#bangtanfairygarden

[daydreamindollie]

THE PRINCE WITH THE UGLY HEART ⏤15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN : NEW BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM ; you and taehyung start living in the capital within the palace and start adjusting to palace life with your studies keeping the both of you busy but can your determination to do well be enough or will things prove too hard for you to cope?

G. ; fluff ; very slight angst if you squint ; king!jungkook ; queenintraining!reader ; littlemaster!taehyung ; youngduke!taehyung ; reader is very studious ; taehyung's sacrifice ; reader's guilt ; jungkook being a good king ; jungkook also being a bad king ; ladies in waiting appearance ; hoseok gets promoted to butler ; new future queen in the queens palace ; taehyung isn't a prince ; surprise visits

LENGTH ; 7.7k

A/N ; goodness, it's been such a long time, i'm so sorry my lovely dollies, i never anticipated taking such an extended hiatus on this story - a lot of things happened and it can never be boiled down to one primary reason but what's important is that im back! i intend to finish this series that is and has been such a big reflection on my journey in writing. i hope you darlings, enjoy the read, i'm sorry for the long wait x

PREV.

Entering the royal palace was surreal. There was such a flurry of movement surrounding you, it was hard to process everything all at once. At the very least, Taehyung and Jungkook stayed by your side through it all, they were able to ground you through the hurricane of movement. 

“Call the royal tailor and seamstress to take the measurements of my lady and the little master  so that they can be fitted for new garments as soon as possible,” Jungkook ordered the staff as soon as you were settled into a room that could be considered the size of a small house, “also, prepare 2 baths and leave us be until the tailor and seamstress have arrived,”

“As you wish, your highness,” with that all the staff dispersed to set about their designated tasks. 

Finally, finally, you could breathe and hold your little brother close for comfort and a semblance of normalcy. 

“I hope you aren’t too overwhelmed,”  Jungkook sends you a look of sympathy, “I can understand how different this all must feel so please don’t hesitate to inform me whenever the two of you feel uncomfortable,”

“It’s okay, Hyung,” Taehyung speaks up in your lap, still cuddled up against you, “we’ll try our best, won’t we Noona?” he turns to gaze up at you with a smile that you reciprocate. 

“Of course we will,” you lean down to nuzzle your nose against your little brothers before turning your full attention to Jungkook, “anything to be able to stay by your side, Jungkook,”

The smile that spreads across his lips has your heart stuttering in your chest. You hold such a deep love for him but having his handsome face smile so sweetly at you is dangerous, and so is the knowledge that he helped bring the war to an end and has done so many good things for the people of the kingdom since his reign as King. 

How did you ever get so lucky? 

If only you knew how much deeper in love Jungkook was with you. If he needed to start a war again and become known as a terrible tyrant of a king or need to sacrifice all the luxury and privilege he grew up with, he’d do so in a heartbeat if it meant being your love for forever and always. He was willing to do exactly that if his father hadn’t allowed him that week of freedom and accepted you as his future queen.

“How very lucky I am to have you both in my life,” Jungkook kneels down before you, takes your hand and touches his lips to your knuckles in a soft kiss. 

“We’re lucky to have you too, Hyung!” Taehyung cheers and jumps on him with a shout of happiness. 

“Taehyung!” you gasp as they go tumbling down but refrain from scolding either one when they burst into fits of giggles, instead you sigh and lean back with a content smile. Once they’ve collected themselves, Jungkook stands with Taehyung held up with one arm as he pulls you close with his spare hand.

“I deeply apologise for having to delay our wedding, my love,” Jungkook, crestfallen, hums softly as he kisses your temple in apology.

“It’s alright,” you bashfully reassure and move to press a gentle kiss onto his cheek, “I’ve waited 5 years already, I can be patient,”

Jungkook smiles and squeezes both you and Taehyung close, “I couldn’t have said it better myself. All of that time is worth finally having you at arm's reach like this,” he nestles his face into your hair and smiles at your sweet, floral scent, “it won’t be too long now…” 

“I just hope-”

“None of that. I can’t have you doubting yourself when I know for sure that you’ll make an excellent queen, right Tae?” he holds your face as he stares at you lovingly. 

“Yeah! Hyung’s right, Noona!”

“Really?” you timidly ask. 

“Are you doubting the judgement of your King?” he teases as you laugh. 

“And what if I am?~”

Jungkook hums thoughtfully for a moment before a proud grin overtakes his once pensive features, “Only someone worthy of being the future queen would dare challenge their King in this way,” Taehyung laughs at Jungkook’s playful mocking but you could only pout.  

“Stopppp!” you whine but Jungkook laughs and seizes your lips in a loving kiss. 

“Believe in yourself the way you believed in me when I was at my lowest,” you smile as your heart softens from his heartfelt words, “and if you aren’t there yet, I'll support you as best as I can until you reach that point,”

“Thank you, Jungkook,”

Not long after being bathed then measured and fitted for noble attire, you and Taehyung were met with a shocking discovery in the absence of Jungkook and the presence of his newly assigned Butler. 

“This is…where?”

“This is the Queen’s palace, my lady, also known as the Diamond Palace,” the recently assigned butler, Hoseok, informs you. He had been so accommodating with helping to assign you ladies-in-waiting and tutors as well as a nanny, tutors and instructors for Taehyung to see after the week period set aside for you and your little brother to settle into palace life, a week that you were in the middle of currently, “would you like to know more?”

“Yes please, Hoseok,” you nod as Taehyung indulges in the many cakes and cookies laid out on the table before him with the occasional sip of his milk and honey. Nevertheless, he makes it a point to be turned towards the red-headed butler, ears perked and openly listening. Hoseok smiles at this, happy that the little master has such good manners, manners befitting a noble but displaying such better than most do. 

“The Queen’s palace is separate from the main palace where court officials and members of the King’s personal and public council often visit and hold meetings. The main purpose of the Queen’s palace is to train future Queens and therefore holds a mark of every queen that once resided in it. In fact, the previous queen, his highness’ belated mother, designed and helped cultivate the North and south gardens herself,” your mouth drops as the realisation of how importance your current residence dawns on you, “there are two more separate palaces called the Sapphire and Morganite palace also known as the Prince and Princess Palace respectively. They are where the prince and princesses of the kingdom should reside,” at his explanation, you turn to Taehyung, who looks at you with his own questioning gaze. Sensing the query in the air, Hoseok continues, “the Prince and Princess Palace are reserved for yours and his highness’ future children, my lady, as the young master, Taehyung, is politically not a prince but instead a young Duke. This is because he has relations with a member of the royal family through marriage, as soon as you are wed to his majesty, young master Taehyung’s dukedom will be announced soon after. His highness, the King, has been signing the documentations and making the proper preparations for this so please don’t worry, my lady,”

“Oh my…”

“What’s a Duke, Noona?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, you’re still too young Tae,” you assure as you bite your lip and give Hoseok a look that he immediately bows to, expressing his cooperation. Taehyung will not be told the full implications of this until he is much older, you want him to continue living as a child for as long as possible. 

Taehyung loved exploring the palace grounds and, although the palace staff adored him, he’s been keeping them on their toes. You were, at first, worried that a fair majority would antagonise you and your little brother for your humble background, however, they were nothing but friendly and welcoming to you both. Rumours between the palace maids made it clear to you that it’s all because of Jungkook emphasising that you were the reason for his change in demeanour prior to your arrival. 

“I heard that he begged his highness, the previous king, to let him go and do whatever he wanted for a week, and the condition was that he would leave after completing an entire week’s worth of work,” one palace maid gossiped behind a tall, marble pillar. 

“And then?”

“Now, I only heard this from a few people that work closely with the King but apparently, he also created a separate list of important things to do,”

“What else did he need to do? How could he even have the time to do more atop double the amount of work he already had to complete?”

“It was to spread the word that his highness was only able to become who he is today because  of the future queen,”

“The commoner girl he brought back claiming is going to become his queen?”

“Yes yes!”

“Oh my goodness! She must be really special to be able to make him change so much, then!”

“We must treat her well for bettering his highness, I remember when he used to be so irrational and rude, now it’s almost unbelievable that he used to be that way,”

You couldn’t bring yourself to listen any further with your mind racing and unable to process any more of their conversation. Jungkook had assured you that your existence and identity were completely secret and that all of the palace staff were sworn in to secrecy but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t gossip about you within palace walls. At least, you were fairly well accepted by the palace staff. 

“My lady is so beautiful, I just adore dressing her up,” Rosé, one of your four ladies in waiting, sighs dreamily as she tidies up your dress for the day. It would be your first time wearing a hand tailored dress as you had been wearing made-to-wear dresses up until this point. It was a flowy dress made of light material as per your request, and simply designed for your comfort and carefree movement. Elegant and enchanting, it was the perfect first dress. 

“That is a given, she will soon be the queen afterall,” Jisoo turns up her nose at the statement, as if to express how proud she is to be working for the future monarch.

“Which necklace would you like to wear today, my lady?” Lisa asks, as she sets down an assortment of necklaces upon your vanity. 

“Would you like to accompany them with earrings,” Jennie asks, gesturing to the tray of earrings on her cart, “or a bracelet?” she gestures to the lower half of the cart with an array of beautiful bracelets. 

“Maybe you’d like a headpiece?” jisoo comments stepping up beside you after finishing up with your hair. 

You take a moment to ponder, still flustered over being served in such an extravagant way and with incredibly kind and beautiful ladies in waiting, “Umm…I don’t believe I have the appropriate understanding of jewellery accompaniment yet so…is it alright if you make the decisions for me in the meantime?” you timidly look up at your ladies in waiting from your seat at the vanity, shy from their awed and quickly-turned adoring gazes. 

“Of course, my lady!” Lisa cheers. 

“We’d be more than happy to help you but please, once you feel like choosing what to wear, notify us right away,” Jisoo smiles softly. 

“It would mean more to us than anything in the world to properly honour our lady’s wishes,” Rosé pipes up as Jennie fervently nods in agreement beside her. 

“Thank you,” you smile, “you’ve all done a fantastic job,” 

“It’s all because our lady is already so beautiful,” Jennie compliments as they all bow at your gratitude.  

“Noona! Are you finished dressing up? Can I come in?” Taehyung’s excited voice calls through your door. You had heard his loud foot-falls approaching your bedroom and had quickly anticipated his company. 

“Yes, you may come in, Tae,” you call back, beginning to stand from your vanity, fully dressed as Lisa pulls open the door for Taehyung to step in and gasp at your appearance. 

“Wow! Noona! I always thought you were pretty but now you’re even prettier! You’re the prettiest person in the whole world!” he grins, running up to you with his arms wide open to which you bend down and meet him in an embrace. 

“Thank you Tae, you look very handsome in your new attire too, very dashing,” Taehyung was dressed in black fitted trousers and a white button up with embroidered embellishments at the cuffs and collar. Around his neck and fitted through his collar hung a simple gold chain connected to a black cape with the same golden embellishments as seen on his shirt. And, for once, his hair was a neat mess of bouncy curls rather than a messy nest for birds to lay their eggs in.  

“Thank you Noona!” you giggle when he steps back and strikes a manly pose for you, his face proud and happy. Lisa, Rosé, Jennie and JIsoo look on at your interaction with Taehyung, all smiling in content at serving under such a kind-hearted and loving person.  

“We were so right to take on this job,” Lisa whispers to Jisoo, who nods. 

“Forget being a noble lady,” Jisoo states spitefully.

“It’s too boring,” Rosé agrees.

“At least we can dress up and serve someone nice instead of those other noble snobs,” Jennie grins. All four were noble ladies themselves who volunteered to serve as ladies in waiting, others had volunteered for the job too but only they were chosen. 

Typically a Queen has eight ladies in waiting but you had expressed your need for only half if not one to serve under you, which peaked their interest. From the noble ladies they were always surrounded by at sourires, balls and galas, many bragged about taking advantage of the opportunity for power when given the chance to be queen, so confident in their noble blood. 

As soon as the once despised prince turned his image around and became an admirable king, who needed to marry, many noble ladies and their fathers rushed for the chance to curry favour with noble officials and members of the council to be picked as a queen candidate but were all rejected. None were given an explanation but being selected to be ladies in waiting was a new development when the four originally volunteered to become palace maids as was custom for noble ladies and gentlemen who wanted to gain connections for greater power and business or to escape noble obligations as a main perk of becoming palace maids meant arranged marriages becoming null.

You are a breath of fresh air from most noble ladies out there seeking to become queen. The four can’t wait for your debut into noble society as the new queen. They can’t wait to see all other noble ladies’ jaws drop at the sight of you because, not only were you incredibly beautiful but you were such a warm and kind person, of course you’ll only become even more beautiful in others’ eyes from that. For now they will stay patient and support you in every which way they can as your devoted ladies in waiting.    

“Postponing the ceremony?” The retired king exclaimed in bewilderment. It was unheard of. He should be used to his son’s unexpected ways after having tripped up his expectations over and over again but this was too much, “You understand what that entails, don’t you?”

“Father there is no need to fret, despite the war still being fresh, Seoul is at its most peaceful right now, everyone is striving to achieve normalcy once again and our newly established borders are being guarded far more stringently than ever before...” silence. Jungkook knows his father is contemplating his decision, all he needs is one more push, “and besides, didn’t you crown me because you were confident in my capabilities as King?”

It took another momentary beat of silence before Jungkook’s father huffed a chuckle and leaned back in his deep chair. His son was right in all aspects, hence his secondary contemplation on ending the monitoring of his son’s royal duties. Jungkook had proven himself worthy enough in the war, resulting in his crowning - he should finally let his son be to do as he so wishes.

“Very well, I trust you...” the father and son smiled in mutual respect and understanding of each other, “now get out of my chambers, this old man doesn’t want the King visiting him any more from now on, unless it’s to visit as his son,” as a wide grin stretched across Jungkook’s face, his father gave him one more word of advice, “now go and inform your future queen of this new establishment. This very much involves her too so she should be well-informed of this substantial decision,”

“Right away, father,” and with a quick look of acknowledgement, Jungkook left his father’s chambers and sought after you. Referring to the time, he’s pretty sure you’ll be alone in the library practising your reading with Taehyung. 

Just as you had told him that morning, he found you in the Royal Library, books piled up around you as Taehyung’s footsteps echo in the background, climbing ladders and exploring long book-filled corridors, his awes of wonder and interest fostering an amiable environment in the usually stiff and sombre room of knowledge that was Royal Palace Library. 

“Jungkook,” you smile at the sight of the man you love so much, looking up to instantly lock eyes with him as he enters through the large oak doors. He was as handsome as ever despite his more casual attire of dress pants, shoes, a silk sash wrapped tightly around his slim waist and a white shirt, long sleeves rolled up to his forearms and with a v-neck so deep it had to be loosely laced up with a thick thread.

“I see that you are hard at work,” he praises, eliciting a flustered expression. Your tutoring had just begun and you were only just catching your bearings with the boat-load of information being pushed onto you.  

“I-It’s still hard for me to read passages out loud without breaking up here and there; I’m better at reading in my head,”

“That’s alright, I believe in you,” Jungkook had finally reached your side and leaned down to press a kiss on your temple. He then pulls away to lean against your work table with his hands bracing himself against the edge of the table, accentuating his veins and muscles. If his kiss didn’t distract you so much, his toned arms would have. 

“Thank you,” you sigh dreamily at the gentle touch of his lips but quickly shake yourself out of your daze, shouldn’t he have a lot of things to do right now? You wouldn’t want to stall him in his work. 

Seeing the panic in your eyes, Jungkook quickly reassures you, “It’s alright, I’m on a break and I also have something very important to tell you,”

“What is it?” Jungkook waits until you’ve bookmarked your place and set your book aside before taking your hand in his leaning forward ever so slightly in order to do so. He allows himself a moment to admire your beautiful hand, tracing his thumb over your supple skin and without a single thought, he brings your knuckles to his lips for a kiss, noting a soft but lingering floral scent - kissing your hand has become such an addictive habit of his, he loves kissing your sweet skin. No matter what, you always smell like the flowers you used to take care of. 

“Were you in the garden earlier?” Despite his soft tone, you avoid his eyes when answering as if being accused of a criminal act. 

“The flowers were just so lovely, I couldn’t help myself,”

Jungkook laughs and kisses you, his hand on your cheek deepening the intimate embrace. He really can’t seem to keep his lips off you whenever you’re together, you’ve found, though you’re not going to complain, “I’m glad you enjoy it there as much as I do,”

“Well...what did you want to tell me?” you ask to distract yourself from getting all the more sheepish.

“It’s about a very important ceremony that I’m choosing to postpone,” this makes you tilt your head in confusion. In your journey to becoming the future queen, you’ve had to read many books on the history and noble culture of the kingdom, which includes the many ceremonies that were held for certain events. You wanted to enquire further but didn’t know if you should or not. Your curious look, however, did all the talking for you, “I’ve decided to postpone the Knight Oath ceremony,”

“Wh-what?” That's definitely a ceremony you’ve read about, especially because it’s one of the most important few.

“You’ve learned about that ceremony already?”

“Yes, o-of course, it’s very important for the safety of the royal family, after all,” you emphasise. 

“You’re so smart,” he praises, ignoring your look of concern. 

“Jungkook, this is serious,”

“I know I know but tell me how much you’ve learned,” he winks at you, leaning back to look down at and crosses his arms as if he were a tutor quizzing you, “let me know how much you’ve learned so far, my beautiful rose~” his sweet voice drawls seductively at the nickname and has your heart racing in seconds. How does he expect you to answer his question when he’s being so flirty?! “Go on...”

First, you clear your throat, look away and take a deep breath…now, you think you can answer him, “To start with, there are two current knight factions even though there used to be more.” For a moment, you glance at Jungkook and gain confidence from his approving nod before continuing more positively, “One serves only the current King and is composed of very specialised knights with a high level of skill. The second faction is greater in number so, although some are very skilled, most are average at best. Their sole purpose is to serve the people of the Kingdom and those higher up, dispatch squadrons for expeditions to the border or to patrol a highly dangerous area. Umm…” you pause for thought, not knowing what to say next. 

“Because their numbers are so large, naturally, there are different rankings, no?” Jungkook continues, making you nod along as you begin to remember what to say next. 

“Yes yes! Umm, there’s Rank C for those that are still learning the ropes and are undergoing training. Rank B is for the knights who have graduated from C and are given more responsibilities as well as trust in caring for the people and maintaining peace throughout the kingdom. Rank A is for the elites, the heads of the squadrons spread out across the kingdom, they manage funds, assignments and reports that need to be looked over by the King on a monthly and yearly basis,”

“And how do knights acquire an A ranking?”

“Don’t they have to go through a test of some sort?” you ponder. 

“Yes, and?”

“After passing the test, they undergo special training that typically lasts half to almost a full year,” you’re back in the flow again and continue without much more prompting, “when they achieve their rank A medal, they gain a lot of authority and respect, this allows them the ability to access certain places within the Palace, such as the inner palace if they so wish. That is, apart from a few restrictive hours, of course. The Kings faction is overlooked by Sir Min Yoongi whereas the Kingdom’s knight faction is managed by Sir Kim Namjoon,”

“That is correct. Both are capable of managing either faction, however, Commander Kim is adamant at serving the people, if not, he would have very easily qualified as the King’s personal aide. Commander Min just took on the faction that was left. He seems to regret it though,” Jungkook chuckles, “he’s always complaining about how the knights aren’t good enough when it’s him that exceeds all qualifications and so do his standards,” you both giggle at the thought, “Doesn’t each faction have a symbol, love?”

“Oh, yes! The King’s faction is symbolised by a Lion whilst the Kingdom’s faction is symbolised by a Wolf.”

“Now...about that ceremony,”

You gain a look of worry, “that’s right, why are you postponing it? And for how long? The ceremony happens when a new King takes the throne and a new faction of specialised Knights are selected by him to swear their oath of loyalty,”

“Very good,”

It was tradition for when a new King takes over the throne, the knights that can qualify as Rank A can choose to partake in another test, where they compete against one another in front of the new King and, from that, the new King chooses his new faction of knights. The faction that has sworn their oath of loyalty to the old King cannot swear a new oath as only one oath can be made in a Knight’s life and that same oath will continue to be served until the end of their days. It may sound miserable but it’s all about a knight’s honour and none are happier than fulfilling their sworn oath. This is why it’s so important that the Knight's Oath ceremony is held or else it leaves the King vulnerable to assassination attempts. That alone, makes your heart stutter to an almost complete stop. 

“Why would you dare put yourself in such danger, Jungkook?” your mind wanders to the recent war and its repercussions on his safety for being the one to win and end it.

“I’ll be fine, it’s you that I’m worried about, my love,” Jungkook lets his worries show through with the furrowing of his brows as he moves to sit beside you once again, “I accept you as my Queen but many nobles who want their daughters to marry me and become royalty will have differing opinions. Instead, I plan on secretly creating a new faction of knights, they are to serve only you,”

You couldn’t believe your ears, “Me?...”

“Yes. The preparations for the ceremony will take some time after I have fully announced my decision so we have some waiting to do. I also play for their symbol be that of an Iris,”

“Why an Iris?”

“It was a flower that my mum associated with my Dad but my father and I both agreed that it always purely encompassed her, the perfect queen. It represents faith, wisdom, hope and valour, just like you. You had faith in me when no one else did, you enriched me with the wisdom and kindness I could never seem to obtain despite my privilege of being born a prince, you gave me hope for a better future and you are far more valourous than I could ever be; taking on this Queen training for when I took you away from where you grew up, I can’t imagine how fearful and anxious you must be but I want to tell you that you are doing amazing, so so amazing, my love,” you don’t know why but you began to tear up. It hadn’t been but a few weeks and, despite all Jungkook’s efforts to make you comfortable, it didn’t take away how hard this all was on you. It was stressful and so overwhelming. At least, you had Jungkook and Taehyung by your side, without them, you would have fallen apart already. 

“Thank you...” you whispered.

Jungkook leans forward enough for your noses to touch and holds your face in both of his hands, it’s so intimate and loving as he whispers only for you to hear, “anything for my Queen...”

And he meant every word. It was all too quick of a transition and demanded too much of a person to speed through queen training without the knowledge of being a noble but Jungkook was at a bind, he may be the King but the uncertainty of his people and worries of his council were a heavy weight he couldn’t ignore nor sweep aside so easily. As a result, there was a lot of pressure on you to do well, quickly and Jungkook always felt guilty for putting you in such a difficult place, however, it made him strive towards doing his job as King better. In a sense you were each others’ motivation to achieve good things, all with the same goal; to be able to stand proudly at each other’s side. 

Jungkook believes only a true and valiant king is worthy of your love. Likewise, you believe that only a grand and illustrious queen is worthy of him.  

Many times, Jungkook reassured you that you could take your time learning all these new things. Being introduced to the world of nobility and being forced to undergo such a strict and rigorous studying regime that noble ladies usually begin at the age of eight, was a heavy burden. You weren’t going to be convinced otherwise, however, Jungkook was an amazing King so you had to become just as amazing in order to competently stand beside him on the throne. It was a big responsibility that you decided to take on and you were going to follow it through to the very end; if your parents had ever taught you anything it was to follow your heart and finish what you started with everything you’ve got so that you don’t live with any regrets moving forward. 

“My lady, it’s best for you to sleep now so that you may be able to rise with the birds tomorrow,” Jennie speaks up with a look of worry etched across her sweet face, she, along with the rest of your ladies in waiting - Lisa, Jisoo and Rosé - were stood a few steps away from your writing desk as you burn candle after candle reading and revising the passages in your assigned books for the week, each of them worried for your wellbeing but all had pride swell deep within their chests at your studious and determined manner. You hadn’t begun official queen training yet as you had to get accustomed to the basics first, however, you were treating your current studies as if they were the real thing and they couldn’t be any more proud or happy for you. 

“Oh…” you look up to gaze at the clock, “I apologise ladies, you may head on to bed now, you must be very tired,” standing up, you stretch your tired arms and turn to face them. You watch as they exchange looks of apprehension and smile warmly at their fretting, “don’t worry, I promise that I will also head off to bed, thank you for your concern,” at your reassurance, they smile and bow simultaneously before setting out to help you prepare for bed. As soon as you were tucked under the covers, you were out like a light and in a deep slumber, leaving the ladies to quietly tiptoe out of your room by themselves. 

Not long after your chamber doors were shut and your ladies in waiting had made it into their own rooms for the night, Jungkook finally made it to your door. He had more to do today than anticipated and had made it over later than usual. It had become a ritual for him to sleep in your room, at your palace for the night even though it was heavily looked down upon by noble society and his council, nevertheless, he didn’t care; he had five long years to make up for, after all. 

“(Y/N), my love are you still awake?” Jungkook gently knocks and waits but receives no response. Nonetheless, he sneaks in anyway and sighs softly at your slumbering figure, he takes a moment to observe your busy desk of books and papers and pens. You’re working so hard, it’s inspiring and very cute but…he steps up to stand beside you and looks down at the restless expression on your face. Despite being asleep, you were still somewhat wakeful. Something needed to be done and…Jungkook just might know what to do. Thankfully, he anticipated the circumstance and started preparing sooner rather than later. 

Approaching your third month of tutelage means gradually advancing into your official Queen studies, you deserve a break after all that rigorous cramming on the basics. Your tutors predicted 6 months of studies to be sufficient for your general knowledge but you were already proving them wrong with your erudite manner and speed through content across various subjects. You prove to be much more promising than anticipated and they were excited to have such an enthusiastic student to nurture with their knowledge. Each tutor was a master of their craft so they all appreciated your enthusiasm to learn. 

Despite this great news, Jungkook worries for your wellbeing. Progressing so swiftly but thoroughly through content mustn’t be good for your mind.

Taking off his shoes and shirt, Jungkook nestles into the sheets beside you and pulls you close. He tucks your nose into his collar and smiles as he feels you cuddle in closer and sigh contentedly from his warmth. So cute…you’re so very cute and he wants to kiss you so badly but you’re tired and need a good amount of rest before your busy day begins again in the morning. Jungkook settles for kissing your forehead with a feather’s touch before slipping into a dreamless sleep himself. 

A tender caress; a familiar scent; a sweet warmth and a weighted comfort. It isn’t the golden embellishments, meticulously polished surfaces or the opulent furnishings that made you feel lavish; all the riches in the world could never measure up to the precious feeling it brought you to wake up in the arms of your love. Despite him sleeping over in your chambers regularly, it never took away that loving feeling you feel every time you wake up to him beside you. 

Bathing peacefully beneath the warm touch of golden sunbeams, the king slumbers on before you. He is reduced to a vulnerable, soft cub, coddled by your embrace and layers of cotton sheets. There isn’t a singular line of burden to trace along his brows nor is there evident anxiety tensing up his muscular, naked shoulders. It’s an image you will treasure for the rest of your years. Rather than the oppressing responsibilities weighing on his back and taxing his health, you wish that he forever slumbers in serenity.

And yet… selfish greed swells up from a bottomless pit of ravenous emotions housed deep in your heart. Unsatisfied and aggravated, clawing out for a modicum relief.

‘Wake up,’ the cavernous depths of your mind beg greedily, ‘look at me,’ you crave being ensnared by his beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that hold the comfort of the world to you, eyes that have the ability to strike a thrilling excitement but also affectionate ease deep in your heart.  You almost claw at his bare and chiselled chest from the crippling desperation of your want- your need to drown in his amorous gaze. Gone was your exhaustion from the previous day as it is swamped by your burning desires. 

As if hearing your silent plea, it isn’t long before you’re greeted by the sweet, chocolate pools you adore so much. The instant they connect with your loving stare and register the velvet threading of your dexterous fingers through his unkempt mop of hair, they scrunch up into an adorable smile.

“Good morning,” you whisper with all the love you could muster and kiss his slightly chapped lips. Still sluggish with sleep, his doe eyes disappear once more with an endearing scrunch before he dives to bury his face into your collarbone, pushing you onto your back and eliciting a giggle from your plush lips.

“Mmmm~” he moans roughly into your exposed skin, laying half of himself on top of you, unable to hold himself up out of pure laziness and his want to always be touching, “I love that sound…” he whispers the sentiment into the delicate space between your collarbones before placing a tender kiss onto your sweet skin as if to seal the loving words into your softness.

“What sound?” Does he mean your voice?

“You’re cute giggles,” the statement makes him giggle with you once more, both of your hearts sprouting wings of flight and making your chest feel weightless, “I love waking up to you,” he whispers, somewhat, belligerent.

“Jungkook…” you warn gently but with a hint of humour; you share the feeling but the rule was to not sleep in the same room until you were finally married, all in a pointless effort to prevent rumours amongst the serving royal staff.

“They can’t keep me away,” he continues to pepper kisses up and down the sensitive column of your neck, sometimes daring to dive lower and lower until his lips brush the forbidden line tracing the plush cushiness of your chest, modestly clothed by the trimmings of your flowy nightgown, “never…not from you,” staring down at him with your skin ablaze at the erotic snarl in his words, your eyes widen at the heated gaze he’s already trapping you under, his strong hands on your waist pulling you into his figure and locking you there, eating you up mercilessly with his eyes. If it wasn’t with his stare, it would be with his abundance of kisses, like a hard candy melting onto your tongue, Jungkook wants to melt and consume you with his lips, “I Am The King!” his hold on you begins to shake and his strong figure crumbles, “And yet! They demand I stay away when I can finally have you all to myself and away from all those devious lessons and evil paperwork,” he laments and shudders at the mention of the greatest evil keeping you two apart, endless paperwork and your lessons.

“There there~…” you coo softly, assuring him the way you would your little brother, “you know it’s only a precaution,” he grumbles childishly at your statement, burying his face into your neck once more, as if shielding himself from the reality he doesn’t want to face, “and besides…” he looks up and you both grin cheekily, “no one’s said anything about you sneaking into my bed to sleep so far,”       

“The staff already adore you,” Jungkook muses, “I knew you’d make a brilliant queen,”

“I’m not a queen yet,”

“But you will undoubtedly be a phenomenal one, and you'll be all mine,” Jungkook moves up and tucks your face into his firm chest, one arm circling your shoulder to press you close as his other hand gently holds the back of your head, it’s an intimate cradle that has you sighing in content, “not two months into your general studies and you’ve learned all the basics already, that's such fast progress,” your heart sings at the praise and you have to bite your lip to humble your beaming smile. It doesn’t work half as effectively as when you resort to pressing your face into Jungkook’s chest, however, “you’re so smart, you're so amazing...you're so perfect,”

There’s nothing for you to say; you know Jungkook knows how grateful you are for him and words aren’t enough to express it. Instead, you lean down and initiate a kiss, opaque with love and fathomless with gratitude. To think you were so blessed after having experienced paralysing tragedies so early on in your life.

You are grateful to Jungkook for many things but the most you are grateful for is his unconditional love.

Soon enough, Jungkook had to leave for his royal duties that morning and your ladies in waiting pretended not to see anything. Once he was gone, they entered your room and got you dressed for your morning lessons, leading you to now, where you are revising the material outside under the afternoon sun with Taehyung playing around in the garden. Some staff stood by to assist where they were needed and kept a close eye on your little brother, especially if he got close to the pond. 

“Would you like some more tea, my lady?” Jisoo asks upon seeing your empty cup.

“Yes please,” she nods and refills your cup beside, “thank you, Jisoo,” she bows gently and steps back to stand with the others. You sip the tea for a small break and turn to look at Taehyung crouched down beside a bed of flowers as Hoseok stood beside him. Listening closely, you were able to pick up their conversation.

“You seem more lethargic than usual, young master,” Hoseok pipes up, “whatever is the matter?”

“What does leather-gic mean, Hoseok?” 

“Lethargic means tired, young master,” the red head explains, “now, what’s wrong so that we may fix it?”

“Oh…” Taehyung registers the explanation and sighs at being acknowledged as acting differently. He didn’t want to arouse any suspicion or concern over his well being because that would make you worry and you were already really stressed over your studies, he is undergoing his own studies as well but he can tell that his isn’t as intense as yours; you always have books and papers and notes piled up around you, it’s never ending and very unlike how you only used to be surrounded by flowers at the shop. Maybe that’s why you try to study in the garden as much as possible since the scenery and affluent arrangement of flora is somewhat familiar to you, Taehyung feels the same way, “it’s okay Hoseok-hyung, I’m alright,” Taehyung grins in an attempt to reassure the butler but quickly turns back to take a close look at the flowers before him, hoping that the red-head doesn’t see the falter in his smile. 

In the beginning, getting to explore the palace, running around freely in such a pretty and expansive garden and getting to eat a lot of yummy foods was a lot of fun but all those things didn’t take away the strange, upsetting feeling festering inside Taehyung of having to get used to a new environment, a new routine and new people surrounding him. Everyone was always nice but that was only because they had to serve him; he doesn’t have a singular true friend. 

“Now we both know that’s not true, young master…” Hoseok points out but is only met with silence. Taehyung refuses to say another word or turn to look up at the butler, he knows he’s being rude but being forced to face what he was desperately trying to suppress made familiar faces flash in his mind and an aching feeling overwhelms his chest. He misses them so much. It’s so lonely without them around, even though he has his noona beside him. As his eyes begin to water, Hoseok surprises him with a seemingly innocuous comment, “though, I’m sure you won’t feel so saddened for long, his highness has prepared something very special for you and his lady,” Taehyung finally looks up at the red-head but upon doing so is tackled to the ground. 

“You’re it, Tae!” as quickly as the voice of his very best friend rings in his ears, Jimin is just as quickly bolting away, leaving Taehyung to lean up on his elbows from his fall, “Are you gonna catch me or not?!” 

“Jimin!” Taehyung laughs with a wide grin, his tears of loneliness instantly being blinked away and replaced by tears of immense joy and relief. His best friend was here! 

“Come on already Tae!” Jimin stops running away to address his friend, hands on his hips with his feet wide apart, “You’re already bad at hide and seek, you can’t be bad at tag too!” 

“Oh yeah?! Watch!” Taehyung leaps onto his feet and twice the amount of laughter fills the air of the lush and sparkling garden. 

Staring in awe at the scene, your heart aches in happiness for your brother. So distracted by your studies and lessons, you must have neglected his own mental wellbeing. He must have been so lonely and sad and scared. What a relief it is to have Jimin visit him so suddenly and with such a bright smile too. You don’t know if you should be happy for your little brother or beg on your knees with apologies spilling from your lips because you were being such a horrible older sister. Swamped with emotions, you didn’t register the steady steps approaching you with the turning of wheels accompanying them. 

“I know what you’re thinking with that watery look in your eyes and I’m here to tell you to stop that right now!” a familiar, scolding voice speaks up beside you and you turn to see Jin dressed in a chef uniform, “You’re a great older sister to Taehyung and that’s why he didn’t want you to worry about him, now…” he turns to pick up a tray from the push cart beside him and offers it to you as you continue to stare in shock at his figure, “I’ve baked all your favourites so eat up!” he’s grinning from ear to ear at you and your own eyes water even more. Wordlessly, you take one of your favourite desserts from his offered tray and bite into it as your tears finally spill over to trail down your cheeks. 

“They’re as yummy as always,” you muse in between shy hiccups, trying your best to hold back your tears of joy and relief. Smiling warmly at you, Jin leans down and pulls you into a long, tight embrace. You savour his warmth and familiar scent of bread and sweet treats. Not only did you neglect Taehyung’s loneliness but your own too. How could you become a good queen from this, you almost laugh at yourself as you happily give Jin a squeeze of comfort. He’s really here! You’re so grateful but how…

Catching a glimpse over his broad shoulder, your blurred vision picks up Jungkook’s figure beside a garden statue. Blinking, your vision clears up and you watch Jungkook smiling at the scene before him. This must be his doing…

You give Jin another squeeze and mouth the words ‘thank you’ over his shoulder at Jungkook, who simply bows. 

On his lips, he mouths back, ‘Anything for my Queen’.

NEXT.

NAVI. | THE PRINCE WITH THE UGLY HEART MLIST

TAGLIST : @krystle1990 ; @jungkookieyoongs ; @laabellaavitaa21 ; @jeonseagurl ; @minifruity ; @whalerus ; @vanilla-smash ; @kimsdope ; @jungshookmeup ; @satisfied18 ; @justraintan ; @prdshobi ; @janjaiii ; @lovinggalaxies ; @aijoukook ; @blxxmpetals ; @babyrosieareroses ; @outrofenty ; @jjeykayy ; @lovelytaes-blog ; @soleil-lei ; @kookcobain ; @headintheclouddd ; @sugaslittlekookies ; @meiouseiiii ; @reallysparklychaos ; @galaxyflab ; @xmagicxshopx ; @sea-nevermind-enthusiast ; @jeonseagurl ; @minifruity ; @aijoukook ; @jeonstudios ; @purplewinterluv

i'm sorry i didn't include the taglist sooner, dolls! i also apologise for those that i couldn't tag

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bangtanfairygarden #jungkook x reader #beauty and the beast au #jungkook beauty and the beast au #jungkook prince au #bts royalty au #reader florist au #bts fairy tale au #bts fantasy au #bts fluff #jungkook fluff

[ditttiii]

blurred lines | ot3 x reader | m.

⇢ summary: being in a no strings attached relationship with your three gorgeous roommates was never easy but it turns a few dozen times more complicated when they propose having sex in a running train. 

⇢ genre: pwp, literal porn do not look for any redeeming qualities coz there are none, smut, and then fluff coz duh it’s me. 

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader x taehyung x jimin  (foursome)

⇢ word count: undisclosed for the one-shot, 1.1k for the teaser. 

⇢ theme: friends with benefits, fwb!au, roommate au

⇢warning/s: public/train sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus (female receiving), heavy petting, teasing, orgasm denial/edging, double & triple penetration, breast play, spanking, teasing, squirting, creampie, dom!jungkook, dom!taehyung, sub!jimin, sub/brat!reader, dirty talk, disciplining (consensual tho), oral (male receiving)/ blowjob, gagging, spitting, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex (birth control god bless), rough sex, door(?) sex, power play, slight pain kink, restraints (belts/ties), marking, loads and tons of aftercare coz i will always be a soft bish. 

⇢ a/n: thought i’d do something to truly deserve the inevitable journey to hell. the full one-shot will be out soon and please don’t judge me lmao. thanks @chemicalpink for beta’ing this teaser and @eatjeanjin for being a true hype queen. ily two!

All the breath in your lungs escapes you when the front of your torso is slammed harshly against the glass door, the clangs of the train’s shifting gears, ringing distantly in your ears. Gasping, you squirm and try to move away, the chill of the early morning seeping into you through the thin layer of your camisole but pause when you feel a palm ghosting against the curve of your back. 

“Jungkook!”

Your hissed warning goes ignored as the man presses his entire front against your back, his tall, muscular, built tight against every inch of your soft curves. 

 “Yes, y/n-ssi?” His response is teasing, breathy in a knee-weakening kind of way as he whispers it close to your ear. His breath fans against the shell, and you bite back a moan when his full lips graze the sensitive skin there before moving to nuzzle the back of your ear. 

 “Ah...”

 Despite your best attempt at trying to stay quiet and not let a single sound slip past your lips, a moan tumbles out before you can bite it in and the answering groan that Jungkook lets out crowded so close to you sounds absolutely carnal. 

 “Tell me what you want, baby.” He grunts, nipping the shell of your ear and edging to the long curve of your neck before his tongue slips out and licks a long wet trail from the nape of your neck back to your ear. 

“Jungkoook stop! I-ah!” your response is half-formed, words and syllables tearing apart like wet paper under his touch. You try to shove his wandering hands off, but there is no real force behind if you are being honest to yourself. 

 “Oh?” The single syllable sounds cheeky, amused, as though he knows you are just putting on a show, and your returning huff is part annoyance, part exasperation. 

 “I am serious Jungkook, we are not doing this right now.” You try to put as much steel behind your voice as you can, hoping to keep your tone firm as you work to leave no space for an argument, but it ends up coming out wobbly. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook asks again as he puts his entire weight into pushing you from behind until your front is pressed painfully close to the glass door, and you bite your lip to prevent any noise from slipping out yet again.

 “Is that so?” his tone is mocking, sardonic as though he is amused at your attempt at trying to call the shots. Before you can reply, the hand that had been on your ass all along moves and ere you can guess its destination there is a sting of a slap on the flesh of your thigh, a half-muffled squeak ringing in the air between you two.

“How about you say that again when I am buried deep in your cunt, huh?” Jungkook growls, and every muscle in your body tightens like a string pulled taut, your heat clenching in on itself as your mouth goes dry in response to the clear intimations of trouble.

 Fuck. 

Nuzzling the curve of your neck, he asks again, “I can be so good to you. Baby, don’t you like it when I make you cum?” his intentions are clear, words shameless and entirely too vulgar, but rather than finding them repulsive, they pull you in, the heat in your belly simmering in response. 

“God you look so pretty when you come over my tongue. Taste so sweet. Let me make you feel good y/n, tell me what you want.”

Whimpering, your thighs clench as a bolt of arousal and want shoots straight through your core in response. It was a losing battle, you knew right from the start, but you had to at least try. However, all your inhibitions are thrown out the window when both his hands grip your ass, prying the cheeks apart, his bulging arousal nestling comfortably in between the flesh. 

 “I want you, Kookie.” You manage to push out as his fingers skim the edge of your panties, never wholly slipping in, but caressing the border, the sensitive juncture where your thigh meets your dripping heat. 

 “Oh, so now I am Kookie, huh?” 

His fingers continue to tease the edge of your panties, skimming over your thighs and ass, while his other hand glides over from your waist to your chest. Sliding over the almost sheer camisole you had worn, it squeezes the flesh beneath.

The force with which you bite back a cry has you lurching backwards. Hips pushing back against Jungkook’s front while your head tilts forward to rest against the glass door. The thrill of having him touch you, squeeze you, of having him do things he clearly shouldn’t be in the middle of a fucking train, has your blood pumping, lust and reckless arousal coursing through your veins. 

 “What if someone sees us?” You ask, worrying your lip under your teeth and biting back a squeal when Jungkook twists one of your nipples, kneading the fat under with the back of his palm at the same time. 

“Well then they’ll know just how good you can be for me.” Jungkook answers sounding almost giddy, as though he actually wants others to see you fall apart for him, cry his name out as he brings you to the edge of ecstasy, and you huff, driving your elbow back into his side in response to the thoughts you can practically hear whirring inside that pretty head of his. 

 “I am serious, Jungkook.” You scold, subtly eyeing the people around you from the corner of your eye. The two of you are in the back of the train, and with your front pressed to the transparent glass door, the only chance of someone seeing you is if they either see Jungkook before and then realize what you two are doing, or if someone sees you from the other side of the glass door. 

 Dammit. There’s too much risk.

 “Jungkook no, anybody could see us—” You start, ready to refuse and put a stop to his ministrations as you twist your neck to look him in the eye, only for your protests to die on a dry tongue at the sight that greets you. 

 Standing there beside Jungkook, their postures lazy are your other two roommates, wicked grins stretched wide across both their faces. 

 ‘I’m so screwed.’

⇢ a/n: don't have much to say atm, but I hope y'all like it. have a nice day <3 

#jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #btsghostie #btsgoldnet #thebtswritersclub #vantaenet #bangtanfairygarden #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #kim taehyung smut #park jimin smut #jungkook #taehyung #jimin #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jimin fanfic #jungkook scenarios #taehyung scenarios #jimin scenarios #jungkook pwp

[gguksgalaxy]

Stranded | JJK | E2L

Jungkook’s offer to help you study for your exam is unwelcome. His entire presence is unwelcome. You don’t want help from the guy who passes all his classes without even trying. It’s annoying — he is annoying. From the way he grins whenever he catches you staring at him, to the way his eyes shine whenever he smiles at you. Oh, and let’s not forget the way his tattoos shift when he stretches or the way his jawline sharpens when he’s focused. Nope, you definitely can’t stand him.

›› AU: Enemies to lovers, fuck/badboy!Jungkook ›› Genre: Fluff / Smut / Angst ›› Rating: NC-17 (explicit sexual content, 18+) ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 13k ›› Jungkook Snuggle Drabbles. Warnings Include: A lot of swearing, heavy themes of miscommunication and strong judgements, Jungkook sleeps around a lot, university related stress, brief mention of past underage drinking, emotional and romantic angst, argument, the desecration of a mug.  Sexual content: Protected sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, face sitting/riding.

A/N: This one's for you @fallinforkoo I hope that you like it!! This is not something I would usually write but the idea popped up when seeing the request so here she is! A little cliché but I hope it's original enough. Let me know what you guys think!

“As your best friend,” Taehyung says sheepishly over the phone, “I really need you to do me a favour.”

You groan, leaning your head over the edge of the bed. “I don’t like where this is going.”

He hums. He doesn’t even laugh. There’s just a brief silence before he asks you the impossible. “I need you to invite Jungkook for the get-together on Friday.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you spit. “Taehyung, my best friend, the platonic love of my life. I will do anything for you. Literally anything. I would suck your toes if you asked me, but I won’t do that.”

Now he laughs, loud and deep. It only makes you sulk more. Inviting Jeon Jungkook into your humble abode? To have him walk around with that smug—and delectably gorgeous—grin on his face as he finds something to make fun of? Not over your dead body. Not in a million years.

“Please, do it for me.”

You vigorously shake your head. “I don’t see how I would be doing you a favour by inviting him. You don’t even like him!”

“I mean...I really don’t mind him. But I like Jimin, a lot, and I feel bad for excluding his friend all the time, it’s starting to get weird. Can’t you just invite him over? I promise you won’t have to talk to him.”

Oh, but you do. Because Jungkook always manages to weasel under your skin and get you worked up to a point where you just have to say something. It’s not your fault that he’s such an ass. He just rubs you all the wrong ways. “I am in a constant state of wanting to rip his head off. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Jungkook is just so...You really cannot stand him. First of all, he doesn’t study. All he does is party and sleep around with random girls. Yet, he still somehow manages to be at the top of the class. Secondly, he’s a dick. He has no respect for both his elders and you. Any chance he gets he will make fun of you or blatantly insult you. And lastly, he looks too good and he knows it. Walking around campus just basking in the attention from all the girls, and guys, who want him despite his reputation.

Taehyung snorts. “If I were you, I would be more worried that you’re in a constant state of wanting to suck his dick.”

“I’d rather snap his dick in half.” Sometimes you wonder why you’re friends with Taehyung. After all, he’s the one who told Jimin to bring along his friend. Now, you’re regularly exposed to Jeon Jungkook’s incessant flirting with anything that breathes, constant whining about just about everything, and complete lack of personal space. Taehyung had been certain that if you got to know Jungkook outside of class, it would make you more amicable towards each other. However, it’s only made it worse.

“You know, sometimes people lie about something so often that they start to feel like it’s the truth.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up on the bed. It’s noon already. You really should be studying for your Psychology of Law exam. Also known as the course from hell. As a law student, you really can’t make sense of the material. All the mumbling about internal thought processes and stressors has your mind logging off. You’re chapters behind. You don’t even know where to start. Because unlike a certain someone, you actually have to study. Even with all-nighters, thorough summaries, and flashcards, you’ve still managed to fail quite a few classes. The future of your law degree literally balances on this one class. If you fail, you lose your scholarship.

“Are you still with me?”  Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, I’m just considering defenestrating myself. Anything better than studying for psych.”

“Even inviting Jungkook?”

“Anything but that.”  It’s not like Taehyung is completely wrong. Jungkook looks like a model when he actually decides to groom himself instead of showing up to class in sweats and uncombed hair. You’re way too aware that he works out five days a week. Or that he’s got tats lining his arm, intricate designs that—No. You’re not falling down this hole today.

Taehyung’s typing something up, probably studying for his own exams. “I will let you study then. Just please, invite him over. I will forever be in your debt. Be the better person.”

The sweet lining to Taehyung’s plea actually manages to work for once. He’s your best friend, after all. He would probably do the same thing for you. It’s just not that fun to be around Jungkook when part of you—as much as you may deny it—feels some type of way about him.

“I will consider it.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Don’t make me change it back to a no, Kim.”

He chuckles. “Someday, you will thank me. That day being the one when you finally come to terms with your feelings.”

“Bye, Taehyung,” you grumble, ending the call and throwing the phone down on the duvet.

So yes, maybe you do have a thing for Jungkook. Doesn’t make him any less annoying. If anything, it makes him even more insufferable. Why did you have to develop a weird crush on a guy you can’t even stand? The world doesn’t have to be cruel like that. But here you are. Not that it matters. Jungkook would sleep with just about any girl but you. Which says more about them.

Reluctantly, you get up and grab your books from your desk. Studying is easier in the living room, away from distractions.

Your peace doesn’t last long. Not even halfway through your first coffee, your doorbell rings.

Groaning, you get up and prepare your best ‘no I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling’ face. Upon unlocking the door, that face falters.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you spit out the moment you see Jungkook’s big doe eyes. He’s standing on your doorstep like he’s supposed to be here. With his backpack nonchalantly slung over one shoulder.

He looks past you, into your apartment. “Oh, you started studying for psych?”

Your living room is a mess. “Well, I was trying to start, but I’ve been rudely interrupted by someone who has no invitation to be here.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m here to make sure that you don’t fail another class and have to drop out.” Like he owns the place, he pushes past you and waltzes inside. He drops his backpack and readjusts his baseball cap, showing off his forehead and chocolate brown hair. It’s really starting to get long.

“I don’t need your help.” There’s no way he’s here just to help you study. And even if he was, he’s just going to distract you. You’re not friends. He must have some ulterior motive for being here. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t study, let alone help people study. Not to your knowledge at least. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

He grabs his laptop from his bag. “What part of ‘having to drop out if you fail another class’ did you not understand?” He puts the device down and gets comfortable on your couch. As if he’s done it before.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Who told you about that?”

He shrugs. “Jimin mentioned it, he must have it from Taehyung. Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” you sneer. “I didn’t ask you to be here. I don’t want you to be here. There’s no way I’m going to get anything done with you around. Get the fuck out.” You point a finger at the door, waiting for him to leave. “Do you not hear me?”

“Oh, I heard you. I’m just waiting for you to get over yourself and realise that you actually need my help.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you tell me the difference between compliance and suggestion in the context of a police hearing?” he questions, leaning back and propping his clunky boot-clad feet onto the table.

You press your lips together in a thin line, thinking about a possible answer.

He grins. “Any idea what the Reid Technique is and why it is or isn’t ethical?”

“No,” you grumble.

“You know what the pros and cons are of an Oslo style eyewitness lineup?”

You shake your head, dropping your arms in defeat. He’s got you. You don’t know anything. Maybe you do need his help. As long as he tries to be nice, you can give him the benefit of the doubt. Another year of your degree is definitely worth it.

Jungkook pats the spot on the couch beside him. “Let’s get started, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to get you a good grade.”

And so you get to work. Jungkook makes himself a little too comfortable in your home. Aside from pulling out his flashcards, multiple summaries and annotated materials, he actually slips into the kitchen to make tea. He raids your pantry for snacks and pulls out your blanket from under the table.

“What?” He says, mouth stuffed with gummy bears while he unfolds the blanket. “I’m sorry, but your apartment is really fucking cold. Since you’re dressed as if you’re going to the North Pole, I assumed the radiator must be broken.”

“It has been almost a week now. My landlord is being an ass about it. Also, I’m wearing normal clothes that normal people wear when it’s cold outside. Unlike you, with your short-sleeves and thin coat.”

“It’s October.”

“It’s nine degrees outside. You’re insane.”

“No,” he says, sitting back down with the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m just hot.”

A reluctant smile pulls at your lips. Why must you betray yourself?

He leans in close, inspecting your face. “I can’t believe I lived to see the day. You actually smiled at one of my jokes.”

If he’s good at one thing, it’s definitely proving that he’s an annoying shit. “I’m laughing at how pathetic you are.”

“At least I’m not the one who tried to hide her smile.”

“And I’m not the one who forced his way into this apartment. I’d watch out, some people might start to think you actually like being around me.” You turn back towards his laptop, scrolling through the document to the next topic. Police hearings.

Jungkook puts his hand down behind you so he can get closer—too close—and look over your shoulder. “Maybe,” he whispers, “I do like spending time with you.”

You whip your head around so fast you nearly knock heads with him. He doesn’t move. Both your noses basically touching. At this proximity you can see all the fine details in his skin. The flecks of lighter brown in his eyes that really do shine. The moles on his nose, the scar on his cheek.

“Nah.” He pulls away. “I’m just messing with you. I still don’t like you.”

What on earth did you do to make him come over here? If he dislikes you so much, he shouldn’t have bothered. You’re not a charity case. “If you’d just let me fail, you wouldn’t have to put up with me again.”

He tuts. “Where’s the fun in that? I’d honestly miss your bad comebacks and petty remarks.”

“Excuse me, my comebacks are not bad?”

“They’re mediocre at best, ma’am,” he laughs, grin showing the fullness of his cheeks that make him look deceptively cute.

You shiver at the thought. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not cute. Yes, he’s probably a good guy deep down, but he’s not cute. Jeon Jungkook is and always will be an annoying, self-entitled, arrogant brat. Nothing is going to change your mind. Not even the way your heart beats faster from just having him so close.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” you bite.

“I’m not even going to give you any points for that. You didn’t even try!” He makes an exasperated gesture as he grabs another handful of gummies.

‘Childish’ should be added to the list. “Are you here to help me study or not?”

Jungkook nods, sitting cross-legged. “Just so I get to bother you for another year.”

The two of you get back to work. He takes you through a very detailed and too dramatic explanation of the Reid technique. You find yourself captivated by how passionate he seems. He sure does know a lot about the subject.

Jungkook turns out to be a very active talker. He makes very detailed descriptions and uses his hands to explain things. It’s easy to understand him, but it’s way harder to memorise it. As the material gets more complicated, he gets more serious and you start to lose track. His frown deepens, dimple-like creases appearing in his cheek that make him look sharper and older. You can’t help but stare.

He’s so handsome. The tattoos that circle around his left arm shift as he speaks. The same way that his earrings dangle as he moves. You get caught up in him, the way he talks, the passion that rolls off him in waves.

“Are you gawking at me?”  He says, stopping his movements mid-air.

Cheeks flushed, you try to come up with a smart reply. “I was thinking whether your head has always looked this big.”

His lips pull into a straight line. “I’m here trying to do my best to explain to you what the difference is between an Oslo confrontation and a sequential lineup, and you’re worried about the size of my fucking head?”

“I mean, it’s awfully big, no?”  You poke his forehead.

He grabs your wrist in return, pulling your body towards him. “Can you at least try to appreciate my effort?”

“I’m listening!”

Wetting his lips, he arches an eyebrow. “Explain the difference to me.”

Well, you weren’t listening that intently. “Uh, a sequential lineup has a lower chance of causing false positives.”

“That’s the last sentence I said, you can do better.” He lets go of you so you can lean back. For a second, he actually seems pissed off. Maybe you should try, he’s doing his best after all. It’s just hard when he’s here looking this good.

“Oslo confrontations feature the suspects in a lineup at the same time, whereas a sequential lineup shows them one by one.” That’s all you got.

“Well,” he says, throwing you a gummy from the bag. “You got one point out of five.”

Treat halfway to your mouth, you stop. “One?!”

He nods. “And I’m being generous with you. First of all, you cannot call them suspects, they’re candidates or possible suspects. There’s usually only one suspect and the rest are actors who look like the suspect. You also missed the part where, during the sequential lineup, the witness doesn’t get to see all the suspects. Once they pick the one they think is the perpetrator, they will not get to see the additional candidates.”  Why does this sound so hot when he says it?

God, you’re going insane. “Well, I’ll try to remember that and the seven-hundred other things you said. All the blabbering you do makes it really hard.”  It comes out harsher than you intended. From the way Jungkook stays silent, you know it must’ve hit home.

He gets up, making your heart sink. “I think it’s time for a break. You’re getting frustrated. Do you want to order pizza?”

“I don’t recall asking you to stay over for dinner.”

Jungkook takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes. You can feel the anger build up. “Listen, I’m here to help you. The least you can do is fucking appreciate it. Be stubborn all you want, but you need this. You want a shot at this degree. I’m here, because as much as I can’t stand you, I won’t enjoy watching you get kicked off the entire program because you’re struggling with the material.”  There’s a heavy pause. You let his words sink in. The level of concern is surprising. It’s sweet. “So do you want to order pizza or not? Because I’m starving.”

You nod. “Pizza sounds good.”

The tension ebs away after that. Jungkook goes into the kitchen and comes back with a mug filled with milk, of all things. You bite your tongue.

“I want pineapple on my pizza,” he says.

Pausing, you raise your eyebrows. “You cannot be serious.”

“Depends. How much do you hate pineapple?” His shit eating grin returned like it was never gone. It gives him away.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you speak; “So, double pineapple for you?”

Suddenly, his face falters. “Whoa, you can’t actually do that to me.”

“You’re the one who said he likes pineapple!”

“It was a joke. No person in their right mind would put fruit on their pizza.”  He sits next to you, taking another sip of his milk. “I’m really not picky though, but the one with the jalapenos is good. Or the chili chicken.”  Jungkook scoots closer so he can scroll through the menu on your phone, hand brushing against yours.

This way, you get a clear view of the rose tattoo on his hand. It’s beautiful, detailed but still in a traditional style. It suits him, as do his other tattoos. Though this one has always stood out to you.

“I’m just going to get pepperoni,” you say after a while.

Jungkook sighs, then turns his head to whisper in your ear; “Boring.”

Startled, you shove him so hard he falls onto his back. “Don’t be such a child. I’m not going to make you eat it.”

When he sits back up, his shirt rises and reveals the edge of a narrow, toned waist. You look away, focusing on actually ordering the pizza. Jungkook really doesn’t have to be so casually attractive. He’s not even trying and you can’t keep your eyes off him, noticing something new every minute. A good reason to not spend any more time with him after this.

“Gimme.” He plucks your phone out of your hands so he can order his own pizza. With the utmost concentration, he scrolls and types in some things. No doubt using your pre-set credit card to pay for it. “Wait,” he says, sitting up straight. “Whoa, you’re friends with Yoongi? As in Min Yoongi? The guy who won this year’s mock court?”

Gasping, you dart over to grab the phone from him. “Don’t go through my messages!” With one hand on your chest, he manages to keep the device out of your reach. “Jungkook!”

His eyes move over the screen, reading your messages with the third year law student. “Why didn’t you just ask him for help, huh? He seems to like you, and that’s something. I don’t think Yoongi likes anybody.”

You try harder to grab your phone from his hands. It must look insane, your body bent over his, him trying to find ways to hold you off and keep the phone out of your reach. Somehow, you end up squashed between his—way too strong—thighs.

“Jungkook give me my phone back!” you whine.

Something on the screen makes him raise his eyebrows. “Are you two like—you know? Cuz I’ve heard some stuff and—”  

You shake your head, getting uneasy with the fact that he’s really reading your personal messages. “I don’t like Yoongi like that.”

Jungkook lifts his leg, using his knee to push you back. He’s got way too much strength in his body. “Okay, but I’m not sure that he knows that. He’s not a nice guy, you should steer clear of him.”

“Oh, and you would know how? It’s not like you’re such a gentleman.” Again, you try to jump for your phone, but he stops you in time by grabbing your wrist.

Face serious, he holds your gaze. “I’m not kidding. We run in the same circles. He’s a total asshole, you don’t want to get involved with him. You can do better.”

That sure is a way to silence you. You frown, settling back into your seat as Jungkook keeps scrolling through the chat. “I’m not into him, but he’s been texting me for a while. I was in his group for mock court.” Finally, you get your phone back, but your stomach feels uneasy looking at it. Perhaps Yoongi’s messages are a bit forward.

“I don’t know Yoongi well enough to be able to say for sure, but I know enough to tell you that he doesn’t talk to girls like you because he wants to be friends,” Jungkook says with a hand lingering on your thigh.

Way to make you feel good about yourself, Jeon. “What does that mean, girls like me?”

His face changes, eyes wide.

“What are you trying to say?” you press.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he leans forward onto his knees. “All I’m saying is that you don’t deserve to get played by some asshole who’s just trying to get into your pants.”

“Oh.” Is he being for real? He’s looking out for you? This is not how this is supposed to go. Jungkook shouldn’t be nice to you. He shouldn’t be helping you, or care about your wellbeing. He’s a dick and the two of you squabble and yell at each other. Yet, your chest warms at his words. Even if you weren’t looking to get together with Yoongi, it’s good to know he might have alternative motives. “Thank you.”

All he does is nod, before he grabs his laptop to resume where you guys left off. The awkwardness slowly dissipates as he takes you through the entire lineup thing again, just so you’ve got it down. After that you move onto the remaining subjects.

Today sure is strange. You never expected things to be so comfortable with Jungkook. Despite his exasperating personality and your on and off bickering, his presence is pleasant. It doesn’t take long for you to sink into the couch, drinking your third large cup of coffee.

Completely focussed on his monologue, you ask questions very sparingly, enraptured by him. You knew he was smart, he passes his classes with grades of 80% or higher for a reason. However, it’s different to see it in action.

Pizza arrives a little late, much to Jungkook’s dismay. Turns out he’s quite cranky when he gets hungry. He devours his pizza way faster than you can get through half of yours, and he’s quick to inch towards a slice from your box. You smack his hand away, reminding him of how he slandered you for your topping choice. He can have your leftovers from yesterday

“You call this pasta?” he questions in a disgusted tone, crouched down by the fridge

“Take it or starve. Your choice.”

He gets up, nose scrunched. “I’d rather starve, thanks. What exactly do you excel at? Since it’s not school, wit, or cooking.”

“Aim,” you spit, flicking a piece of pepperoni at him. It hits him straight in the cheek and you burst out into a fit of laughter. He stares at you in utter disbelief, removing the greasy piece of meat from his face. Tongue pressed to his cheek, he fights off his own smile—or an insult.

Eventually, he sits back down and goes over the remaining material while you eat. The end comes faster than you expected, his eyes darting to the clock.

“It’s getting late, I should probably go home.”

“What?” You pout. “How can you leave me to my own devices like this?!”

“Because I did what I could. I took you through all the material, now it’s up to you to try and memorise it. I’ve sent you my summaries and I’ll leave my flashcards here.” He grabs his things, meticulously stuffing them back into his backpack. With a heavy heart, you hand him his cap that had fallen to the floor.

Jungkook pushes his hair back, putting his cap on. He looks as nonchalant as he did when he came in. Backpack slung over one shoulder, hand shoved into his pocket. “Good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad my presence was enjoyed.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I only endured you because I want to pass.” Part of that is true. Though, he wasn’t as bad to hang out with as you had originally assumed. Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t around to show off to. Or because he genuinely wanted to help. Which is still weird. “Good luck to you too.”

He waves you goodbye, opening up the door, only to be met with a gust of wind. The sound of rain enters your apartment. Water plummets from the sky by the bucket.

“Shit,” Jungkook peers outside, hesitating in the doorway. “If I don’t show up tomorrow morning, please assume that I have drowned.”

You would’ve laughed at the idea of him getting soaking wet any other day. He came here to help you study and now he has to walk home through the rain. No doubt he’s going to catch a cold dressed the way he is. Maybe you should listen to Taehyung and be the better person for once.

Getting up, you pull him back inside by the string of his backpack. “You can’t go out when it’s like that, you’ll get sick.”

He turns with a smile. “As much as I would like to see you squirm a little longer, I need to study too.”

“You study?”

“How else do you think I get good grades? Eat books for breakfast?”

You shrug. “We can study together tonight?”

Stepping closer, Jungkook forces you back inside. Almost nose to nose. Your heart skips a beat when his breath fans over your face. “Is this just a lame excuse from you to spend more time with me?”

“No. But I can only imagine the tragedy that will befall me if you catch a cold because you were out here helping me study.” You poke a finger into his chest. A grave mistake, it’s way firmer than you’d thought. “If I let you stay over, you no longer owe me one.”

“I’m sorry, but it really sounds like you just want me to stay.” Jungkook inches closer, backing you against the couch.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone rings. Looking over to where it lies on the couch, you see Taehyung’s name displayed. He can wait. You glance back up at Jungkook, who’s nearly chest to chest with you, and also has his eyes locked on the phone.

Then, he grins.

You act fast, snatching the phone from the couch and declining the call before he even gets a chance to touch it. Taehyung really doesn’t need to know that Jungkook is here.

Jungkook himself, however, picks up on this. He chuckles lightly, arching his eyebrow. “Are you trying to hide the fact that I’m here?’”

“I wouldn’t say I was trying to hide it, but I really don’t need my friends to think I’m hanging out with you.”

Jungkook drops his bag in the chair again, curious glint in his eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want to be associated with the likes of you.”

“What am I now? A villain?”

“No, you’re a stuck up fuckboy who does nothing but party and sleep with random girls and yet somehow still manages to pass all his classes. You’re annoying, egotistical, insufferable, pushy, invasive and disrespectful.”  You let out a deep breath. Yeah, maybe Jungkook’s been nice to you today, but he hasn’t changed.

He rolls his eyes. “Well then. I’ll have you know that you are nothing more than an average, boring girl struggling to get by. You’re opinionated, crass, entitled, standoffish, a bad listener, impossibly stubborn and a bit of an airhead.”  The words leave him as if they mean nothing. “It’s not like I’d want to be associated with the likes of you either. But here I am, stranded because of the storm. So you, my dear, are stuck with me tonight. You did offer for me to stay over, after all.”

“Whatever,” you breathe, “let’s just try to study.”

The two of you return to your previous position on the couch, but now, he faces you. With the flashcards in hand, Jungkook reaches into his bag and pulls out a container filled with Maltesers.

The rules are simple. You take turns asking each other questions. If you get it right, you get a chocolate, you get it wrong the person who asked the question gets a chocolate. Easy enough, right? Now that you feel a bit more steady with the material, you should be able to answer some questions correctly. Even if it’s just to rob Jungkook of the satisfaction of eating the entire thing on his own.

Two questions in and the bickering starts. Jungkook’s whining because he’s cold and you can’t turn up the radiator. But since he was the one to leave the door open, it’s his fault that it’s so cold in here to begin with. You’ve long hogged the blanket for yourself and you don’t intend on sharing it. It’s the only barrier that’s keeping you from touching his feet.

“Please,” he pouts. “I’m so cold, you can’t let me freeze to death in this fucking igloo.”

You pull the blanket closer. “No. It’s mine.”

He whines. “Come on, it’s big enough for both of us. It’ll be warmer if we share.”

“No.”

“You do realise I could just take it from you by force.”

“You would not.”

He sits up straighter, putting a hand on the edge of the fabric. “I’m giving you the option now. Either you share, or I’m pulling it from your cold, grabby hands. If you’re just afraid to snuggle with me, you can just say so.”

In order to not admit defeat, you give up half of the blanket so he can shove his legs under it. He extends his legs way past his side of the couch, his feet touching your lower back. You have no choice but to fold one of your legs over his, the other extended by his side. Indeed, it’s warmer this way.

“Now, where were we?” He flips to his next card. “Ah, yes. Weapon focus effect.”

That one you remember clearly. “It’s when a witness’ attention was so focused on the weapon present at the incident that they fail to remember any significant details about the perpetrator. It’s an involuntary process that often leads to inaccurate descriptions of the attackers.” You definitely got that one, no doubt. It’s easy.

Jungkook throws you a chocolate. “Good job, you’re doing well. It seems you listened to what I had to say after all.”

“I mean,” you say, popping the chocolate into your mouth. “I didn’t have that much of a choice but to listen, now did I?”

“You were visually undressing me the entire time. I had assumed your mind was busy with...other things.” He’s doing it on purpose, trying to get some type of reaction from you. Instead, you just bite your lip, not knowing what to say. “Oh, was I right? Tell me, what were you thinking about.”

You let out a sound, throwing a pillow at him. “I wasn’t thinking anything. And I wasn’t undressing you.”

“No, you were thinking of how big my head was, right? Would it,” he pauses, lifting up the blanket to peer underneath, “fit between your thighs?”

“What is wrong with you!” You scream, hands covering your face that quickly turns red.

He laughs in return. “You’re so easily flustered. I’d almost call it cute.”

Peering through your fingers, you frown. “Almost?”

“Yeah, almost. Not quite, because you’re still you.”

In a surge of confidence, you sit up straight and grab the stack of cards again. Not looking at him as you speak. “How about, instead of imagining what I taste like, you tell me what a flashbulb memory is.”

Inches away from choking on his spit, Jungkook doesn’t manage to come up with a smart retort. He just answers your questions with pursed lips and distant eyes. It’s correct though, so you get to throw him a chocolate. Which of course, he catches with his mouth. Show off.

It goes on for another while, storm raging outside. With the winds turned, you can now clearly hear the pattering against your window. You can’t imagine what Jungkook would’ve done had he been walking through this storm. It’s only getting worse.

Time ticks by fast. Soon, Jungkook is left with one last flashcard in his hands. And you are determined to get that last chocolate. He smirks to himself, probably aware that you don’t know the answer to this. But if anything, you are determined to prove him wrong.

“Tell me,” he trails, “what is the difference between compliance and suggestibility?”

You know this. He’s explained it three times. So you’re confident in your next words. “Compliance is when a witness giving a testimony willingly accepts a suggestion but is aware that the suggestion is wrong. Suggestibility is when they believe that the suggestion is right and thus take it for the truth. Both are problematic, but suggestibility is harder to expose.”

Jungkook tuts. “You got them switched around.”

“Huh?! That can’t be right!”

“Sure is, the last chocolate is mine.”

You snatch the bag away before he can grab it. “I don’t think so. Let me see that card.”

“Are you accusing me of lying?”

“For chocolate? I sure am. Let me see.”  You crawl over to his side, squishing yourself between him and the couch. “Jungkook,” you whine when he covers the card with his hand, “let me see. My grade depends on this.”

He chuckles at you. “It does not. I’m confident that you will pass regardless.”

You try to pry the card out of his hand, but it’s no use. The grip he has on the thing is too strong. He manages to hold you down without even breaking a sweat. It’s a few beats before you can realise that you’re now entirely pressed up against him. You can feel the muscles in his thighs shift, the soft skin of his arm against yours

“Let me have the chocolate and I will show you,” he whispers.

Flushed, you stop struggling. “Whatever, I know I’m right.”

Jungkook then reveals the card to you, showing you that you indeed, were right. “I’m glad you’re finally confident in your abilities. That’s the key to passing a test.”

Has he really been testing you this entire time? That’s sure one way to do the trick. Without replying, you sink into his side. Silently enjoying his warmth. It’s comfortable to sit like this, now that it’s night and the apartment continues to get colder. You don’t mind, really. Inhaling slightly, you catch a whiff of his fresh floral scent. It’s mixed with a sharp edge that suits him well.

As Jungkook grabs the stack of cards you got wrong to revise them, you don’t move. The two of you just get comfortable like that. It’s easier to see the cards the way anyhow. You can just look at them together. Plus, you’re starting to feel a little sleepy and don’t want to move. He seems equally as content, just reciting the questions and explaining why you got them wrong.

“Okay so,” you say, pointing at something on the card. “It’s not so much an issue on the witness’ side as it is on the police’s?”

Jungkook nods, looking at you. “They’re the ones leading the witness. It’s not the witness’ fault that they take on their opinion.”

You hum, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t falter, almost as if he’s searching your eyes. “Something wrong?”you ask, voice hushed, goosebumps appearing on the back of your neck. There’s a mole right below his bottom lip which is plump and looks soft. His top lip is more defined, making for a cute pout. The more you look, the more you notice all his moles. On his nostril, his cheek, his ear.

“No,” he answers eventually. Voice strained. “I think you have a pimple growing between your brows.”

“Get lost!” You shove your elbow into his side, pulling a pained groan from him. “You’re so stupid.”

For a moment he’s quiet, just rubbing his side and shifting so he can get more comfortable. One of his legs falls off the couch, the other still between yours. “You really hate me, huh?”

At any other given moment, you would’ve replied with yes. But now, it’s laden. Is he asking you that seriously? It’s one thing to tell Taehyung you can’t stand him, or to yell it in his face when he’s being a brat, but you can’t literally say it to him like this. Why, you don’t really know. The expectant look makes your stomach tighten.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

He shrugs. “No reason in particular. Just because,” he gestures at your bodies, “it doesn’t seem like you mind being around me that much. If anything I’d say that,” he stops, leaning in close to your ear. You can feel the barely-there graze of his lips. “You like being around me.”

You bite your tongue, looking up to find his eyes darker than before. Cocking his head to the side, he awaits your answer. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction. There’s no need to stroke his already big ego any more. Yes, this is more pleasant than you’d expected. Yes, he’s nice to be around. But... “You’re still a pain in the ass. Sorry.” With that, you had expected him to look away, but he doesn’t. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

“So are you,” he teases, lips stretching into a lopsided grin.

Within a heartbeat, your lips are touching. Jungkook groans. You gasp, pulling him closer. Closed eyes, your heart beats a million miles an hour, revelling in the feeling of his mouth against yours. How soft his lips are. The trailing of his fingertips up your neck so he can crane your head back.

He comes to life, parting with a brief look into your eyes and a deep breath. Then, diving in full force. Jungkook kisses you like he’s been waiting to—like he’s hungry for it. You can barely believe that it’s happening, still trying to register that he’s actually kissing you. That it feels this good.

Your entire body kicks into gear when he bites at your bottom lip. Shifting your body to face his, you wrap a hand around the back of his neck. Returning his fervor, your mouths part and tongues meet in a desperate clash. Jungkook lets out a deep, guttural sound that makes you shiver. He’s skilled, tongue swiping over yours in a way that you can barely keep up with. Deliciously hot, just edging on sloppy. There’s no room for pauses, no time for thoughts.

Gaining purchase against the armrest, you swing a leg over his to sit in his lap. Jungkook’s leaning back still, pawing at your waist now that he’s got full access. You take full advantage of the position, crashing into him and devouring him. Biting at his lips, sucking his tongue into your mouth. The feeling is nearly euphoric paired with the rough, firm touches of his hands all over your body.

He touches anything he can find. Gripping onto your thighs and ass, slipping under your tank top and sweater to graze the skin on your back. Sparks erupt everywhere.

Mid-kiss, he sits up. Twisting so he can firmly plant both his feet on the found. It’s the angle he needs to pull you right against him. Your hips make contact and you moan. He’s not quite hard but he’s certainly getting there and the thought makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you gasp, breaking away for air while he grids his hips up into yours. “Jungkook—”

“No talking,” he mouths against your jawline. “More kissing,” his voice is so  raspy that it’s barely recognisable. Almost a growl.

You push his cap off. Grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him firmly. Angling his head back the same way he had done to you. Kissing him is way better than you could’ve ever imagined. He’s rougher, stronger, harder against your body. You need more.

Slipping your hands under his shoulder, you lift it. Tracing the hard lines of his chest, feeling how he jumps under your touch. It empowers you, makes you bolder. Your fingers reach a pert nipple, brushing over it only to hear him moan in the back of his throat. God, he keeps on getting better and better. Sensitive it seems, as you roll the bud between your fingers. His hips buck up into yours. Fully hard at this point, he must start to get uncomfortable in those jeans.

Jungkook’s resolve with kissing you slows, needing air. He breaks away with a smirk, cheeks flushed and panting. Holding your gaze steady, he pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Revealing planes of unmarred skin and tattoos you had yet to discover.

You take no shame in staring, reaching out to trace the dream catcher on his shoulder. Moving along the lines of thread and feathers that reach his elbow.

“Like what you see?” he whispers, pushing you closer with a hand on your lower back just so he can kiss your neck. You shiver, legs spreading. Leaning your head back to give him enough room to mark you up. The thought alone makes you whimper. “What’s that?” he mumbles, licking a hot stripe up your throat.

Fingers digging into his shoulders, you grind down onto him. He moans in response. “Stop being so smug.”

Jungkook throws his head back, looking at you through his lashes as you gyrate your hips more firmly. His body on full display. “I don’t know, it seems like you’re into it.”

“For fucks sake, shut up and kiss me.”

He listens, capturing your mouth with his. Everything moves fast after that. Between tongues and mouths clashing, Jungkook rids you of your sweater. He kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks and enjoying the way that you quiver for him. You’re soaking through your leggings at this point. Jungkook’s doing no better.

When he pulls away, you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, collarbones and chest. To get off his lap and kneel between his legs. His eyes widen as you do so. A hand immediately comes up to push your hair aside, tipping your chin upwards. When he traces his thumb over your mouth, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around the digit and bite down, making him hiss.

Spreading his legs to accomodate you, he relaxes against the cushions. Just like little pricks on the edge of your consciousness, you feel the nerves. You question your skills when you undo his jeans and pull them down his legs. Yet, the hazy look in his eyes tells you that he’s going to like this no matter what. He all but arches into you when you palm him through his underwear. Rock hard and leaking through the fabric, you don’t want to wait any longer to finally get your mouth on him. To hear him moan for you.

So you reach past his waistband, foregoing any teasing and pull the fabric down. His cock slaps up against his stomach, making him hiss again. The sight is gorgeous. Jungkook with his head thrown back, hair a mess, chest heaving and flushed even though you’ve barely touched him. It’s satisfying to know you did that to him.

You sit down on your knees, holding him in one hand and go slow. Mouthing at him first, giving him just a taste of what’s to come. He doesn’t hold back for you, reddened lips parting with all the noises he lets out. When you take the tip into your mouth, he jolts—groans and reaches to anchor himself on your shoulder. You have one hand on his thigh, the other around the base. That way, you steady yourself when you sink down on him.

“Don’t—Fuck, keep going.” A gentle hand winds into your hair, guiding you further onto his cock. You’re not usually one to do this but, seeing him feel this good spurs you on. It makes you want to take all of him. You don’t stop when he hits the back of your throat, gag reflex kicking in. He moans at the feeling, so you try to swallow. “Shit, fuck, don’t do that. Your mouth,” he pants, “so good.”

Feeling his grip loosen, you pull up, taking a deep breath when you let him out of your mouth. Spit dribbles from your mouth to the head, tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You look up, giving him the full vision, and you don’t look away when you sink down again.

You’re so wet. Core aching but unable to find any sort of relief. You end up trying to grind your hips without any payoff. Meanwhile, you start a steady rhythm. Hollowing out your cheeks and using your tongue on the underside. It works. You have him moaning out your name in seconds. His hand tightens in your hair again, not to force you, but spurring you on to take him a little deeper each time. Right until your nose hits his stomach. You hold there, to let him feel the flex of your throat one more time. Just so he remembers it. Then you take your rhythm back up, a little faster, a little tighter. Your jaw starts to hurt, but it’s worth it. To feel his thighs start to tremble and his stomach clench. How he tightens his hold on your hair, moans pitching every time you pass your tongue right under the head.

Your lungs are burning, but you can’t help but feel addicted to him. Sucking him harder and feeling him near that edge. You dig your nails into his thigh, breathing in through your nose. Jungkook’s hip start moving just a little, enough to startle you.

