Request: fluff: Friend group travelling (wherever inspires you most! I’m thinking someplace like Hawai where they visit secret beaches and stuff! Site-seeing in the city could also be interesting!). Jimin and and OC know eachother through friends. OC is independent and not TOO into the whole adventuring deal but does it to enjoy some quality time with her friends. Jimin is flirty and playful and makes the trip all the more interesting for her. (I don’t know how you want to set it up but maybe two friends are dating and they invite their two seperate friend groups on this trip to meet. Or maybe it’s a wedding and OC is a bridesmaid? Anything works honestly!) - @silviasgotyourback
Description: You’re not too keen on…you know…risk-taking. In fact, it scares you to your core. But when your close friend Kim Namjoon gets in your head, you agree to a crazy trip to Fiji with him and his pals. But what happens when one of those pals – specifically Park Jimin – sweeps you off your feet not only figuratively, but literally?
A/N: Wow what a long break I’ve taken haha! But I’m back (kinda) to post some one shots (slowly)! I’ve been working really hard on my graduate school writing sample and auto statements, and I’ve just started my senior year of college AND started a new job so I’ve been incredibly busy! I apologize nonetheless for my absence. It’s felt horrible being away. Very guilty lol. Anyway, thank you my dear for requesting and for being so so so SO patient with me. I hope you like the result!
Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/nirvana_namu. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances.
- Mercury
You’re not sure why you agreed to this.
Standing at the tippy top of a mountain, looking out over the entire surf as it roils in the golden island sun, you watch your best friend get strapped into a harness with a laugh that echoes through the humid air. His gaze is focused downward, along the slope of treetops leading to the water. A zipline. A really steep, really fast one. One of the longest in the world! Namjoon had proclaimed with no small measure of wonder in his round eyes before you’d boarded the plane side by side only a day prior. If you weren’t so scared, you’d want to paint it.
You really don’t know why you agreed to do any of this.
The vested employee adjusts the straps secured around Namjoon’s hips, tugs them once or twice — not nearly enough by your standards — and mumbles something unintelligible into the receiver of a walkie-talkie. Enveloped in greenery, Namjoon pauses to turn and look at you and, upon snagging your eyes, offers a big, stupid, dimpled grin. He waves one hand over his head at you as you wait to be loaded into the next harness. And it looks like his eyes are squinted against the sun, but really they’re squinted from the sheer force of his joy. A joy too big to be contained in a smile alone.
That’s exactly why, you think to yourself with a grimace as you shamble forward along the worn footpath, second-to-last in line, arms crossed over your torso as if they can protect you from whatever fresh hell Namjoon’s planned out.
The employee pats Namjoon’s bare shoulder before releasing him and sending him speeding down the swaying cable with a scream so loud it pierces your ears. His body falls out of sight for a frozen millisecond before the cable gives a mighty bounce and his head reappears, bobbing up and down as he slides toward the bottom. You wince, more out of fear than discomfort, and pause to peek over the edge of the loading platform, following the line of the cable all the way to the bottom. Your heart races as your eyes trace the dense tree line, seemingly endless, and the sheer drop that had claimed Namjoon just seconds before.
And that’s when, as you sweep your twitching gaze out behind you, you lock eyes with Park Jimin. Standing behind you, the very last of the group to depart down the cliffside, his lips are quirked into a smirk that reads cocky and his brows are raised, unyielding eyes stuck on you like tree sap. Of all people to be stuck with on the top of a mountain…
Your face goes hot and your spine stiffens by a few degrees. You stare back at him, trying to discern any measure of fear in his smiling expression, his half-exposed teeth, his rosy cheeks, his teasing brown eyes. But instead all you see is, as usual, a perfect facade of composure.
Well, that and a sinfully handsome face.
He saunters up beside you, scans you from head to toe, and hums a little. “Nervous?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.
You clear your throat, fan yourself with your hand as a futile defense against the jungle heat, and nod your head once. “Mm.”
Upon hearing your response, Jimin’s demeanor shifts a little. He uncrosses his arms and his smirk slips, brows raising. He leans closer to examine your face and you avert your gaze, heart hammering. “Whoa, you’re actually spooked, huh,” he remarks before glancing around the platform. “Shit, I don’t think the guide’s gonna let you turn back now.”
You’d expected him to make fun of you, perhaps laugh at your weak constitution. But this…
This is new.
Though well-meaning, Jimin’s words serve only to set your palms sweating and your heart racing faster. Your throat feels a little funny, tight like asthma. You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I-It’s fine,” you mumble, sliding past him as the employee beckons you forward with a lazy wave. “I’ll just…do it.”
Jimin hangs close behind you as the employee begins strapping you in, not sparing even a single word for you. “Hey, uh, my friend’s a little nervous,” Jimin says lowly to the young man working on hooking the harness around your hip. He glances up to meet your eyes before looking toward Jimin. “Any way you can, like, go gentle or something?” Jimin offers a convincing smile, the kind of grin that could get anyone to do anything.
The employee surprises you by releasing a puffy laugh and straightening to his full height, pausing to pat the dust off the backs of his legs. He chuckles and pats your back. “I can’t control the cable,” he says, then pauses for a moment to think. “But…,” he continues as Jimin turns pleading eyes his way, “if you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.”
You swallow hard and inhale sharply through your nose. “Alright,” you say, but his words have fled from your brain as soon as they’d been uttered. Your voice is shaky. Almost as shaky as your hands as you raise them to grip the straps of your harness.
Have you always had such a strong grip?
Your brain goes a little fuzzy, looking out over the precipice on which you stand, unsteady feet and rushing pulse. It’s dizzying. Like the world is spinning, but you’re not spinning with it. Or perhaps you’re spinning and it’s the world that’s gone still. Either way, the stretch of trees extending far beyond the tips of your hiking boots looks like it’s swaying on an axis, and each blink tilts the view some different way. You wonder if you’re breathing enough, or maybe too much, because your head is spinning. Like when you stand up too quickly after sitting for a while. You wonder if you’ll pass out before you reach the bottom.
If you reach the bottom.
Jesus, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of this stupid cable snapping. It doesn’t look too stable, upon closer inspection. Bouncing in the breeze. And as the employee finishes strapping you in, you pause for a moment to move your legs about and find, to your horror, that the straps are slightly loose.
Oh God.
You’re gonna throw up.
“Hey,” says a soft voice from beside you.
You feel a warm hand slide along the skin of your upper back, resting to cup your shoulder. Slowly, you turn your toward Jimin, standing with one arm wrapped around you and the other braced on his own knee so he can level his eyes with yours. He’s smiling a little. A different one this time, a soft one. The wind blows his dark hair from his eyes and carries the scent of his cologne. Somehow, you feel yourself relax a little against his side.
“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” he asks gently, and this is an entirely new Park Jimin to you. A tender young man with kind eyes. He smiles again and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m right behind you.”
And for some reason, that comforts you. You don’t have time to dissect it however, as the employee takes up your other side and raises his brows, asking silently if you’re ready to go. Of course, you aren’t. How can you be? But again, Jimin squeezes your shoulder and seizes your attention with another smile, this one turning his eyes to crescents as he nods his head.
