust me.. yeah?” He breathed as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

”Come stand in front of me..” he said softly.

You got up from your spot on the bed and made your way to stand in between his parted legs. Your hands subconsciously moved to cover your boobs, you felt extremely vulnerable now fully exposed in front of him. You were still getting accustomed to the fact that your lifelong best friend just gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. His hands gently moved your hands off each boob and kissed along your sternum.

“So beautiful, my woman.” Jake mumbled against your skin. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear as he retreated from your torso.

He took a moment to admire you on complete display for him. You were stunning, Jake was practically drooling at the sight. He still couldn’t believe you loved him the same as he did.

“temptress of my heart…” he muttered, almost to himself as his eyes drank in your beauty. You blushed and smiled to yourself that he had been so kind to you even in your most vulnerable state.

“If it becomes too much we're gonna use the stoplight system, okay?”

”green you're good, yellow we slow down for a little, red we stop completely.” He held direct eye contact waiting for your answer.

“O-okay.” You shyly replied.

No one had ever dominated you like this and you were eager to see what he had in store for you, you doubt you would even use the safe words but you were glad he ensured your own pleasure above all else.

“Bend over my lap baby.” Jake directed.

You timidly shifted your body to the side of jakes as he laid his hand on your lower back to help guide you over his thighs. You shifted your body down until your torso was across his legs. Jake wrapped his hands around your waist and guided you further towards one side until your top half was almost hanging off him completely giving his arm better access to your center. He gave your ass a squeeze causing you to slightly hum in pleasure, eager for him to carry on.

”You look so pretty like this, sunshine. Bent over my lap, all naked..” he trailed off as he started getting lost in the thought of his fantasy finally becoming a reality. He quickly inserted one finger eliciting a moan from you.

“More..” you pleaded.

”my sweet girl..” he mumbled, inserting another finger, pumping at a faster rate.

“Good job using your words baby..” he said as you let out a high pitched moan as he had started pumping his fingers so fast in and out of you that you were about to slide off his lap entirely if it weren’t for him wrapping his left arm around under your neck combatting the force of his right hand.

The position he had you in only added to the pleasure. Jake added a third finger again, this time stretching you further than before. You dropped your full weight on Jake allowing his arm to fully hold you up as he worked your pussy with fervor.

Your moans had subsided to long drawn out whines as the pleasure had intensified. You’ve never been fingered so well in a position like this and you wondered how you would ever get over him, should something bad happen, now that he's made you feel such intense euphoria.

Jake's soft hums of praise and the lewd squelching of your arousal was all that could be heard as your vocalized pleasure had subsided to silence. Your mouth hung agape as it all became so intense you were experiencing a feeling you had never felt before. Jake only pumped faster as you finally released guttural moans.

The blood rushing to your head from your position made you feel incredibly light headed on top of the pure ecstasy Jake was making you feel. The unfamiliar feeling only grew stronger as he curled his fingers just right, thrusting in and out of you with even more force.

Your hips spasmed against his thighs as your orgasm had completely overtaken all senses. Your vision blurred over for a moment as your release was far more intense than any other you had ever felt. The moan you let put was practically a scream as you heard the rush of your own arousal drip all over the floor as it had completely soaked the side of Jake's leg and down your thighs.

He continued to work you through it as your cum sprayed down his forearm some more. Once you had calmed down and your body had laid limp across his lap, Jake gently guided you to stand up and sit back down more comfortably on his lap while you caught your breath. He gently moved the hair that has stuck to the sweat coating your forehead, allowing you to recover.

‘‘Holy shit, jake..’’ you said, completely exhausted. You curled up against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

”m’sorry about the mess, never done that before” You giggled as the heat rose to your cheeks to which jake slightly chuckled.

”you never have to apologize, baby.” He gently mumbled as his hold on you tightened.

“Color?” He asked.

”green.” You said, lifting your head from the crook of his neck.

Jake smiled bright at you before tapping your calf, signaling you to stand up. You laid back down on your back as Jake crawled above you capturing your lips in yet another kiss. He moved his hand down grabbing ahold of his dick and lining it up with your entrance. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized Jake was actually about to fuck you. Before you could think on it any further he slowly pushed inside.

“Fucking shit.” He muttered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the satisfying stretch his member gave you. No one had ever made you feel so full.

“You feel so good, jake.” You moaned.