“‘M close,” he moans. “Fuck, can I—in your mouth. Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair, browns furrowed deep. When he opens his eyes you shiver. His lids are heavy, pupils blown and cheeks red. Just like his lips—he sinks his teeth into his bottom one when you resume.

He takes it as a yes, unable to stop his hips from pushing up. You let him take control, holding yourself still, hands on his thighs. Jungkook’s breathing picks up, moans mixing into one drawn out sound. You meet his eyes, mouth stuffed with his cock. That’s all he needed. He twitches and cums into your mouth. The taste is bitter and harsh on your tongue. You close your eyes, focused on the feeling of his body trembling. You’re the one who did that to him.

When he lets you go and you pull off him, he gives you a fuck-out yet expectant look. A cocky arch of his eyebrow when he sees your bulged cheeks. Waiting for you to swallow.

Instead, you reach for his mug that sits on the edge of the table and spit into it. Flinching at the leftover taste.

Jungkook nudges you with his knee. “Why are you like this?”

You set his cup down and reach for your own, take a big gulp of now-cold coffee. “I’m not swallowing your jizz.” The thought of doing that alone makes you want to puke.

“Don’t call it that.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand up on wobbly legs. “I just had it in my mouth, so I can call it whatever I want.”

Jungkook mimics your eyeroll. “Fine.” He pats your thigh. “Pants off.”

“What?”

He lies down on the couch. Surely he doesn’t expect you to ride him after you just fucked up your throat for him? What an ass. “You heard me, naked now. Chop chop.” He motions for you to hurry up and you just give him a blank stare. “Ugh, come here.”  Jungkook sits up just slightly again and pulls you closer by your waistband. He gives you a brief look. “Unless you don’t wanna get naked?”

You chuckle, pushing at his hands to get him to slide your leggings off. A hand slips between your thighs to touch you. Rubbing you through the fabric, your knees nearly buckle. He’s nonchalant about it, lying back, eyes focused between your legs. Yet, he’s too accurate, easily finding his target.

“Jungkook,” you whine, grabbing onto the back of the couch.

He smirks. “Let’s take these off too.” The snap of your panties to your hip pulls you back. You shove them down, taken aback by the feeling of a hand grabbing your thigh. You’re about to question him, when he scoots further back on the couch and lifts your leg past his body. “Have a seat.”

Mind absolutely blank, you let him guide you to sit over his face. You’re dripping and he can see it—feel it probably from the way you just grazed his chest. A small moan leaving your lips when he reaches up to kiss your stomach.

“Don’t be shy,” he chuckles. “I’ve got you.”

You shift forward, holding onto the back of the couch. His hands come up to your thighs, pulling you even higher so he can slot his mouth onto your core. You can’t help but moan.

Noisy. Jungkook is so noisy. He sucks your lips into his mouth, teethes at them until you’re shaking. You struggle to hold your hips still, the need to grind into him too strong. And he does nothing to stop you. No, he urges you on. Looking up at you with those big eyes and nodding against you. Jungkook opens his mouth, tongue darting out to tease at your clit just briefly. Then, the reigns are all yours.

He holds you by the hips so you can hesitantly start moving. You shiver. It feels so good; the wet warmth of his mouth against your core. He follows you, hands pawing at your thighs, hips, and ass. With eyes closed, Jungkook eats you out like he’s been dying to do it. There’s no teasing, no playing—he’s straight to the point. You move over his tongue as he sucks on your cunt, nibbling and flicking whenever he gets the chance. Anything else is irrelevant. The sight of his head blissed out between your thighs is all you can focus on.

The pleasure spikes, shooting up your spine and filling you with warmth. It’s embarrassing how fast he gets you on the edge. How good he is. The way he occasionally stops you to take that bundle of nerves between his lips and suck on it until you’re screaming—it’s mind blowing. Your entire body is on fire, sweat drips down your back. His name falls from your lips in cries that echo throughout the room. Louder than the storm raging against the window.

“Jungkook, I’m—” you pant, unable to finish your sentence with the moans that he pulls from you. Incapable of thinking from the second he swirls his tongue around your entrance and presses inside. You halt all your movements. Nails dug deeply into the couch, you reach for his hair with your other hand. He moans when you grip it tightly, his own fingers tightening around your hips. “Don’t stop.”

He alternates between fucking his tongue into you and sucking on your clit. The intensity is almost too much. The irregularity keeps you on your toes and has you nearly teetering over the edge. You just need to—Jungkook reaches behind you and plunges two fingers into your sopping core. The sensation of being filled along with his tongue flicking over you has your eyes rolling back. Everything goes white.

You double over on the couch, unable to keep yourself up and smothering him in the process. Trembling in his hold, he helps you slowly ride out your high. Short, gentle movements against his mouth. The rocking of your hips is as involuntary as the way your body keeps shaking when he lets you go. Breath high in your throat, you chuckle.

“Good god.” You fall down when he slips out from underneath you.

As you twist towards him, Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, crawling over you. All your limbs still feel like jelly, your mind swimming. “Yeah, that good?”

You hum, eyes closing. Wanting to lie down, you turn on your back, hearing a sharp thud.

“Shit,” Jungkook gasps. He’s grasping his chin with a laugh.

A few seconds pass before you feel the soreness in your knee. “Ugh, I’m so sorry,” you whine, reaching up to touch him. But he has other plans. Jungkook surges down smiling, pressing your mouths together for the first time in what feels like hours. The stickiness on his face doesn’t go unnoticed. The reminder that he just ate you out, that he’s the one who made you cum that hard. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He kisses you deeply, smiling against your mouth. You finally get rid of your tank top, now fully naked. He mouths over your chest, twisting your nipples, spreading your legs so that he can fit between them. Pressing himself against you, hard and waiting. “Can you go again?” he asks, pulling away and searching your eyes.

You still feel floaty, but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your thigh has you quivering. “Yeah.”  You’re aching to feel him inside, so you tilt your hips up towards him. Spreading your legs wider and inviting him.

“Wait,” you blurt, eyes flying open and pressing a hand against his chest. He stops with his hand around his dick, just about ready to slide home. “Condom.”

Jungkook curses, looking around the room. He locates his jeans that lie in a pile with his shirt and boxers. The fact that he’s actually got a condom in there is uncanny.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”  You joke.

He shrugs. “I wore these jeans while going out last night.”

“You’re disgusting!” You slap his arm lightly, but he just chuckles in return. He knows just as well as you do that you’re waiting for him to fuck you. The clenching of your core attests to that.

No time is wasted, Jungkook puts the condom on and lines himself up. “You good?”  

You nod. “Just go slow.”

The slight oversensitivity just makes it feel even better. He stretches you out so perfectly. You feel every inch, every stutter of his hips as he goes deeper. Way deeper than you’d expected. Until his hips meet yours and he curses, burying his face into your neck.

“You feel good,” he mumbles, kissing your skin.

“You too.” Trailing your fingers up his back, you wait for your body to adjust to him. To feel yourself relax and pull for more. That tell-tale need for movement, friction. Jungkook holds steady, hips barely moving. “Go,” you say when your stomach clenches. “Move. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook growls, grasping onto the couch. Pulling out and slamming back in full force. You slide up the cushions, so fast you grasp onto him for support. Fingernails digging into his back, legs wrapping around his waist, you keen at the pleasure. Each thrust is better than the last. Harder, more precise.

Your back arches off the couch, mouth agape. Pleasure is constant, like your body is vibrating with it. Jungkook mouths at your neck, sucking, biting—teeth playfully tugging at your ear just to whisper something dirty that you can barely comprehend. Your mind can’t make sense of anything but his dick pumping inside of you. His hips slapping against yours and his mouth against your skin.

Until he kisses you. His mouth messily connecting with yours, movements slowing. With a hand on your ass, he hikes you up the couch, angling your body so that he can press your legs to your chest. Just like that, he picks up. Starting off slow, still kissing you, tongue laving over yours almost sweetly. You shiver, the slow drag of his cock as delicious as the harsh assault. He changes angles, just a hair, but it’s enough for him to graze that part inside of you that makes you see stars.

Throwing your head back, you moan. Fingers sliding through the sweat on his back, up to tangle into his hair, gripping tight. He groans. Head falling onto your shoulder, hips stuttering against yours.

“You like that?” you whisper into his ear, tongue darting out to flick at a pierced lobe.

He nods, teeth sinking into your shoulder as you pull hard. Hips picking up, chasing the pleasure.

Hearing him moan like that. So unabashed and loud, only adds to your pleasure. Toes curling, you close your eyes and let your head fall back. Hips meeting him thrust for thrust, helping him reach even deeper inside of you. To hit that spot every single time. Jungkook has perfected that balance between smooth and hard. Never slamming rough enough to jolt you, yet firm enough to make you capable of sounds you were unaware of. Rhythmic, never stopping or slowing. So constant you can’t do anything but fall into motion with him.

Bodies syncing up. Hands finding places to touch.  Nipples, lips, thighs, waists, hair. He is holding you spread open for him, your thighs starting to ache. But it’s worth it, because soon, you feel the pleasure spike.

Your stomach tightens, tingling at the base of your spine. “Jungkook,” you moan.

He answers by looking up, lips bitten red and parted.

“Can you,” you can’t finish the sentence, moaning and closing your eyes. Tapping his hand on your thigh is enough though. He releases you, instead pulling your legs around his waist. Closer like this, his chest slides over yours. It gives you just enough space to reach between your bodies and touch yourself.

He looks down at the sensation, cursing at the sight of your fingers playing with your clit while his cock slides in and out of you. The angle doesn’t let you do the same, but you can hear the slick slide clearly. You can feel it dripping down your ass.

The added pleasure is enough to put you on the edge, fast. “I’m gonna—Jungkook!” you yelp when he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck.” One hand between your bodies, the other holding his hair.

In seconds, your high hits you. Hard. Your entire body locks up, so much that Jungkook lets out a strangled moan. Fluttering around him he joins you in your peak. Thrusts stilling, pressed deep inside of you. He spills into the condom as you rut your hips, still coming down.

Spent bodies collapse onto the couch, Jungkook refusing to pull out immediately. He’s basking in the feeling of your aftershock, walls still clenching ever so slightly. You can’t blame him. It feels good. Having him inside of you as he lies down, pulling your hips against his, kissing you. His mouth is tender, laving over yours without much hurry. A hand combing through your hair, softly humming, smiling.

He finally pulls out, leaving you feeling empty and slightly sore. Grunting, he ties the condom and makes a show of throwing it into the same mug you used earlier. It makes him grin.

“I’m throwing that mug out.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, I really do. It’s been tainted beyond remedy. I’m not drinking from that, ever again.”

Jungkook presses his nose against your temple, still grinning like a fool. “You’re so weird.”

You snort. “Says the guy who just three-point shot a condom into a mug full of cum.”

No reply follows, only comfortable silence. Jungkook and you just lie like that for a while. Bodies coming down, breaths evening out, enjoying each other. Slightly sticky with sweat, you let him grab the blanket and throw it over you. Your heart swells.

Could it be possible that you’re not the only one who feels something more? Deep down, you’ve always known he’s not just an asshole. You’ve just never seen that side of him before today. All this time you’ve tried to ignore it. To not let yourself fall for that trap. A guy like him isn’t supposed to be good. Yet, maybe you were wrong about him. And maybe, he feels the same way about you.

Taehyung isn’t gonna let you hear the end of this, but you can’t help but wonder if there is an opportunity for more between you and Jungkook?

“You know,” he says after a while, “We should definitely do this again.”

Your heart shatters. That’s it. Reality crashing down on you. Of course Jungkook doesn’t feel anything for you. He’s just out for sex and you should’ve known.

You scramble up from the couch. Jungkook sputters out something you can’t quite catch, trying to grab a hold of you. “Don’t touch me,” you spit. “I can’t believe you.” Grabbing your panties and pulling them on alongside your sweater, you put distance between the two of you. “Is that what I am to you? Just another cunt to fuck?”

Jungkook’s hastily putting on his boxers, standing up, eyes wide. He opens his mouth, but you don’t care to listen.

“That’s why you were really here, right? To get into my pants. That’s why you had the condom on you.” It’s all falling together now. How could you have been so stupid? “All the fucking whining about Yoongi, but you’re no better than him.”

“Stop,” he rushes, shaking his head. “Listen to me—“

“Don’t!” you call when he reaches for you, grabbing you by the wrists and forcing you to look at him. You try to wriggle away, but he’s holding you steady.

“Listen,” he tries again. “I—“

You shove at his chest. “Let me go, Jungkook. Fucking let me go.”

He obeys, arms falling limply beside his body. Expression going soft when he sees you’re crying. “Please hear me out.”

“No, Jungkook. You don’t get it. I have feelings for you. Real, non-sexual feelings. I don’t just want to be another girl on your checklist.” There it is. Out with the truth. Your breaths come out short and ragged. Harshly wiping your tears, you grab your leggings off the floor. Jungkook just stares at you. “I was stupid to fall for this act.” It’s true. He doesn’t date. Sex. That’s it. You should’ve known, you should’ve protected yourself. Should’ve never let him weasel his way into your heart.

Jungkook deflates, head falling, hair shielding his eyes. “I’m sorry that you think of me this way.”

What a pretentious prick. “Forget it Jungkook, I’m not buying it.” You look outside, rain still pouring down the window. “You know where everything is. I want you out before sunrise.” You turn your back on him and storm into your bedroom, slamming the door closed.

The contents of your cabinet click, something falling to the floor. Your tears only get worse. Feeling the cold of your room wrap around your worn out body. To feel the remnants of him still cling to your skin. The marks, the soreness, and the scent. God, you’re so dumb. You want to call Taehyung, to hear his voice and have him comfort you. But it’s two in the morning and his sleep schedule is shaky enough as it is.

So you just opt for a shower, stripping and getting under the hot spray to wash away whatever you can. You douse yourself in your favourite clementine scented body wash. But it does nothing to clean the fresh tears. Nothing can. The realisation that your feelings for Jungkook had gone way past crush hurts. You let your guard down and he drove a knife into your back.

Sleep, you think. You need sleep. You need to rid yourself of these thoughts and feelings. Wake up tomorrow and just pretend like this never happened. Even if you know it’ll be evident. You can pretend.

You dry off and brush your teeth. Three times to be precise. Ending up in bed wrapped in your favourite teddy sweater, warm and cosy. Your chest still aches with tears that no longer fall. Heart heavy. Like you miss him close to you.

There’s not much you can do but close your eyes and will your mind to shut off. You don’t want to think about him anymore.

The creaking of your door opening startles you right as you’re drifting off. He better be joking. You refuse to move, holding tightly onto the blanket, hoping that he’s just checking in on you and will leave. You hear the door click closed, and then the bed dips.

You hold your breath. Jungkook doesn’t speak. He lifts the covers so he can scoot under them and pull you against his chest. It’s not a tight hold, but it’s there. A strong arm draped over your waist, legs grazing yours as you pretend to be asleep. The feather-light gaze of his lips against your neck makes fresh tears appear in your eyes.

“Jungkook,” you croak.

He shushes you. “I know you’re upset with me. I just don’t want you to be alone when you’re feeling like this. We can talk in the morning—if you want. For now, just get some rest.”

It’s true. You shouldn’t be alone, crying yourself to sleep. Even if he’s the one that caused it. You just don’t want to let yourself trust the gesture. He’s probably trying to make you feel less angry. Even if it doesn’t work, it’s appreciated, ill intent or not. Having someone here is calming, letting you fall into an unruly slumber.

The next morning, you wake up in his embrace. Closer, back pressed to his chest. His nose nuzzles into your hair. It’s so nice. Warm. Soothing. He’s a good cuddler.

Then, your entire body stiffens. The previous night coming back to you in flashes. Your bodies entwined on the couch, moans bouncing off the wall. You swallow tightly, lifting his arm.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers. He must’ve already been awake, reaching for your hand and giving it a small squeeze. “Should I go?”

Yes. “No,” you mumble. You need answers. To make the story whole before you force him out of your life for good.

“Do you want to—”

“Why do you always act like such a dick around me?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Because you won’t give me the time of day otherwise.”

You still, practically holding your breath so that you can hear every word.

“Every time I’m nice to you, you pretend like I don’t exist. When I push your buttons,” he sighs, “that’s when I get your attention.”

Attention? He wants your attention? Your mind’s running circles, afraid to turn around and see the look in his eyes and get swayed. Feel remorse for the pain you hear lined in his voice. That you can feel in the trembling of his hand encasing yours.

“Can you at least say something?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He sits up, the mattress shifting and your eyes closing tightly.  “Sit up, please.”  Grabbing your arm, Jungkook gets you to reluctantly sit up and face him. Though you won’t look at him, eyes on your knees that nearly touch his. You notice that he’s still in his boxers, but he’s at least wearing a shirt. He doesn’t force you to look at him when he starts speaking again. “I want to be honest with you.” He toys with the edge of your sheets. “But if you’re not going to listen to the whole story it’s not worth telling you.”

Your heart hammers. Tears threaten to fall. Taking a deep breath gives away your nerves. You want to tell him he can’t ask that of you. That he doesn’t deserve that. But if there’s even a slight chance of a misunderstanding—something your heart hopes for—you have to hear him out. Even if it’ll hurt. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. He’s nervous too. Breath shaky like his body, nearly curled in on himself. You never thought you’d see him this vulnerable. “Honestly, when I first met you, I was intrigued by you because I couldn’t have you. You just held up your nose every time I as much as looked your way. It made me want to know more about you. And the moment I did, it was over for me. I realised that you’re not just opinionated, crass, and entitled. You’re smart, a hard worker, and you’re such a good friend.”

You finally dare to look up. To see the desperate look in his eyes as he pauses. Shocked.

“I admire you,” he whispers.

“What?” you blurt. “You’re the one with the straight A’s, not me.”

He shakes his head in defeat, biting his lip and looking away. “The only reason I’m getting straight A’s is because I’ve taken these classes before. I’m not like you, I don’t work hard. I should be studying like you.”

You frown. “What do you mean, you’ve done them before? Do you already have a law degree?”

Jungkook avoids your eyes. “When I got out of high school at the age of seventeen, I got into a big university with a scholarship. The full ride. But I was stupid,” he croaks. “I wanted to fully enjoy the college ride. So I studied just enough to get by and dedicated the rest of my time to partying.” He says it like he’s disgusted with himself. Muscles in his neck tightening as he swallows impending tears. “I got arrested for underage drinking and lost the entire scholarship. Everything I had worked so hard for, down the drain.”

The words leave him pained, the regret for his past decisions clear in his eyes. Yet, he’s still here, studying this degree you know most students can’t afford. You have a scholarship too.

“So yeah,” he breathes. “I wish I had a little more discipline like you. I admire that you’re able to put school first. As much as I pretend to hate you just to get your attention, I like being around you. You’re a positive influence on people, including me.”

“So it’s my fault? For judging you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No, not at all. As I said, I was being an ass on purpose because I was curious about you. But when I got to know you,” he cocks his head to the side, “feelings happened. I just couldn't find a way to show you the better sides of myself. Which is partially why I showed up yesterday.”

“Huh,” you frown. So he did have ulterior motives? “How does that change anything? You still showed up here to sleep with me.” He’s talking in circles. You feel remorse for him, but you tell yourself to stay strong. His past doesn’t excuse his actions.

“I really wasn’t planning on sleeping with you. I wouldn’t do that to you. There just was no other way to get you to spend time alone with me. I wanted to show you a better side of me, hoping that you’d realise I’m not all bad and maybe would give me a chance.” A chance to what? “I like you,” he adds when you don’t respond, “a lot.”

What? He can’t be serious. After everything that happened.

“But I also care about you. I like being around you—bickering included. I genuinely wanted to help. I know how hard it is to start again, I didn’t want to see you go through that.”

You go silent. Trying to think over his words and not see the bad. To believe that he means it. He did help you after all. He studied with you for hours, never insinuating anything sexual. He was nice, comforting and believed in you. You never asked for any of that. And after all, you kissed him too. You could’ve stopped it. If he had just wanted sex, he wouldn’t be here.

But he is. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you say, grabbing his hand.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. For making you feel used. I should’ve just been honest with you.” Jungkook laces your fingers together. “I know it was a dick move on my side to sleep with you. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“I played as much of a part in it as you did. So let’s just—how about we call it even. Bury the hatchet?” You cock your head to the side, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. It won’t be easy, you’ll need to do a lot of thinking, but your heart wants to forgive him. To see more of his gentler side.

He nods, lifting up your hand and pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Sounds good to me.”

The two of you get up after that, even if it’s a little awkward. It’s weird to not be bickering with him. You’re surprised that he actually cleaned the living room last night. There’s not a trace of him left aside from his clothes that are carefully folded on the table. Even that mug is gone.

“What do you want to eat?” you ask, reaching to the top shelve for another mug.

Jungkook comes closer. “Just coffee is okay for now.”

You turn, almost bumping into his chest, blushing heavily. Now that he knows you have feelings for him, he’s enjoying himself just a little too much. Smiling at you while you’re making coffee and some cereal for yourself. You eat in silence, browsing through your phone.

It’s when you get up to clean, that Jungkook speaks again.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing you back by the waist.

“Hi?” You turn around in his grip.

“You know,” he starts, hand coming up to brush your hair behind your ear. “As much as I regret what I said yesterday, I did mean it.”

“What?” You chuckle lightly. “You want to do that again?”

He nods, and you catch a faint redness dusting his cheeks. “I do, a lot of times, if you want.”

You laugh, twisting away from him to put the dishes in the sink. “If that is your way of you asking me to be your girlfriend, Jungkook, then I must say you’re not quite hitting the right angle. Seeing what happened yesterday.” He can’t seriously be thinking you just want him for sex after all that. You start cleaning, even if it’s just to avoid having to look at him and admit that you’re shy. Thinking about what happened last night—the good parts.

Sighing, he turns off the tap that you had just turned on.

“Hey!” You turn it back on, only to have him shut it off again. “What do you want?”

“I’m not saying that I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, searching your eyes like he’d done the night before. Like he’s waiting for permission.

You couldn’t resist him even if you tried. So you kiss him, just briefly. “Then what are you ready for, big boy?”

He laughs. “For starters, I would love to take you out for dinner after the exam that’s in,” he looks up at the clock, “six hours.”

You groan, throwing your head back. “Don’t remind me.” It’s probably a wiser decision to take some time to think. See how you feel about this, but dinner won’t hurt. “I will still need some time to think about,” you gesture between you two, “whatever this is.”

“Oh,” his face falls. “Yeah, I get that. I just thought that—since you said you have feelings for me too.” Jungkook pouts. He fucking juts out his bottom lip and you haven’t seen anything more endearing in your entire life. Your heart does a weird little flip, and you know that you’re a goner. Even more so than you had been before last night.

Now you know that he is good. That he is worthy of a chance. So why not give it? Why would you sit around and let your mind think all sorts of negative things about him if you can give him the chance to prove to you that he’s a great guy. As he said, it’s just a date. Not a label. Yet.

When he turns away, you pull him back by his hand, slamming your lips to his. He grunts, both hands coming up to thread through your hair. The kiss isn’t deep. It isn’t anything like the way you kissed last night. It sweeps you off your feet, so tender and warm. When he pulls away, you’re out of breath and you can see the adoration in his eyes. You hope he can see it in yours.

Then, he pinches your butt.

You push at his chest. “Thanks for reminding me that you’re still an annoying brat.”

He chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips. “But you like me that way.”

“Sadly,” you grumble, winding your arms around his neck. “I do.”

Thanks to: @/fallinforkoo @knjkitten​ @yoongs-jeontae​ @wintaejk​ @guksweet​ @rynofpentacles​ @mikroparadise​ @jeonggukkiepabo​ @softlyjiminie​ Requested by: @/fallinforkoo + @hornyjailbonk​ + 3x Anonymous Taglist: @jiminskth​ @teresaisla​​ @yeontanie21​​ @tessanator97​​ @ladyartemesia​ @dayjeons​​ @djasheyash99​​ @the-rise-of-bangtan-boyz​​ @bbangtanlove95​ @zeharilisharaban​ @jungkooksgoodgirl​​ @topanga27​​ @pjmochii​​ @iwanttohitmyself​​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​ @bel-abysse​​ @jiminsreads​​ @jungkookspromise​​

© GguksGalaxy 2020 This is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to give an accurate representation of the idols included. Please do not steal, copy, redistribute or take uncredited inspiration from my work. 

#ficswithluv #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanscenery #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #bts smut #mywriting #jk bday drabbles #stranded #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jugnkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook story #bts story #jungkook series #bts series #jungkook oneshot #bts oneshot #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #enemies to lovers #Jungkook au

[thatlongspringnight]

A Crown in Springtime (Jungkook x Fem!Reader)

summary: When Jungkook caught the eye of the queen that night, he didn’t realize just how much it would change his life for the better.

pairing: Jungkook x female Reader

genre: arranged marriage au, lust at first sight, romance

word count: 6.2k

❂ amorentia in spring

⁂ hosted by: professor amora through @bangtansorciere​

⤐  au type: daffodil

⤐  themes: spring, honeymoon

⤐  kinks: Edging ⤞ Praise ⤞ Cunninglus ⤞ Fingering ⤞ Handjob ⤞ Thigh Riding ⤞ Hair Pulling ⤞ Creampie ⤞ 

Jungkook is nervous, it bleeds into him like the cold of midwinter, a stark difference from the blossoms of early spring that surround him. Even now, in the sunshine of early morning, he shivers, nerves leaving him tense as he feigns calm, leaning back on the veranda as though nothing has changed, nothing is different, letting the sun soak into his bones. 

But everything has changed. He’s more tense now then he was a day ago, when he was kneeling at the ancient altar, handfasting himself to a woman he barely knew for life, for the hereafter too….And not just any woman. His liege, his queen...now his wife. His father had talked of nothing else for the last two months...since...since the betrothal. All he could speak on was the arrangement, brooking no talk or protest from him, nothing but smiling and acceptance. 

A savior - his father had called her, the queen their savior, rescuing them from poverty. 

“She chose you.” It had been repeated so many times, the idea that he should be grateful, grateful for this arranged marriage. He should be full of joy even, plucked from obscurity to marry her. But...but he doesn’t know her, he can’t wrap his mind around why she would pick him She could have anyone after all...so why him? 

Before the wedding...he could count the number of times he had seen her on one hand. A - A little older than him, a couple of years, maybe - he hadn’t known a world where she had not been queen. She had grown up with a crown on her head, a sword in her palm, and the shadow of a dynasty weighing on her shoulders. A child queen raised on tales of her ancestors, long dead, war and conquest. He...He had heard that she had been in want of a husband.

His father had even suggested his older brother, his heir - but never once had his name been mentioned. Not until....not until that night - two months ago, when - when she had smiled at him, eyes alight in mirth and something he didn’t have a name for yet, asking him to dance after a dinner.

They had gone to court for the winter celebration, and he had felt her eyes on him during the meal, offering her a soft smile, as - as was proper.

She’d asked him to dance, first - his thoughts repeated, an honor, one that had given him the warmth of her palm in his, her eyes trailing up his face.

“Your hair.” She had murmured, a hand going to play with the strands. “Blue like the ocean.” His own personal magic, how the fae had manifested in him. He wondered how it manifested in her…

Either way…was that why? Was that why she had picked him? Not even two days after, she had offered his father...and the deed had been done..all leading up to yesterday, kneeling at the altar, him bedecked in clothes woven of silver thread, blue sapphires dripping from them, from the crown she laid on his head. Joining him at the altar, covered in gold. He felt like the moon, lit only by her golden glow. 

Somehow, somehow he had made it through, repeating ancient vows that dipped magick into his blood, feeling their bond form as sure and strong as the rope that bound their hands. Somehow that day had faded to night, banquets and being whisked away - a honeymoon in the mountains - early spring blossoms filling the air with perfume. 

A honeymoon, but still - no bride. The thought alone is enough to stir something, a gentle sigh making him jolt. Her, he knows its her, he can feel it, looking up to meet her amused gaze. The - the queen, his queen, he dips his head, scrambling to sit properly, to bow…

At least until her fingertips press his forehead, stilling him instantly.

“No Need.” her voice still shocks him, calm and easy - sweet too - like the last drops of sap from a tapped tree at the end of winter. “Especially not here.” 

“....Not here?” 

“You haven’t noticed?” She smiles now, and it makes him feel warm. “We’re all alone. No one dares to interrupt their queen on her honeymoon.” He’s watching her, stepping to sit beside him, legs dangling like his were just moments before. 

“And...and if we weren’t alone?” He curses how slowly the words seem to come to him, trailing and trembling in her presence, but he can’t help it. His position feels uncertain, her husband, but what does that make him. He’s no king. 

“Then you’d only need to nod your head.” She hums, a hand lifting up, moving to block the light, to let the sun’s rays break between her fingertips. “You’re a prince now, anyway, my darling, people will be bowing to you.” She says it so easily, like it doesn’t alter his entire life. “But….between us.” She continues. “I’d like it to be different.” This is the most she’s ever spoken to him, and he finds himself entranced at her lips, the way she forms words. 

“Different?” He mumbles, barely aware he’s asked.

“Different, friends at least.” She tilts her head to look at him. “Maybe even more.”

“F-Friends?” he questions, eyes widening. “With me?” “Is that so odd?” She snorts. “To want to be friends with my husband?” “....No.” He answers after a moment. “Well  - just a little.” 

“At the end of the day, I’m just a normal girl, you know.” Words he doesn’t believe, not even for a moment. 

The day passes, the coolness of the morning fading to a gentle heat, and he learns - Jungkook learns about his wife. 

More than he’s bargained for.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that.” She pushes her own plate of food at him. “Here, eat up.” They are lounging again, on the veranda, which seems to be her favorite place, his too, where the breeze is gentle, and the flowers bloom so heavily nearby it smells like a garden. “It will get cold and you won’t want it.” Its a simple pronouncement, one that makes him pout. 

“How do you know?” He answers her, watching how her lips twitch into a smile. “Maybe i want it cold.” “As your Queen, I demand you eat.” That pronouncement is met with him grumbling, before he sits up, a look in his eyes that makes her raise an eyebrow. 

“Feed me then.” Jungkook demands, a petulant lilt to his voice, even as he tries to hide his smile.

“What?”

“Feed me.”He gives her a grin, one that makes her heart beat quicken, not that he knows, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Come on - “ He throws her words from before back in her face. “Feed me or else everything’s going to get cold.”

“What a baby.” The woman complains, not at all fooled by the sweet look on his face. “You’re not playing fair, Jungkook.” His name, whenever she says it, makes his stomach flutter with butterflies. Still, he doesn’t even pout at being called a baby, too triumphant at her shifting to face him, reaching to pick up a slice of meat, offering it to him. “Your highness.” She mocks, and he could only snicker, enjoying the taste on his tongue.

It is delicious.

“So good – its delicious.” The smile he shot her was enough to make the woman feel a brush of something she chose not to name. Damn this boy, damn him for making doing something so simple as eating so attractive.

 It made her want to tease him, and that made her smile, something he notices. “You – you gave in really easily.” Jungkook spoke after a moment of comfortable silence. She had, this woman who had led his people in war, had fed him just now, without much protest at all. “Maybe you can feed me every day.” Did he enjoy it? Yes, of course he did, but unfortunately for him, the words seemed to click something into place for her.

 “Oh, you want me to feed you every day?” The woman purred, managed to snag a bite of her own food before setting down her plate. The air shifts, a shiver coursing through him, the trees seeming to shiver too. “Tell me something, Jungkookie.”

“W-What?” He speaks, a bit of alarm on his face as she leaned over him, her body suddenly very close. “T-Tell you what?”

 “Ahh..” She settles herself close to him. So close, their shoulders touch, and when she leans over, their noses nearly brush. “Tell me, are you sure you want this every day?” This time, when she offers him food, he is slower to take it, his cheeks warm. It feels heady, being close to her like this, and he wonders if this intimacy will ever feel anything other than clandestine. “Jungkook, I asked you a question.”

 “Ngh.” The boy looked up, his nose brushing hers. “I – I wouldn’t mind.” He breathes. Her chest was too close to his face, and the skin she exposed…it was right there. His lips could brush her collarbones if he looks straight ahead. Suddenly a warm day felt blazing hot. “I – I’m thirsty – “ He managed to speak, unsure of how he even got his voice to work.

 “Thirsty?” A teacup was balanced in her hand in an instant, her hold graceful…almost delicate. “Tea, your highness?”

“Don’t call me that.” He protests. “I – you’re the Queen - I’m just - “ “You’re my husband.” She answers, offering him a sip. “Your highness is an appropriate title.” 

“But to you, I should just be Jungkook.” He answers her, and she can only smile. 

“Can I taste too?” its a shift in conversation, but Jungkook nods, assuming she’d just…take a drink from his cup – which is why his brain short circuits the moment the cup was pulled away, replaced by her lips.

 Cherry blossom tea is at first just a hint of salt – one that fades to a mellow sweetness, floral notes and plum. Jungkook thinks to himself. Those grounded musings lost at her lips. She is kissing him, and he is overwhelmed, the taste of her and the cherry blossom tea an all too dangerous combination for him, leaving him lightheaded. She is kissing him -  and he could have whined, the angle of their bodies meaning he couldn’t move his hands from the ground, or they’d both tumble over.

 And he didn’t want to lose the fierceness of her kiss -  her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands hard enough for him to whimper, the sound lost as her tongue explored his mouth, stealing the taste of tea from his lips.

 He is on fire, he is in bloom under her touch.

 And then she pulls away, panting against his lips, her own cheeks flushed.

 “I like it – the tea. Its good on its own…but its better tasting it on your lips, pretty boy.” Jungkook could faint.

 “I – y-you can’t just….you can’t just say things like that!”

“Do you need a moment?” She is stretching out like a cat in the sun. “We should make flower crowns next, my prince.” 

Jungkook truly looks like a fish out of water in that moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock, and She could’ve laughed at the blush high on his cheeks. She had got him right where she wanted him, he realizes. The lilt to her voice was teasing as she gives him a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong, Jungkook?” 

 “I-“ He gulps, unable to speak, the taste of salt and honey still strong on his tongue from their kiss. It is too much- she is too much. “A-Actually, my throat is still dry.” He clears his throat once, then twice as if he was trying to prove it to her. “I might n-need another drink...”

 “Well, that is a problem, isn’t it.” She tilts her head to the side in mock sympathy and he nods, almost a little too eagerly, giving it away.

 “It is, yes. Maybe- maybe you could help me drink again?”

 “Hmm, I could...but you also have two perfectly good hands to use so.” She shrugged. “That sounds more like a problem than a me problem.”

 “But maybe I’d rather use my hands for...other things.” He is trying to tempt her- and failing miserably as she barely spared him a second glance, too busy focusing on gathering the materials for the flower crowns, something that he wasn’t as interested in now as he had been before.

 “Well that’s good, seeing as you’ll need them to make your crown. What flowers did you want?”

Making flower crowns was relaxing – that is the thought after a few minutes, as he hummed softly, twisting the flowers around the ribbon, grinning as they connected. It was unconscious, he sways softly, humming under his breath. He used to make so many of them, for the whole court…and his father would always pick his over his brother’s…

 “Ugh – “ The frustrated sound from beside him, pulls him from his memories, and he pauses, listening softly to the woman’s grumbles. Glancing down, he finds a bit of a mess, and it made him grin – he didn’t want to say anything though – not wanting to break her focus – that is until she hissed through her teeth, the flowers literally bursting from their ribbon, scattering around her.

 “Gah – “She grimaces, and he laughs outright, her head whipping around at the sound, finding him already wearing his…

 And it was beautiful…of course.

 “Having some trouble– “

“Its not easy.” She huffs. “You must be cheating somehow.”

“I did not!” Jungkook protests. “I just have more experience is all  - “

“I can’t do it.” She straight up whines, and Jungkook grins, giggling in earnest, scooting closer to her. How was she so cute, struggling like this, gathering up her flowers. In this moment she is just a girl, and he is just a boy - He can’t help but be brave.

 “Here...”He croons,  reaching for her, pulling her closer so he can watch. “Let me teach you.” Only after does he realize how informal he’s being, shooting her a worried glance, only to be met by a little pout. 

 “I-I don’t need any help!” She curses under her breath, her stammer hardly hidden as she gives him a little glare. “I can do it!”

“Here.” His chin rested on her shoulder, hands gently taking hers in his. “You made your stems too short so they were harder to wrap.” Those flowers get set aside as he picks others from the pile. “These longer ones will work better.

 She was silent as she watched him manipulate her hands with his own, twisting the flowers so it entwined with the ribbon, the dyed material looking so good against his skin. 

 “...try?” The sudden baritone of his voice makes her jump.

 “What?”

 “I said, why don’t you try.” He has the gall to sound amused and she finds herself scowling at his grin. Even if she couldn’t see it- she felt it. “Let’s try to pay more attention when I’m teaching you, alright?”

 “Give me that.” She grabs the flower crown from him, ignoring the sound of his laugh, his body shaking next to her. Jungkook watches her, how she furrows her brows, grabbed another flower- daisies this time, and carefully winds it around the ribbon like he had showed her, focusing hard on her task.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself, wistful almost. Beautiful, and he’s hers. 

Beautiful, and wants him just as bad as he wants her - something he finds out the next morning, the veranda a place of more than just relaxing in the sunshine. 

“You should call me Noona.” Her voice is a purr against his ear, the kind that makes Jungkook shiver, tensing against her light touch. And it is like, fingers trailing his skin, delicate in the way they touch him, make him yearn for more...its...unexpected, how she makes him feel desirable and full of desire for her all at once. 

“N-Noona - “ He stammers, breath hitching at her fingertips parting the robe he’s wearing, dancing across his chest. “Ngh - you - “ “You’re so pretty.” She murmurs. “I wanna make you feel good.” He’s tensing at that, but the pit in his stomach is full of butterflies and aching, nothing like fear clinging to him now. “I don’t want you to regret...this...with me.” “This…?” he asks, confusion bleeding into his tone. “This...now?” “Now - and...our marriage.” She confesses, face dipping lower, lips ghosting across the juncture of his throat. “I want to make it worth it for you.” “Why is it worth it for you?” He wonders aloud. “I’m no one at all - “ “You’re magic itself.” She counters, and this time its a kiss against his neck, not just lips, this time her hand finds purchase on his chest, fingernails a dull scrap against his skin. It feels good, and he whines softly, adjusting to the feeling. “Beautiful, sweet - Strong.” She says, and she can feel his cheeks heat. “What, is it embarrassing to hear?” She sounds almost amused, blowing lightly at the strands of his hair, soft blue in the clear, cloudless sunshine.

“T-That - “ He nearly chokes on his own spit. “That - that’s taking it a little too far.” Its almost scolding. “How can you know that?’

“I want to know everything there is to know about you.” She answers. “And to show you all of me, too, if you...if you’ll let me.” 

“I want to...to see you.” He answers, honestly, after a moment. “You’re my wife after all, my bride.” There is a smile, hers, against his skin. 

“Such a good boy.” She praises, and he cannot help the pleased feeling under his skin, the way he nods, preening a little under her words. “Such a pretty, darling man.” Her hand, trailing lower, bringing new, ticklish feelings to his skin.

This type of affection wasn’t altogether new to him, romps with boys and girls in the stables up...up until recently, but this is different too, there is a feeling there he’s not used to, a longing coming from the woman that registers in his heart. 

He can feel her loneliness, the ache in her soul - and he wants to fill it as best he can. Maybe that’s what she had seen in him that night, that same feeling - deep in his heart - that deep alone that kept him up at night. 

So he kisses her, adjusting so he’s nearly in her lap, back to her chest, turning to catch her gaze. His lips meet hers and he sees her eyes widen, before his own shut, one of her hands coming to cup his cheek, thumb stroking idly against his skin. It’s sweet - soft, at least for a moment. But they’re both ravenous, he realizes, when it’s his hands that find purchase on the dainty silk robe that hid her form. Ravenous as she bites at his bottom lip, earning a whine, a whimper - when he looks up again, there is something molten in her gaze, and in his stomach. 

He wants her, and - 

“Ngh -“ he muffles the sound of surprise in his throat as she shifts them, so now it’s her, legs parted on either side of his thigh, sitting with her hands pressed against his chest. “I - I -“ 

“You?” She asks, like she hasn’t put them in a compromising position, little smirk at her lips. “Cat got your tongue, Jungkook?” Her thumb parts his lips, delight on her face as he opens his mouth, lets her press it to his tongue. “I’d be glad to have your tongue on my kitten.” The slang is enough to make him sweat, heat prickling against his skin. 

He’s wearing too many clothes - even if all he’s in is a night robe, the mid morning sun has left him languid and warm, her touch has set fire to his skin - and her - so close to him, nose brushing at the skin of his cheek, coaxing him closer, mouth meeting his with more fervor, hands tangling in his hair. 

She’s pulling at the strands, drawing a whine from his lips as her hips rock forward, as his hands find purchase on her hips - registering what she’s doing before his mind catches up. 

“N-noona -“ it’s a moan as they part, him panting softly, him trying his best to capture her lips again, only for her to evade. “I want to kiss you.” 

“Do you?” She asks, a soft hum on her lips as she brushes them by his ear, earning a shiver. “Badly?” 

“Everywhere.” He’s feeling bolder now, straightening his posture so he can give her more - tensing the muscles of his thighs as she rocks - rewarded with a surprised, pleased little noise, even more at how he shifts her himself, across the strength of his thigh, exposed now. 

“Not worried we’re going to get caught?” She asks, met with beautiful, darkened eyes. 

“You said that I didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing us.” He reminds. “Who’d dare interrupt their queen?” He mimics her voice from before, pleased when she laughs, when she grips lightly at his hair, tugging again just to make him whine.

“Brat.” But her tone is fond, like she’s seen him and found nothing displeasing in the least. “But you’re right, no one would dare.” She eyes him, noting the way his hands grip at her, eager to get her out of her clothes. “Don’t you try it.” She warns before he can act. “Seeing me naked is something that you’ll have to earn I’m afraid.” Even as she says that, her hand is grasping at the tie around his, her eyes meeting his own, seeking a silent permission he gives readily. 

The ribbon holding it closed is pulled away, her hand making contact with his lower stomach. Dipping lower, finding purchase on something that makes him hiss. 

“A-Ah - “ “Hard.” She poses, and its not a question, its an observation. He’s hard. “Pretty.” She tacks on. “Even your cock is pretty.” He feels like he could combust, head dropping to hid in the crook of her neck.

“N-Noona.” He whines. “Don’t say that.” 

“Come on, Jungkookie.” There is a note of challenge to her tone. “Are you just going to sit here while I touch your dick? Or are you going to help your wife, hm?  She glances at his hands on her hips, looking back up at him. 

Its enough, he’s back at it, biting his lip as she touches him, and her touch is light, light as she trails fingertips against the head of his cock, dips them down to grasp at him, pulling her hand away so she can lick her palm. He’s entranced, only shifting her hips because she told him to, entirely too focused on her damp palm meeting his skin again, dragging up, up, up.

But that’s not the only sensation. Its her, rutting against his thigh when he’s not fast enough, thumbing at his tip. He is conscious of his moans, soft and eager, and that’s about it, overwhelmed with the feeling.

“N-Noona - “ “Beautiful.” She answers him, and he can feel her - her essence against his skin, he’s flustered. “Lazy.” She teases and he whines, this time actually dragging her against his thigh. Again, then again, over and over - movements faltering as her drag up his skin sped up.

It - it was so hard to focus - 

“I-It would be easier if I was inside you.” He finally counters, words catching up with his thoughts - and that gets a reaction, her thighs clamping around his, her movement stuttering. “If y-you let me - “ “Already at the business of begetting heirs?” her palm slips from him and he whimpers. “Not yet, if you want it, I need it first.” She warns. She doesn’t mind being selfish, he already knows - and he doesn’t mind it either. 

“Then let me give it to you.” He’s pulling away, eyeing her. “Let me - let me worship you, on my knees, since you’re my...my queen - my wife.” and he is on his knees, already, something that clearly pleases her.

“Worship me?” She asks, perching up on her hands, legs stretched out in front of her. “You mean between my thighs, where you belong, right?” His cock is still hard, she muses, still throbbing and leaking, and eager - but making him wait was good, bringing him close to the edge and then not letting him…

Perfect.

“Can I?” He asks again, needing more than that from her. “Please - “ “You should talk less.” She answers him. “You’re wasting time you could be worshipping me.” It spurs him forward, but she meets him halfway. He is pushed down, pulled forward, till his nose was brushing against her core, silk robe falling around exposed hips and soon enough her legs were resting on his shoulders, holding him in place. He looked up, finding her flushed, seemingly eager. 

“This – this is what you want?”

“Come on, Kookie –  You said you wanted to worship me, to be on your knees before me...So…why don’t you show me what that mouth does…besides teasing.”

 “Ngh -!” Jungkook flushes hard at the crude words that fall from her lips, his whole body uncomfortably hot. He wants to hide his face from her dark gaze but with the firm grip she had on his hair, he couldn’t move. Even then, he isn’t sure he could, trapped in her gaze the way he was. “V-Vulgar.”

 “I’m just telling you what I want, Jungkookie. You said you were going to….so do it.” The way she is looking at him makes that fire ignite in his blood again, a deep sense of desire and wanting.

 Because she is right. Jungkook wants to watch as she fell apart, her thighs trembling from around his head, his name like a prayer on her lips as her back arched with pleasure. 

 He wants nothing more.

 “Okay.” He murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to her thighs, intent on getting her just as hot as he felt. “You’re so wet for me, Noona.” Slowly, he ghosts his mouth over her core before going to press kisses to her other thigh, not missing the way she tensed and let out a little huff when he passed over her center.

 “I’d be wetter if you actually used your tongue on me.”

 “Maybe so.” He hums, letting his thumb brush over her clit, the corners of his lips twitching upwards at her soft whimper and he wonders if she tastes as sweet as the noises she makes, as sweet as the honey that he had tasted on her tongue earlier. Jungkook lets his gaze rest on hers before giving an experimental circle of his tongue on her clit, the woman jolting at the touch.

 “J-Jungkook-!“

 He doesn’t pause, his eyes still on hers as he wraps pretty lips around her pearl, giving a gentle suck, just to see how she’d react, a finger drawing over her entrance.

 Jungkook is not disappointed at her reaction, her hands falling free of his hair, digging into the wood of the veranda beneath her. She moans, a pleased – heady sound, her heels pressing into his back, pushing him closer and closer to her core. So – so she liked that, then,  Jungkook took note, returning to kitten licking at her.

 Don’t try to overwhelm her with the first thing you find she likes, take your time, savor her, till she’s aching with need - advice from his older brother about what to do with girls - he’d taken it, and it had always seemed to work. he took a breath, his warmth ghosting over her as he pressed his finger against her.

 “Noona – c-can – can I?” Jungkook asked, wanting to make sure.

 “Yes –! ngh – “ She tenses at the feeling of his finger. “F-Fuck… please – “ He slid a finger inside of her, the feeling making him whimper against her core. She – she was so warm, clenching around him...

 “O-Oh –“ He couldn’t help press his hips against the floor, searching for friction. How was it going to feel…buried inside of her, the hot, and wet and – and tight. He really was going to have to work her over now…because he doubted he was going to last very long at all. “Noona – you – you feel – so good.” Her thighs pressed against his face, and her head was tossed back.

 “More – Kookie – more, y-you can be more rough with me.” His name on her lips, the endearment not lost on him, spoken so fondly, with such need – Jungkook can’t help himself but give in to her desires. Sliding his finger out, till she whined at the empty feeling, this time her thrust two in, harder, teeth just lightly grazing her clit. If – if she wanted rough –

 “A-Ah! Jungkook!” the moan was sinful, and more of a cry, a shudder going through her as she tenses – “Ngh…ah..” He is thrusting his fingers into her, sitting up to press a kiss to her stomach, to bite lightly at her skin.

 “Noona – Noona – you’re driving me crazy –“ The boy pants, still rutting into the floor. “You – ngh – you sound so hot, I – I can’t – “

“Jungkook- “ Her voice sounds almost scolding. “Don’t – don’t you dare get yourself off.” He froze, not realizing she could tell.”

“B-But…But Noona –“ he whines, met with her hands in his hair again, pulling roughly.

 “No – you – you’re pleasuring me now. Just me.”

 Just her...

 Jungkook wanted to pout, to whine more at her scolding. It- it was hard to not lose himself over in the sound of her moans, the cry of his name falling from her lips. He couldn’t help that he wanted to be inside of her, actually inside of her- not just his fingers. To have her clenched tight around him.

 “J-Jungkook, move..” His wife gives a little wriggle of her hips, huffing at the stilling of his fingers. Brat. Trying to get off by himself- like she wouldn’t notice the shift of his hip and his soft whimpers against her skin. She gives him a cool look from his place between her legs. “Unless you want me to finish what you started on my own-“

 “N-No!” He blurted, his doe eyes wide at her implication. “No, Noona.” He repeated, slowly resuming his finger work, her shuddering in response. “Let- let me take care of you.” And then his mouth was on her again, sucking, licking, his fingers crooking inside of her- crooking his fingers to find that spot that’d make her see stars. He’d know just by the way-

 “A-Ah -“ Her grip on his hair tightened, holding him in place. “Ngh, K-Kookie, right- right there.” She moans. “D-Don’t you dare stop.” She could feel him smirk against her and honestly, she would’ve said something if it didn’t feel so fucking good, his tongue flattening against her clit before circling around the nub. She was close, she could feel it- that pleasure growing tight like a bow that was being strung. She was just about to fall until-

 Until-

 “S-Stop -!”

 Her gasp took him by surprise, her pulling him away from her immediately. Jungkook blinked up at her, confusion on his face. She had told him not to stop before... Had- had he done something wrong? “Noona...?”

 “C-Come here.” She shifts then, pulling him up to her so she could capture his lips with hers, tasting herself on his tongue. Her hands dropped to his waist, a whine in Jungkook’s throat, his hips bucking against her hand as she palms at him again, a whimper as she bites down on his lip.

 “Ngh, Noona, why...why’d you have me stop?” He felt his dick twitch in her hand and gods, he wishes he could feel her properly. “Y-You were close, a-ah, I could feel it.”

 “I was, you’re right.” Finally- finally, she moves, grasping his hand to put it against the tie of her robe.. “But if I’m going to cum...then I want to be doing it around your cock- not your fingers. I want you to see all of me.” That’s all he needs, pulling at it, undoing it - watching the silk slip from her shoulders, slowly exposing all of her.

She’s beautiful, but he already knows that. 

 “Jungkook.” Her voice is breathy, and her fingers traced patterns against the skin of his chest as he takes her in. “Kookie – you’re – you’re breathtaking.” He whines softly, hiding his face against her neck again, clearly flustered at her words.

“I -  I should be telling you that - “ He protests, but she is unabashed.  

“Jungkookie…” A hand dipped lower, finding purchase on his cock, swollen, pre-cum dripping.

 He is big. And even his dick was pretty, smooth and straight, with a gentle curve upward, She thinks wryly, wondering how physical perfection had managed to manifest itself so clearly in this man. Like every bit was crafted to draw a reaction from her, to make her long for him, yearn for him, need to have him.

She had known from the moment she’d seen him. 

“Noona- “ 

“I’m yours to take.” She answers the unspoken question, pulling him to her, till he is gripping at her hips, glad that he had something to hold onto so his hands wouldn’t shake, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted her hips upwards. Slowly, slowly, he sinks into her. Glad not to have to wait anymore, a whine on his lips at her heat that surrounds him and he feels her stiffen, her mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ of pleasure. “N-Noona -“

 She is hot and...and so tight around him, clenched like a vice, and he knows- Jungkook knows that he won’t be able to last very long.

 “Ngh-“ A gasp leaves her throat at him suddenly thrusting inside. “K-Kook -“

 “A-Ah, Noona, I- ngh, I can’t help it.” He leans forward, pressing kisses to her neck, her hands coming up to grip at his shoulders. “You- you feel so good.”

“Do i?” She asks, his reaction more than enough to clarify, hips setting a pace that seems to surprise her. “Ngh - you - you feel good too.” 

“A-And you’re beautiful.” Jungkook finally feels brave enough to say it. “I - I’m a little terrified of you, b-but I don’t regret this.” Its sweet, in its own way, and it makes her laugh.

“I hope you never do.” She is kissing him again. 

“W-What about you?” He asks after a moment. “Do you r-regret it?” “Never.” She answers against his lips. “Now, stop this idle worrying, let me feel your cum dripping out of me, instead.”

 “N-Noona – you – you can’t say that.” Jungkook works on steadying himself, methodical in his thrusts, her words echoing in his head. That thought – the feeling of her, he can’t help thrust as deep as he can, feeling her nails dig into his skin, her small pleasured sounds filling the air. He could feel her tense, like this, his name falling from her lips as she gripped at him.

 “K-Kookie – there – that’s it. Ngh – just like that.” She wasn’t shy under him, her legs wrapping around his narrow hips, drawing a soft groan from him.

 “It – ngh – feels too good.” Jungkook whines, only to have her pull him into a kiss…one he wasn’t sure was to silence her or himself. Whatever it was, it was messy, teeth and tongue and sounds of pleasure.

 But – but – he can feel it, that same feeling in his stomach, and he knew he needed to finish her, rewarded with her flat out moan, the loudest sound he had heard come from her, heady and high, when his fingers met her bud, breaking their messy kisses to toss her head back, a shudder coursing down her body.

 “J-Jungkook - !” There it is, the boy is triumphant, rubbing at her roughly – its what she wanted after all – still pounding into her, thrusts growing more and more sloppy with every move. He could feel her again – too, the way she tenses and tightens, but even in his triumph he couldn’t help the words on his lips.

 “Please, please – please Noona, please cum.” He is begging, his own mind hazy with pleasure. “Ngh – need you too…really bad.” He didn’t know what possessed him, slamming into her enough to make him wince, but it was enough.

 It was too much – the feeling of her falling apart, how tight she was, pulsing against him, too much – and he -and he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He empties himself in her, feeling very much so like a bucket, tossed to the ground, water spilled. 

“I told you no one would catch us.” She speaks after his breath settles, idly playing with his hair. “My dear husband.” “Y-You - I’m...I’m happy.” His words don’t fit hers, but they do all at once, telling her directly what she wanted to know. “That you chose me to give a crown to.” 

“Your magic sang to mine.” is all she says in return, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Your loneliness called to mine, because you were always meant to be mine...and i was always meant to be yours.” 

#bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts romance #bts jungkook #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bangtan au #bangtan fic #ficswithluv #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanhq #bangtansorciere

[btsmakesmehappy]

MicroWave | 1

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Future Smut

Pairing: Agent!Yoongi x Reader (Agent au. Neighbor au)

Word Count: 4,8k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: stalker (not explicit), Yoongi is a soft bun, Y/N is clumsy and naive.

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | completed

Summary: Yoongi can’t help to worry about his neighbor. Not only that she almost burned the apartment down, she also trusts people too much, and yet she doesn’t want people to help her. She is just trouble written in bold and capital and he shouldn’t be acquainted with her. But yet, he makes it his mission to help her with all costs.

Series Masterlist: The Company

Go check the other series because *sst... It’s all connected!

A/N: Thank you again @arizonapoppy who always help me! Without you, I won't even have any will to write and finish this series. Love you!

also please send me asks for the feedbacks and if you want to be added in The Company taglist!

You don’t know what you would do now if you choose to stay in the countryside. Maybe you’d sow seeds or milk the cow. Maybe your skin would be so tanned because you spend most of your time outdoors. Maybe you’d be sent into marriage with a neighbor's grandchild just so you can maintain your grandparents’ farm. Or maybe you’d be staying at home, nursing your second-born child to sleep.

But instead, you chose to accept your teacher’s offer for some scholarship in the city. Instead of staying in your comfortable grandparents’ house, you used all of your savings and some of your parents’ insurance money to rent a studio apartment in the city. Instead of eating warm nutritious meals three times a day, you eat mostly twice a day, But don’t take it the wrong way: you eat warm food too, since you usually eat microwave dinners.

You’re grateful to receive a scholarship to such a prestigious university in the city. You do. Even if the scholarship only covers your tuition fee, you’re still happy. Even if it means you need to work multiple part-time jobs just so you can buy food, books, or basically anything to live a proper life, you still have a smile on your face.

Yes, you want to live in a more positive way. You’re just being optimistic here.

You loved living in the city when you were kid, but when your parents suddenly died in an accident, you had no choice but to live with your grandparents. It’s not that you hated them. You do love your grandparents. But to move to a place completely different when you’re just a ten year old was very hard. You missed the sound of cars and the loud noises of the city. You missed the bright lamplights in the night. You missed walking only five minutes to get your favorite ice cream from the convenience store.

So when you dropped your luggage in your new apartment, the first thing you did was to open your window widely, letting the noises fill your dusty room. You’re happy to finally live in the city again, happy to start something new. Happy that you can do whatever you want.

And now, you’re in your third year of your university, still struggling to live by eating instant food.

You open your fridge to check on your stock of food and decide that chicken rice will be your dinner tonight. It’s been four days that you’ve eaten the same stuff. You’re sick of it, but you won’t complain about it anyway. You can’t.

As you push your food into the microwave, your phone vibrates in your pocket. After you push the start button, you walk to your desk while fishing your phone from the pocket and put it on your ear. “Hey granny! How are you?”

“I’m fine! How about you? Are you eating well?” Your grandmother yells from the other end, it means that she puts it in the speaker again, while she is doing something.

You giggle and take a glance at your microwave on the countertop. “Yes. I’m good too. I eat so much every day that I don’t even want to take a look at my scale. What are you doing anyway?”

“Really? Good then. I’m making lasagna for your grandfather. He’s a little upset that the tractor broke yesterday and he even slipped in front of the Baek family.” she laughs a little.

“Oh my God, is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, just a low back pain. And shame. Oh, I should send you some too! You love my lasagna, after all.”

You smile as you open your laptop. “I’m fine, just eat it with grandpa. I’ll send you some money for the tractor, okay? And take him to the hospital if he’s still in pain.”

DUAR

You turn immediately to the source of the sound, eyes widen as you see smoke coming from your microwave. “Granny, I have to go. Talk to you later. I love you. Please send kisses to grandpa as well!” you hurriedly speak and hang up the phone.

You walk quickly to the kitchen and unplug the cord from the socket, then open your door and windows to let the smoke out. Luckily you see no fire or anything, but you just wasted money on your burnt dinner.

You sigh, and lightly stroke the microwave. “You know, when I adopted you from a thrift store, I expected more. But well, maybe three years is more than enough.” You hug the machine tightly. It’s one of your most prized possessions in your apartment, and your first thing you bought when you move to the city. It has sentimental meaning to you. “Thank you for the three years. You’re the best-”

“What are you doing?”

You jerk with the sudden voice coming from the door. Your eyes fall to the pale man with messy hair leaning on your doorframe with an amused smile on his face. You immediately release the machine with red cheeks, feeling embarrassed to be exposed. “Nothing.” You smile awkwardly. You scan the man from the head to toe, trying to remember who he is. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. You are?”

“Oh right, I’m sorry. I’m your new neighbor. I just moved today. 3C.” He reaches his hand out to you. “I’m Min Yoongi, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you too.” You accept the hand politely. “Do you need something?”

He scratches his head lightly. “Not really, I just heard a big sound and I was wondering what it was. It looks like it came from your room.”

You fiddle with your shirt nervously. “Yes, my microwave seems to be broken. Don’t worry though, it didn’t catch fire and I believe the fire alarm will work well.”

He nods and walks away from the door, slightly eyeing the microwave you hugged earlier. “If you want, I can try to fix it. Just let me know.”

You smile. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Cute.

You shake your head quickly and close your door. You sit again in front of your desk, hands reach for your phone, deciding to transfer some money to your grandparents.

You sigh after reading the amount of money in your account. This semester cost more than the last semester. That means: today is another cup noodles day.

A month later

When you grew up in the countryside, you always knew your neighbors. It’s kinda rude if you just stay at your home without mingling with the others. But life in the city is different. After almost three years living in this apartment, you only know your landlady, who’s living on the first floor. That’s it.

Oh, except you knew a man on the same floor as yours, who you met a month ago.

Min Yoongi left an impression on you. Like how his hair is always messy and he looks so tired. How his skin is so fair that it’s almost white, hidden in his long sleeves. He actually looks so cold and unfriendly compared to your neighbors in the countryside, but in this city, especially in this apartment, he is more friendly than any of your neighbors.

Well, you don’t practically know why. You only met him twice or maybe thrice after he snuck to your door in your smoking the microwave incident. And it’s a shame how he always met you in such unfortunate events, like when your keys fell from your ripped pocket, or your bag of groceries just exploded, or even when you slipped in the hallway.

It’s also annoying how you’re supposed to help him since he’s the new one, but instead he’s the one who helps you. It just makes you lose the opportunity to befriend him. You’re almost sure that he’ll think of you as an unlucky woman and will avoid you for the rest of his life.

But you were wrong.

It is Tuesday evening at six o’clock, when you hear a knock on your door. When you open it, you’re surprised and a little delighted to see Yoongi standing before you. You smile. “Hey, neighbor! Can I help you?”

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck. “Hi, do you mind if I borrow a pot?”

“Sure. Let me-” your hand pauses before the cabinet. As your microwave is broken, you’ve had to cook instant noodles for the past few weeks, so you actually need it. But this man seems to need it too and you have to reply to his kindness from before. But you don’t have any other pot or pan and you don’t really want to go to the convenience store. Wait, what day is it? Tuesday? Then he shouldn’t be working tonight. It should be okay then.

“If you need to use it, it’s okay.”

You open the cabinet and pull out your pink pot. “Don’t worry. You can use it. I’m not cooking for tonight.”

Yoongi receives it with a wide smile. “Thank you, I’ll return it as soon as possible. Have a good night!”

You wave to him vigorously with a smile, feeling happy that at least you can help him once.

You look at your watch and immediately grab your purse. You have a little time to shop before seven. Well, you already know what you’ll buy since you need to save as much money as possible. With that kimbap in your thoughts, you run outside to go to the convenience store.

At least tonight, you won’t eat some cup noodles.

At least for tonight, you won’t think about your savings.

You open the store with your elbow and head directly to the food section. You look into the various types of kimbap, frowning a little after seeing the empty tray of your favorite tuna mayonnaise. Just when your hand reaches the salmon, another hand sweeps in and grabs the last salmon kimbap. “Ah,” you whine quietly.

“Oh, sorry, do you want this?”

A little perplexed, you wave your hands vigorously. “It’s fine. I can take anything. You should take it.” You look at the man before you; his small face is covered with a black mask and a black baseball hat. “Ohh, Yoongi-ssi?”

“Hey, Y/N. I didn’t realize that this would be your dinner. Then you should take this. I borrowed your pot, it’s just inappropriate for me to ruin your dinner plan again.” His eyes narrow to crescents and he places the kimbap in your hand.

You laugh awkwardly. “Thank you. I.. appreciate this, I guess.”

“Y/N?”

A sudden call of your name makes you freeze in the spot. You’re familiar with the voice and you’ve been avoiding him so hard for two years. It’s just so unlucky for you to suddenly meet him.

The man walks closer to you. “Right? You’re Y/N?”

You try to ignore him and unconsciously hide your body behind your neighbor. Your hands tremble as you hold your kimbap for dear life and your mind goes blank.

Yoongi looks at you with a raised eyebrow and turns his head slightly to look at the man who is approaching you. Yoongi then lightly pats your trembling hand and takes the kimbap from you, placing it in his basket. “You only want this? You really need to eat more, you know.” He picks another type of kimbap and puts them in the basket again. “You need to eat at least three of these.”

You look at him confusedly and nod. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He smiles again. Even though his mouth is hidden in his mask, his eyes crinkle cutely. He holds your hand all the way to the cashier. “You sure you don’t want the ice cream? You know, the fish-shaped thing you always love?”

“No. Ibst guess...” you answer as you follow Yoongi, leaving the other man standing confused in the aisle. Still he looks at you weirdly from afar, sending shivers through your spine.

Yoongi puts the basket on the checkout counter and shrugs. “Fine, don’t steal mine,” he giggles and ruffles your hair. He gives his credit card to the cashier and leans toward your ear. “My treat.”

You look at Yoongi again, who is now holding a bag of groceries in his hand, but this time in amazement. He seems bigger, like a knight in shining armor. Well, a knight in an all-black outfit from head to toe.

Wait a minute, Yoongi is a stranger. Why are you letting a random man hold your hand?

But still, you let him. You let his big hand wrap yours. You let the warmth from his hand seep into your skin.

And you feel more relaxed than ever. You feel safe with him beside you.

Just as both of you step outside the store, Yoongi leans toward you again. “That man is still looking at us. Actually he seems like glaring? Do you want to walk around for a little bit to lose him?”

You turn to face him, to sneak a glance at the man behind you and you see him still looking at you. “Can we? I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Not a problem.” Yoongi walks again, dragging you with him in the opposite direction of your apartment.

You walk in the neighborhood casually side by side. It’s a little past six in the evening, but the wind still feels cold on your skin. You cross your arms to wrap your body, trying to keep you a little warmer.

“You want to head back?” Yoongi asks softly.

You shake your head and smile. “No, it’s fine. It’s been a while since I walked around the neighborhood. This is nice.” You turn to him with concern on your face. “I’m sorry. But we can head back, if you want. I’m sure you have something to do.”

He shrugs. “Nah. This is nice.” He lets out a little yawn. “Makes me a little sleepy, but it’s alright.”

“Yes. it’s kind of comforting.”

“Let me guess. An obsessive ex-boyfriend?”

You scoff. “Kinda. How did you tell?”

“He’s still following behind us, hiding behind the brown building. And as for the boyfriend, I just guessed.”

“Wow, you’re an observant guy, aren’t you?”

He giggles. “Well, it’s either I’m observant or that man just plainly sucks at following you.”

“Thank you anyway. I appreciate it.”

"No worries." He stops at the nearby park. Taking up a seat on the bench, he opens the grocery bag. He removes his mask and puts it in his pocket. "So what do you do?"

You accept the kimbap he hands you with a small nod. "I'm in my third year in university. Also work part-time at some places. You?"

Yoongi opens a salmon kimbap and bites into it. "I work in technical stuff."

"Oh that's why you told me you can save my Mickey." You nod again in understanding as you chew quickly.

"Mickey?" He raises an eyebrow as he hands you another kimbap.

You laugh awkwardly. "I mean, my microwave. Sorry that was super weird."

Yoongi lets out a laugh. "Not at all. I think it's cute. Well, a little weird actually, but that's acceptable."

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you try to ignore it by munching your second kimbap.

Yoongi watches you eat with a smile in his face. He always loves to watch the others eat, and seeing you tear into those kimbaps so deliciously just makes him full of contentment. He looks around the perimeter to search for the questionable man but he can't find him anymore. "You want to head back? I think he’s gone."

You nod with your full mouth. Gathering your trash, you throw it into the nearby bin.

The walk back to your apartment is actually quite fun as both of you try to get to know each other. It’s been a tiring month as you worked your ass off, so actually talking to people really means something to you. You learned that he moved here from Hawaii as a relocation, while he learned that you are in a scholarship program and live alone. The last part was his guess as he takes you to your door and picks your spare keys under a potted plant in front of your door. “You really should find a new place for that spare key. You live alone, right? It’s dangerous.”

You take your key from his hand and smile sheepishly. “Right. Thank you.”

“Or maybe you should install a security lock, you know, that kind with a passcode, it’s easier and you don’t need to bring a key with you,” Yoongi says. He gives you another kimbap before you walk inside your living room.

You look at your feet, lost in thought. You’ve been thinking about it since a year ago, but since you’re too busy at your work and have to save money, you never were able to do it. “How much does it usually cost?”

“It depends, but actually I have a ‘buy one get one’ free promo after I installed mine. Don’t ask, I also don’t know why they had that promo. If you want, I can contact them for you.”

“Really? I’ll be thankful. So I pay you half price then?”

He smiles widely and you actually can see his gums. “You don’t need to. It’s just free stuff. But don’t worry, I know the owner so I assure you that it’s the good one.”

Your eyes widen. “But... I don’t really want to bother you...”

He pats your shoulder and turns away. “Just take it, okay? Just think of it as my welcome gift!”

You reach out your hand to grab his sleeves. “Why-why are you helping me?” It’s just what you’ve been taught when you’re a kid: you should never receive help from strangers, who know what they’d want. It might be a trap or fraud. It won't hurt to have a little suspicion, right? Sure, this is maybe not the best way to address your suspicion so explicitly.

“Because I know it’s hard for you to live in this city, study, and make money at the same time. Besides, we are friends and also neighbors. We should help each other.” He smiles again and ruffles your hair. “I had a great time talking with you, neighbor. Just remember to close your door and windows. Oh and here.” He picks a yellowish bottle from his paper bag and hands it to you, a banana milk, and walks away.

You see him walk to his door, and when he wants to close the door, he mouths, Go inside already.

And it makes your heart skip a beat.

You lean on your door after you close it tight. Your face is getting hotter and you feel weird as you look at the banana milk in your hands.

Jesus, he might be a serial killer or human trafficker.

And yet, you decided to trust him for now. Sure, maybe you’re just too naive, but you literally don’t have anyone in this city, let alone a friend. So, the thought of having a new hot friend who happily helps you just makes you elated. This is maybe your happiest moment in three years, even beating the moment when you got a bonus from your work.

Yoongi hums as he enters his apartment. He always does it when he’s in a happy mood and seeing him in that condition makes another man on the other side of the apartment annoyed.

“Where the heck did you go, hyung? I thought you just went to the nearby store?” Jungkook yells, never moving his eyes from his phone.

Yoongi puts the bag on his counter and starts unloading it. “I just met my neighbor and walked around a little.” He takes a good glance at Jungkook and sighs. “Seriously, what happened last night? You just disappeared when I paid for the drinks and came back in the middle of the night looking this miserable.”

Jungkook bites his lips, refusing to answer. He just looks at his phone silently.

“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me.” Yoongi’s eyes fall on a pink pot in his sink. “Glad that you didn’t skip a meal.” Yoongi picks up a kimbap and throws it to Jungkook. He looks at the fish-shaped ice cream bar on his counter, pouting a little when he finds it has already melted.

“Where is my banana milk?” Jungkook asks around a mouth full of food.

Yoongi throws his melted ice cream into the trash. “Oh, right. I’m sorry I forgot about it.”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi with a pout on his face, not only does his woman not want to talk to him, he can’t even have his favorite drink. Well, Jungkook can’t be mad at Yoongi, as he is the guest: living and eating as he likes in Yoongi’s apartment. He’s actually pretty lucky that Yoongi doesn’t kick his butt out of his place.

“I’m going to work in my room, so please don’t disturb me.” Yoongi walks to his room full of computer screens with a bottle of americano in his hand. “And turn off the lights when you go.”

With a small slam of his door, Yoongi sits at his desk. He’s still investigating the incident in the hall and forensic office a few days ago. It shouldn’t be hard, since not many people came to the Company on the day of the incident, but unlucky for him, the culprit was doing a great job to hide his body and face from the CCTV. It makes his job harder. The way the culprit moves the CCTV cameras to hide his figure seems like a professional job. Maybe, hopefully not, that incident is connected with the Black.

Yoongi lets out a sigh and runs his hand through his hair, the bright screens lighting his pale face. He feels bad for all of his team. He was the one who handled the Black Case in Hawaii, and he did it poorly. If only he went into the field more and wasn’t stuck in front of his computers, maybe he wouldn’t have lost Jiseok two years ago. If only he had looked for the Black a little more back then, maybe he could have found Jiseok and maybe that incident in Hawaii a month ago wouldn't have happened.

He feels that it’s partly his fault.

Sure, his team never blames him. He couldn’t do anything anyway two years ago, since it was a secret mission. But still, the fact that he couldn’t do anything was killing him, and soon enough it turned into regrets, which sometimes sneak into his sleep, pestering him as a nightmare.

That’s why he asked the Boss personally to be relocated here even if he hates working in an office. He doesn’t want to miss anything about this mission. He needs to stop the Black, even if it means that he needs to wake up in the morning --so cruel!-- just to go to the office. This mission is his priority right now. He has to do something.

His fingers move quickly over the keyboard, changing the view countless times. This is going to be a long night, but luckily he had a great dinner before and he’s sure that he can make it through the night. And hopefully he can get some leads.

Yoongi walks lazily to his kitchen in the morning, only to find that his living room is too bright. He looks around and his eyes fall on Jungkook who is still in the same spot as yesterday. “Man, you didn’t go home?”

Jungkook turns his head to meet Yoongi’s eyes. “Is it morning already?”

Yoongi sighs and opens his fridge to pull out a carton of milk. “Let’s have breakfast.”

“I’m not starving.” Jungkook looks at his phone again and slides it into his pocket. He stands and walks to the bathroom. “I’m just going to wash up for a bit.”

Yoongi looks at his younger friend with a sad smile. He doesn’t know what happened to Jungkook, but it is surely serious and bad. He takes his phone from the counter and texts Taehyung about Jungkook. He knows that it isn’t his place to meddle in other people’s business, but he’s worried about Jungkook; everyone does.

Jungkook is like his little brother. He basically raised him along with other agents. Jungkook is like a fused version of the older ones. And even though Jungkook is a grown-up right now, Yoongi sometimes still sees him as a shy kid who laughed with hands covering his mouth. Jungkook laughs freely now, but he is still a little shy, especially with that girl in forensics.

Yoongi scoffs, who would even think that Jungkook would be this mad about that girl?

Thirty minutes later, both Yoongi and Jungkook are both ready to go to work. It’s as they are walking down the hallway, that you open your door.

You wear a grey hoodie and black pants. You sling your blue backpack clumsily with your hands full, a big water bottle in your right hand and a banana milk in your left. Your hair is tied into a low ponytail, your usual hairstyle. “Hey, neighbor!” you call out to them.

Yoongi replies with a nod, as he drags Jungkook with him. “Morning, Y/N. This is my friend, Jungkook.”

You look at Jungkook, who keeps silent in confusion. The way the taller man’s eyes show sadness and fatigue actually makes you curious. “Not a morning person, I assume?” you laugh a little as you hand the banana milk to Jungkook.

“You don’t have to. Isn’t this your breakfast?” Yoongi asks as he pushes Jungkook’s hand away from the milk.

“That’s fine. It seems he needs it more.” You grab Jungkook’s hand and put the milk in his grip. “Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods weakly. “Nice to meet you too. Thank you for the milk.”

You smile at both of the men and walk to the stairs. “I see you later, I guess.”

“Oh right, when do you want to change the key? I called the shop and they can do it today.”

You stop walking and turn to see Yoongi. “Today? I don’t think I can. I have a job until the evening.” You tap your finger on your chin, thinking. “Do I have to be here when they install it?”

Yoongi looks at you weirdly, not knowing where the conversation is headed. "Not really, why?”

Your face beams as you continue to talk and hand the key. “Then would you tell them that I put the key in the potted plant?”

Yoongi eyes widen. “What?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “What? I’m sorry I don’t want to bother you again, but would you please tell-”

“Are you crazy? Why’d you give the key to strangers?”

“I don’t really have a choice! You’re right I really should install it since I’ve lost like twenty keys since I lived here. But I don’t really have the time. I work every single day till evening,” you pout as you fiddle with the hem of your hoodie.

Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “What about the weekend? Or any other day?”

You shake your head weakly. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t change the lock. Sorry that I bothered you with this kind of thing.”

He sighs and reaches out his hand. “Fine. I’ll be there when they change it.”

“What? No-no. You have a job, I don’t want to disturb you.”

Yoongi quickly grabs the keys from your hand and puts it in his pants. “That’s okay. I’ll check it at lunchtime. The faster the key changes is the better for my sanity.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” He sighs again as he hands you his phone. “Just at least keep your phone with you, okay? I’m gonna update you by text.”

Your eyes beam in admiration and you quickly tap in your numbers. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” You look at your watch and your eyes widen. “Oh my God, I have to go now. Just call or text me if you need something.”

Yoongi watches you running down the stairs and shakes his head in disbelief. He actually wants to offer his car to drive you to your university, but you run so fast that you’re gone before he can even say anything.

“Wow, she is really gullible, isn’t she? She’ll get hurt someday.” Jungkook scoffs and stabs the straw on the lid of the banana milk. It’s when he sips the milk, he smiles a little. “Or maybe she’s just stupid?”

“She literally just gave her breakfast to you, don’t be such a jackass. But yeah, I think so too.” Yoongi looks at the screen of his phone, your phone number, and then to your door. Why do I keep wanting to help her?

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[inkedtae]

a brew of wings ⇾ myg. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ dragon!yoongi x witch!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  daechwita inspired, fantasy, magic realism, smut, fluff, angst-ish, hybrid au, shifter au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  your tiny tea shop is the perfect front for harbouring hybrid fugitives

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 10.3k 

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of captivity, mentions of death, hard dom!yoongi, lip piercing!yoongi, big dicc!yoongi, tattooed!yoongi, sub!reader, tea shop owner!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, a lil dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, oral (m. receiving), multiple orgasms, begging, teasing, spanking, a lil choking, spit play, breath play

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ happy halloween!! speical thanks to selene (@jksangelic​) for helping me out a bit with logisitics!!! enjoy :)

♕ This is dedicated to @kkulmoon​. My bestest soulmate!!!

♕ banner/border by ⇾ @suqakoo (jiji is wonderful and deserves all the love and this is a beautiful banner)

♕ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk (a hundred kisses and thanks to this gems for always being there for me~~)

♕ le playlist 

In the humble village of Daegu, sandwiched between a blacksmith and mechanic, a tiny tea shop lives - exactly where Namjoon said it would be. But, not at all like his mother had described all those years ago. Technology has bled into every corner of her once little world. Yoongi wonders if she would still recognize it as he watches customers filter in and out from under his wickered hat.  The tea shop seems all too busy to resemble anything close to a hybrid asylum, but Namjoon was specific. Perhaps Yoongi shouldn’t trust knights of the king. Most have a reputation for hybrid mistreatment. However, there isn’t much logic in letting Yoongi run so far only to be captured in an obscure tea shop. And besides, Namjoon is a friend. Perhaps the closest he’d encountered in a long while.

“She’s going to scold you.”

“Nix loves me too much to scold me.”

Nix. The familiar name redirects Yoongi’s attention to the two men walking by him. The taller one, with features so symmetrical they almost seem unreal, rests a fishing pole over his shoulder. The shorter one, with the sharper tongue, carries a bag that clatters with glass. They enter the shop causally tossing curses at each other. Yoongi reaches into his pocket, unfolding the little piece of parchment Namjoon ripped to scribble on. 

utopia, nix, huckleberry lemon on ice.