“Um…yeah,” you say, taking a moment to focus on your breath.
“Remember,” says Jimin as he steps away from you. “Count to ten, okay?”
“Okay,” you say, shutting your eyes.
One.
You’re gonna do it.
Two.
On ten, you’re just gonna go.
Three.
It’ll be fine.
Four.
Joon did it, and he’s fine.
Five.
And Tae before him, and that guy Jimin brought.
Six.
Nobody’s died yet.
Seven.
You can do it too.
Eight.
And even if I’m scared, at least you’re not alone up here.
Nine.
Jimin’s right behind you.
Ten.
Your scream rips through the valley below.
And, seconds later, so does your unfettered laughter.
You met Park Jimin on the worst day of your life a month ago. Freshly laid off from your job as a financial analyst — a job which Namjoon disliked from the start —, and disappointed by a string of bad dates after a catastrophic breakup, you’d agreed to meet up with a few college friends for a drink at your local stomping ground. You’d found Jimin sitting in the middle of a smoky bar with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other. Gross, was all you’d thought in passing. You’d paid him little mind, too busy wallowing in your own self pity to think too hard about any one thing, but it seemed he was incessant on grabbing your attention by any means necessary.
You’d sidled up to the bar, awaiting Namjoon’s I’m here text, and had only just ordered your drink when the strange young man with the unusually bright smile took up the space beside you. Now alone, he offered you a grin and his hand for you to shake. For a few seconds, you only stared at his outstretched palm. At the lines cutting across it. What was that long line called? The life line?
Eventually, however, you realized he wasn’t going anywhere, planted firmly in the wobbly barstool to your right, and you relented with a handshake. But that wasn’t what this stranger was after. He yanked you just a little once your hands connected.
“Hey, honey!” he said as he pulled you in toward his chest, sweeping you up in a tight, firm hug that knocked the wind from your lungs.
You were neither playful enough nor drunk enough to reciprocate and instead sat there stiffly, arms pressed against your sides as the stranger with the cute face hugged you close. Over his shoulder, you locked eyes with the girl who’d previously ornamented his left arm, watching you keenly, and it didn’t take you long to understand what was going on.
“Dodging an ex?” you whispered without moving your lips too much.
You felt a wave of shivers trace up your spine and it only took you a few seconds to realize why. It was just the sort of thing you imagined Hanseul doing if he ever bumped into you…
He chuckled. “Two, actually,” he responded as the young man he’d been entertaining also lifted his eyes from his drink to give you a once-over.
You sighed. “You’d better be buying my drink,” was all you said as the two of you broke away.
He’d laughed — that melodic sort of laugh that made you feel a little floaty — and rubbed your shoulder with a grin. “I’ll buy you twenty,” he joked, sliding the bartender a bill as he returned with your cocktail.
“So how’d you manage to get caught up with two exes at once?” you asked, nursing your glass.
He rubbed his jaw and shook his head, smiling at the bar table before him. “They were friends to begin with,” he said. And when you said nothing, only recoiled slightly, he met your eyes with a bright laugh. “C’mon don’t give me that look!”
You cleared your throat, turned away, and worked your straw between your teeth. “I dunno, sounds like maybe you brought it on yourself then,” you said, taking a healthy sip.
The stranger laughed again — more like a disbelieving scoff — and adjusted one of the several rings on his slender fingers. “Well I didn’t ask the two of them to come out tonight,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, neither of them looked unhappy to see me.”
“Ugh,” you mumbled, eyeing him sidelong as he chuckled.
He smirked and leaned across the bar toward you. “What?” he asked, and something about the heavy-lidded look he gave you, the simmering something in his eyes, made your pulse quicken. He rested his cheek in his hand and cocked his head to the side, now close enough to smell a whiff of his cologne. “You think I’m a bad guy?”
You swallowed hard before downing the rest of your drink and slamming the glass back on the bar. You waved the bartender over and pointed to the empty glass. Wordlessly, he began fixing you a replacement. You peeked back at the guy to find him smiling at you, musing perhaps, with the strangest mix of curiosity and pity in his expression.
You were definitely going to need another drink.
“Do good guys usually do stuff like that?” you asked, watching the bartender as he shook your drink around his metal tumbler.
He chuckled. “Can goodness be quantified by things like who we date?” he asked.
You stiffened. “Not by who you date,” you continued, shaking your head as memories of your own ex resurfaced. “But who you hurt, sure.”
He rolled his eyes, swiveling in his barstool to look at you head on. “Why’s it my fault who gets hurt?” he asked.
You cocked a brow. “You…can’t be serious…” But from the expression he wore you were certain that he was indeed quite serious.
He shrugged. “It’s not my intention to hurt someone, so why do I have to take responsibility if they get hurt?” he asked, then smirked and gave your thigh a nudge with his knee. “The way I see it, if you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.”
“That’s gross,” you said, inching away. You were inclined to simply leave, abandon this conversation and the bar at large and call it a night. But the bartender wasn’t finished with your drink and you weren’t about to piss him off. Not on a day like today. “If you’re dating someone, you’re committing to them.”
“What about polyamorous people?” he countered with a smug grin.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not talking about polyamorous people. I’m talking about monogamy.”
“But why does everyone expect monogamy?” asked Jimin, tossing his hands up in the air with a breathy laugh. “Anyway, I always make it clear from the start that I’m not the kind of person who wants to be…well, you know…,” he started, then furrowed his brow and waved his hand. “Like, in a relationship.”
You sighed, nodded your thanks to the bartender as he slid you your drink, and watched as Jimin again offered cash in return. “And that’s fine, but you can’t expect someone to stick around and be okay with that.” You rubbed your temples as memories swirled together. “Be okay with half of you.”
If you really loved me, you’d understand that I could have any person in the world and you’d still be my number one!
Scumbag.
This gave him pause and, slowly, he shifted his eyes your way once more, scanning you. “Half of me?”
You nodded and downed a gulp of your drink with a wince. “Giving half is fine if the other person is giving half too. If you both only expect half,” you began, then ran your hands along your neck. Your skin was feverish, alcohol making your head light. “But if one person wants more, it’s not fair to string them along.”
He stared at you gravely, eyes hard and jaw set, and furrowed his brow. “That’s too old-school,” he said.
You huffed and crossed your arms. “It’s not old-school!” you said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s about respecting the other person enough to let them go when you realize you can’t be what they need.”
He pouted a little and rolled his eyes. “You sound ancient,” he said, then paused to give you a knowing smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he began, scooting closer with a conspiratorial look. “You were scorned by your ex. Like…I dunno, like they cheated or something. Broke your heart, ruined your trust, blah, blah, blah. And now you’ve got this vendetta or something because you got hurt.” He grinned and wiggled his brows.
You stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at him. “I…,” you began.
He laughed from his gut and nodded. “Ah, nailed it, didn’t I?” he asked.
There was a cruel edge to his teasing, an ill-intentioned bite that felt like it was made to injure. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you knew you felt it in that hazy bar, surrounded by throngs of people gathered here and there, enveloped in smoke and conversation. But like a heat-seeking missile, it seemed his words were engineered to uncover the softest parts of you and destroy them.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but your eyes welled with tears and your throat constricted. You stared at him, this stranger who had pegged you without err, and felt the weight of your frustrations pressing down on the tops of your shoulders like sandbags. And as he perceived the shift in your expression, his own face changed from a cold sort of scrutiny to a round-eyed concern that washed away all evidence of his previous behavior.