Jake started out slow as you were emitting tiny ‘uh’ sounds with every thrust. He slowly started picking up speed as he lifted a leg over his shoulder. He bent down to give you a kiss, bending your leg back with him. You moaned against his mouth at the new angle as he began to mercilessly pound in and out of you.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, fuck.’ He groaned as he picked up his pace. Jake was trying his best to hold out as long as possible but he shouldn’t need to worry, you were still so sensitive from the last two orgasms that your third was creeping up embarrassingly fast.

“Harder, sir.” You whimpered. You didn’t know where the name had come from but the fire it ignited behind Jake's irises only gave you all the more confidence.

”say it again.” Jake ordered, his hooded eyes meeting your own.

“Please, sir… I'm so close.” You whined once more.

“Hold it.” He said pulling out of you and forcefully flipping you around. He gripped your hips pulling you onto all fours making sure your torso laid flat on the bed. He lined himself up with your back entrance.

”color.” He demanded.

“Green.” You said before you yelped from the forceful thrust of Jake's hips. He wrapped your hair around his fist once more. Jake was pounding into you so hard your body thrusted forwards from the sheer force of his hips against your backside.

“Pl-please— fuck!” You yelped as he perfectly hit your g spot.

He smirked behind you as he began focusing his thrust on that area. Your soft moans evolving into high pitched whines as he fucked you senseless. You were still incredibly sensitive and you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to hold out as the pressure had only started rising even more.

“I feel you squeezing around me, i. said. hold. It.” He punctuated his last words with each thrust digging into your cervix, the pain bordered pleasure and the feeling was intoxicating.

Tears pricked at your eyes from the intensity of your impending climax. You cried out as he only picked up speed. Adjusting his grip on your hair, Jake pulled your body up so your back laid flush against his chest. He kissed along your neck as he thrusted upwards.

“Aw, is my sweet girl crying?” Jake said through heavy breaths. You could tell he too was close to a release.

“Just feels soo good, huh angel?” He taunted as the fingers not tangled in your hair came around to toy with your clit.

”please sir” you cried.

”i-i can’t” you continued as tears slid down your face from the fervent pleasure. You knew deep down you could, the pleasure was just overwhelming. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel like you could use your safe word with Jake, deep down you liked the this side of Jake.

“You can, baby. You’re taking it so well. Just one more for me, yea?”

“One more..’ you echoed as you closed your eyes and let him take the reigns. Jake let go of your hair guiding your top half back down on the bed. He turned you on your back once more before slipping back inside your warmth. You both let out sighs of relief as you watched it slide in.

“That’s my girl. Taking it so well, sunshine.” He said as he wiped the remaining tears staining your cheeks. You closed your eyes and hummed as he slowly started thrusting, this time a little slower as he wanted to take his time with you.

Your breathy whimpers spurred Jake on as your eyebrows slightly furrowed from the pleasure. He couldn’t be more enamored by you at this moment. Your breast slightly bounced with his thrusts, your moans were as sweet as a siren's song, your hair perfectly splayed across the pillow, your soft plump lips slightly parted; he was hopelessly in love with you.

”I love you, y/n.” He said before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You moaned happily against his lips as his thrusts picked up more speed.

“I love you more..” you said between breaths as he started fucking into you harder. he wrapped both your legs around his hips as he leaned over you. He placed soft kisses along your neck as his cock hit the perfect spot in your core.

Your moans accelerated as did his speed, you were teetering over the edge once more as his member perfectly hit your cervix.

“Can i cum, sir.. please” you pleaded as you tried grinding your hips down in time with his own. The new sensation of your clit rubbing against his pelvis only quickened your oncoming orgasm.

“Mhm, now.” He said picking up pace as his brows furrowed and his hair clung to the beads of sweat adorning his face.

You were sent over the edge as your legs clamped around his hips. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you succumbed to the waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body.

“Fuckkkkkkkk Jake” you let out a drawn out moan at the intensity.

“That's it baby, just let go” he said, coaxing you through your orgasm as another wave of pleasure shot through you.

You felt him twitch inside you before he pulled out and quickly picked his boxers up, pumping his load into the fabric as heavy breaths escaped through his nose.

“Holy shit.” He laughed, discarding the briefs and making his way to lay down next to you.

Jake wasted no time in pulling you into him as he tangled his legs around yours, you felt him start to soften against your leg and you had never felt so intimately connected to someone. Aside from any romantic aspect, he knew you completely, probably better than most and now he knew you even your most private self.