One glance up at the flickering neon sign above the storefront attempts to spell Teatopia, but the first strokes of light seem to be dead. Instead, it glows atopia. Tremors of the midnight train suddenly resonate around the evening market. All lights flicker and dishes clatter, though the villagers' conversations carry on. Their affairs remain uninterrupted, eyes focused only on each other. Yoongi clenches his fists and digs his feet into the ground to steady himself until the train finally passes. When he glances back up at the neon sign, parts of the first ‘a’ flicker out to read utopia. 

Rolling his shoulders back, Yoongi bears his fangs behind sealed lips, as a precaution, then pushes the door open. A bell chimes. Patrons sit around velvet draped tables. They engage in  lively conversations, breaking steamed buns together and sipping on all sorts of tea. But, it’s the steady crackles of the fireplace that pique Yoongi’s interest. The amber embers beneath the flames soothe the heaviness upon his chest. One breathful of floral smoke, and he sinks into comfort.

That is until a black cat purrs down by his feet. Yoongi snaps his gaze down to find it circling between his legs then prancing off behind the counter. The two men bickering outside sit at the bar in front of a woman looking more unimpressed the longer they speak. Yoongi retracts his fangs, eyes fixated on the way your brows dance with annoyance. And that dress. He doesn’t care much for fashion but you seem to wear it differently, simply. Most people, much like him, travel with layers. Only a black dress clothes you, sleeves flourishing at your wrists and laces around your cleavage. Though, he really shouldn’t let his eyes wander.

Yoongi ignores the heat rushing to his cheeks as he approaches the counter. The black cat sits by the one-eyed register. Its tail swirls and emerald eyes remain on him. He tentatively takes a seat by a sleeping old man, a couple seats away from the arguing men. 

“Nixy,” the shorter one smirks. “You wouldn’t scold me, right.”

You, Nix it would seem, cross your arms under your chest. You hold a blank expression until the taller one sighs and grumbles, “He stopped for a pack of stray dogs.”

“Jin! You promis- He purposely mislead us to fish for a couple of hours!” 

Jin gasps then nudges his friend. “Guk, I swear I’ll kill you.” 

Guk scoffs, returning the shove. He stands from his seat and attempts to tower over Jin, only to get a hand slice to the neck. A quick exchange of smacking hands breaks out between the two, the sleeping old man beside Yoongi suddenly wide awake. 

“Land one in the gut!” He shouts.

Yoongi winces at the volume. He mutters a curse under his breath before his annoyed gaze meets yours. You watch him for a beat, two, three, then blink your attention back to Jin and Guk. A wave of your hand separates them with a slide back. Frustration still rages in their gazes. Yoongi holds his breath, diverting his gaze to the floor. Recognizing rage in others often triggers his hybridity. The dragon tickles in his palms as thick, black talons replace his nails. Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes shifty, breath heavy. 

You bite your lip. Jin and Guk fall silent, their words cinching in their throats. “I don’t want to have to send Apolla to babysit you,” you sigh. The black cat purrs in hiccups, as if laughing. You let a smirk grace your lips, continuing, “This next batch needs to be delivered on time.” 

With a twirl of your finger, glass vials, now filled to the brim with multi-coloured herbs, float back into Guk’s bag. You, then, beckon the pouty men closer. They shuffle towards the counter. You tug two tiny crystal pendants from your charm bracelet and pin one on each of their sleeves. “These should help you stick to your path,” you mutter. “Soak them in saltwater once all the orders are complete.” 

Though they roll their eyes, both men nod in understanding. Guk offers an innocent smile, Jin a playful one, before turning to the door. Whatever spell you had over their voices seems to wear off by the time they exit. “Little punk,” are Jin’s final words. 

Yoongi’s hands clam with sweat as his talons retract under the cover of his pockets. He sighs heavily. Gaze shaking behind his short hair, he shifts in his seat. The old man’s snoring returns sinking in with the crackling fireplace seamlessly. Yoongi wishes he had this man’s freedom. The ability to fall in and out of sleep in a public place without fearing for his safety. Is it his identity or the shop that makes him feel this secure? 

“What can I get you?” 

He flinches. Meeting your curious gaze, he mutters, “Huckleberry lemon.” 

“Infused or blended?” 

Momentary panic flashes in his eyes. If you notice, you don’t make it known. “On ice.” 

The action is quiet, subtle, but Yoongi hears it clearly. Your breath hitches. You swallow thickly, looking him over once, twice, then ask, “On or in?”

“On.”

You wave a hand. The lights of the shop flicker out, candles taking their place. Yoongi shoots to his feet, talons and fangs returning. His temples suddenly ache where his horns should be. Oh yes, Yoongi remembers, Horns surface in defense too. Setting his jaw, he ignores whatever sentiment scratches at his throat and whips his gaze around the store, searching for the first attack. However, he merely finds the patrons preparing to leave. They seem all too familiar with the switch between electric to flame. A few of them even mutter curses under their breath. 

The old man stretches by Yoongi, to which he flinches. “Another rogue broomstick?” He asks you. 

“A mop,” you correct before tugging on your ear. A loud clattering boom sounds from the closest by the end of the counter. Yoongi jumps back, looking to you for an answer. You avoid his gaze. 

The customers bid you a goodnight. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. They swim with panic instead. Yoongi perks his ears towards you, instantly picking up the quick beat of your heart. It’s hammering, blood sprinting around its cycle within your veins. He glances down at your hands. Your nails have scratched their way to the edge of the wooden counter, knuckles tense as you grip onto it.

Once all the customers have left, you circle around the counter and ask, “Is Namjoon okay? What happened?”

Yoongi stumbles back, eager to create distance amongst you. “Yeah, he’s fine. He told me you’ll find me a place to stay.” 

“Where is he?”

“Seoul.”

You pause. Not a single breath dares escape you as you assess his word. Yoongi raises a brow. What exactly is your connection to Namjoon, he wonders. You went out of your way to find out as quickly as possible if anything was wrong. He licks his lips when realization finally colours your features. A bitter curse slips past your maroon lips. Without another word, you rush back around the counter and begin scribbling onto a loose piece of parchment. You roll it up once you’re done. “Apolla,” you call. The black cat leaps from counter top to top, landing by you effortlessly. You slip the note into her collar and whisper, “Make sure they read it and seriously consider it before leaving to the next, okay?” 

Apolla meows, rubs her head in your hand then jumps off the counter. Yoongi peers over the counter to see where she’s gone, but he can’t spot her anywhere in the candle lit darkness. 

“Do you have the note he gave you?” 

Yoongi snaps his attention back to you. Your back faces him again. He digs into his pocket and pulls out the tiny piece of parchment. You pluck it right out of his hand and roll it up with your own note then whistle a high melody. Distant hoots grow louder behind him. He looks to the door as it opens on its own accord. A black owl swoops into the shop. You tie the message to its left leg, offer the owl what looks like a rat tail, then send it off. The door shuts the moment it's gone, locks clicking. 

Finally turning to Yoongi, you tip your finger up and his hat falls to his back. Yoongi glares. Your sporadic writings and dismissals might have been interesting at first, but now he’s looking for answers. How is this witch supposed to help him? Namjoon promised he’d be safe here and, though the shop feels secure, you do not. 

“Agust Dragon,” you whisper.

Yoongi furrows his brows. His gaze shifts to the draped windows and locked doors. Who told you of his arrival? Perhaps this was a trap. Was it to see how far he could get, to have this entire little town witness his defeat? The cruelty of the king does not know restraint. If anyone was to lead him back to his mother’s village to further humiliate him, it would be the king. Yoongi rolls his shoulder back, inhaling deeply as his talons surface once more. Taking a step back, he asks, “How do you know that? He didn’t write that in the note.”

Your eyes glow with concern. Had Yoongi not been fixating on every change, he wouldn’t have caught the underlying tone of your gaze. It’s almost as if you’re questioning just how much he knows. You wave a hand at the radio. Through the speakers, a robotic voice informs, We interrupt your scheduled programming to alert a hybrid breach in Seoul. Agust Dragon has escaped royal captivity. All-

With another wave, it switches back off. “It goes on for a while about your scar too,” you add. 

Tremors of the taser used to detain him flash within his veins. The glint of that pearl sword blinds him with the haunting pain. Between those stone walls, he fully transformed. Had he known it would be the last time, he would’ve spread his wings wide, tipped his head to the sky and bellowed a cloud of fire. Within the smug, he’d inhale deeply and do it all over again. Perhaps he would’ve escaped then. Perhaps he would’ve endured more scars. At least, Yoongi thinks, I would still be a dragon.  

The clatter of dishes pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks his attention back to where you stood, only to find you mixing something in a black caludon. Jars of various contents hover around you, some peaking at the mixture over your shoulder. Yoongi watches you move further in the kitchen behind the counter like you’re floating yourself. Movements so swift, sharp, susintically enchanting, he can’t take his eyes off you no matter how hard he tries. Your power is an outlaw to nature yet looks so natural. Is it a charm of who you are or who you’ve become?

“I’m not sure what’s nourishing for a dragon,” you say over your shoulder. “I try to adjust the glamour to the hybrid. There isn’t much about dragons.”

“Yet.”

The speed of your gaze to his soul makes him shiver. You don’t regard him with hostility, but something much worse: curiosity. The very bane of his existence. Only, hints of concern cushion the blow of this realization. Yoongi can sense your intentions in the way you calculate your words. You explained what you’re working on without prompting. You ensure he knows you’re here to help by mentioning nutrients rather than sedatives. Yoogni may not know you, but he knows Namjoon well enough to know that if he trusts you enough with this information, then you might not be as big a threat as your curiosity is. 

You return to the counter with a red and gold patterned teapot. The colours swirl around a white base in slithering motions. Yoongi assumes it’s a simple meld of lines until he makes out the bold eyes of a dragon. Shooting you a glare, he asks, “Is this a joke?” 

The smirk on your face does not comfort his annoyance. Whether or not you recognize this, is hard for Yoongi to tell. There’s something painfully unreadable in your eyes. You never regard him with pity, even if he knows his face is bruised, clothes dirty and hair smells all too strong to ignore. Something else laces your looks that soothes and riles him all at once. 

“It’s charmed to reflect your greatest desire,” you explain. 

Yoongi pauses, looking down at the teapot again. The wings of the dragon flap then spread wide, like gliding over the winds. He blinks back his frustrations, reverting his attention to the flower painted cup in your hands. Regret pricks his heart, his conscious scolding his tongue for lashing out all too quickly. Just because he can’t completely trust you, doesn’t particularly mean you don’t have pure intentions regardless. 

He clears his throat and mutters, “Sorry.”

After pouring dark violet tea into the cup, Yoongi watches as you squeeze a bit of honey in. You shrug his apology off while giving the tea a good stir. Sliding the cup towards him, you tentatively search his gaze and ask, “So, what did you see?”

Yoongi ignores the question. He keeps his attention focused on the tea, bracing himself before that first, initial sip. The moment the spice soaked chia touches his lips, he is thrown into a euphoric tranquility. Notes of cinnamon, ginger, anise stars and peppercorn evade his senses. His body voluntarily melts into the warm comfort spreading within. And that little bit of honey you added, offers just the right amount of sweetness, and that’s not something Yoongi particularly cares for. 

It takes pulling the cup away from his mouth for him to realize he’d drank it all. Face warm, he glances up at you. He’d never really met a witch before, merely seen them around. He doesn’t remember his mother mentioning any in Daegu when she resided here. They seemed to flock around Ilsan, near the wooded mountains. It’s rather common knowledge that the closer they are to nature, the stronger they become. Their strength usually also manifests greaty in covens. So, why is this one alone? 

Wiping his mouth, Yoongi holds the cup out. He may not completely understand your motives, but that tea is too warm to turn down. You smile and refill it. He takes another sip, removing the cup from his face so as to not to chug it all at again. You pick up on his actions and quietly giggle to yourself. Yoongi bites back a smile. Maybe it’s the tea, but he finds something about your laugh that’s all too pleasing. It feels familiar, a little sentimental, and profoundly personal. 

“What’s your name?”

He raises a brow. Was Agust not enough for you? Or do you know that it isn’t who he really is? “How did you-”

“You look like the cautionary type,” you interrupt. “The type to bear his fangs and talons on the slight chance that danger is just around the corner. So, I would assume you didn’t tell whoever caught you your real name.” 

And he thought he hid that so well. You’re smarter than he expected you to be. Or perhaps, more accurately, you’re more perceptive than expected. The longer he remains in your presence, the more he realizes he has completely underestimated you. Originally, you were just some middle maiden, redirecting lost hybrids upon a knight’s command. Now, Yoongi is starting to wonder if perhaps you’re the one in command. However, if you can sway knights of the king, why wouldn’t you use that power for something greater than relocating refuge hybrids? Why not destroy the system all together? 

Either way, your potential summons a ghost of smirk to his lips. “And why should I tell you?” His tone is almost teasing, but simply because Yoongi is curious now. How much attention are you offering?

You rest elbows on the counter and lean on your chin in your hands while trying to hide a smile. “I’m (Y/N).”

In a reactive loop, he mentally repeats your name until it’s seared into his brain. His dragon hums in approval, like it was expecting it, expecting you. Yoongi presses on. “What’s the point of Nix then?”

“A coven name burns into your soul,” you whisper. “Much like a dragon does when born.”

“I thought you said you don’t know much about dragons.”

You smile, rolling your eyes like he’s the one being tested. Sitting up, you turn back to the kitchen and ask, “Have you eaten?”

Yoongi barely parts his lips before you cut in again and call over your shoulder, “Or would you rather get washed up first? Hmm, that might be best. Finish your tea and I’ll show you to the bath.”

A snap of your fingers and the kitchen comes alive. You shut the curtains into the back, but Yoongi makes out the charmed sponges and dishes being cleaned. The closest that clattered not to long ago, opens just enough for a broom and mop to waddle out. They rush to the back, the mop bumping into the broom. For a moment, the two nudge each other back and forth, until your echoing steps scare them into continuing on their path to the kitchen. They slip between the curtains. 

In near silence, Yoongi sits alone in the shop. The distant spray of the sink only just breaks the hearth’s crackling concentration. Every sip of tea settles the fuming dragon. It’s something about the spicy kick and earthy tones of mint - at least he thinks it’s mint. He wonders what gives it this violet colour. Is it the magic? Is it you?

It’s rather odd, now that he thinks about it. Three days of travel, of near survival only to find solstice in a cup of tea. Perhaps that’s the true magic you offer. A sense of peace is a sip away? Or maybe it’s the lack of concrete walls and iron chains. His mother would enjoy this tea. His father would look forward to the food. But Yoongi craves the steam of a bath, the warmth of a pillow. And the dragon within yearns for your presence. If Yoongi wasn’t so sunk in tranquility, he’d search for a reason. Alas, he cannot be bothered. 

“You ready?” 

The chime of your voice snaps his gaze away from the teapot. Yoongi glances down at his cup to find it empty again. Why can’t he every savour the taste? 

With a nod, he hops off the stool. “How far is it?”

You toss him a confused look. Nodding towards the right, you reply with a chuckle, “Just a couple of steps.”

The teapot and cup hop off the counter and into the kitchen as Yoongi watches you disappear down a hallway. You return with a half-smile, regarding him as if he’s the strange one, enchanting dishes and speaking in half-truths. 

“Well, come on!”

A sharp retort sits on the tip of his tongue. Yoongi swallows it before it can cause more damage than necessary. Orders don’t resonate too well with the dragon. It burns his throat with disobedience. There is a better way to do things: his way. He doesn’t particularly like being forced into another. Still, he follows in silence. 

You lead him to the tiny office that looks more disorganized than anything else. Layers of loose parchment and letters bury a mahogany desk. Dried wax, leaked from overused candles, splatters over every surface. Blankets atop a sapphire and opal patterned carpet lay in disarray. You bend over in front of him, his face reddening and eyes shooting to the ceiling, to find cobwebs and burned lights tangled around the beams. With a grunt, you flip up the carpet and a little hatch appears. A stomp, two, three and it clicks open. A dark staircase makes itself known. 

“After you,” you smile. 

Yoongi furrows his brows. Are you insane or simply numb to your own oddities? He’s having a hard time deciding when you flash him such an innocent smile. Glancing back at the dark staircase, even his dragon begins to question your sanity. “You want me to enter this basement first? The hidden, dark basement?”

It takes a moment but his point finally dawns on you. Brows shooting up, you let out a nervous giggle and decide to enter first. “It’s not a basement,” is all you offer as a means of comfort. Or at least that’s what he thinks you say. You’re about halfway down before saying anything at all, voice distant and echoing. 

Where else can he go, he wonders. It would be hard to find a hidden place after being spotted in the town. He doesn’t even know the terrain that well and there isn’t just some tree he can climb or cave to scurry into. You’re unfortunately his last hope for safety. Perhaps you just have a skewed version of it. Yoongi just hopes it's not as skewed as the king’s. 

Against his cautionary judgement, he descends. Each step beckons him closer to warmth, a reality he wasn’t expecting. An orange hue dances against the stone walls as he reaches the last few steps of the spiral staircase. 

You’re right. Again. It’s not at all a basement, but a home. Yoongi inherits the serenity, familiarity and security the moment he arrives. Book shelves galore, candles a plenty and belevenance at every glance. You move around the living room with a pillow and a stack of blankets. Dropping by the foot of the emerald couch, your attention falls back to Yoongi. In his dirty clothes and unwashed hair, he feels so out of place from the purity your home radiates. 

“The bathroom is just down that hall,” you say, pointing to one of five hallways on the right side. 

You’re odd. Yoongi didn’t think that would be something he’d respond to. He nods as a thanks, ignoring the way your generosity strokes his heart. Perhaps, he wonders while shuffling down the hall, humans are wretched. And witches, the so-called horrors of horror, are benignant. Or, it could just be that you are. Either way, Yoongi has witnessed something tonight that he hadn’t in a long time. Acceptance. 

He spares you one last glance, hand hovering over the brass doorknob. You’re holding a wand and attempting to transform the couch into a bed. The dragon reminds him that you don’t know him, where he comes from, how long he’d traveled, or what he’d done to be chained. All you know is a friend sent him here and his hybridity makes him undesirable. Such a luxury, the dragon whispers, to trust and be trusted. 

Agust doesn’t like to talk about himself. You learned this quickly. After the first night, you tried to pry again. Who else escaped? How long had he known Namjoon? Any chance he’ll be offering that name now? But, he won’t budge. Sometimes, when he’s tired of all your questions, he’d walk away. The excuse is usually that he’s looking for a book, but you haven’t seen him pick up anything besides an anthology of flight. You decided to give up all together, not daring to ask the real question on your mind, like how he got that scar. 

Other times, however, he’ll turn the questions onto you. Maintaining eye contact, he’d listen to each answer and engage in a little conversation about each point. Three weeks have elapsed, and you still have yet to decide if this is part of his diverting tactic or if he’s genuinely interested. In both cases, it’s good to know that he’s willing to have a conversation about something. 

It’s also reassuring to find that he’s adapted to your routine seamlessly. He mentioned something about wanting to help out around the shop his third morning in Daegu. The look on his face was too precious to deny. Curious, unsure, tentative, he muttered the question like it meant everything and nothing to him all at once. You were wondering if he knew that Apolla still hadn’t returned with news then, but now you’re sure. He glances at her food bowl every morning, as if looking for signs of her presence. 

Three weeks is the longest she’d ever looked for a safehouse. You expected that not many people would want to harbour a known fugitive, but hoped that someone would. Most hosts recognize the danger of associating with a hybrid. The consequences are the same - execution. Perhaps risks run higher when a face is attached to a name and continuously circling the news. 

Your greatest regret, however, is how relieved you are that he won’t be leaving. Sure, Agust is stand-offish and too blunt at times, but there’s just something about him that reels you in. The rasp of his voice, the indifferent wonder in his eyes, how he walks like he rather be flying is endearing. He almost floats with determined desolation, like he digs the very hole he’s in to get out. The deeper he is, the stronger he becomes. You’re not sure if you find that admirable, but it’s something merely Agust-esque. 

He leans on the counter now, reading that same anthology again. You’re sure this is his fourth time through it. He still soaks in every word and takes his time with each page. A customer approaches the counter with a bright smile. You stop cleaning one of the tables to watch Agust deliberately ignore him. Being a dragon, he can sense when someone is near and how they might be feeling.You know this from the stories your coven would trade. Dragons, being a rarity, are something like gods to witches; you haven’t really met one before Agust. 

“Good evening,” the customer greets. He hops onto one of the stools as Agust ignores him. His smile wavers. “S-sir?”

“Shh.”

The customer blinks. He looks around as if wondering if he’d really just been shushed. “I would-”

“Shh.” 

You sigh, muttering a quiet plea to the gods under your breath. Then, you catch it, the smirk plaything on Agust’s lips. It’s so tiny, hidden behind an annoyed persona, that if you hadn't been paying such close attention you would’ve missed it. He’s not ignoring the customer to gain a reaction out of them, but out of you. And for some odd reason, that makes your heart skip a beat. 

Agust flips the page then finally acknowledges the customer. An amused look holds his features as the customer stutters their order. “Orange basil?” He questions, hints of disgust drenched in his tone. Before the man can part his lips to reply, Agust sighs and shrugs. He looks at you, and raises a brow. It’s rather teasing, silently asking why you’re staring. 

After wiping your hands, you carry the tray of teacups and little teapots back to the counter. The magic takes over once you stand by Agust. He follows your every movement, eyes lingering on the sway of your hips for a few seconds too long. 

“Jimin,” you greet, ignoring Agust like he had done to the customer. 

He picks up on your actions quickly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Suck up,” he whispers. 

“Is he supposed to be behind the counter?” Jimin asks. He avoids Agust’s gaze, knowing his question would earn him a glare. 

“Not with an attitude,” you reply with a bright smile. 

Agust rolls his eyes, prepared to chuckle until he hears Jimin laugh. He sighs as if the daily customer is intruding. Within seconds, his interest in the conversation falls. That cursed anthology consumes his attention all over again. 

You mask your disappointment with business, turning to the kitchen. The caldron already heard the order and began it’s brew just as you have enchanted it to do. Agust knows this. He’s watched you recharm the pots every morning. And every time you run back here, you know he notices. Sometimes you can feel his eyes following you when you walk away from him. There’s a faint pull in his gaze, like he’s pleading for your return to his side. At times, you find yourself longing after him too when he’s in such close but distant proximity. 

A quiet hoot shatters all your thoughts. You rush back to the counter in time to find the door burst open and Grako swoon in. Agust already had his gaze locked on the glass, his inner dragon probably having picked up the thumping flaps of feather in the wind. 

Some customers gasp and duck agains their tables. You ignore their confused stares, knowing they’ll chalk this up to one of your strange quirks. Grako lands on the counter, scaring Jimin enough to make him jump out of his seat. Agust enjoys the sight a little too much. 

“Can you get the seeds by the sink for me?” You ask Agust, hoping to grant Jimin a moment without ridicule. Without a word, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

You fight every instinct to follow after his frame and focus on the owl. Searching for Namjoon’s reply, your heart sinks when you don’t find parchment on the left leg. Your message looks untouched on the right. Untying the string holding it together, you unroll the parchment to find the unchanged message. 

Agust sets the sealed bag of seeds on the counter. Grako turns to face him. You do your best to suppress a shaky sigh, but Agust hears it anyways. He ignores the owl eyeballing him and shifts closer to you. The action surprises you enough to distract from your worries. Agust never cared for less distance. Yet, he stands close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He mutters.

Though you want to tell him, you know now is not at all the right time. One too many pairs of eyes lock on you, various ears perking in your direction. You force a smile and shake your head. “Nothing at all,” you reply in the steadiest voice you can muster. 

He nods. He doesn’t believe it, but nods. “How often do your charms work?” 

You raise a brow. “Often.”

“So are the sponges supposed to wring sink water all over the floor?”

Agust is clever. You never doubted this. He’s perspicacious, calculating and above all downright angelic. However, you try not to let that last detail overtake you too much. It’s just that pierced lip and dark tattoo peeking from under his tunic stun you from time to time. The messy hair, undercut and dark, and that scar that lure you more than they should. It’s all too pure to be so rough, much like his personality. 

No, wait, you’ve gotten ahead of yourself again. Agust is clever - yes. He knows just how to get his way with you every time. Anything he wants, you usually offer. His reference of rogue cleaning supplies is just one example of his advantageous perception. Tugging on your ear, you sent the sponges acraze around the kitchen. A cacophony of broken dishes and spilled cauldrons echo throughout the shop. You wonder if you tugged too hard or perhaps used a stronger spell than intended. Did you even recharm the sponges or the entire kitchen? 

All conversation halts to the loud mess transpiring behind the curtain. Agust nudges your elbow, reminding you of the switch to flames when enchantments “malfunction.” You mutter a quiet, oh then wave a trembling hand to the ceiling. The lights flicker a few times before the half-hearted spell finally works. 

“But-” Jimin tries to say only to have Agust hush him again with a finger upon his lips. Jimin sighs, following the rest of the customers out. 

Agust waits for the doors to lock before fully facing you. “So?”

You’re not sure what Agust’s relationship was with Namjoon. You always assumed it was closer enough to trust, but how close is that for Agust? Did Namjoon know his real name? The last thing you want to do is sadden him with your assumptions about your best friend’s silence. However, as you part your lips to lie, you find you are simply incapable of the action when it comes to Agust. It’s not just that he will automatically catch on, but that the act itself dries your mouth. It would feel awkward to lie, perhaps even disgusting. 

“He didn’t reply.”

“It’s been gone for a month.”

“I know.”

He searches your eyes. Fingertips hovering near yours, he inhales half a breath. “Maybe he went back to Ilsan?”

Namjoon told him about Ilsan? Your heart festers with jealousy, regrettably towards Namjoon. If Agust knows of Ilsan, then Namjoon must know his real name. The fact that you didn't mention a name at all in your note might have tipped him against replying. You know Namjoon well enough to know he would take the safest option. Is that where Agust picked up his cautionary habit? No, you mustn’t entertain this petty frustration. So what if Namjoon is closer to Agust than you are? They probably spent more time together too. Another wave of annoyance attacks your chest. That possibility seems to irk you more than soothe you as it was meant to.

Sliding the piece of parchment and a pen towards him, you mutter, “Write your name. The one he’d know.” 

Agust pauses. You don’t spare him a second glance. It’s childish, you know, but you can't help but be a bit peeved with him. Your mind is actively reminding you that Agust and Namjoon are their own people and do not need to have a smaller relationship than you and Agust do. Your heart can’t shut up about it though. It invades your thoughts with questions that attack your insecurities. Have you been too nice? Too mean? Too lazy with your magic or too powerful? Is he intimidated or simply more comfortable around men than he is around women? Feeding Grako from the seeds in your palm, you clench your jaw and attempt to purge these thoughts from your mind. 

Doubt is poisonous. You wish you had an anecdote for this sort of suffering. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, he doesn’t believe you’re really here,” you all but snap. “So either scribble the stupid name or let him die.” 

Your drama makes you cringe. Being too aware of your stupidity in the moment might just be the very worse detail about this cursed conversation. 

Agust scoffs. Inching closer, he towers over you. Jaw set, eyes dark with amber rage, he whispers, “You’ll refrain from using such a tone with me if you know what’s good for you.” His calloused fingers trace the outline of your face, as he continues, “I don’t want to warn you again.”

You shudder against his frame. Gulping, you muster whatever courage you have left and mutter, “You’ll refrain from using such threats with me.” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently, letting your magic tickle his bloodstream. He shivers as those black talons reappear. You feel their impression against your wrist. “If you know what’s good for you,” you finish. 

Agust waits, watches. Adam’s apple bobbing, he nods once. His attention returns to the parchment. He scratches his name, blows it dry, then rolls it up like you had weeks ago. You tie the note to the right leg again. You hope your assumption is correct as you secure the knot. After tossing Grako a rat tail, to which he effortlessly catches, you send him off again. This time he is Ilsan bound. 

“Who is Namjoon to you?” Agust asks once the doors lock shut again. 

You wave a hand to the kitchen to fix whatever disarray you accidentally set it to then answer the question with one of your own. “Who are you to him?”

“A friend.” 

You weren’t really expecting an answer. He usually sulks when you toss a question back at him. So, you begin to wonder, why did he answer this one? What is so important about your answer this time? 

“A best friend,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes. “Does getting on my nerves fascinate you?” 

You shrug. “Usually.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I did.”

He sighs and you mock it, earning a pointed look. “Did you meet in Ilsan?”

“Yeah. We grew up together,” you answer. Though you love to tease him, you can never keep it up for too long. You always end up giving into him at some point. “We were neighbours. The coven didn’t really like him lurking around me though.” 

“Was this his idea?”

You raise a brow. “I thought you were friends?”

“You’re enchanting,” he suddenly blurts. 

When your face falls in shock, his cheeks heat up. His words seem as though they are registering for the first time. How enchanting are you exactly?

“What I mean is,” he tries again. “You have the tendency to get your way from anyone you’d like. Jin and Guk have made all glamour deliveries on time, Namjoon rounds up hybrids for you to relocate all over the kingdom, and you recruit every animal you find.” 

“Not every animal,” you playfully pout. “Just the useful ones.”

Agust rolls his eyes. Accepting defeat, he shuts his book and tucks it under his arm. For a second, you think he’s about to say something. But, he merely licks his lips and avoids your gaze. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s upset with you. 

Later, during dinner, you start to believe your assumptions. Agust seems to focus on everything but you. The beef stew, garlic buns, kimchi, ginseng tea, even pulling out that stupid book again. Never has he opened those pages at the table, always offering you at least sliver of attention. Maybe you have no right for feeling this way, but his disregard for you twinges your pride. 

“Is there a reason you’re staring?”

And that tone. You’ve grown rather sick of it, frankly. He sulks around the house, around the shop and grumbles half-hearted insults. Though you know they’re usually playful, you can’t ignore the festing frustration in your chest.

His eyes gleam with the dragon within. “We both know I can sense your anger.” 

“Shut the book.”

“No.”

You raise a brow, silently suggesting a possible source to your anger.  Agust shuts the book. 

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” you sarcastically smile. 

He stares for a moment then shakes his head. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry,” he says while picking up his plate. 

You charm it right out of his hands as he stands from his seat. He glares. You return it. When he reaches for his cup, you wave a hand at it as well. Both dishes hover to the sink. The game carries on until all the dishes float back to the kitchen. You toss a mocking smirk and ask, “Enough flying for you?”

“What do you have against flying?” 

It has your attention. “Nothing.” 

“You’re a terrible liar. How you’ve gotten away with all this hybrid hiding all these ears is beyond me.”

You quirk your head to the side. So he knows this operation has been years in the making. Then what was all that questioning about? 

“If you have something to say, then say it,” he baits after taking his seat. He almost sounds like he doesn’t think you will. He should know you better by now. 

You stand up and circle the table. Leaning against the edge, towering over him, you cross your arms under your chest and disregard all filters. “How did you escape?” 

He scoffs. “Namjoon helped me.”

“Yes, but how?”

A certain darkness falls over his features. He gulps before letting out a shaky sigh. “He was guarding my quarters. We spoke often.” Then he falls silent, eyes reverting to the floor. A moment elapses, two, three, by the fifth he takes another deep breath. “My last night was hard. He told me that he was working on permanent relaction in Ilsan. Something about how the mountains are safest. But after that night, I don’t think he was willing to wait for the right moment anymore.” 

So, that’s how he knew of Ilsan. Shame settles over you in heavy waves. You avoid his eye in regret. Even after that, you know you shouldn’t pry. But you continue to ask anyways. “What happened?”

He glances at the anthology. “They took my horns,” he mutters so indifferently you think it’s a joke. Still, you don’t dare laugh. Not when his face is riddled with embarrassment and disgrace. 

“Then, I was forced into a full transformation,” he continues. “And clipped.”

You gasp. He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Don’t be so dramatic, (Y/N).”

How can he be so lighthearted? No- you mustn’t question his ways of coping. Regret engulfs you as you look to the stupid book again. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so pushy about it. You’ve heard rumors in the coven, about clipped dragons. You just didn’t think anyone would ever succumb to such cruelty. 

“I won’t tell you things if you’re just gonna cry about it,” he grumbles. 

You’re crying? Rubbing your hands against your cheeks, you’re surprised to find them wet. “Sorry,” you chuckle. “I just can’t believe they really-” 

“So this wasn’t your idea then?”

Shifting closer to him, you wipe away all your tears and shake your head. “Namjoon found me the day I opened. I told him in a letter that I’ve borrowed a home under the shop. A couple of hobbits told me about it on the train from Ilsan.” 

His hand slips into yours, stunting your explanation for a moment. You gaze down at them, finding the warmth all too welcoming to vocalize any curiosities. His thumb brushes against your knuckles, as if attempting to soothe your worries. 

“Is that how you relocate us? Through tunnels?” 

You nod. “He’s a knight of the people. Just like he vowed to be.” 

Agust sighs. He stops the smoothing touches and redirects his eyes to the floor. “I’m Yoongi,” he whispers, then quickly changes the subject before you’re able to comment on it. “My mother is from Daegu. I thought I’d find her here even though I know where she’s buried.” 

Yoongi. How precious. You repeat the name over and over again until it seers into your brain. A sudden tug to get close gnaws at your heart. A part of you wants to sit in his lap, but another is trying desperately to convince you how bad of an idea that is. The fact of the matter is, though you appreciate the honesty, you can’t help but wonder why he’s telling you all this. After a little over a month of half-sentences and playful teasing at most, he’s suddenly willing to spill all this out to you? It doesn’t make much sense to you, but you’re too afraid to ask. The last thing you’d want to do is downplay his honesty for something material. 

Alas, it seems like you don’t have to ask though. Yoongi already knows. 

“I want to tell you I don’t know. But, I think you might be the first person in a very long time to not care.” When you furrow your brows in confusion, he lightly chuckles and clarifies, “You are clever enough to know my name is not dragon, despite popular belief, and couldn’t care less that I am one. I’m just Yoongi to you, even if you didn’t know it.” 

You cannot deny the allure of him anymore. Hearing him speak of you like this, like you’re the only thing that matters, does more to you than you’re willing to admit. You press your thighs together before slipping into his lap. He wraps an arm around your waist like he’d been expecting this. Yours dangle off his shoulders like you’d been made for this. 

He looks so painfully holy up close, like a fallen god. The scar through his eye crushes your guts with anger. He’d seen so many horrors, perhaps even endured most of it. You know it is not because of the dragon. The determination in his gaze, the desire to survive roots further down than any mythical side of him can touch. Yoongi made it this far because he wanted to. And what do all his efforts leave him with… clipped wings and horns? You can’t sit back and watch him pour himself into this anthology another second. It’s clear he misses his wings, even his horns. 

“Yoongi,” you start, mind sifting through memories of dragon lore. “I think I can bring your wings back.”

He falls silent. A breath doesn’t even dare escape him. “You keep telling me you don’t know much about dragons.”

“I don’t have any physical books about them or dragon hybrids for that matter, but most covens revere dragons. The greatest stories among us are about how magical you are. A piece of you in any potion heightens the effects tenfold,” you explain. 

“So what? You just so happen to have a spell to sprout wings?” 

He’s mocking as a defense. You know this though it still doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes. “Not exactly. Reproduction spells are tricky. They don’t require the typical notions of a dragon that any other spell might. They tend to be a bit more…” you trail off, eyes dancing all around the room just to stay off him. Shifting on his lap, you suddenly find it all too awkward to be seated here. 

“More..?” 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have brought this up. “Intimate.”

You expected to hear him retch in disgust, or maybe even cringe. At the very least, you expected his face to fall. Never did you think it would light up, no matter how badly you hoped it would. 

“Intimate?” He repeats. “How exactly does that work?” You’re about to answer when he adds, “Show me.” 

Heart fluttering, you swallow thickly. Your guts churns with desire, core drenched in desperation as he continues to regard you with cocky indifference. Is he joking? Testing you? You pray to any god listening that he’s serious. 

“We should probably fire the caldron first,” you whisper. “The base needs to brew for a while.” 

Yoongi nods. “I’ll make sure to give it enough time.” He attempts to hide his smile. You push yourself off his lap and try to ignore how needy you become from a few simple words. You can feel him watching. Body shaking, you’re not sure if you're bursting with excitement or simply anxious. Yoongi seems to have made you feel both throughout his stay here. 

Deep breath in, and you bring both hands up to light the fireplace. The charmed calderon fills to life. Rosewater to start; sweet thyme, cloves, wolfsbane, knotgrass and a hint of ginger to brew. Yoongi makes his way towards you, silently watching all the ingredients pour into the black pot. 

“When is it my turn?” 

Skin ablaze, you bit your lip to hold back a moan. “The witch’s essence needs to be added too,” you mutter all too quietly. 

He hears it anyways. “Even better.” 

Your nerves are all he can sense. The smirk on his face tells you that much. He’s playing because he knows he can. He knows he’ll get away with it and there isn’t much you can do about that. Unless… there is?

He did ask you to show him how the intimacy would work. You start to unlace your dress, biting back a giggle when his breath hitches. Did he think you wouldn’t do it? 

Over and off, goes your dress. In a soft thump, it lands on the wooden floors. Yoongi sighs, eyes shamelessly roaming over your naked body, fixating on every dip of your curves. His balls his hands and makes it a point to keep them by his side. The shift in power makes you giddier than it should. 

Raising a brow, you ask, “I thought you wanted to see how it’s done?”

Yoongi chuckles. He licks his lips, looking off to the side for a moment then pulls his shirt off. The symbol of Min inks in arm like a sleeve. A royal dragon. The abuse makes all too much sense now. Not that it has ever been out of place for the king to do such a thing. He thumbs your chin, gently asking to meet his gaze. 

“Do you still want to restore my wings?” He asks, like his status could ever change that. 

You decide to show him how badly you do on your knees. Hands fiddling with his zipper, you undo his pants and let his massive cock smack your face. Yoongi gasps a moan; your pussy clenches with need. How dare he make such a sound so effortlessly? You just might cum from his voice alone, if he keeps this up. And who told him it was okay to be this thick? He’s so heavy against your cheek, pointing at the soft flesh like it belongs to him. 

His eyes gleam, lips stretch into a smug smirk. Well, don’t you? He seems to be silently asking. 

Mouth open, you carve a taste. Is dragon cum as sweet as everyone says? Tongue over slit, and you can confirm that it is. Your eyes roll back and whines escape like it’s your first time. It’s just one taste but you can’t hold yourself back. Spitting over his cock, you pump him a couple of times then shove him down your throat. 

Yoongi groans. His fingers tangle in your hair. At first, they move in gentle motions. The gesture is enough to tell you not to strain yourself. But then you make the mistake of swallowing around him. Your throat tightens all too deliciously for him to merely watch. Like a switch, Yoongi unbounds himself. His nails dig into your scalp, and hips snap forward. 

You gag. And he loves it. Every wet, choked sound struggling to keep up fuels the force of his thrusts. He loses himself all too quickly to even realize that he’s suffocating you. Hands against his thighs, you have to pat him a few times before he returns to his senses. 

In an instant, his hands are by his side again as he pulls out. You let his cock rest on your tongue as you pant. Through your blurred vision, you can only just make out his concerned gaze. “Sorry, princess,” he hisses. 

As if you thought that honey-thick voice couldn’t get any raspier, he goes and calls you his princess. A loud moan leaves you all too quickly. No one has ever dwelled on you like that. Is his objective to ruin you before the spell casts? 

While brushing your hair back, he chuckles down at you. Your soul fills with the undeniable desire to please this man beyond comprehension. You want to hear him whisper how tight you are, tell you how well you’re doing. Until pride glows every inch of your heart, you will not stop choking on his giant cock. 

You take him all at once, again. Throat burning, a part of your regrets not working yourself up to committing to all of him. Back and forth, you bob your head on his dick. So big, he barely even fits. Every new thrust means squeezing himself through all over again. It beckons tears to your eyes and strains your jaw. You’re aching, but he’s twitching.

Face scrunched in pleasure, Yoongi throws his head back. “Just a little more, princess,” he hisses. Pulling in deep, he keeps your head still against his pelvis and whispers, “Hold it there. Just stay- fuck, do it again for Daddy, princess.” 

Anything for daddy, you wish you would scream. You force yourself to swallow twice more than he asked for, risking a gag too big to ignore. Through gritted teeth, he roars like a dragon in heat and unloads himself in your mouth. Most of it slides down just from how deep he’d reached, but the rest spills out from the corner of your lips. 

He doesn’t care. Pulling out, he continues to pump himself at the sight of you. Hair disheveled, cheeks stained with tears and mouth smeared with cum, are you really this big a whore? Or is it all just for him?

You’re granted a moment to catch your breath, watching him watch you with newfound wonder. Vein laced hand, inked and sticky with his own cum, Yoongi pulls you back up to your feet by your neck. He pats your hair down, wipes your lips, then presses a tender kiss upon them.

It’s now that you notice he has always smelt like charred oak, musky and smokey. Everything about him sets you aflame, And though, your lips are on fire from the taste of his, the cold edge of his piercing cools you enough to miss the heat. You moan and drape your arms around his neck like this is some innocent kiss and his erection isn’t poking at your belly. 

“Is there any particular way I gotta fuck you, princess?” He questions between sloppy kisses. 

You force yourself off him long enough to answer, “Hold me over the pot. We have to cum together for it to work.” 

He smiles, jerks his head back when you try to kiss him again. A twinge of embarrassment strikes your heart before he turns you around and softly trails kisses up and down your neck. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs into your skin, rough hands kneading your ass. “Fuck, I knew you had an ass but this is fucking insane.” 

A smack follows his praise. You cry out his name. He spanks you harder. “You know that’s not what you’re supposed to call me right now.” 

You giggle through an erotic moan. He doesn’t like the sound of that. With one hand tight on your neck and the other wrapped around your waist to hold you in place, Yoongi kicks your feet and spreads your legs. Gliding his girth between your folds, he hisses against your ear, “You’ll learn to behave yourself from now on, princess.” 

You want to tell him it was never your intention to disrespect him. However, the slow, deliberate punishment he inflicts melts you into him in silence. All you can bring yourself to whine is, “Whatever you want, daddy.” 

“Mmm, that’s right. That’s my perfect princess,” he whispers. Then, he sucks in a sharp breath with you and plunges himself in your tight cunt. You knew he wouldn’t fit probably in your mouth, but you thought that your pussy, sopping for attention oh so desperately, would easily accept him. It’s your fault for underestimating such a massive cock. His tip doesn’t even fit. Yoongi takes to bending you over for a smoother entrance. 

“So huge!” You cry only to have him chuckle behind you. Vibrations of his laugh tickle your spine.

Once he finally pushes his way through, breathless moans and groans filling the space between, he gives you some time to adjust. It;s thoughtful of him, but you both know no amount of time will ever get you used to his godly size. 

“Please just ruin me, daddy,” you beg, through a broken whine. 

“What was that, princess?”

“Please, please just fuck me!”

Tightening his grip on both your neck and waist, he rapsys a dark laugh against the shell of your ear. You shudder, thinking you might just cum now until he starts to ram you. You jerk forward each time despite his hold on you. His hips always overpower everything else. Rough smacks of skin on skin drown your voice until it’s completely gone. You cannot even bring yourself to properly breathe. He’s a beast. Huffing your name, clenching his jaw and sinking his balls into you, Min Yoongi makes it his mission to destroy you. 

“Pretty, pretty little girl,” he hisses. “My pretty princess.” Grinding his hips against your ass, cock swilling the mess he’s making of your pussy, he suddenly breathes, “I wanna make you my queen.” 

Leaning back into him, you find just enough strength to muster the first words that come to mind. “I’m gonna hold you to that, daddy.” 

He moans, softening his hold to shower your face with gentle kisses. A reflection of comfort and familiarity glow in his eyes when he pulls away. His hands slide down to your thighs. He bends a little to hosite you up against  him. With your legs spread, he holds you over the calderon and picks up that wickedly rough pace again. You place your hands over his and let him ravish in you. 

Slouching, your pussy tights with every new thrust. Doses of you are already dripping into the brew as it boils. Yoongi curses. You thought you felt him twitching a few minutes ago but now you’re sure. In fact, you can even see it. He’s so big an imprint of his cock bulges from your stomach. You watch it twitch again as he shoves his balls deeper into you. 

Just witnessing it, triggers your orgasm. You try to hold it off long enough to let him know, only to have Yoongi barks, “Fucking cum!” 

You’ve never been one to deny him anything. Convulsing, you let your orgasm run free through you. Yoongi digs his fingers into your thick thighs to keep you steady, all while continuing to ruin you. It seems as though cumming spurs him on to further plough into you. He moves with harsher force and speed than he did when he was annoyed. 

He mutters something else in your ear, but you can’t make anything out. Your ears ring, vision blurs and you tremble all over. Toes curled and pointed to the sky, you cry out his name. And, as he pulls out of you to let out leak your mixed cum into the potion, you whisper the spell under your breath thrice. 

“Kiss me,” you whine. “Quick.” 

Though lacking his title, he doesn’t argue. Lips on lips, you drip out your love and seal the spell. 

The cackles of the potion break your kiss. Yoongi sets you back down to your feet then steps away from the heat. You lean back into him, watching the calderon overflow with steam and gleam green. 

He pecks your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist. “So, there really is a potion,” he chuckles quietly to himself. 

“What do you mean? Why would I lie about something like that?”

Yoongi shrugs. You push your ass back against him, teasingly. He tightens his hold with a playful smirk. “I just thought you wanted me.” 

“I do,” you whisper without much thought. 

A relieved smile, gummy and too cute to resemble anything you just did, stretches upon his lip. You peck his chin to which he blushes. Min Yoongi blushing is not a sight you were prepared to see, erupting your heart all too easily. 

“Never speak of this,” he tries to grumble indifferently, but that smile is still playing on his lips. When you go to tease him again, he says, “Will this even work?” 

You shrug. “Only one way to find out.” Enchanting a cup, you snap your fingers to beckon towards you. You fill it to the brim with the potion then hand it to Yoongi. 

He hovers the rim against his lips. Lost in thought or deliberation, you’re not sure. All you can tell is that it seems as though time has frozen for him. 

“Yoong-”

“I don’t want wings,” he sighs. You blink back at him. He takes a breath before adding, “Not now, anyways.”

You look back to the pot, wondering if the entire thing might have been a mistake. He drops the cup into it without much care for the brew that spills and cups your face. “I don’t want wings tonight. I want you.” 

“I’m right here?”

“I remember a little about what it was like to fly. Being with you reminds me of that,” he whispers. 

Tear prick your eyes, disbelief holding your voice hostage. “Me?” You croak, in confusion. “Yoongi, I-”

He holds you closer and suddenly all your words die in your mouth. You’re not even sure what you were trying to say. Pressing his forehead against yours, he mutters your name like a prayer and whispers, “You’re all the wings I need.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#bangtanfairygarden #networkbangtan #hyunglinenetwork #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #btsguild #btsgoldnet #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #houseofddaeng #magicshopnet #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts fanfic #bts smut

[ttttaehyungie]

home; bday | kth x reader

home; bday | kim taehyung x reader

genre | CEO!taehyung, dad!taehyung, established relationship, fluff summary | Feelings of home can be found anywhere, he often tells himself. But there’s really only one home. rating | PG13 word count | 1.5k words warnings | none a/n | bcos our taehyungie deserves the softest, warmest, loveliest birthday ever 😌🌻

There’s many things that feel like home to Taehyung. The creases between rumpled sheets, the gentle warmth of the rays of the afternoon sun, even the way all hotel bathrooms seem to look the same till they all blend into a monolith of shiny mirrors and cool marble top counters.

Frequent travel was to be expected with his job, given his position as the CEO. It had taken some getting used to at first, but by now he's well adjusted to the hustle and bustle of airports and the flurry that accompanies cumulatively spending a good quarter of his year living out of a suitcase. The sights and smells and entirely different cultures packed into the numerous cities he’s had to visit no longer daunts him. Not when he began to find little things that always remained the same. Home could be found stashed away in little pockets of the universe, like in the consistent offering of scrambled eggs at hotel breakfast buffets all over the world. Comfort could always be found in even the tiniest of things.

But not today.

Today, the tie around his neck – a blue tie with the signature Gucci snake that he’s normally excited to wear – is mildly suffocating, the stiff collar of his button-down like the looming threat of a chokehold. Sat at the meeting room table as someone drones on, he stares through the immaculately spotless glass of the table to watch his feet as they tap anxiously in his glossy black dress shoes. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a little voice chides him for not paying attention. The presentation is for him after all. But the meeting has spilled fifteen minutes overtime now and it doesn’t seem to be coming to an end any time soon.

Normally, he doesn’t mind. Normally, he recognizes the amount of time and labour that goes into each presentation, and would love to honour that by giving his employees his fullest attention. Normally, he’s anticipating hearing the innovative ideas that they’ve curated for him, more than eager to discuss them and offer his own insights.

But this isn’t a normal day. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have scheduled a midday flight on the day of an important meeting, wouldn’t be checking for the time every two minutes, and most definitely would not do what he’s about to do.

Raising a hand, his velvety baritone cuts across the presenter’s rushed monologue, “I’m really sorry. I know it’s really rude of me to do this, but is it possible for us to wrap this up in the next five minutes?”

“Ah,” the presenter stutters, fiddling with the cuffs of his pressed shirt nervously, “I, um, I have one more component to share on. Just one, and it’s the crucial centrepiece to this idea.”

“Will you be able to cover it in five minutes?” Taehyung asks, skimming through the printout of the deck he’d been given at the start of the meeting.

“Ah, um, no, but-”

Taehyung nods, and returns his gaze to the presenter, all fidgety from being caught off-guard. In his periphery, he watches as a figure saunters down the corridor towards the glass door of their meeting room, the unhurried yet purposeful footsteps so distinctly Stella. Perfect. Right on cue as she always is.

Three knocks sound on the door quietly but confidently. The door swings open and the executive assistant pops her head in, winged eyeliner and red lipstick flawless. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, addressing the room. Then, she turns to him. “Mr. Kim, your flight timing is steadily approaching and you need to leave very soon. Would you like me to call the driver now?”

“Dependable as ever, Stella,” he says with a smile. “That would be most ideal. This meeting will conclude in three minutes, yes?”

His question is met with docile nods and murmurs of agreement. No one can fight the CEO’s word after all, no matter how benevolent and understanding he normally is.

“Alright, thank you everyone for your time and your effort,” he says, gathering his handouts and slotting the folder into the sleek leather of his hand-carry. He stands, dusting himself off and collecting his belongings. “Not just for this morning’s meeting, but for all that went into the preparation for it as well. I know that we weren’t able to complete our agenda for today, but I will look over the deck in my own time and we can take this conversation online over the next few days.”

From there, it’s a mad rush to the car, hastily swapping his blazer and tie for a plaid trench coat and scarf to combat the winter chill. Stella aids in rolling his luggage across the polished floors of the office, the sharp clacking of her stilettos accenting against the steady thrum of the luggage wheels.

When the luggage’s hauled into the boot of the car, and Taehyung’s strapped in, ready to leave, Stella pauses with a hand on the open door.

“Have a safe flight home, Mr. Kim,” she says, then flashes a tiny smile. “And happy birthday.”

Taehyung laughs. Of course Stella would know. No detail is too small that it would escape her eagle-eyed attention.

“Thank you, Stella.”

“Ok, now go before you miss your plane.”

The car zips off and carries him closer to the only thing that’s been on his mind all day.

It’s a one hour ride to the airport and then a flurry of check-ins and security clearances and then it’s the bit that he hates the most – waiting. The emptiness in waiting – for boarding to begin, for the plane to take off, for the flight to end and the plane to land and the worst by far is waiting in line for the passengers to clear out – it’s agonizing to him. Nothing, not even the clogged ears from the altitude changes, can compare to this awful feeling of having to rush to wait and wait to rush. Especially when it’s compounded with the building anticipation that accompanies the closing of the distance between him and what he really wants.

And so when the cab finally pulls up on the street he loves the most out of all the thousands of streets his work has taken him to see, his heart leaps and he can’t help the grin that spread across his face. The white orbs of the streetlamps cast the shoveled snow on the sidewalk into a luminescent glow amidst the nighttime darkness. Climbing the steps to the front door carefully – how anticlimactic would it be if he were to slip and fall here after the long journey he’s taken to finally now be at the cusp of arriving at his destination – he unlocks the door and crosses the threshold, his footsteps slow and heavy and breaking the sleepy silence that’s blanketed itself like the snow atop the roof of the house.

Shrugging off his winter wear, he hears light footsteps pad their way towards him.

“Daddy?” a sleep-addled and tiny voice calls out.

“It’s me,” he replies softly. “Daddy’s back.”

His daughter gasps and the little footsteps quicken as they run off, and he follows after his 4-year-old into the living room.

“Mummy, mummy,” he hears her sharp whispers. “Quick! Daddy’s home!”

“Wha-?” comes a sleepy voice.

Taehyung enters the living room, toasty and warm from the heater, to find his daughter attempting to shake you awake where you lie bundled up in blankets.

“____,” he murmurs, kneeling next to you. “I’m here.”

In an echo of your daughter’s earlier gasp – you truly were mother and daughter after all – you jolt upright and kick off your blankets. “No! No, no, no, we had something planned for you!”

Hurrying into the kitchen and flicking on the lights as you go, you dash to the fridge. Taehyung can’t help but notice the mixing bowl in the sink and the piping bags left abandoned on the island counter, conspicuous amongst the otherwise spotless kitchen. You weren’t normally this messy, but the unkempt state of both you and the kitchen pointed to some plans going awry. When he looks up to find you, you’re setting a cake on the table. It’s rustic looking, definitely home baked, and the icing is patchy in places. The words Happy Birthday Taehyung are scrawled shakily across the top, and the copious amounts of sprinkles is surely his daughter’s handiwork.

There’s a tug on his pant leg, and he looks down to find his four-year-old gazing up at him. “Do you like it?” she asks. “Mummy and I made it for you! But then we got tired and went to take a nap for too long.”

He holds back tears as he bends to pick her up into his arms. She squeals and squirms against him as he places kisses all over her forehead and little chubby cheeks. “Of course I do,” he says, moving over to wrap you up in a hug with his other arm, giving you a kiss of your own on the lips that he’s been missing for the past week. “I love everything you two do, whether it goes according to plan or not.”

You laugh, burrowing your head into him. “Welcome home,” you say, your warm breath puffing into his neck.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’m home.” And he really is, no longer scrounging for bits of it, but taking it in in its entirety.

#ficswithluv #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #btswritersguild #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung fic #taehyung oneshot #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts fic #bts oneshot

[jeonggukkiepabo]

HWASAN [MYG] 🐉

SUMMARY: Yoongi, the only dragon hybrid to exist, has done a lot to escape the life he has been put into. He killed those who held him just to run away, to have the chance of living a life he’s been longing to have for years. Even after switching continents, they seem to be after him, hunting him. When he meets you, he knows you’re one of them and there’s only one way to survive - to kill you.

GENRE: smut  🐉 angst  🐉 action  🐉 fluff-ish

WORD COUNT: 11k

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, mentions of murder and blood, violence, Yoongi rides a motorbike, cursing, blowjobs, fingering, Yoongi has claws and fangs, temperature play, his cum tastes different, choking, fighting for dominance, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Yoongi is stubborn but soft, fox hybrid!taehyung and i’m so soft for him

AUTHOR’S NOTE: It is finally here, my part of The Hybrid Collab! I can’t even tell you how excited I am to post this after months of planning. I think everyone agrees with me that the thought of Dragon!Yoongi is too much to handle. I had this idea in my mind for as long as Daechwita has been around now-it just took me a while to write it sksks.

I’d also love to thank  @spicykoreantatertots​ & @yeojaa​ for betaing this fic and helping me with it.  @kimtaehyunq​ Mags, tysm for designing this beautiful banner for me! Also; thanks for listening to my rambling and keeping up with me and this fic. It was so much fun cooperating your Taehyung into it, I love him. :(

NOW LET’S GET STARTED.

Running was all Yoongi had done for months now.  Running away from those he killed.  Running away from those who wanted him to get killed.  Running away from those that held him ever since he was little, that taught him how to fight and kill. Running away from those that made him a murderer. Running away from Kkangpae.

Yoongi hates running (especially running away), but he had no other choice. He had to leave his home country behind and never go back, finding himself a new place to live instead. He should feel guilty,  he regretted all his actions but by now, he only feels relief. 

Kkangpae treated him like a fucking animal, like a worthless pet. He wasn’t treated like any human being should be treated; he didn’t even have a real bed.

All because Yoongi was a dragon hybrid, the rarest hybrid species on earth. 

The lack of volcanoes in South Korea were the reason why Yoongi was highly valuable to the Kkangpae, because active volcanoes were one of the requirements for dragons to get born. As far as Yoongi knows, there’s only one volcano in South Korea: Ch’uga-ryong, a volcano that hasn’t been active for around five hundred years. 

Around that time, the dragon species became extinct due to a natural disaster that Yoongi didn’t know anything about - because he was still sleeping peacefully in his comfortable egg, buried deep beneath the lava. 

Yoongi’s mother, a purebred dragon, died during the catastrophe, and she was not able to protect the egg. Because of this, his body was not able to develop the way it should have. His egg was found hundreds of years later by scientists. They used newly invented technology to develop the preserved egg and mix human genes into it. Shortly after that process was complete, Yoongi hatched.

Yoongi has never met another dragon hybrid in his life. Maybe he was the only one in existence, maybe other scientists created them the same way as he was created. Even if they existed, they’re probably held the same way he was held - captured by some sort of underground gang and treated like shit.

Yoongi hated it, hated the way he wasn’t even a real creature, that he was built instead of born and that he was sold to Kkangpae to be their guard dog. Even though he was a dragon, well he was supposed to be a dragon, those fucking scientists pulled some weird Jurassic Park shit on him. Did humans even believe in dragons? To most of them he was nothing more than a myth, some creature from a fairytale.

Yoongi almost screams in frustration as his memories hit him once again. The night he decided to end it all, to kill everyone he finds comes back into his vision almost every time he closes his eyes. Because hell, he was a great fighter, the best assassin anyone could ever train and he never failed an attempt of murder. Ever since then, his nights are based on either nightmares or hectic rides on his bike, this is why he lives on coffee and energy drinks even though they're too sweet for his taste, they keep him awake. If he stops to sleep, the memories, the dreams will return in full force.

During that time, Yoongi tries not to stop in motels because:

1. he can’t afford them

2. he shouldn’t waste time on sleep if he can spend them driving down the highway on his motorcycle instead, getting as much distance between South Korea and himself as quickly as possible.

As a dragon hybrid, Yoongi has several magic powers that typical hybrids don’t have, simply because his body doesn’t work like other hybrid bodies; he is born a dragon. Most of his genetics are dragon-like even though he’s now trapped inside a mostly human body. The only features that give off his inhuman origin are his eyes, green and purple irises, swirling around like lava, never resting. Some scales are splattered around his skin, but almost all of them are well hidden under his clothes - and Yoongi is glad that he can hide that feature because of the weird looks he would get if he had scales on his face or hands; no thanks.

That, and the fact that he can extend claws from his “normal” fingernails, which is quite useful in fights… and during other situations. 

One of Yoongi’s biggest advantages is the ability of changing his body temperature to the extreme - whether it’s hot or cold. If he wanted to burn you, he could; if he wanted to feel cold as ice, he could do that as well. He used that power a lot back when he was a little dragon, not wanting to be touched by humans that didn’t have his trust - not that any human has ever earned his trust - so he easily increased his body temperature until those who touched him left with blisters all over their hands.

People always think that dragons have the ability to spit fire, but apparently dragon hybrids can't. All Yoongi was able to do was spit acidic saliva with the ability to burn through all kinds of fabric and material (he even melted a spoon once because he hated the soup he had to eat) and whenever he was really angry, smoke would blow right out of his nostrils.

Kkangpae should’ve known better than to train him until he was invincible. Until he was stronger than them, until he was able to ruin them one by one.

It didn’t even take Yoongi an entire night to kill those who had held him his entire life, which made him Kkangpae’s enemy number one. He obviously didn’t get to kill each member, but he managed to ruin the leftovers by killing their boss, his wife and brother. The golden three, no longer golden anymore.

Which meant one thing: running away. Leaving South Korea with nothing but his motorcycle and never, ever, coming back. Yoongi doesn’t know if he will ever get to settle down somewhere or even where to go next, he just knows that he will never be able to come back to where he originated.

He has been in the United States for almost three months now, after secretly hitching a ride on a very disgusting container ship. In the beginning, he didn’t know where his adventure would bring him, but he has seen some beautiful places here. Yoongi even visits some of the biggest volcanoes in the country (he hates the volcanic mountains in Alaska, though, because the air outside is colder than what he is used to and Yoongi hates the feeling of icy air after a nice long nap in the comfortable lava) to spend some time relaxing his sore muscles. He just left his favorite volcano ever, the Yellowstone in the Rocky Mountains, a week ago and he really misses napping there, but if Kkangpae would ever look for him in the US, volcanoes would probably be an obvious spot to check for a dragon hybrid.

Now Yoongi is here in a cute little suburb that he doesn't even know the name of. Small droplets of rain are blocking the view from his motorcycle helmet and his gas tank is on low, so he decides to stop by the next available gas station and grab some hot coffee on his way to the bordering highway. 

Yoongi didn't bring a crazy amount of baggage from Korea, because it's obviously difficult to ride a motorbike with an abundance of luggage. Instead he sticks to a simple black backpack with some clothes, money that he stole from Kkangpae, his phone, and an old notebook he uses to scribble down places he’s heard of during his trip. 

Even though the gas station is quite empty, Yoongi acts out of instinct and pulls his cap lower into his face, hiding his shimmering eyes and starts to fuel his tank, looking around to check if someone has recognized him. Nobody catches his attention, until a girl on another motorbike stops to get some gas as well. Yoongi scrunches his nose, thinking that his bike was the only one in a suburb like this - because to be honest, he spent a lot of money on it, on spraying it matte black (instead of the bright teal it had before he ran away) and a bigger engine. It isn’t one of the luxurious Korean brands, but a MV Agusta F4 LH44, an expensive ass bike that Kkangpae gave him for jobs out of their area.

This girl though, she rides a fucking Kawasaki Ninja, one of the fastest - and most expensive - bikes out there. He only has eyes for her machine, but once she pulls off her helmet letting her messy hair fall over her back and turns around to the gas pump, he inhales sharply.

She’s Korean. She’s fucking Korean and she rides a fucking expensive bike.

To Yoongi it can only mean one thing: Kkangpae. But, would they really send a girl after him, a powerful dragon hybrid? Probably not. The girl hums some unknown melody as she fuels her bike, looking around as well. Yoongi makes sure that she doesn’t catch a glimpse of his eyes as he turns around to pay. 

But the girl is right behind him, he can feel her body temperature on his sensitive skin and as he walks past her, he can smell something vaguely familiar. That’s when he decides to pull off a classic Joe Goldberg, waiting for the girl some streets down the road and follows her as inconspicuously as possible.

The girl comes to a quicker halt than Yoongi is expecting - simply because he didn’t like to stop more often than necessary -, but he’s quick to park his bike and follow the girl into the establishment she walks in. Bread, Sweets and Treats, says the small sign and Yoongi cringes. Who would come up with such a name? Is the owner inspired by this one Korean band that has a track with a similar name? Yoongi shakes his head to get rid of the distracting thought, instead putting his cap back on and stepping into the café.

She is nowhere to be seen, probably sitting in some booth further back, but as soon as Yoongi attempts to stride through the café, the girl behind the counter smiles at him.

“Hi, I’m Yura! What can I get you?”

He really wants to reply with “nothing.” But the smell of coffee lingers in his nose and who would Yoongi be to decline such a chance? “Just one regular coffee, black, please.” 

He pays quickly, just slapping some notes onto the counter as he looks around once more.

“There’s a few empty tables in the back, go and sit down, relax a bit and I will be there with your coffee as soon as possible!”

That finally gives Yoongi the chance he’s been waiting for, strolling through the café to find the mysterious girl and once he has an eye on her, he sits down three tables to her right. She’s on her phone, taking sips of some hot beverage but takes nervous looks around the café from time to time and Yoongi wonders if she has seen him as well.

“Your coffee!” The barista smiles at Yoongi and places the hot mug in front of him. “Are you sure that you don’t want anything else? You look quite tired and I bet some pastries can help with that!”

Yoongi tries to crack a smile, but he knows people are most likely afraid once they lock eyes with him, but it seems like that his eyes aren’t anything that scares the friendly girl as he mutters a soft “I’m fine, thank you.”

He dares to take another look to his left, a silent gasp leaving his lips. There, on her right arm, is a tattoo of a dragon crawling up to her elbow. The symbol of Kkangpae, inked right into her skin. Yoongi’s assumptions were correct, she is one of those bastards and the only reason she’s here must be to kill him. But Yoongi isn’t one to have that, he’ll be quicker.

Patience is key, he reminds himself as he slowly sips his coffee, keeping an eye on that girl as he thinks about that one night again.

Things happen quickly then, the girl stands up and leaves to go to the restroom, but as soon as Yoongi plans to follow her, an elderly lady goes in there as well.

He sighs, pulling off his cap just to run his hands through his hair before quickly putting it back on, covering his eyes as much as possible. The hunter's knife in his boots feels heavy, ready to be used, but Yoongi doesn’t want to make a scene right here. It would cause more trouble than being effective - and he couldn’t find out more about Kkangpae’s plans in the middle of a café. On the other hand, Yoongi can’t risk losing her, that’s why he acts out of instinct once she comes back from the bathroom.

She makes her way past his table, Yoongi stands up quickly to follow her - and once she’s near the exit, he jumps onto her, slamming his full body weight against her smaller frame and smashes her into one of the tables, the wood breaking under their combined weights. His claws are out and he can feel his skin burning up during his rage as he snarls a low, “What’s your name? What are you doing here and where are the others?” at her. 

She must be a tough one though, because even if she’s scared, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she glares up at him. “Why would I tell someone that attacks me in the middle of a coffee shop my name? Fuck, get off of me, you freak! What even are you?”

Yoongi smirks, pushing her even further into the remains of the table. “Min Yoongi, I think I ruined a bit of your family business.”

Now, her eyes widen in shock as she tries to get out of his burning grip around her throat once more. “You don’t have to kill me”, she whispers. “I don’t belong to them. Not anymore. After you killed my father and my uncle, I knew it would be the best to get out of it as well, trust me!”

Yoongi laughs, head thrown back - and it looks kind of funny, because there’s a little cloud of smoke coming out of his nose - before looking back down at her. “I’ve learned one thing in my life and that’s to never trust anyone. Especially not when they’re wearing that cute little dragon tattoo on their arm. Sorry, but I guess you have to die too.”

An annoyingly high-pitched scream causes Yoongi to lose his guard for one second, giving the girl the chance she needs to break free from his grip. "Stop it, please," one of the baristas pleads, trying to calm some of the nervous customers down. Yoongi looks at him for a second, smirking as he sees the obvious features only mouse hybrids have.

The dragon hybrid snarls, showing off some of his sharper teeth as he grips his target again. "Don't you dare make a scene, mousey. It's been a while since I had one of your ancestors for lunch, you know? And I haven't eaten in quite some time." Then, he turns around to the girl. "I'm sorry love, but this situation is getting a bit out of hand." He uses his foot on her chest to keep her in place as he grabs his favorite knife that's been sitting in his boot the entire trip, just waiting to be finally used.

Fate isn't on Yoongi's side today as another one of the baristas yells at him, running past some other tables to get to where Yoongi is standing. Yoongi groans, pressing the heel of his foot deeper into the girl's chest. "You stay there, little one, okay?" She doesn't answer, just grits her teeth to compensate for the ache in her body. The mouse hybrid freezes on the spot, staring at the scene in front of him. Then, Yoongi turns around to the new voice. "What do you want now, I'm busy and I really need to go after this, so would you let me do my job, please?" The irritation isn’t easy to miss, but Yoongi's patience has always been rather low and he prefers to get over this before the rest of Kkangpae arrives as well. "I don't belong to them anymore, fucking hell!" The girl yells once more, nails digging into Yoongi's jeans-clad calf.

“I’m the manager,” the other barista slash manager says, “You have two seconds before I call the police. Get the hell –“ Yoongi gets ready to leave yet another snarky remark as a rather lean looking guy pushes her behind his frame. 

“I’ve heard rumors about your existence, I was skeptical about it – but anything is possible from where you came from.”

Yoongi’s eyes scan the stranger, thinking about how high his chances are to win another fight when he realizes that he’s one of the rarest hybrid breeds, not a regular fox but a canadian marble fox - which are often held for their beautiful fur. He has been living with one of those in the Kkangpae mansion, the fox hybrid was more likely the opposite of Yoongi’s reason to be there: Yoongi was being held to fight, the fox was a lapdog, bought to look pretty in the leader's wife's lap.

The man in front of him has similar ears, grey with black tips and his amber eyes remind him of the old fox as well. Yoongi tilts his head in visible confusion as he locks eyes with the man.

“I’m not one of them, my name’s Y/N! I’ve heard that you killed my father, my uncle and his wife so I used the chance and ran off, I didn’t know I’d see you here as well, Yoongi! Please, just fucking listen!”, the girl, Y/N, pleads with tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Yoongi, is it? Listen. You can’t do that here, I know what you did to those who held you, but this isn’t the right place!”, the fox hybrid chimes in again. Yoongi’s head moves up and down, he doesn’t know who he should listen to, but he came for this one mission: killing Y/N.

“Shut up, all of you!” He screams out of frustration, the knife starting to melt in his hands because of the unbearable heat radiating from his body. Yoongi drops the now useless weapon to the floor, the weight of his boot no longer suffocating the girl beneath him. She coughs a few times, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, trying to relax her wildly beating heart, but Yoongi doesn’t care about her right now. Instead, he locks eyes with the fox hybrid. “Who are you?” His voice is low, quiet, actually, because Yoongi doesn’t trust it enough to speak up.

“I’m from the Kim lineage”, the hybrid says with raised hands, probably to prove that he’s no danger to Yoongi. “Trust me, I know a lot about our individual histories.” Yoongi breathes through his nose, another tiny cloud of smoke leaving his nostrils as he finally steps back from Y/N. “Kim, as in Kim Jiho? That can’t be it. You’re related to him?” 

He eyes the other man skeptically, not really sure whether to believe him or not. He doesn’t even look at Y/N who’s been standing but not running away yet. 

The other hybrid's answer shocks Yoongi, his eyes widening as he sees the frown on his face, combined with soft ears flopping down sadly. "That's my father."

The woman behind the Kim hybrid whispers something into his ear, causing the man to nod as he looks back at Yoongi, but aIso at Y/N. "Let's just take this outside, we can talk out there." 

Yoongi's eyes flicker between the hybrid and Y/N, then he nods slowly whilst pressing out a low "fine". Just as Y/N starts walking past him he grabs her wrist and pulls her closer, whispering into her ear. "If you try to run off, I'll be right behind you, ready to rip your guts out." As if to prove his point, Yoongi heats his skin up once again, burning Y/N's wrist before smiling sweetly at her and following the fox hybrid out of the café. 

The hybrid, who introduces himself as Kim Taehyung, offers refuge to Yoongi and Y/N at his secret bunker in the nearby mountains. He uses the space to hide during emergencies. It isn’t anything special, it is a literal fox burrow with furniture which totally confirms the impression Yoongi has on Taehyung’s style: simple, yet elegant.

Yoongi is even allowed to eat some of Taehyung’s self grown variety of exotic fruits that he is extremely proud of. He smugly offers a dragon fruit to Yoongi who only raises his brows, a challenging glint to his eyes as he grabs some of the lychees instead and pops them into his mouth. “But you’re supposed to peel them!”, Taehyung screeches, his furry ears twitching in disgust, but Yoongi only smiles and eats one more, swallowing the entire fruit just to see Taehyung’s reaction once more.

“My saliva is acidic, I don’t need to peel them. I’ve been eating worse things, trust me.”

After Taehyung shows Yoongi and Y/N around the bunker (it even included a shower and a functional bedroom), he decides to call it a night and leave the two alone (not without them promising Taehyung to not kill each other, he would “check in the next day” to make sure of it) and heads over to his own little cabin nearby. Once Taehyung leaves, Yoongi pulls Y/N onto the worn out couch to actually sit down and talk.

“Okay, so you say you’re running away from Kkangpae too, right? Why?” Yoongi raises the eyebrow that was cut through by that ugly scar. 

Y/N swallows, trying not to stare at Yoongi’s distracting eyes. “I was born into it, I didn’t choose that life, Yoongi. Just like you I was just a part of their game. I’ve seen people die since I was a kid. I’ve never been allowed to have friends or sleep somewhere else because my father was too ‘worried’ something could happen to me. That’s why one of his coaches trained me in different kinds of martial arts from the time I was able to walk.”

She looks at the hybrid again, shaking her head in disgust.

“Of course I knew what was going on with them, why they were behaving like that and I knew that my father and uncle were the leaders, so there wasn’t any chance for me to get away from it. I tried, really, but once I found out that they got killed... I didn’t know you did it, because the second I heard it, I ran. You can trust me, Yoongi, even though my last name might be occupied by all your prejudices.”

Yoongi listens the entire time, not interrupting her as he tries to understand what she was saying. “I’ve seen you when you were a teen”, he mumbles. “I age differently than humans, but I think you were just around 15 years old when you kicked that one security guy in the balls. That was kind of badass, not gonna lie,” Yoongi smirks at her, eyes glistering mischievously. Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “He liked my dress way too much. One more reason not to wear those weird things at all.” Yoongi hums. “I bet you look great in those, but I do like your leather pants too. Anyways, what leads you to the US? It’s not the most… unusual choice to run away to. Wouldn't a country like Greece or Egypt be better? They must be looking after you too. I tried hiding in volcanoes but it was too obvious.”

The girl shrugs her shoulders, shivering now that the evening starts to settle in. “I don’t know, to be honest. All those countries sound nice and fun, but I don’t speak their language. America is huge, too. I wasn’t planning on staying in this town, but now that I met you, I mean… We could run off together, maybe? I can fight and I know how to use a gun and I’ve heard of your… powers, too. You might know how they fight, but I know how they think. Us teaming up would be useful.” She shuffles around, unsure about how Yoongi would react. 

“Are you cold?” 

“What?” 

This wasn’t the reaction Y/N was waiting for. “Are you cold? You’re shivering. I’ve never used my powers in this way, but maybe I could help you,” 

Yoongi shrugs as he slowly touches her arm and attempts to heat up his own skin in a way that wouldn’t hurt the girl. Y/N flinches at first, but the temperature heating up her body is too comfortable to deny.

“Oh god, this is amazing,” she leans her head against the headrest and closes her eyes. “I haven’t been this comfortable in a while.” 

Yoongi nods, he understands that. The bunker is the first place he might be able to actually sleep. “I’ve been sleeping in volcanoes, like I said, but I haven’t really slept since I left the last one. Not that anyone could come in it and try to kill me, but after two days of sleeping and soaking in lava, it got boring.”

“I wouldn’t even mind bathing in lava as long as it’s this comfortable”, Y/N whispers as she drifts off into a deep slumber. 

Once she’s asleep, Yoongi removes his hand slowly and looks around to find a comforter to throw over her relaxed body. Then he decides that he finally deserves the luxury of a real shower, with real hot water (that he heats up even more), before snuggling into the bed and closing his eyes for at least a few hours.

The next few days went by like nothing, Yoongi and Y/N weren’t really ready to go outside and face the world, so they stay inside the bunker to plan their getaway. They go out twice, practicing their fighting skills and helping Taehyung to pick some fruits (because Yoongi felt bad, he ate the entire mango stash in one night).

This evening, Yoongi prepares some food that he finds in the cupboards, some pasta and a canned sauce that he heats up in his hands, not bothering to put it onto the stove. He’s at the point where he decides that Y/N deserves his trust, that she won’t kill him and he’s pleasantly surprised to have someone like that in his life. 

Y/N steps out of the shower, towel wrapping around her delicate body as Yoongi plates the food on the makeshift table. 

“I swear to you, my muscles are still sore from your training yesterday!” She huffs as she searches her backpack for fresh clothes. “Can I grab one of your shirts? One of us has to do laundry tomorrow, I’m going to ask Taehyung how he’s doing it when he’s out here. But for now, I need something comfortable because I can’t squeeze my tired body in leather pants and a tight tank. So, please, Yoongi?” Y/N smiles her sweetest smile, causing Yoongi to groan out, defeated.

“And what am I supposed to wear tomorrow? My old stinky one that I sweat into during training?” He raises the scarred eyebrow at her as he sits down in front of his own plate, starting to eat already. 

Y/N pouts as she grabs one of his last clean shirts and runs into the bathroom. When she comes back, she’s wearing that shirt - and only that shirt. Yoongi almost drops his fork.

It’s not like those movies where the girlfriend wears her boyfriend’s shirt and it looks cute and stops above her knee, no. Yoongi isn’t the tallest, Y/N’s actually almost the same height as him - with more curves than Yoongi's lanky body. Instead, his ‘oversized’ shirt ends just a bit below her ass. Yoongi would bet that if she bends down, her entire peach would be on full view for him.

“Aren’t you going to wear any pants?” Yoongi mutters. To be honest, he hopes she won’t opt for pants because… he’s just a man and even his dragon instincts think about sex from time to time.

“Is it bothering you?” Y/N asks as she plops down besides him, starting to eat right away as well. 

There isn’t much space between them and Yoongi can see her hardening nipples under the shirt that once belonged to him. He shrugs. “Nah, but don’t come ask me to heat you up just because you’re freezing your ass off again.” 

She quirks an eyebrow. “Would it bother you? Heating me up?” 

“Probably.”

Y/N pouts and turns away slightly after she throws a blanket over her legs, continuing to eat her pasta. “How long are we going to stay here? We planned to leave for Italy, but when? It’s getting colder each day and I don’t like that winter’s coming.”

Yoongi stands up to go and wash his plate, not sure about the answer to Y/N’s question.

“There’s nothing holding us here. We could go and leave tomorrow, but we could also stay for a few more days, try to get enough sleep and take advantage of this bunker. I mean, would we get the chance to have such a perfect hideout again? Let’s use this opportunity for as long as we can.” 

Inside, Yoongi knows that he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He wasn’t ready to face the world, not ready to be on the run again. “How much money did you take with you? Wherever we decide to stop by next, we should think about a way to earn money.”

 “I left with my card and packed some money from the family’s safe before I realized it isn’t that smart to run away with my credit card that could be tracked. I withdrew some more money and gave the card to a homeless lady,” Y/N shrugs as she dries the plate Yoongi has washed before placing it back into the cupboard. “I think I still have around 10 grand in my backpack, I really don’t know. I didn’t need a lot of money, most of it was needed for gas and coffee.” 