“Oh shit,” he said, standing up and blocking your face from view. You felt a few hot tears spilling over and were quick to wipe them, but the humiliation was there on display whether you cried or not.
He’d gotten you.
Luckily for you, Namjoon’s timing had been particularly impeccable that day and he’d barreled into the bar with a lopsided grin and clapped both you and the stranger on the backs, Taehyung and Yoongi sauntering behind him. You’d startled a bit, jumping slightly at his approach, but once again luckily — or perhaps unluckily — Namjoon seemed to have little regard for the poor mood he’d stepped into and didn’t seem to notice your glassy eyes as you buried your nose in your drink.
“Well jeez, look at you two already getting acquainted!” Namjoon exclaimed with a big laugh.
You paused your sipping for a moment to slide only your eyes up toward your friend. “Huh?”
He blinked down at you, one hand still clamped onto the stranger’s shoulder, and raised his brows. “Didn’t I tell you I was inviting some work friends?”
You spat your drink, sending droplets of sweet alcohol splattering across the bar. Quick to right yourself, you faced Namjoon properly and, sputtering, replied, “Him?”
Namjoon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t introduce yourselves,” he said, adding theatrics to his heavy sigh. “This is Park Jimin. That choreographer I’ve been telling you about? He’s coming with us to Fiji.”
Still coughing up the remains of your rum and Coke, you pat your chest. This was the kind-hearted dance major wunderkind who dazzled everyone at Namjoon’s entertainment company? This was the kid who, at the age of twenty-four, had more accolades than both his predecessors combined? This was the guy who befriended all the trainees and brought them sports drinks during long days of practice?
This was the guy you were going to spend two weeks with on an island in the middle of the Pacific?
Namjoon, standing between the two of you, moved to taste your drink and as he leaned forward you locked eyes with the acclaimed young choreographer over the plane of his back. Park Jimin stared at you with wide eyes and lips parted as if to speak. But even after Namjoon had straightened up and begun complaining about your drink order, Park Jimin, still with mouth agape, said nothing.
And so, as you go ripping through the jungle on a wobbling cable, screaming and laughing and crying just a little, you wonder how exactly that very same Park Jimin is the one who comforted you into taking this leap of faith. Below your dangling feet is a patchwork of different greens, all bleeding into a motion blur as your body is propelled down toward the bottom platform. As you slide along, you can just see Namjoon’s figure, reduced to a small silhouette amongst the trees, as he stands waving like mad at the edge of the platform. Laughing, you shoot both hands above your head and wave them around, causing you to sway on the cable. Startled, you quickly return your hands to gripping the straps near your chest.
You feel like a bullet whizzing through humid air and then, all at once, friction takes hold once more and you seize, eyes squeezing shut from the whiplash, head throbbing just a little, suspended over the platform. You are greeted by a chorus of applause and hollers of encouragement as the employee begins the process of disconnecting you from your harness and, as your feet land stiffly on the concrete slab, you lift wild eyes to meet Namjoon’s. You find him still with that grin plastered across his face, hair windswept, shirt askew.
“Wow!” is all you can say as the group laughs.
Namjoon smiles and claps your shoulder. “Right?” he asks and you can only nod and turn your eyes back up toward the cliff from which you’d descended.
Now far too distant to discern amongst the foliage, the loading platform sits somewhere lost in green. And, without meaning to, your mind wanders back to Park Jimin and you wonder idly if he’s counting to ten.
Sunset drenches the island as you lounge on the warm sand, leaning back on your elbows with eyes half-shut as you gaze out at the glittering ocean touching the horizon line. The sky is darkening by degrees, with vibrant reds and oranges spreading like watercolor into the navy blue edges. And for a blissful moment, you’re alone with it. Alone with the profound. And you’re not thinking about the new job you’d taken, or the text messages Hanseul left you this morning, or the bills you know you’ve got to pay soon. You’re not thinking about anything.
It’s beautiful.
Of course, it’d be more beautiful with a pina colada, but you don’t let your mind linger there too long. After all, Namjoon said this trip was supposed to be about adventure and ‘finding yourself’. You aren’t sure how much of yourself you can really find at the bottom of a fruity drink.
Namjoon invited you on this trip a year ago. He’d done it in typical Namjoon fashion: calling you up at two in the morning and rambling incoherently for a while before eventually getting to the point. You’d become so used to his pipe dreams that you’d half expected this plan to fall through like the others. The second the words left his lips, you’d rolled your eyes.
“What I’m saying is,” he began, breathless over the phone, as you push yourself up onto your bottom, bed sinking beneath you, “let’s go to Fiji.”
“Joon…,” you groaned. “Please, I have work tomorrow-,”
“Listen, fuck your job,” he said and you could practically see him waving his hands like a man gone mad. “This is important. Like…might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together, you know?”
“Where is this even coming from?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You glanced out your window and saw the city painted black, pinpricks of yellow office building lights.
He sighed. “I was looking up tropical music for this new song I’m working on for the trainees and I stumbled upon this incredible video about Fiji.”
“Like a generic white girl vlog?” you asked with a laugh, but Namjoon seemed deathly serious as he remained silent. You paused a moment. “Wait, you’re like…for real with this, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.” He was quiet. “I just…I dunno…I guess, while we’re still young enough to do it, I wanna experience something incredible. While we still can. While things are still like this.”
“What do you mean?” You raised a hand to open your window, let in some cool night air, but as you jammed your hand along the pane, the thing only rattled dumbly in response. You huffed, focused.
“I mean life is transient and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “Who knows who we’ll be tomorrow, you know? Who knows how long these moments will last?”
You stilled for a moment, staring out your closed window, hand still poised to force it open. You glanced over your shoulder at your tiny apartment — clothes strewn over every piece of furniture, easel gathering dust in the corner of your living room, unused for the better part of a year, paintings still unhung propped against walls on the floor — and couldn’t help but sigh. As silver moonlight filtered in through your curtains, you felt an unfamiliar tug in your chest. A longing that didn’t make sense.
You had the job, the boyfriend, the social life…
You had it all.
But why did Namjoon’s words make you feel so hollow?
And before you even realized what you were doing, you replied, “How much is it gonna cost?”
“What’re you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from beside you.
Startled, you scramble slightly, sending a spray of sand flying through the air. You sputter a little, having inhaled too quickly for your lungs to handle, and squint against the golden sun. But as you settle enough to face the person beside you, you’re surprised to see it’s Jimin. Sunset drenches the expanse of shoreline, catches in the ends of his black hair, outlines the side of his rosy cheek as he gives you an easy smile.
You raise your brows. “Hm?”
He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck, and shrugs as he digs the heels of his hands into the sand, leans back on them. “Just…looked pensive.”
“Pensive…,” you repeat, mulling it over. You purse your lips. “I guess just…thinking about this trip.”
“What about it?”
“Just…why I even bothered coming,” you begin, then chuckled and eyed him sidelong. “You saw how I was today. The whole…adventure thing isn’t really my scene.”