“Best sex I’ve had..” he mumbled as his eyes darted across your blissed out face.

“Didn’t peg you to be soo….dominant, for lack of better word.” You giggled.

”I'm whoever you want me to be, baby.” Jake smiled with heavy eyelids.

“Are you sleepy?” You whispered, resting a palm on his cheek.

“Very, but I don’t wanna go to sleep just yet.” He said. Jake didn’t want this moment to end. He was clinging on to every last moment with you as if when he woke you would cease to exist, as if he had dreamt it all.

”Well, do you wanna take a quick shower and have a sleepover?” You said flashing him a gentle smile.

”I'll take you up on that sleepover but I'm gonna have to postpone that shower..” he chuckled, closing his eyes and stretching his legs. He let out a content sigh before pulling you in close.

”Just a quick one, baby” you mumbled, twisting his hair around your finger.

”Okay but tell me you love me again” he whispered, moving to leave a sweet peck on your lips.

“I loveee you” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to you.

”mmmmm…again.” he said, kissing you once more.

”I love you, I love you.” You said gently swiping your nose across his own.

”one more time.” You laughed loudly as he smiled at you.

”come on jakey, you know i love you. I’ve loved you for like… ever.”

”how much you wanna bet i loved you first” Jake challenged.

”not a chance” you scoffed.

“Trust me, I did…I wish we would’ve realized sooner.” he said, eyes trailing down to your lips before darting back up to your eyes.

“Thats why i blew up on you that night, i noticed you were upset and i thought i ruined any chance with you…” he continued.

”Jake..”

”no. Let me finish, I’ve been dying to tell you. I-i started seeing Laura to distract me from you.” You pulled back in shock.

’what?!” You laughed.

“No way, me??!” You continued in shock that he even saw you that way all this time. He laughed at your flabbergasted state.

“Of course you” Jake chuckled.

”Jake I haven’t been in a relationship in years because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I was waiting for one hint that you liked me back but I think I may have been a bit blind.” You sheepishly smiled.

”No, that's on me, sunshine. I had terrible flirting attempts and then I just assumed you didn’t like me back so I tried convincing myself to stop seeing you in that light which..failed, terribly.” He laughed.

“I was trying to convince myself I didn’t have feelings for you either and I guess I ended up convincing you in the process as well.” You joked shining light on how silly it all was.

Jake didn’t seem to laugh. He was oddly quiet and avoiding your gaze.

“J-jake?”

”sorry i just still feel really awful for how i spoke to you. You don’t deserve that from anyone. Now that I know I did in fact break your heart with the news, the way I spoke to you after just makes it worse.”

”its okay bab—“

”no. It’s not. I told myself I would always make sure you were happy and I basically failed. And then i fucking ignore you? Like what was I thinking? You deserve so much better than that. You have a heart of pure fucking gold and I should’ve handled it with more care. I’m so sorry y/n.”

“W-why did you ignore me? If you don’t mind me asking.” you timidly ask, afraid of the answer.

”I suppose initially I thought it’d be better to antagonize you than realize I was the one that fucked up and then I just felt so guilty and almost…paralyzed at the thought that I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and apologize. I was a-ashamed, I felt like I had ruined it all.”

“I see..” you say nervously chewing on your bottom lip.

”well, it doesn’t matter. What happened happened no matter how shitty, we're here now and we just had the time of our lives together… o-or at least i did, I don’t know about y—“ you were cut off by Jake pressing his lips to yours.

”you're cute when you ramble.” He whispered, pulling back. You blushed covering your face by nestling it on his chest.

”how about that shower?” He offered.

”yea, you kinda smell.” You joked, standing up from the bed.

“Hey what happened to being nice to each other?” Jake questioned catching up behind you and giving a small smack to your bare ass.

”you’re right..my apologies, good sir” you mocked.

”you little..” Jake murmured following you into the bathroom. He watched you bend over and turn the shower on. You stopped in front of the sink while you let it warm up, you looked at your reflection for the first time in hours and boy did you look rough. Your hair was all tussled from Jake's grip, your mascara had smeared under your eyes from either the nap or the crying, you honestly didn’t know.

Your eyes trailed over to Jake leaning against the door, unclad, staring at you as if you had hung the moon even amidst the disarray.

“I look crazy.” You giggled wiping the mascara under your eyes. Jake came up from behind and wrapped his arms around your waist before resting a kiss to the back of your head.