“You’ve been travelling with 10 thousand in cash? That’s kinda stupid. What are going to do if someone tries to rob you? Ugh,” Yoongi can feel the smoke leaving his nostril as he paces through the room, feeling restless out of sudden. 

Y/N giggles. “Are you worried? Min Yoongi, the baddest dragon alive is worried about a girl that grew up with Kkangpae and definitely knows how to protect herself.”

Yoongi scrunches his nose, already feeling his skin heat up - but not in the magical way he’s used to. Nope. Min Yoongi is being shy. 

“You are worried! How cute! Are you sure you’re a dragon and not just a little lizard? One of those that live in the fields and kids go and pick them up to have them as a pet in some shoeboxes?” Y/N steps closer, gently bumping her hip against Yoongi’s before patting his head with a giggle. “Who knew that the bad boy that’s one of the most powerful human beings is getting soft over a girl.”

Enough’s enough. Even though Yoongi never had the chance to fall in love, to be in a relationship or build a real friendship, he has had more than enough experience in other things, having shared ruts and heats with countless other hybrids that has some sort of place in Kkangpae. He turns around, his instincts taking over him.

Puffing out his chest a bit, standing completely straight so he will hover over Y/N, Yoongi steps forward, breath fanning over her face. “Did you just call me a fucking lizard?”

His eyes are going wild right now, the purple and green swirling around even faster than the usual soft flow of colors. He growls, stretching his neck from side to side as he starts to feel his fangs growing, soon poking out of his lips. 

Y/N smirks, tilting her head to the side, looking up innocently at the fuming dragon in front of her. “Too bad you can’t change forms, huh?” She doesn’t even get to add another snarky comment to her sentence as Yoongi’s body presses her against the rough wall, his shirt sliding up her body as he cages her in.

“You’re acting like an ungrateful bitch, Y/N. Even got to wear my shirt like you’re someone that actually means something to me, yet you’re being bratty and annoying. I don’t hesitate to get rid of people that act up on me, you should know that by now.” 

His hot breath fans her face and Y/N tries her best not to squirm under his intense glare. Then, she smirks. “You wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Mhhm, you’re right, I wouldn’t. Still, you’re being bratty and I don’t appreciate such behavior.” Yoongi looks at Y/N, eyes still intimidating her. 

“What are you going to do about it? Spank me?” She laughs, knowing that situations like this only happen in those new adult novels, not during an escape.

“I should, but maybe you won’t be able to keep up with it. In the end, you’re just human whilst I’m nothing more than a cute little lizard, huh?” Yoongi looks at his hands, claws forming where his fingernails once were. “I don’t remember lizards being able to hurt you, though. Wanna try?” His smirk is dangerous, but so alluring that Y/N just nods, not knowing what the night will bring for her.

Once they move to the makeshift bedroom, Y/N’s knees start to get weak. Yoongi feels the change in her aura, smirking to himself as he stops right behind her, hot breath blowing on her neck. 

“Is there anything you don’t like, Bambi?” His fangs gently poke the juncture of her neck, not enough to actually draw blood but to make her twist under his touch.

“I don’t think so, I mean… I guess I like… Yoongi, can you stop that for a second, please?” She turns around in his grip, cheeks blushing and lips parted. Yoongi cooes.

“This turned on already? Can’t even form sentences? Alright, I’ll sit down then and you’re going to tell me what I’m allowed to do to you,” Yoongi smirks as he slumps on the mattress, manspreading to give Y/N the best view of the bulge in his pants.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sinks down between his legs, a dangerous smirk now lingering on her lips. “Maybe I’ll just show you what I like and you can take over from that? Figured you’d be one that prefers to be in control. I’ll go by the traffic light system if I’m not okay with anything - or I’ll kick you in the balls, so don’t worry.”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to answer as Y/N presses her mouth against his clothed dick to kiss it lightly. His hips buck slightly as she wraps her lips around him and starts sucking on the side of his bulge through the fabric. She smiles as his cock grows harder under her lips, but Yoongi is quick to pull her off. “I really appreciate your effort but are you down there to drool all over my pants or are you going to suck me off? I promise you my dick is human, not one of a lizard.”

She pouts, playing with the hem of his joggers. “Where’s the fun in that? But fine,” Y/N rolls her eyes and pulls them down slowly, her nails gently scratching the skin of his stomach while doing so. As the waistband of his pants go past his cock, she is not even surprised that Yoongi isn’t wearing any boxers underneath them. 

“Predictable,” she mutters mostly to herself, but Yoongi grabs a bunch of her hair to push Y/N back on his, this time naked, length. 

It costs her a lot of self control to not retort him with a snarky remark, as she continues to remove his pants slowly. Yoongi growls, but she just smiles up at him and grabs his heavy dick to stroke it two, three times. Then, she leans down to gently lick his balls, still not using her mouth on his dick.

Yoongi twists and groans, trying his hardest not to grab her and shove his entire length down her throat until it’s sore, but this woman is testing his patience. One of his hands is still on the back of her head whilst he uses the other one to lean back a little, just to get a better view.

“Are you done playing now, Petal?” Yoongi’s grip on Y/N’s hair tightens, his claws digging into her head - and Y/N can’t keep in the silent mewl that leaves her lips at the burning pleasure. “Be a good girl now, will you?” His voice is almost alluring her to do as he pleases, but Y/N wouldn’t be herself if she follows his orders. 

Their eyes meet and Yoongi has to admit that she looks perfect. Even though she isn’t wearing any make up right now, hair still damp from her shower and eyes already clouded with lust, he wouldn’t want any other person to be in her position right now. 

She stares at his cock again, her own panties dampening at the thought of having it inside her. Y/N’s tongue pokes out to play with his tip, tasting him and getting a feeling for the heaviness on her tongue as Yoongi pushes her down in one swift motion. A gurgling sound escapes from Y/N’s throat, but she does her best to swallow his huge length, using her fist to stroke whatever can’t fit. 

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi groans and throws his head back while trying to keep his eyes on Y/N at the same time. Her eyes are closed, lips beautifully parted around his cock and saliva already drips down her chin, even though Yoongi hasn’t even really moved by now. “You’ll let me fuck your mouth, right, angel?” 

She nods as good as she can with a mouth full of dick, looking up at the hybrid in front of her. Yoongi hisses as he pushes his hips forward, losing himself in the feeling quickly as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. The sight of Y/N not only sucking him off but also wearing his shirt sends him close to edge quickly.

Y/N pulls off to take a deep breath and to wink at Yoongi before sinking down again. 

"God, you're so good, Petal. Wanted to fuck that bratty mouth for so long now. Imagine your father seeing you like that, he'd die from the shock, his little princess on her knees to please the housedragon." 

She moans at his words, fingers sIiding under her, Yoongi's, shirt, but the man is quick to grab both of her hands to cross them behind her head. He grabs her wrists as he plunges himself down her throat once more before he spills his hot load into her mouth with a loud growl a bit of smoke that comes out of his nostrils.

As Y/N pulls off, her eyes show the disbelief she must be feeling. "You… You taste like…" 

"Cinnamon?", Yoongi smirks, his eye color now much calmer than before now that his inner dragon is somewhat sated - for now.

“Yes, I was expecting anything, a double penis, maybe some weird forms or scales, but not cinnamon flavoured cum. Not that I mind, though. Tastes like that gum I used to have when I was still in school.”

Yoongi hums, stepping out of his pants now that they won’t be used anyways, his shirt following too.

“Now it’s your turn, petal. Let me see you,” he gestures with his fingertip, swirling in a motion for her to turn around, finally giving Yoongi the view that he had been curious about ever since Y/N came out of the bathroom with his shirt on. She isn’t wearing one of those expensive lingeries that are nothing but lace, no. Expensive, yes. A sporty looking string is disappearing between her round buttcheeks, the rather thick waistband of it covered with the Versace logo. Yoongi hums, that’s definitely what he had expected Y/N to wear, it looks comfortable but still seductive.

Y/N smirks over her shoulder, lifting the hem of her shirt teasingly but letting it fall down again to cover her butt. “Maybe you need privileges to undress me, Min. I mean, I’m somewhat of royal blood, aren’t I?” She gracefully sinks down onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck.

A chuckle leaves Yoongi’s lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want me to call you princess now? Because I didn’t know you were into that. Does babygirl also do the thing for you? I bet your blood’s blue too, I’d love to see that.” 

Yoongi traces his finger tip over her thigh, his claw teasing the soft skin there and Y/N’s eyes follow it curiously. He presses down a bit, just enough to break the first layer of skin and draw a little bit of blood - enough to prove both of them that Y/N’s blood isn’t blue. “Oh, too bad, not a real princess,” Yoongi pouts. 

Y/n raises her eyebrow. “Did you just cut me?” 

“It’s not a cut, just a little… poke?” Yoongi wipes over the blood before bringing his finger to his lips and licking the drop off with a smirk. “Doesn’t taste royal to me, rather muddy. But maybe that’s what you get from living with Kkangpae for so long. Guess mine tastes like dirt too.” 

Y/N laughs, not even shocked about the fact that Yoongi seems to  be bothered about her blood on his tongue. The melodic sound of her laugh makes Yoongi smile too, an actual, honest smile that shows all his teeth and fangs, causing Y/N to coo. “And suddenly you don’t look scary anymore.”

Her eyes wander down his body, inspecting every inch, maybe to find something more dragon-like, maybe to just remember the skinship for much longer. “Oh,” She breathes out, “You’ve got scales.”

Yoongi looks down at his stomach where some scales are shimmering in the bedroom light. “Yes, I do have scales. I’m a dragon, remember?” 

And to Y/N, they’re beautiful. They’re not huge, not as dry or disgusting as lizards look like, no. Those scales must come from a line of beautiful dragons. They match his eyes, shimmering purple and green whenever they hit the light. But they’re not only on his stomach, they are also winding around his sides and up his back. 

Y/N’s fingers follow them as she orders Yoongi to lay down on his stomach to get a full view of them. 

The scales grow larger on his shoulder blades, probably where his dragon wings imaginely would be and Y/N can’t help but kiss the rough texture. Goosebumps erupt on Yoongi’s entire body, skinship like this was never a real thing for him. 

“Feels good,” he whispers into his arm, slightly ashamed. Y/N continues to pamper his skin in kisses and licks, biting the rougher areas here and there until Yoongi grows impatient and turns them around, growling playfully. 

“Like I said, my turn now.”

Yoongi always has a thing for taking his time to please his partner, he isn’t one for quick fucks without foreplay. So, he kneels between Y/N’s parting legs, palms caressing the smooth skin that is covered in a few fresh cuts and old scars from practicing her fighting skills, but Yoongi definitely didn’t mind them. His shirt has moved on its own, not even covering her panties anymore but ending somewhere above her belly button by now. As soon as his fingertips glide over the curve of her hips, Y/N shudders with a quiet mewl. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm, ‘m here, you look so good, Petal,” Yoongi whispers while kissing her ankles, her calves, and the sensitive area of her inner thighs. “Truly like a flower. You know that there’s a flower called Dragon’s Breath? It’s bright red and can survive in the heat like a champ, even their leaves are red. But I don’t think it’s scent comes close to yours,” he hums in front of her clothed core, tongue poking against the wet spot on the fabric. “Bet you taste even better, Petal.”

“Yoongi, please,” Y/N whines, getting rid of the shirt by herself, the heat simmering inside her body is almost overwhelming. Yoongi looks up from the space between her legs, eyeing the swell of her breasts with a growl, muttering compliments again and again. He sits up the slightest bit to gently remove her panties - claws nowhere to be seen by now, even his fangs are gone and Yoongi’s just Yoongi, even though the arousal is visible in his eyes again. 

He lies down, cock rubbing against the rough sheets causes him to hiss quietly, but his mind is somewhere else within seconds. How couldn’t he with Y/N’s soaking core in front of his face? 

She can’t see his mischievous smirk as he swiftly controls the temperature of his skin, cooling down his fingertips as he slowly and teasingly traces her folds. 

Y/N yelps. “Yoongi! Shit, what’s that?” 

Yoongi laughs, holding up his unoccupied hand to her face, showing her how cold his fingers are by holding them against her cheek whilst the other hand works magic on her clit. 

“Unbelievable. Warn me the next time,” she mutters as she sinks back into the pillows. 

Yoongi’s hot breath fans the sensitive area before he broadly licks right across the flesh, enjoying the way her body jumps out of surprise again. “Oh, oops.”

Then, he finally pushes one finger in, tongue pressing right against Y/N’s clit as he starts doing what it feels like he was born to do. Yoongi eats her out with no mercy. Ignoring her squirming body and needy whines, he only concentrates on the places that bring the loudest moans out of her, massacring those until she’s close - to stop with a smug smirk. 

Y/N could reach her high by just looking at his face, red and breathless, but also wet from her juices, lips glistering in the light. Two of his fingers are still inside her, teasing her G-spot just as his lips start sucking the life out of her clit again. 

Y/N’s hands are buried in his chaotic mess of hair, pulling on it but also pressing him further onto her core until his tongue slips inside her as well. She doesn’t warn him, too scared of missing another orgasm, but Yoongi also doesn’t look like he’s about to stop this time, eager to pleasure the woman underneath him. Y/N screams as she reaches her high, hips bucking up from the bed, Yoongi’s head going with it, just so he can make sure that every second of her orgasm will be remembered forever.

He kitten licks her folds as she calms down; stroking her thighs, kissing her stomach while whispering praises. “Fuck,” she rasps out, her stomach still heaving heavily. 

Yoongi crawls up next to her with admiration in his eyes as he leans over to kiss Y/N for the first time. She can taste herself on his tongue, but who cares? The kiss is more gentle than Y/N expects. Yoongi seems to be switching moods from hungry to loving within seconds, but that’s probably his inner dragon wanting to devour her whilst Yoongi just wants to take his time to make the night special. Y/N is the one to pull away, looking at him with dark eyes. “Get inside me, please.”

The hybrid smirks, tilting his head as he asks “How do you like it?” 

“I’ll show you,” she remarks as she pushes Yoongi to lay flat on his back. She climbs into his lap and sinks down onto his cock in one abrupt motion without even bothering to tease him. 

The pleasure is overwhelming; Yoongi stretches her so, so good and Y/N feels so, so warm and tight around Yoongi that he loses all of his control over his body. His eyes are bright purple now, pupils forming into slits that remind Y/N more of a snake than a dragon. His skin burns up, almost too much for her to bear, but the hissing noises Yoongi releases are enough to hold on through it. 

“Fuck, sorry, wait a second,” Yoongi tries to push her off so she can cool down a little bit, but Y/N just shakes her head. She shushes him with a gentle kiss, careful of the fangs that now poke out between his lips again. “Don’t hold back, it’s not hurting me. Be yourself, Yoongi. I trust you.”

Yoongi curses under his breath as he tries his best not to move, letting Y/N adjust to his size and the circumstances of his inhumane origin. He’s never fucked a human, and even though they’re not that much different from hybrids he knew that he didn’t want to hurt her. 

“It’s not only the temperature,” Yoongi groans, “I tend to bite and mark my partners. I don’t know how your body would react to it, though. I sometimes say or do things that my human side would never say.” 

Y/N smiles at him, fondness blooming in her heart as she starts swaying her hips slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Like I said, Yoongi, I trust you. I’m sure that you’re inside your inner dragon, that you won’t hurt me and even if I tell you to stop; you’d be able to. Now, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re getting all shy while your dick is inside me?” 

She tilts her head with a playful smile as her hands glide down Yoongi’s toned chest, teasing his perky nipples and playing with his beautiful scales. It was still hard to believe that the rarest, most powerful hybrid was right here with her, laying underneath her, sharing this moment with her.

“Now come on, Yoongi, wake up the dragon and give me what you’ve promised.”

Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice, hands landing a firm grip on Y/N’s hips as he plants his feet firmly on the mattress before quickly pistoning up inside her. Y/N cries in pleasure, but Yoongi almost doesn’t hear it, too lost in the feeling of her tight pussy around his cock. He’s still trying to be careful, keeping his claws under control so he won’t actually tear her apart. 

“‘m gonna make you cum so good, Petal. So, so good.”

Then, he flips them around in one swift motion, hovering over her frame as he looks down at her like only a predator could. “Mine,” he snarls as he licks into Y/N’s mouth, hips moving slowly but so powerful that her body pushes up into the pillow with each thrust. “Say it, Petal. Say you’re mine.”

Yoongi grabs her face so she can’t break eye contact - not that she would, who could look away from such eyes? They’re hypnotizing and Y/N is sure that she will do just about anything for him right now.

“I’m yours, Yoongi. It’s just you and me right now,” she breathes out as she grabs his hair, pulling his head closer so she can connect their lips once more.

Yoongi’s hips start to stutter, his orgasm approaching, but he didn’t want it to end just yet. Of course, dragon stamina is different, but where would be the fun in that? Orgasm control and denial is a thing that Yoongi enjoys here and there, teasing himself whilst masturbating, not letting him or his partners come and delaying their pleasure for as long as he possibly can. That’s why he pulls out quickly, leaving Y/N’s core clench around nothing. 

“The fuck, Yoongi?” Y/N whines and glares at the man in front of her, eyeing his sweaty body.

He laughs and presses a quick kiss to her lips before he sits back on his heels, staring at her body as well. Her chest is heaving, fine pearls of sweat dripping down the space between her breasts and her legs are slightly shaking - all of that is enough to boost Yoongi’s confidence as he quickly pushes two of his fingers inside her, pumping them at a rapid pace. His teeth - and fangs - nibble on her nipples, pulling them slightly, almost crossing the border of comfortable pain as he fingers her through her second orgasm of the night. 

“Do you want to kill me?” Y/N sighs as she catches her breath, knowing that Yoongi is not done with her for tonight. 

He laughs again, fangs shining in the light and tiny droplets of sweat fall out of his hair as he shakes his head. “I could, but where would be the fun in that? Or are you one of those girls that like the thrill of almost being killed? I could choke you if you’re into that.”

“Oh, I am into that, but not after orgasming two times and knowing that there will probably be two more coming. Is that one of your kinks? Choking?” She tilts her head in an adorable way - too adorable for the position she’s in right now. 

“Mhhm,” Yoongi hums whilst tracing the sensitive skin on her stomach. Y/N jumps slightly, shooting Yoongi a playful glare before quickly jumping onto him. She sits down on his abdomen, leans over and closes her hands around his throat. “Do you like being choked too?” 

“Can you handle me fighting back against it?” The challenge shimmers in Yoongi’s eyes, knowing that Y/N is nowhere as strong as he is, but he loves playing. He doesn’t mind if she wants to be on top, he enjoys losing control once in a while, but his dragon usually hates it, fights against it.

Y/N loosens the grip of one hand to slowly rake her fingernails down his chest, leaving visible lines. “I’ve never said no to a good fight, Yoongi.”

The hybrid growls, hands balling to fists as Y/N tightens the grip on his neck once again. 

“This is so hot, you’re so hot,” He whispers, eyes closed and lost in the feeling.  

Then, Y/N lines herself up with Yoongi again and sinks down slowly, gasping slightly because the stretch is still there, but it feels so good. “God, move, please move,” Yoongi rasps and who would Y/N be to deny him such a thing? She uses both of her hands to sturdy herself on his chest whilst quickly bouncing up and down his cock. The noises that Yoongi makes are music to her ears, he’s usually so quiet, but now he doesn’t even try to hide the pleasure he’s feeling.

He groans, grunts, hisses and even moans whilst his hips buckle up to meet her thrusts. “Fuck, I’m going to breed you so well. You’re mine, Y/N. Gonna be my mate, huh? Gonna carry my chicks, all beautiful and round.”

Y/N’s eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, but she can’t deny the arousal that floods through her body with his words. “Yes, Yoongi. Fuck, yes, breed me.”

By now the biggest roar leaves Yoongi’s chest as he pushes Y/N off, to grab her hips and position her on all fours in front of him. A harsh slap lands on her ass as he pushes in again, pressing her face-down into the pillows. “I will, Petal. You could never want anyone else after being mine. Nobody else. Just me.” 

His hand finds its way into her hair, wrapping it around his wrist as he pulls her head back, having her at full mercy. 

They’re both a loud mess by now and Yoongi is fucking thankful for the bunker, because imagine if they’d go on like this in Taehyung’s cabin instead - the entire forest would be able to listen to them. 

It’s gross and sweaty, wild and not gentle, but both of them enjoy it way too much. 

Y/N can’t even warn Yoongi before her third orgasm washes through her body and the tight clench combined with her sinful moans sends Yoongi over the edge too - spilling his thick load into her with one last thrust. 

“Shit,” he groans as he collapses on top of her, pressing kisses all over her neck. “You were so good, Petal.” 

Y/N smiles, nuzzling back into him and closes her eyes to enjoy the comfortable post-sex silence. Yoongi hums quietly, giving the two of them time to cool down - he helps her by reducing his body temperature again -, then he pulls out. “Ew,” he mutters as his cum gushes out of her. 

“Creampies are hot whilst you’re still busy with fucking, but afterwards it’s just a gross mess. Wanna take a shower?”

Y/N’s way too lazy to shower right now, she’d die for a hot bath but the bunker didn’t give her any chance to fulfill that dream, so she just nods. “Mhm, yes, but you’ve got to carry me, you big lizard.”

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows before sighing in defeat. “Guess I’ll need to show you my dragon once again.” He lifts Y/N up easily and carries her towards the bathroom, just to have her at his mercy once more. And this time, Y/N doesn’t argue about him being a true dragon. 

Days and nights go by quickly whilst Yoongi and Y/N grow closer each passing minute. 

They spend their days together training, teaching each other self defense tricks and talking about which places they want to travel to next. 

They do sleep together now, not fighting over who will get the bed and who will have to stay on the couch. Some nights are a bit colder, which gives Yoongi the opportunity to hold Y/N close to his chest while slowly heating himself up to a comfortable temperature to sleep in. In general, you could say that Yoongi and Y/N act like a couple - though they don’t talk about their feelings right now.

Yoongi has never been in love and neither has Y/N, Kkangpae hasn't given them any chance to find a suitable partner to spend their lives with. So how would they know if love is what they are feeling?

What Yoongi does know is that he’d protect Y/N with his life - and vice versa.

Cuddling on the couch has become a thing for Y/N and Yoongi and he hates being unsure about the whole situation, he didn’t want to label them, but he is itching to know what’s going on between them. So one evening after dinner, he blurts out “Are we in a relationship? Like, are we a thing now?” 

Y/N jumps slightly in Yoongi’s embrace and looks up at the hybrid, unsure. “I… don’t know? I guess you could say so, we do a lot of couple things, I mean last night when you ate my..-” 

“Oh, yes, I remember. That was fun!” 

Yoongi smirks at the memory of last night’s bedtime adventures, Y/N trapped underneath him, her legs wrapping around his head as he ate her out slowly and teasingly, before he just pulls her on top of himself to sit on his face. Now he has not only her pussy in front of him, but also her ass - and what kind of man would Yoongi be to not use this opportunity?

“I mean, I would… I would like to be in a relationship with you, Yoongi. I trust you, I really like you and I feel like we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together anyway,” Y/N looks at her hands and bites her lip in anticipation, fearful about the man’s answer.

“That sounds like you’re choosing to date me just because I’m the only man around you, Petal.” 

He gently grabs her face, giving her no chance to break the eye contact. This time, the green in his eyes is more prominent than the purple - a rare sight, but Y/N is still in awe. “I want you to choose me because you actually like me, Y/N. Not just like, but maybe even love me. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, there can’t be love between us for now, but I can say for myself that I am really close to loving you. I want to spend the rest of my life running away with you, not just because I have to.”

Y/N pouts, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at Yoongi. “I didn’t mean it like that, Yoongi. But if you’re asking this charmingly, yes, I’d like to date you too, you big baby.” Yoongi growls playfully, showing off his fangs - which he knows that they don’t scare Y/N at all, but he’s proud of them, so he shows them off here and there - and pressing a gentle kiss onto her lips. 

Feelings change kisses. Kissing somebody that you’re now dating is even better so the new couple spends minutes kissing each other carefully and lovingly. Yoongi is just about to get Y/N on his lap as the door bursts open and an out of breath looking Taehyung stands in the living room.

“Yoongi… They’re here… Rats, but they smelled weird,” the hybrid pants as he looks at Yoongi. 

The dragon just stares at Taehyung intensely, before nodding. “Thanks, man. Really. For your help, for letting us stay here, take care of yourself, okay?”

All of them know that it’s now the time for Y/N and Yoongi to leave, not coming back ever again because Kkangpae would always have their men here from now on. 

“Thank you, Tae,” Y/N bows slightly with red cheeks, still embarrassed that they got caught. 

“Good luck, guys.” Taehyung sends them a hurt smile, knowing that he and Yoongi could actually be friends if their lives were different, but now it was time to say goodbye so Taehyung turns around and leaves as quickly as he came.

Yoongi sighs as he stands up and starts gathering their things. “Time to pack. You’ll do the bedroom and I’ll collect our stuff from here, okay? I think the next stop will be South Africa, it’s a long trip but it’ll be worth it, Kkangpae would probably never search for us there.” 

And so, they do end up in Kenya almost two weeks later, the US long forgotten as their lives go on. 

The trip is actually fun, Yoongi and Y/N riding on their motorbikes - Yoongi is even allowed to ride hers for a short amount of time - taking the ferry instead of the plane and sleeping at random places in the countries they passed.

Kenya is beautiful, the temperature is perfect for Yoongi and he finally gets the glow a true dragon should have. He doesn’t look as pale anymore, random scales growing here and there on his arms and neck and Y/N has never found Yoongi to be more beautiful. He seems truly happy.

The couple even started to go out, visiting different National Parks and trying to find some volcanoes for Yoongi. Y/N knows that she could never go near an active volcano, but Yoongi swears that he needed them at least once every two months to keep his dragon alive - though Y/N thinks he wants to take a long nap in the lava again.

During their time at the Masai Mara National Reserve they met another hybrid, a rare persian cheetah by the name of Hoseok. He greets them with open arms and is friendly enough to show them around. 

Hoseok also gives them a perfect description of how Yoongi would find the only active volcano in South Africa on Marion Island. That’s where the couple is right now, Y/N swimming in the turquoise water around the island whilst Yoongi takes, to no surprise, a nap in the lava. 

They’re genuinely happy, living more relaxed and peaceful than ever before and once Yoongi wakes up from his nap and sees Y/N still swimming around, playing with little fish and looking as beautiful as ever, he just knows that he made the right decision. She’s the one he wants to spend his life with, have kids with and die with.

They have a good feeling that Kkangpae won’t find them here. This can be their home from now on. Though, they wouldn’t mind the chance to discover more of the earth, travel around and meet new people. 

But South Korea isn’t on their list, that’s for sure. 

#ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #magicshopnet #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanarmynet #suganetwork #bts #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi #suga #suga fanfiction #hybrid #hybrid yoongi #dragon yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #hybrid bts #hybrid collab #dragon hybrid #btscollab #bts fic #yoongi fic

[threeletterslife]

Vernacular

→ [7/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: Namjoon shows you the five languages of love in times of intense mundanity and depression.

→ pairing/rating: namjoon x reader | PG

→ genre: 98% fluff, 2% angst | historical!au (industrial revolution)

→ warnings: none

→ wordcount: 1.2k

→ a/n: and here’s the conclusion to the glossary series!! can’t believe it’s finally ended. this is also the shortest piece i’ve ever written but listen, ~soft~ joonie has me weak on my knees 😩

Quiet clicks and clacks fill the heavy air. Dry dust flies along with the wind and soon finds purchase on the ground, settling down amongst the brown dirt. The machines whir at a patterned, pleasant pace, and if it weren’t for the scarlet-hued scrapes and cuts on your hands that sting with the lightest of pain, you would’ve lulled yourself to sleep a long, long time ago. You wipe the wet perspiration off your brow with the back of your soot-covered arm and stare at the delicate cloth in your hands.

It’s pure white, contrasting from the filth around you. So fleecy and soft—spun with the nicest of material and the greatest of care. You'd once looked at the colorless fabric and despised its apparent spruceness, its silkiness in your rough, calloused fingers. But now a smile rests on your lips.

Everything around you—from the delicate layer of dirt on the floor to the embellished oil stains on the walls—is beautiful in some way. You just have to know how to see it.

Your smile stays on your face throughout the day. Where others are grim and darkened by dust, you glow in your own contentment. You're beaming during your five-minute lunch break. You're beaming when you're walking home, past the dilapidated tenements and scurrying rats. And you beam the brightest when you open the door to your humble quarters, finding your husband waiting for you, as usual, sitting on the wooden table he built eight years ago.

He's always your beacon of light.

"Hello, Namjoon."

He beams right back at you, his eyes tired but his grin youthful and full of life.

Ever since your late husband passed away in a mine accident, Namjoon's been there to console you. It's been years since the two of you moved in together, bound by your ties in marriage. You'd forged another relationship through the turmoils of your life. He'd saved you, really. After your late husband's death, life didn't seem worth living anymore. Days passed but it felt like you were living the same hours over and over and over again.

You'd been like all the other workers in that textile factory of yours—lifeless, dull, colorless. But Namjoon waltzed into your life and taught you how to love again. Your still heart began to stir, flutter, soar upon his request. And now, every day is simply a gift. There is always something to be curious about, to seek.

"What color would the sky be if it were not blue?" Namjoon asks you one day as you recall.

You look up at the endless cerulean horizons, eyes squinting to block out the sunlight. He always asks the strangest of questions. "I am unsure," you answer truthfully. "But I do know no other color would make me feel as calm."

Namjoon laughs—it's the full kind of laughter, one that makes you want to laugh along with him and dance amongst the clouds, dance in the rain, dance in the mud.

He'd taught you what love really means.

"It's a universal language," he'd tell you time and again, often when he's sitting down after a long day of work, holding a book in his hands and his reading glasses hanging off his sloped nose. He's knowledgeable like that. And you love that about him.

"I love you," he declares to you every night in bed. Though the mattress creaks and the wind rattles the windows, though the mice squeak underneath the furniture and the darkness envelops your home. He tells you every day without fail.

Sometimes, when someone does something every day, it loses its meaning, its significance. After all, what makes life so tedious is its everyday mundanity. But somehow, Namjoon makes each and every consecutive declaration of his full heart more and more meaningful. There's something about his unadulterated devotion to you that is so pure, so raw that it almost hurts.

He spends all of his sparse free days with you.

He likes to recite poetry from memory in the sunlight. By the amber shine of dusk, he likes to read novels to you, to entertain you with fictional tales of happiness and sorrow. By the time the starlight filters through the thin drapes of the bedroom, he tells you his thoughts, his hopes, his endless dreams. Sometimes, he coaxes you to do the same. And though some emotions, some feelings are too unfathomably profound to be expounded with words, what he can't speak, he shows with his careful actions.

He massages your shoulders after particularly long workdays. He sweeps the floors and scrubs the table when you're feeling under the weather. When he finds your old table to creak at the slightest pressure of weight, he spends countless nights awake with the moon to build a new one. One that you can use comfortably without the worry of it falling apart upon a light touch.

He likes to leave you small gifts whenever he can. Hand-woven flower wreaths (that he spent the time learning how to do from the village girls), specially picked flower bouquets (to leave your home smelling sweet and absolutely ambrosial) and (the rarest of all) the sparkling jewelry he expertly bargains at the market.

He always kisses you slowly, lips colliding with yours ever-so-gently that his touch feels like a delicate feather. His hands brush against your hair, his body enveloping yours. The fervent warmth you feel in your heart travels up to your face. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world. And when he pulls away, he stares into your eyes, counting your eyelashes and reveling in your presence alone.

There are so many ways Namjoon showed you love.

"Come back home soon, my dear!" you'd told him as he folded up his sleeves and hung his lunch pail around his wrist.

"I will," he'd said. And he'd smiled that breathtaking smile of his—so genuine and so kind—his dimples dotting his face.

There were so many ways Namjoon showed you love. And you always felt comforted because it's the kind of language that makes you feel safe and secure.

"We will meet again at dinner!" you'd called after him as he waved from afar.

He blows you a lasting kiss that sails through the wind and caresses your cheek.

Love is a universal language.

This only means that so many others must speak it.

Yet it's been quite a long time since you've expressed it on your tongue.

Your beaming smile falters just a little as you gaze back at Namjoon sitting frozen at the wooden table. He looks so incredibly young in that photograph, dimples showing and all. But the colorless image does little to show the twinkling soft brown of his eyes and the rose-colored tinge of his cheeks. It only emphasizes the tiredness in his gaze and the sad juvenility he left behind in this world.

You just wish he'd come back to you. Come back home for dinner as he'd promised nearly three years ago. But even love can't breathe life into the souls who've been lost to the dark side. Love can't bring back those who have been engulfed in the flames of the underground—the explosions that frequent the cavernous mines in the subterrane.

You just wish you had more time with him.

More time to perfect the language of love.

—masterpost

—masterlist

#ficswithluv #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanidx #namjoon #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #joon #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #vernacular #i meant to post this like two months ago #whoops

[hobeemin]

Paint by Numbers

🎨 genre: smut, pwp, established relationship au, sol

🎨 pairing: kim taehyung x (f) reader

🎨 rating: 18+

🎨 warning(s): swearing, exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, edging, praise, fingering, thigh riding, hair pulling, creampie, unprotected sex (plz use a condom, they being horny toads), lots of dirty talk (Tae is doing the most), multiple positions, painting somehow makes them horny, tons of sexual tension

🎨 word count: 5k

🎨 credits: a HUGE thank you to @missgeniality   for looking this over. You're such a sweetheart Siya 💜💜💜

resources for banner here ~ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

🎨 a/n: was not expecting this to be so long xD i don’t think i’ll over be able to do a straight pwp. lol

Amortertia in Spring

         ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Amora through @bangtansorciere

⤐  AU Type: primrose

⤐  Themes: spring

⤐  Kinks: multiple orgasms, edging, praise, fingering, thigh riding, hair pulling, creampie

Who knew how interesting this day was going to be? 

It started simple enough. Y/N decided after a streak of bad breakups to switch to online dating to her friend’s suggestions. Though time-consuming and full of disappointments, she still kept on. But just when she decided to give up, a match appeared. Cute, charming, and easy to talk to, she gravitated towards Kim Taehyung’s infectious energy. As a well-known and upcoming artist, he spent all of his time painting, barely making any time for romance. People being discarded like old brushes. No one seemed to last long. 

That is until Y/N came along. He couldn’t help being captured by her picture at first. Reading her bio hadn’t been enough, and he swiped right, hoping for a chance. 

It didn’t take long for her to receive a message from him, and they began a witty and flirtatious banter through text. To say he was attracted to her was an understatement, and she found herself giddy each time a message would pop up. Video chatting was adorable. He saw her place as she cooked dinner, and he’d show his cute dog Yeontan napping in the sun. It was only a matter of time before you two would meet.

“I have a gig coming up. Would you like to come?” he asked one day.

Y/N leaned against the counter in her kitchen, pausing her chopping. “Oh, that’s great! What sort of gig? Is it an exhibit at an art gallery?”

Taehyung chuckled nervously into the camera. Dark curly locks framed his round, almost heart-shaped face. Piercing warm, dark brown eyes, round nose with a straight bridge, pouty lips with a prominent cupid’s bow, and ending with an accentuated jawline. To say he was a work of art was being kind.  She never got tired of seeing that boxy grin on his face. Currently, he looked a bit anxious.

“Um, sort of...it's at a club.”

Her eyes widened. “A club? That’s interesting. Are you painting the walls or bringing paintings to show off?”

“Well,” he looked away before staring back into the screen, “there’s a party they’re hosting, and they invited a few of the local artists to show off their skills.”

She bounced on her heels, giving him a grin. “That’s awesome! Of course, I’d love to go. I want to see you in action. This is exciting! I can’t wait–”

“Y/N?”

She stopped babbling and glanced back at her phone screen. “Sorry. I just got so excited.”

He smirked at her resting his hand under his chin. “No, it’s adorable. I like your little rants.” He bit his lip, unsure of how to explain the rest. “There is one more thing I wanted to ask you, though.”

“Sure!”

“Well, this isn’t a typical painting party. Um...well, it’s a neon blacklight party.”

Y/N's mouth dropped open. “Wow! I’ve never been to one of those before. Is it fun? What are you going to be painting?”

“Er...people,” he muttered.

She blinked a bit, taking in the information. People? Painting people. When she didn’t answer, he got worried.

“Y/N? Did you freeze? Everything alright?”

She glanced back at her phone screen, shaking her head. “N-No, everything is fine. Just processing everything.”

You both grew quiet as she tried to make sense of it. “So...it’s like body painting?”

He cracked a smile with a nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what it is.” He gave her a curious stare. “Would...would you be interested in being my model?”

“Oh!” Her cheeks reddened, looking away.

“I mean, only if you’re comfortable. You won’t be nude. Swimsuits are perfectly fine to wear,” he explained in a rush.

Y/N mulled over the offer as it sounded interesting, and she was never one to turn a good time. Tae gave her no indication that he was unusual–at least from your talks with one another.

What did she have to lose?

Smiling, she looked into the camera and nodded. “I’d be happy to be your model for the painting party.”

His eyes widened in surprise. He was worried Y/N would turn him down or, worse, not want to talk anymore. Taehyung liked her a lot and didn’t want to mess up his chances of getting to know her further.

“G-Great! I’ll text you the address, or we can eat prior. I’m so excited! You’ll get to meet my friends,”–she listened to him babble away, smiling fondly at him. Definitely the best decision to match with him.

He realized how long he’d been talking and grinned sheepishly. Scratching his head, he glanced at the phone. She could have sworn his eyes darkened a bit.

“I can’t wait to see you, Y/N. I’ll count the days until then. I don’t know if I can wait a week.”

“Patience is a virtue,” she teased with a giggle. “I can’t wait to see you, too.”

The week crawled along, and she tried to stay busy, preoccupying her time baking and making orders for clients. But no amount of cakes and pies could distract Y/N from her thoughts about Tae. She anxiously waited for Friday to approach, glancing at her phone almost every minute. 

He sent her a text with the address Thursday night, along with a cute picture of Yeontan.

:We can’t wait to see you soon! ^0^:

Y/N felt her heart swell, staring at the photo. Her excitement grew as the hours ticked down.

Friday night, she thanked the driver of her Lyft ride and stepped out. Even though spring was creeping out from its wintery slumber, nights were still chilly in the city. She looked at the name of the club and back at her phone. 

Neon. How fitting.

She walked closer to see that the line wrapped around the building. Tugging her coat closer to her body, she looked around for a familiar face.

“Y/N!”

She grinned at the sound of her name and spun around. There he was. Kim Taehyung in the flesh. Even more handsome than he was on a screen. He ran up to her arms open. She wrapped into his hug, almost swooning from how warm he was. The subtle notes from his cologne lulled her into a trance as she hugged him back.

Taehyung couldn’t believe she was here. He considered just whisking Y/N away instead of showing her off to everyone around. She was adorable, barely coming up to his chest. He bit his lip, seeing how rosy her cheeks had gotten from the cold.

“Let’s get you inside,” his deep voice rumbled.

Y/N lifted her head, becoming shy all of a sudden, and nodded. Taehyung led her up to the front as the doorman opened the rope, letting you both enter inside.

Her mouth dropped, looking around the club. Black lights blinked on as fog machines bellowed around the bodies. It was still time for the start of the night. Taehyung tugged her towards what looked like the VIP section. On the half-moon couch, two men sat sipping their drinks and chatting close together. They looked as Taehyung approached with Y/N in tow.

He waved to them, pulling her closer. “Y/N this is Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook. They’re artists as well.”

She smiled at each, giving a tiny wave. “Nice to meet you both,” she yelled over the music.

Yoongi nodded in acknowledgment, taking a sip from the whiskey in his highball. His vibe was extremely laid back. Dark tresses swept back under a baseball cap, wearing a simple white shirt and jeans. He looked comfortable. Jungkook, equally as attractive, had long dirty blonde locks pushed back off his face. Big doe eyes and a bunny-like grin. She sat down next to him as Tae squeezed her hand.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A vodka soda would be great,” she answered.

He smiled with a wink. “Okay. Be right back,”–he shot his friends a glare–“don’t scare her off.”

Jungkook set his eyes on her with a soft smile. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Tae won’t shut up about you. It’s nice to put a face to a name.”

Y/N blushed with a giggle. “Really? I hope it was all good things.”

Yoongi smirked, his bored expression lifting for a moment. “It was. We wondered what mystery woman had him whipped.”

Whipped?!

Jungkook elbowed Yoongi with a raised brow. He glanced back at her with a grin. “Forgive my moody boyfriend. He doesn’t know how to be social.”

She burst out laughing, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. Are you both going to paint?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Yoongi’s gonna paint me. I get to be a model for once.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t quit whining,” he groaned, glancing at the younger male. His eyes softened just a moment as he squeezed his knee. “Besides, his body looks better than mine.”

Jungkook let out a noise of protest, wrapping his arm around Yoongi’s waist. “Don’t lie, babe. I love the way you look.” He nuzzled against his neck, earning an elbow to his side.

“Not now, Kook. Focus.”

Taehyung returned, two highballs in hand. He took a seat next to her, placing the drink in her hand. “Vodka soda on the rocks.”

He touched his glass to hers before taking a sip, and she followed suit. Her taste buds came alive from the slight tang of the soda. Definitely what she needed to help with the nerves. Besides  the few glasses of red wine she’d drink in the comfort of her home; it had been a while since she had a real drink–of course, that made her alcohol tolerance drop. Once she finished the glass, her cheeks were pink from the liquor. 

She sat back, fanning herself as the beat from the current EDM song vibrated through her core. Tae glances over at Y/N with a smile. He was pleased with how well she and his friends were getting along. He watched as she joked with Jungkook and even got Yoongi to laugh as well. He smiled to himself. Just as he was about to speak, the DJ’s voice boomed over the patrons.

“Welcome artists to Paint with Neon! We’ll be getting started soon enough, so all artists and models, please head down to the main floor to set up!”

Tae wrapped his hand around hers with a grin. “Showtime.”

Heart hammering away in her chest, she followed him down the stairs into the main area. Tae gestured to a platform near the middle. “That’s my spot.”

She followed him as he brought out the paints and brushes to set up. At least ten other artists began setting up as well. Yoongi and Jungkook were on the platform right next to Tae’s spot. 

Y/N tried not to ogle Jungkook's body as he disrobed. It must have been a crime to be that unbelievably hot. His tattoos ran from his right hand,  up his arm, wrapped around his shoulder, and down his torso. 

Taehyung noticed how she stared and stepped closer. “Distracted by my friend?”

Y/N squeaked in surprise, making him laugh. He winked at her. “I’m teasing. Jungkook has a great body, but I think you’ll appreciate mine just as much.”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to blush. 

Taehyung’s smile spread as he stepped closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“Nervous?”

“A little,” she replied, eyes darting around the room.

“Y/N,”–Taehyung squeezed her hands, letting the warmth enrapture her– “focus on me. No one else matters in the place.”

Feeling a burst of confidence from him, she felt the tension drop from her shoulders. Keeping her eyes on him, she untied the belt around her waist, undoing the buttons on the front of the coat. It dropped off her shoulders to reveal a two-piece bikini. Taehying tried not to let his mouth drop as he stared. She was gorgeous. Biting his lip, he took her coat and propped it on a barstool. 

With his assistance, Y/N jumped onto the platform.

"Where would you like me?"

Taehyung gave her a wink nudging his chin at the pole in the middle. "Right near that pole. You can hold onto it."

Nodding, she got into place as the patrons scrambled around to get a good view. Yoongi turned to Tae, giving a slight salute with his paintbrushes. He smirked and turned his attention to her.

The DJ began to play a hypnotic beat making the onlookers dance. “Begin painting now!”

Tae dipped his brush into a pot field with indigo pigment. “Relax, Y/N.”

She gave him a reassuring smile, and he started to drag the brush over her skin. Cool to the touch, she tried to keep still. Her eyes darted around, observing the other artists paint. Each engrossed in their work. It was interesting to see how each began their process. Her eyes dragged back to Taehyung. He was crouched down, working on her legs.

Taehyung’s touch was gentle as he painted her skin. His brows knitted in concentration, he focused on creating what he hoped was something to be proud to show off. Especially since she was the art piece in question, he stuck his tongue out in concentration,  grabbing a darker blue and blended the colors. The colors swirled together. People gasp at the progress of the works. Taehyung looked up, checking in on her with a boxy grin.

“Doing alright, Y/N?”

She hummed in response, shooting him a sly grin; it only heightened her beauty. He always wanted to make her smile like that. Taehyung dipped his brush into the silver paint, mixing it with white as he painted on her stomach. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh from the bristles tickling her. Still, Y/N fought through as Taehyung continued painting on her back. His fingers brushed her hair off her shoulder, making goosebumps form. He noticed the slight shiver from her pausing his motions.

“Almost done Y/N. Just putting on the finishing touches.”

“Time is almost winding down! Artists, please complete your paintings!”

He chuckled, adding a few touches here and there. Satisfied with his work, he set his brushes down. Taehyung stepped off the platform holding out his hand for him to take. The crowd let out an audible gasp. She caught her reflection on one of the pillars, and her jaw dropped. Taehyung painted the night sky. Swirls of blues and purples with the stars stretched across her body. Even the Milky Way made an appearance.

She was speechless. Glancing at Tae, She felt her heartbeat loud in her chest. 

“Tae, this is so beautiful. I-I don’t even know what to say.”

He pulled her close to him with a smirk. “I think a kiss is a sufficient thanks.”

Her eyes darkened as she stared into his eyes, the desire apparent between them. Anyone could see that Taehyung wanted her. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, earning a low moan from him. He pulled her body flush against his own as he deepened the kiss. The heat was rising as their impromptu makeout session commenced; not a care in the world except the two of them in that little bubble. It wasn’t until a patron bumped into YN that their kiss broke. The dance floor became invaded with bodies writhing to the music as the black lights flashed, making the painted bodies stand out.

Jungkook ran over with Yoongi in tow. His body was painted in a mountainscape overlooking a beautiful lake. “You look great, Jungkook!” she shouted over the music. He gave a nod of thanks bending down to peck Yoongi on the cheek. 

“He did a great job.”

Yoongi tried to hide the gummy smile that tried to break the surface. Jungkook pulled him into a dance, making the older male oblige his amusements. Taehyung brought her attention back, his hand on her waist as he pulled her flush against him. Y/N squealed softly, looking up at him. 

“Before we were so rudely interrupted,” he smirked, running his thumb over her bottom lip, making his gaze darken once more. “I think we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves.”

“I think so too,” she said while twirling some of his dark curly locks with her fingers. 

He let out a groan staring down at her. Kissing her wasn’t going to be enough. They had enough chemistry between each other to know that. Just as Tae leaned in for another kiss, foam burst from machines covering everybody on the dance floor.

“Foam party!” The music blasted loud as people cheered.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she and Taehyung were covered head to toe in suds. “This is one way to get clean.”

He winked, biting his lip. “Or, I could assist in getting this pesky paint off you.”

Her eyes widened as he stared. Yes, there was definite sexual tension between them. Hell, she let him paint her body while she was half-naked. The beat changed, making bodies grind closer. Nothing was getting in between the pair. They only had eyes for each other in the crowd. Y/N turned around, backing up against Taehyung’s chest. His fingers danced upon her skin as they rested on her hips.

His breath hitched as he felt her ass brush his crotch. He let out a needy moan. Pressing himself close to her, he followed her lead with the rhythm of the music. Y/N let herself go, letting her inhibitions run rampant. Whether it be the alcohol or that she was in a bikini covered in body paint. There was one thing she was sure about: being in Taehyung’s arms felt so right. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

And that kiss. It left her breathless. She wanted him plain and simple. 

Her partner was feeling similar emotions as they danced. It was getting more challenging to keep his composure, but he didn’t want to do anything without her say so. Honestly, Taehyung would have been content with just making out with her all night. The fact they were even together, and she agreed to let him paint her, made him feel like this was the best night of his life. 

He wanted her to determine how the rest of the night would lead. 

It didn’t take long, and Y/N twisted her body to face Taehyung. She cocked her head to the side as they walked off the dance floor back to their seats. She promptly found her place in his lap, straddling him on the couch. Taehyung’s eyes grew wide as they stared at one another. Y/N placed both hands on each side of his face before pressing her lips once more. Taehyung wrapped his arms around her waist, closing the distance. The franticness of the kiss only made them more aroused. Just the thought of them being so intimate in public gave Y/N a rush. She felt herself clench at the thought. Taehyung groaned into the kiss, feeling his cock harden. 

Through the flimsy bikini, Y/N felt his length press against her, causing her body to tremble. He was pretty adequate. She’d have a challenge if they decided to take the next step. They broke apart, breathing hard. Flushed from the heat, they both rested for a moment. He licked his lips as the lust in his eyes grew more assertive. He knew, and she knew this wasn’t going to be enough.

Y/N bent down, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. Tae let out a hiss, gripping her back.

“My place or yours?” 

“I don’t think we’ll make it home,” he whispered, dragging his tongue over her pulse point. 

Y/N shivered in his arms. Her body molding to his. Was this happening? 

Yes. Yes, it is. 

Taehyung placed his hands on the small of her back, bringing her close to him. He nuzzled against her neck with a low moan.

“Damn it, Y/N. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now.”

She gripped his shirt, keening into his touches, her body already hot. She let out a whimper as his lips scorched across her neck, nibbling, sucking, teasing. Tae cupped her asscheeks, placing her over his length, erect and ready for her. They let out a collective sigh as they touched; her hips were grinding against his. Tae was losing it over her movements. He didn’t know how long he’d last at this rate. His teeth tugged on her ear, nibbling it before moving his lips.

“Bet you wanted this? Me taking you right here? Thought of anyone catching us is exciting, huh?”

“F-Fuck Tae,” she hissed against him.

His smirk dark, he removed one hand from her back, toying with the strings of her bottoms. “Can I?”

Y/N met his gaze and nodded slowly.

“Words, baby. I need you to tell me what you want,” he directed.

“T-Touch me, please,” she pouted.

Taehyung licked his lips as he tugged the string apart on one side. He brought his fingers up to her mouth, circling them slowly.

“I can’t get enough of your lips,” he moaned. Y/N’s eyes glinted with mischief as her tongue slipped past her lips to swipe his digits. Even his fingers were beautiful.

She leaned down, placing the middle and index between her lips, sucking them slowly. Tae’s head rolled back as he stared with hooded eyes observing her. Damn, that was hot. When her tongue swirled around his fingers, he bucked his hips up, squeezing her side hard. 

“Fuck, Y/N...k-keep doing that. Fuck...right there...Shit!”

He slipped his fingers from her mouth, practically vibrating with want. He took his fingers, dragging them on her skin, the paint already streaked from the suds used the foam. He pushed her bikini bottoms to the side as his thumb brushed her slit, making him bite back a moan.

“So wet already, Y/N. What to do with you?” he teased.

He tilted his head from side to side, garnering her reaction. Y/N tried to keep her composure. After all, if anyone decided to look up where they were, they’d get a front-row seat.

At that very moment, Y/N could care less if anyone saw. Just the thought of his fingers slipping past her folds was sending her into a frenzy. Too much time had passed since the last time she was intimate with anyone. She was horny, plain and simple. 

And Taehyung was going to solve that problem for her. 

Taehyung spread his legs farther, getting comfortable as a needy moan fell from her lips. He looked delicious sitting there against the cushions, fingers brushing her sex. He was going to make her speak.

“Be filthy. Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

Y/N leaned into his fingers, trying to please herself, and he pulled them away, resting his hand on her thigh. She let out a soft whimper as a pout formed.

“I-I want your fingers...inside me,” she said, her tone calm.

“I know you can do better than that,” he taunted, sticking his tongue out.

Her cheeks reddened, watching him as he stared at her in amusement. “I-I want you to make cum from just your fingers. Ride them until I cream all over them...lick it off and have you fuck me from behind....grab my hair while you tell me how much of a good girl I am,” she described in detail.

His mouth dropped open, his calm exterior almost disappearing. He was not expecting that. It didn’t take him long to gripped the back of her head, crushing her lips to his. His fingers set to work, finding her steaming cunt, wet and ready for him. Sucking on her tongue, he slipped two fingers inside her pussy, thumbing on her clit.

Y/N scrambled to grab his arms, keeping herself steady as he pumped at a painstakingly slow pace. She used his arms to anchor herself as she rutted herself against his fingers, breath hot as she tried to keep quiet. Their kiss broke away as she rested her head forward on his as their collective sounds muted the sound of his fingers in her sex.

“Fuck Y/N...so wet..so tight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Taehyung,” she purred in his ear, making the man growl as he flicked her clit.

“My name sounds too good on your lips,” he whispered, finding a spot on her collar to suckle, making a hickey appear.

Slipping his fingers from her sex, he placed them in his mouth, reveling at the taste. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste. Looking at her, he kissed her once more, nibbling on her lower lip.

“I don’t think I want you to cum yet,” he said.  Smirking, he adjusted their position, having her straddle his thigh.

He gripped her hair, causing her to keen into it. “Ride my thigh,” he ordered.

She shivered at the material of his pants, causing friction. Her clit throbbed as she grinded against him. His lips went back on her neck, littering it with marks as he squeezed and spread her ass, making her go faster.

“Such a naughty girl. Getting off on just my thigh. I haven’t even fucked you yet, and you wanna cum so bad.”

“P-Please, please...Taehyung, I want...fuck...cum...p-please,” she begged, moving faster on his thigh.

“Do it...cum on my thigh, baby,” he growled softly. 

Y/N cried out as the wave building crashed all at once, pausing her movements as she shook to the very core. She collapsed against his chest, white spots in front of her eyes as she tried to calm her breathing—all from just riding his thigh. Taehyung felt the wet patch on his thigh, making him groan. Watching her come undone turned him on even more. 

As she came down from her high, she could hear Taehyung pulling down the zipper of his pants, fumbling to get his cock out. She pulled away to look down, and her jaw dropped. How the hell was she going to ride that?!

Just the response he wanted. He stroked himself, staring at her.

“Like what you see?”

Y/N nodded slowly, still in a state of shock. Even his cock was beautiful. The perfect girth–at least to her–and length. Precum dribbled from the head, coating his cock. Without breaking eye contact, Y/N took her finger and swirled it around the head, coating her fingertip in his cum. She brought it to her lips and licked her finger clean.

Taehyung let out an animal-like grunt and smashed his lips to her, tongue probing her mouth to taste himself on her. That kiss was anything but pure. The dirtiness of it was sloppy. He licked her lips slowly with a moan.

“You are something else,” he commented while taking her by the hips, her entrance brushing his head.

Y/N dug her nails into his shoulders as she sank on his shaft. Both let out a sigh of relief at finally being joined. He stretched her so much she had to remain still. The sting eventually subsided, and she was left feeling full.

“Oh, Tae,” she stuttered, trying her best not to shift around.

Just from the way her walls gripped him, he wasn’t sure how’d he last. Hell, he wondered with this much pent-up energy how he’d been able to last this long. Y/N had him wrapped around her pinky. He kissed her shoulder and ran his hands up her spine in small circles.

“Shit. I won’t move until you’re ready, baby.”

“M-Move,” she pleaded.

His hands cupped her backside, sliding her up and down his length. The sounds of their lovemaking fell on deaf ears as the music thumped in the background. Whether it was from the bass or Taehyung’s mellow tone in her ear, she was entirely under the spell of the moment. He tugged her hair back to his up her neck biting down on the flesh as she writhed on top of him.

Once she caught the rhythm, Y/N wasted no time bouncing faster on top, changing it up ever so often. Taehyung laid back, helping her ride him. He watched as his cock disappeared between her folds.

“Look how you swallow me up. F-Fuck Y/N gonna make me cum in this pretty pussy. You want that?”

He jerked his hips with punctuating each word. She was coming undone. He could feel her walls quivering around him, and it was only a matter of time.

“W-Where do you want it,” he gasped out.

“Inside,” she cried. “Fill me, Tae...I need it.”

“Fuck Y/N. You’re perfect,” he cooed.

He picked her up, switching their positions on the couch, her bent over as he took her from behind, balls smacking against her pussy, his hands finding her breast pulling up the bikini top to tweak her nipples. He thrust into her, moaning in her ear as they moved in tandem. 

“I need to cum...T-Tae, let me cum, please.”

“Oh baby cum all over me,” he growled.

Her pussy gripped him, and he groaned, watching as she let the second orgasm hit her body; her body shook as he felt her arousal coat his shaft and drip down his balls. That was it for Tae. He bit her shoulder as hips snapped, thrusts sloppy as he erupted deep into her cunt, coating her with his release.

No sounds were made between except the breaths they tried to catch. Tae rested his head on her shoulder, stroking her sides, waiting for her to move.

Y/N lifted her head, squeezing his leg, and he nodded, pulling out with care. Some of his cum dripped from her entrance, making him lick his lips. But the exhaustion set in as he helped her back into clothing. Y/N dropped into his arms as they sat on the couches in silence. Tae stroked her hair off her face, a smile lingering on his face.

“Did we do that?”

Y/N chuckled with a nod. “I believe so.”

“Any regrets?”

“None,” she answered with a reassuring smile.

“Same,” he said, kissing her forehead. “How about I grab your coat, and we get out of here? I think we’ve earned ourselves a hot bath.”

She nodded, giving him a quick on the lips. “Only if you wash my back.”

“It’s a deal.”

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[ditttiii]

gold rush. || kth {m}

⇢ summary: kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch? 

⇢ genre: porn with feelings, soft smut, angst, is unresolved tension and feelings a genre?

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇢ word count: 4.4k

⇢ rating: explicit / 18+

⇢ theme: strangers to lovers, s2l!au

⇢warning/s: public/elevator sex, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (female receiving), lots of kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex? reader’s on the pill, swearing, tension and so much of it, unresolved-repressed feelings, taehyung is a certified dingus & reader is hopelessly smitten. 

⇢ a/n: betaed by @yeojaa​ who owns my heart and is the most precious bean ever. 

also have all my virtual, socially distanced cuddles @btsmosphere​ @papillonsgf​ @birbdae​ & @unoriginal-username15432​. if it weren’t for their support this wouldn’t be out today. my gratitude knows no bounds ♡ also big thanks to taylor for the fic title.

banner by @chillingkoo​ & moodboard by @today-we-will-survive​​ their art breathed life into this fic ♡ a belated birthday fic for one mr.kim taehyung & the beautiful @kerikaaria​.  this fic is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub​ january monthly project. 

lastly, i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy it x 2021 here v go ♡

You wonder when the shame stopped making you hide behind a curtain of messy bed hair. When the smell of a man's cologne on you and a fruity fragrance on him started to feel normal; routine.

 The elevator closes with a 'ping', and your eyes track the numbers as they descend, the warmth of another human, the soft puffs of his breath, warming your shivering, scantily dressed body.

 "What happened to ‘she’s too old for me?’ " You grunt, slipping off your six inches of agony inducing footwear and pushing them to a corner.

 "What happened to you not being jealous?" You can feel his smirk, oozing of self-assured nonchalance and smugness that would seem ugly on anyone but fits like a well-tailored suit on him. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he leans back, hands resting on the metal railing while his tall, lean body slouches lazily, almost invitingly, and you have to force your eyes away from tracing the curves of his pecs. It's a tempting sight, but you aren't about to give him any more ammo to goad you with. As it is, he already knows too much, is far too keen. 

 "Of your sugar mama? I don't think so."

 Taehyung hums but doesn't refute the statement and the silence between you two stretches on. A burning ball of jealousy in your stomach continues to eat away at your peace, and with a clenched jaw, you allow your head to rest against the cool metal of the elevator and pretend that the proximity doesn't affect you. 

 It's always the same between you two, a constant game of tug and war, where one pulls too firmly, and then the other comes tumbling close until one of you comes back to your senses and then it's back to square one. Back to bickering and recounting the previous night’s escapades of half-truths and lies told from kiss-swollen lips and hooded gazes as you try your best to rile the other one up.

 It's stupid. You are in your twenties and this isn't like you. The lying, the pretence that you are still seeing your ex-boyfriend and biting and sucking your own lip until it swells; until you look properly ravished; none of this is you.

 You should have known the day he first stumbled into the elevator with a half-buttoned shirt and bite marks painted over the pale skin of his neck, a satisfied smirk curled on his dark pink lips, that he wasn't good for you. But no, like the absolute fool that you are, you fell for him. Fell knowing full well he wasn't yours to have, that back then you weren't his to have.

 The elevator comes to a stop with a shudder. Your eyes, closed sometime during the descent, snap open and your feet pause when the sight of the closed doors grace you.

 "You stopped the elevator." It's not a question, not when his hand is still hovering over the stop button, head tilted as his eyes stay trained on you.

 "I did." He admits to a question you never asked.

 Biting back a hiss at his insistence on being difficult, you twist on your heels, lips pulled into a smile whose edges sting like shards of a broken glass and parry, "And why did you do that, pray tell?"

 He doesn't answer, just looks at you with that half-lidded gaze and his silence only infuriates you more, makes the back of your neck feel heated as an angry flush rises from your chest all the way up to your cheeks and with a few angry stomps you’re in Taehyung's space, barely a few inches left between you two.

 "God!" You start, and the anger, the jealousy, the ugly ball of insecurity and lust and something you haven't quite found a name for yet all coagulate and rise up your throat, burning your heart in their wake until you are hurting and seething. “I don’t get you, nor do I want to anymore!" The words tumble out, one after another and half thought out but your chest still burns and the ugly ball still feels scorching hot in your throat and you can't bring yourself to stop, to shut up and think. "Stop doing this. Stop flirting with me and stop looking at me with those hooded eyes of yours and for the love of god, do you really need to lick your lip that often? Why don't you carry a lip balm if your lips are that dry, huh?"

 The cross of your eyes is almost painful, but you have started and fuelled by anger and unreciprocated feelings there’s no stopping your steam. "And now this! Stopping the elevator! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" His lips part as if to answer but without waiting for his response, you plow on, "What! Do you actually have an answer? Really? Let's face it; you think I’m some sort of challenge that needs to be conquered. Another notch on your bedpost. You and your stupid smirks and half-lidded eyes and that damn mole on your nose and god, can you just not—"

 The soft pad of his finger on your lips pauses your rant, leaves them parted and your heart hammering while unsaid words clutter the hollow spaces in your throat, tighten around your vocal cords like a noose until they become their own nemesis. 

 "I broke up with her last night," Taehyung says, and from where you are standing so close to him, his breath on your neck, cheeks, lips is too enchanting, too much like something you had hoped and begged and prayed for far too long now. Breathing out harshly you blink yourself back to reality because you must be hearing him wrong. 

  "Huh?"

 His hand slowly comes up to hold your chin, thumb running over your lower lip with a feather-like touch, "I broke up with her last night, went home and came back early because I didn't want to miss you." He says, and your chest feels tight, palms numb and it's only when his hand gently settles over the nape of your neck and you inhale painfully that you realise that you had stopped breathing.

 "Why?" You rasp out. 

  Don't hope. This means nothing. Do not hope. 

 Something twists in your belly, a thread tightens around your heart, and you know, despite it all, that you are hoping. 

 "Why do you think?" He asks instead, and you stifle the sudden desire to bash his head into a wall. 

 "Don't play games with me." 

 A sigh, his breath dancing on your lips and you barely suppress the tingles that burn down your spine, "I'm not. I don't want to, not anymore." The hand resting around your neck curls, fingers caressing the soft skin behind your ear.

 "What do you want then?" Your words are quiet, hope and longing laced into every syllable that you desperately hope to hide but fail. 

 Your heart hammers into your ribs with so much force you are half afraid it will leave them cracked; splintered just like your love for the man who is touching you, holding your entire heart in the palm of his hands while you wait for it to be crushed. Because it will, it's inevitable. Kim Taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. All narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is too good. Too good for the woman he was with and certainly too good for you. You would be happy if you looked half as good on your wedding day as he regularly does because he is that gorgeous. And unreal, and pretty and it hurts. 

 It hurts because you can never have him and any second now he will push you away and ridicule you for getting flustered so easily and he will never understand, and god it cuts. It tears at you because despite knowing better, you long for him, his touch, his warmth.

 Maybe even his love. But that is one hope you refuse to acknowledge out loud. 

 Your breaths mingle from where you two are standing so close, and part of you aches to reach out, to pull him closer and wrap yourself around him until you can sync the beat of your heart to his, to nestle your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in, drown in the scent of that spicy cologne that you associate with him and nobody else. Because it's tempting, oh so inviting and he is so so close.

 You could touch his chest, caress the skin peeking from in between the dip of his low neck shirt and it would be easy, he would let you, you know that too but what about after? How do you come back from holding someone your soul is in love with and then pretend that being with them for one night was enough? How does your hope keep living on in the name of that fragment of love? His arms your shelter for one night and then you are back to being strangers, sharing elevators and bumping into each other at the grocery store, pretending all the while that you do not yearn to visit that one night you spent together whenever your head hits the pillow? 

 "I..." Taehyung struggles, chews the words before his lips form them because this is his last chance and if he loses you now, it's over; he knows that too. The pair of you are done playing cat and mouse. 

 "I know my words don't hold a whole lot of value. I could promise you things, but you won't believe me and that's fair. I get it." He admits, another hand coming up until your face is cradled in his open palms, fingers slipping behind the edges of your ears and you will yourself to not drop your gaze, to look into his eyes and search for...love? Honesty? You wish you could say you know what it is that you are hunting for, but held so close all you can think about is the chestnut brown of his eyes, the black that rims them, the high arched brows and the thin, smooth lips and that mole; that mole that you can only see when you are pressed close, a hair's breadth of space between you two. 

 "But...?" You ask, pray, and yet again, against your better judgement hope.

 "But I love you." He confesses, voice forever rich and deep and you feel the hum of his baritone from where your chest is still pulled tight to his. "My love for you is unlike any I have ever known, and it scared me; it still scares me because I don't know. I don't know what I will do if I ever lose you. I care too much, I—" His grip on you tightens and instinctively your hands snake around his waist, clenching the soft cotton of his shirt, nails biting into your skin as his words thread your hopelessly lovesick heart back together; piece by piece.

 "I love you too much." Taehyung whispers and the ice around your heart thaws, his raw confession lighting a fire in your nerves until you are left buzzing from the high of his admission. "Trust me. Just this once. Please." He is vulnerable in his plea, and for the first time you wonder if you had characterised him wrong. Boxed and stored him like a gift on a shelf without bothering to look underneath the paper wrapping.

 Taehyung doesn't have to beg, he doesn't have to try and persuade anyone, and for all the gibes you threw his way, all the daggered words about him dating only for money, you didn't truly believe any of them. Sure, the woman he had been with for the last few months was older (a voice in your head whispers wiser), but that wasn't because she was, as you would often insist, his 'sugar mama', but instead because their interests aligned. Kim Taehyung is a man of taste, whether it be his fondness for a violin's trill, fascination with modern art, or his love for jazz music. He is an enigma and with no small amount of embarrassment you think back to all the times you have bought a book after he made a passing comment on it, searched the pages and the characters to find some semblance of him.

 Maybe you are pathetic, perhaps you are far too infatuated with this man for it to be healthy. Just maybe...

 "No," Taehyung commands, his voice so determined you’re snapped back to the present, head thrown out of the haze your wandering thoughts had created.

 Seeing your obscure expression and strayed eyes (look away because you can't acknowledge how much he matters), he pushes, one hand sliding down to grip your chin and urge you to look him in the eye. "Don't." 

 Maybe he sees something in your eyes, spots your hidden insecurities, reads you like an open book and dog-ears the pages that hold your weakness. 

 "Don't what?" You deflect, gaze drifting away again as you pretend to not know what he means but secretly long for him to keep pushing, to keep trying—your denial’s a facade to hide all your pleas. 

 "Don't do this to me. To us."  

 "You'll hurt me." You protest, a half-hearted attempt at trying to protect your already doomed heart even as your fingers clench tighter, pull him closer.

 "No, I won't." He speaks with certainty that you don't wholly believe but fuelled by far too much love and longing, you don't protest any further and instead toe closer, rise higher, and breathe in the shaky exhale he lets out when your lips skim the sharp curve of his jaw. 

 "I've wanted this for so long." Unadulterated desire courses through your veins at his admission. Even if Taehyung is lying, even if he leaves you stranded after today, you'll live. You'll live on the high of this moment, the memory of his skin under your touch, the crisp of the cotton draped over his lean torso. 

 It's easier to let go and surrender yourself, easier to lay yourself bare because you have already come too far and there is no protecting yourself anymore—your heart is now his to do with.

 Your hands twine around his waist, slide over the vast expanse of his back like he is yours; as though if you try hard enough, you'll leave an imprint, a sign that he belongs to you. Mark him for the rest of eternity and brand him with your name on his heart. 

 Kissing him is easy, the slight ache of staying on your tippy-toes going by unregistered as you get lost in the sensation of his lips, his sighs on your chin, the tickle of his lashes against the high curve of your cheek. 

 The cradle of his palms around your face is gentle, almost careful, as though you are a porcelain doll and he is afraid one harsh move will leave you splintered. Chest tight, you push down the last remaining traces of hesitation clinging inside your throat and twist to catch his lips instead, licking a long strip from the soft cleft of his chin over to his parted lips, dip into the hollow of his mouth and slide over the soft flesh on the inside before you catch his upper lip in between yours and suck.

 His responding groan has you clenching your thighs and you break the kiss, breathing in to replenish the oxygen that doesn't seem as important when his lips are on yours. When your gaze catches his, for once you don't look away, don't force yourself to stop from swimming in the beautiful, clear pool of his eyes.

 "I love you too." Your admission is quiet, more a careful whisper than anything else, as though any louder and you'll break this spell and things will go back to the way they were. He will come to his senses and realise he doesn't love you after all and then you'll go back to being a pining, lovesick fool, only this time with a broken heart and no hope to cling to.

 His eyes grow soft—gentle in the curve of two crescent moons, and you smile your first real smile, the edges twitching and pulling into a gentle grin before you can bite it down and the answering smile that Taehyung rewards you with has your heart squeezing almost painfully inside your chest.

 "Yeah?" He asks as though he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it again, profess your love for him again and you do. You say it again and again, press your lips over every inch of his face and emboss the words onto the smooth, unblemished skin.

 Taking in a shuddering breath, you answer from around the suspended ball of disbelief and love in your throat. "Yeah." 

 When the clothes start coming off it’s a gentle, slow affair, the spaces in between filled with tender touches curious to explore the skin that they had desired for so long and open-mouthed kisses pressing promises of forever and happily ever after onto the naked expanse, leaving goosebumps in their wake.  

 Legs twined around his waist like ivy, you arch off the floor. A tug of your hand and his shirt slips low, and then your mouth is pressing warm, wet, kisses, tongue slipping out and desperately tasting his skin, his sweat— him. You lean back and then he's on you, low, low, low until his lips are close enough to skim the edges of your panties and you buckle, arch and push without meaning to as you ache for relief only he can provide. 

 "You are beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen." 

 His words are rough, less speech and more growl as he pushes his head closer to your soaking heat and inhales. "Fuck." 

 Breathes turning to hitches, words into gasps, you can scarcely keep your eyes open when he runs a long, slim finger through your folds and circles your wet opening before your walls are pulsing around him, sucking and pulling the finger in as deep as it will go. One and two then three, your cunt can't have enough of his fingers, his heat and him and oh— 

 His lips are velvet against your clit, your body a molten mass of gold moulding itself around his fingers, your sanity and restraint slipping and dripping down onto the carpeted floor from in between the spaces. With the last left strength, you prop yourself onto your elbows and the sight of Taehyung's mouth on your sex is almost enough to send you slipping back down again. His tongue laves across your folds with the desperation of a man parched, caressing every fold, greedily licking away your dripping arousal and moaning out obscenities too vulgar for how early the day is. 

 When you come, it's with a cry that sounds too animalistic to be yours. One that comes from your chest and leaves your back arched like the ends of a boomerang. "Good?" He asks with glistening lips, and you wanna scream, hysterical in your pitch— good? Is there anything better that exists in this world than his lips on you making you come? Again and again, until you can no longer stand the sensitivity? 

 But instead of screaming, or shaking him by his shoulders until it gets through his head, you reply with a spent nod and let your elbows slip. This is what being eaten out by Kim Taehyung feels like. The pleasure coursing through your veins is something far more potent than any you have ever felt before. The blood in your veins thrumming, almost sizzling under the thin layer of your skin. 

 He presses his forehead to yours, rests to catch his breath and with every shuddery inhale you breathe your arousal in, a swipe of your tongue across his glistening lips, and then you can taste it too. It tastes of nothing and yet everything. Coming from his lips, it tastes of what your dreams are built from, like liquified recklessness and yearning and above all —Taehyung. 

 It tastes of him and his smirks and all the kisses you couldn't have and all the kisses you now hope for. 

 His fingers are gentle when they tuck your hair, eyes bright behind the curtain of messy, ink-black strands, "There's a law somewhere that says when you love someone with all your heart, you are unavoidably loved by them as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona." 

 Your eyes search his, frantically rove all over his face, search the lines under his eyes, pause at the small mole on his nose, and then stop at the sight of the one on his lower lip, the one that your eyes would always drift to every time he'd smirk or grin in the past. Now he's smiling, lips stretched into a soft boxy curve, the mole evident against the edge and you raise a trembling hand, run your thumb across it. Cup his face with both your hands until your vision blurs and then your lips are on his. Locking and licking and your mouth is a leaking faucet of I love you's, hands working to the back of his head and getting lost in those perfectly long, wavy strands. 

 You hope this is the real thing when you wildly take off your dress, rip off his shirt unmindful of the last few buttons that clatter to the floor and undress until the both of you are as bare as you were the day you were born.

 The steel railing is startlingly cold against your rear but before you can wince Taehyung's large hands are on your waist, pulling you closer until all that's on your mind is the feel of him, hard and hot against your dripping heat. His mouth is on your breast, lips sucking marks into the flesh and tying you to him, leaving traces of his presence behind until you can no longer differentiate the ache in your heart from the burn in your belly. 

 Somehow through the haze of want and compulsive need, you collect yourself enough to tell him you're on the pill when he remembers the lack of protection in his wallet, and then he's inside you. The thrust inside is fluid, and you are moaning, keening at your wetness, at how long he is, at how unbearably, entirely full you are. 

 Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, like the last words of a man dying an untimely death, desperate and hurried and like if he takes a second too long he might never get the chance again. The scratch of your nails against his back must hurt, the grip of your heels around his sides must be painful, and still you can't bring yourself to let up; to let go. 

 The air inside becomes humid, reeks of sex and sweat and everything that shouldn't seem so right, and yet does. 

 You come first, hit your peak and crash through it like a ship in a torrential sea, hot and volatile and like something vital that you'll retain even in the afterlife. Taehyung–sweet, sweet Taehyung – helps you ride it out, makes your body sing with the honed practice of a pianist who has spent more decades playing than he can recall. His tongue is on your neck, stroking that one sensitive spot in the hollow of your clavicle while his hand brushes your clit, builds the pleasure and lets it drift, unhurried and soft until you are crying from the overwhelming rightness of it. 

 With a shudder, you finally push his hand away from your quivering heat and bring it to your lips, kiss the bony knuckles and let it rest on your thigh from where he wraps it tight around your waist and drives to chase his own high. 

 Sated you watch Taehyung, catalogue all the features that you had never seen before but up close can. Just in case—just. File them all in a part of your heart where only he resides, a piece you will always come back to, regardless of if the man in your arms chooses to stay or not. You will be selfish with these memories, hoard and treasure them in secrecy until the day you can look back upon them with nothing more than nostalgic fondness. 

 The appearance of a deep furrow on his forehead, between those long arched brows and the breaking rhythm of his thrusts, alerts you to how close he is and you clench. Clench with all the love and devotion you nurture in your heart and hope that somehow it will be enough. If not forever, then at least until you can have your fill, until you can love him for a life's worth and live off on those memories. Live on them like a late mother's half-finished perfume bottle that you take out and sniff on your sorriest days, a push strong enough to keep you going. 

 One more day, then one more and then just one more until you can finally meet him in the afterlife, old and having done all that you had been sent to do. Except for love. You doubt you can ever love like this again. 

 Kissing him after feels like the best kind of heartbreak because you know, somewhere deep in your gut where you house your intuition and insecurities, you know this won't last. 

 Yet you wouldn't take back anything. Your lips form words on Taehyung's shoulder 'i love you so much. i always will', and you tighten your arms around his waist. Anchor him to the present and pray that the defence will be strong enough to keep him with you for a little while more. 

 Just a little.

a/n: the end is up to your interpretation, you are free to imagine whatever end you’d have liked to see. If you enjoyed reading this please let me know through comments, reblogs, tags or asks. the feedback makes me insanely happy and i love hearing from you guys ♡

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung fanfiction #taehyung x reader #ficswithluv #networkbangtan #btsghostie #bangtanarmynet #bangtanfairygarden #btsguild #thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #btswriterscollective #vantaenet #kim taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #v smut #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #strangers to lovers #s2l!taehyung #taehyung fanfiction #bangtanidx

[written-in-flowers]

Over Steaks and Wine

Pairing: Jin x Jungkook

Genre: Smut, Angst/ Rating: M 

Word Count: 18k

Summary: Jungkook joined ‘Jin’s Kitchen’ to future his culinary career. He never expected to develop feelings for his boss, Kim Seokjin. 

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of BTS in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you

Warning/Tags: cannibalism, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder, mentions torture, graphic depictions of violence, blood kink, anal sex, oral sex, rimming, exhibitionism, public sex, public blow jobs, boss/employee relationship, 

A/N: Wanted to thank @voiceswithoutlips for once again beta reading this fic for me. you’re a gem <3 and @erotikkook for doing the header!! Love you loads too <3

This is also for my bingo square “Jin x Jungkook” for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event! ​

AO3 / Masterlist

***

"Hi, welcome to Jin's Kitchen. How may I help you?"

Jungkook gazed around nervously as he walked up to the podium. The host, a bespectacled man in black, gave him a dimpled smile. His eyes lit up, recognizing him. 

"Jungkook!" Namjoon beamed brightly. "What’s up? You’re here for your interview?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Jimin told me to just come up front and ask for Jin?”

“Jin’s the owner, and he likes to handle the interviews himself.” He leaned over the podium to him, “He told you what he might ask you, right? You’re gonna be working in the kitchen, and Jin doesn’t let just anybody in there.”

“He told me he’d ask me to make something for him, so I picked my best dish to make.” 