He smiles, revealing on closer inspection one charming crooked tooth, and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? You looked like you were having the time of your life!” he says, nudging you with his elbow.
You smile at your knees, now pulled toward your chest, and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, but you know I was a mess.”
He pouts a little. “You weren’t.”
Glancing his way, you find him with furrowed brows staring distantly at the ocean. “Mm…,” you mumble in response.
He sighs. “You were scared,” he begins, then shrugs. “But you did it anyway. What’s so bad about that?”
You sense that he’s perhaps talking about something else while talking about you. Like he’s saying two things at once. But you don’t bother prying. Instead, you simply sigh and join him staring at the surf.
“It’s beautiful, huh?” you remark as the two of you sit side by side. And there’s a gentle sort of quiet between you, one you never expected to share with someone like Jimin.
But somehow, here he is. And looking at him as he watches the waves splash forward and recede, you can’t help but feel a little guilty for your attitude towards him. Guilty for the dread you’d felt as you boarded the plane behind him. Guilty for the scowl you’d worn as he walked beside you on the trail up to the zipline today. Guilty for the complaints you’d aired to Namjoon about him.
“Yeah,” he says with a pleasant, lazy smile.
Birdsongs welcome you to the fresh island morning. Lazily, you roll onto your side and peel your eyes open, straining against the sunlight pouring in through your ocean-facing windows. You yawn, pushing yourself up onto your bottom to stretch sore arms above your head. You twist your torso this way and that, crack your knuckles, point your toes as you extend your legs before you. The room is filled with bright morning light, all hardwood floors and tapestries on the walls. You glance around your bedroom – one of eight private rooms in this massive Airbnb – and realize with a start that this is the first morning in years that you haven’t immediately grabbed for your phone to check for work emails.
You expect, perhaps, to be unnerved by this. This lack of structure, lack of organization.
But, perhaps more unsettlingly, you are…
Surprisingly calm.
You shake your head and pad on bare feet into the bathroom beside your room. As you brush your teeth, you lock sleepy eyes with your reflection and can’t help but crack a little smile. For the first time in a long time, you look like you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.
You emerge in the living room a few moments later to find Taehyung – Namjoon’s stylist friend – and Seokjin – Namjoon’s actor friend – still sleeping on the couch, the TV still droning on as they’d likely forgotten to turn it off. And, standing in the kitchen by himself nursing a cup of coffee and a calm smile, is Namjoon. He’s caught a bit of a tan, glowing in the gentle sunlight, and his eyes are warm and fond as he looks out across the living room at his friends.
As quietly as you can manage, you maneuver around the sleeping boys and take a place beside Namjoon, resting a hip against the marble counter. “Morning,” he says softly.
You nod once. “Morning,” you repeat, and hold your hand out for his mug of coffee, wiggling your eager fingers. He chuckles and relents without much fight, offering the handle to you carefully. You take a warm, welcome sip and sigh. “How’d you sleep?” you ask.
He hums a little and adjusts the sleeve of his loose tee. “So tired I didn’t even dream,” he says with a laugh.
Smiling you reply, “Me either.”
He eyes you with a knowing smile and squints a little. Like he’s teasing you. “You like it here, don’t you?” he asks.
You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a healthy shove. He laughs in response, but says nothing more as you sweep your gaze out toward the wall of windows leading down to the beach. It’s immaculate in the morning time. Not a single silhouette dots the shoreline, only fishing boats just beyond the surf. Tourists are still asleep, you reckon, and you feel a little proud to not be one of them sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the day. You can see faint traces of clouds ringing the horizon, and the pastel yellows of sunrise giving way to the azure blue sky.
“It’s…really nice,” you admit with a nod, sipping the coffee once more. And, without meaning to, you think of Jimin yesterday. His hand on your shoulder, his comforting words reminding you to ground yourself before you floated away. “Yeah…,” you add, concealing an unintended smile.
Namjoon, however, has always been the smarter one out of the two of you and, predictably, he catches this shift in your expression and turns to you head on with raised brows. “Whoa!” he remarks with a grin. He points to your face with his index finger. “Look at that!”
You swat his hand away with a laugh and roll your eyes. “Lay off, alright? I’m having a good time. Isn’t that the whole point?”
He chuckles and sighs as he rests once more beside you. Gently, he lifts a hand to softly pat the top of your head. You’re certain your shock registers plainly on your face as he pats again. “I’m proud of you,” he says.
And in the simplest of phrases, he’s managed to pluck something profound from inside of you. You don’t need to ask to know precisely what he means.
Why does it make you want to cry?
“Morning,” says a quiet voice from behind Namjoon and, leaning slightly so you can see around your friend’s broad chest, you notice Jimin standing there and can’t help but smile.
He glances between Namjoon and you for a few seconds, brows lifted as if in question, before Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly excuses himself, snatching his coffee on his way back into the living room where he begins rallying the boys awake.
You sigh, running a finger along the countertop’s perfect edge. “What’s on the agenda for today?” asks Jimin as he settles beside you.
You pause to think. “Um…,” you begin, tapping your lips with your fingers. “I think…,” you continue, musing as you begin to work your lower lip between your index finger and thumb. “Something about ATVs.”
But before you’ve even finished your sentence, Jimin has seized your hand in his and is now standing so close you can smell the scent of his detergent wafting up from his pajama shirt. He stares down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smirk, gaze flashing around your face before landing on your lips as he pulls both your hands down toward your shoulder. Your heart begins to race, eyes wide, skin hot where his fingers touch yours, and you swallow hard as he chuckles a few times, his breath fanning out across your warm face.
“Sorry,” he says, voice low and breathy. “It was distracting.” He then drops your hand and swivels on his heel, back toward the hallway from which he’d come. He pauses, however, to shoot you a wink over his shoulder. “Hard to focus when you do that,” he says, tapping his own plump lower lip with his fingertip before offering a wave and meandering down the hall.
And you stand there dumb, heart pounding so loud you can’t hear the crashing waves just outside the window.
You were shocked when you found out Hanseul had been messing around behind your back. Gutted, really. If it hadn’t been for Hanseul leaving his Instagram logged on to your phone, you’d probably never have found out to begin with. He’d always been that sort of guy, though.
Reckless.
And how very cliche, you’d thought as you read through months of exchanged messages, that he’d exchanged you like a used car for a newer model once he’d gotten tired of you. You dragged your finger almost lazily across the screen, brows raised as you rested on your couch, reruns of The Office blending into background noise. And where perhaps you’d expected hurt and resentment, you found only a grim acceptance.
Of course, you thought to yourself with a strange chuckle as you read the most recent message. A sappy sort of love IM that made your stomach churn. Riddled with sentimentality and grand platitudes, the messages reminded you of the ones you’d exchanged with Hanseul in the beginning. The ones that made you hopeful. Of course.
Somewhere amongst that grim acceptance, however, was something you didn’t expect. Something primal. A sort of fear that had no name.
Fear, perhaps, of the implications.
Fear of all the things that would have to change, all the comforts you’d known for years chipping away like old paint left on the wall too long.
And so, like a house of cards, your world shook and crumbled mightily down to its very foundation.