”never looked better.” He smiled before pulling back. You turned and pecked him on the lips before yawning.

”Okay let's hop in, I’m getting tired.” You say opening the shower door and stepping in, the long-haired boy following suit.

You let the warm water soothe your exhausted body. You had your back facing the shower head as you leaned your head back to wet your hair. Jake moved closer in front of you helping you soak your hair. You sighed in contentment as you leaned into his touch.

”I love you.” you whispered.

”I love you more, princess.” He said picking up the shampoo bottle and gesturing for you guys to switch spots. Jake allowed the stream to flow down his back, wetting his hair as he lathered shampoo onto yours. He helped you rinse your hair out before you returned the favor shortly thereafter.

The rest of the shower consisted of pretty much that, gentle touches and soft words of adoration exchanged. It was sweet and intimate and everything you could have ever hoped for to end a night like this.

You turned off the water and stepped out to dry yourself off. You wrapped a towel in your hair and started on your night routine. Jake quickly dried his hair with a towel before hanging it up and sifting through your drawers for something to wear.

“I have some boxers I wear as pj shorts if you wanna use those.” You offered rubbing in your lotion.

”where are they? He called back.

”pajama pant drawer.. top left” you said, finishing off the last few steps of your skin care.

“Found them.” He said pulling them out and sliding them on. You slipped into an old t-shirt and some underwear for the night, unwrapping the towel from your hair and hanging it back up. Jake made his way to lay down before you stopped him.

”Wait, don’t lay down yet. I have to clean up or else I can’t sleep.” You giggled.

”righttt, forgot about that.” He smiled to himself. He took a seat on your vanity chair watching as you mindlessly wandered about the room picking up the discarded clothes from earlier and putting all your nick nacks in their designated places. Jake couldn’t help himself from the wide smile that broke on his face upon seeing you so candidly.

The domesticity was enamoring, almost as if you guys were playing house. Jake’s favorite girl cleaning up before bed, freshly showered and eager to lay with him afterwards just as much as he is. He wanted this for the rest of his life.

You adjusted the sheets and fluffed the last pillow before exhaling an accomplished sigh and patting the bed for him to lay.

”Come lay, I'm just gonna turn off the lights and make sure the door is locked.” You say before retreating out of your bedroom.

Jake made himself comfortable in your bed as he patiently waited for you to return, he was over the moon. He never thought he’d have you like this and he couldn’t believe he was stupid enough to almost fuck everything up. He was incredibly thankful to have you by his side, it had become painfully obvious to Jake that there was no one else for him aside from you. You returned with two ice cold water bottles, handing one of them to Jake.

”thank you sunshine.” He murmured, pulling a hand from under the sheets to accept it. He cracked open the cap and took a sip as you plugged your phone in and turned off the bedside lamp.

“C’mere baby” Jake said, pulling you into him by your waist.

You wrapped your legs around his own as you nuzzled your head in the crook of his neck. Jake hummed a quiet tune lulling you to sleep. The endorphins you must’ve been experiencing were at an all time high. After all the drinking, the sex, the warm shower, and jakes soft skin and sweet melodies, you were growing more tired by the minute. You let out a big yawn before Jake started scratching the back of your head.

”Go to sleep baby, you’ve had a long day.” He cood

”m’kay” you murmured, allowing your body to fully submit to the slumber. Jake closed his eyes, still keeping a hand on the back of your head to hold you close. He knew you were asleep the minute soft snores started tickling the base of his neck. He smiled to himself before eventually drifting into a blissful deep sleep.

————————————————————————————

You peered your eyes open at the morning light shining through the curtains into your bedroom. You let your eyes adjust to the brightness as you recalled the events of last night. Before you could think any further you heard the insufferable ringing of your phone.

It was josh calling to see if you were up and ready to pick up your car but you knew Jake would have no issue taking you so you told him you found a friend to take you.

You peered over to your side to find the bed completely empty aside from yourself. You laid a hand where you could’ve sworn Jake was just at, upon feeling the coldness of the sheets your heart sunk. Your mind ran a mile a minute at every possibility until you heard some shuffling out in your kitchen. You slipped the covers off of you before heading in that direction.

You turned the corner to see Jake putting what seemed to be the finishing touches on the surprise he had put together for you. Any and all of your worry had quickly washed away seeing his bright smile, waiting for you to come down.