“Hm, that might work. I mean, I’ve eaten your food before, but Jin is like...the fucking Gordon Ramsay of this world. He’s picky, he’s critical, and he can be a bit blunt sometimes.” He then added, “If he completely tears your dish apart, don’t take it personally. This place has a reputation, and Jin takes it very, very seriously.” 

Namjoon called for someone nearby, and Jimin appeared. In a crisp white shirt, a black tie and pants, Jungkook noted the small apron around his tiny waist. He kept his dark hair around his face prettily, a sweet smile bringing up the corners of his eyes. 

“Jungkookie!” he called, taking a moment to hug him. “You’re here on time. I told him you would be.” He looked him over, “And dressed to impress, huh?”

Jungkook had chosen a black shirt and pants, hoping to God it’d be enough. “I thought I’d go with something simple. My uncle always dressed in plain clothes in the kitchen back home, so I thought all cooks wore this...do they not? Should I change?” 

Jimin chuckled, “Oh please, no. Jin doesn’t care about that stuff; as long as you cook well, I’m sure you can show up in a chicken suit and he won’t say anything.”

“Eh, he might say something about the feathers,” joked Namjoon, checking through the reservation list on his tablet. “Anyways, you guys know where he is. I’d hurry if I were you. It’s Saturday.” 

Jungkook nodded his thanks, and followed Jimin into the restaurant. Crimson wallpaper decorated with vines of black flowers went around the room, matching the dark carpeting under his feet. The tables covered with fine white cloth were topped by floral and candle centerpieces; the lights above gave the room a warm glow. The customers were well-dressed, and the china looked expensive. Compared to this, his uncle’s restaurant seemed like a dingy diner. He turned to one side of the room where a stage was set up. A band played a jazzy tune while a handsome, young man in a sparkling jacket crooned into his microphone. He followed Jimin past the crowded bar to the kitchen doors. 

The world changed once he stepped into the kitchen. Behind the pass, Jungkook saw a team of cooks at work. He saw one man working on the meat station, flipping steaks and chopping up cooked beef. Another woman mixed white pieces of flesh in a marinade, then set it aside to start working on another dish with another woman. Fire, steam, and voices filled the large kitchen. Waiters and waitresses came up to the pass, checking the tickets, picking up the finished plates and then leaving to go back to the dining area. Jungkook suddenly felt alive. The sense of urgency filled him, looking at it all from the other side. He’d been inside kitchens for as long as he could remember; he had never felt more at home than in a kitchen. 

this place is huge,” Jungkook said to Jimin, seeing a man stir a red sauce in a pot. “And he runs this whole place?”

“Yup. He’s the best. Now, where is he?” He looked through the pass for a moment, then said, “Ah, over there.”

Jimin pointed out a man in a white chef’s jacket, whisking eggs in a bowl at a nearby station. Full lips pursed in concentration, his round eyes focused on the task in front of him. It was almost as if he was alone in this kitchen; not surrounded by his employees. Jungkook awed at his concentration. He poured the eggs into another bowl, then picked up a slice of beef from a tray nearby. Breaded steak, perhaps? Beef wellington? Jungkook was dying to know. He’d seen the dishes they served on their menu, and they all looked gourmet. His uncle had told him nobody liked that “fancy-schmancy” food anymore; they liked the good ol’ comfort foods, but according to Jimin, that wasn’t true. Seeing Jin working now, moving so quickly and deftly, he saw why people came to Jin’s Kitchen. 

“Yoongi!” Jimin called out instead. 

A short man with a black undercut glared at Jimin, seemingly annoyed at being disturbed. He was working with a piece of steak and some other fancy ingredients. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Our new cook is here,” he beamed at him, gesturing to Jungkook who waved shyly. 

The cook, Yoongi, scanned him over once. Wiping his hands on a cloth, he came over to them. “You’re Jungkook then?” he questioned. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Hm,” he examined him again, then said, “You look fit. You sure you’re not a donor?” he smirked with a snort. 

Jungkook’s cheeks turned hot, “No, sir.” 

“Yoongi, don’t tease him.” Jimin balled up a paper to toss his way. “Can Jin talk now?”

Yoongi turned around to see Jin now rolling the beef in dough, “I’ll see. He’s in his zone right now. Wait here.” 

“I have to head back to my tables,” Jimin told Jungkook as the other left. “Good luck.”

He gave the younger a quick hug, then walked back into the dining room. Jungkook watched Yoongi approach the head chef. He’d been tying up the dough around the slab of meat when Yoongi started talking. It took a few calls of his name before Jin finally turned to the other. He began putting the rolled up meat into a pan, listening to Yoongi as he worked. Finally, handing them to someone else, he turned to where Jungkook stood. Like Yoongi, he observed him for a second from afar. He asked Yoongi something; the shorter man nodded and Jin returned it curtly. He finally walked over, wiping flour from his hands. 

“So, you showed up on time,” he said. “That’s a good sign. As you can see, we’re very busy.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jungkook replied. “It’s Saturday night and people wanna go out to eat.”

“They certainly do.” He finished wiping down his hands, then continued, “Namjoon and Jimin tell me you’re a good cook.”

“I like to-”

“-But we don’t serve your typical run-of-the-mill, roadside bar food,” he cut in. “We serve only the finest dishes here. Our meat is cut fresh daily and everything is made from scratch. You won’t find any microwaves or cut corners here, understand?” A loud ruckus came from behind him, “Walk with me.” 

“Yes, sir.” He followed Jin to the soup station where the sound came from. The woman manning the station cursed again as her stew began boiling once again. “Irene, Irene, Irene,” the head chef called to her, quickly crossing the distance, “you have it too high.” He turned her flames down, “I told you a ‘low simmer’! A ‘low simmer’, woman!”

“Sorry, chef,” she apologized, bowing

He sighed, grabbing a spoon to taste the stew, then nodded. “Still good. Make it better.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

He let her carry on and then moved to the ‘poultry’ station. “Since you worked in a restaurant kitchen, I’m going to assume you know your basics, yes?” he asked, watching the man slice chunks of white meat into smaller pieces. 

“Yes,” Jungkook responded, watching alongside him. 

“Do you have any actual training?” Jin tasted the soy sauce mixture next to the man, and gave his approval. “Culinary school? Private lessons? Anything credible?”

“I did go to a culinary school for four years,” the younger answered. “I’ve worked at my uncle’s restaurant, but I did work at a local place in town for more experience. I put it on my res-”

“-Donny! Donny, what the hell…” Jin marched over to the other side of the poultry station. He picked up a piece of meat, “What is this?”

“It’s-It’s the stuffed chicken, Chef,” the wiry man stammered. 

“How can you stuff chicken when it's not fully cooked?” he cut open one slab, showing the pure red meat inside. “It’s red inside still. How long did you cook this?”

“Ten minutes, Chef.”

“No, no, no,” Jin groaned. “If you want to turn it into chicken, you tenderize, boil for fifteen minutes, then marinate it in the chicken stock!” He picked out another piece, cutting and tasting a piece. “Ugh,” he frowned, “it still tastes like pork. What will the customer say when they order chicken and get regular pork flavor instead?”

“I’m so sorry, Chef,” Donny bowed his head like Irene had. “I must’ve miscounted the minutes.”

“Obviously. Put it back in the stock for another ten.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

Jin rolled his eyes and looked back to Jungkook, “So, local experience? What type?”

“Bar and grill,” he answered. “But, but, it was pretty similar to your food.”

He scoffed, “I doubt that highly.” Jin turned, walking around the kitchen again. He came by Yoongi, who had taken over his Wellington, and patted his shoulder. 

“Well, we didn’t just serve it as meat,” Jungkook continued. “We turned it into chicken, pork, and the thinner slices could taste like fish if we left them in long enough.”

“Really? Fish?” he paused, looking at Jungkook. “Interesting. Is meat the only thing you can cook?”

“No, sir,” he shook his head. “I can make desserts, soups, salads, and other courses if you’re looking for that.” 

Jin stopped to observe a pair of women rolling out dough, then stuffing ground 'pork' inside them to make dumplings. “Perfect,” he smiled at them both, nodding to let them continue. “And you’ve worked around this food before?”

“Yes, of course.” 

“Never animals?”

“No,” he shook his head. “My family...well...it’s just not something we did.” 

Jin turned to him again with surprise in his eyes. “Is that so? It was the same with my family. We’d been doing it for centuries, so why stop now, right?”

“Right.” 

Jungkook did not like telling people about what his family sold for a living. Mostly because they could be arrested for it, but his grandmother told him it was best kept a secret instead. However, when he heard about Jin’s Kitchen through Jimin, he saw it as his chance to hone his skills. Jungkook stood by the meat station again while Jin consulted the 

. He saw a raw strip of steak sitting nearby about to be put on the grill. He noticed the little bit of fat around the edges and in the meat itself. Jin looked away from the cook to Jungkook. 

“What can you tell me about this piece?” he asked him. “Just from looking at it, what can you tell me about the person?”

He paused to study the steak, then said, “For one thing, they worked out often. There’s hardly any fat on this bit, so they must have done a lot of ab workouts and cardio.” 

“Mhm, and?”

He grabbed a fork to poke through the muscle. “They were about 20 to 25 years old,” he guessed, “Since the meat is still good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Muscle begins to deteriorate after thirty,” he said. “I mean, you can still harvest them up until maybe forty or fifty, but that depends on the health of the donor. I actually learned it’s easier to turn the flesh when it’s not so young. I mean, you want it good, but it absorbed better when it’s not as thick.” 

Jin listened intently, then put the meat on the grill. He then said, “Good so far. How’d you harvest yours? Donors?”

Jungkook hesitated, and it did not go unnoticed by Jin. “Hm, I see.” 

He worried this hurt his chances. He wanted to tell him that it made the dish taste better. His uncle used to get the bodies from the morgue in town after he convinced the families they’d been cremated. When he grew up, Jungkook realized how bland the meat came out when the corpse began decomposing. He brought up the suggestion of getting their supplies fresh, quick and for free.

The travelers that drove past their roadside diner in the middle of nowhere. 

“Now, here’s the trial portion of your interview,” Jin said when they left the grill. “I’m going to give you one hour to make an entree dish of your choosing. If Yoongi and I like it, you take the next step. If we hate it, you can hit the bricks, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Feel free to use our stores for whatever you need. One hour, Jungkook. It starts now.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Jin turned on his heel and headed back into the busy kitchen. Jungkook set to work right away, heading into the freezer where the meat was kept. 

Jin’s Kitchen was the most luxurious, five-star cannibal restaurant in the country. If one searched around on the dark web, they’d find the website where a menu could be found. The location wasn’t listed, of course. Jimin told him the only way to get a reservation was through a reference or an interview process. They’d be given a special card that they showed to Namjoon, the assistant manager, at the entrance. Jin’s Kitchen stood out from other restaurants because of its gourmet menu. It had variety, flavor and a uniqueness that people liked. Jungkook knew if he wanted to impress Jin and Yoongi, he’d need to match their level of expertise. 

Jungkook started by seasoning a strip steak. He’d spent ages working on  this particular dish for the interview. He needed it to be perfect. Not a single person got in his way, scolded him for using their station, or taking up space. It seemed that they all knew he was being interviewed. However, it was not their eyes he worried about. It was Jin and Yoongi’s eyes, he felt them on him as he worked. The nerves almost clouded his judgement when mixing the coating for the steak, but he managed to maintain his focus. He had cursed himself when he had nearly burned the au gratin potatoes, but he managed to redo them to perfection. Yoongi smirked at him when he accidentally dropped the salt shaker into his pan, shaking his head before going back to his

 By the time Jin came back to Jungkook’s counter, he’d finished plating his dish. 

The head and deputy chefs stood on the other side of his counter. People around them continued working, but they did look over at the trio. Yoongi kept his eyes on the nervous Jungkook while Jin examined the dish. 

“Tell me what you got here,” he said. 

“I have strip steak with au gratin potatoes and honey-garlic roasted carrots.”

“-Basic,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“Yoongi…” Jin warned, “Keep going. Classic strip steak,” he took a fork and knife nearby, “Medium?” 

“Medium, sir, yes.” 

Jin cut through it to show the hot pink center, poking the fork through its slightly firmer texture. He took a bite, chewing it thoroughly. For a moment, Jungkook imagined him spitting it out and scolding him. He was sure he was going to be kicked to the curb. However, Jin nodded, “Nicely done. This is cooked to perfection. Did you rub coffee grounds in this?” He pushed the plate to Yoongi, who took a bite. “I can tell from the bitterness up against the heartiness of the meat.” He watched Yoongi chew the meat, “What do you think?”

“It’s good, yeah,” he agreed. “Coffee grounds were an interesting choice.” 

Jin tried the potatoes. He complimented the crispy tops of the creamed potatoes. “Not too cooked or undercooked,” he asked, “Did you use parmesan cheese?”

“A bit, yes.” 

“Hm, good. It balances it nicely.”

“Thank you.” 

He liked the carrots too. “You didn’t overdo it,” Jin complimented, “with the honey garlic. It’s got that nice glaze on it too. Roasted veggies always go good with coffee rubbed steaks. Yoongi?” 

Yoongi tried it next. “You certainly know your meat,” the deputy chef said. “I would’ve picked something a bit more show-stopping, but this is good for a start.” 

For the first time, he saw Jin grin at him. It brought up his cheeks, and lifted his eyes. “I’m very impressed, Jungkook. For a moment, I thought we were gonna have to give you the boot, but you really turned it around. It’s such a simple dish, but you made it 

He took one more look at it, then continued, “I’d like to see how well you do with our other dishes. You’re hired.”

“I am?” All the nervousness in his body drained out at the words. 

“You’re experienced,” he said, “You have great talent. You know your meat; you have experience turning it too, so I’d love to see what you do with that in the future. But most importantly, you show a lot of passion for what you do. I see heart and care when I look at this plate. That’s something I take into consideration when I pick my chefs. You’ll start off in basic grill with Yoongi, then I’ll put you in other stations.”

“Oh my gosh,” Jungkook smiled. “Thank you so much, Chef. I won’t let you down. I promise!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jin grinned. “You can start tomorrow night. Feel free to order anything; it’s on the house.”

“O-okay. Yes, thank you again. Really.” 

He gave another nod, then left back to a nearby station. Yoongi stayed in front of him, arms crossed. “You’ll be on meat duty with me,” he said, “Which means I’m not going to hold your hand the whole shift.”

“I don’t expect you to, Chef.” 

“If you do need help, I’ll be glad to, but I expect you to know what you’re doing. Especially after you cooked this,” he took another bite from the steak. “I rarely take second bites, so I expect a lot of great things from you.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now get going. Tell Jimin we’re feeding you tonight. You should see what you’re going to be working with here.” 

“I got the job!” Jungkook cheered, hugging him. “I got the job! I got the job!” 

Yoongi left him standing in front of his half-finished plate. He never felt so accomplished in his life. He’d heard so many great things about Jin’s cooking, so to have such high praise from him sounded almost unreal. He excused himself from the kitchen and went back into the dining area. Still busy as ever, he spotted Jimin by the bar waiting on drinks. The bartender, a slim man in a satin vest and white button down rolled to his elbows, was mixing cocktails while they talked. Jimin caught sight of him walking over and smiled.

“Yay!” Jimin smiled brightly, hugging him tightly. “I’m so happy for you. Now we can work together again!” 

“Ahem,” the bartender coughed, eyeing Jungkook with a flirtatious glance. “Who’s your friend, Jimin?”

“Oh, this is Jungkook,” Jimin introduced him, “Jungkook, this is Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook nodded. 

“And you,” he rested his arms on the bar top and leaned forward, “You managed to impress Jin enough to get a job here. Nice. Congrats.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Free dinner then?” asked Jimin, grabbing a nearby menu. 

Jungkook grabbed the menu as Hoseok said, “If he likes you enough, he sometimes makes what you pick personally. You know, so then you can see how it’s supposed to look and taste.” 

How in the hell had he ended up hiring him? He was sloppy, neglectful, distracted, indifferent, and all around not a good cook. He’d chosen Donny at first because they needed a porter, someone who could clean and prep the ingredients for them. Donny had then dazzled Yoongi with a “family dish”, and had gotten himself promoted to an actual chef. He had started off well at first, but his work ethic declined drastically. Apparently, being a chef of a five-star restaurant got to his head. The rest of the staff had constantly complained about Donny’s poor work and his expectation of others to do things for him. That was the reason he had been so neglectful with the chicken. Jin knew it wasn’t real chicken; it was human flesh boiled in concentrated chicken stock. Still, he had expected perfection. He had tempted Jin’s chopping hand when he showed indifference to the chef’s instructions. In front of Jungkook, Donny had blurted out an apology, but behind his back he’d said something else. 

“I hope he liked me enough then.” 

******

The words had stayed in his mind even after Jungkook’s trial. He had refused to let the backhanded insult interrupt his judgement over the new cook. Jin had watched the skinny man from the afar. He had stood at the poultry station, stuffing pieces of mozzarella into a cutlet of flesh. He’d thought of keeping Donny until Jungkook was properly trained for their kitchen, but Jungkook’s handling and knowledge had put him at ease. He had a feeling he could throw the young chef into the depths, and he’d swim excellently. Jungkook had shown the passion that Donny pretended to have. He’d surprised Jin with the coffee-ground rub. Most people stick to simple dishes, but Jungkook had thought outside the box and Jin liked that. 

“Jin,” Jimin came to the pass where Jin stood, “Here’s Jungkook’s order.”

Jin took the slip of paper, and read it. He laughed out loud, “Chef’s choice, huh?”

Jimin smiled, “He wanted to see your favorite.” 

Jin couldn’t tell if the man was flirting with him or really sucking up to him. He enjoyed the refreshing change. “I think I know what I’ll make him.” 

From his resume, Jungkook was used to bar and grill types of food. Jin wanted to stray from that. Something inside him wanted to teach the younger new techniques and flavors. Picking up short ribs from the cooler, he grabbed barley and mushrooms on his way back. Jin had always made nearly everything from scratch; he hated pre-made foods. That’s why he bothered with Jackson’s business: he liked his meat fresh from the source, rather than the decaying, dead meat other restaurants bought. Yes, it was “evil”, but he’d have his food no other way. His father had taught him that much. 

“Chef?” a small voice called to him as he sliced mushrooms. He turned to see Irene standing with worry on her face. 

“What’s up?” Jin asked, turning back to his work. He needed each piece perfectly cut. 

“Please, Jin, don’t be mad, but…” she hesitated. 

Jin looked over his shoulder. “But what?”

“Someone left out a batch of flank steaks, and now they’re spoiled.”

Jin glared, but not at poor Irene. At Donny. “Who was the last person to use the flanks?”

“The person you’re looking at. He said he needed them to turn into chicken.”

“You don’t use flank for chicken,” he growled to himself. “It’s too good of a meat for that. Motherfu-” he put down the knife he’d been using, “I’ll talk to him later. We have some more in the freezer.”

Irene tried concealing her smile, “Yes, Chef.”

Jin went back to making Jungkook’s meal. He chose buttermilk-sage rolls to go alongside the meat stew. He had baked them to perfection, a golden hard outside and soft inside. As he handed Jimin the plate, another person came up to him. 

“Jin,” he recognized the outright annoyance on Yoongi’s face. His sous chef was clearly trying to hold back his frustration in front of the others, but it slowly crept out in his words. “We need to do something about Donny. He’s not at his station and not paying attention to the chicken. It would’ve boiled over if I had not come along.”

“Did you talk to him?” he crossed his arms over his broad chest. 

“I did,” he replied. “I did several times, you know that. The guy honestly does not give a fuck about anything. How did we end up making him a chef?”

“Because he tricked his way to the top,” Jin seethed. “He’s making me look stupid. I pick only the best, and here I promoted a complete idiot. Did you know he spoiled the flank steaks? Yeah, he left them out in the open outside the fridge and Irene found them.” 

The rage bubbling in his stomach slowly rose to his chest. He wanted to march right to Donny, slit his throat and drag him downstairs. Then again, what was really stopping him? “I think I know how to make up for those flank steaks,” he smirked at Yoongi. “You take charge for a while. I got some things to work out downstairs.”

Yoongi smiled at him, “Yes, Chef.” 

Jin walked over to Donny, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, Chef.” 

He led Donny through a back door that opened to a flight of stairs leading downwards. Jin’s Kitchen’s wine cellar was one of the finest in Jin’s eyes. Several different bottles of wine sat on racks along the walls and aisles in the room. Jin took him to the back of the room, and stood by a dark corner beside a rack of red wine. 

“Donny, you’ve been with us for a while now,” he said. “You...you work hard and for that you deserve a reward.” 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He looked at Jin, and moved to speak, but stopped when the wall behind Jin opened up. “This is where we keep the good stuff,” he grinned at him, letting him go through the passage first. 

A draft of cold air came through the staircase once the door closed behind them. Jin looked him over as they walked to the slaughterhouse entrance. Donny might be a bit skinny, but everyone had muscle on them. Perhaps he’d use him for chicken sandwiches or bacon wrapped scallops. Jin thought of the possibilities, opening the door into the restaurant’s personal slaughterhouse. Donny’s jaw dropped seeing the cages lining the sides of the concrete room. The fluorescent lights gave the room a greyish color, which is what Jin had wanted. In the cages, if Donny looked closely enough, he’d see them. Jackson Wang, being a human trafficker, often brought him groups of people for inspection. Jin only took the best looking ones. 

“What the fuck…” Donny whipped his head to Jin, “Is this what you do?”

“You know what kind of place we are, Donny,” he said, stepping over to a cutting table nearby. By the steel slab, he hung several types of knives. He picked up the sharpest one. “I make sure everyone knows we serve human flesh so they’re not surprised if they find out.” 

“I just thought you were taking, like, dead bodies or something!” he said in disbelief, “Not actually killing people! This shit is crazy! You’re a fucking psychopath!”

“No, no, no, my dear Donny,” Jin smiled at him. “I’m a man of taste and style. You are a lazy, ungrateful bastard with no sense of proper work ethic. First,” he stepped to him, “you embarrassed me in front of our new employee with your incompetence. Second, you continued embarrassing me by being an all-around useless chef. Third, you ruin my good steaks because you’re neglectful and stupid.” 

Donny glared hard at him, “Fuck you, you fucking fairy!”

“And you use such inappropriate, hateful language too. I just can’t tolerate your behavior anymore,” he moved further to Donny, getting a foot in front of him. He stared down into Donny’s eyes. He sensed the fear crouching inside them behind his toughness. “I’m sorry, Donny, but I’m gonna have to let you go.” 

“Hey, hey, what do you-”

In a single slash, the sharp blade cut through Donny’s neck. Blood leaked from the deep gash and into his shirt collar. Thankfully, Jin managed to only get droplets on his clothes. Not that it mattered to him. He watched Donny fall to the floor at his feet. He twitched around for a few seconds, gurgling and clutching at his bleeding neck, before finally becoming still. Jin chuckled at his pathetic body. 

Jin wiped off the blood from the knife and set it aside. He turned to a cage where a young woman sat crouched in a corner wearing nothing but her bra and underwear. Jin only gave her a wide grin and chuckled. They always looked so pathetic in this state. He grabbed both of Donny’s legs and dragged him to the plastic tarp at the end of the hallway. The whimpers of those in the cages satisfied him.

****

Then, he hung Donny on one of the meat hooks and started carving. He’d planned on letting Donny go once Jungkook had settled in, but not everything goes according to plan. He could take over poultry for tonight. A part of him felt even more aggravated because he had wanted Jungkook's thoughts on the dish. He had always enjoyed seeing people eat his food, whether they knew what they were eating or not. He imagined Jungkook taking that first bite and melting. Jin did not know Jungkook, and he could be completely wrong about him. Yet, watching him work tonight, he sensed the artist inside the boy. Even if he was not fully experienced, he seemed eager to learn from how he observed and listened to Jin. He’d worked so steadily with precision and care on his dish. It was as if he were a painter working on his canvas. Jin was anticipating seeing Jungkook perform again. 

Jungkook took to the kitchen like a fish to water. Walking in the next night, Yoongi handed him his chef’s jacket and bid him to follow. He could tell from how people moved out of his way that they somewhat feared the pale cook. Jungkook didn’t blame them. 

Yoongi showed him all the parts of the meat station, their dry pantry, their freezer and cooler. He explained how the night’s meat is prepared fresh early in the morning, and kept in the cold until lunch and dinner. Since he had proper training, Yoongi expected him to learn quickly, and Jungkook did. 

Gourmet dishes were very different from the barbeque he was used to cooking, but not so different at the same time. Yoongi kept him on cleaning and plating duty mostly; Jungkook realized that the chef wanted to see how he did when given the artistry portion of the job. 

“That looks beautiful!” Jimin commented when Jungkook passed a dish over to him. Two chuck pieces drizzled with brown sauce sat with chive-sour cream mashed potatoes on top. He’d placed some of the vegetables against the side for an asymmetrical style. “Simple but lovely.” 

“I guess.”

“Eh, well,” he looked over his shoulder to see Yoongi pulling steak out of a bowl of sauce, “He’s kinda tough, but I guess he has to be like that.”

Jimin peered around and then asked, “How’s it going tonight? Yoongi isn’t being too hard on you, right?”

“He must like you then,” he said, taking two plates to put on a large tray. “He usually berates new people at every turn.” He then gasped softly, “Gotta go. Jin’s coming.” 

He scurried away with his plates and Jungkook quickly returned to the new dishes in front of him. Yoongi had placed a few photos of what the dishes were meant to resemble, so he’d worked off of that. Fixing stuffed tomatoes on a plate, he squirted their special pesto sauce around them in decorative, lace-like patterns. He’d decided they needed more parmesan on top when Jin appeared next to him. 

“The stuffed tomatoes,” Jin said, “Very nice work, Jungkook. I’d put you on meat duty though.”

“Yoongi wanted me to learn your plating style,” he replied. “I told him I’ve never done it all fancy like this, so he wanted me to try it out.” He then asked, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” He examined the plate by turning it around. He met Jungkook’s eyes and for a moment, he thought he’d be scolded. “Well done,” he said, “You got it down to a science. However, I’d recommend not so much cheese next time. They already put some in the mixture, and then it comes out too cheesy.”

“Right,” he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Chef. Thank you.” 

“You like to learn, and I like that,” Jin complimented, patting his shoulder. “Keep it up.”

Jungkook blushed at the compliment. It felt nice, getting praise from someone as renowned as Jin. The question came out before he could stop himself, “How’d you get good enough to have a restaurant?” 

Jin paused at the question, then said, “I practiced. I listened. I learned. I studied hard. It sounds boring and difficult, but if you really push yourself, you get good results. Do you want to own a restaurant someday?”

“Maybe. I’ve never really thought about it before.” He added some basil leaves to a chicken pasta dish, “I just know I love cooking. It’s all I’ve ever seen myself doing since I was small.” 

“I get that. It was the same with me.” Jin stood next to him and took up a dessert dish, stuffed cannolis. Drizzling chocolate on them, he said, “My dad ran a restaurant, but it wasn't to this scale.” He snorted, “He never told anyone about the meat. He said it was a family secret.”

“You grew up around this too then? You mentioned it last night, I think.”

“I did,” he nodded. They put the dishes on the pass, and Jin rang the bell for pick-up. “My grandfather said his grandfather started it during the war. Food was really scarce at the time, and their crops kept on dying. So, when soldiers ended up scaring off the game and taking what was left for themselves, he, um...did something about it.”

“People or the soldiers?”

“Whoever he could find,” he said. “He started off with corpses of people who’d died of hunger or were shot by the soldiers. Then he started actually killing them himself,” he passed Jungkook a meat plate while he took up the other two. “He said there’s nothing better than meat fresh from the bone. My grandfather told me a story of how his father killed a soldier and sold him in meat stews to the other soldiers. My great-grandmother used their fat for candles; my great-aunt took their clothes apart and made new ones for them to wear.” He finished plating alongside Jungkook, “You’d be surprised how many uses you can get out of a human body. Not only eating, but for supplies and goods to sell.” 

“My grandmother had a lamp made from human skin.” He did not know why he said it, but it came out anyway. His eyes widened when he realized it, looking over at Jin. 

However, the chef only smiled. “Mine had a soup bowl made from a skull. My great-grandmother sculpted it, and gave it to her as a wedding gift. I have it in my house now. I mean, I don’t use it because it’s so fragile and old, but it’s a family heirloom, so I kept it.” He grabbed three more plates that they worked on together. “Don’t use so much pesto sauce,” he instructed, “Be a little more light handed with it. Yeah, like that.” He continued their conversation, “So, was it always you and your uncle?”

“And my grandmother. My father’s still in prison and my mother died when I was young,” he passed Jimin the first plate. "So she took me into her home when my dad was arrested."

“What is he locked up for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jungkook hesitated. They had already gotten this far into the conversation. “Murder…”

Jin looked over at him when he finished his plates. “I see...for food or fun?”

“I think both?” he answered. “My grandmother said he was never right in the head. I learned about the cooking from my uncle and grandmother, but my father took me to his slaughterhouse.” 

His father had laughed when he had seen the tent in Jungkook's pants.

Jungkook tried not to think about it, but it still sent chills through him. It was before he had moved in with his grandmother and uncle. He'd lived on a farm with his father until he was ten-years-old. It had always been just the two of them in those days. There weren't many animals besides the cows and chickens, but his father mainly kept them for eggs and milk. Jungkook remembered very little about the farm, to be honest. He'd been so young when it all  happened that he could only recall tidbits. As he sliced lemon pieces to decorate a pie, he remembered the woman and his father dragging her into their barn. He remembered her screams as she pleaded for her life; the way she had kicked and struggled had seemed to arouse his father. Jungkook only got involved after his father caught him watching through a crack in the barn. 

“You have slaughterhouse experience then?” Jin asked.

“Yeah, I do.” 

Jin seemed to make a note of it, but continued working. Jungkook wondered if he’d ruined his chances of ever moving up in this restaurant. Decorating the pie with lemon slices, he remembered when he had first suggested to his uncle that they should use fresh meat. This young couple had just arrived at their restaurant, and Jungkook couldn’t help noticing the man’s stature. Lean with unblemished, healthy skin, his body was made for a few good steaks. He had told his uncle that he’d handle everything when it came to the killing. His grandmother had backed up the decision by saying the dogs would be safe now. After some convincing, his uncle had finally caved in by the prospect of saving money. He was convinced even further when he had been served a slice of the traveler in a pot roast. 

The rest of his shift had gone by smoothly. Yoongi had brought him back over to the meat station and began showing him how they prepared each dish. Unlike Jin, Yoongi seemed to have something to say about everything: “don’t put so much salt” “you cooked this too long” “you should’ve tenderized this more” “you cook this WITH the peppers and onions”. Jungkook took it more as criticism rather than a personal attack. Yoongi at least appreciated that much. 

“Nice to see Jin didn’t hire another cry baby,” said the chef as he chopped steak in a mixture of peppers and onions. “Then again,” he smirked, “It’s only your first day.”

“Don’t challenge me, Chef,” Jungkook joked. “I’d hate to embarrass you in front of the entire staff.”

Yoongi snorted, “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.” 

“I was wondering something, though…”

“Yes?”

“Do you use a box to grab stuff from the shelf or a step stool?” he smiled mischievously. 

“Oh ha-ha, a short joke, how original,” he rolled his eyes. “I wish I had a quarter…”

“What?”

“So I can see if it fits in that honker you call a nose.”

“Oooh, a big nose joke,” he scoffed before laughing. 

“I know, I know, not very funny...but seriously,” he said, “What can you smell with that? Blood types? Fat percentage?”

They laughed together again as the dish finished cooking. The people around them watched the pair continue teasing one another the rest of the night. When closing time came, Jungkook helped clean up all the utensils and instruments they’d used. As he finished reorganizing the spices and herbs, he noticed Jin and Yoongi go into the wine cellar. He had guessed the pair deserved a nice bottle of wine after work. He thought of doing the same with Jimin and Namjoon tonight. He could use it after their busy night. Finishing up his task, he said goodnight to the other cooks. He walked back into the dining room where he caught the couple by the bar. Namjoon sat on a stool while Jimin stood between his legs. He recognized the flirtatious smiles they shared, whispering and giving brief kisses. Jungkook decided he’d rather not interrupt their moment, and sat at the bar where Hoseok was talking to the lounge singer. 

The handsome singer turned his head to see Jungkook and grinned. “Ah, you’re the new cook,” he greeted, “I’m Taehyung."

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook replied. “I heard you singing when I came in. You’re very good.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung chuckled. “Hoseok seems to be the only person who disagrees.”

“I don’t disagree,” the bartender replied. “Somebody’s gotta deflate that head of yours sometimes. You know, to keep you humble.” 

"I am humble. But, I also know that Jin wouldn’t have hired me if I sucked.” He turned to Jungkook and said, “So, how was it, working with Yoongi?”

"It was...educational. He isn't so bad."

"If you're on his good side," Hoseok smirked, "Like Tae over here."

"Shut up," Taehyung mumbled, flicking balled up straw paper at him. He looked at Jungkook, "Come sit with us, have a drink. It was busy tonight."

****

“I suppose I should take Donny off our payroll?” 

Yoongi was standing next to Jin by the drain, hands on his hips and looking at the body hanging off the hook. The older picked up one of the shoulder pieces, placed it on a length of cellophane to wrap. He’d let the man drain overnight, now he had time to wrap the pieces. 

Jin chuckled, “I’d hope so. Dead men don’t take paychecks.” 

He started wrapping the shoulder chunk while Yoongi cut into the body hanging over the drain. The pair worked on Donny for a while, cutting pieces of him to put into the freezer. Jin wrapped up stacks of back ribs as a certain young chef came to mind. 

Jin supposed being in a wealthier family had given him options Jungkook couldn’t afford. He thought of how well the man had plated the food tonight, while Jin had gone around the dining room checking on his customers and introducing himself to first time patrons. 

Jungkook’s background wasn’t much different from his own, he had realized. His father had never been caught, but he showed Jin everything he knew about the slaughtering business. His dad had taught him the best cuts of a person, what they can be used for, and how to cook them properly. He had said younger people are more tender, and healthier people have tighter muscles. He had been the one who introduced Jin to trafficking business through an old college friend. 

“How did Jungkook do tonight?” he asked Yoongi as he flayed muscles from the bones. 

“He exceeded my expectations for sure."

Jin took that as high praise, since Yoongi had always been a worse critic than him when evaluating new employees. Tossing bones in a nearby trash can, he breached the subject, “He has slaughter experience too.” 

Yoongi began skinning an arm in slow strokes, taking flesh off inch by inch, “And?”

“And we could use an extra hand down here. He’s got the muscles to handle these things,” he nodded to the door where the cells were. “And he could help us pack these in the freezer.” 

Yoongi looked over to him and scrunched his brows, “You know we shouldn’t do that. We agreed that it was for the best to keep this between the two of us. It isn’t a good idea to bring in someone we don’t know. Remember San?”

He did remember San. A handsome man with angular features, he’d joined the kitchen staff a few months ago. He’d shown the same enthusiasm as Jungkook, and also shared slaughterhouse experience. Because of this, Jin had felt fine bringing him into their operation. Things had gone smoothly for a while before he started noticing that the women were tampered with. Jin recalled the damage to the muscles and organs when he cut them open. Drugs. Their lower halves torn and dripping with cum told him what he needed to know. Considering he and Yoongi preferred men, he confronted San.

 The man had reasoned that he was only having a bit of fun; the drugs made the women more compliant. Jin told him the drugs ruined their insides if given too much each time. He’d fired San, who then attempted to go to the police about his operation and restaurant. 

Thankfully, some money stuffed in their pockets made the police look the other way. Especially when he made San his next House Special. 

“I don’t mean that we tell him this very moment,” he said. “I meant, if we ever need an extra hand in the future, Jungkook would be a good candidate. A lot of the people here might cook the meat, but they can’t handle actually harvesting it. He’s gotten it fresh from the source.” 

“Has he?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

Jin grinned, “Neither do we.” 

Jin thought about it some more as they worked. He rarely came across people who’d admit to having any kind of experience. He’s sure the younger man hadn't intended to say it outloud, but his excitement had gotten the better of him. Jin decided to wait for a few more months before asking. Jungkook was still new and needed to learn their kitchen and dishes more before being promoted to anything higher. He’d make a final decision later on down the road. 

Jin and Yoongi worked well into the early morning, then they closed up and parted ways. He had a feeling Jungkook wouldn’t be like San. Jin had sensed his passion for the food. Did he enjoy killing? Perhaps. He had met people who did. Did he enjoy cooking and serving the perfect dish? Yes, and Jin liked that about him. 

He had a good feeling about Jungkook. 

Jin slowly became his favorite part of the job. He liked watching the head chef breeze his way through the kitchen. He'd occasionally glance over to see Jin stir frying meat or expertly chopping on a cutting board. He was always precise and focused. Jungkook could only wish to have such skills. He also admired Jin as a head chef as well. He wanted to make sure his kitchen ran smoothly and provided the best service. It was not uncommon to see him disappointed or scolding someone for presenting low-quality dishes. Jungkook did everything he could to give him nothing but good results. He liked the proud, impressed smile Jin gave whenever Jimin came back with a compliment for Jungkook. His insides warmed up when Jin approved of a technique he’d used or if he saw Jungkook putting his teachings into practice. 

****

Jungkook listened to Yoongi when he taught him kitchen tips and tricks. He watched the older chef smoke and roast meat in the smoker outside. He paid attention to any detail Yoongi or Jin pointed out to him. If Jungkook’s dish was less than immaculate, Yoongi made him do it all over again. Despite the busy hours and Yoongi’s criticism, he enjoyed the restaurant. It felt good being in a proper kitchen again, working with the food he’d handled his whole life. Seeing customers enjoy his dishes brought on a pride that he cherished. 

And yes, Jin was very handsome. 

Jungkook had met good looking people in his life, but not like Jin. As the weeks went by, he began noticing Jin’s very wide shoulders even more; especially when Yoongi joked about putting a spice shelf on them. He noticed how his torso slimmed down to a tiny waist and went in proportion with the rest of him. He kept himself well-dressed and clean all the time, which was a big change from the truckers and farmers he used to come across back home. Jungkook remembered seeing him in a suit, fresh and neat, talking to the customers. He'd never recalled a simple outfit that made his heart flutter so easily.

“You do know he’s our boss, right?” Jimin whispered to him before his shift at the bar. Jungkook had been watching Jin through the window pass. Concentrated on plating, it was like watching an artist paint or a poet write. Jungkook found it hard to look away. 

“Huh? What?”

“I don’t blame you. Jin’s really good looking.” They watched him together, “You’re not the first employee to get all heart-eyes over him.”

“I’m not getting ‘heart-eyes’. I just like watching him work. I can learn a lot from someone like him.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, “Sure. You like watching him 

“I do. He’s very good at what he does, and...and he’s interesting to watch. You can really tell he loves what he does.” 

“You should go for it."

The question made Jungkook turn his head away from Jin. "What? No way. He's our boss like you just said."

"Yeah, and Namjoon is technically my boss and I am dating him." He picked up a tray of cocktails Hoseok passed and said, "It doesn't hurt to put yourself out there. You've been here a while now, so it's not like you're jumping into anything crazy."

"It's not like that," said Jungkook. "I admire him as a cook; that's all there is."

"But you can admire his chef skills while also admiring how he looks good in any light," teased Jimin. "Anyways, I gotta go give these to Mr. Kwon before he flips his table."

"Mr. Kwon?"

"That dude over there."

Jungkook looked to the corner he pointed to, and saw a thin man with cherry red hair coiffed and slicked back. Wealth was written all over him and a sense of cockiness went over his smile. He talked with a well dressed woman at his booth, nibbling on a piece of bread as he listened to her. 

"VIP, I'm guessing?" asked Jungkook. He'd begun recognizing the pattern in all of Jin's special, long-time patrons: rich, snobby and entitled. 

"Absolutely. Mr. Kwon Jiyong, another rich man with peculiar tastes. He's been coming here for years now. If we all play our cards right, he tips the entire staff big time. He's always bringing all his rich friends, which drums up business for Jin." He held the tray in his hands. He paused, then said, "If you want to impress Jin, work on one of Kwon's dishes. If the guy likes what you made, Jin will hear about it.”

“Fair enough,” said the waiter. “Just keep it in mind if you ever want Jin’s attention.”

“He’ll also hear about it if it’s complete crap,” he said. “Jin or Yoongi will want to make the dishes themselves. I can’t afford to mess up anywhere in that kitchen.” It was true. He’d only just started catching up on bills and payments he needed to make. The restaurant paid him well, and he knew if he did even better, he’d get a raise. “I gotta clock in,” he said, sliding off the stool, “I don’t want Yoongi to chew my head off.”

Jungkook nodded and left the bar. He spotted the pass and saw Jin leave. He must’ve caught wind of Jiyong being in the dining room, and wanted a head start. He knew that’s what he’d do in that position. Jungkook walked into the busy kitchen where a few people greeted him. He walked up to Yoongi, who stood by the meat station chopping green onions. 

“Yoongi, I’m-”

“-Chicken duty tonight,” he interrupted. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

“-Jin! Kwon’s order is in!” 

He went over to the poultry station where he saw Irene pulling strips of whitened meat out of the pot. Not completely cooked, Jungkook knew he could finish cooking it however he wanted. He took up one slip of paper asking for the garlic-ginger chicken dish. Taking it from the marinade bags in the cooler, he began cooking the slices on the stove. It smelled faintly of actual chicken, though he knew that was the stock Jin soaked the meat in. He found Jin’s process of giving the flesh a chicken flavor interesting. He’d worked in places where they did it before, but they never got the science down. Once he had finished cooking, he sliced the chicken into fine slivers. Irene delicately placed a bed of steamed rice in the center. Jungkook hoped whoever ate it enjoyed it. 

Jungkook turned to see Jin take up an order slip from someone at the pass. Jin’s brow furrowed reading down the list. Then he turned to the kitchen behind him:

“Kwon Jiyong’s table!” he said to them. “I need another garlic-ginger chicken, two new york strips, one filet mignon with balsamic glaze, and 2 rosemary braised shanks!” 

Jimin’s suggestion came across his mind. He admitted that the idea of Jin smiling proudly at him gave him butterflies. He pictured the head chef coming over to him, hands behind his back, as he congratulated Jungkook on his dish. He’d suggest that they share a bottle of wine to celebrate. They’d get into deep conversation about themselves and their passions. Then, it’ll happen in a quick moment. One minute, he’ll be looking into Jin’s brown eyes and next he’ll be tasting wine on those plush lips. He’d grown fond of the strict chef over the past few months, he’d confess. He wanted to be noticed in a bigger way. He left his station and reached the pass where 

 ticket sat on the counter. Jungkook read the scribbled order, then glanced at where his bosses stood. 

Jin stood beside Yoongi, preparing flank steaks for cooking while the other crushed some ingredients with a bowl and pestle. They talked in low voices as they worked. Jungkook guessed Kwon ordered one of the steaks. He shouldn’t bother. It wasn’t his position or station tonight. He should go prepare another garlic-ginger and hope that sufficed. But a nagging voice inside him said he should start on the filet mignon. 

So he did. 

Too absorbed in their own work, nobody said anything as Jungkook prepared the balsamic glaze that’d go on top. He’d told Irene that Yoongi ordered him to change stations for Kwon’s order, and the woman believed him. Jungkook made sure every element of the dish came out to perfection. If he wanted Jin’s attention, he’d need to make a sleazy rich guy happy. Excitement and dread mingled inside his stomach as he grilled the steak. This can end either wonderfully or 

 When he finished the dish, he put it on the pass. 

“Jungkook? What table is that for?” Jin’s voice came in a hard tone, and Jungkook felt every nerve in his body freeze. 

“For, um...It’s for, um, uh, Mr. Kwon’s table?” he responded in a small voice. “I-I-I...He sounded like he had a big order, so I thought I’d help out.” 

“And who told you that you could?” he asked, fists on hips. “You were told to be on poultry tonight. You’re still training there, and I’d prefer you’d stick to your training than trying to impress Kwon Jiyong.”

“I saw nobody was working on the filet, and you know I know my steaks, so…” he felt foolish now. Jin wanted him to focus on himself, not impressing a VIP guest. “You’re right...I’m sorry, Jin. I should’ve let someone else handle it.” 

“You should have,” he nodded. “You should have asked me if you really wanted to help. What if I’d already put someone on it?” 

Jungkook paused, looking at him. Another thing he had not thought of when he started, but he noticed that nobody else was working on the steak. “Did you?”

Jin sized him up, crossed his arms, and shrugged, “Must’ve slipped my mind.” 

They shared a stare. Jungkook knew at once why Jin did not give the assignment to anyone else. He nodded, and said, “I’m sorry I did not ask you, Chef. You’re right, I should have.” 

“You better hope Kwon likes it. Get back to your station.” 

“Yes, Chef.” 

He worked with nerves weighing him down. Jin must’ve known he’d take the chance. He didn’t know whether to feel proud or to be worried. He finished a few more meals before he heard Jimin's voice. 

"Jin, Kwon wants to meet the chef that made his meal."

Jungkook froze by the boiling pot. He turned to Jin, who stood looking at Jimin. He then met Jungkook's eyes, bidding him to come along with a head nod. He handed off his work to Irene, then headed towards Jin. He already imagined all the harsh criticism he would hear from the man. He saw himself losing his job because he thought he could do this. As he walked through the restaurant, he kept his eyes on the booth where Kwon Jiyong sat. He'd hoped Jin might give him some instruction on how to act with him, but he said nothing. They approached Kwon's table where the man finally noticed him. 

 "Ah, Jin!" he beamed brightly, "I knew it was you who cooked this! It is marvelous!"

"Sorry, Jiyong, but it wasn't me who made your meal tonight," Jin shook his hand, "It was one of my newer cooks." He gestured over to Jungkook, "This is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Kwon Jiyong, one of our VIP members."

Jiyong's eyes scanned over him with a faint smirk on his lips. He was truly handsome up close. The people around him seemed eager for his attention, especially the woman beside him. However, having Jungkook in front of him, he no longer took any interest in her. He grinned at Jungkook, "Well don't you have the face of an angel? How old are you? "

"Twenty-three, sir," answered Jungkook. 

"You're still in culinary school?"

"I graduated last year, sir."

"A bit fresh from the academy, no?" Jiyong asked Jin.

"I overlooked that when I tasted his interview dish. He has tons of experience backing him up," answered Jin. "He has a lot of raw talent and passion that I admire."

"It definitely shows in his food," said Jiyong. "Everything was cooked exactly how I wanted it. How did you know I liked my steak medium? Jin here dropped some secrets to impress me?" 

"Lucky guess?" Jungkook suggested. "Most people who order it order medium-rare or medium, so I went with medium."

"A very lucky guess," grinned Jiyong.  "The food was delicious," he looked Jungkook up and down again, "I look forward to eating more of it in the

"

Jungkook blushed under the attention, "Thank you, Mr. Kwon."

"Please, call me Jiyong,” he extended his arm and they shook hands. “Jin, I want Jungkook as my cook from now on.” 

“Of course, Jiyong,” said Jin, forcing a smile on his face. “I’ll tell Eric.” 

“I’ll let you two get back to work,” he said, dismissing them and picking up his drink. “I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook bowed. “It was nice meeting you.”

“And very nice meeting you,” Jiyong winked, and Jungkook tried hiding his red cheeks. 

Jin said his goodbye, and steered Jungkook from the table. He did not know what it was, but he sensed the distaste in Jin when they reached the kitchen. His boss turned around to face him once the doors shut. 

“Seems Kwon really likes you,” he said. “I hope you know that means he’ll expect nothing short of spectacular whenever he shows up.”

“I assumed as much from how much everyone freaks out when he's around.”

“It doesn’t seem like it right now, but he can put a lot of pressure on you. Especially because you’re…” 

“I’m what?”

“Well, you know,” he did not meet Jungkook’s eyes as he said, “His type. Um, you know, young, good looking, and...and yeah. Kwon likes pretty faces, so he’ll probably keep wanting to see you as well as have you cook for him.” 

Jungkook smiled at him. Did Jin find him attractive 

He liked it. “I’d hoped that he’d like my cooking more than my looks.”

“I mean, I’m sure he liked that too. If he didn’t, he would’ve said so.” He straightened himself up, “I’m only saying, you should be a bit wary of him.” 

“I will, Chef.” 

He found himself wishing Jin looked at him like Jiyong had done. Yes, Jiyong was handsome, but Jin surpassed him by miles. 

"You did well though," said Jin, breaking through his thoughts. "And I'm proud of you."

"Really?" He asked, smiling widely. 

"Yes, you did well and made Jiyong happy. That's what I expect from my cooks. Well done."

"Thank you, Chef."

"Let's get back to work then."

He took one more look at Jin, then started back to his station. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered the rest of his shift. 

****

Jiyong continued coming by and asking for Jungkook after meals...and Jin hated it. He hated how the wealthy man charmed and flirted with the young chef. He hated the way he smiled and stared at him. Jin wished he could ban him solely for the reason that seeing Jungkook sitting beside Jiyong after shifts pinched his nerves. Jiyong wasn't even that interesting. He had as much depth to him as a kiddie pool. He didn’t even admire the true art of their work. He'd started eating human flesh out of trend, not because he 

 it. Jin could always tell a true enthusiast from the curious. He knew Jungkook truly liked their food. He didn’t even need to disguise it. 

"Jungkook, what are you doing?" he asked him one night after closing. 

He'd been grabbing a merlot to take home when he caught the young man in the kitchen. On his plate sat a steaming steak with potatoes, and beside him a beer bottle. 

"Oh sorry, Jin," said the younger. "I, um, found the last of the tenderloins in the back so I thought I'd take it to be done with it."

"You didn't season it?" he asked, coming closer to see the steak in their basic house seasoning. 

"Um, uh, not in our usual fancy way, if that's what you mean," he answered. "I don't know if it's only me, but sometimes I feel using chicken or beef stock ruins the original flavor. I like to enjoy it as it is once in a while, you know?"

"Here," he grabbed two measuring cups and he set down the wine. "You won't be spoiling my tenderloins with meager beers. A nice merlot is what it needs." He poured them each a cup and then they clinked them together before drinking. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, taking a seat. "My dad said it was good to have it as is. He didn't really like me disguising it the way I do here, but it'd be far too bland if I served all the food like this." 

"It does help people transition into it, I suppose. Honestly, people scoff at it, but we're no different than animals." He took another bite from his steak. He savoured it. Jin could see it and he enjoyed the feeling. "A lot of my uncle's regular customers thought they were eating actual pork and beef."

"It's mind over matter at work. People here think if they ignore what this really is, they can swallow it better." He took a drink of his wine, taking in before swallowing. "I know for a fact some of the others around here only applied because of how much they get paid. I rarely meet people who truly have a passion for what we do here."

"Same," he washed his food down with the wine. "When Jimin told me what you really serve, I needed to see it for myself. Most cannibal restaurants are little dingy clubs, not gorgeous five-star places like this. The things you do with human meat are incredible. I've seen people try changing the flavors before, but you really nailed it. How'd you pull it off?" 

"It took a lot of trial and error, to be honest, and help from Yoongi. He's just as much responsible for this place as I am. He grew up in a similar environment to us, and he understands the real reason we continue this lifestyle. "

"He's passionate...like you," he said. 

Jin swore he spotted pink in Jungkook's cheeks. "So, you and Jiyong," he said carefully, "Anything going on there?"

Jungkook looked up from his plate and laughed, "Seriously, Jin?" 

"What? He comes around here a lot and I've seen how you get around him."

"I get the way anyone would when someone like Jiyong gives you attention. Yeah, it's nice to have a hot guy like him flirt with me, but he's not really my type."

This news made Jin’s heart skip a beat. "He's rich. He's young and handsome. So many people would kill to be you."

"Yeah, he's rich and all that, but he's so…" he stifled a laugh, "Obnoxious. He's always name dropping and telling me he bought this condo building here or how he was on the cover of some posh magazine. I don't really care about things like that." 

"You don't? Most people would love to meet someone who can give them the world on a silver platter. Jiyong could do that for you. "

"Eh, I 

really need a lot, " he shrugged, chewing another piece of steak. He finished it off and set the plate aside, wiping his mouth, he said, "I'm happy with my apartment and doing what I love. I don't need designer clothes or a penthouse downtown. I'm happy with what I have here."

Jin chuckled, "You really are a simple farm boy, huh? Not that there's any shame in that. I grew up in a similar place. We lived outside town so we didn't have any nosey neighbors around. It's harder to get meat if you have Debra from down the block peering through her blinds all the time. "

"Sometimes neighbors don't matter. My dad got caught because one of the girls escaped from the barn." He paused once he realized what he'd said. "Um, uh, I mean-" 

He raised a hand to stop him, "No judgement here. I told you my family had a similar practice, remember?" a thought then came to him, "Did you carry on that tradition when you moved in with your uncle?" 

Jungkook studied him for a moment, then said, "I did. My uncle wasn't a fan of it, but the stuff came out so much more tender when we bypassed the morgue and went straight for the source. Decayed flesh doesn't have the same kind of kick even after it's cooked. You can control their weight and tenderness while you still could if you do it the old fashioned way." 

He considered these words, watching Jungkook finish off his wine. He noticed the passion sparkling in his eyes when he talked about their trade. Jin would not admit it but he'd looked into Jungkook once he started working for him. He did it as part of the standard hiring process. He found out who Jungkook's father was and what he'd done to his victims. He imagined it'd been shocking witnessing that as a child, but that did not seem to deter Jungkook from his appetite. He recalled seeing his own father "tenderize" a man in front of him as part of a cooking lesson. He'd given Jin the instruments and instructed him from afar. Jin recalled how aroused he'd become by the blood and screams; he shuddered thinking of how his blade sliced cleanly through the flesh, the pain his victim must've felt at his actions. He remembered the pleasure heightening when he finally tasted the fruits of his labor. He never told anyone what he'd done later on in his bedroom. 

 would normally ask Yoongi ahead of time, but Jin knew the other chef would approve. He'd become fond of Jungkook, whether he admitted it out loud or not. "If I showed you something, would you promise to keep it to yourself? A lot of people might be disturbed if they knew."

"You mean where you and Yoongi get your meat fresh?" he asked, smirking at Jin's surprised expression. "I can tell from the taste alone. When you've spent long enough eating decaying flesh, you can tell the difference. Also, I've started noticing you and Yoongi going to the back every Monday and Thursday. Full grown bodies last a few days if you chop enough of them."

Were he not his boss, Jin would've kissed him then. "I knew you were smart. Come on, Yoongi is down there now."

"Do you think he'll be okay with it?"

"I think so. He likes you and it's less heavy lifting on his part."

He led Jungkook to the cellar and through the passageway. Painful screams echoed in the descending staircase. It sent shivers down Jin's spine. He imagined what mischief Yoongi must be up to that it'd cause such a ruckus. He reached the holding cells where the captives pushed themselves as far from the bars as they could. 

"Wow," sighed Jungkook. He stopped by the first cell, where a young woman tried avoiding eye contact. "You keep your slaughterhouse underneath the restaurant?" 

"We do. It's easier to transport and carve them up down here rather than somewhere else. Nobody else knows about this besides Yoongi and I."

"What if one of them tries to escape?" Jin heard the concern in his voice. 

Jin came to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder, "They don't. The main doors and cells have automated locks, and there aren't any windows in here. Only Yoongi or I can open them." He looked into the cage where the half naked girl stood, "We buy them from a trafficker in town. When you think about it, we're doing them a favor." 

"Favor?"

"

 my guy didn't sell them to us, he'd be selling them into sex trafficking rings." Jin bent down to meet the woman's eyes, "And I don't know if this is just me, but I'd rather die once than die a thousand times as my dignity is slowly stripped away. Being made into a fine gourmet dish sounds better than becoming somebody's fuck hole...don't you think so, sweetheart?"

He began explaining their process as Jungkook observed the cages. For a moment, Jin saw disappointment cross the younger's face when he said they did not torture here. Clean killings make sure they get as much undamaged flesh as possible. He supposed the man enjoyed playing with his food before eating it. Jin bit his bottom lip imagining the scene. 

"Eat goddamnit!" Yoongi's voice broke through their conversation. They caught Yoongi at the end of the aisle, poking a cattle prod into a cell. 

"I said 'eat'!" Yoongi growled, pushing the electric rod between the bars. "Eat it or I'll make you!"

"Yoongi," Jin interrupted his threats, "What's going on?"

"This little fucker won't eat! We need him to bulk up or otherwise there's no point in keeping- woah, what is 

doing here?"

"I thought perhaps Jungkook could join us in the slaughterhouse? He pretty much figured it out on his own, so there's no point keeping him out of things. He has some experience in this too."

Yoongi sized him up for a moment, then handed him the 

. "Get him to eat."

Jungkook hesitantly took the cattle prod and held it lightly. Jin was worried for a moment that he'd made a mistake. Perhaps Jungkook was more accustomed to being a watcher. He was considering  taking the prod before Jungkook shoved it between the bars. Jin didn't say anything as Jungkook shocked him over and over. The thin man gasped and shuddered along the floor after each shock. He eventually looked at the bowl Jungkook pushed his way. Still, their captive continued protesting, calling them every name in the book and spitting at them. Jungkook only poked him more, the electricity sparking against his bare skin each time. The delight in Jungkook's eyes appeared almost childlike as he poked the man again. He threatened to keep going, in such a low tone, if the man didn’t listen to them. He giggled when he shocked the prisoner on his way towards the bowl. He smiled over at Yoongi and Jin when the man began timidly eating, his hand shaking as he spooned it into his mouth. 

"Good boy," smiled Jungkook. He handed Yoongi the rod, then said, "How'd I 

?"

Yoongi took the rod from him and said, "Alright. Just alright."

He put the rod away while Jin explained the slaughterhouse rules and protocols. Should another employee find out about it, they'd be expected to take care of that employee. It was important they kept it a secret, something Jungkook knew how to do well. By the time they got to work, Jin knew he'd made the right decision. 

****

Jungkook liked working in the slaughterhouse. It reminded him of the times he would accompany his father, who showed him everything he knew about carving flesh from bones. He went down to the underground area with Yoongi and Jin twice a week. On Mondays, he helped Yoongi pick out choice meats from the cages, then they'd flay, debone, wrap and store them for the restaurant. 

Thursday, he stood with Jin as he picked from the trafficker's selection. The trafficker, a man named Jackson, brought six to eight people for Jin to examine. Jungkook particularly liked this night. Not because he was allowed to rough up or torture them mildly with the cattle prod, but because he got to spend the night with Jin. He enjoyed being in his boss's company the most. He felt honored Jin trusted him enough to help with such important work; he did whatever he could to make sure Jin was pleased. Sadly, he knew nothing would come from this. Despite the daydreams of them confessing feelings over a worktable or Jin asking him on a date, they still were boss and employee. It'd be wrong. 

Then again, their entire operation was considered wrong. 

So, he stuck to Jiyong, who still flirted and admired him from time to time. Jungkook slowly became weary of the billionaire and his boasting, but he knew outright rejecting him might not end well. Jimin told him Jiyong will eventually get bored of him and move onto someone else, so he waited for that. He focused on his 

 instead of worrying what Jin thought of Jiyong being all over him. 

It’d amused him at first when his boss thought there’d been something there, but then he thought about it more. Jin seemed most bothered whenever Jiyong asked to see Jungkook; he found out the man had even flat out refused on one of their busier nights. Namjoon said it was very unlike Jin to deny a customer, especially a VIP, of anything they wanted. Jungkook wondered why that might be, and that little glimmer of hope made its way into his heart. But, of course, that was only a suspicion. But a nice one. 

“How come you’re not working in the kitchen this Saturday?” Jimin asked in the breakroom a month later. “You always work Saturday and that’s The Showcase night. We’re gonna be packed, so the tips should be good.”

Jungkook looked at the posted schedule, seeing the Saturday slot filled in with ‘Show’ instead. Above it was the word ‘Showcase’. Jungkook learned from Yoongi what that word meant for Jin’s Kitchen when he first started working there. Once a month, the restaurant held a special event for guests which involved them voting on the fate of whichever poor soul Jin bought from Jackson. It could be anything from simple whipping to live dismemberment. Jungkook often missed the main events because he’d be in the kitchen for most of it. The entire staff earned extra that night from the tips and guest’s participation fees. If he’s off that night, he won’t be getting anything and he thought of the overdue electric bill on his table back home. 

“

?” Jungkook stood at the door of Jin’s office, seeing his boss typing out paperwork, “How come I’m not working this Saturday? I always do.”

“You are working,” he said, “I just didn’t put you on a station this week. I thought you might enjoy helping out with the show instead.” He gave a small grin, the kind that puffs the tops of his cheeks, and said, “Eric can’t help this time, and I couldn’t think of anyone who’d enjoy working on it more than you. You’ll still get paid and get whatever tips the staff splits amongst themselves.” He then said, “If you’d rather work in the kitchen that night, then it’s fine. I can put someone-”

“-No, no, no,” he cut in quickly. “I’d love to help with the show! I didn’t sign up for it though.”

To be honest, he hesitated signing up for the crew because of the man in front of him. He worried what might happen if he watched this gorgeous man work on a live person. Jungkook already pictured him shirtless, bloody with a knife in his hand. He pictured those muscles rising and falling in each breath; he imagined Jin pushing him onto the work table, nearly tearing off his clothes as he railed him. He worried signing up for The Showcase put him within touching distance of the person Jin was deep inside. 

“What would I be doing?” he asked. 

“We’d figure it out on that day,” he said. “You can either work backstage, assist or perform. Taehyung’s the MC, as you know, so that position is always taken.”

“Will you be performing that night?” Jin normally didn’t, since someone must run the kitchen, but the question came out before he stopped himself.  

“I will actually,” he smiled. “Yoongi will be taking care of the kitchen that night, and it’s been so long since I did anything for my own event. Hey,” he said, having a sudden thought, “why don’t you assist me? That way I can show you how everything works before you do your own performance.”

The offer surprised him. “You want to actually work with me?”

“Well, Jungkook,” laughed Jin, “I work with you in our slaughterhouse so I see what you’re capable of. I think you’d be great for The Showcase.” 

“Um, uh, yeah. I’d love to help you with the, um, you know, the show.” 

Seeing Jin smile at him again made his heart flutter. Jin’s ability to turn him into a puddle of mush in seconds was deadly. Jungkook thanked Jin for the opportunity, then started his shift. He thought of all the possibilities of the show. 

already felt close to Jin because of the slaughterhouse, but now he could work closely with him on something non-work related. Jin might keep the two separate, but Jungkook noticed it. He noticed the glee in his eyes when he broke bones or sliced up flesh. Jin liked hurting them just as much as he did, and it intrigued him. He imagined all the things Jin could teach him outside of cooking. He couldn’t wait for the night. 

****

He had never felt so nervous. He’d been on stage before, of course, but he still felt those knots in his stomach. Jungkook imagined all the ways he could mess up: he could forget a cue or his mind could draw a blank and he’d stumble over himself. He might mistake a butcher knife for a serrated one. So many simple things could turn out horribly. He was already worried what might happen once Jin started his show. 

It was fine when he was home alone with no eyes on him, but he’d be in front of a crowd of people. He knew he’d die of embarrassment if people saw the erection he'd get in his pants. It certainly didn’t help how handsome Jin looked tonight. Dressed in a black long sleeved button down, Jungkook drooled over how it framed his torso, showing off his broad shoulders. The slacks he wore pinched at his slim waist and went down his long legs. Jungkook tried not to notice as he helped Taehyung set up the stage. 

moved the band off stage tonight so there’d be more room for the main space. They had hung all sorts of torture devices and instruments on the walls erected around the background. A pane of glass separated the stage from the audience so nobody could suddenly interrupt the performances. On the sides of the stage were monitors showing the center for those who were farther away from the stage. He gulped thinking about being seen on those. Jungkook helped put up lights and fix things onto the walls. He heard Jin direct people from behind him; he knew his boss wanted everything absolutely perfect. He had planned on helping with that. Images of Jin’s bloody hands gripping his naked body flashed before him when he hung up a knife. He thought of how easily Jin made people bleed; the way he broke them through their minds before breaking their bodies. It aroused him. 

The show started with Taehyung, in a floral shirt under a peach colored suit, brightly welcoming the guests. Jungkook stood beside Jin off stage as they watched the headliner crack jokes and warm them up. He tried relaxing through Taehyung’s opening, but his nerves didn’t let him relax. 

"Just breathe," a voice said behind him. Jimin appeared, holding his tray, and grinning. "You're going to do great."

“You think so?” 

“I know so,” he said, patting his shoulder. “Jin wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t think you’d do well.” 

He supposed Jimin was 

. Jin had seen him working in the slaughterhouse downstairs, which gave him a clear idea of what he was capable of . But, did he know what it did to Jungkook?

Hoseok went up first. Backstage workers dressed in black wheeled in a young woman in a risque school girl costume. The gag in her mouth muffled her cries and she tried wriggling out of the straps keeping her to the gurney. Hoseok smiled at the crowd in front of him, who hooted and hollered at the woman’s appearance. Taehyung, from the side of the stage, spoke into his microphone again. 

“Our first performance of the night is none other than our dear bartender, Hoseok,” he gestured to Hoseok in his surgeon’s outfit, “Who will be performing some very, very, very important surgery. Please, ladies and gentlemen, take out your tablets and vote on the fate of this fine specimen.”

Jungkook saw the guests pick out small tablets on the tables and begin scrolling and punching in votes. On a screen nearby, it showed the top 10 methods of death and torture they could pick from. Jungkook’s excitement doubled seeing the most gruesome ones reaching the top. He saw the fear in the girl’s eyes, her desperation climbing the longer the guests voted. Finally, a dinging sound went around the room and voting closed. 

“Oh ho ho,” Taehyung smiled, chuckling with the crowd, “Looks like we have some cruel people in here tonight! I love it! You all voted for ‘Face Off’! Hoseok,” he looked at the man on stage, “You know what to do.”

And the words riled up the audience. People cheered as Hoseok picked up a small scalpel, a wicked smile on his face. Some patrons turned their faces once he pressed his blade on her forehead, blood slowly coming down her face and her piercing scream coming through the speakers. Jungkook swallowed as he watched. Hoseok carefully flayed the girl’s face off; he occasionally cooed when she screamed particularly loud, but laughed right after. Jungkook saw her skin slowly coming from her muscle; he wondered what it felt like doing the work. He imagined the light pressure Hoseok must use. He thought of doing it himself one day, getting right up and close with his victim. When Hoseok held up the flayed face up to the crowd, they applauded him. However, they weren’t done. 

“We got a few perverts in attendance tonight,” grinned Taehyung, carefully listening to the earpiece he wore. “Hoseok, they wanna see this busty beauty flattened out a little.”

It was something to behold. He fidgeted in place as he watched Hoseok rip her shirt open. Jin turned to Jungkook, “You okay?”

“Um, yes,” he nodded. “Just nervous about how we’ll do. What do you think people will pick?”

“Depends on who we get,” he 

. “A lot of people like amputations and disembowelment, but that’s so…”

“Quick?”

Jin met his eyes. They sparkled in the half light of the backstage wing. How can one person be so beautiful? Jungkook worried about the reaction he’ll have being so close while Jin worked. “Yes, exactly,” he finally answered. “I prefer slow and steady. You have a whole human body in front of you. Why be so hasty, right?”

“Right.”

Hoseok’s surgery segment ended with his victim missing parts, bloody and completely still. Yoongi told him they sliced off whatever meat was left, then incinerated the rest. Irene came up next with a scrawny, pale man screaming at the top of his lungs. He sat strapped to the chair as Irene followed the patron's votes to the letter. While watching, Jungkook envisioned him and Jin working together. He saw himself running bloody fingertips over Jin’s toned, smooth skin; the contrast between the dark blood and Jin’s light skin looked entrancing in his mind. He swallowed thickly thinking of him and Jin sharing bits of their victim’s flesh. He would kill to see what those full lips looked like wrapped around his own; his mouth watered at what Jin might taste like in return. A breath hitched in his throat when someone came up behind him. 

“Are you positive you’re okay?” Jin’s hushed voice filled his ear; hot breath crept over his neck and gave him goosebumps. “You seem a bit flustered.”

“I...I’m fine. I swear,” he nodded. “I can still go on. Don’t worry. I won’t-won’t mess up or anything.”

“I’m confident you won’t,” he said. A hand came up to his waist, giving a light squeeze that made his blood pump hard. “I’m only worried about myself.”

“About yourself? What do you mean?”

“I’m worried I might not be fully focused on our performance,” he said, “Because I’ll be too busy thinking of you instead.”

“Jin…”

“I know I’m your boss and you’re my employee, but,” he buried his face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck, but didn’t kiss the skin there, “I can’t help it. You’re so depraved, demented and disturbed like me. I’ve never felt so connected to one person before. I can share my darkest secrets with you and know that you won’t judge. You enjoy them. You relish in the work; not only cooking but the carving. You like slicing and flaying and killing. You like hurting them and you like watching them be hurt.” He went back up to his ear, “Please tell me you feel that too?”

“I’ve never told anyone about my dad before,” Jungkook said. “Not even Jimin. The night you showed me the slaughterhouse, I...I felt comfortable. I felt comfortable talking about the work. I used to worry you might think I’m crazy or something, but now, I see you don’t. You understand.” He squeaked when the hand on his waist went between his thigh and hip. He could feel the fingertips brushing right to the space above his cock. It pumped more blood to his center. “Jin…”

“I want to make love to you on stage,” he growled in his ear. “I want to feel completely, utterly, and truly close to you. I know it’s sudden and if you’re not comfortable with that-”

“-No,” Jungkook intervened. “I want you to make me yours. All that formal dating stuff can happen later.” He put Jin’s hand on his crotch completely, “I want you to fill me up and make me cum everywhere.”

“Oh fuck yes…” Jin exhaled, turning Jungkook’s face to meet him. 

Their lips came together hungrily. Jungkook came to life in his arms. He had never felt this way for someone. The hole left by his father and countless lovers suddenly felt full. Nobody understood his way of life like Jin. He wanted to share everything with him. He wanted Jin to know he trusted him and that he can be trusted in return. He needed Jin. He deepened the kiss, tasting the wine Jin had drunk before the show, and wanted more. He turned towards Jin, hands on his broad shoulders as they kissed. 

“Soft or hard?” Jin asked between kisses. “Oral? Anal? I’ll do whatever you like. Just let me have you right now.”

“All of it,” he answered. “Make love to me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want.”

“Be careful what you wish for, angel,” he muttered, a smirk forming as they kissed. 

“-And now,” Taehyung’s voice broke between them, “For the final performance of the night! You’ve watched flayings. You’ve seen amputations. You’ve watched Irene make a frat boy chug acid!" The audience laughed when he paused, "But, my friends, you have yet to see a true artist! A master of torture! A demented genius! The man you know and love who feeds all your greedy, sick mouths!” he laughed at their reaction to his words. “I want you to put your hands together for our beloved head chef, Kim Seokjin!” The applause rose at the name, cheering and whistling. “He’s being accompanied tonight by our all-star chef, Jeon Jungkook!” 

Forced apart, the pair went through the double doors onto the stage. Due to the stage’s height and the set-up, he knew not many people would see the bulges growing in their pants. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed from the sudden heat between him and Jin; he craved more of it, but they had people to entertain. Jin brought Jungkook forward and they bowed to the roaring applause. 

“How are you doing tonight?” Jin asked the crowd. When they answered strongly, he smiled, “I hope you all have been enjoying our delightful show this evening, but, trust me...you haven’t seen anything yet.” He smirked over at Jungkook, who smiled widely at him. “Bring out our final star of the evening!”

Backstage hands wheeled in a short, stocky man. The man lifted his head from his shoulder, eyes heavy as he looked ahead of him. They’d fitted him into a simple shirt and sweatpants. Clearly, Jin did not need a gimmick to impress his audience. Jungkook stood to the side as the voting started. However, Jin had other ideas. 

“I’m not done,” he whispered, pecking Jungkook’s lips. The crowd wolf-whistled and called out seeing the two men share another kiss. “I said I’d fuck you and I meant it.” As the stage hands brought the man into the center of the stage, Jin carefully unbuttoned Jungkook’s shirt. Leaving the last button above his belt done, he slid his hands through the sides. “So hard,” he murmured, “You must work out often.”

“I do.”

“Delicious.” 

Jungkook did the same thing back, tossing Jin’s tie aside and running his hands inside his shirt. Jin moaned softly when a thumb found his hardening nipple. He gently tugged and sucked on Jungkook’s bottom lip as he untucked the shirt. Jin turned him to face the audience, who seemed more focused on Jungkook’s exposed torso than their tablets. Jungkook shut his eyes, feeling Jin’s mouth kiss up and down his neck. He started rubbing Jungkook's nipples to send sparks down his body. Jungkook could not get enough pleasure. When the stage hands coughed, Jin broke away from Jungkook. 

“You can’t get us all hot and bothered like that and stop!” called out Taehyung. “What a pair of teases you are!” he faked a pout, crossing his arms as he did so. 

“Start the vote,” Jin told Taehyung, who obliged them. 

He pressed his hardon into Jungkook, who pushed right back into him. They continued kissing while the guests voted on the man’s fate. He hoped it was a good one. He whimpered once Jin unbuckled his pants and sunk a hand inside. Not taking hold, he merely rubbed lightly over his length. Jungkook reached behind to do the same, feeling the outline of Jin's cock there. They only stopped when Taehyung called out the result. 

“I can feel the love in this restaurant tonight,” said Taehyung. “Our guests have spoken and our final act of the night is ‘Free Play’!” 

“Perfect,” smiled Jin. “What turns you on the most?” 

“You,” he whispered back. 

Jin laughed, “What method, angel?”

Jungkook chose a pipe, which Jin used expertly. They'd chained the man to the ceiling so he dangled around like a worm on a hook. He looked so helpless, sobbing and begging them to stop. Jungkook rubbed himself seeing the thick rod hit each appendage and split the skin open. He saw the hunger in Jin’s eyes as blood and bone began showing through. The pain must’ve woken their victim from his sleepy state, since he began groaning and crying out in each hit. Jin hit the vital areas he’d normally saw through when preparing the week’s supply. Jin then handed him the pipe. Jungkook swung at his torso like a pinata. He saw bruises forming where the skin didn’t break, and shuddered. Each hit was followed by a crack and a moan. The arousal inside him grew seeing the body sway and slowly succumb to the beating. He loved breaking them. It made him feel powerful in those brief minutes. It felt even better with Jin beside him.

However, he eventually grew tired, saying that the meat was tenderized enough, and stagehands took the man back to the table. Jungkook came to the table and immediately latched onto Jin at the side. He kissed Jin's long neck, leaving small hickies here and there, while he undid the man’s pants. He saw the hardness poking into the zipper and he wanted to see more. Jin, in the meantime, began working on their drowsy victim. He pressed a flaying knife to the shoulder, slowly working it off with steady hands. 

“

 chuck is good for pot roasts,” he said breathily. “We can share it tonight, if you like.” 

“Hm, pot roasts take a while,” Jungkook replied, putting his hand in Jin’s pants and stroking him lightly. Jin facing the body, it was hard to fully stroke him this way, but Jungkook liked that. “Yoongi prepared some spicy herb marinade for tomorrow.” 

“Strip steaks with noodles and kimchi?”

“Perfect,” he smiled, kissing Jin again. “But right now, I want something else.”

He tugged Jin’s pants to his thighs so his cock came free of his boxers. The audience called out vulgar comments seeing the pulsing muscle in Jungkook’s hand. He rubbed the leaking tip slowly as Jin finished breaking the last of the bone from the live body. Their victim’s howls of pain drowned out Jin’s deep groan. Jungkook could not resist. He wiped his hand onto the bloody table, then went back to stroking, using the blood as a lubricant for now. Jin coated his fingers in the sticky substance before sliding them into Jungkook's mouth. The guests could see everything due to the cameras on stage. They could see Jungkook slowly suck Jin’s bloody fingers; they could see his own cock pushing in his pants. 

“How about we take him out, huh?” Jin asked in a moan, licking leftover blood from his lips in their kiss. “I want to see all of you.”

Jungkook let go and Jin pulled down his pants. “Oh goodness,” he moaned, wrapping a hand around the shaft, “Look how nice it is. Not too long or thick. You’re fucking throbbing in my hand…” Jin kissed him hungrily, “I can’t wait to see what it looks like when cum is shooting out of it.” He then wiped blood from the body and started stroking him back. They both stood beside the dying body, locked in a passionate kiss as they felt each other. 

“Check out that ass too!” someone in the crowd said. 

“Let’s not forget that,” Jin told Jungkook, who whined as their pleasure mounted higher. “Ass is the best part, isn’t it? Especially this one.”

Jungkook nipped Jin’s neck, moaning when one hand started kneading his ass cheeks. Jin put more blood on his fingers and slid them over his entrance. “Jin…” he moaned, giving Jin’s cock a light squeeze, “Jin, oh my god, like that. Just like that.” He kissed him hard, tongues sliding over lips as they kissed. “Keep working. I like watching.”

Jin turned away, but Jungkook didn’t stop touching him. Both of them facing their victim again, who was barely holding on, Jin started in on the chest chuck pieces, which involved more skinning and separating bones. He stopped rubbing Jungkook’s ass hole and raging cock, but Jungkook could still feel the impression they left behind. Jungkook groaned in time with their victim’s cries; he made sure Jin heard them in his ear. The audience occasionally told Jin to pay attention to his aroused, needy boyfriend, and he did. He’d grab, squeeze and slap Jungkook’s firm ass; he’d spread his cheeks so they saw Jungkook’s tight hole. He’d hold Jungkook close to him, kissing slowly, as he slipped two fingers into him. Jungkook loved how those digits felt inside him; they gently stretched and filled him. Whenever Jin got close to the prostate inside, he’d retract and go back to working. Jungkook wanted his attention all to himself. 

He  sank to his knees, sliding underneath the table, and slid Jin’s tip in his mouth. Anyone sitting up front would be able to see him, which is what Jin wanted. A mixture of precum and metallic blood touched his tongue, and he swallowed eagerly. Jin stopped working, hands on the table as Jungkook rolled his tongue around the pulsating bulb. Smooth on his tongue, he had no trouble taking in each inch until it hit the back of his throat. Some people shouted they wanted a suck next, to which Jin responded:

“You’d end up in a stew!” 