You’re slack-jawed as you stare at the row of ATVs standing equidistant before you. Eight identical machines pointed down the rolling hills behind you. An instructor standing with a grin and hands on her hips as she watches you scan the locomotives with your eyes wide and round. Beside you is Namjoon, smiling too broadly for his face to accommodate, with Seokjin and Taehyung drowsily fighting yawns. Jimin stands on your other side, arms crossed as he smirks at the ATVs like he’s done it all and seen it all before. His friend Jungkook is practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hoseok – another choreographer from the company – stands whispering in low tones with Yoongi, the young PD Namjoon never stops talking about.
The imposing green trees sway in the breeze around you: all potential threats as your group nears the line of ATVs. You wonder just how long you can manage on one of the things before hitting one of those tall waving trees. Anxiously, you glance over your shoulder at the hills extending as far as you can see. More possibilities for horrific injury.
As you tromp through the yielding sand underfoot, you feel someone step closer to you and you don’t need to lift your eyes from your boots to know who it is.
“You know, if you’re scared-,” Namjoon begins, but you silence him with a look, gaze severe.
He raises his hands in surrender before chuckling and patting your shoulder. He says nothing more as he swerves around you to hook his elbow around Taehyung’s neck. The two, laughing, continue toward the row of ATVs. Taking a moment to manage your breath, you press your palm against the rubber handle. You shut your eyes.
One.
You’re getting on this fucking ATV.
Two.
You’ve come this far, you can’t chicken out now.
Three.
You always chicken out.
Four.
When was the last time you did something that scared you this much?
Five.
Well…yesterday.
Six.
Before that though.
Seven.
When was the last time you took a risk?
Eight.
When was the last time you did something you wanted to do?
Nine.
Something you really wanted…
Ten.
You take a long inhale, nod once, and swing your leg over the side of the ATV. With both shaking hands gripping the handlebars, you glance to the side to see everyone else has mounted their vehicles, except for one. Jimin stands at the end of the line, talking with the guide too quietly to hear, but the way he’s waving his hands makes it seem like there’s a problem. The guide glances around, brows knit, before shrugging his shoulders and cupping a hand around the side of his mouth to shout.
“Hey guys! Looks like we’re one ATV short! Someone’s gonna have to share!” he calls, and grumbles resound around the group.
Beside you, Namjoon and Taehyung complain about having to share, both clearly not too keen on offering Jimin a spot on their ATV. You briefly feel bad for him, standing on the edge without a place to go to. You wonder if he feels left out, or if perhaps he’s considering staying back so the guide can show you the way. Without meaning to, you turn your head and lock eyes with Jimin and the instant you to you wish you hadn’t. Because now his eyes have lit up and his face is splitting in a small, hopeful smile.
And you know you’re cooked.
With a sigh, you raise your hand and wave it like mad, beckoning Jimin over. After all that, the breathing exercises and everything, after finding your courage, here you are handing over the reins.
“You can ride with me,” you say with a sigh as Jimin emerges at your side, smiling bright.
“Thank you,” he says with a laugh before hoisting himself up behind you.
“Oh!” you exclaim as Jimin rests his hands on his knees, right beside your thighs. He leans around your side and eyes you with wide brows. “I figured you’d wanna drive…,” you say, face going hot.
He blinks at you for a moment longer than normal before splitting into a grin and nudging your hip with his knee. “Well why would I do that?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “You looked really determined.”
Just like that, he understands exactly how you feel.
Startled, you turn to face him halfway, twisting your torso awkwardly as you lock eyes. He’s still smiling, still bright. The apples of his cheeks are redder than yesterday, and the bridge of his nose. A sunburn. He looks peaceful. As if he trusts you to drive this massive machine. As if it’s not even a thought that’s crossed his mind.
As if he never even considered taking this ATV from you.
“You guys ready?” shouts the guide with a hoot.
The boys around you holler their responses but you stay silent, still just staring at Jimin as he shields his face from the sun with one hand, still smiling, still peaceful.
You grip the handlebars and kick the ATV to life.
You first met Namjoon when you were in high school. He was a grade above you, so you’d never had reason to speak with him. Aside from passing him in the halls every now and again, you didn’t really interact with him at all. But things changed when he approached you after class as you finished cleaning off the blackboards. You’d stayed behind not because you wanted to, but because your classmate had pawned their classroom duties on you after a miserable game of Gin Rummy at lunch. You hadn’t protested much once the responsibility had fallen on your shoulders.
Another excuse to avoid going home.
Bony knuckles rapped against the blackboard beside your head and you jumped out of your skin, releasing a scream several octaves higher than you anticipated. But as the moment of panic passed, you realized with a start that the one who’d roused your attention was indeed upperclassman Kim Namjoon. And there he stood with a small dimpled smile and gentle eyes scanning you. You weren’t sure what he was looking for when he looked at you, but the way he tilted his head to the side made you think that perhaps he’d found it.
“Hey,” he said, face outlined by the last golden rays of autumn daylight.
You swallowed hard and took half a step back toward the podium. “Uh…hi…?”
“This yours?” he asked, dangling a sketchbook before you with one hand.
It took you several moments of squinting at the Strathmore sketchbook to realize that, in fact, it was yours. Your name was right there in the right corner where you’d scribbled it a month ago. And there was the tear in the cover from when your mother had tried to rip the thing from your hands – unsuccessfully.
A rush of fear swelled through you and you snatched the pad from his outstretched hands like you were a prisoner and he was offering you food. Scared he’d rescind his offer if given even a moment to think it over. And as you clutched the thing to your chest, you scanned him with narrowed eyes.
“Where did you get this?” you asked. You were certain you had kept it safely in your bookbag since lunch. But glancing at the bookbag again, you found it surprisingly empty.
Namjoon raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, then chuckled with a shrug. “What kind of thief would return the thing they stole anyway?”
You paused for a moment, brows furrowed, before sighing and nodding. “I guess that’s true,” you admitted before gently guiding the sketchbook back into the mouth of your backpack. “Um…,” you hedged as you turned back to the guy. You held out your hand to him and he rolled up the long sleeve of his uniform cardigan to take it in his own. “Thanks,” you finished with a shake.
He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, laughing a little. “Had to ask around to find out which class you were in though.”
You felt a warm bloom of embarrassment and pulled your hand away, shoving it back into your pocket and averting your eyes. “I don’t have a job or anything,” you said.
He blinked at you. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”
You rubbed the side of your arm and shrugged. “My family’s kinda poor too. Like, we do fine, but my parents are really serious about money so…,”
“What’s your point?” asked Namjoon with wide, curious brown eyes.
You stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before continuing. “Aren’t you gonna ask for, like, reward money or something?”
He released a booming, chesty laugh before waving his arms like mad and shaking his head. “No! God, do I look like a thug to you?”
You eyed him from top to bottom and shrugged. “I don’t really know what a thug is supposed to look like.”
He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Forget the money,” he said, pausing to give you a warm smile. “I just wanted to meet the person who made those drawings.”
You went stiffer than a board. For a moment, time stood still. Namjoon froze before you, the gently falling leaves outside the classroom window froze, and you froze too. Like your feet were rooted to the ground.