”What is all this jakey?” You exclaimed, looking around as you walked over to give him a sweet peck on the lips.

”well i was gonna go wake you up but i see you’ve beat me to it.” Jake smiled down at you with a firm hand still on your waist.

The rush of relief from the worry you had felt just a few moments ago was incredibly refreshing. You looked around the kitchen table and saw a bouquet of your favorite flowers, some homemade breakfast, your morning cup of coffee curated to your exact taste because Jake wouldn’t dare to forget how you take it, and a handwritten note to which you had yet to figure out the contents of.

”dig in baby” he said, placing a kiss on the top of your head and reassuringly rubbing your side.

”all of this is for me?” You asked, almost in disbelief. You swiftly turned to look back at him for answers, it seemed pretty obvious but no one had ever taken the time to do this for you let alone after a hookup.

It took all of Jake's strength to prevent his knees from buckling upon seeing your bright doe eyes staring into his own, full of love and wonder. He thought you looked quite adorable in your t-shirt that was way too big for you, your hair all messy from sleeping with it wet, and your sweet morning face. Jake was having a hard time pulling himself away from you this morning, you looked so serene he wouldn’t dare to disturb that. He considered himself a very lucky man to have experienced you in such an intimate way.

Your reaction to his little surprise just solidified the question written in the note for you. You picked up a piece of bacon before offering some to him to which he politely declined.

”You're not gonna eat?” You pouted.

“I accidentally filled myself up, I snagged a few pieces of everything while making it.” He laughed.

”of course you did” you giggled along.

“Can i read this first, i wanna know already” you said, impatiently reaching for the note.

”By all means, sunshine.” he said, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

You shuffled closer to him before taking a seat on his lap. You slipped the last piece of bacon in your mouth before wiping your hands and opening up the letter. Jake wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you up and you could feel the pounding of his heart in his rib cage. You picked up on the sudden heavy breaths, Jake was anxious and for what? Your eyes began to scan the paper.

My sweet y/n.

You have graced me with a love I thought I would never have the privilege of experiencing. You have shown and taught me extreme kindness and immense humility and you dance through this life radiating the most enrapturing of lights. you are the feeling of finishing a puzzle, should you lamentably decide i am no longer worthy of your love it would equate to the most dismal of sun sets for you have been my guiding light. I am incredibly sorrowful that i have waited so long to come to terms with my undying love for you. I have put others before you when you have been the only plausible answer all along. I shall spend the rest of my days reminding you that i choose you, always.

I have fallen in love with you in ways incomprehensible to average man.I have loved you firstly as a friend and confidant and now I am most proud to say i get to love you as the partner you deserve.

It would be of greatest honor if you accept this offer.

my sunshine, will you be my girlfriend?

all my love, Jake.

P.s. Sam says he’s really sorry

You giggled at the last sentence as a subtle sob escaped into the trembling hand covering your mouth. The tears had quietly slipped past your ducts. You swivel your body to face him before abruptly kissing him.

”I'm guessing that’s a yes?’ Jake laughed, shining you the brightest smile.

“A million times yes” you said as the happy tears flowed. You attached your lips to his once more.

You were elated to say the least, if you would have told your 17 year old self that you would be sitting in your kitchen after sleeping with the man you were hopelessly in love with, accepting to be his lover, you wouldn’t have believed it. Alas, you sat there clinging on to the long haired man as if he would slip from your grasps at any moment. You pulled back to slightly catch your breath as you both got lost within the others gaze.

“I love you, sweet lady” Jake cooed.

“I love you more” you replied pecking his lips once more.

Although you may have been a bit dramatic in leaving after hearing he was with someone else, you couldn’t have been more grateful for the outcome it has bestowed upon you both. If things hadn’t happened the way it did, would you have been compelled to confess your feelings or was the perfect nudge in the right direction.

When everything was seemingly crashing down around you as though some emotional landslide, the torn down rubble had paved way for a brand new journey. One to embark with a newfound freedom and irrevocable love.

You two stayed in the rest of the day enjoying the simplistic domesticity, enjoying some records and food together. As you stared at him cleaning up his dishes you realized there isn’t anyone else you would rather spend the rest of your life with.

Turns out the child within your heart can rise above.

Thoughts???!!! How is everybody? Thank you guys again!

#gvf fic #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf smut #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka #greta van fleet imagine #gvf angst #greta van angst #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #Danny Wagner #Sam kiszka #jake kiszka landslide

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