He held Jin in his mouth and sucked tenderly, satisfied by Jin’s low groans. Jin ceased working, put a hand in Jungkook’s hair and pushed him closer to the base. Jungkook held onto his thighs as he focused on relaxing his throat. It felt good. It felt so good. Finally, his fantasies were coming true. He began bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace that awed Jin. Jungkook kept his eyes on Jin as he pleasured him; he wanted him to know how much he enjoyed this. When Jin brought him out from under the table, he gave Jungkook the opportunity to work on the body. He started splitting the rib cage when Jin knelt behind him. Jungkook jumped a bit when he felt Jin spread his bottom and lick between his cheeks. Jungkook’s surprised moan amused the audience in front of him. He could hardly concentrate on sawing the bones as Jin’s tongue rolled around his hole; he nearly stopped when he felt the tip prod him. His balls ached to be emptied, and Jin sensed this. He squeezed Jungkook’s base hard to keep it held back, then licked and teased his ass more. Swiping up blood on his fingers, Jin pushed them back inside and pumped slowly. 

“Jin…” he breathed, hunched over and gripping his butcher knife tightly, “Jin, fucking hell, you’re gonna make me...make me cum, oh my god.”

“Not yet, angel,” Jin said, planting kisses on each buttock. “Not yet. I haven’t fucked you properly.” 

He started pumping his fingers faster and deeper; he started stroking Jungkook in a way that drove him insane. “Keep working,” Jin told him, holding his fingers far inside Jungkook. “You’re not done. The organs are gonna spill out.” 

Jungkook withdrew the lungs and the heart into a metal dish by the table with shaky hands. He nearly dropped one when Jin’s fingers quickened their pace. Whenever Jungkook pushed into them, he’d stop and tell him to focus on work. The meat would go bad if he left it that way, he’d tell him. Jungkook’s knees trembled once Jin wiggled his fingers on his prostate. He thought he might burst right then if Jin did not stop. 

“Uh oh,” Taehyung said, trying to keep himself composed, “I think someone’s about to bust a nut right over that good meat.”

“I don’t think so,” Jin kissed up Jungkook’s crack to the small of his back, “Jungkook wouldn’t cum without being allowed. Right, angel?” 

“I...I-I-I, um ,uh, um, fuck...Jin, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers and standing up. “For me? Pretty please?”

“O-Okay.” 

“Good boy.” 

Jungkook’s hands ended up in the nearly hollowed carcass in front of them. Their victim had died ages ago, pale and lifeless on the bloody table. His fingers slid over the squishy muscles and flesh inside. The thick smell of blood filled his nose, but his senses nearly blocked them out. The desire built in the bottom of his groin. Jin pushed him forward and spread his legs with his thigh. He closed his eyes as Jin rubbed himself over his wet entrance. 

“Such a needy boy,” Jin chuckled seeing Jungkook push himself into the shaft for the tiniest bit of friction. “Isn’t he a needy boy, everyone?” the crowd agreed in cheers. “A dirty, needy, precious baby boy,” he bent to Jungkook’s ear and kissed the outer ridge, “You wanna be fucked now?” 

“Yes,” he whimpered. 

“I can’t hear you, angel. Do you want me to fuck you now?” 

“Yes.”

He dug himself to Jungkook, rutting his hips so that tip brushed on his hole, “Louder. Let them hear you.” 

“Yes! Yes, please! Please Jin, fuck me! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please!” 

Something wet and cold spilled down his crack, then Jin spread it around. Carefully, Jin shoved himself into him. Jungkook smiled softly, feeling himself adjusting to Jin’s length. The eroticism of the moment; the sensual, passionate movements Jin made, felt almost unreal. He stayed still as Jin took him slowly. He kept himself close to Jungkook, muttering sweet words in his ear as they made love. Having Jin deep inside him brought them closer together. They felt like two flaps of skin finally knitting back together; they were two broken bones reconnecting after a clean break. Jungkook pushed his hips to Jin’s quicker, and Jin understood the message. Jin grunted in each thrust; the obscene, slapping sounds of their bodies coming together overtook the small stage. They completely forgot the people watching and shouting suggestions at them. 

“You feel so damn good,” Jin moaned to him, wiping blood over Jungkook’s’ mouth before sticking his fingers inside. Jungkook sucked off the blood and moaned around his fingers. “I wanna fuck you all night...people here or not…”

Jungkook stopped sucking, “And I have no complaints.”

Jin flipped him over on the table. Jungkook felt the blood seeping into the back of his shirt as he leaned on the body. His hand immediately gripped his cock and he stroked while Jin went back inside. The desperation to finish became too deep. He coated himself in thick blood and stroked rapidly. Jin matched the pace, holding Jungkook’s thighs up as he pounded him. Dipping his hand into the body under them, Jin smeared more blood on each of Jungkook’s nipples. The slippery substance made it easier to harden them, but it was Jin’s mouth that amplified his arousal. He licked all the blood from Jungkook’s chest before putting it on his neck and jaw. Jungkook began doing the same: he rubbed it over Jin’s shoulder before sucking it from his skin. To do something so erotic, so intimiate, made them feel closer than before. 

“Please let me cum, Jin,” he huffed in Jin’s ear, “Please let me cum. I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Yes, you can, angel,” he said, kissing and sucking blood from his neck. “You’re taking it so well. You’re doing such a good job. Just hold it a bit longer, okay?”

They continued kissing passionately, living in their blissful moment. Jungkook looked at the enthralled crowd. He noticed a few couples had given into their primal urges as well. One couple cleared off their table and fucked like animals on the table cloth. Another woman bounced in her partner’s lap, her head back in ecstasy. Jimin and Namjoon clearly weren’t immune to it either; he caught them disappearing behind a curtain at the last minute. Taehyung, cock in his hand, watched Jin and Jungkook. Then he caught sight of Jiyong at his usual table. 

“Look how horny you make people,” Jin said, kissing underneath his earlobe. “I bet he wishes he was me right now.”

Jungkook turned to him. Cheeks and neck flushed pink from heat and blood, lips swollen from hungry kisses, and eyes full of desire, Jungkook never saw someone so gorgeous in his life. He pulled Jin to him and they kissed. Their fingers intertwined together as Jin bottomed up into him a few more times. 

“Make him wish he was,” Jin said on his lips. “Make him wish he was making you cum.” 

He let go immediately. Jungkook arched back into the body, blood matting into his hair, as his orgasm exploded. Hot streams sprayed over his exposed, sticky stomach and chest; it hit on his chin, which Jin licked up right away. Every muscle in his body stiffened and contorted to the pleasure inside him. His climax guided his body around, and brought on a never ending flow of moans for Jin to hear. Jin’s shaking arms tried keeping him up over Jungkook, but he then stood straight and pulled himself out. Jungkook kept his mouth open as Jin jerked his wet cock over him. Only a shot or two made it, yet he savored it the way he did the blood and meat under them. Jin trembled and shuddered in each stroke, but he never kept his eyes off Jungkook. Their peaks came down together; the both of them relaxed from the tightness in their muscles. Anyone not in throws of passion clapped and whistled at them. 

“Did we just start a new thing?” Jungkook gave a breathy laugh. 

“Perhaps,” said Jin, kissing him. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I don’t...as long as I can have you to myself after.”

“Of course,” he smiled and pecked his lips. 

He suddenly took in the stickiness of it all. Thank God the slaughterhouse had water hoses. When he finally slid off the table, the tiredness hit him. He looked forward to the steak and noodles Jin had promised, and getting to look at him even more. 

****

Jin’s Kitchen is still one of the best cannibal restaurants in the world. Serving the finest of choice meats, it has wowed critics and flesh-eaters everywhere. Being headed by the renowned chef, Kim Seokjin, the dishes at Jin’s Kitchen are unique, tender and astounding. However, this infamous chef has been  eclipsed by one another incredible cook: his own boyfriend and business partner, Jeon Jungkook. A true master of meats, the young chef could turn any slab of flesh into a work of art. Of course, the artistic duo remained humble. Serving their guests the best dishes is their mission and cooking is their passion. 

‘We love doing what we do,’ said Jeon, ‘And we love doing it together.’ 

You can still catch the chefs working at Jin’s Kitchen every night. Stop by for a plate and a good show.’ 

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanidx #bts #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts jin #jinkook #jinkook smut #jin x jungkook #jungkook x jin #btswritingbingo

[btsmakesmehappy]

MicroWave | 2

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (in future chapter)

Pairing: Agent!Yoongi x Reader (Agent au. Neighbor au)

Word Count: 5,7k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: Y/N is followed by mysterious man, stalker. Yoongi is a fluffball, a protective kind-hearted neighbor. mention of ulterior motives. (let me know if there’s something I missed)

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | completed

Summary: Yoongi can’t help to worry about his neighbor. Not only that she almost burned the apartment down, she also trusts people too much, and yet she doesn’t want people to help her. She is just trouble written in bold and capital and he shouldn’t be acquainted with her. But yet, he makes it his mission to help her with all costs.

Series Masterlist: The Company

A/N: Finally after a long procrastination, I’ve finally finished this story. I wanted to make sure I finish it first or at least have a solid story, because what is plot and outline when you just can write it in any way you like? Shout out to my beta-reader and my forever supporter @arizonapoppy​! thank you for always listen to my story and take care of me. Love you!

Go check the other series because *sst... It’s all connected!

send me an ask if you want me to add you in my taglist <3

It’s ten past eleven in the evening when you set foot on your apartment floor. You don’t usually come home this late, but because you need more money, you took another part-time job in a sandwich shop. It sums up why your week is so busy, college until four, tutoring high school students until seven, part-time job until eleven, and that’s only weekdays. On weekends your schedule is tighter as you hop from a shift at one store to another store, and sometimes you can come home at dawn.

You’re lying if you say those jobs don’t make you tired.

It’s killing you.

But it’s not that you can bargain. You need money.

You look at a plastic bag in your right hand. You decided that since Yoongi helped you with your key situation, you want to give him something. And because you have no time to buy anything, you decided to give him some sandwiches from your store, ignoring the fact that you also got an employee discount for them.

You ring his bell immediately after you arrive in front of his door, hoping that he hasn't fallen asleep yet. And with just a few rings, Yoongi opens the door.

“Y/N, did you just come home this late?” he asks with a creased forehead. He looks fine in (once again) a black sweater. His hair is wet and there’s a towel hanging on his shoulder.

“Yes, it’ll maybe just be this way for a few months, before I’m busy at university again.” You giggle and reach out your hand to give him the plastic bag. “I’m bringing you sandwiches as a thank you.”

Yoongi sighs and smiles. “You don’t really need to. I just-” His smile vanishes suddenly and you can see his jaw clench. He grabs your arms and pulls you inside his apartment and immediately closes the door.

You are caged between him and the door as he hovers over you. You gulp nervously with his sudden action and his proximity. “Yoon-”

“Ssh.” He hushes you with a held-up finger as he peers through the hole on the door.

“Wh-what is it?” you whisper confusedly.

He pulls away from the door and drags you to the living room. “There’s a man following you.”

Your eyes widen. “Wh-what? Who?” Your throat immediately dries out, in contrast with your clammy hands. You didn’t sense anything or anyone in your walk home, and you’ve never been followed before. Is it a robber?

“Just wait here for a minute. I’m gonna check on him.” Yoongi grabs one of his trash bags and walks outside, ignoring the way you reach for his hand.

You follow him to the door, wanting to check it for a moment. But you walk back to the living room, after you become terrified to find someone you know lurking in the hallway. You pace back and forth with uneasy feelings as you bite your nails nervously.

And after a few minutes, Yoongi comes back and you rush immediately to him. “Ho-How is it?”

He smiles softly and pats your shoulder. “I found him wandering in the hall so I challenged him. And then he just ran away without giving me any answer. So he’s gone for now. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You smile weakly and your knees weaken. You plop down to the floor and take a deep breath to control yourself. “Are you sure he’s following me? Maybe it’s just a mistake.” Still, even if you’re terrified, you shouldn’t accuse someone just because he walked behind you.

“I’m not really sure, but he does seem suspicious,” Yoongi replies and holds onto your arms to help you stand again. He guides you to sit on the couch and walks to the kitchen. He’s back with a glass of water, which you accept gratefully. He sits beside you and looks at you worriedly. “You don’t notice anything?”

You shake your head weakly. “What should I do?”

“We need to check if this man really followed you, and after that we can report it to the police.” He reaches for one of your hands and pats it lightly. “Don’t be afraid. I might be wrong too.”

“But what if he follows me again tomorrow?” You look back at him with teary eyes.

Yoongi releases your hand and looks at the plastic bag you brought earlier. “It’s perfect timing. I haven’t had dinner. You should eat it too, it’s too much for me anyway.” He grabs a wrap of sandwich and opens it, then offers it to you.

“Yoon,” you plead. This isn’t the time to have dinner. You almost peed yourself before and you’re sure you can’t go to sleep like this.

He again pushes the sandwich to you, forcing you to take it. “Just eat it first.”

You sigh. Sure you can’t rely on him that much. But isn’t this just rude and heartless to ignore your question? You bite into the sandwich emotionless, a part of you disappointed with him, but another part telling you that you’re just his neighbor. But you can’t avoid tears that threaten to fall from the corners of your eyes.

“Just call me if you see him,” he says lightly as he takes a bite of his sandwich. “No, actually call me when you get off work.”

You look at him with disbelief. Your heart beats fast and you can even hear it thumping through your ears. What did he say?

“You work in the sandwich shop in the main street, right? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Yes.. but why?”

He turns his head to face you. He tilts in confusion. “I thought you’re afraid to walk home alone?”

“I do, but why are you helping me again?”

He stands and ruffles your hair. “Why are you keep asking that question? We’re neighbors right?” He then grabs another wrap of sandwiches and looks at you. “Seriously, you gave me too many sandwiches. Just take this one home with you.”

You look at him with your jaw slightly drop as you receive the sandwich mindlessly.

“Let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, afraid that you’d bother him again. “It’s okay, it’s just a few doors down anyway.”

Yoongi laughs, showing you his pink gums, and you’re sure that it’s the cutest laugh you’ve ever heard in your whole life. “I know, dummy. I need to teach you about the door, remember?”

“Ah. right.” You smile sheepishly. “Or you can just text me the code?”

“Why do you need to write the code? What if someone steals your phone and sees the code?” He folds his arms and looks at you weirdly. “It’s like you write your ATM pin and attach it on your ATM card, isn’t it? Who does that?”

You laugh weirdly and diverts your eyes from his gaze, remembering the piece of paper you with numbers on it that you put with your cards in your wallet. “Haha, yes. That’s totally true.”

Yoongi’s jaw drops and he frowns in concern. “Oh my God. You did it, didn’t you?” He shakes his head in exasperation. “How did you even survive for three years? Is it pure luck?” he mumbles as he walks to the door.

You pout and follow after him, holding your sandwich tightly in your hand. “I heard that!”

“Well, I said it just so you could hear it.” He chuckles and holds the door open for you. “Come on, we have some training to do.”

That night, Yoongi’s eyes and fingers are moving fast in front of his computer, and no, it’s not about The Company.

Tonight, it’s about his neighbor.

His neighbor who somehow always gets on his nerves, and not in a bad way. Or is it?

He’s never met a woman this naive and clumsy like you. Well, he doesn’t really know if naive will do justice to you because sometimes he feels that you’re a little dumb. Sure, he knows that you’re not that dumb dumb, you’re a scholarship student for godsakes. But after a series of encounters with you, he doesn’t even know anymore.

The only thing he knows is that you need to be protected at all costs.

And yes, he will volunteer at a heartbeat.

So, here he is. Hacking into the government’s CCTV recordings to investigate the man in the hallway from before. He’s absolutely sure that the man was following you-- call it an instinct-- but he didn’t want to tell you that since it’ll make you even more afraid. He would tell you if he’s sure and he has enough evidence so you can report it to the police. That was the main goal.

But the universe was doing a strange thing earlier, when somehow he blurted out that he’ll pick you up from work.

It was a little unpredictable even for himself.

He doesn’t usually behave like this.

It’s like, ever since the first time he met you, you sneaked into his head like a computer virus, making him do something he doesn’t usually do.

Why?

His eyes attached to the screen as he searches for you in the footage in front of the Sandwich Shop. And at five to eleven o’clock, he sees you leaving the shop. You walked cheerfully with earphones attached to your ears and backpack on your back, not knowing or caring about the surroundings around you. It’s like you’re in your own world. And watching you almost slip into a puddle, plasters a smile on Yoongi’s face.

But the smile immediately vanishes when his eyes catch a black-hoodied man walking behind you from the corner of the street, like he’s waiting for you. Yoongi can’t see his face, but he wore the same clothes as the man he confronted a few hours ago. He watches silently as the man follows you to the apartment.

It’s weird.

And it sends shivers to Yoongi’s spine.

He can’t see his face, but the only thing he knows is that man is up to something bad. And he won’t let it happen.

“Really, Y/N? Don’t you already have too many jobs?” Rosé asks as she sweeps the floor. It’s Thursday at ten thirty PM, and you’re busy cleaning the shop after hours. She turns her face to you and ties her pink hair up in a ponytail, as she continues, “You’re gonna die of fatigue.”

You giggle. “I’m used to it. And I can’t stop looking for a job with more money, can I?” You turn the last chair upside down and put it on the table. “Just tell me if you know some job openings.”

She puts the broom in the corner and pouts. “And let you leave me in this depressing shop alone? I don’t think so.” She unties her apron and walks to the back of the shop with you following behind her.

You hang your apron on the wall beside the locker and reach for her apron to do the same. You open your locker, letting the rust smell creep into your nose as you grab your backpack. “Just move with me then.” You look yourself in the mirror on the back of the door before you close it tightly. You fish your phone from your pocket, looking at the screen as you walk to the front.

Rosé rolls her eyes, “Yeah right. Like my mom would let me.” She paces faster over to the cashier, “Mom, should I head home first?”

Rosé’s mom stops counting the money and grumbles. “Why did you disturb me? Now I’ve lost count!”

You laugh at their good-natured bickering. “Well, I should head home, then. Thank you, Mrs. Park. See you tomorrow, Ros!” You wave quickly and head outside. You stand in front of the shop, looking again at your phone screen.

Should I call him?

Won’t it bother him?

“I thought you'd call me.” A familiar voice jolts you from your own thoughts. A little smile pastes on your lips as you look at the origin of the voice.

You walk faster towards him. “Why are you doing here, Yoongi?” You can’t hide the little happiness you felt when you saw him. It’s like he’s been away for so long and you finally met him again. And the fact that you saw him last night, doesn’t change how you miss him.

Well, not that you miss him. You’re just relieved to see him again.

“I’m picking you up, just like I promised.” He leans casually on a blue SUV. Just by standing and smiling before you, he makes your heart race. You can’t deny that he looks good in suits, since you usually see him in a sweater. And the way he just loosens his tie slowly is simply breathtaking. He looks different, in a good-- sexy --way.

“Ah right, thanks.” You immediately look at your clothes. You’re like the opposite of him, hoodie-jeans-and-running shoes. Not that they’re bad. Sure, they’re all worn out, but still you feel like an under-dressed sore thumb, standing beside him.

He opens the passenger door for you. “I just took off from work, if you’re asking. This is my work uniform.”

You cough awkwardly as you slip inside the car. “You look nice.”

He enters the driver seat just seconds after and buckles his seatbelt. “Seatbelt, please,” he says softly and turns to you, “or do you want me to put it on for you?”

“I can do it by myself, thank you very much.” You feel heat rushing to your cheeks. “Stop teasing me.”

He laughs and starts the car and drives away. His eyes sneak a glance or two at you and to his rearview mirror. “Have you eaten?”

“I literally work in a restaurant.” You roll your eyes.

“So? Just answer the question.”

You sigh, “No, I haven’t. It was a busy day at work.”

He laughs again, and you believe that it actually becomes one of your favorite sounds. And you’re absolutely sure you’re gonna record it someday. “Let’s have dinner then. What do you want to eat?”

“Hmm. I never eat out…”

He steps on the brake just when the traffic light turns red and turns to you. “What? Like never never?”

You laugh awkwardly and look outside the window. “It’s a little pathetic, isn’t it? I only eat at home.”

He drives again and looks at the street. “Eating premade food at home..”

“Hey! It’s cheap and plenty easy. I’m just too busy, you know.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. “Gukbap? My treat.”

Your eyes widen and look at his pale face. “I don’t need your pity. I’m fine eating at home,” you hiss.

“That’s not what I meant. Sorry.” He sighs. “But I never pity you. It’s just I’m older and a man, it’s a common courtesy. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. We can go home.”

You bite your lips and fiddle with your hands. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just you’ve been too much help for me these days. I just-”

“I understand. You don’t need to feel bad about it. I’m sorry.”

The car again stops at the traffic light. The space is filled with an awkward silence. What a way to thank your savior, Y/N. It’s not that you're mad at him. You’re thankful, a lot. But it’s not the first time you received this type of kindness. It’s either out of pity, or the one who gave it wants something for you. And you don’t know which category Yoongi belongs to.

“Do you want to sleep with me?” you blurt.

Again he steps on the brake harshly, and luckily there are no cars behind you. “What the hell are you talking about?” His jaw dropped. He looked flabbergasted.

You clear your throat and continue, still avoiding his eyes. “Do you?”

Yoongi sighs and you see his cheeks redden under the streetlight. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You’re a beautiful woman. But seriously, what are you talking about?”

Your heart skips a beat with his praise, but you shake your head to knock it from your head. “In the past, I discovered that people wanted to help me because they have some ill-intended purposes..”

He blinks his eyes several times and continues his driving. “Well, that might be true. I didn’t expect you’d have some thoughts like that.” He looks at his rearview mirror one more time and then takes a U-turn suddenly, which makes you look at him quizzically. “But seriously, I just want to help you and get to know you better.”

“Where are we going?”

“Gukbap place. You drained my energy, I need to eat something.” Before you even protest, he continues, “It’s just one dinner, okay?”

You fold your arms and sigh. “Are there any noodles?”

He lets out a small laugh. “You are unbelievable, did you know that? Just try the Gukbap, it’s the tastiest one there.” You nod and look outside, resting your temple on the window in silence.

And Yoongi just can’t help but feel that the sight warms his heart. He wants to reach his hand to ruffle your hair again but he holds it back. Yet, he can’t hold the smile that keeps appearing on his face.

You’re confusing. He’s sure now that you’re not as naive as he thought before, and he doesn’t even want to call you dumb. But one thing that he does know..

That he needs to lose the man who is trailing behind  both of you.

One dinner then turns into two, and seven, and somehow you and Yoongi have dinner together for a month. He always has the way to make you agree to have dinner with him and he always skillfully pays it first. The last part always makes you pout on the way home and it always disappears every time he casually pats your head or holds your waist when you lose your balance on the stairs, replaced with blushes on your cheeks.

And each time you spend with him, your feelings for him grow. He becomes the highlight of your day, the cherry on the top of your sundae, your shelter when you’re rained on. He is one of your closest friends.

So after days of waiting for you outside the shop, he waits inside these days. Rosé and Rosé’s mom happily accept him, since he is not just sitting around. Yoongi always finds a way to help Rosé’s mom, either with her point-of-sale machine, or her phone, or just listening to her stories. And Rosé? She always teases the both of you. She flirts at him at first, but after getting to know him, she stops. Maybe she finds a thing or two when she looks the way you and Yoongi look at each other.

“So I just tap this button and they’ll deliver my food?” Mrs. Park corrects her glasses and looks closely at her phone.

“Yes, you can just input your credit card numbers here or just pay for it when they deliver it,” Yoongi explains as he points to the screen.

Mrs. Park nods and smiles. “I understand it now. You make a good teacher, Yoongi. Rosé would never teach me this.”

“I heard that!” Rosé emerges from the back and rolls her eyes. “I taught her so many times but she never understands! It’s not my fault that she’s a bad student! Back me up here, Y/N!”

“I’m not joining your feud, Rosé. You are my best friend, but she is the one who pays me, so...” You shrug, gaining laughter from Yoongi.

“See? She is not patient at all!” Mrs. Park shakes her head.

The bickering with Rosé and her mom continues, but you don’t even pay any attention to them, as your eyes fall on Yoongi. He wears a brown coat with a hoodie inside, not his usual work attire. His hair is wet, maybe because he got caught in the rain as he arrived at the shop. “I thought you were coming from work,” you say as you turn the chairs.

He rises from his seat and follows you. “I did. It's a casual Friday. What do you want to eat tonight?”

“I’m fine with anything.” Your hand stops and you turn to face him. “But at least I’ll pay for tonight?”

Yoongi folds his arms. “Hmm. Nope.”

You pout. “Come on. I saved so much money because you paid for the dinners before. Let me pay, please?”

He smiles and pats your head. “Let’s see later.”

“Okay lovebirds let’s go home,” Rosé calls from the door. “I need to close the door.”

Yoongi puts up the last chair and pushes you out the door, ignoring the fact that your cheeks reddened. And you mentally take a note to kick her ass. Can she be a little more explicit about it?

Rosé walks to your side and lets Yoongi help her mom closing the shop. “Sorry to disturb you two. I promise I’ll let you borrow the shop next time,” she whispers and winks.

You hit her shoulder lightly. “Can you stop it?”

“Oh right, that reminds me. I got a job for you.” She drags you to the side, knowing the fact that you don’t want Yoongi to know about another job you’d take. “My friend’s brother wants someone to deliver a package to his downtown office. Apparently the last time they used a courier the packages were somehow broken. The package is antique and pricey, so they want someone they can trust. He wanted me at first, but I have class that day. You’re free on Wednesday, right?”

“I think I am.” You raise one of your eyebrows. “It isn’t something weird, right?”

“I don’t think so. I searched the store, and it is really just an antique store owned by an old man. And he doesn’t do deliveries, only pick up. But my friend’s brother doesn’t have time to pick it that day. The pay is good for just that simple job; he looks desperate.”

You nod. “Fine if you’d say so. Just text me the details later.”

“Done, come on let’s go home!” Mrs. Park opens her umbrella and runs to the street. “See you kids!”

“Mom, wait for me! I’ll text you, Y/N! See you around, Yoongi!” Rosé waves and runs after her mom leaving you and Yoongi alone in front of the shop.

You remove your backpack and put it over your head, ready to run in the rain. “So where did you park your car?”

He pulls you from the street. “It’s a little far from here. I’ll get my car.” He puts up his hoodie and zips his coat.

But before he steps out, you stop him. “Why? We should just run together. It’s just a little rain.”

“That little rain is gonna make you sick afterwards.”

You squint your eyes and move closer to him. “But isn’t it more romantic? And why do you think you won’t get sick?”

He laughs and tucks your hair behind your ear. “There’s nothing romantic about it. It’s just plain stupid. And I’m just stronger than you.”

“It’s just more efficient!” you pout. “And you’re just older and taller.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at the street. “I’m just being nice here! Just stop stopping me from taking care of you.”

You can’t help the corners of your mouth twitching and you at least hide it by biting your lips. “Fine.” You step a little closer to him, your chests almost touching. “If you keep doing this, you’ll have a difficult task to lose me afterwards! I’ll stick on you like a troublesome gum under your shoes, or worse, I’ll bug you whenever I want. Do you really want that?”

Yoongi looks down to find your face is just inches away from touching. He gulps awkwardly, never having been so close with you like this before. He enjoys it, with you just a few breaths away from him. How he can count the lashes of your eyelids and how he can see his reflection on your eyes. He enjoys it so much, to the point that he wants to remove any distance as his eyes carefully focus on your pale pink lips.

But he gains his composure, still not wanting to back away from you but keeping his distance. He pinches the tip of your nose softly and smiles, displaying his pink gums to you. “I don’t think I’d want to lose you anyway. I’ll let you stick on me happily and I’ll even give you a name, little bug.”

You gasp and back away from him, jaw dropped and clench your chest, acting hurt “Like a pet?” you ask jokingly.

He laughs and squishes your cheeks. “Just wait for a minute okay?” He runs into the rain, ignoring how you call for him.

You wonder why every time you speak with him, you always lose. Not that it isn’t a bad thing. Like when you put a lot of chilies into spicy noodles and he warned you. Maybe it’s the first time you won an argument with him, even though it was barely an argument. It’s just you being so stubborn and he's just as concerned with you. He let you do what you wanted and as a result you couldn’t even finish half your noodles. He even had to run to a store to buy milk just so you could tone down the spiciness. After that, you were sure that Yoongi knows the future or maybe you’re just plainly stupid.

Therefore, you always do what he says. But that doesn’t mean you will stop disagreeing with him. You do enjoy every little bickering you have with Yoongi and somehow he lets you too. You know that he does all of those things because he genuinely cares for you. Well, at least it’s your own instincts. Both of you never speak about it out in the open.

But you notice how his eyes are drawn to your lips and you see his dilated pupils up close. You’ve never been so sure before: you do have an attraction to each other and the chemistry just falls into place.

But that doesn’t mean you want to let him pay for your dinner.

Tonight, you’ll make sure that you pay faster than him.

“Y/N?” a hoarse voice breaks into your thoughts.

The rain is still falling, raining even harder than before, clouding the surroundings and makes it harder to see who’s calling out to you. You can only see a black silhouette from the corner of your eyes as he moves closer to where you stand. The man stands before you, drenched from head to toe. You just look at him weirdly. A thought sneaks into your mind that maybe the man wasn’t calling you and you’re just hallucinating, and the man is maybe only staying out of the rain, waiting for it to stop.

But the man keeps staring at you even though you turn to look at the street. “How are you?” His voice is sharper than the harsh rain, sending shivers through your spine, not because of his tone, but because you know the owner of the voice. Your eyes widen and you step back unconsciously. Your hands tremble and the backpack falls from your hand.

The man laughs cynically. “So you do still remember me.” He steps forwards slowly. “I still think about you, you know.”

He reaches out his hand to touch your cheek and you freeze, not knowing what to do. And he realizes it too, as he grins bigger and his steps grow more confident.

Tears threaten to fall from the corner of your eyes, clouding your vision. You want to yell but every time you open your mouth you can’t find any voice coming out. You feel weak and disgusted with the way his calloused fingers touch you.

Suddenly a hand swats his arms away from you, and a figure stands in front of you. “Who the fuck are you?” You feel a huge rush of relief filling you as you realize the newcomer is Yoongi. His eyes glare at your stalker, looking ready to ambush him. Yoongi steps slowly closer to the man, his hands balled into fists. “I said, Who the fuck are you and what are you doing touching my woman with those filthy hands?”

But the man doesn’t answer, he just hisses and then runs from your sight.

Usually, as an agent, Yoongi will run after suspects and capture them. He would send the man to the police so that he’ll be processed by law and won’t bother you anymore. Usually he won’t stop until he’s sure that the man is in jail.

But he isn’t an agent right now.

He is just Min Yoongi.

He’s just a man whose heart aches when he sees your pale face before him. He’s just a man who doesn’t want to leave your side just so he can catch some criminals.

He’s just a man who immediately pulls you into his chest to hold you and let you know that you’re safe with him now.

“It’s okay now.” He strokes your back as your tears finally fall. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry.” He repeats each sentence in a soothing tone, hoping they’ll turn into a spell that will stop your tears and your shaking body.

You sob in silence as his warmth envelops you. He holds you close to his heart and you can feel it calming you down. You gather all of your strength to open your mouth and to let out two words that you mean with all your heart. “Thank you.”

Your voice sounds weaker than ever, he notices. He cups your face gently, lifting it so he can see you clearly. Your crying has stopped, and he uses his thumb to brush the tears away. With every touch he makes, he wants you to forget what happened, he wants you to just look at him and only him.

“Can we go home now?” you ask softly; your voice cracks.

His eyebrows crease in worry. He pulls you into another hug, to brush his lips on the top of your head, so light that you don’t even notice it. “Of course, little bug. Let’s go home.”

It’s not the first time you let Yoongi come into your studio apartment. He sometimes brings over some food, wanting you to eat with him when you have no energy left to eat out. He grumbled at first, surveying your small room, compared to his two-bedroom apartment. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, so you suggested that both of you should just go to his room, but he somehow made himself at home by jumping on your bed and reading any books you left on your nightstand. And you just can’t stop him. Not when he was trying his best to force you to eat some food.

But tonight is different. You’re emotionally drained and Yoongi noticed it too since you don’t have any energy left to protest. So he forces you to take a warm bath. As soon as the door shuts behind you, he looks for something to eat in your small kitchen , only to find that all you have are some packs of instant noodles. He doesn’t want you to eat such unhealthy food this late, but at least you’d eat something and it’s better than nothing.

“I’m fine, Yoongi.” you smile weakly, as you finish the broth 30 minutes later.

He pushes you over to the bed after eating. “I know, but I also know that you need plenty of rest.”

“I’ll be fat if I sleep after I eat,” you gripe, but still you snuggle into your bed, moving your body to find a comfortable position.

“I don’t mind. I’ll still accept you,” he says softly as he pulls your blanket to cover you up.

You look at him with a hope in your eyes as you reach your hand to hold his hand, “can you please stay with me? At least until I am asleep?”

Yoongi actually wasn’t on casual Friday. He had been on a mission, and he’s actually pretty tired. All he wanted was just some sleep and maybe some whiskey before that to take the edge off. But with your small hand wrapped in his, his heart thumps, and he doesn’t even care about anything except you. “Sure.”

And so he’s there, sitting on the floor, your lumpy second-hand orange area rug cutting into his legs, watching you as you fall asleep, watching as your breaths even out and your grip in his hand weakens. He carefully removes your hand from his and tucks it inside your blanket. He should close the curtains so your room is darker, but the way the moon shines brightly and accentuates every part of your face just makes him crazy for you. And knowing that bastard was there to touch your beautiful face only angers him even more.

He knows the man. It’s the same stalker who followed you a month ago in the store. It’s the one whom you described as an obsessive ex-boyfriend. But actually, he doesn’t feel like it. Yoongi thinks that the man is way more complicated than an ex-boyfriend who wants to get back together. Call it an instinct.

He needs to know more about it so he can protect you. It’s the only thing he wants: to keep you safe at all costs.

He knows that you’ve finally accepted his help for small things but at the same time he also notices that there’s still an invisible wall between the two of you, whether you know it or not. A wall that prevents him from helping you any further, a wall that conceals all of your problems away from others, keeping them for yourself. He knows that you do it because you are an independent woman, even though by doing so you’re worrisome, and he loves that trait in you. But he wants you to understand that it’s okay to ask help from people and he’ll be there when you need it.

He tucks your hair away from your peaceful face and sighs. If only you looked like this every time I see you. I don’t want anything anymore. He leans in and kisses your forehead softly, afraid of waking you up.

Maybe it’s just a matter of time until you finally fully open your heart to him. Maybe it’s just a matter of time when you can lean on him completely.

If only you’d let me

Read more about The Company here

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[inkedtae]

starfruit ⇾ jhs. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ camboy!hoseok x curvy!reader

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  s2l, livecam au, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  one video is all it takes to realize you’re all he wants.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 20.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ camboy!hoseok, dom!hoseok, big dicc!hoseok, ass enthusiast!hoseok, nose piercing!hoseok, curvy!reader, sub!reader, shy!reader, nipple piercing!reader, vague mention of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, tongue kink, lowkey corruption kink, dirty talk, creampie, double penetration, reverse cowgirl position, sixty-nine position, oral (m. and f. receiving), degradation, overstimulation, mutual masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, use of star shaped vibrator, multiple orgasms, body worshipping, cum-eating, face licking, choking, dry-humping, a lil hair-pulling, spanking, swearing, begging, biting, clit biting, motorboating, fingering, rimming, ass job, ass play, spit play, breast play, a tad bit of jealousy/possessiveness for the win, star sparkling filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ hobi thirst hours:open

✩ banner by ⇾ @dee-ehn​ (thank you again dear~)

✩ beta’d by ⇾ @kitsutaes​ (darling luff~) and @moonmintrails​ (my luffly soulmate~)

✩ le playlist

Blinds shut, doors locked. The routine is second nature at this point. Hoseok dims his lights before checking his hair in the mirror. He sighs at his reflection, hoping this lazy look of his is good enough for tonight’s live. Already shirtless, Hoseok sports baggy, grey sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, while his semi-hard cock is just barely visible. 

A good enough tease, he thinks after one last glance. Or at least let’s hope it is. 

He can’t bring himself to care too much about what is or isn’t “properly shown.” Maybe a year ago, or even six months ago, he would’ve made sure he was completely hard, his bulge unmistakingly visible through his sweatpants, and not have dimmed the lights. Now, however, it seems as though all he wants to do is the bare minimum. He’ll show as much as he needs to, get off as well as he has to, put on a good enough show to keep his viewers satisfied… for now. 

Still, even the bare minimum requires a certain degree of effort. Making his way to his desk, Hoseok scrolls through his phone and turns on his playlist for tonight. The first suggestive song tickles out of the speakers and softly fills the room. Getting off on camera is only half the job of being a camstreamer. Setting the tone, giving the audience an experience to crave, is the other half. 

As The Weeknd’s melody continues to hop between the walls of his bedroom, Hoseok makes sure his camera is properly set. Usually, he’d be making himself comfortable on his bed, preparing a variety of toys by his side to play with. Tonight is different. Tonight, Hoseok lacks the motivation to play around for an audience. In fact, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s been lacking that motivation for a while. Tonight, he wants nothing more than to sit at his desk and use his hand to get himself off. Back to the basics, the bare minimum.

He looks forward to reading comments while he searches for the courage to share his news. He’s been thinking about this for a while, thinking about retiring from this kind of work. After three years of being on this site, he has cultivated a good following of viewers, but now the entire ordeal just seems… tiring. He loves sharing parts of himself to the camera, some more than others, but it feels like a chapter of his life that he has somewhat outgrown. Now, the entire job feels more like a chore. Not much pleasure, besides the one he stimulates himself, can be found before a camera anymore. 

There’s something about the distance between him and others that he somewhat loathes now. Before, Hoseok found the disconnect, the stringless affair of live after live to be a comfort. He believed he could come and go as he pleased. He’d have fun with others at a safe enough proximity to fool around without the fear of catching serious feelings. It was a solid plan, until it wasn’t. All Hoseok craves now is that spark between him and another. And the more time he spends live streaming, the more he realizes how lonely it is. 

His camera starts to flash, signaling it’s going to start recording in about fifteen seconds. Hoseok lets the red gleam pull him out of his thoughts as he stands up. He shoves his hands in his pockets and tenses his stomach a bit. He doesn’t have ripped abs, but he’s fit enough to give off that impression. The light stops flashing, shining a bright red to let him know the live has started. Cutting just under his nose, the camera captures his entire torso and just a bit under his hips. Views immediately pour in as do comments and some cash. 

Hoseok chuckles a bit, watching as viewers beg him to drop his pants. The attention is just enough to get him fully hard. That’s one crutch Hoseok seems to have trouble letting go of; the attention. 

Licking his lips, he starts to palm himself through his pants. He lets out a shaky sigh then pulls his chair forward and takes a seat once again. He leaves some room between him and the desk though as he slouches a bit and makes sure that they can see his hard-on through his loose sweatpants. With the camera rolling, Hoseok has no other choice but to play along, one last time at least. 

“Hey,” he forces a smile. “Everyone ready for a relaxed night?”

[agustwantsthatd] : no toys tonight?

He shakes his head. “No toys,” he replies, continuing to rub himself over his pants. “Nothing fancy tonight. I hope that’s alright.”

Hoseok laughs to himself a bit at the mixed reactions. His aim to have a relaxed evening costs him a couple thousand viewers. In the past, something like that would’ve scared him enough to make him immediately drop his pants and move the show to his bed. But, now, he really can’t bring himself to feel even the slightest bit worried.

Just a few less people to break the news to. 

Comments begging him to just take his sweats off start to stack. Hoseok runs his tongue across his teeth, puffing his bottom lip out while glaring at the comment section. He doesn’t appreciate being told what to do very often. Most of the time, he just does what he wants while talking to some to his audience like he’s fucking them instead of whatever toy he usually goes for. His patience for their attitude is wearing thin. They almost don’t treat him like a real person sometimes, talking to him like an object. It may have been what he wanted before, the distance, the ability to keep himself unattainable, but now it’s becoming something of a pet peeve.

[starfruit340] : it’s only been a day, but i’ve missed you. Hope you’ve been well.

Hoseok only just catches the kind comment before it’s casted off by another pile of demands, smiling at his screen. That Starfruit is always too nice for her own good. All her comments are gentle requests, sometimes even sweet nothings. Once he even caught her asking him how his day was and if he’s eating well. He’s not sure what a sweet soul like that is doing on a site like this. He has realized, in the last six months or so, that she’s been the only viewer to remind him of his humanity. Her ability to look passed the charade of his has been refreshing. He wonders if she knows, if she can tell he hasn’t been his best. 

“Starfruit,” he breathes as comments questioning his sudden smile flood in. “You’re too sweet for your own good, honey.”

[starfruit340] : did he just say starfruit?

Immediately, Hoseok regrets his words, realizing his mistake. Not even a rookie would call a user out by name. A few viewers have turned on the user, bashing her for the favouritism he just displayed. “No fighting or nothing comes off,” Hoseok threatens, raising a brow. A smile plays on his lips as some users scold each other to stay in line. 

[agustwantsthatd] : let’s not forget the real fruit we all want.

Hoseok has to keep himself from laughing at the comment. He doesn’t want to start anything else and that comment seems to be enough to keep everyone focused on him, so he doesn’t want to ruin it’s progress.

“Since you’ve all behaved yourselves,” he starts, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats. “The pants are coming off.” 

He pushes the sweats down, lifting his hips a bit. His huge cock slaps his stomach once exposed, then stands tall. Kicking the pants off his ankles under the desk, Hoseok returns his hand around his veiny member, storking himself a couple of times. 

It seems like his remark to Starfruit has made some viewers adopt her sense of concern for him. They begin asking about his day and if he’s doing well. He bites back the sneer that wavers the smile on his face. Though he would like to believe that their concern for his well being is genuine, he knows they’re only saying that in hopes to get his attention.

Hoseok can’t play around it for much longer. He forces a smile, replying, “My day was fine, darling. How was yours?” 

Slowly pumping himself, he reads a few more comments then lays back in his chair. His usual cocky expression falters, a fact he’s not very proud of. He replies to some more users to cover it up, plastering on a fake smile long enough to avoid any questions on “what’s wrong.” 

Hoseok falls silent, squirting some lube into his hand to help get himself off. He lets a few good moans out, closing his eyes and getting lost in the pleasure rather than focusing on the broadcast. His cock’s getting needier as he just slightly tightens his grip and moves his hand faster over himself. Rolling his hips into his hand, he sucks in a sharp breath.

The void within him cannot be pleased with one lousy hand job. Hoseok tries to refocus his attention on the live stream, hoping he might rediscover that forgotten thrill of exposing himself to everyone. However, the closer he gets to his orgasm, the clearer Hoseok realizes that the only thrill lies merely in the pleasure of getting off rather than doing it for an audience. 

He huffs under his breath and rests his head back against his chair. Forget the camera and the thousands of people watching him get himself closer to his high. Hoseok realizes that if he’s going to cum right now, he’s going to have to attach his loneliness to something, someone other than himself. 

The first person in mind sparkles with kindness and Hoseok tells himself he’s only focusing his energy on her because he just wants to get all this over with already. But Hoseok can’t deny the swirl of excitement bubbling in his chest at the thought of her. He wonders if her voice is just as sweet as her words, eyes just as innocent as her soul. Pumping himself faster, he can’t help but think about her smile. Is it as bright and full of hope as her comments? Or does it delicately twinkle like her personality? 

A staggered moan tears through his throat, adam’s apple bouncing, as his brows come together. Jaw clenches, nostrils flare, and Hoseok groans his pleasure through gritted teeth. Suddenly sprouting out his release, he gasps and rolls his body into his hand. Usually, he’d make a show of this, but he can’t deny it’s truth right now. The shots of cum land over his legs, some even on the ground but for the first time in a long time, Hoseok can’t care less. Chest still heaving, he tries to dump all thoughts of her from his mind but she’s tethered deeper within now. 

Stringing a few curses, Hoseok mentally scolds himself for his inability to think tonight. Any other night, he would’ve pulled up some porn on his phone way before the camera started rolling and hid the lewd video from the viewers’ sight. He would’ve continued on his efforts to carry out the bare minimum.

But, thinking of her, attaching himself to a user he’d never even properly talked to, only further proves to him how important it is for him to leave this life behind. He’s desperate to fill a void and acts recklessly. The determination to break the news hits anew. He’s sure this is it this time. He’s going to tell them.

That determination trickles the moment he returns his attention on the screen. The comment section is going wild. His words get caught in his throat. A rush of cash floods in the tune of clattering coins. Praises follow commands and Hoseok is not sure if he can even keep his screen persona up for much longer, let alone drop the ball about leaving. 

Eyes growing heavier, exhaustion slowly overtakes him. “I’m sorry for the quiet show tonight,” he mumbles, cleaning himself up. “It’s just…”

He stares at the comments, the view count, the amount of cash he made tonight and sighs. His courage falters, so that happy, hopeful image resurfaces. He forces a wide smile and shrugs. “I had a bit of a rough day, but hopefully tomorrow makes up for it. I’ll catch you all in the next live. Sleep well.” 

Hoseok leaves them with the image of his fakest smile as he turns the camera off. His entire mask crumbles when it’s over. After cleaning himself off, Hoseok pulls on his pants and tries to convince himself that it just wasn’t the right time. He just got off to one of the users. He’s clearly not in the right state of mind to announce this kind of decision.

With a sigh, he switches his computer off then the music and crawls into bed. Face buried in his pillow, Hoseok waits for sleep to wash over him and hopes, with every fibre of his being, that the fear of telling them the truth doesn’t follow him into tomorrow. 

A loud yawn leaves Hoseok as he shuffles back into his room. He shuts the door while taking a quick sip of his morning— well, mid-morning coffee. He’s not used to sleeping in since it always happens to throw his entire day off. He would’ve been fast asleep by eleven, but a neighbour of his, a couple of doors down, seemed to have other plans for the night. With all her moaning, Hoseok was barely able to get a wink of sleep. She wasn’t up for long, but just the fact that she had interrupted him in the middle of drifting to sleep was enough to keep him wide awake. Once he’s up, he’s up. There’s not much he could do about it. 

With a tired sigh, Hoseok sets his mug on his desk and logs onto his computer. He makes it a habit to check the live website for new donors and sometimes even replies to some comments left last night. He hovers the cursor over a new post, wondering if a quick broadcast would break the news better. At the chime of a new message, Hoseok’s attention darts to his inbox.

[from starfruit134] : so sorry to bother you

Hoseok brings his brows together. Heart thumping, he immediately recognizes the username. His mind reels to last night, trying to recall if he said your name again. Did he maybe mutter it again when he was caught up in the act of getting him off? His fears intensify as he wonders if any of those viewers followed you into your inbox last night to leave some nasty comments. Maybe some were so hurtful you needed to reach out to him. 

Confusion riddles his face when you debunk all his theories with a simple string of texts.

[from starfruit134] : hope all is well.

Hoseok’s fingers hover over the keyboard for a second. Should he really be engaging in a conversation with you? After all that’s transpired last night, the idea of privately talking to you has his stomach flipping with the flutters of butterfly wings. 

He doesn’t know when he last talked to a girl like you though. And the more he stares at your username, the more he craves the sincere interaction of simply one person getting to know another. 

[to starfruit134] : could always be worse. are you alright? did anyone bother you last night?

[from starfruit134] : no, no one bothered me. i just came to thank you for getting them off my back actually

A little smile plays on his lips upon reading your message. His heart murmurs, stunting his breath a bit by how sweet you can be. 

[to starfruit134] : no need to thank me. 

Hoseok’s about to reassure you that the entire interaction was his fault when you suddenly hit him with a question he wasn’t expecting. 

[from starfruit134] : have you really been alright? you didn’t seem like you were feeling well last night.

You noticed? Hoseok furrows his brows, sitting back in his seat. His fingers brush against the letters as he tries to come up with a good enough lie, but he really can’t bring himself to type one out. He wonders how much you’ve picked up on. Can you see through his entire persona or just the fact that he’s lost the motivation to put in the same effort? 

Swallowing thickly, Hoseok hopes his reply is enough to keep your questions at bay.

[to starfruit134] : just an off day 

[from starfruit134] : ahhh i see.

[from starfruit134] : well, i have something for you. 

[from starfruit134] : has sent a video

Hoseok bites his lip, a single brow quirking at the thumbnail. The first thing he notices is ass. Curved so beautifully, your ass struggles to remain contained in your yellow panties. If he had known you were this thick, he would’ve thought of you sooner. With a tilt of his head, he stares at your plump cheeks, smirking at hints of cellulite and lining stretch marks. A light blush colours his face and he has to pull himself out of the trance of the picture to properly return his attention to your messages.

[from starfruit134] : you must get this a lot. these kinds of videos.

You aren’t wrong. He receives videos like this multiple times on a daily basis. However, not a single one of these people have ever been so… kind. Many of them demand that he watch them, which only turns him off. Yes, maybe once or twice, Hoseok appreciates a guiding hand in his sexual endeavours online. But, off camera, all he wants is to be spoken to with a bit more kindness. It’s for this reason that he usually deletes all those videos without a second thought.

[from starfruit 134] : i don’t mean to bother you with mine. but, you looked so exhausted last night and i wanted to show you how much i appreciate your dedication to still live stream.

[from starfruit134] : also i’d love it if you could tell me what you think? maybe even offer a few pointers? i’m thinking about starting one of my own lives and i just wanna make sure i’m good enough.

The first message has him smiling, but the second one fades any happiness he thought he held. Of course, you’re here for a favour. Were your previous messages about his well-being serious, or were you just buttering him up to get him to comment on your video? Do you even really appreciate his efforts to put on a show? 

His mind laps around a million doubts, but his heart intercepts the discussion with the reminder of your usual attitude and presence. You’re considerate, that fact being clear in the way you’ve always put his needs before yours. And even though he really is just some guy online, you’ve always treated him with a degree of humanity that others lacked. He doesn’t blame them, as he’s admitted to himself that he’s the one provoking their feral reactions. But the fact that you can switch between the two so seamlessly means something to him. A little sigh pushes past his lips. You’ve always seemed sincere enough, so why shouldn’t he give you the benefit of the doubt? 

Hoseok sits back in his chair and rubs his chin, staring at that thumbnail. Just from a first glance, he knows you’d do well. A lot of the cam business centres around superficial tendencies and he can’t deny your beauty. He could easily ignore your message, like he does with others, or pretend to have viewed it and reply with a single word, “good.” But, something within him can’t let you go that easily. 

Licking his lips, Hoseok reaches for the lube. He’s getting hard anyways and there’s still a whole day before his next live. After putting on his headphones, Hoseok takes a deep breath and starts the video, full screening it to make sure he gets every angle of your ass. 

Lights dimmed, you smile shyly at the camera. A string of star shaped lights twinkle behind you, illuminating your room with a sensual glow. The quiet beat of a suggestive song can only just be picked up by the camera as you run a hand through your hair and toss it to the other side of your head. You’ve created quite an ambiance for him, one he definitely finds himself craving. 

“Hi,” you giggle, biting your lip nervously. “I hope this is okay. I’ve never really done this before. You make it look so easy every night.” 

Hoseok can’t help but smile with you, setting the lube down to just admire your cuteness for now. He just knew you had a stellar smile. Someone that nice has to have a cute smile to match it.

Fuck, she’s adorable. 

He can’t keep his eyes off yours, even with your breasts squished in that tight shirt of yours. You have this endearing innocence that he’s not so used to. Dressed so slutty, looking so precious, you sit at your desk with your bed behind you. Hoseok is suddenly charged with the urge to ruin you, just laying you down on your bed and dicking you down so good, you’d never want to leave his side. He’s not really sure what you were so worried about. It’s rather obvious to him that you’d do great as a camgirl. Yet, the thought makes his heart twinge. 

“Hmm,” you hum, looking up. 

Hoseok can’t believe how cute you look even when you’re just thinking. He glances at the time of the video, cursing himself when he sees it's only been ten seconds and he’s already whipped for you. He wonders if this is an act, if you know exactly what you’re doing. One look into your nervous eyes let’s him know you’re clueless to your own charms.

“Well, I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time. You looked…” you trail off, chewing on your lip before slightly shaking your head and changing the course of your sentence. Still, Hoseok can fill in the blank you’ve left. You can tell he’s been off his game, he concludes. Now the question remains: how long have you known?

“I just wanted to know from the best if I’m cut out for this kind of…” Pausing, you search for the right word. “Fun.” 

With a deep breath, you let your shoulders fall a bit and let your gaze wander only to look back at the camera like you just remembered something. “Oh, I guess I should show you what I’m wearing first, right? Why am I asking? He can’t reply.”

Hoseok chuckles a bit at your little rant. He licks his lips to whisper, “it’s okay, honey. Show me what you’ve got.”

As you get up, Hoseok shifts in his seat. Jaw going slack, he has to remind himself to breathe. You stand up and show off that tiny, little yellow crop top you’re wearing with those matching lace panties that hug your curves all too well. Fisting his hands, Hoseok lowly growls, wanting to rip them right off while he’s thrusting into you. He knows he’s barely seen anything yet, but he’s already nudging his underwear off. Inhaling a sharp breath, he watches his screen intently as you slowly show off your body. Giving your back to the camera, you cup the underside of your ass then use your fingers to shake each cheek. Your ass jiggles even though you’ve barely touched it. 

“Oh, shit,” Hoseok sighs, melting back into his seat. How the fuck can it move like that? With each shake, your cheeks bounce up in waves. He rests a hand over his mouth, brows furrowing, as he watches you tease the fuck out of him. At least three new ways to fuck you come to mind every time you shyly look over your shoulder at the camera.

You give each cheek a good rub then stand with your legs hip length apart and lean forward enough to just stick your ass out. Hoseok’s just about to wonder what you’re up to when you start to bounce a bit on the balls of your feet. The waves return, ass clapping loudly, effortlessly with each jump. Hoseok has lost all ability to give a shit if his roommates are home or not. He groans out at the sight and tilts his head a bit, thinking it’s going to give him a better view. 

You’ve perfected that move. Catching glimpses of cellulite, Hoseok smiles to himself at your natural beauty. He almost forgot you were a natural girl. He wonders how natural you’ve left your pussy for him.

As you continue to make a show of your ass, his hand hovers over the timeline of the video. He debates on whether or not he should just skip to the parts where you’re finally naked and pleasing yourself to the thought of him. But, with every second that you clap or shake your ass, Hoseok concludes that he really doesn’t want to miss a second of you. Moving his cursor to the side, Hoseok settles on letting you tease him for a little while longer. 

You giggle as you look at the lens over your shoulder and stand up straight again, suddenly getting shy. Hoseok smiles and chuckles a bit with you, not able to resist how adorable you are. He lets out a hissing sigh, trying to figure out why the fuck this didn’t happen sooner. The thought of you last night got him off, the sight of you this morning has transported him into uncharted grounds. He’s never sure what he should be doing. Sometimes, he’s too entranced by your beauty to do anything at all, and other times his hand acts on his own. Taking a deep breath, Hoseok decides to simply stroke himself a bit for now, watching as you pick up the camera and set it up just in front of your bed.

You crawl over the sheets, oblivious to how good of an angle the camera has of your ass. “I just finished watching your live and I didn’t touch myself just so I can show you how wet you get me,” you say as you seat yourself in front of your pillows and spread your legs. 

Hoseok mutters a quiet, “oh god,” when his eyes fall on the big, dark wet patch between your legs. Even your inner thighs look slick and sticky. You pull the hem of your panties aside to show him the mess he’s made. Hoseok smiles when he sees that you’ve trimmed the hair up for the most part, leaving a little patch on the top part of your pussy. Fate is cruel to present his perfect girl yet keep her so far away. Hoseok can’t fight the frustration festering in his heart at the reality of your separate worlds. 

But as you continue your discovery of pleasures, Hoseok can’t dwell on the misfortune of your shared distant fate. You’re too cute to deny attention, not like Hoseok has much of a choice to do so when you’re offering yourself up to him on a star speckled platter. 

You tug on your folds with your other hand, fingers in the shape of a ‘V,’ to properly show him how ready you are. Swollen and sensitive, your pussy is drenched with your wetness. 

His eyes twitch, roll back at the sight. Never has he been this fucking turned on before. He huffs a breath, trying to regain his composure as you further spread your legs. Biting on your lip, you look to be lost in thought, looking up at the camera in wonderment. 

“Hmm,” you hum again, making Hoseok’s heart flutter. “I think I’ll just take this off. Might be easier to play that way,” you give him a single shoulder shrug. 

Hoseok lowly moans and nods. His strokes become a bit fast as he watches you pull your panties off and toss them somewhere in your room. Keeping your legs spread, you pull up your shirt and expose your breasts. Hoseok pauses the video, removing his hand from his already twitching cock as he leans his elbows on his desk. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm himself down because he knows that if he doesn’t he’s going to cum just from the sight of your duality. 

Sneaking a glance at your frozen image on his screen, Hoseok quietly moans to himself. Your shirt is still on but rolled up to display your tits. He can’t believe that someone as shy and innocent as you also has a nipple piercing. He can definitely tell that you have a slutty side, but you don’t like showing it often. The fact that you’re even exposing yourself to him like this is enough to make him want to have you all for himself. He’s not usually possessive but he just can’t stand the thought of you posting videos like this for everyone else. 

Playing the video again, Hoseok sits back up in his chair and just watches you for now. He decides he’s not going to touch himself yet until he sees you finally start to play with yourself. He wants to see you enjoy yourself first before indulging in his own pleasures. He also figures it might be the best way to hold off on his impending orgasm.

You shyly smile at the camera and pinch your nipples, rolling the buds between your fingers. Hoseok smiles, groaning to himself as you quietly giggle and bite your lip. He can see that, in this moment, you’re putting up an act, and he’s loving it. It’s not as adorable as when you’re unintentionally cute and nervous, but it’s just as sexy. 

Nervously sliding a hand down to your pussy, you cup your pierced breast with your other hand and gently massage it. You land a few light slaps on your pussy, moaning louder with each hit. Hoseok’s drooling, though he doesn’t pay much mind to that. Completely enthralled by the sight of you looking so pleased, he doesn’t even realize he has leaned forward so close that his face is only a few inches away from the screen. All he can think about is burying himself between your legs and drowning in your pussy. 

A high pitched moan escapes you as you start to lazily rub your clit with your fingers. Your other hand moves from your breast to rest behind you as you lean back and get yourself comfortable. Gazing down at your own work, you moan again, sighing contently as you gather more of your wetness and further rub it against your needy bud. 

Pause. 

Hoseok leans back in his seat, rubbing his face with his hands. If you were here right now, he’d seat you on his lap and help guide your bounces on his throbbing cock. What kind of game do you think you’re playing? You have to know how fucking hot you are. Hoseok begins to wonder if you’re even really looking to get pointers or if you’re just here to show off. You’ve already set the scene, and look the part. There’s not really much left to it. Maybe his use of your name last night switched something in you. However, judging by how nervous you are, he assumes you must really be looking for pointers and not just showing off because he noticed you. Though, if he’s being honest with himself, you’re too fucking hot to not know it yourself. 

He chews on his lower lip as he debates on what he should tell you. Just a couple of minutes in and Hoseok is willing to transfer all his funds to you if you were a live streamer like he was. But the idea of sharing you with everyone else is not something he’s particularly fond of. Pushing that thought aside, Hoseok ignores the disheartening feeling swimming in his chest from the mere thought of someone else witnessing your precious figure like that. He decides to simply focus on the video and not take you out of its context so much anymore. You’re just some hot girl on a screen, he tells himself, nothing to be overtaken by.

Play. 

You slap your pussy again, squealing giggles then looking up at the camera shyly. Hoseok blushes, licking his lips at how fucking cute you are. With a gasp, you look between the camera and your pussy. Hoseok furrows his brows, wondering what’s got you all worked up now. You shift closer to the edge, grabbing the camera and bringing it down to your wet pussy.

Hoseok’s face flushes red as your entire wetness is in HD. He assumes this must be what his view would be like if you were here with him right now. However, that’s not what’s got him all choked up and breathless. You move your fingers up off your pussy and Hoseok growls loudly at the sticky string of juices that connects your pussy to your fingers. You giggle, in the process of placing the camera back in it’s spot when he pauses the video once more.

This can’t be real. No one this hot has ever even looked at him twice. Those other girls that flood his inbox are beautiful but you’re fucking enchanting. Fuck, not taking you out of context. You did that yourself when you sent him this video looking that cute and irresistible after a handful of messages worrying over his well being. You’ve made yourself more real than your video, obscured his senses with your endearing personality and beautiful body. 

Minimizing the full screen for a second, Hoseok clicks back to his inbox in a different tab and deletes all the other videos from the other girls, even resorting to blocking them, leaving your messages behind. He clicks back to your video, full screening it again. He’s decided: you’re all he wants.

After playing the video again, Hoseok leans forward and watches as you reset the camera on your bed and lay back into your pillows. 

“I’m wet enough for a toy,” you think out loud, making Hoseok smile. His cheeks hurt a bit from how much you’ve got him grinning throughout the first three minutes of your video. 

You reach into your night table, grabbing a yellow star shaped toy, bulky with curved edges, from the first drawer. You show it to him with a smile, and he breaths a chuckle, completely taken by your charming antics. You shove the toy into your mouth, wetting it even more and lean back over to reach for something else. Legs still spread, pussy still glistening, you rummage through the drawer for a moment longer. 

Though your cunt is on full display for him, Hoseok focuses his attention on your face, enchanted by how cute you look when you're focused on something. You have the long string of the yellow toy dangling out of your lips, looking like you’re sucking a lollipop as you finally find what you’re looking for and pull it out to show it to the camera. The long, golden cylinder remote operates the vibrator, Hoseok realizes. 

Taking the vibrator out of your mouth, you set the remote down. You move the wet toy between your folds, drenching it in your juices before tugging on your pussy’s lips and shoving the toy in. Your brows furrow, mouth hangs open as you slowly slide it in, squealing in the process. You swallow thickly once it’s in, the rubber line hanging out of it just like it did in your mouth. 

“If you were here,” you start as you pick up the remote again. “I’d let you control it.” Smiling to the camera, you flip your hair off your shoulder and suck on your bottom lip. 

“Let me?” Hoseok questions under his breath. He can tell from the way your eyes sparkle with mischief that you’re choosing your words carefully. You’re egging him on, knowing he’s the dominant type. As you turn the vibrator on at its lowest setting, Hoseok can’t shake the feeling that you’d love the feeling of his tongue between your folds, maybe even a bit lower. Watching you make yourself comfortable, he scoffs, “Honey, I can ruin you.” 

You keep the remote beside you as you close your eyes and enjoy the little stimulation. Hoseok pumps some lube in his hand and starts to stroke himself again, wanting to match the same level of stimulation you’re getting to feel as though he’s there with you. You must have been getting a bit impatient with yourself though, because not even seven seconds later, one hand is on your clit, rubbing harsh circles around it, while the other is on the remote, turning up the intensity of the vibrations.

Caught in the pleasure, your thumb trembles over the buttons, the vibrator suddenly being heard clearly over the camera. With the loud hum of your toy and the symphony of moans escaping you, the music can barely be heard. It’s just you, him and that star shaped vibrator you’ve seemed to lose all control over. A screech tumbles out of you as the remote falls out of your hand and onto the floor. You let out a moan of frustration while the vibrator goes crazy inside you. 

Hoseok can’t help but smile at your horny, clumsy state. He’s so enraptured by your annoyed yet pleased sounds that he doesn’t even realize he’s been jerking his cock to a fast pace for the last little bit. 

You lay back in your pillows, seemingly accepting your fate as your body jolts and eyes roll back with every buzz of pleasure. High moan after moan tears out of you. You beg him to never stop, grinding your hips up and Hoseok can’t help but wonder what he’s doing to you exactly in your mind that’s making you this needy. 

“O-oh, fuck yee-eess,” you manage to whine. You have your arms framing your breasts, pushing them together for him to admire as you get yourself off. While one hand gingerly plays with one of your nipples, your other hand rests near your mouth, sucking on your trembling fingers like you’re trying to stay quiet. 

“Fuck, just scream,” Hoseok whispers under his breath. What he’d give right now to have you scream his name. He moans loudly at the sight of your riling on your bed, so captivated by your pleasure, as he jacks himself off at a speed he never thought he could. 

Your moans get higher pitched by the second and Hoseok realizes that you’re getting closer. Hips shooting up, you finally cry out all your moans and whines as you cum. Hoseok’s eyes widen at the sight, breathlessly whining to himself as you roll your hips up to ride your orgasm out. 

Face lost in the pile of pillows behind you as you throw your head back, all Hoseok can really see is your slick gleamed pussy. Hints of your orgasm leaks out of you before you flip to your side and pull your knees up to your chest. Whimpering quietly into your pillow, you bounce a bit on your bed. 

Hoseok swallows hard. Going to lick his lips, he notices another trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t make an effort to wipe it away, one hand too busy pumping his needy cock while the other’s clutching onto the chair’s armrest. Knuckles whitening, he tightens his grip and lets out a dark moan at the sight of you overstimulating yourself because you’re just that needy. 

Sitting up again, you run a hand through your hair and try to spread your legs. They’re still shaking; you’re still shaking. Eyes wet with horny tears, you let a few loud moans slip pass your pouty lips. “Fu-ck,” you stutter, eyes rolling back a bit as you hold onto the underside of your thighs. He can tell you’re doing your best to keep your pussy visible for the camera. You’re trying desperately to hold your legs apart, but with all that uninterrupted friction, you’re struggling. Knees knocking together, blocking your breasts and pussy from view, you can’t seem to keep your body under control. 

All previous attempts to remain quiet have fully been discarded. As Hoseok previously requested, you start screaming out your pleasures. Falling back into your pillows, body shuddering, you put all your strength in pulling your legs apart and scream at the instant pleasure it provides. Hoseok furrows his brows, chest heaving as he watches you toe the line of your next orgasm. 

You start to rile in place again, choking on a sob-like moan. Hoseok lets out a little sigh at the sound, swearing to himself that it sounds all too familiar. He doesn’t dwell too much on the familiarity, though, as you enjoy your next high. 

Then you suddenly sit up, eyes wide. “Holy shit,” you practically sob, quickly pulling the vibrator out and letting all your juices squirt out of you. You hold the vibrator to your clit and cry out as your release sprays all over you, the bed and the camera. Shutting your eyes, you stick your tongue out to catch a quick taste of yourself before looking back at the camera and squealing. 

Hoseok jumps back a bit, as if he too is getting squirted all over. His orgasm suddenly overtakes him just from the sight of you tasting yourself then trying to save the camera all while still holding the vibrator to your clit and squirting whatever you have to offer. The way you’re still desperate for stimulation even after possibly ruining your camera has him almost shaking. Ropes of his cum fall all over his desk, streaking his screen and keyboard, but he couldn’t care less. You’re both a fucking mess and he likes it that way. 

You finally discard the vibrator, letting it continue to buzz on your bed and fall back. Your body shudders a bit and you bring your knees up to your chest, letting your orgasm course through you for a minute longer. “Well, shit,” you whisper to yourself. Slowly, you unfold yourself and sit up to wipe the camera off with the hem of your shirt. Laying back onto your pillows, you’re breathless, eyes heavy and breasts heaving as you giggle quietly at the lens. “I don’t know if you could tell, but that wasn’t supposed to happen. Maybe I’m not cut out for this camgirl life afterall.” 

You’ve got that shy look in your eyes again, and Hoseok only cleans his screen to get a better look at you. He’s still pumping himself, not completely drained and satisfied just yet. And though you look a bit fucked out, he can tell that you can definitely go for another round. But, you don’t. Instead, you brush the hair out of your face and pull your shirt down. He groans as your breasts disappear from view. 

“I-I think I’ve kept the neighbours up for long enough,” you nervously giggle before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

Hoseok huffs, sitting back in his seat. Another couple of rounds won’t make a difference then, will it? He thinks to himself as you wish him well and hope you’ve done a good job. A breathy chuckle escapes him at your words. He can’t believe you could be this clueless to your own charms. It’s clear to him, as it would be to anyone else who would watch your lives if you were to make them, that you’re absolutely perfect. 

Glancing down at the throb between his legs, Hoseok finds himself hardening once again just from the thought of you. The last stilled image of you reaching back to turn the camera off, a clear shot to your breasts, nipple stud in full view, has him squirming in his seat a bit. 

From the yellow glow of your username, Hoseok knows that you’re still online. But with his cock still craving another round of your beauty, he decides against giving you an answer yet. He tells himself he needs to watch your video one more time. Or maybe even three. Just to be sure. 

After wiping his desk down from his last orgasm, Hoseok restarts the video. He pumps a bit more lube in his hand and smiles as you greet him through the camera. 

“Hi. I hope this is okay. I’ve never really done this before. You make it look so easy every night.”

You sit atop of the washing machine, your roommate, Minh, across from you. After how your night ended, you needed to wash your bedding. Upon hearing you mention leaving this morning, she decided it’s time to clean her laundry too and tagged along. You don’t really mind it. All you hope is that she doesn’t ask too many questions about why you’re washing your sheets earlier than usual. 

You knock your feet against the washer window and try to soothe the quick beats of your anxious heart while she reads peacefully. It’s been exactly four hours since you’ve sent him the video you took of yourself last night. You know he’s online. The golden glow of his name tells you as much anyways. You’re not sure if he has looked at your message though. Maybe he’s ignoring you, or worse. He’s blocked you. You swallow back a nervous lump in your throat at the thought and tell yourself that you’re being ridiculous. 

“Stop,” Minh sighs, looking up from her book. 

You still your legs, muttering a quiet apology. As she turns back to her book, you wonder if it was your mention of last night that’s thrown him off. He did look uncomfortable, most of the time lost in his own world. But, maybe he didn’t want anyone else to know that. Maybe the fact that you brought it up has turned him off. 

BUZZ!

Your heart nearly tumbles out of your chest at the sound. Hands darting to the phone, you quickly unlock it to look at your notifications. Your eyes light up when you see his username. Lips trembling, you tap the notification and wait anxiously for the app to load to his message. 

[from hopeonthescreen340] : i can’t imagine a moment of you like this being a bother

A little gasp escapes you at his response. You blink, once, twice, three times, trying to make sure that what you’re reading isn’t just some hopeful thinking you’re projecting simply because you find yourself completely and utterly infatuated by him. Reading the message over and over again, you try your best to fight off the smile playing on your lips. You know full well that you can’t come up with something witty to send back if you get all giddy. 

His comment is cute but you got an earful from Mrs. Jiwoo across the hall asking that you bring men over at an earlier time to get that over with sooner. Minh was completely confused, having spent the night out with a few friends. You had to later explain to her that Mrs. Jiwoo has no idea what she’s talking about. And though both conversations were mortifying, you’re somewhat relieved Mrs. Jiwoo didn’t think you were alone, getting off to some guy on a screen, and that Minh bought your excuse. 

[from hopeonthescreen340] : i think this site would crash if you started up your own livestream honey

The pet name has your knees knocking just as it did last night. You still can’t believe he said your username and spoke to you through his live. Sure, it resulted in some backlash, but having his attention like that was like nothing you’ve experienced before. 

Looking around, you make sure you haven’t caught Minh’s attention. She remains unbothered, flipping a page in her book. Glancing back down at your phone,  you let out a little giggle. Is this really happening? This guy must get tons of videos like the one you just sent, tons of people must throw themselves at him like you indirectly did. With that thought suddenly in mind, you wonder if he’s merely telling you all this to be nice. Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings and is talking you up just to keep you away. 

[to hopeonthescreen340] : you really mean it? 

You type and delete the message a couple of times before finally sending it. Chewing on your lower lip, you watch the three floating bubbles wave as he types out his reply. Did that sound too desperate? Your fingers tremble over the keyboard again as you let out a shaky deep breath. No. You mentally assert. Why would he lie? If he wanted to get you off his back he would have ignored your messages, maybe even deleted them all too. He has nothing to gain from lying to you. 

[from hopeonthescreen340] : with all my heart

You bite back a giggle, in the middle of typing out a reply of gratitude when he sends another message that has you shaking again. 

[from hopeonthescreen340] : but i don’t think you should host a livestream

Defeated, disheartened, disillusioned, you scoff at your phone. Is he playing games? Is that what he’s up to right now? Slouching, you knit your brows and glare down at your screen. 

[to hopeonthescreen340] : thought you meant what you said?

[from hopeonthescreen340] : i did 

[from hopeonthescreen340] : i do

[from hopeonthescreen340] : youre just a little too innocent for this kind of scene

You shake your head, dryly chuckling in disbelief. What kind of backhanded compliment is that? Too innocent? Yes, maybe you were nervous in the beginning but you thought that the rest of the video was pretty good. Heart sinking, you can only stare down at your phone. 

How could you not see this coming? You sent your favourite camboy a video of yourself with only the best scenario in mind. How could you so easily disregard the possibility of being rejected like this? Running a hair through your hair, you type a quick, plain response. 

[to hopeonthescreen340] : k. thanks.

Putting your phone away, you turn back to laundry. With a ding, you hop off the machine with Minh and get to drying. The warm, freshly cleaned sheets will probably be the new highlight of your day. So the sooner you finish cleaning them, the quicker this day will go by. Or, at least that’s what you hope.

A tired sigh fills the living room as you switch the channel again. Snacking on some cherries, you’ve taken to eating your feelings away. You’ve already gone through two packs of blueberries and a pack of strawberries. Your lips are smeared with the cherry juice and fingernails stained red. 

As you change the channel once more, your mind wanders back to the messages. Maybe he’s right? Maybe you are too “innocent” or whatever to be a regular on a livestream. You roll your eyes at yourself, knowing that’s not what’s got you so tired of the day. 

The truth is you never really had your heart set on being a livestreamer. You know deep down all you really wanted was some more attention from an online crush. You wanted to feel beautiful to him, wanted to know he was losing himself to the thought of you. To have him crave you like you crave him was your real intention behind that video. And now that you know that’s not the case, you can’t help but feel riddled with regret and stupidity. You should’ve taken what you could, taken the use of your username as the flirty, casual comment it was meant to be. You took him out of the context of the live stream too soon, too quick. You’ve got your hopes up and all you have left to show for it is cherry lips and fingertips. 

The vibrating hum of your phone pulls you out of your thoughts. You grab a tissue and wipe as much of the fruit off your hands before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“It’s busy here. I’m probably gonna be home late.”

You glance out the window, judging how dark it already is. The sun’s already setting, swirls of golden peach hues taking over the darkening sky. Minh’s not usually home before dark anyways, but you appreciate the call either way. “Alright. There’s some leftovers for you when you get here.”

“Great, I’m starved. Hey, did you check the mail?”

You bite on your lip to hold back a forgetful sigh. “Mhm,” you lie, slowly getting up from your spot. You tiptoe your way to the door and try to pick up your keys as quietly as possible. 

Minh must’ve heard the lie in the sudden high tone of your voice or the jingle of the keys because her scoldings soon followed. “I told you to check it four times before I left. It’s probably full now. You know I’m waiting on a package. How is it supposed to fit if mail from a week ago is still in there?” 

“I’m getting it right now. I promise!” you reassure. 

Minh sighs and mutters a “you better” before hanging up. 

You sigh and toss your phone on the table by the door, heading out to get Minh’s precious mail. You were going to suggest that she just pick it up on her way to the apartment once she’s off her shift, but the last time you did that, she scolded you for not doing your half of the chores. You figured it’s better to just go do it yourself. 

Lost in thought, you don’t realize you’ve left barefoot. And, to top that embarrassing realization, you also left behind a sweater, cardigan, something to cover yourself with as all you have on is a pastel yellow tank top and a pair of matching lounge shorts. Annoyed with yourself, you figure it's much easier to just quickly go grab your mail now instead of riding the elevator up and down. 

You pad the cold ground of the building’s lobby, rushing to the foyer before someone can see you. After fumbling with the keys for a couple of seconds, you finally find the right one and unlock your mailbox. 

“‘Scuse me,” a voice mutters to your left. 

You keep your eyes locked on your mail. For some reason, you figure that if you don’t make eye contact with the other tenant, then you’d face less embarrassment. So, you mumble an apology and side stepping to the right all while keeping your head low. Your plan seems foolproof until he quietly thanks you in a deep voice all too familiar to ignore. That lively tone laced in a tired voice tickles the curve of your spine, making you roll your shoulders back.

Curiosity always seems to get the best of you. Trailing your gaze up his frame, you think he doesn’t look that familiar until- 

“Oh god,” you whisper. 

He turns to face you, face dropping when he recognizes you as well. You bring your letters up to your face, shielding yourself from the shame and embarrassment of coming face to face with the man that subvertly rejected you online. Peeking above them, however, you can’t resist the urge to check him out. You tell yourself it’s to make sure it’s really him, but you know full well that you just want to get a good look at him. 

Loose grey sweatpants, baggy white shirt, black hair in its usual middle part, exposing just the right amount of forehead to get you wet from just one glance. Oh, and that little, silver hoop pierced into his nostril. It looks even more heavenly in person, as does he. Yeah, it’s definitely him. You can feel your heart taking residence in your throat as you meet his dazed gaze. 

“Oh my god,” you repeat to yourself in a whisper. Glancing between him and the key in his mailbox, you can’t believe he lives in the same building as you. You’ve been watching his videos for about six months now. Never had you seen him around your building before, not even a bump in the elevator. 

“Starfruit,” he mutters, sounding surprised himself.

For some reason, the nod to your username draws a little mewl out of you. Your eyes widen the moment you realize what you’ve just done. His brows shoot up, the tips of his ears tinting red. 

“I’m sorry,” you rush out. “I, um, I didn’t mean to do any of that.” 

His expression immediately softens, a little smirk gracing his lips as he scans your figure. You shift your weight from foot to foot, eyes averting to the mailboxes as his eyes lock on your hips, drinking in the way your shorts sit on your curves. You can feel his eyes soon trail up and linger on your breasts. You internally scold yourself for resting your shoulders back and puffing out your chest so he can get a better view. Even after all that’s transpired, you still can’t help but throw yourself at him. 

He doesn’t seem to mind that, however, shamelessly staring at how your cleavage peeks out of your pastel yellow tank top. Clearing his throat, he snaps his gaze back to your face as if just remembering that you’re watching him stare at you. “Uh, there’s no need to apologize,” he shrugs before turning to grab his mail too. 

“I didn’t know you lived-”

“Me either,” he cuts you off, biting his lip when he realizes what he did. He lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes his head. “Uh-”

“I wouldn’t have sent anything if I’d known,” you explain. Shutting your mailbox, you lock it once more and remove your key all while continuing to hold your mail over your face to hide your shame. 

His smile somewhat wavers as he tilts his head to get a better look at your face despite the presence of your mail in front of it. “Why?”

You clutch onto your keys, avoiding his gaze as you reply, “well, um, it’s just a bit embarrassing to send that kind of thing to someone in your building.”

“And it wouldn’t be to a stranger?”

You sigh and finally meet his eyes. “For all I knew, you were on the other side of the world. I didn’t risk much when you rejec-” You cut yourself off, clearing your throat. “It’s just different when it’s to a stranger.”