“You…did you look through it?” you asked softly, too horrified to raise your voice above a bare whisper.
He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was looking for a phone number or something on the inside flap, but then I got distracted by the art.”
“You…”
“You’re really talented,” he said, offering another big smile. “Like, you could go pro if you wanted to.”
You swallowed hard, your throat constricting, and chucked the dirty blackboard eraser on the podium with a puff of fine dust. Without another word, you zipped up your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You walked past him quickly, not even sparing him a glance, and walked faster when he followed you, calling after you and begging you to turn around.
Namjoon followed you around for a month after that: waiting outside your classroom after school, catching you off guard as you sketched in the courtyard during your lunch break, walking his bike behind you as you led the way to the bus stop, cheering for you at the sports festival and causing you to miss the volleyball coming straight for you. Every time he’d come around, you’d turn grey with horror and you wouldn’t say a word. But luckily for you, Namjoon said plenty enough for both of you. It was always, When are you gonna join the drawing club?or,You should start working on a portfolio, or, If you love art so much, why aren’t you applying to an arts college?
You didn’t bother asking how he knew where you were applying. As you’d gotten to know him, you’d begun to understand his uncanny ability to secure sensitive information from teachers. It seemed they all loved him about as much as you despised him. Not long after that comment, you finally began responding when he spoke to you. And you even began bickering like real friends.
After a while, you grew accustomed to him being around all the time. To the point that, when he graduated a year before you and went on to pursue a degree in music, you’d felt almost lonesome without him. And to the point that, when you texted him about your choice to pursue a degree in business, you were almost relieved when he caught the late bus out to your house to scold you.
One day you’re gonna snap, he’d said that night in a moment of calm. You’re gonna finally have enough of living for them. And it’s gonna hurt when it happens. Bad.
But the scolding had never been enough.
Because, in the end, that persistent fear ran like still waters through your body.
You’re realizing more and more that it’s the same fear. That it’s always been the same fear. Back then when you were so scared of losing Hanseul that you considered not even telling him you’d found the messages. In high school when you were too scared to show anyone your sketchbook. Even now, as you straddle the vibrating ATV, Jimin’s arms wrapped lazily around your middle as he giggles behind you, you’re scared to make a single sound for fear of messing up your focus on the hills before you.
If you really think about it, it’s all the same.
When you boil it down to its core, it’s always been the same.
Fear of fucking up.
Like you’ve been walking a tightrope from the start, and any small misstep will result in you plummeting, face first, into the ground below.
Your knuckles go white against your skin as you clutch the handlebars. Stiff, you follow the guide as he vaults over a hill, having no choice but to do the same. You launch your ATV over the sandy bump, sending both you and Jimin flying through the air. And even though a part of you expects to go splat in the dirt, after a few weightless seconds of flight, the two of you return to earth in one piece. This time, it isn’t Jimin’s laughter that startles you.
It’s your own.
“Holy shit!” Namjoon shouts as he runs toward you, face covered in fine dust. He grins at you like you’re his child, and as you slide off the side of the ATV, he sweeps you up in a big hug, laughing. “You did so good!”
You laugh too, patting his flexed bicep, and lean away slightly to get a better look at his dirty face. “God,” you say with a laugh, running the pad of your fingertip along his cheek, leaving behind a stripe of clean skin. “You need a shower, Joon.”
He nods and peels himself away, turning his attention to Jimin behind you. “You don’t look so good,” he remarks with raised brows.
And as you turn to see for yourself, you notice that in fact Jimin doesn’t look so good. Up until then it had been all laughter and smiles and playful squeezes, but now that he was standing in the dirt, arms crossed, leaning back against the ATV with his helmet in his hand, he looked…less than pleased. He watches you and Namjoon with narrowed eyes.
Oh God, you think in a moment of blind panic, I bet he wanted to drive the ATV after all…
But the moment Namjoon approaches and claps his hand against Jimin’s shoulder, the latter perks up and his eyes go bright once more. He turns a grin towards you and offers a big thumbs up. The sky above his waving hair is a perfect blue, and the sun is unrelenting, but somehow his smile is brighter. Carefully, you join the duo and pat the ATV with a sigh. Looking at it now, it doesn’t seem so scary at all. And after all the tips your guide had given throughout the course, you feel ready to do it all again if you get the chance.
Jimin eyes you with a fond smile. “How’d you like it?” he asks.
You hum. “It was…really exhilarating,” you say with a grin. Gently, you reach out your hand for Jimin to shake and without missing a beat he laughs and takes it.
But instead of shaking it, he gives a sharp yank and you go tumbling into his chest. Heart hammering, you struggle to regain your footing, but before you can process what’s going on, Jimin wraps both arms around your back and holds you tight. You’re sure your face reveals your chagrin, so you’re careful to keep it buried in his chest. And although it’s muffled through the fabric of his shirt, you can hear Jimin’s heart thumping quick.
“Thanks for letting me ride with you,” he says quietly against your hair.
You swallow hard, nerves making your hands sweat, and nod once. “Um…yeah, of course.” You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your parted lips and, hesitantly, you reach around to pat Jimin’s back with one hand. “It was fun.”
He backs up with a smile, but keeps one hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do it again when we get home.”
You laugh again, eyes wide. “Are there ATV courses at home?”
Jimin pauses, purses his lips, and shrugs. “Let’s find out.”
Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Shoot! What time is it?” he asks, brows knitting.
You check the watch around your wrist and squint at it, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Jimin still touching you. “Um…half past two,” you say, brain foggy as Jimin steps closer.
He glances over your shoulder to stare intently at your wristwatch. Easily, he slides his hand along your shoulder blades before letting it rest at the small of your back. You can feel the ends of his hair tickling your hot cheek. He hums a little beside you and nods once, as if he is simply verifying the time. Perhaps he is simply doing that.
“Shoot!” Namjoon exclaims again. “If we don’t leave, like, now we’re gonna be late for snorkeling!”
Without meaning to, you slide your eyes toward Jimin and raise your brows only to find him staring at you with the same expression. The two of you share a knowing look before breaking into small smiles.
“Wouldn’t wanna be late for snorkeling,” Jimin says under his breath as Namjoon jogs back toward the guide, all the while frantically miming with his hands.
You grin. “God forbid.”
Hanseul said something once that really stuck with you. Not the sort of sentimental thing that you thought might’ve stuck with you, but something entirely mundane. Something trivial, something said in passing.
It was a Sunday afternoon. Neither of you had work, so you’d decided to take a nice long drive through the city. The sky was endlessly blue and beautiful, and even though you were just one car in the infinite stream of vehicles on the highway, you felt somehow free. With the windows rolled down all the way and music bumping softly through Hanseul’s car’s speaker, you remember shutting your eyes and just…breathing for a minute. And that was enough.
“Jesus Christ!” Hanseul shouted with a belabored sigh, and your eyes snapped open once more. You were quick to locate the source of his frustration and found, merging into your lane from the right, a massive freight truck. “I will never understand the hubris of semi drivers who think it’s a good idea to pass other semi drivers.”
Settling your racing heart, you sighed and breathed a laugh. “Impatience I guess,” you remarked, but he was prickly beside you and you knew he wasn’t finished.
He scoffed. “As if passing that guy is gonna get him there any faster,” he said, then rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Everyone should just go their own pace.”
And with that, he stopped talking. And you returned to leaning your head against the passenger doorframe, gazing out at the line of cars entering the highway.
The sun is white hot on your bare skin as you tread water, face bobbing just below the ocean’s surface. Floating like a buoy, you squint into the endless blue to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. It’s not as easy as it looks on Instagram, that much is clear to you now. The waves waves are gentle but restless as they rock you around and the plastic of the snorkel pushes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of your lips. Your arms and legs are still sore from the previous day’s hike, and now your thighs ache from gripping the ATV. But somehow, despite the hardiness of it all, as you float parallel to the ocean floor, you can’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder every time a flash of red fin or plume of underwater dust catches your eye. And so, mystified, you swim onward.
You feel someone swim up beside you, but it’s too much labor to look and you can’t tear your eyes away from a particularly beautiful fish cresting over the top of some coral beyond your fingertips. It’s only when that someone taps your shoulder that you finally snap from your daze and, blinking quickly, burst out from beneath the water and shove your snorkel to the side. Fearing catastrophe, you turn gasping toward Jimin as he wades beside you with a grin.
And your heart settles down.
You pat your chest a little and sigh. “Jesus,” you mumble.
“Scared you?” he asks, and from this close it’s hard not to get caught up in the brown of his eyes, in the wet ends of his dark hair as they dangle just above his eyebrows.
With the saltwater and the sunlight kissing his skin, he’s practically glowing.
You shake your head. “What’s up?” you ask.
He points with one finger toward the water below and wiggles his brows. “You wanna go down with me? The instructor said it’s really awesome.”
You stare at him for a long moment, trying to discern any malintent or ulterior motive and, upon gleaning none, settle for a nervous, breathy laugh. “Ah, I dunno…,” you say, rubbing your nose with the side of your finger. You look away, toward Jungkook’s fins as they flap violently against the glassy surface of the water. “I’m happy just looking from up here.”
Jimin hums a little. “You sure?” he asks, eyeing you like he knows something you don’t. “You seemed really into it when I came over.”
You swallow hard and your mouth tastes like seawater and anxiety. “No, I’m…,” you start, but it’s weak. The sentence trails into nothing.
He smiles bright enough to blind and you almost have to shield your eyes. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand toward you. “We’ll go down together and come back up together. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”
You stare at his outstretched fingers, pruny and slightly sunkissed, and ponder for a moment. Were you always so tepid? So lukewarm? Wasn’t there ever a time in your life when you did things just because they sounded fun? Thinking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment you became so pragmatic, so afraid. Perhaps when your parents told you a career in art wouldn’t work out for you. That you didn’t have the stuff. Perhaps even before that.
But deep down, buried deeper than you’d like you admit, there’s a part of you that’s always wanted to zipline through the jungle. To ride ATVs. To see the coral up close.
That slumbering part of you is beginning to awaken.
And you wonder as you take Jimin’s hand with an uncertain smile if this has been your pace all along.
He giggles and the two of you dive in unison. You follow the instructions the snorkeling teachers gave you on the boat, and you hold your breath just the way you’re supposed to. Nonetheless, the deeper you swim, the cooler the water becomes and the more your nerves begin to rattle.
Only this time, you don’t find it unpleasant. Not at all, actually.
Because Jimin’s hand is warm.
The two of you coast to a stop in front of the vibrant red coral as a school of orange fish rushes by in a wave. You both reel back for only a moment and then, catching each other’s eyes, exchange the biggest smiles your snorkels allow. And boy is Jimin right. It is awesome. You swear you’ve never seen colors like this. Juxtaposed against the perfect blue all around, the coral reef stands like a mountain underwater, fish flying like birds around the jagged pink peaks, hiding in the deep purple. Anemones wave so close you’re tempted to touch them, and as you lean closer for a better look, you see a red seahorse nestled beside a green sea plant. As if sensing you there, the tiny fish scoots out from its cover and makes its way toward you. Eagerly, you extend your index finger and the creature nudges you just slightly before continuing on its way to the other side of the coral barrier.
Your heart is pounding, racing like a sports car and loud like one too. You turn toward Jimin with eyes blown wide and he’s grinning at you, so fond. He gives your hand a squeeze and you can’t help but squeeze back. Wordlessly, he jerks his head toward the surface, and the way the water plays with his hair makes it look like silk. You’re distracted for a moment by how beautiful it is, how beautiful he is, but he squeezes your hand again and once more jerks his chin upward. Ah! You need air!
You only realize it as Jimin makes a motion toward the surface, but now that you’re conscious of it it’s all you can think of. Q
Summary- Taehyung takes Tannie to the vet and develops a crush on the vet, and proceeds to tell a few white lies to see her again word count- 1.6k pairing- taehyung x reader genre- fluff Warnings- none? a/n: loosely based on How Not To by Dan + Shay, for my beautiful @sugarly-laysa ; another one in third person, idk lol
Just scrolling along and I find this adorable little piece how freaking cute is this??? I really enjoyed it, brought my night to the perfect end and now I can sleep knowing that she liked him too and Tannie doesn’t have to fake being sick anymore lol but what a freaking cute way to meet and start falling for each other asdfghjkl
I-
I just checked tumblr and come back to the sweetest??? Review??? Usually my fluff fics go unnoticed so I was super surprised and elated to see this!!! This made my whole entire day you have no idea! Im so glad you liked it, thank you so much for the sweet words!!!!!!! ❤️☺️✨
RATING 18+. mature WC1k SUMMARY exploring sex with each of the members while being in a committed relationship.
JIN You’ve never wanted someone to be possessive of you, but for some reason you want him to mark you up and make you his. Leading up there’s a perfect balance of pouty and lovey Jin, his fingers skating up your sides, teasing touches, half-assed jokes.
And then something switches. Something in his gaze changes and you end up fucking in the kitchen whle dinner burns, his hand pressing down on your neck to hold you down as he thrusts into you. Think: dirty and domestic. And you better believe he’s into sensation play.
YOONGI There’s a strange contradiction to this man. There’s a rush, an urgency to wanting him where you’ll let him have you wherever, whenever. But then once you begin, he takes his time. He’s there for a good time and a long time. Sometimes he lets his mouth run, spilling the dirtiest obscenities. And sometimes he’s quiet, fucking you in the bathroom at the party, hushing you when you whine, biting down on his lower lip. He prefers to fuck at home though, where he’s not rushed, but still will take you in a broom closet if he wants to.
NAMJOON Half of the game is the foreplay. Days of foreplay. He buys you a dress with your exact measurements, and surprises you by renting out the entire gallery at your favorite museum. He’ll talk sweetly in your ear, hands roving over your body, murmuring about the artist, the technique, the impact. You’re half-blind to it all, and he loves seeing you swoon for him. He loves what he can do to you. It’s a little bit of a game for him, seeing how far he can push you before you break with need. And then in the car ride home, he’ll roll up the partition and fuck you, telling you over and over again, you’re mine, you’re mine.