He shuts his mailbox too, dryly chuckling at you. He gives you one last once over, licking his lips, before walking past you. You furrow your brows, confused eyes following his tall frame back to the building’s lobby. You can’t help but wonder what the look was for. Did you say something wrong? Maybe that whole thing about strangers was offensive? 

“Wait,” you call after him, following his steps to the elevator.

He pushes the button then spares you a side glance as he shifts through his mail. You curl a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly grabbing his attention. His eyes lock on the simple action, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. 

You hold your mail to your chest, letting out a little sigh, then muster the courage to say. “Look, I’m just sorry I sexualized you.” The honest confession has you gulping, looking at the floor in the hopes that it will open up and swallow you whole just to get you out of this humiliation fest you’ve got yourself lost in. “It’s just easier to feel less guilt about it through a stranger’s live stream rather than a neighbour’s.”

The elevator rings, signalling it’s arrival and you wait for him to make a move to enter. Only when he nods towards the door, urging you to go in first, do you step onto the elevator. 

“Floor?”

“Tenth,” you mutter, regretting every word you’ve spoken since running into him. 

He remains silent for a second before clearing his throat. Glancing at him, you raise a brow. “I sexualized myself, so there’s no need to blame yourself for anything. And, for the record, I’m not sorry about that video at all.” A blush creeps up his neck at his own confession. 

Licking your lips, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, nervously nibbling on it. Not much of his reply makes sense. For one, it goes against whatever you thought he meant in his messages earlier today. You want to believe he rejected you since he already said that in so many words but his sincerity makes you question your interpretation. 

“So you actually…” you trail off, reading his expression carefully. “You actually liked the video?”

His entire face reddens. You’ve never seen him this shy before. He’s usually so cocky, so controlled. Not a lot can faze him. In fact, now that you think about it, you’ve never seen him fazed by any sexual things his viewers have commented. Yet, here he is. Looking flushed and, dare you even think, embarrassed, he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “It was amazing,” he whispers, looking over to you. “I watched it more than once actually.”

Your jaw falls, eyes widen. Is that why it took him so long to reply? The air in your lungs thickens as you realize that he probably got off to your video. The thought alone has you shivering in place with lustful pride. 

“Really?”

He nods.

“How many times?”

DING!

The elevator signals the floor arrival and it’s only now that you realize he only hit the button to the tenth floor. He nods for you to step out first and you obey, eyes aimlessly staring at the floor as you try to make sense of the fact that the two of you not only live in the same building, but on the same floor as well. 

With all that has come to light in the last few moments, you realize you can’t get lost in your worries anymore. Turning to face him, you offer a shy smile and say, “I’m-”

“Starfruit,” he finishes with a smirk. “I know.” 

You raise your brows in question. His grin only widens, lighting up the dim hallway like the rays of a morning sun. But it doesn’t distract you from wondering why he doesn’t want to know your real name. “I think ‘hope on the screen’ is a bit of a mouth full,” you joke.

He chuckles, looking to the side a bit before turning back to you. “What’s wrong, honey? Not used to having your mouth full?”

You freeze, breath hitching. Goosebumps prickle your skin as you try to settle your ramming heart with sad excuses that brush off his statement to be anything but sexual. However, with just one look at his smug features, you know full well that’s exactly what he meant.

“Not usually by a name, no.”

Lust clouds his eyes.  He sets his jaw, gaze hardening. Quirking a brow, he asks, “Is that right?” When you nod, he sighs. “Just Hope will do then.”

“Hopie,” you somewhat slur with a smile. 

A little smirk tugs on his lips and he nods. “Sure, Hobi is fine.” 

You don’t bother correcting him, liking his version of the name better anyways. For a moment, you both stand inches apart, staring at each other. He then suddenly blinks and clears his throat. Looking down the right side of the hall, he bites his lip and turns back to face you. You pick up on his hint to go your separate ways and nod, walking ahead of him back to your own apartment. You’re convinced this will be your first and last meeting, in which he will call you Starfruit everytime he sees you and you will reply with Hobi and convince yourself that you’re okay with that. However, his footsteps only follow after you.

You make it to your door before turning to face him. He stops an arm’s length away, features clueless and eyes confused. 

“Looking for an invite to come in?” you tease, hoping to fluster him. 

“You offering one?” he smirks. 

Mouth gaping, you look between him and the door. How is it that you’re the one flustered? That was not the plan. Hobi’s smirk only widens. You suddenly wonder if he’s bluffing, that cocky look starting to irritate your wettening core.

You turn to your door, unlock it then push it open. Leaning your back against the doorframe, you reply, “You tell me.” 

Hobi swipes his tongue between the gaps of his teeth, eyes darkening once more. “You sure about this, Starfruit?” He asks as he takes a step closer. 

“What’s not to be sure about?” You question. “I’m just inviting a neighbour over for a drink. It’s an innocent offer. Wouldn’t you agree, Hobi?”

A low growl tears through his throat before he dips his head and catches your lips in his. You kiss him back with very little hesitance. His lips taste of lemon and cream, sweet and citrusy like he just had dessert. Moaning into his mouth, you hear his mail spill in your apartment somewhere to your left. He then grabs the stack of letters in your hands and repeats the same action, tossing the mail into your apartment. 

His hands are free to roam around your body but immediately settle on your ass. Hips pinning you against the doorframe, Hobi grabs handfuls of each asscheek. Groaning and groping, he doesn’t miss a chance to make you wetter than you already feel yourself getting. 

You don’t hesitate to get your hands on him either. Clutching onto his shoulders, you chase after his lips as he pulls away. Nudging you back with his nose, Hobi then dips his face in the crook of your neck. His tongue darts out, hot breath fanning over your goosebump prickled skin. Warm and wet, his tongue swirls around your collarbone then up to your jawline. Meanwhile, his greedy hands are working fast to pull your shorts to the side, exposing your panty-less pussy.

You don’t give him a chance to see that, wanting him to feel it instead. You spread your legs and hold his thigh between them. Pressing your clit to his dampening sweatpants, you roll your hips onto his leg. 

Hobi stills for a second, only just pulling his face away from yours to watch your body move against his. A giddy grin plays on his lips, his hands returning to your ass to help guide your thrusts against him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your forehead against his cheek. Never did you think you’d find yourself in this position. Last night, you imagined him fucking you against the wall to get yourself off, but never pictured that wall to be in the hallway. Standing in the middle of your doorway, one foot in the apartment and the other out, the two of you risk being caught in a compromising position by the entire floor. And yet, neither of you seem to care. With his body so close that his heat warms you, you find very little interest in anything else. His racing heart against yours and that excited gleam in his eyes is all you can focus on. He looks a bit happier than he did last night and that alone has you moving your hips a bit faster against him.

“Mhm, honey,” he hums before pressing his lips against your forehead. “Just like that.”

To unknowing eyes, the two of you might look like a long time couple, horny and adventurous in your intimate endeavours just from the way he holds and expresses his interest in you. You even find yourself indulging in that daydream for a second, giving into your delusions and pretending that Hobi is your boyfriend and the two of you are that adventurous couple. Whines leave you as he digs his fingers into your ass. It somewhat pulls you out of that daydream. 

His grip then circles around to your hips, stilling your thrusts and holding your against the doorframe. He flashes a cocky smile at your sad mewls from the loss of friction. “Don’t pout,” he whispers. You further draw your bottom lip and test his grip on your hips as you try to continue your movements. 

Hobi chuckles darkly, tightening his hold on you. “I know you’re needy, honey,” he purrs. “But if you don’t behave soon, you won’t get to cum at all. Do I make myself clear?” He questions before licking your pout away. 

It takes everything in you not to squirm. His voice is enough to make you needy, but his words make you desperate. You nod and pull your bottom lip into your mouth, sucking on the strip of saliva his tongue left behind. Hobi raises a brow at your actions. Gathering some spit in his mouth, he mutters, “pout,” then drops the stringy liquid over your lips. Some of it slides down your chin to your neck but, once he’s done, you part your lips. And as you drink in his saliva, Hobi licks up the trail of spit from your cleavage to your chin. He places a wet kiss to your lips once he reaches them.

Pulling away, he peppers your cheeks with soft kisses while one of his hands tugs the hem of your shorts aside once more. The cool air hits your wet folds. You whine against him and try to fight against the hold on your hips against. The longer he delays getting to your clit, the needier you get.

“Patience, Starfruit,” he mumbles against your cheek. 

The soft pad of his thumb brushes up against the short hair upon your pussy a couple of times, filling the pit of your stomach with a growing restless desire to just be filled and fucked. He’s teasing because he can, because he loves the way you squirm against his hold and pout for his tongue. You know this; he knows this. Catching the other’s eye, both of you share a knowing smile. 

Holding your gaze, his thumb finally nudges its way between your folds and grazes your swollen bud. You instantly shudder, breasts heaving from the excitement. He smirks, dragging his thumb back and forth on your clit as he watches you slowly come undone. 

His head lowers again, lips latching onto your neck. He nibbles and sucks on your skin. You can only tangle your fingers in his hair and moan. As your eyes flutter shut, Hobi fully removes his right hand from your hip, and devotes it to your pussy. He runs two long, slender fingers between your folds, instantly drenching them, and chuckles against your neck, “what’s got you this wet, Starfruit?”

A gasp escapes you as he circles his fingers around your clit. Your mind’s a foggy mess, focused only on his pretty face and how easily his fingers can have you shaking. There’s not much attention spared on anything else, so you answer with the first thing that comes to mind. Eyes hooded, you reply, “Just a little hope.” 

He likes it- loves it, fingers slipping into your pussy in an instant. A growl rumbles upon your skin in the process and you can’t fight the shivers that dance along your spine. You whimper his name, resting your forehead on his shoulder. The hand previously holding your hips still wraps around your waist. He’s somewhat cradling you against his chest as his fingers unforgivingly thrust in and out of you. Movements harsh but touches so gentle; Hobi is a god of duality. Just another fact you can’t deny.

Your orgasm knots in the pit of your stomach, only just satisfying that boundless crave for him. His body is all but pressed against yours. Cheek to cheek, your lips are merely inches away from his ear, while his kisses yours. You untangle your fingers from his hair, gently tugging on it as you do just because you can, and you wrap your arms around his shoulder in a tight, desperate embrace. Still, you need more of him, need him closer, so you hook a leg around his waist too. 

Hobi growls a chuckle against the shell of your ear as he gives into your silent, needy request and slides his hand from your waist to your ass. He lands a light spank, as if testing your limits, drawing a loud squeal out of you. 

“F-fuck,” you whine. “Again?” you ask, pushing your ass back into his hand. “Please! Pl-ease, Hobi.”

He groans, whispering, “Already begging, honey?” 

Before you can reply, he spanks you again. The smack is harder, clap louder and you can’t help but match the volume of your moans to it. Your pussy tightens, hips roll uncontrollably against his fingers. You're reaching your peak; the both of you can feel it. Hobi grips onto your ass, and it’s only now that you also realize you’re clinging onto him not just because you want him, but to keep from falling. Your knees have gone weak awhile ago, but you were so enthralled by the pleasure to fully register it. 

You’re squealing, screeching your moans against his shoulder with every wet slouch that echoes from your core. “Oh, god! Yes, yes, yes, Hobi! I’m- I’m-”

His little eager chuckles, the kind where his voice rumbles into your ear and echoes within your soul, are the force that push you off the edge… until the door across the hall opens. 

Mrs. Jiwoo screams at the pornographic sight in front of her. You quickly shoot a hand to his wrist, holding it still in you the moment you realize you’ve provoked an audience. Though you’ve kept his hand still from the embarrassment your mind’s telling you you’re supposed to have, your hips continue their lifts against his hand. The act of getting caught has you shaking with the wash of a harsh orgasm that you can’t seem to stop yourself. Hobi peppers your face with kisses, unfazed by the interruption as well. Within seconds, you flood his fingers with your release. 

The older woman is beside herself. She rushes back into her apartment as you throw your head back and moan a giggle of delight. “When I said during the day, this is not what I meant!” She shouts from the other side of the door. 

You don’t care. You can barely even hear her with how powerful your high hits you. Your ears feel as though they’re submerged underwater, mind fogging with light-headedness and body shuddering as it struggles to stay upright. 

“You fucking slut,” Hobi seethes, gently sinking his teething into your neck. 

You whimper in response, hips jolting in an attempt to escape the overstimulation of his ruthless fingers pushing in and out of you.  

“That got you off, huh slut? Getting caught by the neighbours?”

“Maybe I’m not as innocent as you think.”

The growl that echoes in his chest is enough to make you cum a bit more. And the fact that you know that response wasn’t what he was expecting has a smile playing on your trembling lips. A few strands of his hair fall over his eyes as he scans your face. He looks as though he’s trying to place you, confused by your words and actions. A smile suddenly stretches upon his lips, that tongue of his cockily pushing out.

You can’t quite think straight with his fingers still deep in you, holding still while your hips jolt against his hands. But, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s amused, perhaps even obsessed with the way you discard your inhibitions for him. The reality of the matter is, that if any other partner had wanted you against the doorframe of your apartment, fingering you in the hall for all to see, you wouldn’t have allowed it. But Hobi is different. He provokes recklessness and abandons fears so effortlessly that you can’t help but follow.

Fingers withdrawing from your pussy and into your mouth, Hobi lifts your ass so that your bodies are completely flushed against each other. You suck without much of a command, quietly mewling at the taste of yourself on his fingers. You try to hold his gaze, but his eyes travel to something over your shoulder. He smirks as he guides you inside, the grip on your ass strengthening. Curious as to what’s got him so possessive, you spare a quick glance over your shoulder. Another set of neighbours, Jin and Jimin, stare at the two of you, jaws slack and eyes wide. When you meet their gaze, Jimin quickly looks away, fumbling with his keys then struggling  to unlock the door. But Jin only continues to stare, his eyes dropping down to Hobi’s fingers digging into the plump flesh of your ass. 

An embarrassed squeal escapes you before Hobi pulls your attention away from the guys by curling his fingers in your mouth and tugging your jaw towards him. His eyes darken, face hovering inches away from yours, but all you register is the bulging veins in his neck. Kicking the door close, he whispers, “I don't share, Starfruit.”

Ceasing all sharp suckling and swirls of your tongue, you freeze at his words. His eyes soften and  flash with worry, fingers uncurl and withdraw from your mouth. He parts his lips to speak but you only smash yours against his and clutch onto his thick biceps. He kisses back in an instant, cupping the underside of your asscheeks to give them a good shake. He seems to have some sort of infatuation with your ass. His hands have barely wandered far from your backside, as at least one hand has been groping and gripping it. You smirk against his lips and arch your back so that your ass further pushes into his palm. He smacks it, tongue attacking yours all the while. 

He breaks the kiss to ask against your lips, “bedroom?”

You moan in response and push him back in the general direction you think your room is in. You don’t realize you’ve terribly misjudged your placement in the room until you push him into the door. He grunts upon impact, pulling his lips from yours with a little laugh. You nervously giggle with him, convinced he’s going to tease you, maybe even open the door again and give all peering eyes an encore, but instead he smiles and leads you down the hall. 

Bodies collided, all you can do is move with him, timidly peppering his chin with little kisses. For some reason, you only feel shy in his presence when he’s not overtaken by lust. It makes the interaction more real when he just flashes that bright smile at you and continues to hold you close against him. Lips dragging under his chin, teeth grazing the soft skin, you take a moment to admire his beauty up close. The camera doesn’t do him justice. He glows. Skin, smile, eyes, everything about him gleams, glitters, glistens of beauty. And when lacking a dose of lust, his features shine into something pure. You can’t quite tether the purity to a source, and you aren’t granted the time to as he finds your bedroom. 

In mere seconds, that bright sunshine gleam in his eyes flashes into a dark moonlight glow. He’s lust driven, sex crazed. And suddenly you’re no exception. Following his every silent command, you let him shove you onto your bed. You land with a soft grunt, fumbling with your skirt. He’s so eager to be all over you, he doesn’t even take a moment to flick on your lights. No, Hobi has different plans. His infatuation with you and that video seem to go to lengths you didn’t think were possible. 

“Turn on those lights from last night,” he orders while making his way over to the curtains and draws them shut. 

You furrow your brows. “Why?”

“Why not, Starfruit?” 

He must know the effect of using your screen name, must see the way you chew on your lips and absentmindedly puff your breasts out. In that fruity voice of his, he really can coax you in and out of your thoughts.

Hobi pulls his shirt off as he makes his way over to you. Gulping, you take a moment to admire his tan torso. You’ve been thinking about it since his last live, thinking about scratching your nails down his chest then cat-licking the faint marks up. You wonder if he’d let you do that now. 

But, as he crawls onto your bed, his eyes flash a silent warning to do as you’re told. You lean back and switch on the twinkling starlights tangled around your room. The quiet room mirrors the production you set up for him last night, once again reflecting the ambiance of a midnight showing. Despite the sunset peachy swirls, Hobi has recreated the set for your video. Actually, with the presence of his grey sweatpants and the little yellow outfit you have on, he has somehow merged your two videos together, transporting the two of you into your own private live stream setting. 

“I don’t suppose you’d want me in lace too?” you tease as his lean body hovers over your curves. 

He breathes a chuckle, placing a soft kiss over your lips before replying, “I don’t want you in anything at all.”

Your legs have a mind of their own, adjusting apart to give him some room to lay between them.  Your trembling breath fans over his lips, hesitant hands rest on his bare shoulders. He picks up on your anxiety and nudges his nose against yours, the cool edge of that hoop piercing refreshing your skin. 

Delicately, he whispers, “Lemme know if it’s too much, Starfruit. It’s never too late to change your mind.”

His reassurance is enough to have you arching your body into his.  Based on the concern swimming in his eyes, you can tell that he’s waiting for some verbal confirmation. But you, instead, put your mouth into different use. As his tongue reappears to graze the gaps of his teeth, a brow raising in question, you catch it. Hooking your tongue around his, you pull it into your mouth and hollow your cheeks. His eyes widen with every suck, warm breath heating your face as it fans over you. A chuckle or two escapes him as he watches you hold his gaze shamelessly while playing with his tongue in ways you’ve only ever thought of. 

Hobi drops to his elbows, arms on either side of your head, and presses his body against yours. The shift of his position further pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your previous sucking fest turns into a wet, sloppy makeout session. He rolls his clothed hips into yours with each swirl of his tongue, groaning as you mewl from the subtle friction. 

He seems to be losing patience, breaking the sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your tongues, to trail kisses down your neck. You think he’s going to stop in the dip of your collarbone, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leads the sloppy trail of kisses down your cleavage. Before you can even register it, Hobi has his teeth locked on the neckband of your tank top. He pulls it down to expose your breasts. Locking eyes, you find something animalistic swimming within his gaze. Unbounded, uncontrolled, it seems as though every minute spent with you has unleashed yet another layer of primal lust ready to take over every inch of you. Never have you seen such passion in those eyes before, even on his best days, his best lives. You start to wonder if maybe it’s the presence of another that has him all worked up.

Hobi lures you out of your thoughts as he leans back and rests his weight back up on his hands again. Looking down at you, he admires your chest. His eyes bounce between your pierced and bare nipples, as if deciding which one he’s in the mood for. You take a deep breath and arch your back to push your breasts up towards him, urging him to just pick one already and devour you. 

A little breathy chuckle escapes him once he picks up on your hints. The pad of his thumb brushes over your pierced nipple. Slow, quiet, steady. He remains still, lost in thought before his eyes find yours again. That primal instinct that was previously unleashed has somewhat tamed itself. A little smile tugs on a corner of his lip, dimples only just visible. 

Something endearing lies behind his eyes. Something… pure. You lay flat on the bed again as you stare up at him. Quirking a brow, you silently question his motionless frame. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even seem to notice your subtle change of expression. He simply stares, admires. 

“Hobi?”

Your quiet voice lulls him back to you. He blinks, shakes his head then snaps his gaze back down to your chest, that little smile of his widening. Before you can question him again, both his hands cup your breasts. You gasp a moan, pushing your chest up against him again. 

Hobi just pushes you back down. He squeezes your tits together then dips his head between them. His wet lips push their way through only to blow and vibrate. He blubbers, babbles, saliva drenching your tits as he shakes his head between them. 

Never has a man been so obsessed, memorized by your body enough to motorboat you. Most of the time, your interaction with others lasts shorter than this. But here Hobi lays, shoving his face between your breasts. He’s infatuated with you enough to take his time. 

Moaning, rolling your hips up into his, you close your eyes and enjoy his little treat. Your hands slide from his shoulders to his back, hugging him closer to you. You feel that sinful tongue of his dart out again, licking a trail up to your pierced nipple only to envelop it in his mouth. Hands lost in his hair, you push his face further against you. You know full well that he can’t get any closer, but you try anyways. 

His teeth graze the silver stud, a quiet clatter of metal on teeth meeting your ears. Hobi looks up at you, holding your gaze, and gently tugs on your hardened nipple. In a pout, you mewl at the sight, the stinging, blissful sensation. A smirk graces his lips when he lets go. 

“You sound so fucking cute,” he chuckles, dipping his head to give your nipple a little kiss. 

He’s sweet and kind and you want to get lost in his eyes and honey voice. But, with his bulge rubbing against your shorts, all you can think about is how well he’d fit in your mouth. Using your feet, you push his sweatpants down his frame. 

Hobi chuckles under his breath before helping you out a bit and kicking his pants off. He dips his head back to your breasts, this time focusing his attention on your bare nipple. He gives it the same treat as the studded one, licking, sucking, nibbling. Mid tug, he trails a hand down your body, resting it upon your drenched center and asks, “when are these coming off?”

“When I get to suck you off.”

Your words leave you fast, unexpectedly. You’ve never been this unaware of yourself, uncomposed. Even in your most submissive moments, you’ve maintained a certain amount of control. However, with Hobi, it’s almost as though all that control becomes his. 

He quirks a brow up at you, releasing your nipple. Scanning your features, he judges how serious you are. With your chest heaving and gaze unwavering, he seems to conclude that you really mean it. 

“Want me to come up there?”

You fight off a smile and shake your head. Nudging his shoulder, you have him fall beside you, laying on his back. “I’ll come down to you,” you tell him as you sit on your knees and push your shorts off.

Hobi’s brows shoot up at your actions. He chews on his lips, eyes devouring every exposed inch of you. As his hand rests on your ass, gently rubbing it, you let your gaze traill down his chest to his tall, thick cock. It’s bigger than you thought it was. You know he’s big after watching his live streams, but you didn’t think he’d be this massive. Vein laced, precum smeared, pink tipped, his huge cock begs for your attention. You gulp now wondering if he’d fit in your mouth at all.

“You don’t have to,” Hobi whispers. You snap your gaze to his and you can see the concern that swims in his eyes. Is he worried that he won’t fit or that he’ll hurt you? 

Licking your lips, you collect any drool about to fall from the sight of his dick and shake your head. “No, I really want to.” Your tone is steady but voice breathless. Pressing your legs together, you can’t fight your need for him any longer. Without much thought, you throw your leg over his chest, straddling his torso as you position yourself in front of his dick. 

A gasp meets your wet folds and you freeze for a second, thinking that you may have acted out of pure greed. You’re about to move off him when his hands smack down on your thighs and slide up to your ass. He pushes your plump cheeks up and digs his fingertips into your little dimples. As you cat-lick his precum oozing tip, he runs the bridge of his nose through your folds. 

You moan loudly, his bold move provoking you to engulf his tip and then some into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him and it’s only now that you realize, with your tongue sliding and looping around him, how thick he really is. It only makes you want more of him.

While you attempt to shove in another inch or two down your throat, Hobi laps his tongue over your pussy, favouring your clit over your entrance. After flicking it with the tip of his tongue, he purses his lips around your clit and sucks harshly. 

Through a gag, you moan around his length. Only half of him is lodged in your throat, and you thought you might be ready to take a bit more until he began to focus all his energy on your clit. You shudder against his lips. Closing your eyes, you try to recompose yourself. You have a job to do as well and you know you won't be able to do it right if all you focus on is how well he can work his mouth. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, you continue your bobs up and down his length, working your hand on the last few inches you haven’t found the courage to shove in your mouth yet. 

Hobi can’t seem to keep his volume down. Every one of your harsh sucks and slurps has him crumbling into more of a moaning mess. Your jaw aches, eyes water but you work through it, living for every moan and groan that vibrates over your needy core. And though he continues to play around with your clit, the sounds you've sucked out of him have sprinkled a bit of hesitance in his approach. His previously sharp licks and suctions over your pussy have somewhat stuttered the faster your bounce your head up and down his length. 

He composes himself quicker than you do, however. Tongue poking in and out of your entrance, his thumb slides over to your clit and rubs hard circles around it. You squeal, choking on his cock at the sudden switch. However, that’s not what forces you to pull him out of your mouth. That thumb of his drenches itself in your juices and trails up the curve of your ass to smear your juices all over your asshole. As his mouth returns to your clit, he pushes his thumb into your ass, making you pull his cock out and throw our head back. 

You’re so lost in that new wave of pleasure, all attention on his cock falters. You grip onto his thighs and grind your hips into his mouth. Hobi smirks, but he’s not happy with your actions. His free hand comes down on your ass as a silent warning. You want to take it as such but with his thumb moving in and out of you and his mouth sucking on your clit, you can’t find it in you to do anything else but whine and push your weight down on his face. 

Hobi growls against your wetness, teeth grazing your bud. Your eyes widen, and a loud moan pours out of you. He breaths a chuckle over your clit all while continuing to nibble on it. Lips still pressed against your aching heat, he questions, “who the fuck told you to stop?”

You wrap a hand back around cock, pumping him at a fast pace. Still, Hobi doesn’t think it’s enough. He withdraws his thumb from your ass and takes to fingering your instead. With two fingers thrusting in and out of you again, his mouth is free to latch onto your asshole. He licks and pokes his tongue in and out your tiniest hole while your body shakes over his. 

“Suck my dick, slut,” he orders with a growl, spanking you just to grab and grope you all over again. 

You don’t dare disobey a direct order. Wrapping your lips around his length, you immediately pick up where you left off and shove his thick cock down your throat. Ignoring every gag instinct, every urge to pull him out and take a proper breath before taking him in again. But, when he’s shaking his face between your cheeks, swirling his tongue around your hole and pushing his fingers in and out of you at an incomprehensible pace, you can’t focus, let alone think, about anything else. His cock falls out of your mouth once more. You don’t want to disappoint him, but how can he expect you to do anything when he’s making you feel so good? 

“Oh my god!” You scream. Sitting up on his face, you all but force him to take his fingers out of you and relatch his lips over your folds once more. You ride his face as your orgasm nears, a variety of curses pouring out of you in desperate moans. “Ahh, fuck yes! H-Hobi!”

He groans in response, smacking his pussy slick hands over your ass. He grips onto your supple flesh, pushing your ass up to get a better hold on your pussy. 

Your hips jolt over his mouth, eyes roll back. There’s not much more you can take. Body quaking, you warn, “I’m go-nna cum!”

“Do it!” Hobi rasps, sounding hungry and deprived. 

Your jaw falls open, high pitched moans tumbling out as your release gushes into his mouth. Hobi flattens his tongue and lets you ride his face. You circle your hips around his face, mewling and whining as you grind out your orgasm. Hearing Hobi’s slurps and laps over your pussy only makes your body shudder and jolt all the more. 

His mouth suddenly escapes your needy hips. You huff a whine, looking over your shoulder at him. Hobi has his jaw pushed out and lips purses like he’s holding onto something in his mouth. You furrow your brows, about to question him when he pushes your body into the bed between his legs. 

Sitting up, Hobi leers over your ass while you’re left in suspense with your face buried in the sheets. He pulls your cheeks apart and drops a warm, thick dollop of saliva mixed cum. He uses his forefinger to rub it around your hole, catching any leaking streaks that rush back to your pussy. You shudder as a string of mewls muffles into the bed.

“Where’s your vibrator?”

You turn your head to the side, smushing your cheek into the mattress instead and ask, “Which one?” 

Hobi chuckles at your words. As he pushes his finger into your ass, he replies, “How many do you have?”

Gasping from the blissful sensation, you try to focus on the question. You only really have two. The yellow star-shaped one and that dildo you use when you really need a good fucking. But judging by the tone of his voice, he seems to be expecting a lot. You chew on your lip and debate on inflating that number. But what will you do if he asks to see them all? 

 “I-I’m not sure.”

“Take a guess.”

You pause. Balling the sheets into your hands, you swallow thickly. You know you should just be honest, but after that mediocre blow-job, you don’t think you can handle disappointing him any further. Still, it’s better and safer to tell the truth. Besides, you know full well that you can’t lie to him. It would break your heart more than his. 

“Just two,” you finally reply. “They’re at the table by the bed, first drawer.”

Hobi places a sweet kiss on each cheek before he shifts a bit behind you. The drawer opens and closes, Hobi shifting back in place again. “Is there something wrong with having just two?” He asks as he runs the curved edges of the star vibrator up and down your folds. 

Your pussy quivers at the sensation, hips greedily grinding against it. So needy for more, one would think you didn’t just cum a minute ago. “You tell me,” you whisper. After swallowing your moans, you ask, “Doesn’t two seem innocent?”

The toy stops mid stroke and you stiffen up with it. Maybe you’ve taken the comment too far, but you can’t deny the gnawing voice in your heart telling you he’s just here for a quick fuck. You’ve raised your hopes up too high, romanticized him too often not to take what he had said to heart. Chewing on your lip, you wonder if you should apologize for your tone and suggest to just continue all this without another word. You’re about to voice your idea when you feel his lips on your curves of your ass again, the wet toy moving once more. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a little innocence, Starfruit,” he mutters against your cheek. Trailing that toy up to your asshole, he grazes his teeth over your cheek and says, “It’s what makes you so sweet.”

As his teeth nibble on your skin, you quietly whine into the bed. Hobi holds you in place as you squirm, sensing your impatience to be played with again. “Deep breath,” he mutters against the curve of your ass. 

You inhale deeply and brace yourself for what you think might be coming next. Hearing your intake, and catching the way your shoulders rise, Hobi pushes the wet toy into your tight hole. There’s a bit of resistance, as you're not used to more than two fingers in there usually. However, the toy enters just fine. It stretches you so fucking well, making your left eye twitch the way it always does when you’ve reached pure bliss. 

“Besides,” Hobi suddenly continues. He shifts under you again, reaching back into the drawer. “You’re hardly innocent around me.”

The star buzzes to life in you. You gasp and sit up as your body shudders from the sudden jolt of pleasure. From your new position, you feel his tip poke at your clit and you can’t stop the squeal that escapes you then. Hobi wraps his arms around your waist, kissing the curve of your spine and igniting your lust frenzied nerves.  

“I gotta be in you, honey,” he mutters between kisses. 

“Yes, please.”

With a chuckle, Hobi nuzzles his face into your back. The gesture is so sincere, so casual that for a second you let yourself believe this is a usual occurrence. You let yourself believe that you and Hobi always find each other like this because you’re dating. You let yourself indulge in the fantasy that you belong to Hobi and he belongs to you. The second comes and goes, but you’re still left with his warm breath fanning on your back and sweet kisses trailing up your spine.

Hobi lifts your leg, muttering, “Under mine.” He positions both calves under his thigh and sits you on his lower stomach. His hands retreat off your body and you shiver from the loss of warmth his touch always brings. 

You look over your shoulder, curious, and find him lying on his back with his arms crossed behind his head. He’s eyes lock on your ass. He admires it, studies it’s curves and the way it sits on his abdomen. Meeting your gaze, Hobi smirks. 

“Make it clap for me.”

The request has you breathless. It sparks the memory of your question all those moments ago, before things go so hot and heavy. How many times? How many times did he watch that video? 

With a shy smile, you turn back around and lean forward, resting your hands on the mattress between his legs. You take a deep breath then shake your ass, the claps subsequently following. Hobi groans behind you. You moan in response. The slow buzzes of the vibrator only heighten the act of shaking your ass over his abs. 

With that extra little treat for you, you feel a bit guilty. He’d been showering you with attention and affection. He’s made you cum twice already and all you’ve offered was a sloppy blowjob you couldn’t even follow through with. You want to give him that little extra bit of attention he never forgets to offer you. Ceasing you movements for a second, earning a light spank to continue, you lift your hips.

“I don’t remember you asking for my cock, Starfruit.” His tone is heavy with authority. It only makes it harder to ignore him. “And I sure as hell don’t remember telling you to stop.”

Another smack lands on your ass. This one is harder, stronger and you whimper at the warning. You can’t bear to ignore him any longer, knowing his patience will soon run out. “I just wanted to try something, Hobi.”

He grunts, but doesn’t say much more. You take this as approval to continue and sit your ass just before his cock, pussy resting on his heavy balls. His hands find your hips again, but they don’t grope you like they usually do. Instead, they simply rest there. You interpret this as a precautionary measure, in case you try anything without permission again. 

“Do you wanna watch it clap?”

Hobi hums in reponses, thumbs gently rubbing your skin. Leaning forward again, you push your ass back so his cock slips between your cheeks. The gasp that escapes him fills your chest with pride. A smile plays on your lips and you shake your ass once more, cheeks now clapping around his length. 

“Innocent, my ass,” you giggle. 

Hobi fills the room with that dark chuckle of his. You can hear the amusement of the joke and pleasure of the display from the tone of his voice. He smacks his hands down on your cheeks, helping them move fast around his cock. 

“Fucking slut,” he hisses as he tightens his grip. His hips suddenly jolt upwards causing you to almost fall over his lap. Hobi catches you before you slip off his lap, however, and holds you back in place. 

He huffs and hisses, moans and groans. You’re sure he’s about to cum, can even feel his cock twitching, but he stops you just before he lets himself go. “I just need to be inside you.” 

The desperation in his voice has you giggling. Hobi spanks the laughter out of you, grumbling, “Behave or you won’t cum for the rest of the night.”

You bite back a whine. Shyly looking over your shoulder, you find that wild urge resurface in his gaze again. He must’ve been really close to cumming. Hobi catches your gaze, a wicked smirk tugging on his lips. He reaches for the vibrator’s remote and turns the intensity up. You whimper and pull on the sheets in front of you. 

Lifting your hips, you nod at his warning and turn back around. You are met with your reflection from the full-length mirror by your closet. It’s parallel to your bed so you can see yourself sink down on Hobi’s massive cock and watch as well as feel your pussy stretch so fucking well from his girth. “H-Hobi,” you squeal as he guides your hips further down his shaft. 

“Hoseok,” he corrects. 

You cease all movement, already halfway down his length. The vibrator is still humming loudly in you, only just distracting you from what you’ve just heard. Did he just tell you his real name? He’d been so adamant on keeping it to himself, even refusing to know yours. Yet, here he lies. With his hands secured on your hips and cock ruining you for all other men, perhaps even toys, he tells you his name. 

“Is it too much?” He suddenly asks while adjusting his hold on your hips. 

You shake your head, breathlessly muttering, “No, it’s perfect.” 

It’s not until he’s guiding you back down on him do you realize he was talking about his cock. You suck in a breath and wait until you’ve completely taken in him before whimpering your name. He grips onto your hips tighter and growls. The reaction is enough to fill you with worry. You fear he may not have wanted to know your name, that he only wanted you to scream his. 

“(Y/N)”

His moans carry on as you circle your hips around his cock. Each syllable of your name sounds more desperate and greedy than the last. And when you finally switch to bouncing, ass clapping down on his thighs in loud smacks, he growls your name. Over and over again, you’re dripping off the tip of his tongue. All he thinks about is you, all he says is you, all he sees is you. 

Ass in bliss, pussy in pleasure, your body meets heaven and your mind overflows with everything Hoseok. You can’t get enough of him or the way he utters your name in that fruity, lively voice of his. 

You think this is all the pleasure you need when he sits himself up. He rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand sliding down from your hips to rub your clit while the other slides up. You catch his gaze in the reflection and offer a shy smile before you feel him yank your tank top down once more and expose your breasts. 

Bouncing uncontrollably, your tits are all his attention can focus on now. He doesn’t even make a move to grope one of them, too consumed by the way they move to disturb their rhythm. The mere sight of him continuously being mesmerized by you only brings you closer to your high. Your pussy tightens around him again and you can’t ignore the twitch of his cock this time. You giggle at his reflection, drawing his attention away from your tits. 

“You’re ready to cum again, Starfruit?” 

The smirk he wears is just as deadly as the size of his cock. 

You crumble beneath it, whimpering a tiny, “Yes, please, Hobi.”

He kisses your shoulder and nods, as if giving you the approval to cum whenever. Your eyes roll back, moans intensify and body seems to be losing all composure for the third time tonight. You screw your eyes shut, feeling your orgasm nearing but Hoseok replaces his kisses for a little bite on your shoulder. Gasping a moan, you snap your eyes open and meet his gaze once more. 

“Look at me,” he orders in a hushed tone. “I want you to look at me when you cum.”

You expected to find that untamed animalistic look in his eyes, or maybe even a barrier of distance to remind you that this is just a one time thing. Instead, you find affection. Within those lust-blown pupils, you find that glowing sunshine-like sparkle of sincerity. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. 

Just like that, while holding his gaze and getting lost in his eyes, your ograsm overtakes the entirety of your body. Grounding your ass into hips, you shudder, whimper and tear your sheets out from under his legs. You’ve lost the ability to hold that honest gaze of his and completely shatter from the force of your orgasm. Mind whirling, ears ringing, you feel like the wind has got knocked out of you too. Seeing stars, you can’t think straight. All you can feel is him. 

And while you’re losing yourself, gushing and convulsing all over him, Hoseok continues to rub harsh circles around your clit and rolls his hips up into yours. He further gets himself off all while helping you ride out your high as well. He groans in your ear as it rings and finally takes to groping your breast again. He grabs at anything, wanting to feel all of you as his dick twitches once more. With your warm cum coating his cock, Hoseok can’t hold himself back any longer. He locks his arms around your waist, holds you still over his hips and releases a heavy load of his cum. 

“(Y/N)” he growls as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

You lean your head back against his shoulder. Eyes closed, mouth pouring moans, you revel in the ropes of cum he shoots in you. He fills you up all too well that you know you’ll cry if this is a first and last time occurrence. Your pussy quivers from the nonstop friction, that vibrator in your ass not doing you any favours to slow the process of overstimulation. You tell yourself that the moment Hoseok is done, you’re going to demand that he take that vibrator out and give you a moment to collect yourself before even thinking about another round. 

But then he nuzzles his face into your skin and you melt into his frame. You feel him inhale your scent and smile against you. Biting your lip, you force yourself to endure another moment or two of overstimulation if it means he can stay this happy for a little bit longer. 

“Ah, shit,” he suddenly mutters into the nape of your neck. “You alright, honey?”

You open your eyes and find him staring at your fucked out reflection with a look of concern. Meekly, you nod but he doesn’t buy it. He unwraps his arms around you and pushes your body forward. You whine and whimper, wanting to fight against it since that angle seems to give a whole new wave of pleasure you’re certain you cannot handle right now. 

“Bend over, honey,” he chuckles. “Trust me.”

You moan out of frustration, your ass starting to become just as sensitive to the touch as your pussy is. Still, you know you can trust him, and bend over. “Careful.”

Hoseok kisses your asscheek and mutters, “always,” before gently tugging on the yellow rubber line to pull the star out. He sighs at whatever sight rests in front of him, but you’re all too consumed with recovering from such a hard orgasm. The ringing in your ears has barely stopped and you keep telling yourself that if you keep taking deep breaths you just might be about to settle your heart down and regain your sense of sound. 

The buzzing suddenly ceases, a little clatter on your night table momentarily filling the silence. Hoseok then slowly pushes your hips off his softening cock, rubbing your ass in hopes of soothing all those little mewls that leave you. 

He then gasps and you can already tell that you won’t like what comes out of his mouth next. 

“I know you’re sensitive,” he starts. You whine, already knowing where this is leading. “But, you need to get cleaned up somehow.”

You shudder and grip onto the sheets as a precaution. The ringing in your ears has somewhat settled, but you don’t get comfortable with that fact just yet. After a long whine, you ask, “How do you want me?”

Hoseok breaths a chuckle and you hear him pat a spot next to him. Heaving, you look over your shoulder at the vacant space beside him. You sigh and crawl over there, lying on your back and spreading your legs immediately. Hoseok runs a hands down your torso, watching as you make yourself comfortable on the bed. The two of you work around each other like this is a nightly routine, and you’re not mad about that. 

Once you’re settled, he positions himself between your legs and dips his head down to your pussy. You close your legs around his face in an instant, the sensitivity being too much to handle too soon. Hoseok doesn’t care; he works through it. He laps and licks up every part of your mixed cum. Soon, however, his hands get a hold of your thighs and he pulls them apart. He shakes his head as he devours your pussy once more and you find yourself having to tug on his hair to get him off you. 

“Hoseok, pl-please!” You whine, attempting to close your legs once more. 

Unlatching his lips from your overstimulated pussy with a little wet pop, he sits up and smirks down at your fucked out state. You bring your legs together, cross your ankles and pull your knees into your chest as the last remnants of your orgasm shudders through you. 

The bed dips beside you. Hoseok makes himself comfortable. He lies next to you, chest heaving and eyes locked on the ceiling. And once you feel your orgasm finally pass through, you unfold yourself. Your nakedness has never been more apparent to you until now. With lustful desires trickling away, all that remains is the bareness of your bodies and the hovering reality of your emotions.

You shift your weight and pull your comforter over your curves, quickly shielding yourself before he can look over and get another look at you. You freeze all over when he spares you a glance, curious as to what you’re doing. It’s like you didn't just spend the better part of an hour or so screaming his name. 

Hoseok smirks, gaze wandering down your covered frame anyways. His eyes don’t need to undress you, knowing exactly what you look like from what angle, yet they still do. He finds your gaze again, breath stabilizing, and mimics your actions. Shifting to get under the sheets, Hoseok asks, “Are you okay?”

The question stunts you. Actually, the fact that he’s still here and not halfway through getting dressed stunts you. You can only stare at him for a moment, your ears regaining full ability and chest ceasing its full rises and falls. 

He furrows his brows. Taking your silence as avoidance from the truth, he says, “You can tell me if I hurt you. I’m sorr-”

“Aren’t you leaving?” Your question sounds colder than intended. And the fact that you cut him off to ask it, is not doing you any favours. 

Hoseok can only stare back at you, speechless. He chews on his lip and scoffs a dry sigh before you quickly correct your intentions. 

“Not that I want you to leave.” A brow of his quirks in interest. “It’s just… I thought that’s what you’d want to do.”

He must see the fear in your eyes, must hear the earnest plea to stay in your voice as he shifts closer to you and tucks an arm under your head. You scoot closer to him too, sweaty bodies colliding once more. Your arms draped over the other’s waist, you pull each other closer. His breath fans over your hot face and you slowly trail your gaze up from his neck to his eyes. 

Lips less than an inch apart, Hoseok mutters, “If it’s up to me, neither one of us would ever leave.” He nudges your nose with his, brushing that hoop piercing against your skin.

Your hand slides up to his face, caressing his cheek while your thumb rubs his chin. You want to tell him you feel the same way, that you’d want to be in any moment as long as he’s there with you. But, he seems to read that in your eyes, in the way you hold his gaze shamelessly and flash that shy smile. 

Your lips are so close now, you’re exchanging breaths, but he doesn’t kiss you yet. Instead he whispers, “Thirteen.”

You knit your brows as confusion riddles your face. 

“You asked how many times I’ve watched your video; thirteen.”

Thirteen. Your mind struggles to comprehend that reality, eyes searching his face for signs of dishonesty. You only find genuineness and a hint of admiration in his eyes and the way he says, “Starfruit; (Y/N).”

“You couldn’t have gotten off that many times,” you scoff.

“I didn’t.” 

Your nerves jolt into another heartwarming frenzy as your body freezes over with realization. It’s never been about just sex, it’s never been about cameras and live streams. It’s only ever been about finding the one on the screen, finding the hope you’ve been searching for every time either one of you logs on and scrolls through comments.

“I just came back from an errand. Jin wanted cake and Jimin was too tired to get out.” He suddenly starts, pulling you out of your thoughts. You pause for a moment, realizing that Jin and Jimin have a third roommate. “I was about to go inside when I saw you walk out of your apartment. I honestly couldn’t believe it was you. But I knew it the moment I saw those yellow shorts.”

Your breath hitches and he smiles. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You walked so fast,” he chuckles. “And by the time I figured out what I wanted to say, you were already on the elevator. I was honestly about to just go back inside and forget the entire thing. I even opened the door. I couldn’t go in, though. I just needed to see you one last time.” 

He pauses to press a gentle kiss on the corner of your lips. You flutter your eyes shut, melting into his existence. He continues, “I ran down the stairs, hoping to catch you before you left. When I saw you checking the mail, I'm not sure what came over me. I pretended to be doing the same thing. I didn’t think you’d be that embarrassed about the video.”

Slowly, you open your eyes and meet his apologetic gaze. Heart swooning, you let out a shaky breath and confess in a quiet mutter, “I don’t want to be a camgirl.”

“What?”

“I sent you that video because I wanted you to notice me again. And you’ve been looking so sad and tired during your lives, I just wanted to cheer you up a bit.” 

Hoseok stares, brows knitted, lips parted. You open your mouth to apologize when he presses his lips to yours, engulfing you in a whirlwind of soft gold emotions. You drink in every breath, curling your tongue around his. 

“I lied about you being innocent.”

You blink. 

“Well, you are innocent but that’s not the reason why I told you not to live stream. I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

“I’m not very happy with the idea of sharing you either.”

“I really like your ass.”

You pause. Your war of confessions hovers over your tangled bodies but all you can do is laugh at his words. He can’t hold back the laughter bubbling from his chest either, and you feel the sweet rumble of his chuckles before you hear them. He gingerly leans in for another kiss but it seems to be more teeth than lips as you two try to laugh through the kiss. 

The hand resting on your waist trails down to your ass, rubbing gentle circles around it as your laughter trickles out. You kiss him again, properly and with little tongue so you can focus on the way his lips move against yours. 

When he pulls away, he shares his last confession. “I hate streaming.”

You bite back a gasp, chewing on your lips. He takes this as a sign to continue. “I mean, I used to love it. It just seems like more work than it’s worth now. And I want moments like this more often.”

“You’re quitting,” you whisper in realization. 

He nods. 

You hum, nodding along as everything begins to make sense. You conclude that he must’ve felt this way for a while and that’s why there was a sudden shift in his demeanour. 

Pushing his hair back, you softly kiss his cheek and mutter against his skin, “I started watching for Hobi. But, I sent that video to Hoseok.”

Bodies flushed, Hoseok shudders against you. Eyes flutter shut, hearts beat in sync, and as you drift further into this daydream, you hear the lingering words he breathes into your hair. 

“You’re an angel, (Y/N). Sweeter than Starfruit.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. 

#bangtanfairygarden #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #btsguild #bangtanhq #btsgoldnet #houseofddaeng #jhope smut #jung hoseok #jung hoseok smut #hoseok smut #hobi smut #jhope x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #magicshopnet

[ttttaehyungie]

an exercise in restraint | jjk x reader

an exercise in restraint | jeon jungkook x reader

genre | established relationship, smut, pwp

summary | Wandering hands need to be trained with self-restraint.

rating | 18+

word count | 3.7k words

warnings | subby jk, vvv slight exhibitionism (inappropriate touching in public places), no touching rule, nipple play, oral fixation, cum eating, jealousy/insecurity but they talk it out bcos we love healthy communication ✌🏻

a/n | that blonde jk selfie made me do it

When she walks into the apartment ahead of him wordlessly, he gulps. He’s in trouble.

It's not anger that emanates off her. It's not the brooding kind of silence that’s filling the atmosphere as she ignores him.

No. The aura that radiates off her is unmistakable.

It's domineering.

He calls her name, voice edged with the slightest hint of worry, but she pays him no response. In the emptiness of the silence, he has no clue what thoughts exactly her head is filled with. Trembling, he tries again, "I'm sorry."

She halts. Purposeful steps come to a stop. They're standing before his bedroom door and despite the obvious familiarity of the physical space before him, he shivers at the uncertainty that lies ahead. "Are you now?" she asks, her voice clear and unwavering. Her words grip him.

Without waiting for his response, she pushes the door open and enters the room like she owns it. She may as well have. It certainly feels like she owns him.

Standing in the center of the room, she finally turns to face him. Her expression is neutral, but her gaze is firm and pins him in place where he hesitates in the doorway.

"Come here." At her word, he obeys. He stands before her, toes scrunching against the stiffness of the hardwood floor beneath him. Despite his height advantage over her, he feels infinitely smaller, his head bowed in admonishment. "What are you sorry for?"

He chews on his lip. Shame fills him.

With a hand on his chin, she directs his gaze away from the floor to meet hers. She prompts him with a simple but expectant, "Hm?"

"I'm sor- I'm sorry for, for getting jealous," he mumbles, averting his eyes.

"Look at me." His eyes dart back to hers. But this time he finds gentleness in her gaze. "There's nothing wrong with being jealous, Jungkook. Although I wish you would have talked to me about it instead of bottling it up to yourself. It's been, what, two weeks now since I made that comment about him."

Just as the sensation of release that accompanies relief blooms in his chest as he thinks he's off the hook, her gaze hardens again as she continues, “But what is not okay is your inappropriate touches in the middle of our dinner with Namjoon."

Something within Jungkook tightens at the sound of his name. Whatever shame that had previously filled him was now singed into nothing by the flare of jealousy that bursts within him.

Tonight was not the first time the three of them had dined together. As her best friend of over a decade now, Namjoon came over to hang out together frequently enough that Jungkook was beginning to consider him his own friend. Namjoon was cool – dorky enough to be relatable, yet composed with a certain air of sophistication brought by his intellect such that he easily commanded Jungkook's respect. And Jungkook had walked into his current relationship with his eyes wide open. He'd known about the close friendship his girlfriend shared with Namjoon and didn't want to be the jealous boyfriend who broke precious friendships apart. And he had been doing well, had been genuinely chill about it.

Well, he had been, up until that little comment from two weeks ago.

It was a lighthearted remark, just an offhand comment. Mindlessly scrolling through her Facebook feed on that lazy Saturday afternoon, she came across an engagement announcement by two of her friends. The comments were filled with people gushing over how perfect their story was, being childhood best friends and all. She laughed and rolled her eyes at that. "It's all so romanticized. But what's so romantic about knowing someone before their puberty glow up? Hell, maybe we should ask Namjoon what he saw in pubescent me!"

His ears perked up at that. "What?"

"Oh, yeah, Namjoon confessed to me once when we were, like, fourteen? Can you believe it? The upper limit to my fashion sense back then was my scruffy jeans and bright magenta jacket!”

Gentle fingers pry his own out of the tight fist they had clenched themselves into, simultaneously prying him out of his reverie and back to the present. Sliding her hand into his, she frowns at him. “If you were jealous, you should have just talked to me about it.”

“But it’s so silly,” he said, immediately prompting her to shake her head.

“Your emotions are not silly, Kook,” she said. “It’s my fault, my blind spot that I didn’t expect it, and I’m sorry if I made you feel insecure about our relationship.”

Lowering his head to rest on her shoulder, he pouts as he hides his face in the warm comfort found in the crook of her neck.

“Whatever happened back then is in the past. I rejected him because I felt we were better as just friends, and it took him some time, but ultimately he agreed. And I swear, that was the one and only time. We’ve been nothing more than best friends after that,” she continues, and the words roll over him in waves of reassurance that synchronize with the slow strokes of her thumb over his knuckles. “I’m yours, and yours only, Kook.”

His free hand slides up to grip at her waist possessively. “Mine?” he asks.

“Yours,” she promises. The tight feeling in his chest begins to loosen itself. Things will be okay. They’ll work through this.

Smiling at him, she speaks again, her voice laced with mirth this time, “But what shall we do about your misbehavior tonight?”

He hadn’t been able to help himself. The worries that he left unaddressed in his refusal to talk about his jealous emotions resulted in an unpleasant dread making its home in the pit of his stomach, displacing his appetite as he sat in the cushioned bench of the restaurant. As he watched his girlfriend respond to Namjoon’s jokes with the carefree laughter that Jungkook so adored, he felt the jealousy rise in his chest, fill him, and he left his dinner half-eaten and abandoned to go cold on its plate.

The gnawing thought that she was slipping out of his hands spurred his next actions. As if needing to hold her back to him, he placed a hand on her thigh. And when she shivered at his touch – throwing him a quick questioning glance, but nothing more – her reaction further fueled him. The inane need to stake a claim on her, to remind her of whose she was, began to overtake him, and his hand slowly but steadily slid higher and higher. Watching his tattooed knuckles slither up the smooth skin of her exposed thigh was a welcome distraction from the ongoing conversation. With their legs tucked under the table, Namjoon was none the wiser from where he sat across from them. And with their table in the corner of the dimly lit room, they were adequately concealed from the danger of any wandering eyes of the other diners. Still, it all felt so illicit, but also oh so thrilling. Curiosity at just how far he could take things clouded his senses and he ignored the way she shoved his hand down when they brushed the edge of her short skirt. His hand crept up again, and this time it got to the hem of her panties and traced along the elastic. Just as he angled his hand to stroke a lone finger up where he knows her slit is, her thighs clamped shut. Under the table, she swiftly pulled his hand away before she gave his thigh a meaningful pinch.

“Sorry Namjoon,” she said, with a saccharine sweet smile on her face. But Jungkook knew better. “I think Jungkook’s had a long day. Do you mind if we head off first?”

Back in the bedroom, she steps away from him, and he whines at the loss of contact. But when she tuts at him, he falls quiet.

“My naughty boy,” she scolds, voice light but firm. “Being so dirty and trying to touch me in public. I think I need to teach you a lesson in restraint today.” Her hand runs gently down his chest and he suppresses a shiver. “Will you be good for me, Koo?” At the sound of his pet name, the name she only ever evokes in times like this, he immediately nods. She smirks. “Sit on the bed.”

He’s quick to obey, sitting attentively at the edge of his bed. She takes his hands in hers, looking them over, admiring them. “Such beautiful hands. But so, so naughty today, wandering to places they shouldn’t have been.” She places them down on the bed just by his sides. “No moving.”

Then, she backs up to stand front and center in his vision. Knowing that his eyes will be glued to her, she runs her hands over herself, tracing the curves that she knows he’s dying to touch. Arching into her own touch, she releases the buttons of her blouse one by one in a teasing fashion, letting the fabric fall open to reveal the satiny sheen of her bra. Unzipping her skirt, she shimmies her way out of the garment. A tinge of self-consciousness creeps in at the thought of her plain undergarments and how they must pale in comparison to some of the raunchier lingerie sets she’s worn in the past. But Jungkook looks at her like she’s a pin-up model all the same, slack-jawed and pupils dilated. And it gives her the boost she needs to carry on.

Shrugging her blouse off, she saunters over to him and climbs to hover just above his lap. His hands twitch but stay where they are. Her fingers comb their way through the smooth locks of his blond hair, and she watches as his eyes flutter shut under the attention. He’s so, so pretty for her as he succumbs to her touch. Tilting his head back gently to have him look back up at her, she asks, “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” His voice is petulant. “I want to touch you so bad.”

“Do you deserve to touch me after your behavior tonight?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, taking his punishment. Smirking at his obedience, she hoists herself off to sit on the bed beside him, legs crossed and leaned back, the picture of self-assured confidence.

“Strip for me,” she directs simply.

It takes him a second to process her words. But when he does, he snaps to it, whipping his shirt and slacks off. But when he makes to pull his boxer briefs down, she stops him.

“Nuh uh. Those stay on.”

She scoots back and spreads her legs, patting the space between them to get him to come sit. As he does, he can feel the smooth slide of the satin material of her bra against his back, and he longs for the warm plush feel of her breasts against him.

But before he can get too lost in his own want, she grabs his hands to place them on his thighs. “Show me you can restrain yourself,” she says.

Meanwhile, her own hands go skimming up said thighs. Up, up, up, they slide, past the tingly ticklish sides and raking with a featherlight touch between his pecs that have his nipples perking up and begging for attention, his dick twitching in his briefs.

She strokes his collarbone and leans in to whisper in his ear, warm breath puffing against the sensitive skin and her smooth voice delivered directly into his ear makes it feel like she’s everywhere, like she’s overtaken all of his senses. “Will you be good for me?”

He keens out a yes. It’s all he can ever manage when it’s her.

Then, quick as a bolt, her hand drops down to stroke his cock through the cotton material of his briefs. With a pressure that is barely there, merely ghosting over the outline of his erection, her hand pauses where his precum has created a damp spot in the heather grey material. She swipes it ever so lightly with her pointer finger and giggles. “Is this for me?”

He nods, eyes squeezing shut as she rubs her finger over the tip of his dick. He groans out his answer, “Only for you.”

Her hand resumes the torturously fleeting touches over his erection, toying with him. Her legs are hooked over his, anchoring her to him as her hands run free. The smooth skin of her legs is right there. Right there, mere inches from his hands. But he’s not allowed to touch. Jungkook thinks he just might lose his mind. But then her finger comes tapping at his lips, and presses two into the warm, wet cavern.

She knows all about his oral fixation by now. It’s hard not to notice it when, despite every post-orgasm haze, he’s latching onto something of hers, be it a tit or her fingers or sometimes an intense but slow and languorous make-out session. Well-acquainted with his preferences by now, she gives him exactly what he needs. Jungkook sucks on the two fingers she’s granted him like it’s a lifeline, and it eases the ache for him somewhat.

But very soon it becomes insufficient, and his hips begin to rut upwards, seeking more than just the gentle sweeps over his cock that she’s graced him with so far.

“Please,” he begs. “No more teasing.”

But instead of giving him more, she covers his mouth with her hand, continuing relentlessly with the excruciating lightness of her touches. The resultant whine that comes out of him is muffled underneath her palm.

“You’ll take only what I give you,” she says. But as she finishes her sentence, she adds pressure to her strokes, relieving his want just enough to entice him yet keep him on edge.

He writhes against her, but each time his hips lift for more, she pulls away. He can’t even ask for more with the way her tiny hand silences him, the hot gasps that escape him puffing against her palm.

“You need to practice self-restraint,” she coos. He whimpers, and tries his best to control himself, to be obedient for her.

Trembling in the arms that snake around him, he attempts to get a grip on himself. Taking deep, shuddering breaths for what feels like multiple eternities, he finally calms himself down. Aside from the occasional reflexive twitch, he’s gotten himself under control, abs clenched tightly as he keeps a tight rein on his desire.

“Such a good boy for me,” she murmurs her praise, and she finally releases the palm that was over his mouth, stroking his hair back affectionately to tuck it behind his ear.

Then, her hand descends onto a dusky nipple, tweaking it and running slow circles around it, and his moan is released unrestrained and bouncing off the walls of his bedroom. Her hand slips down, down, down. Delicate fingers caress his balls, and it takes all the self-control that he can possibly summon not to thrust upwards, not to move his hands to grab her tiny ones in his, not to use the physical strength he possesses that he knows will easily domineer over hers to flip her over and pin her down and have his way with her already.

Instead, his hands grip at his knees where they’ve remained all this time. His nails dig into his flesh, creating little indents of crescent moons. Seeing this, she tells him to relax. At her gentle coaxing, he begins to release the tension held within his taut muscles one by one. He lets go, eyes falling shut as he lets himself flow with the languid strokes she unhurriedly palms through his briefs.

At his display of obedience, there’s nothing but contentment in her voice as she murmurs, “So good for me.”

Hearing this, he decides to try his luck. “Please,” he begs, his voice tiny. “I’ll be good from now on. Can I please, please touch you now?”

She hums in consideration, but it’s all feigned. Completely pliant in her arms, she knows he’s restraining himself as best as he can despite the way his body trembles with pure want. And she’s ready to give him what he wants.

“Ok.”

His eyes fly open at the simple permission granted. Afraid he might have just imagined it, he asks again, “I can touch you now?”

Pulling away from him, she slides herself backwards to lie fully on his bed and he turns to watch. She unclasps her bra, but leaves it on, giving him the honor of taking it off. Hands beckoning, and voice commanding, she directs him, “Touch me, Koo.”

He crawls forward meekly and gingerly lifts her bra from her, soaking in the sight of her breasts. Slowly, reverently, he traces a finger on her areola. She giggles. “Such a patient boy for me now.” He nods, delighted that she is delighted, and rolls her nipple between his fingers with more boldness.

“Do you want them in your mouth, Koo?” she asks, but it’s less a question than it is permission. With that, he bends to take the other bud into his mouth, and sighs at the feel of it against his tongue, at the satisfaction of having something to suckle on.

With his mouth busy, his hands go running all over her, across the planes of her ribs and caressing her sides and her soft tummy and briefly dipping into her bellybutton. She lifts a leg and grabs his hand to place it on the back of her thigh. Getting the hint, he releases her from his mouth, the bud slightly red and swollen from the attention, and lifts her other leg to pin her thighs to her sides. The damp spot he spies in her underwear causes pride to swell up in him, knowing that he did that to her.

“Here, Koo,” she says, tipping her chin up and pulling him in by the shoulders for a kiss.

Their tongues intertwine and he moans. He’ll never get enough of her. The way their cores fit against each other, melding together despite the two flimsy cloth barriers that separate them, is like they’re just made for one another. The thought of their twin damp arousals rubbing up against one another as their warm, wet tongues slither against each other in this erotic tango has his head swimming in the foggy lust.

She grinds upwards with her hips, legs hooked around his waist, dragging the softness against his dick that’s been painfully hard for god knows how long now, and the thin string of his restraint very nearly snaps. But he’ll be patient. He knows that’s what she wants. And what she wants, he gives.

“I want you, Koo,” she moans out. “In me, please.”

This, he’s happy to obey.

At her word, he pulls the last article of clothing that remains on her down, the last thing that separates her from his eyes. Her folds glisten under the yellow glow of his ceiling light, and it’s a sight to behold. He has to force himself to stay focused, to keep himself from the temptation of bending down to lick a stripe up her slit, to get a taste of her arousal. No, she wants him in her. And that’s what he will give her.

He pulls his briefs down, no time to get them fully off, and they wrap around his muscular thighs as he kneels and lines himself up to her entrance. And then, slowly, steadily, he slides himself in.

As much as he wants to focus on her pleasure and her pleasure alone, the warm and viscous arousal coating him and the velveteen, pillowy feel of her is a sensation like no other and he can’t help but get lost in it for a moment. The feeling is absolutely transcendental, and he pauses, relishes in it, thanking the heavens she’s on birth control.

“Feel good?” she asks, noticing his pause. He nods meekly. “That’s good. I like it when you feel good too.” She smiles and clenches around him lightly, pulling a moan from him. “I like it when you’re a good boy for me so we can both feel good. Will you make me feel good now, Koo?”

Her words set him off and he begins rolling his hips, slow but deep at first, then speeding up as she asks him to. The way her nails rake through his scalp and then down his back drives him forward, the clapping of their flesh together rhythmical with each one of his powerful thrusts.

Soon, the tell-tale signs of her oncoming orgasm begin to show. He feels her clench around him and watches as her back bows as she arches upwards, taking in the wondrous sight of her falling apart before his eyes as she finally erupts around him and coats him in her essence. His heart fills to brim and spills over. Watching her consumed in pleasure and knowing that he was the one to give that to her, it only takes Jungkook a couple more strokes to completion, and he collapses into her chest as he whimpers into the safety of her neck, creaming her walls white.

His lips latch onto the soft skin of her shoulder and he can’t do anything else but suck gentle hickeys into the expanse of her body. He would be content to stay in her forever, feel his dick soften in her plush folds. But she squirms underneath him and he pauses to accommodate her. Gently, she slides him out, but keeps him in her arms and his head nestled in her soft chest. He watches as she slips a hand down, dips two fingers into her pussy, and scoops out their mixed arousal. And as his doe-eyed gaze remains fixated on her glistening fingers, his mouth opening instinctively as they come closer, she slips her fingers and their cum into his mouth.

Savoring the taste of their coupling, he dozes off, completely spent, her fingers still in his mouth as he suckles on them tenderly. And as she watches, the thought of clean-up occurs to her, and she knows that the wiser thing would be to temporarily relinquish her comfort and get it done. But wrapped in his embrace and watching his little blond head rise and fall in tandem with her breaths, she really can’t help herself. Instead, she decides, that’s enough restraint for now.

#ficswithluv #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #btswritersguild #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook oneshot #jungkook pwp #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts pwp

[threeletterslife]

(Our Very Own) Camaraderie

→ [3/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: Adults have led you to believe that most things don't last in high school. But they'd been wrong. Amidst the teenage angst, the drama, the toxicity is a new friend. A friend you come to grow very fond of over the years.

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 85% fluff, 15% angst | high school!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, slut-shaming, mentions of f sc*tt f*tzgerald

→ wordcount: 19.9k

→ a/n: look out! some wholesome romance on the way!! jk and oc went from strangers to slight enemies to tolerating each other to friends to lOvers. if that ain’t a rollercoaster journey idk what is. this was also for @thebtswritersclub​​’s july prompt: __ to lovers!! (and i totally took liberty of this lmao)

His name is Son Jungmin.

The ink bleeds through the paper, a consequence of how hard you've scratched your pen across the straight lines of your journal. You're mad. Fucking furious.

From eighth fucking grade he's tormented me. And I let him do it all the way to junior year. Why did it take me so long to break up with him?

You attempt to run your fingers through your hair, inwardly cursing when the tangles make it hard for you to brush all the way through. And when you try to pick up your pen to write again, the pen breaks, a hideous, unwanted inkspot blossoming on the page. It bleeds through three empty pages. Great. Nothing in your life—not even the tiniest things—seems to be going right.

Quickly, you pull out a new pen and begin to write again.

I should've known to stay away from varsity soccer players. Even worse, he's a fucking cross country runner. I should've known. I was an idiot.

"Hey, babe, you coming to my soccer game on Sunday? The boys and I are planning to dip right after for some burgers."

"Aww, shit, I can't, Jungmin. I have a cheer comp on the same day. Guess we're tied by the ankles by our own sports!" You remember the genuine regret you'd felt that your schedules had clashed. Jungmin loves it when you cheer him on during his soccer games and track meets. You should've known. He'd never bothered to come to your cheer competitions.

"Babe, cheer's not even a sport," Jungmin snorts. "Come on, you don't need to go."

"It's for nationals, Jungmin."

"So?"

"So I can't come to your soccer game."

"That's retarded."

You should've fucking known.

He's popular, too. He knew all my friends and introduced me to his own. They weren't very nice.

"Heard you're making Jungmin keep it in his pants," Hakyung giggles. "Why wait so long? You know he's gonna leave if you... you know, don't give him what he wants."

"It's honestly not that hard," Bokhee chimes in. "You'll get over the awkwardness pretty quickly. At least, that's how it was for me and Hyunjoo."

"I dunno..." you say. "It's just that we're still sort of young... And I don't wanna do anything I'm gonna regret..."

"It wasn't even straight-up porn." Hyunjoo rolls his eyes, swinging an arm around Bokhee. "He just asked you to change in front of him."

I always felt so uncomfortable. But I thought I was just being sensitive. Now, I know that I should've made my boundaries more obvious.

But when I had to be in a wheelchair, it finally became crystal fucking clear what Jungmin's priorities were.

"Cheer's not even a dangerous sport. Don't know how the fuck you got injured."

"I'm a flyer, Jungmin. I'd say that can get pretty risky..."

"Whatever. I don't wanna be the asshole here, but you're not gonna be out of that wheelchair in time for homecoming, are you?"

"Of course I'm not..."

"God, I hate this. I'm gonna sound like a fucking asshole. I'm so sorry, Y/N. It's just that... Wow, I don't want to be the bad guy, but it's... it's gonna be a little weird to, you know, dance with you at homecoming... with your... situation and all, you know?"

"Oh."

"You understand, right? I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable by wheeling you around everywhere."

"Yeah. Yeah, no, I totally get it."

"I knew you'd understand, babe. You're the best."

Then he went to homecoming with another girl. I couldn't believe it at first, either. But maybe I should've opened my fucking eyes earlier.

It was a relief to break up with him. I spent three weeks rehearsing what I was going to say, but when I finally got it out, my words were jumbled and frankly, embarrassing. But not as embarrassed as Jungmin was that I dumped his ass.

My victory was short-lived, however. Because the day after I became free from that horrible, shitty asshole, I learned about the bet.

The stupid fucking bet. Jungmin had posted it on his spam account on Instagram—before he had deliberately blocked you. You're sure he did it on purpose. He wanted you to feel humiliated before you left him for good.

A cropped photo of you and him holding hands. The infuriating caption: "Fellas I have officially lost the bet. Couldn't fuck Y/N before any of y'all. Take your 50 bucks and get lost bitches."

You had shaken in anger when you'd first seen that post. How dare he?? And when you'd inquired about the bet to some mutual friends, you learned that Jungmin had asked you out in eighth grade, hoping you'd let him "hit it," so he could win some money. You've never felt more used in your whole life.

But the misfortune doesn't stop there.

"Oh... Soojin's sitting there, sorry."

"Um, not today. I'm busy with other... stuff."

"Sorry. I already have a partner."

Dating Jungmin had had its own perks. Everybody knew who I was. Everybody wanted to sit with me, talk to me, hang out with me, partner with me. But ever since I broke up with Jungmin, everyone's been distant. Did I do something wrong?

Distant might not even be the right word. People are avoiding you. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Jungmin's the culprit. So you begin to avoid them too. It's hard to transition from being a well-liked person to a person nobody gives two shits about. Classes become dull and much harder without the help of your peers, and partner projects are humiliating.

Especially now.

There you are, sitting in your IB Lit class, sharing a fucking table (and worse, a project) with Jeon Jungkook. He's a fairly well-known varsity swimmer—a smart one too, to be taking several IB classes on top of his rigorous swim schedule. He sounds like every girl's dream guy until you factor in the fact that he's one of Jungmin's stupid minions. You've seen them parading around together after school, during lunch, wherever the fuck they can hang out.

But the first six words he says to you catch you off guard. "Oh, hey!" he says, grinning widely. His teeth vaguely resemble that of a bunny's. "I know your boyfriend!"

You turn to him, eyes narrowed and frown lines stretching across your forehead. "I broke up with him." Two weeks ago, you want to add but you save yourself the trouble.

But things start to click into place. Right. Jungkook had gone to swim championships somewhere out of the country, so he must've missed a lot of the drama. You have no idea if that's for the better or for the worse.

Jungkook's eyes widen. "Ohhh, shit," he whispers. He's about to say something more but you turn your head away, suddenly busying yourself with your laptop—though the screen is blank—and glowering at the boy from the corner of your eyes. He seems to get that you want him to leave you alone. Soon, he's chatting loudly with Jungmin's other rowdy friends, high-fiving them and roaring with laughter. You swear to god, they're everywhere, Jungmin's minions. You might as well fail this stupid IB Lit project.

It's only been a little over two weeks but your life's taken such a drastic turn. Everyone tells you that any drama that happens in high school doesn't matter when you grow up, but it feels like your world's crashing down on you right now.

"You're awfully quiet today," your mother tells you over dinner. Your father fails to look up from his phone, ignoring most of the dinner conversations, as usual.

Your older sister scoffs. "She's been quiet for a couple of weeks, Mom. God, do you notice anything around here?"

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm busy running the whole household to take care of two moody brats."

"I run the errands in this household," your sister argues. "While also balancing my school work. You go to your yoga classes and go golfing with your friends."

"That's no way to talk to your mother. Do something," your mother urges your father.

He looks up from his phone and sighs. "Be nice to your mother. Both of you." He busies himself with his device once again.

"Y/N didn't even do anything," your sister grumbles. She grabs her plate and stands. "Whatever. I'm done eating." Without so much of another glance, she leaves the table.

Your mother rolls her eyes and looks across the table to you. You just shrug your shoulders. "Don't worry, mom. I'm fine."

"Your sister isn't," she replies before staring at her dish and refusing to talk.

You manage to escape the awkward dinner and flee back to the safe confines of your room, only to find your sister lounging on your bed. "Hey," she says.

"Hi," you say, managing to smile as you sit next to her. "Rough day?"

"Not really," she grins. "I just like to stir shit up a little sometimes. Besides, you looked like you needed someone to talk to. And Mom and Dad definitely aren't the ones to offer you support in that sort of area."

"Thanks," you say. "I've been having a pretty shitty couple of weeks."

"It's a boy, huh?"

You turn to her, eyes wide. "Yeah. Yeah. I broke up with Jungmin."

"Thank god," she groans, rolling her eyes. "I always hated that little motherfucker. Ever since he stood you up in eighth grade to meet his friends for that stupid fucking limited edition shoe sale."

"Yeah, well. I thought breaking up with him would make me happier," you say. "It didn't."

"Are his friends bothering you?" your sister asks, a murderous look settling on her face. "I have a full can of pepper spray. Also five different kinds of tasers."

You smile. Your sister never fails to make you feel better. "He's got to do something bad before I attack him blindly!"

"He treated my little sister like shit. That's a crime in it itself," she retorts. "And listen, just focus on your studies for now. Focus on cheer. You'll show them up when you get into a good college and they don't."

"I will," you say. "I'm going to."

"Forget about that peanut-brain and his herd of brainless pistachio-nut followers," she says. "They don't deserve your time."

"They don't," you agree.

"And learn to be satisfied with spending your time alone," she says. "This is grown-up advice so you better be writing this shit down."

"Mentally noted," you giggle. "Thanks."

But it's hard to forget about Jungmin and his pistachio-nut followers (your sister always comes up with the funniest insults) when you're paired with one of them for a goddamn project.

You're sitting in your IB Lit class, setting up your materials and getting ready to get some shit done today—since the previous day you'd been unproductive. But you vow that you're not going to let anyone bring you down.

Until fucking Jeon Jungkook walks in. He slides into the seat next to yours, and when you glance at his face, you notice that he—for some god-forsaken reason—looks apologetic.

"What?" you spit out.

"I... I'm sorry about yesterday," he says. Your eyebrows raise. "I didn't know the breakup was that bad. Guess I've been living under a rock."

He has. But at least he's apologized for it. That's a step better than Jungmin, at least. "Everyone's still talking about it," you say, "so I would actually appreciate it if you don't mention it again."

Jungkook, however, has no intentions of letting the matter go. "But they're saying he dumped you."

"WHAT?"

You forget to control the volume of your voice; consequently, the whole class (including your teacher) turns their heads to stare at you. Your cheeks heat up in humiliation.

"I hope your dramatic reaction has something to do with your project, Y/N," your teacher says.

You want to wither away and disappear. It takes everything within you to not burst out crying right then and there. So not only had Jungmin made your relationship a bet, had constantly treated you as his inferior but also couldn't handle the fucking truth that you dumped him?

Jungkook looks guiltier than ever. "Uh," he whispers. "You told me yesterday that you broke up with him so I was just a little confused." He continues on, not realizing that you'd covered your face with your hands. "He told me that he dumped you because you were obsessing over him and he didn't really feel comfortable about that."

It's the last straw.

You stand up, chair nearly knocking down from the harsh force of your movement. And without another word, you rush out of the classroom, staring down at your feet pounding against the white floor. Angry tears threaten to fall down your face but you manage to hold it all in until you hide in the nearest girls' bathroom.

It just gets worse and worse. You sob, back up against your locked bathroom stall, your hands up in your hair in frustration, anger, regret. You want the tears to stop but they pour down relentlessly. If this keeps up, you might just miss your next class. You so desperately want to pull yourself together. Do what your sister said and not give two fucks, but it's difficult. It's difficult to ignore what people are saying about you behind your back.

You're the villain. You've been painted as the crazy, obsessive girlfriend that Jungmin needed to dump for the sake of his own sanity. You're the crazy bitch who's been outcasted for having the guts to dump someone who treated you like shit.

And cheer. Cheer was supposed to be your escape. You were supposed to have fun, retain your physique, make friends, become cheer captain. But the past several days at cheer practice have also been a living hell. Back when you were with Jungmin, you becoming the cheer captain was common sense—no one dared to challenge that fact. Especially since cheer captain is a popularity game. But now that everyone fucking hates your guts, there's no way you'll ever make captain. And your cheer 'friends' have all ditched you, glaring at you when practicing your routines and creating a whole new group chat without you to make after-school hangout plans. It fucking hurts.

Everyone who you thought was your friend, wasn't. And even the people you don't know are afraid to approach you because of Jungmin's rumors.

You don't know what you're going to do.

You sniffle your nose, wiping your eyes clean. You'd cried so hard that your whole face is burning from the extra salt that it definitely did not need. Your neck glistens in tear water and you're quick to dry it off. When you check yourself in the mirror, your eyes are bright red, face contorted in a worrisome frown. You do look like you're kind of psycho.

You scoff. Fuck it all to hell.

And when you realize in your rush to empty out the tears you'd been holding in for days, you'd forgotten your backpack, a string of unkind curses leaves your mouth. Now you're definitely going to be late for your next class.

With wobbling steps, you walk out of the bathroom, careful to keep your head low in case anyone decides to poke fun at your pitiful state. But there, right next to the girls' bathroom door is your backpack.

You frown.

Crouching down, you open your bag to see all of your supplies packed up neatly inside. Someone had even taken the care to put your laptop back into its laptop sleeve. You have no idea who would've even bothered to do this.

The only person you can think of is Jungkook. Maybe because he's really the only person you've talked to at school in the past couple of weeks.

You swing your backpack over your shoulder, fingers grasping the straps. Hm. What a touching gesture. For some fucking reason, this makes you want to cry again. Maybe someone's on your side. Maybe your life hasn't gone to shit. Maybe there's still hope.

You hate how much you fucking flip-flop around in your head. How can you be so pathetic? You grit your teeth. Whatever. Just let it go. Ignore everything. You take a deep breath, slowly letting it out through your nose.

Time to get to your next class.

The feeling of being pathetic grows.

You lie on your bed, face digging into your pillow. Earlier, your sister had given you hell for choosing to skip dinner, but you didn't exactly feel like eating on such a queasy stomach. Besides, your mind has been occupied since IB Lit class.

Stupid fucking Jeon Jungkook.

You can't stop thinking about him, replaying the words he'd spoken to you. He'd looked guilty, he'd apologized. He feels sorry.

God, it's idiotic of you to latch onto him just because he's the only person who'll talk to you. How pathetic. But he's also the only person who gives you hope. Your mind replays his bunny smile over and over. Until his whole fucking face is ingrained in your head.

You need to get your head out of your fantasies. A distraction. Something to keep you grounded.

Just in time, your phone dings right next to you. It's a text. From an unknown number. Your heart sinks. Maybe it's Jungmin's friends trying to send anonymous hate again; they've done it before. They might do it again.

But when you unlock your phone and take a longer look at the message, your heart begins to soar.

[Maybe: Jungkook]: Hey Y/N! This is Jungkook from Lit. I was wondering what we're gonna do about the project?

Ohhhhh, fuck. He must've gotten your number from his bazillion friends.

And now you feel like a shitty fucking partner. It's been two days and neither of you have gotten anything done. All because you were being an emotional wreck.

Your fingers hover over your phone, unsure of what to type. Should you apologize for ditching him during class like that? Or will bringing it up make him annoyed? Or... will not bringing it up make you sound like a bitch?

[You]: oh yeah... kim said that we have to work on it at home to finish from now on

You pause momentarily, your thumb hovering over the 'send' button.

[You]: do you want to meet outside of class?

[Jungkook]: Yeah that's what I was thinking lmao

[Jungkook]: Wanna do this weekend? Saturday? I can pick you up and we can go to Target to get supplies

Hm. While the offer isn't bad, for a project, you've always found it easier to do your research first and then figure out what you need.

[You]: oh wait can we meet for a day to just do research tho?

[Jungkook]: Actually yeah that's a better idea lmao

[Jungkook]: I didn't even read the book oof

You manage to break a smile.

[You]: oh shit same

[Jungkook]: Sparknotes?

[You]: shmoop actually

[Jungkook]: Yk what we'll figure it out. I can pick you up Saturday and we can go to Starbucks to research

You know exactly which Starbucks he's talking about. It's the one practically infested with all of Jungmin's friends. You don't know if you'll be able to show your face there—especially during the weekend where you know you'll see your classmates.

[You]: sorry can we go to min's instead? the boba place downtown

[Jungkook]: Oh that's even better lmao. It's closer to my house

[Jungkook]: What time works for you

[You]: the earlier the better lol

The earlier you'll finish and get this over with.

[Jungkook]: I'll pick you up at 10?

[You]: sounds good

He proceeds to send you a GIF of some random soccer player giving the camera an enthusiastic thumbs up. You chuckle at the silliness of it before texting him your address and flopping back down on your bed. A relieving sigh leaves your lips as you turn your body to stare at your empty ceiling.

This had been the very first time someone's texted you since the incident and had intended a neutral conversation. It's nice to see that someone wants to message you and not feel the need to be mean. You can't even count the numbers you've had to block with both hands. For days and days, you'd get anonymous threats and passive-aggressive insults. No doubt from Jungmin's friends. You pause. But Jungkook is technically Jungmin's friend too.

Goddammit. Can you have one single victory? Apparently not. So you stay lying on your bed, pissed at the world and hoping this stupid, cringy teenage angst won't last too long.

For some reason, you'd thought the incident would blow over in a couple of weeks. Adults have led you to believe that most things don't last in high school. But they'd been wrong. Your peers are still giving you evil side-eyes whenever you come up in their peripheral vision.

You've lost about a thousand Instagram followers. And counting.

It had been so bad that you had to quit the cheer team, not able to stand the constant gossiping and whispering that had taken place with you just three feet away from them. Some of them had refused to hold you up properly during flying practice, which is also concerningly dangerous. That last time you'd gotten injured in cheer practice had been an accident; if it happened again this time, you would definitely think it was premeditated. And sure, maybe you aren't physically injured now, but it hurts too much internally. No one seems to care either. Because no one begs you not to leave.

So today, as fucking usual, you're forced to eat lunch by yourself. There are people not-so-secretly staring at you, wondering why the once so popular cheerleader girl had found herself eating lunch alone and completely friendless.

God, you'd been so fucking popular. You had a boyfriend. You were a goddamn cheerleader for fuck's sake. And now who the hell are you?

You pick at your lunch, appetite dwindling down under the harsh gaze of your peers. You begin to sweat, keeping your vision trained at your feet.

Fucking hell. At this point, you're actually contemplating reading The Great Gatsby. But not even this kind of incident could force you to read that kind of literature. Instead, you fish out your phone to watch Netflix, hoping the burning eyes will cease their incessant staring—either that or you'll just stop caring.

But it's hard to stop caring when you've cared so much in the past. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your ex... and lo and behold, fucking Jeon Jungkook. They're laughing with their stupid, rowdy group of friends, walking past the corridor you've settled in. Immediately, you duck your head down and pretend you're immersed in the blank screen of your phone. But from the reflection of your black screen, you can see Jungkook smile at you as he walks by.

You scoff quietly. What kind of fucking game is he playing? How can he be so kind to you and still hang out with trash bags like Jungmin? Could it be another one of those stupid bets? Your head reels at the horrible thought. Fuck. And you still have to meet Jungkook on Saturday.

Should you cancel? Make up an excuse? Pretend you're sick? Lie that you moved out of the country? Fake your own death? Run away with your sister to Neverland and avoid all impending adult responsibilities? Fuck, that sounds nice. But it's also not possible.

You'll have to wait for your brain to come up with a brilliant excuse to get out of seeing Jungkook again.

But Saturday rolls around and you still haven't come up with your million-dollar excuse. You've thought of the basics: 'I'm sick,' 'sorry I forgot I had other plans,' 'my parents said no,' 'I'm grounded.'

Yet when you begin to text those excuses to Jungkook, you can't seem to press the fucking send button. It feels wrong to lie. Besides, if you keep avoiding him like this, how on earth are you two going to finish this project? It's practically worth a whole test grade. You can't possibly fuck up your life more and end with any unsatisfactory marks.

At 9:59 a.m. your goddamn doorbell rings.

You can't believe this motherfucker's early. Maybe he wants to get over this as much as you do. Before either of your parents—or god forbid your sister—can get to the door, you beeline down, opening it up to see the boy.

He's dressed casually in some dark jeans and a black hoodie, messy hair peeking out through the hood tugged over his head. He's smiling, hand waving at you like you're some old friend of his. You just grumble your salutations before getting in his surprisingly clean (and expensive) car.

"You have a nice house," he tells you during the ride to Min's.

"Thanks."

That's the end of that conversation.

Jungkook's nice enough to pay for your basic house special milk tea boba (you're not gonna complain over complimentary drinks), and the two of you get to work immediately.

"Okay," Jungkook sighs, setting up his laptop and looking at you, eyes large and curious. "I reread the Sparknotes page yesterday. I think I kinda get what's going on in the book."

You nod. "That's good," you say. Keep it simple. Keep it short. Straight to the point. "What should our project topic be?"

Jungkook grins as if he's got the best idea in the world. "Duh, the easy route would be the American Dream."

You were afraid he was going to say that. It's such a typical fucking answer, anyway. Over-analyzed, overused and overdone. Of course he'd say the American Dream. Although the dream is fucking bullshit and only benefits men (who are predominantly also white). But do you have a better idea? And you also don't want to sit here and argue for a more creative topic. The point is to get this over with. "Yeah. Sure."

Surprisingly, Jungkook is a hard worker. But maybe it's not so surprising after all. You've heard he's an absolute god in AP Chemistry and passes his math classes with flying colors. Point made, he's definitely not stupid—especially considering that he's a Welton student.

Hours pass fairly quickly. The two of you are immersed in meticulous research, pulling out important-looking quotes from godsend Quizlets. It's actually a chill workday. Almost like you're on a study date with a friend. Except that boy next to you is not your friend.

Still, you can tell that Jungkook's respectful. He doesn't make weird, dirty jokes like Jungmin's friends usually do around girls. He treats you like he treats other guys. He treats you like you're human. It's a foreign feeling. You're so used to guys making indecent 'jokes' that you didn't actually think a high school boy could be this calm in the presence of a girl.

But your boy radar is absolutely shit. So you shouldn't even trust yourself at this point.

Just in time (before you get too lost in your thoughts), Jungkook speaks. "Hey."

You look up at him. "Yeah?"

"Can I..." He hesitates. "Can I ask what happened?"

Goddamn. Everything had gone so well up until now. You tense up, eyebrows furrowing and head already aching. It's obvious exactly what he's asking about.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Jungkook says when he senses your discomfort, which he should've predicted before he asked such an invasive question.

The only thing you can muster up is a: "I broke up with him."

"...That's definitely not what's being passed around."

You sigh, slumping back in your chair. "He's a sexist piece of shit." The words tumble out of your mouth before you could've stopped them. Maybe you'd put two and two together in your head before, but it actually feels good to let it out. Yes, Jungmin is a piece of shit, and the way he treats women makes it very, very apparent.

There's a bit of silence on Jungkook's end. Then: "Yeah... I heard some allegations against him."

You do a double-take, eyes widening as you stare at the boy. "Then why the fuck are you still friends with him?"

"Listen, listen," Jungkook says, hands raising up as he tries to defend himself. "I don't really like him either... I mean, I don't wanna get involved with someone who could potentially be an actual uh, actual assaulter... but—"

"But what."

"I dunno!" Jungkook exclaims. "It's bro code. You wouldn't understand."

You scoff. "I wouldn't understand? Well then fucking make me understand because bro code is kinda ruining my life right now."

Jungkook gives you a look. "Don't you think that's a little dramatic?"

You stare at him for a long time after that. So long that the boy gets fidgety. Yeah. You do have a shitty guy radar. You thought Jeon Jungkook was different. Turns out he's the exact fucking same.

"Nobody talks to me. Everyone hates me. Have you seen the things they write about me on Instagram? I've been called a whore for deliberately choosing to end a relationship that was hurting me. I've been called a slutty virgin and apparently, I crave attention and boys' validation and I'm just 'playing hard to get for a good fuck.' And god, have you seen the way they look at me? I had to quit cheer because everyone was giving me the silent treatment. They wouldn't even grab onto my feet properly and I really thought they'd let me fall. Again. And this time on purpose. When I got out of my wheelchair and started using crutches, no one helped me around. And I have no friends anymore. Do you think I'm being dramatic now?"

That was all just the tip of the iceberg too, but it seems just enough to make Jungkook speechless. You take the liberty to quickly pack up your belongings. He watches you, mouth slightly agape and looking at you with bulging eyes. He looks like an uglyass goldfish at the moment. You hate that you ever thought he looked like a cute bunny. Your hand reaches out to pick up your unfinished drink but you think better of it. You're gonna leave it. Swinging your backpack over your shoulder, you walk out of the place, not bothering to look behind you. And Jungkook doesn't even bother to yell after you to stop.

The minute you're out, you pull out your phone and call your sister.

"Hey... Can you pick me up?"

"Girl, I'm in the middle of class."

"Fuck."

"Where are you?"

"Min's. The boba place downtown..." You can feel your sister contemplating over the phone. "I'm so sorry but I swear, if you do this for me, I'll do your laundry for a week. Just please. Pick me up right now."

"I was gonna pick you up regardless of your tantalizing offer, but now that you've already put it on the table, I'm not gonna say no."

You want to cry tears of joy.

"I'll be there in a few."

"Thank you. Oh my god, thank you."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm the best fucking sister."

"You are."

When the call ends, someone behind you clears their throat. You whirl around to see the person you least want to see at the moment. He's looking frustrated, hair messier than it was before and his hood falling off his head.

He's gripping your boba drink, hand jutting out for you to take it from him. "Oh, c'mon, Y/N! I swear I didn't know any of that. I didn't know it was that serious."

You step backwards. "Yeah, well, that seems like a common theme amongst you boys. You never know anything but you pretend like you know the whole fucking world."

Jungkook takes a step forward. "Come on. We have a project. We can't fight like this, Y/N. Please... I have a borderline grade in this class right now." He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need... I need a fucking A, okay?"

"So what?" you scoff. "You're gonna get a fucking swim scholarship anyway."

"So what I'm doing right now is apologizing. I'm sorry. I really, really didn't know it was that bad. I mean, I saw you alone at lunch and stuff, but I thought you just wanted space. I didn't know... I didn't know you lost your friends."

You shake your head. You've spent too long being a pushover. Letting people run you over endlessly.  You've been goddamn patient—at home and at school. You just can't let it slide anymore.

"I'll make the presentation slides and write the script," you say, regaining your cool and staring straight at the wide-eyed boy. "You make the poster. We don't have to meet again. We've done enough research today."

Jungkook sputters, "B-But that won't make a cohesive project!"

"Figure it out, then." You glare at him. "I. Don't. Care."

Now, he looks desperate. "C'mon, you have to give me another chance."

The memory flashes before your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Jungmin. I'm so sorry." You're sobbing, ugly tears running down your cheeks and dripping to the ground. "I just can't do it anymore. I can't be with you."

"What the fuck, Y/N? You can't do this to me."

"I'm sorry... I just—I'm breaking up with you. Please, understand."

"No. No. Y/N, you can't. That's—We've been together for what? Three years?"

"Four."

"Four years, then. Fuck, you can't do this to me, baby, please. Give me another chance."

You'd said no then, and you're going to say no now.

Jungkook takes your answer as well as Jungmin had. "No, Y/N, seriously. I know—I fucking know I haven't been sensitive to your feelings or whatever. But hey, I do wanna help, okay? You know how fucking long I waited outside the girls' bathroom waiting for you to come out? And you know how much anxiety I got because I was going to be late for my next class but I also didn't want to leave your stuff outside without someone guarding it???"

Oh. So that had been Jungkook. And sure, he'd helped in the littlest ways, but it all cancels out. How can he still be friends with Jungmin? Is this some sort of dumb trick?

"Jungmin's not putting you up with this, is he?"

"What?" Jungkook looks exasperated. "What the hell do you mean?"

"This isn't a bet?"

"A bet??" Now, he looks confused.

You sigh. "He dated me as a bet. He and his other friends just wanted to see who could get into their girlfriends' pants faster. Jungmin lost."

"Oh, god."

"I know," you say. "You don't know what I had to deal with."

"No, no I swear," Jungkook insists. "I swear this isn't a bet, Y/N. This is all me. On god. I'm not even that close to Jungmin. We're just friends, okay? I didn't know he did that kind of shit."

"Yeah, well, he thinks cheer and dance aren't sports. Coincidentally, I've done both at one point in my life. And when I got my injury, he canceled hoco on me because he was too embarrassed to go with a girl in a wheelchair. You know that he asked another girl out too? We were still dating at the time."

Jungkook's mouth hangs open. "...What..."

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. "Whatever. Sorry. I'm just rambling now. Whatever. God, when the fuck is my sister coming?" you mumble. Unfortunately, Jungkook hears.

"I could've taken you home..."

"Yeah, well. Too late."

Silence.

"But I really am sorry..." Pause. "And I want to put our best in this project."

Of fucking course. Is he really sorry for you or is he sorry that the project's gone up in flames? You want to bite back at him, sass him, give him a mean reply you never had the joy of saying to Jungmin but your sister pulls up right by the sidewalk. Thank fuck.

Without looking back, you immediately get into the car, slamming the door shut behind you. Your sister raises her eyebrows.

"Your friend over there is cute," she says. But she takes one look at your face and sighs. "Another asshole, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Yeah, I'll get you out of here." She steps on the gas and the two of you swerve out of the parking lot and onto the road. "Don't waste your time on guys like that," she tells you as she drives. "It doesn't get much better in college, either. Just stay single like me and you'll be just fine."

On Monday, you don't want to go to school. But your parents would have an absolute breakdown if they learned that you ditched. And even more than that, you need to pay close attention in your classes—it's a good distraction from everything else that has been happening.

The strange, rude looks are gone. But now, nobody even bothers to look your way, making you feel absolutely invisible. Which, you don't exactly mind as much as being called a 'slutty virgin,' whatever the fuck that means. It seems like an unintentional oxymoron, which is concerning given the fact that students at Welton are supposed to be smart. Whatever.

I'll show them, you'd written in your diary. I'm putting everything into school, now. I'll get into a good fucking college and become a millionaire. They're gonna feel like fucking idiots.

But you still can't get used to sitting alone at lunch. There's just nothing to do. The school wifi is spotty on personal devices, and you don't exactly want to waste your data and watch Netflix like last time. You think about it for another moment, then with a gigantic sigh, you pull out The Great Gatsby.

Maybe it's time you actually read this shit.

You've seen thousands of nameless people on the internet claiming the book was their absolute favorite. You suppose you can finally see what the hype is all about.

But turns out, this book sucks. Though some sentences are well-structured and sure, the writing is pretty eloquent, you're sure you could come up with a more intriguing plot than whatever the fuck this is. You're already halfway through the book and you've been rendered unimpressed.

Yet reading the actual book gives you a much better idea of the story than Sparknotes or even Shmoop. Not that you care about getting the best understanding of the book; you could care less about getting a good grade on this stupid project. Your IB Lit grade is already pretty high anyway.

And Jungkook? Well, his grade is his own problem now. He hasn't texted you after the incident on Saturday, so you just assume the two of you will finish the project separately. Completely fine by you.

On Tuesday, you have an AP Physics II and AP Chemistry test. Neither of them bothers you too much, and you find yourself reaching to finish the second half of The Great Gatsby instead of studying for them. You'd finished the book at home yesterday and its contents have occupied your mind for hours now.

Even during lunch, you sit down, munching on your food and head buzzing with thoughts and interpretations that you'd missed on your research Quizlet runs. One quote seems to echo in your mind.

"I hope she'll be a fool—that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."

Daisy Buchanan had said this, the iconic queen that she is. Unfortunately, other readers don't seem to agree with you. There are accusations of which readers seem to wonder if Daisy had ever loved Gatsby. She's objectified and vilified for choosing financial stability over her feelings. Many think of her as vain and shallow to chase after money but men are praised when they do the same thing. Men, like Gatsby, are allowed to believe in the American Dream—the sole premise that if they try, they'll make it out to succeed. But this dream doesn't apply to women, who are thought of as weak and submissive. Even if they have big dreams, even if they want to make their own wealth, they're given far fewer opportunities. The only way for them to find their success is through marriage. So, what's so wrong with Daisy wanting success? Why is she the so-called antagonist?

Your head begins to hurt, mulling over all these thoughts and mean misunderstandings. Why are we reading this? The sexist subtones of this fucking book are barely discussed either. So are we just going to accept this blatant discrimination against women and assume it doesn't happen anymore?

Now you're absolutely livid. And it's time for some more research.

Chemistry and physics forgotten, you spend the brunt of your lunchtime looking up articles about Fitzgerald and his history as an author. Maybe that could shed more light on his rather questionable take on women in The Great Gatsby. What you find, however, makes you progressively angry.

Fitzgerald was one shitty fucking man. Definitely worse than Jungmin, too. He'd been caught taking large snippets of Zelda Fitzgerald's (his wife's) writings from her diaries and letters and having the sheer audacity to publish them as his own. He locked her up in their home and claimed she was deranged, which furthered the downfall of her mental health and stability. That man had treated Zelda like shit. And somehow, he's the bitch who gets praised in history.

Your head hurts from these revelations. It's almost hard to suppress your anger and for a moment you have to close your eyes and take calming, deep breaths.

But that's when someone clears their throat in front of you. Looking up, you see fucking Jeon Jungkook of all people. He's holding up his lunch bag, smiling kindly. God, you want to wipe that smile straight off of his face.

"Mind if I eat lunch with you?"

You stare at him. Well, more like glare at him, completely stunned into silence. What the fuck is his business? What is he doing? Why is he here?

But before you can even tell him, 'No. Get lost,' he opens his mouth and:

"I left Jungmin's friend group soooo yeah, I'm kinda in need of a lunch buddy right now."

Your mouth drops open. "You... You left Jungmin's group?"

The boy just shrugs. "Nah, it's not a big deal. Well... Maybe it is. We kind of had a fight, I guess. He admitted to doing a lot of... questionable things. I don't know. I don't support what he did, though. So I thought I'd do what you did. Cut him off."

Well... You're pleasantly surprised. But the words that come out of your mouth contrasts your thoughts.

"I know you have plenty of other friends to go back to."

Jungkook shrugs and he plops down next to you on the floor. "So? I wanna hang with you."

What the fuck. You're rendered speechless.

And maybe Jungkook senses the awkwardness because he shoots a question right away. "Sooo, what are you doing?"

"Thinking. Researching," you reply.

"Researching?" Jungkook asks. "Again?"

"Yeah, well, I found out Fitzgerald's a fucking incompetent bitch who stole his wife's work. Also, I read the book and I hated it. It's just so... god, it makes me mad that we idolize this sort of literature that condemns innocent women."

Jungkook's eyes are wide. "He plagiarized??? And we study his work?" He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Seems very much counterintuitive. I think you have a good point."

Your head jerks toward him. "Wait, I do??"

"No, seriously," he says. "The book does condemn innocent women and Daisy deserves justice. Wait, shit. This topic is so much better than the American Dream. We should totally go the feminism route."

This is the first time you've ever heard a guy say the word 'feminism' in an unmalicious way. It is a shocker, indeed. "Wait... really?" you ask. "You don't feel... I don't know, uncomfortable? Jungmin was always uh, uncomfortable when I brought that kind of stuff up with him."

Jungkook frowns. "That probably has something to do with the fact that he's an ignorant piece of trash. I'm trying to learn to be better, I guess. High school's not all there is to life. It's probably better to hang out with people like you than people like Jungmin."

Maybe you miscalculated Jungkook. Goddamn. Maybe he's being nice for the sake of being nice. Maybe you can trust him. How is he the only person you've met at Welton who is likable? Welton students don't like to learn for intrinsic reasons—they're all grade-obsessed zombies. But Jungkook proves otherwise. Does this mean you're actually going to give him another chance?

You take a look at the serious boy next to you. His eyes are slightly narrowed, forehead creased. He looks goddamn genuine.

You know what? A second chance, it is.

A small smile breaks from your lips. "I agree."

From watching your smile, Jungkook's serious look morphs into a look of happiness. "So?" he says. "Are we working together, partner? We'll kinda have to start over, though."

You give him a slight nod. "Min's? Today, after school? I'm buying this time."

"Deal."

The two of you chat until the end of lunch, and Jungkook even walks you to your physics class. Right before you're about to go into the classroom, however, he grabs your shoulder and leans in. Your eyes widen at his close proximity.

But Jungkook just simply whispers in your ear. "For the extra credit question, you have to use theta on the outer side of the triangle the bridge and the boat make to get that side length. The answer's 2.67 m/s. Good luck."

And just like that, he leans back, waves at you and walks away like he hadn't just given you the answer to the almost impossible extra credit questions your teacher likes to give.

So he does care. And he is nice. But wait a minute. It's that thing your sister always tells you. Guys aren't nice to you without some kind of an ulterior motive. Does Jungkook want an A in this class that badly? Still, you desperately want to believe that he's different. You want to believe that he just simply wants to be your friend.

And although you have so many thoughts jumbled up in your brain, you manage to ace the physics test, which really comes as second nature to you. You're not so lucky with the chemistry test, however. No worries, though. The generous curve will save your ass. And besides, you're kind of excited to meet Jungkook after school. There's a lot to discuss about The Great Gatsby.

"It's completely wrong how we're out here praising Gatsby for being so persistent with Daisy," you say. "He's unhealthily obsessed and we're supposed to feel sympathy for that kind of behavior."

Jungkook nods, sipping his drink.

"Daisy doesn't owe Gatsby jackshit. If she chooses Tom over him, that's her right, and she shouldn't be called the 'antagonist' for rejecting an incredibly immature man."

"No yeah, you're right," Jungkook says. "Daisy is written as a fickle, foolish woman and it doesn't sit right with me that we're insulting her for the same things that men do."

"Exactly."

Jungkook catches on quickly. And soon, the two of you have enough material to sit comfortably and chat about things other than the infuriating sexism of the Roaring 20's. As typical Welton students, there's not much else to talk about, though.

"So, do you have a dream school?" Jungkook asks.

You shake your head. "Not really."

He nods, seemingly understanding your college crisis. "But do you have a major in mind?"

In your wildest dreams, you'd love to be in the performing arts—to pursue dancing or even cheer. But there's always that notion of you wanting to prove something. There's something inside of you that just believes you'll regret going down the arts path when you have the perfect capability of pursuing STEM. And there is a lack of women in those departments...

You shrug. "I dunno. I'll probably go for physics or biochemical engineering."

"Damn," Jungkook says. "So you're smart smart."

You laugh. "Not exactly. But what about you? You have a dream school? A dream major?"

"Me?" Jungkook smiles. "I've got my eyes on Yale swim."

"Oh wow. You're smart smart."

He just shrugs in response. "I just wanna get out of here."

"Out of California, huh?"

"Yeah. Just to meet new people and get away from the Welton kids," he laughs sheepishly. "But we both know at least ten of them are gonna get into Yale next year anyway."

You snort. "Yeah, well, Welton kids and the Ivies are best friends."

"You could get into an Ivy League if you wanted to, Y/N," Jungkook insists. "I mean, c'mon. President of three clubs, cheerleader, straight A's, volunteering. What couldn't they like about you?"

"No one even comes to my club meetings anymore. Also, I'm an ex-cheerleader," you laugh. "And besides, they want a tragic backstory or whatever and the most 'tragic' thing that happened to me was Jungmin. I don't think they'll care much about ex-boyfriend talk."

"Eh. If that doesn't work then you can always try buying your way in."

You turn to him, eyes wide before realizing that had been a joke. You giggle, shaking your head. "I don't want to go to an Ivy."

"You don't? Then what was the point of going to Welton?"

You groan. "Well... I kind of followed Jungmin here..."

"Oh, shit."

"I know. Stupid of me. But hey, I know better now. I have no idea what I want for my future, but I'm figuring it out at my own pace. By myself."

"That's good to hear though," Jungkook says. "I think a lot of us don't know what we want. But we're expected to know anyways. Funny, huh?"

You nod, chewing on your boba thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder about the whole point. You know, getting into a 'good' college. Why do we care so much about the name?"

Jungkook shrugs. "I guess it's all about reputation. I don't know about your parents, but mine would kill me if I didn't get into an Ivy. Think about all the people who'd talk. 'He was in varsity swim, took hard classes and couldn't even get in?' I can just imagine them saying that kind of shit."

"Damn. My parents just want me to leave the house," you sigh. "I guess it really is different for everyone."

"Yeah. I guess it is. But for now, it just seems like happiness isn't really a priority," Jungkook says. "It's reputation over comfort."

"Maybe this will all make sense when we're older," you offer. "Maybe it's because we're so young."

"We're practically eighteen," Jungkook laughs. "I'd say we're pretty close to adulthood. But then again, it's the experience that makes up adults and not age, huh?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "At this point, I can't wait to grow up."

Jungkook smiles. "Me neither. Sometimes, I forget that we're just high schoolers."

"We study like college students, anyway," you snort. "It's easy to forget, I guess."

"I'm just scared we'll go to college and it'll be the same damn thing," Jungkook says.

"It could be."

"And you're not scared?"

"I mean, I feel like the worst has already happened to me," you laugh. "Maybe you're scared that you'll just peak in high school," you tease.

Jungkook just laughs along with you. "Oh, I'm not just scared, I'm terrified it'll actually happen."

"Don't worry." It comes out of your mouth before you can really register what you're saying. "You're definitely only getting better from here."

Jungkook looks surprised at your sudden compliment, but he hides it with a bright smile. "That's actually a lot coming from you, you know." A pause. "Smartass."

You're giggling, though being called a smartass isn't quite a compliment, it's really the way he says it that uplifts your spirits to the sky. Talking to Jungkook is actually more interesting than you'd thought. Maybe not all Welton students are mindless grade-zombies. Maybe more of them—like Jungkook—have deeper dreams, thoughts, plans. Either way, this is the most enlightening and genuine conversation you've had in years.

Jungkook seems to have enjoyed it too because the next thing you know, he's offering to drive you home. Unfortunately, you have to refuse since your sister had already volunteered to do the job (and who are you to decline your sister over a high school boy?). But the two of you part with smiles and good laughs—much different from last time.

Once you get in your sister's car, she turns to you, frowning. "So you're hanging out with the asshole again," she says. "Don't you hate him?"

"Hello to you too," you laugh. "And Jungkook? I don't know... I think I might've misjudged him. I mean, have you ever seen a guy invested in women's rights?"

Your sister snorts. "Yeah. The ones who wanna get into your pants."

This time it's your turn to frown at your sister. "You're saying he has an ulterior motive."

She nods. "Yeah, guys are like that. You'll see," she says, stepping on the gas and glaring at Jungkook who's waving from the side mirror. "Just be careful."

Your sister's looking out for you. You know that. And sure, maybe you feel a little wary deep inside, but... Jungkook really does seem nice. You might even go as far as to call him your friend after today. The real problem arises though when you ponder about whether he thinks what you have is a friendship. Is he assuming something else? Like what your sister believes?

God, you'll never know.

The Lit project isn't due for another month.

In the vocabulary of a typical Welton student, that means most haven't started the project—while the others (a minority) have already finished it.

You and Jungkook are in the healthy between, having completed the PowerPoint presentation and a basic outline of your script. All you really need to do now is finish the script and make the time-consuming poster board.

Meanwhile, everything at school falls into a pattern. Turns out, Jungkook has another friend group he's been hanging out with—all friends from swim. You're introduced to Seokjin, Jimin, Miru and Yejin. They're a nice bunch who are studious but also know good meme references like normal high school students should. They bring you comfort and company—two things you desperately needed since a disaster tornado called Jungmin struck. The six of you eat lunch together every day and you attend all of their swim matches. You know that if you were still in cheer, they would've gone to all of your performances.

"Hey, you ready to meet my mom?" Jungkook asks you as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

You do the same and shrug. "I dunno. Do you think she's going to approve of me?" you joke. "What if I'm not studious enough?"

He snorts. "You can't get more studious than that, Y/N."

The two of you exit his car and you find yourself in front of a rather nice house. It's large, well-decorated and has a grassy green lawn blooming with a variety of different flowers. "My mom insists on hiring gardeners," Jungkook laughs when your eyes widen at a particular bush trimmed to look like a deer. "Let's just say it gets really loud on Thursdays."

Now you're a little nervous to meet his mom—even as a friend. Is she the type to exile you if you're not up to par with her standards?

Jungkook enters the password on his lock and his front door opens silently. "I'm home!" he calls. "Y/N's here too!"

At that, a voice calls from around a corner. "Oh? Y/N!"

You and Jungkook take off your shoes before entering his home, only to be engulfed by warm welcomes from his mother. She looks very pleased that Jungkook brought a friend over and makes you know it by offering you plates and plates of fruit.

"Mom," Jungkook hisses. "We'll eat later, I promise. We have to do our project first."

"If you need anything, Y/N, just ask Jungkook," she tells you with a kind smile. "If he doesn't do as you say, I give you permission to hit him."

You laugh. "Thank you Mrs. Jeon! But I assure you that I'm not that demanding and Jungkook's always very nice to me."

"Nice?" Mrs. Jeon raises her eyebrows. "Ooh. Okay then." She grins. "You keep being nice to her," she tells her son, patting his back. "I'll leave you two to finish your project!"

The moment she leaves the dining room, Jungkook sighs. "She's always like that when I have friends over. I promise she's really scary though."

You snort. "She seems nice to me!"

Jungkook just shakes his head (though a smile rests on his face) and splays out the blank poster board that you and he had bought together last weekend on one of your Target trips. Immediately, the two of you get to work.

As typical Welton students, you and Jungkook mean absolute business. So much so that the two of you finish everything you'd intended to in just a couple of hours. You sit back with Jungkook, admiring the finished poster board and double-checking the script for the last time to make sure everything is coherent and perfect.

"I don't think it can get any better than this," Jungkook comments as he laughs at you reading the script for the umpteenth time, nitpicking the littlest words and phrases. "Your sister's picking you up at 7, right?"

"Mhm," you say, nodding. "Damn, that leaves us a whole two hours."

Jungkook thinks for a second before his face lights up from an idea. "Hey, let's hang out in my room, then. There's more to do there than down here."

You end up following Jungkook up to his room, watching as he plops down on his bed while you awkwardly lean against the door frame, unsure of what to do. You've never exactly been in a boy's room before—not even Jungmin's. He never let you in there. Your eyes take a swift glance around the rather large room. It's littered with glittering golden trophies and medals but other than that, it's plain and undecorated. The bedroom seems to lack the personality that Jungkook very much has.

But you also take notice of a nice mini fridge in the corner and a flatscreen T.V. right in front of his bed. Damn.

"Want something to drink?" Jungkook asks when he catches you eyeing his fridge. "I have lemonade, Sprite and Coke. Diet, I think?"

You politely decline with a shake of your head. "No, I'm fine." You're still awkwardly standing in front of the doorway.

"Then you wanna watch something?"

Glancing at his T.V., you decide that yes, some quality television will help ease the awkwardness. "Sure."

Jungkook pats his bed, gesturing for you to sit on it with him as he gets out a remote control from his bedside table and turns the T.V. on. You carefully perch on the edge of the bed, minding the weight you put on it before staring at the screen. Jungkook's browsing through his Netflix account, mindlessly scrolling through the options.

Your eyebrows raise as you realize he's been watching quite a few animes, the most recent being Attack on Titan. "Oh? You like anime?" you ask him.

For some reason, Jungkook looks embarrassed. "O-Oh... Yeah. But I swear I'm not a weeb or anything."

You snort. "Well, I heard some good things about AOT..."

Jungkook looks excited at your words and he grins. "Then do you wanna watch a few episodes? Subbed because that's always better."

You nod your head, yes, shifting in your seat to a more comfortable position.

"It's kind of gruesome, though," Jungkook warns you. "Is that okay?"

"I'll live," you snort.

And with that, you become immersed in a strange fantastical world of strange monsters and even stranger solutions. The first episode leaves you terrified and confused. The second episode leaves you excited and yet still confused. The confusion never ends but the excitement only grows.

At the beginning of the sixth episode, your sister calls. Both you and Jungkook jump at the sound and he laughs, pausing the show for you to pick up the call.

"Hello?"

"Come out, Y/N, I'm here."

"'Kay."

You turn to Jungkook. "God... That was..."

"Right?" He grins. "It only gets better."

You quickly stand up, straightening your clothes and gathering your school items. Jungkook follows you to his front door, opening it for you and sheepishly waving his hand goodbye

"Uh..." you trail off awkwardly, slipping on your shoes before staring at the taller boy. "I had fun."

He beams. "Me too."

You give him a final wave and then you're walking out of his house and into your sister's car. The moment you get in she asks, "So? How was it?"

You're not sure how you're going to explain this. "I dunno."

She turns to you, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"It's just that..." you pause. "Maybe I misjudged him in the beginning. Because right now, he's uh, pretty great."

Your sister raises her eyebrows. "'I have feelings for you' kind of great or 'wow such a good friend' kind of great?"

You roll your eyes. "A good friend. I'm trying not to get in another relationship in a while."

"Hope he knows that too."

"God, do you have to be so cynical?"

Your sister raises her hands in the air. "I'm not! I'm just trying to warn you. You know, help you."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Your sister always has good intentions for you. She works her hardest to be your second mother, to give you advice and support when you need it. But this time, maybe this time, her judgment is wrong.

The adults were right. With time, the drama begins to settle down. The bullying online comes to a stop—either that or you just don't notice the aggression as much. It's been quite a while since you've been on social media. You used to spend every waking moment with your old groups of friends taking Instagram-worthy photos. These days, you don't remember the last time you've insisted on taking aesthetic photos with Jungkook and your new friends. When you spend time with them, things feel so natural, so well-paced that you don't want to interrupt the moment by photographing it.

With time, your relationship with Jungkook also strengthens.

What started as a one-time Friday night AOT watching marathon turns into a weekly tradition. Now, you and Jungkook find yourselves using stream-sharing applications to wind down from the long weekdays and watch your show together in the comfort of your own homes. Sometimes, it seems like Jungkook loves watching your facial expressions a little more than actually watching the show. He likes poking fun at your terrified reactions when disaster strikes and finds it humorous when you begin to yell at the characters on the screen. In just two weeks, you've almost finished the whole anime with a few episodes of season four, part one left.

Jungkook suggests you come over to finish the anime (or at least what's been released so far). And who are you to decline?

This time, lying on his bed feels more natural. Popcorn and all kinds of snacks surround the two of you as your eyes glue onto the screen, watching the intense action sequences and gasping at the plot twists. Jungkook finds your reactions just as entertaining as the show itself.

The moment the final episode of the season finishes, you throw your hands in the air. "I need to know more!"

"We'll have to wait for this season's part two," Jungkook laughs, sipping his can of Diet Coke.

"I don't know if I can even make that wait," you groan. "When is it coming out?"

Jungkook grimaces. "Well... in a year or so."

You groan, falling onto Jungkook's bed and covering your face with your hands. "I definitely can't wait that long."

"Just stay away from the internet," Jungkook warns you. "You'll need to watch out for spoilers."

You sigh, picking yourself up from Jungkook's bed before glancing around his room and catching sight of your Lit project poster. "Hey... I just realized we never rehearsed our presentation."

"Oh right," Jungkook snorts. "I've read over my script a couple of times and called it a day. Wanna give it a whirl now?"

The two of you scramble up and take the presentation from the top. It's perfect. There are no mistakes. Neither of you stumbles over your words (having memorized large chunks of the script already). If you present just like this in a couple of weeks, you're guaranteed an A. But what else would you expect from a couple of dedicated Welton students?"

Soon, you and Jungkook have sprawled on top of his bed again, lost in conversation.

"Nah, my AP scores are ass," Jungkook sighs, picking at the loose thread on his comforter.

"At least you've got something to show on your SAT," you pout. "I'm barely at the average a Welton student should be."

"I can't believe we have to worry about standardized tests on top of our GPA," Jungkook says. "Sometimes I feel like we're not actually learning anything."

"Right?" you say. "It's always about scores and numbers and the goddamn letter 'A.' We learn only because we have to—for our grades—but not because we genuinely wanna learn."

"Even when I want to learn more, when I ask my teachers questions, they always answer with, 'That's not on the test,'" Jungkook sighs.

"I know! Mr. Kim, we don't give two fucks if it's on the test or not. We just genuinely want to know more."

"It's as if learning without a letter grade is a foreign concept to them," Jungkook says.

"School isn't education," you snort. "It's a business. We're just feeding into it."

"And I guess it all comes back to capitalism," Jungkook says, grinning. "Not that what we think matters anyways. Adults think we're too liberal and we're only this way because we haven't 'lived life.' Other kids our age just don't really care."

"It's because they think our criticisms are baseless," you say. "They think we're stupid to point out the problems and then not do anything about it."

"But what are we supposed to do about it? To them, we're too young to actually offer solutions but we're also too old to be complaining about societal issues. Which is it, really?"

"They need to make up their damn minds," you say, rolling your eyes.

"I'm just glad I have someone to rant about this shit with," Jungkook says, turning over to face you. He’s grinning and his eyes are sparkling with an emotion you can’t quite discern. You don’t know what it is about him but you smile right back.

"Me too."

"Listen, I just got the craziest idea."

Your eyebrows raise. "Really?"

"We should go to prom together."

Your eyes widen. And your heart sinks. Is this what your sister tried to warn you about? That he never even considered you as a friend? That you were always someone he has to date, to be in a relationship with?

When Jungkook sees your hesitation, he panics, stuttering as he tries to relay his next few words. “Wait, I… Sorry, I meant like, you know, as friends.”

Oh.

You’d misinterpreted him, then. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh,” you laugh nervously. “Sorry. I thought… yeah, whatever. No, I mean, yes. Let’s go.”

“We were planning to go as a group,” Jungkook explains. “You, me, Seokjin, Jimin, Miru and Yejin. Jimin’s unofficially officially going with Miru and Seokjin’s going with Yejin. As friends. It’s just a big friendly friend group date night,” he explains almost sheepishly.

You giggle. “That sounds really fun.”

Jungkook looks at you, smiling fondly. “It will be.”

He drives you home that night, waiting until you safely get into your house before resting his head against the wheel. He gathers his breath before shifting gears and driving away without another glance behind him.

Miru and Yejin wanted to take you shopping for prom dresses but you'd already promised your sister that honor. Besides, Miru and Yejin are too nice to honestly tell you what dresses actually look good on you.

“Ew that's fucking ugly, take it off,” your sister snorts as you twirl around for her in a sleek black dress.

“It looked good on the mannequin!” you protest.

She snorts. “Everything looks good on the mannequin. Besides, who are you trying to impress here, anyway? Jungkook said you’re going as friends so don’t go looking all regal or he might change his mind.”

“I trust him,” you say.

Your sister stares. Finally, she sighs. “You know what? Maybe I’ll trust your judgment this time. In that case, look.” She points at a silvery blue dress hanging nearly hidden on the sales rack. “Doesn’t that one look nice?”

You have to agree. And when you try on the dress, your sister cries mock tears, pretending to wipe them away with her sleeve. “My little sister’s all grown up.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, twirling around in the sparkling gown. “Do I really look great?”

“Have I ever told you a lie?”

You think for a moment. “Well, yes. Remember when you told me babies come from storks?”

“I wasn't about to explain the whole reproductive process to a six-year-old!” she hisses. “But I’m serious. It’s beautiful. You look great. And it’s on sale. A win-win!”

The dress is a keeper. Your sister buys it for you from out of her own pocket, and you make a note to yourself that if you ever end up rich, you’re gonna buy her a fucking car or something. She was always your second mother (and your preferred one at that).

Soon, the day of the dance comes and your sister’s making the last few finishing touches on your makeup when the doorbell rings.

“They’re here,” you tell her as your sister cleans up the edges of your eyeliner and pats your cheek adoringly.

“Have the time of your life,” she says. “High school doesn’t last forever.”

“Such good advice,” you laugh. “Any more parting words of wisdom for me?”

She pretends to think. “Hm. No. Just have fun. And stay safe.”

Your sister walks you down the stairs and you put on your heels at the front door as your sister opens it. There stands Jeon Jungkook, a bouquet of yellow flowers in his hand, wearing an elegant navy suit with a silvery blue tie.

The moment he sees your dress, he laughs. “We’re matching!”

Your sister raises her eyebrows. “Wait, you guys didn’t do it on purpose?”

“No,” you giggle, taking the flowers from Jungkook and smelling them. “We didn’t plan this at all.”

“I was actually betting on you wearing yellow,” he snorts, gesturing toward the bouquet. “But your dress outdid my own thoughts. You look great.” He grins, nose scrunching cutely as he outstretches his arm. “The others are waiting in Seokjin’s minivan.”

You smile at his compliment, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Thanks. You look good too.”

Your sister watches your exchange with raised eyebrows and a look of amusement on her face. “Well, go out and have fun, you two. And Jungkook?”

“Yes, ma’am?” he says, saluting at your sister.

She snorts. “Get her home by three.”

“I’ll do you one better and get her home by midnight.”

Your sister nods approvingly. “Well, that leaves seven hours of fun, doesn’t it? Get off the porch, then! Bye, Y/N!” She waves at you enthusiastically, almost as if she’s sending you off to college. In reality, you’re just going to dinner and a dance.

You and Jungkook rush into Seokjin’s minivan, sitting together in the back and screaming the lyrics to Party in the USA. Jungkook had offered to buy everyone dinner at a nice sushi place. Thank goodness they put you in a walled-off room because Seokjin and Jimin talk everyone’s ears off. It takes two hours to eat with Yejin ordering more and more sodas for everyone because today’s her cheat day. At one point, Jimin and Miru stir up the most revolting concoction of soy sauce, sriracha, sugar, wasabi, water and lemon juice and dare Seokjin to drink it. He does, to everyone’s surprise. For the next fifteen minutes after, tears stream down his face from the spice and disgusting taste. You and Jungkook giggle, filming his reaction to keep for memory’s sake. Yejin pats Seokjin on the back and orders him a can of Sprite.

By the time the six of you leave the place, it’s dark outside. You’re running a little late for the dance (a consequence of having such a fun-loving friend group). But it also means you miss the crowd at the entrance so you get into the dance fairly easily.

The theme for prom this year just so happens to be ‘Out of this World,’ which works perfectly with your and Jungkook’s outfits. The six of you dance so hard in the flashing lights and loud music that after three hours, you’re sweating bullets and kind of feeling the need to throw up.

Jungkook announces to the group that you and he are going to play the galaxy arcade games around the refreshments table, which prompts the whole group to follow you. Turns out, Jungkook is an arcade pro. He makes the games look easy, and ends up beating the high score on the machine.

While the rest of the group goes back to dance, you and Jungkook decide (well, you decide) that you’ve danced enough today to last a lifetime. To avoid the mustiness of sweat and the stuffiness inside the building, Jungkook leads you out to the quad. The two of you walk around the dimly-lighted space before you suggest heading over to the baseball field.

You and Jungkook climb up the metal stadium stands, laughing and giggling at who knows what. He slips off his suit jacket, wordlessly handing it over to you. How he knew you were cold, you have no idea. The two of you sit side by side, with you leaning back to stare at the dark sky and Jungkook leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. It’s silent for a while as the two of you let the night breeze caress your wet faces and gather your thoughts.

You tug Jungkook’s jacket closer around your frame. It smells like him. Fresh lavender soap and warm vanilla. You want to sink yourself into the scent forever.

It’s so serene like this. Just the two of you. Winding down from the loud day with silence.

Why does it feel like you should be leaning against him?

Why does this feel romantic?

“My stomach’s gonna burst,” Jungkook says. He effectively lightens the mood and makes you laugh at such a sudden confession.

“The sushi’s still sitting in your gut, huh?” you laugh. “I don’t know how Seokjin’s faring after drinking that nasty thing.”

Jungkook laughs along with you. And his laugh is the prettiest laugh you’ve ever heard. Twinkling like the night stars and light and silvery like wind chimes.

When you look at his face, illuminated only by the dim stadium lights and moonshine, you realize then and there that you might feel something for him.

Fuck. Not now. Why?

But he treats you as his friend. Hell, you want him to treat you as his friend.

“I think I see Orion’s Belt,” Jungkook says, nudging your shoulder and pointing at the sky.

You squint. But all you see is the black sky. The stadium lights make it hard to see anything out in space except for the moon. “I don't see shit.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Me too. I was just joking. I don’t know shit about astronomy.”

You smile. You don’t want to jeopardize this. You’re not going to mess this friendship up. It’s too perfect.

“Oh shit, it’s like twenty minutes to midnight. I gotta get you home.” Jungkook stands up and holds his hand out for you to take.

You look up at him and decline his offer, standing by yourself. “We need to gather up our friends.”

Jungkook snorts. “Nah, we should take a Lyft. They’re probably dancing their hearts out and I don’t want to cut their night short.”

“You should go back to them,” you say. “I don’t wanna cut your night short. I can take a Lyft back home by myself.”

“Wow, you wanna get rid of me that badly?” Jungkook laughs. “Your sister would have my head on a stick if I let you go home alone this late.” He pauses. “And I enjoy your company. I’ll call the Lyft.”

Minutes later, you and Jungkook sit in the backseat of a car, the middle seat acting as some sort of barrier between the two of you. It’s silent during the whole ride. You can’t help but replay the moments you’d spent with him today over and over again. You wonder what Jungkook’s thinking about. How he had the time of his life with a friend, probably. Either that, or about how tight his pants are around his stomach after that huge meal.

God.

Why do you have the urge to pull him by his collar and kiss him? You want to sit close to him, rest your head against his shoulder. Be with him.

That familiar feeling crawls back to you: patheticness.

You try to tell yourself that you’re just lonely. That you'd use any excuse to feel like you’re in a relationship again. But no. You genuinely like this boy. And you’re going to do everything in your power to hide it, to ignore it.

When the Lyft stops in front of your house, Jungkook opens the door for you and you slip out, minding your gown. He walks you up to your doorstep and you shrug his suit jacket off, handing it back to him.

He mumbles a small thanks before grinning widely, revealing his bunny-like smile. You have to look up at his hair to avoid falling for it even more.

“I had the best night, Y/N,” he says. “See you on Monday?”

You nod, eyes sparkling as you stare into his own. This is the moment in movies where you kiss. And then someone would open the front door and interrupt you.

But this isn’t a goddamn movie. Nor are you in a cheesy high school romance story.

“Thanks, Jungkook. I had a lot of fun too.”

And without any kisses, any parting words of romance, the two of you part.

I forgot what it feels like to like someone, you write. But I remember now. My insides feel twisted upside down. It’s hard to speak sometimes. I have to rehearse what I say so I won’t stutter and sound like an idiot. I want to put up my best front for him. But he’s comfortable being himself around me. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what to do but act like nothing has changed. Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook for waltzing into my life and staying.

It feels like an era is ending. Everything had started when you'd met Jungkook for the Lit project, but now things feel like it’s coming to a close. Because today’s the day you and Jungkook present your topic.

And it’s quite amazing if you say so for yourself. Better than some of the other topics you’ve witnessed the past few days during presentations. More than half of the presenters have chosen the American Dream as their topic, and after a while, it gets irritatingly repetitive.

But your topic is a breath of fresh air.

Your teacher is head over heels in love with the idea.

“What a refreshing take on The Great Gatsby, Jungkook and Y/N. In my twenty-seven years of teaching at Welton, I’ve never seen anyone approach this topic before. You've both made excellent points and you've opened my eyes to the quandaries of modernism."

He gives you a 98. It's not 100 (but Welton teachers try to withhold from a perfect score at all times), so you and Jungkook know it's basically the best score Mr. Kim's willing to give. Compared to Jungkook's friends' 78's and 83's, 98 is quite the accomplishment.

"This kind of achievement deserves some celebration!" Jungkook hoots as he pumps his fist in the air. "Boba after school?"

Boba after school, indeed.

The two of you walk to Min's side by side, arms swinging next to each other but hands never quite touching. "I still can't believe we aced that thing!" you say.

"Really?" Jungkook grins. "I can. We're just that good."

You smile. "I think he took off two percent because I stumbled over my words for half a second."

Jungkook just shakes his head, chuckling. "Nah, he took off two percent because I forgot to bring my formal shoes."

"How do you know?" you giggle, eyes following down where Jungkook's pointing at his black hightop Converse.

"He wrote it on the rubric," Jungkook laughs. "But even if I did wear the right shoes, you know he would've found some way to prevent us from getting that 100."

"Maybe then he would've actually taken off points for my half-second verbal blunder," you say. You're about to say more when you look up at your surroundings and see a familiar building that casts a shadow over the two of you. It's a nice-looking place with a scarlet red sign reading Hart's Dance Studio, and there's that slim silhouette of a ballerina jumping over the top. When you were younger, you'd always imagined yourself to be that ballerina. Tall, graceful, majestic.

Jungkook stops walking to look at you staring intently at the building. "Do you know this place?"

"Oh yeah," you sigh. "I used to go here almost every day for practice."

"Right. You were a dancer," Jungkook murmurs. "Do you... do you um, miss it?"

Miss it? Of course you do. "Yeah..." You nod slowly before turning to Jungkook and beaming. "I don't miss the people there at all, though. I found my people right here." You point to Jungkook's chest, making a motion to jab at it. He laughs in response and puffs out his chest.

You're not sure if you're imagining it. But his eyes sparkle in happiness? amusement? as he laughs. And for just a split second, his hand grazes yours. You feel the electricity from the top of your head to the tips of your fingers. Your heart beats quicker—too quick and your face is warm even though it's a little breezy outside today.

"I found my people right here too," Jungkook says. He pats the top of your head before tousling your hair.

And that's when you know that he considers you as his best friend. You consider him as your best friend too. A best friend you currently have feelings for.

Junior year ends with an absolute bang! Your grades have never looked better, your mental health is immaculate and your friend group is toxicity and drama-free. With the blessing of your stable academic life, you're able to commence hot girl summer with no regrets.

"Fuck private school," Yejin snorts. "I'm going to a community college and transferring. Saves money and tears." She sprays excessive tanning ointment onto her legs, lathering it into her skin for maximum effect. "Jungkook, are you still looking at Yale?"

He nods sheepishly, adjusting his swim goggles on top of his head. "Have been since day one."

"He's training for it every day," you giggle. "Of course he's gonna get in."

"Hurry up and go do some laps," Seokjin orders. "I want a 500 free, stat!"

"Make it 1,000!" Jimin yells.

Jungkook just rolls his eyes but he flexes his arm muscles and stretches his back, enunciating the faint outline of a six-pack and hardening his thigh muscles. "Fine."

You have to struggle to make eye contact with him, not daring your eyes to wander further down to his well-toned body. He dives into his pool completely flawlessly—there's barely a splash of water. And he begins to swim.

Usually, you're at his backyard pool with him alone every morning, watching and helping him train. You're his lap counter, his timer and sometimes, you get to sit on his back when he does push-ups. On slower days, you watch him make laps around the pool as you sit down on his poolside chairs and do some extra physics studying. But today, Jungkook has invited the rest of your friend group for some poolside fun. Except no one's looking to get in the water (having done enough of it at school).

"Seokjin's aiming for Vanderbilt, Jimin's for Georgetown and Miru's into Duke," Yejin announces. "You still don't have a dream school, Y/N?"

You nod your head. "I'm probably going to go to a UC," you say. "But I'm applying to three privates."

"Oh?" Seokjin says. "That's new news."

"Yeah. I'm looking at Caltech, Stanford and MIT."

"Easy money," Yejin snorts.

"With your stats, you'll get in," Miru says.

"I highly doubt it," you snort. "Besides, they've been picking fewer Welton students over the years. So something's not working out on their end."

"Then the UC's it is," Jimin declares. "Don't worry. We'll all get into at least two of them. Maybe as Regent's Scholars." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Have any of you started your applications?" Miru asks. "I don't wanna write my essays and sound like I'm forty-five and in a mid-life crisis. But I heard Ivies eat that philosophical bullcrap up."

"Just be you," Seokjin sings, which earns him an ungrateful push from his friend.

"Nah. Just write about how an egg salad represents your life," Yejin says. "They also seem to eat that shit up."

"Or write about how you're not like the other girls," you say. "They'll go absolutely batshit crazy for it."

Miru rolls her eyes. "Your advice is what sounds batshit crazy," she grumbles. "But there's also a hint of truth in it. Which is what makes it so depressing."

"You should ask Jungkook for some real advice," you say. "He's halfway done with his Yale application already."

"What???" Jimin hollers. "It's the beginning of summer!"

"That's what makes him Ivy material," Seokjin snickers.

The five of you turn your heads to watch Jungkook make ceaseless laps across his pool, his speed steady and never decreasing. He's always hard at work, always pushing towards his goal. If anyone deserves to get into a good school, it's him—and that's your totally unbiased opinion.

"Step on the brakes. Yeah, the brakes. Shit, Y/N! That was the accel!!"

"Sorry!" you squeal, hair in disarray as you slam your left foot on the brakes. "I get them mixed up!"

Jungkook grips the grab handle and smiles nervously. "Um, Y/N, I kinda wanna live to see the end of our senior year."

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure we'll last 'til then," you say, tongue peeking out of your lips as you concentrate making left-hand turns around Jungkook's gated community.

"You're driving 30 when it's 15!" Jungkook wheezes. "What are you in such a rush for? Slow down!"

"It's so boring when we're going so slowly," you complain, sighing as you lift your foot from the pedal. "Hey, want me to drive us to Min's?"

Jungkook looks at you like you're crazy. "No??" He pushes your shoulder lightly. "Here, I'll drive us there. Let's trade seats."

You're a giggling mess as you sink into the safety of the shotgun seat, and even Jungkook's grinning, shaking his head as he shifts his car gears. "I don't know how you do it, Jungkook," you say. "You make driving look easy."

"Maybe it's an inborn talent," he snorts. "Or hours and hours and hours of practice."

"Want anything to drink?" you ask, crouching down in front of Jungkook's mini fridge and surveying the drinks that are stored inside. "Ooh! You bought strawberry Fanta!"

"Yeah 'cause you like it so much," comes Jungkook's answer. He stretches out on his bed, shifting through the shows and movies on Netflix. "Can you hand me a Powerade?"

You toss the bottle to him and he catches it with one hand, without looking. You settle down next to him on his bed, holding your can of strawberry Fanta and staring at the screen. His bedroom lights are dimly lit for the purpose of home theater but it sets a rather romantic mood—especially with his golden trophies twinkling in your peripheral vision.

Jungkook pulls out a silky blanket from behind his pillows and splays it across your laps, careful so that more of it lands on your side than his. Your heart flutters at his thoughtful gesture.

Legs touching and shoulders leaning against each other, you and Jungkook watch About Time for practically the fiftieth time together. It's both of yours' comfort movies. Something the two of you watch when there's nothing new on the streaming platform. And no matter how many times you lie side by side with Jungkook, watching a romantic movie, you can't shake off your feelings for him. He glows in the darkness, eyes shining with enjoyment and softening when he turns to look at you for your reactions. Or maybe you're imagining that.

You probably are.

Either way, by the time senior year rolls around, you've seen more sunlight and fun in one summer than your whole other years at Welton high school. All thanks to Jeon Jungkook.

The option of confessing to Jungkook has lingered in your mind for some time now. But a confession would be fruitless if you're not expecting him to do the same. Why put a perfectly well-going friendship on the line so I could get something off my chest? you scribble across your diary. Jungkook and I are perfect as we are right now. There's no other way I'd want our relationship to—

"So are you and Jungkook dating yet?"

You sigh, setting your pen down and turning around in your chair to see your sister grinning, leaning against your door frame.

"We're just friends," you say, closing your diary.

Your sister flounces on your bed, resting her face in her hands. "But he's a great guy, though." She wiggles her eyebrows. "You've gotta admit."

"Yeah, well, he thinks of me as a friend."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"So you do like him."

"...Mhm."

"I mean, you have my blessing and everything," your sister says, sitting up from her position and cocking her head. "But you're not going to confess, huh?"

"Never."

She gives you a strange look. "I know it sounds counterintuitive to what I've been telling you for years, but when you see a guy like him, you know the right move is to go for it?"

You laugh out loud, eyes widening at your sister's words. "Are you saying Jungkook's the perfect boyfriend material?"

"He drives you everywhere. He helps you study. He buys you food all the time. He even taught you how to drive," she points out. "I don't even know a lot of boyfriends who'd do that for their girlfriend."

"He's just paying me back for helping him with all of his swim training," you say, shaking your head.

Your sister raises her eyebrows as if she finds that hard to believe. "Suit yourself," she says. "If I were you, I'd confess. You'd be surprised to see how he reacts."

"Jungkook's probably going to Yale, and I'm going to stay in California," you say. "There's no point confessing so late in the game, you know?

Your sister shrugs. "Long-distance?"

"Never," you reply. "And this is if Jungkook even feels the same way. Which, he doesn't."

"All right, all right," your sister says. "I'll stop pestering you." She gets up from your bed and lingers at your door frame. "But I'm telling you it'll be easier to get out of the friendzone now than, I don't know, six years down the road."

You roll your eyes as you watch her leave. Now, this is where your sister's wrong. You have no intention of leaving the friend zone. Besides, you don't have time to worry about boy trouble. College apps are due just around the corner.

You barely even have time to meet up with Jungkook and your other friends. What makes your sister think you can have a whole hypothetical relationship?

Your teachers refuse to let up on their workload, too. You'd think they'd go easier on you as seniors are balancing their college apps with their school life, but you should've known Welton teachers are merciless. But you manage to score your straight A's and leave just a smidge of time to FaceTime Jungkook every now and then.

The two of you keep a bucket list of things to do as soon as college apps are finished. Things including a tour around LA, late-night drives, cafe study dates (the term date used completely platonically) and museum viewing.

There's a part of me that wonders if I even deserve to be friends with Jeon Jungkook. How can someone be so perfect? Or am I just not seeing the flaws?

If I can barely digest being his best friend, how would I ever date him like my sister wants me to? I'll never confess.

And I'm fine with that.

But you're not fine.

When he smiles at you, talks to you, even just sits next to you in silence, your heart feels like it's going to burst.

When he picks you up, opens the shotgun door for you, when he compliments your improving driving skills, when he suggests going for a boba run at 10 at night... They're all moments that make you realize that you're falling for him more and more. It feels dangerous to be into someone like this. Does this mean you're too blinded to see him for who he really is? Or have you fallen for this man because he's so impossibly perfect?

"Y/N..." he calls your name. His voice is like that of a siren's—tantalizing, delicate and alluring all at once. He stares into your eyes, his brown ones softening as he carefully reaches forward to graze his fingertips on your cheek.

"Hm?"

But before you can really react, Jungkook surges forward and captures your lips with his own. Your mouths slot together perfectly, his hands cupping your face and your arms moving to sling around his neck. You imagine he tastes like fresh mint or maybe even Mountain Berry—from all that blue Powerade he drinks all the time.

Wait.

Imagine?

Fuck.

This isn't real.

You blink back to consciousness, cheeks heating up that you'd ever fantasize about kissing your best friend. It's humiliating and though no one else is in your room with you, you hide your face with your hands. This isn't the first time you've daydreamed about being with Jeon Jungkook.

And ever since your sister told you to 'go for it,' you've been weighing her words heavily in your mind. Is she actually wrong? Or are you just stupid and stubborn?

Jungkook haunts your thoughts in the daytime and even at night in your dreams. Is it right to continue on being with him platonically when you're having all these other thoughts?

You're not sure what to do.

Should you really just fuck it all to hell and confess???

College apps are officially finished.

You're finally (half) free from the gates of hell. You and Jungkook decide to celebrate the day by sneaking out of your houses and going for a late-night drive to Yogurtland. Jungkook picks you up in his car, throwing you his spare jacket while laughing when he realizes you're in just a t-shirt and shorts.

"Why aren't you in warmer clothes?" he chastises you and ruffles your hair.

You huff. "You gave me like five minutes to prepare. I only had time to brush my hair, which you just messed up. These are my pajamas."

Jungkook giggles but he hands you the aux cord. "I'll give you a better warning next time. It's your turn to choose the music."

With your other friends, you always sweat bullets when it comes to choosing music, but you're so comfortable around Jungkook that you don't care if he judges your music taste. Lauv's The Other fills the warmth of Jungkook's car as he drives you down the night streets and toward your destination.

"You chose a normal song this time," Jungkook comments, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel and glancing over at you picking at your fingernails.

"Oh, just wait 'til the next song comes one."

Sure enough, you've chosen to play the Shinzou wo Sasageyo, the opening song for Attack on Titan's season two. With the little Japanese that you and Jungkook know, the two of you scream the lyrics and make up new words along the way. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you look over at Jungkook who's absolutely singing his heart out, having the time of his life.

The two of you are in an ecstatic mood when you reach the Yogurtland parking lot.

"So did you tell your parents you're coming here?" Jungkook says as he opens the door for you and a wave of cold air hits your face.

You snort. "No. Told my sister, though. She's covering for me. You?"

"Told them I'm getting gas," he says.

"That's a shit lie!" you giggle. "We're gonna have to make it back quickly, now."

"Or I can just tell them there was traffic."

"At 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night??"

Jungkook just grins. "You know what? We'll stay as long as we want, and I'll deal with the consequences at home."

Time passes by so quickly with Jungkook. The hours you spend with him feel like seconds and the dashing smiles he sends your way make you want to swoon. Sitting in the darkness of his car with your ice cream in your hands, you don't have any idea how much better life can get. It's so intimate like this. You wonder if Jungkook senses the same atmosphere as you do.

Why does it feel like this is a date?

It's the soft blue lights of his Mercedes. The faint smell of lavender lingering in the car. The cold ice cream in your hands and the warmth of your seat. It's the boy sitting right next to you, gazing at you every so often before taking a bite of his frozen yogurt. It's the comfort you feel around him—enough to show up to meet him in your pajamas and no makeup on. It's the trust you put in him to get you back home safely. The obvious fondness the two of you have for each other.

Shit.

You've fallen even harder than before.

Jungmin's in the past now. Memories of him have been buried in the very back of your mind, replaced by recollections and pictures of your new friends and, of course, Jungkook. You'd forgotten Jungmin even existed until big news explodes in your face.

"Did you hear?"

"Holy fuck."

"Jungmin got into Princeton!"

"Bruh, it was early, too. Because of soccer!"

Yejin rolls her eyes. "They're idiots, picking another blithering idiot to join their team."

Five of your friends stare right at you to gauge your reaction, but you shrug. "I don't really give two shits about where he goes to college."

"Nice!" Miru says, smiling kindly as Seokjin slaps your back with a proud grin on his face.

"I just know he won't be going too far in life with that attitude," you say. Your friends all nod in agreement. Well, except one. He's awfully quiet today, actually. But you decide to let it slide for the time being. Maybe Jungkook's having a bad day.

But by the time school ends, everyone knows two things. Son Jungmin got into Princeton and Jeon Jungkook failed to get into Yale.

Jungkook doesn't seem to want to talk about it. When people (rudely) ask, he waves them away with a frown on his face (you've never seen him look so angry and depressed). It doesn't help that people are talking, too. It's Jungkook's worst fear, all coming true. Even when he sees you, his face doesn't relax and he fails to smile. His eyes are wet but he never lets himself spill the tears, opting to look down at his feet the whole day.

You don't understand his pain of losing his chance to go to his dream college, but the least you can do is comfort him.

"Hey..." you say, patting Jungkook's shoulder. He barely glances your way. Shit. It's pretty bad. You've never seen him so unreactive before. "Let's go get some ice cream and hang at your place."

There it is. He looks up, eyes glistening and encompassing all the gratefulness he has to offer. Then, he nods. "I'll drive," he croaks.

Even when he's sad he tries to be considerate. You shake your head. "I'm driving." He doesn't protest after that.

You do your best to drive as smoothly as you can, slowing down at a considerable pace near speed bumps and making round turns to avoid jerking the car. Jungkook follows you into Target, where you pick out four pints of ice creams—all flavors that he loves. You drive back home, meet his mother (who looks just about as depressed as Jungkook is), and drag the poor boy upstairs.

"Sit," you tell him, pointing at his bed before making your way to his mini fridge and pulling out two blue Powerade drinks. "Let's watch something fucking hilarious."

The show for today is Friends, which makes Jungkook's eyes light up but his mouth is always set in a stern line. You lean against him, scooping up ice cream on his plate for him and handing him a spoon.

"I'm okay, you know," he tells you. But the quiver in his voice and his refusal to meet your eyes tells you he's really not.

You pat his leg. "They didn't deserve you, anyways."

Jungkook's eyes flash. He jerks away from you, face flushed and eyebrows lowered dangerously. "Don't you fucking say that!" he yells. "Don't you fucking tell me they didn't deserve me." Tears begin to spill out of his eyes. "You and I both know that's a lie. I didn't get in because I'm not fucking good enough. Even after everything I've done, I'm never enough!"

"Jungkook..." Your voice comes out weaker than you'd imagined. "I-I wasn't lying." You didn't think your words would cause him to lash out like that, but maybe after hearing the same thing for a whole day, he couldn't handle it anymore.

"It's fucking over." He cries, body shaking as he covers his face with his hands. "It's fucking over!"

You don't know what to do. You've never known what to do when people start crying in front of you. Are you supposed to tell them lovely words of affirmation? But what if you say something wrong again? You opt to stay silent, awkwardly patting Jungkook's back.

He instinctively leans in towards you, still sobbing. When you shift to hug him, your head leaning against his shoulder, he cries concerningly louder. You let him cry his feelings out. And when his lament dwindles down to soft hiccups and sniffles, you hold him tighter. He's warm in your arms but his cold tears have also stained your shirt. You don't mind.

"It's not over," you whisper to him. "There are more decisions coming out in a couple of months," you say, rubbing slow circles on his back. "I... I know you wanted to go to Yale, Jungkook... But..." you sigh. "But you said it yourself. Capitalism. College is a business, whatever. Just know that you are good enough. I don't care if the admission officers couldn't see that. I don't even care what the hell you think of yourself. Because sometimes, your perception of yourself is just plain wrong. I... I think you're amazing, Jungkook." You lightly squeeze his arm. "And hey, ten years down the road, none of this will matter. Just look at me and what happened with Jungmin. None of that crap matters to me anymore and it's only been like what? A year?"

Jungkook's sniffles come to a stop and he finally looks up at you. His eyes are red, his nose a little runny and his forehead is covered in beads of sweat. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward and use the soft pad of your thumb to wipe the last of Jungkook's tears off of his cheeks. He stares at you, the tenseness of his body dissipating as he becomes more relaxed in your arms.

Then:

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "I...I sh-shouldn't have... I shouldn't have yelled at you."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I guess this makes us pretty even, then."

Your comment puts the teeniest smile on Jungkook's face. "Yeah, I guess it does." He pauses for a moment. "Come here," he says, taking you in his own arms and letting you rest your head against his chest. "You're the best, you know that?"

You smile. "I know."

Just like you'd predicted in just a few weeks, Jungkook's back to normal again. College apps are still out of the way, which means you can have as much fun as you want—grades aren't that important anymore.

You and Jungkook check off everything on your bucket list and go beyond what you'd imagined. The two of you manage to ditch school in the middle of the week and drive to the beach, wading into the cool waters and building sandcastles from scratch. By sunset, you're walking along the pier with him, side by side. Now this, this seems like an actual date.

His hair has been gently tousled by the wind, his cheeks sunkissed and glowing in the setting sunlight. His lips are soft and shiny, thanks to his (mild) obsession with vanilla chapstick. When he grins at you, you can see the faint dot under his lower lip—the cute little mole that he's actually insecure about (but you find adorable).

You're so close to him that every so often, your bare shoulder brushes against his. If you move your hand just an inch, you'd even be holding hands. But you swallow the lump in your throat and decide against it. That's weird. Why would you randomly reach for his hand? It seems wrong. Forced.

God, you wish you could tell him that you like him. But no, you can't. What if he doesn't like you back? You don't want to risk making things weird before going off to college. But then again, what if he does like you? Perhaps that's even worse. What are you going to do? You barely applied to the same schools and long-distance isn't something you see yourself doing for anyone. Not even Jeon Jungkook.

And as the weeks pass, your decision remains unwavering. Especially when you and Jungkook commit to your colleges.

You've never thought much about UC Berkeley, but the price is friendlier than any private and as an incoming student in the College of Engineering, you're bound to be taken care of. This also means you're staying in California, which makes your sister very happy. She makes you promise that you'll visit every month—and if you can't make the drive, she'll go for you.

Meanwhile, Jungkook commits to Brown. Not quite the same as Yale, but it's an Ivy and his parents are proud. You're happy for him—just as he's happy for you. Yet all of this really means that you'll be going to college on the opposite ends of the country. It was expected, but the reality of it is daunting. Will the two of you really FaceTime every week like you promised each other? Or will your friendship inevitably die out?

But Jungkook is adamant about spending his last few moments of high school with you.

One day, sprawled out on his pool chair, he turns to you, a glistening grin on his face. "Hey. Wanna go to senior prom with me?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Yet the prom Jungkook was thinking of is not the traditional senior prom you've dreamed about; he suggests the two of you go to anti-prom—dressing for the occasion but ultimately skipping the actual dance. It's a spectacular idea.

This time you do end up wearing a pretty yellow dress and coincidentally, Jungkook wears a yellow tie. (The odds of matching serendipitously—again?—maybe you are meant to be.) He drags you everywhere across town. First to a mall for refreshments, then to a fancy steakhouse for dinner. Your other friends are nowhere to be found.

At 10 p.m., the two of you make a night drive up a hill, parking at the very top and admiring the view of your sparkling hometown. It's prettier at night, the neon restaurant signs and warm car headlights mixing together to create wonderful blurs of color. Everything about this feels serene. The soft lights of Jungkook's car, the ambiance of the slow dance music he insisted he turned on, the muted aroma of sugary vanilla and fresh lavender...

You turn to Jungkook, heart beating quickly in your chest—only to find out he's been looking at you all along, dark eyes sparkling a little in the moonlight. Ducking your head down in embarrassment, you manage to calm down your quick breaths, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and avoiding eye contact with the boy sitting next to you.

God.

You'd pay any sum of money to buy enough courage to confess right here and right now. Or you can do it for free—no regrets. You look up at Jungkook, his soft bangs falling over his eyes and obscuring his expression for just half a second before he sweeps his hair away from his face. He smiles, corners of his pink lips rising as he gazes at you.

Your heart is beating so quickly that you can feel the thumps in your head. Are you actually going to do it? Confess to him? Right now?

It's so romantic.

How could he not feel the same way?

Unless...

No.

You're going to do it.

You're going to get this over with.

Fuck it all to hell.

"Jungkook, I—"

He silences you when his hand grazes over yours. The electricity jolts through your intertwined fingertips. Then, he moves—cautiously—to encompass your whole hand in his. His hand is surprisingly cold. A breath of fresh air in the inexplicable fire building up inside of you.

"Your hand is so sweaty," he laughs, squeezing your intertwined hands together.

Your face burns.

"I don't mind," he says.

Your body feels like it's been engulfed in flames.

And there you are, sitting in his warm car like two yellow blooming flowers, reaching out for each other in the darkness. It can't get better than this.

I'm going to tell him, you vow. I have to tell him.

I'll tell him at graduation.

Most students feel giddy during graduation. Others feel nervous—graduating means that they're finally moving on in life, going to college, accomplishing bigger things and leaving the safe nests of their homes. You fall in the latter group; however, for totally different reasons. You're nervous about Jungkook's reaction.

No number of pep talks and self-assurance can change how you feel. You're terrified.

What if he doesn't like you back? What if he thinks you ruined your friendship with him?

Even after you receive your diploma and bouquets of flowers from your sister, you feel queasy inside. And nothing's going to fix that until you finally get the words out.

What's he going to do, anyways? You're going to different colleges on the opposite ends of the country, so if he completely turns you down, you won't be totally humiliated for the rest of your life. Besides, you're not exactly asking him out. You're just going to tell him that you like him. What he does with that information isn't up to you.

You're just trying to get this off your chest.

"Hey!"

Speak of the devil.

Jungkook rushes up towards you, his honorary medals and cords clinking together as he makes his way through the crowds of students and parents and teachers—his eyes only for you.

"Hey," you say, smiling as Jungkook ruffles your hair like he always does. He's holding a large bouquet of daffodils in his hand, and you can't help but notice how well the color yellow suits him.

"College now, huh?" he says, grinning.

"Imagine going to an Ivy," you snort, nudging the boy.

He rolls his eyes. "And you're going to the best UC. But don't let the UCLA brats hear me say that. They'll run me over or something."

You giggle at his joke, hands already clammy for what's to come.

Jungkook plucks a single daffodil from his bouquet, reaching out to hand it to you. You take it with flushing cheeks.

A pause.

Then:

"We better keep in contact." "I like you, Jungkook."

The two of you say at the exact same time.

You want to facepalm. The worst timing ever!

Jungkook's face scrunches in confusion. "Wait, sorry, what did you say?"

Your ears burn. "I like you." Your fingers anxiously tangle around the stem of the daffodil Jungkook had just given you.

He's stunned into silence. Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, body frozen.

You watch him, embarrassment tinging your face. Why isn't he saying anything? Doing anything? Is he so disgusted by the idea of you having feelings for him that he doesn't even want to see you again?

Slowly, you begin to step away from him. Each step you take severs your heart more and more.

"Y/N."

You freeze.

When you look up at his face, you see Jungkook, obviously distressed, running his fingers through his hair and eyebrows deeply furrowed. "You can't do this to me," he says, massaging his forehead.

"I-I can't?"

"Yes!" He throws his hands in the air, eyes wide and chest heaving up and down.

"I-I just had to get it out," you say. "Don't think too much into it. I'm just... Yeah, you probably don't even feel the sa—"

"I do!" he shouts. "Oh my god, Y/N, ever since the Lit project junior year!"

Your face is stricken with horror.

You haven't talked to Jeon Jungkook in four years.

The promise of FaceTiming each other every week doesn't last a single day after graduation. In fact, you've lost all contact ever since the day both of you'd confessed. Maybe it's because you were so angry that you'd missed your chance that you never called or texted. And maybe he thought you were just joking and playing with his feelings. You'll never really know.

You hate to think about it, but he could've been your high school sweetheart. That is, if he had confessed earlier and you hadn't confessed so late. Now here you are in life with a normal job, a chemical engineering degree and a vacant love story.

Sometimes, I wonder what could've happened if I dated him in high school, you scribble across your diary. It's old now, tattering on the edges and heavy from polaroid photos from college and special receipts you've saved over the years. But you love it all the same. Would we be married by now?

That's stupid. A very stupid thought.

No. He probably moved on. Like I should've.

You sigh, signing off your diary entry before closing the notebook.

It's a brisk morning today—people are bustling about the busy street and you feel almost out of place relaxing outdoors at a nice cafe. But today's your off-day. Tomorrow, you'll be back at work, slaving away as most adults do in their mid-twenties.

Your cup of steaming hot coffee sits by your side. It's really there for the aesthetic. Even as an adult, you prefer strawberry Fanta and fountain drinks. Maybe you're still a teenager at heart. You smile, thoughts lazily drifting off as you drum your fingers against the metal table.

"Ahem."

Someone must've caught a cold in this chilly autumn weather.

"Ahem, ahem."

Okay, but seriously? Right behind you?

You turn around, ready to give a scary look to whoever was clearing their throat aggressively behind you when you see him.

It's really him.

Your eyes widen.

God.

He looks good.

That's all you can register in your head. He's grown even taller, his face muscles more defined and baby cheeks gone. The only thing that remains just as you've remembered him is his eyes—soft, wide and sparkling with curiosity.

You slowly rise from your seat.

He grins at you. Stares you right in your eyes and grins. "Hey, old friend."

There are so many things to say. So many unspoken words you've wanted to tell him in the past. So many thoughts left unsaid. So many memories to recall, to relive. But the only word that comes out of you is, "Friend?"

God.

You don't know why you said that.

Jungkook shakes his head. "I'm just joking, Y/N." His grin splits wider. "Coincidence, though, right? After all these years..."

He looks absolutely beautiful.

"I'm... I'm sorry I never contacted you," you sputter out. "You know, after... yeah."

Jungkook smiles. You can see the hint of his mole under his lip. "No hard feelings," he says. "We can tell each other our excuses over dinner."

Dinner? Your eyes widen.

"What do you say I take you on a date?"

Jungkook is your high school sweetheart. Although the two of you began your relationship way past high school, in your mind, it still counts. With earnest hearts and the purest of souls, you and Jungkook embody the beating hearts of young love and the stagnancy of patience.

Legs sprawled across Jungkook's lap, you lean your elbow against the couch and write on the very last page of your diary. It's time to say goodbye to your teenage angst after this. Time to move on with your boyfriend.

"Whatcha writing?" Jungkook asks, trying to look over your shoulder.

You giggle, sitting up with your diary in your hands. "Just something."

"Just something?" Jungkook laughs, tugging you up closer to his chest. "Is it about me?" he asks, kissing the crevice of your neck before attacking you with soft pecks across your cheek.

"Maybe!"

The two of you hold each other close, relishing in the feeling, the presence of each other. Your diary lies open next to you, left nearly forgotten. But there, on the last open page, you've written in big, loopy letters:

And now I know that the best kind of relationships blossoms from the best kind of friendships.

—masterpost

—masterlist

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