HOSEOK He surprises you when you learn about his jealous streak. He doesn’t like to let it show, but you know it’s there, swimming beneath the surface. And rather than asking him to push it down, you turn it into a game. The two of you are partners in crime, in business, in life, and one day when you’re out working together you meet his eye. Your hand falls on the arm of the photographer running the shoot for the day. You laugh a little too loud. Pay him too many compliments. This is exactly what you and Hoseok talked about, and you know his eyes are glued to you. It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to snap. Excuse me, Hoseok will say, butting in gracefully in the middle of the conversation, his hand tightening around yours. He leads you to his dressing room where he fucks you and makes you look in the mirror as he does. He wants you to see where your bodies meet, where your bodies are joined. When he kisses along your neck, he won’t leave a hickey, because he doesn’t have to. The whole world already knows that you’re his. He’s into showing off the most wild positions during sex, and would definitely fuck you on a balcony.
JIMIN The man is obsessed with pleasure. His pleasure. Your pleasure. He wants to lay back and feel it all. He’s also determined to be the one who will make you feel better than anyone else in your whole life. He wants to talk about sex until it’s not talking anymore, he wants to be the perfect boyfriend. But there’s a dark side to him too. In his search for pleasure, he’ll run alongside his own and your own boundaries, teasing the line with a graceful toe. You never know what to expect from him, other than he’s aiming for multiple orgasms. He will probably tell you he loves you for the first time while fucking into you, even though he had the statement planned out for weeks with flowers and champagne. It’s an accident, but he doesn’t regret it, because you’re whining out his name soon after and saying it back.
TAEHYUNG Brush your fingers through his hair. He loves when you take your time with him, when you lavish him in delicate attention, treating his body with the same love that you treat him with. He likes to tell you what to do, loves the creativity with which you play around his rules and expectations. Like that one time he directed you to undress, and you took ten minutes to do so. He’s delighted by your loopholes, he loves your brain, and even more than that, he loves pushing you over the brink as he fucks into you hard, and you pant out, I love you, I love you, I love you.
JUNGKOOK Pain and release, in his mind, are inherently intertwined. He wants to push the boundaries of what you expect from him, going above and beyond in and out of the bedroom. He’s used to being the best, and it’s no different with you. “Accidentally fucking” is the norm with the two of you. Leaving parties early to fuck. Grinding against you in the club like he’s making love, the only thing in the way those pesky clothes. But he also likes to plan his accidents. Likes to play a part. Like that one time you started watching a movie and his cock “accidentally” slipped inside you. You had planned that, sure, but you hadn’t planned to come on his cock three times that night, as he grinned and pleaded, Come for me, just one more time, please.
summary: yoongi spots a couple of guys checking you out at the club. So, of course, he has to show them who you belong to. 18+
paring:non-idol!yoongi x female reader (established relationship)
genre: suggested smut, fluff and a bit of crack behavior from y/n’s drunk friends.
warnings: cursing, jealous yoongi, alcohol consumption, yoongi grabs reader’s ass, and heavy mentions of smut.
w/c:900
Rating:18+
a/n: so…. you might run into a few grammar mistakes since I can’t afford my grammarly subscription anymore (the sad tales of a broke hoe) but please enjoy!
Yoongi only came to the club tonight because you asked him to. It if were up to him, he’d have his eyes glued to his Netflix account, relaxing after a long, hard week of work. Instead, he sat hunched over at the bar, sipping on his whisky as his gaze followed your every move on the dance floor.
You were having fun with your friends; hair styled just as you liked, luscious lips coated with a flirty red shimmer, along with a tight fit bodycon dress that left nothing to the imagination. The more you laughed and danced with your girls, the more the thin fabric slipped up the thickest parts of your thighs, exposing your delicate flesh.
Yoongi ran his tongue across his bottom lip, daydreaming about all the ways he was going to fuck you the second the two of you got home. How he was going to slip your pretty feet out of your heels, placing kisses up your inner thighs until licking between the wet valley he was starving for. That would surely make his wasted time at the club worth wild.
“See that girl, the one in the black dress. She’s badd as fuck.”
Yoongi’s ears perked at the sudden mention of you. His eyes glaring at the man sitting beside him. The men who dared speak about his woman in such a perverse way.
“Yeah, she is.” The second male agrees, suggestively rubbing his hands together as he continues to leer over at you. “Had my eye on that ass all night. Think I should talk to her?”
The male playfully shoves at his friend, “Dude, I called dibs first.”
A chuckle vibrates from his throat, “A woman like that needs a real man.” He bites at his lip as his eyes travel down the curves of your body. “Someone who’s gonna take care of that sexy body all night-.”
CLANK
Yoongi slams his glass on top of the bar, creating a loud thud that causes the two men beside him to flinch at the sound. “Sorry.” He apologizes sarcastically, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he intimidatingly examines the two. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Y-your good, bro-” The man’s sentence gets cut short by the irritating glare deep within Yoongi’s eyes. He didn’t know what he had done wrong to cause such a malice look from a stranger, but he definitely didn’t want to make him any more upset. “No hard feelings.”
“Sure.” Yoongi clenched his jaw as he stood from the barstool, slapping down a 20 dollar bill to pay for his tab. “No hard feelings.” His tone, even more sarcastic, yet vexing than before.
Yoongi was never one to get jealous, in fact, he was quite confident when it came to your relationship. However, something about the way the two men gawked at you like a juicy piece of meat had him aggravated, wanting nothing more than to put them in their place.
Approaching you on the dance floor, Yoongi casually slips his hand around your waist from behind, spinning you around until the two of you are face to face.
“Yoo-Yoongi…” You were startled by the foreign touch at first, but the moment you recognized his chestnut hair, onyx eyes, and gummy smirk, your body relaxed into your boyfriend’s hold. “I thought you were going to stay at the bar-…”
Without giving you time to speak, Yoongi crashes his lips onto yours. His tongue seeking refuge past the entrance of your lips, exploring all the dips and crevices your mouth had to offer. His hands slip down the arch of your back only to unapologetically grab a handful of your ass.
You staggered for a moment, attempting to process where Yoongi’s frisky behavior stammered from. Only to fall victim to his intoxicating cologne and the throbbing he had caused between your thighs. Giving in, you press your breast against his chest, running your fingers throughout his hair to deepen the passion of the kiss.
When Yoongi pulls away, he continues to hold your body close to him. With his arms wrapped around your waist, his dark eyes pierced over at the two men gawking at you moments ago, only now staring with envy across their astonished faces.
“What’s got you so handsy tonight, Yoongles?” You giggle, oblivious to your boyfriend’s exact revenge.
Yoongi replaces his cocky expression with an alluring one. “What? I can’t kiss my beautiful girlfriend in the middle of the dance floor?” He answers innocently.
You arch a brow at your boyfriend, attempting to assemble the situation. “Something happened, didn’t it?” You press on.
Yoongi chuckles, not able to get anything past his intelligent girlfriend. “I’ll tell you later.” he says, leaning in to whisper, “Only after I bend you over the mattress and remind you who you belong to, kitten.”
Yoongi’s seductive tone and lewd choice of words sends a pleasurable tingle straight to your womanly core. The thought of him thrusting in and out of your needy hole has you quickly growing in heat. “Sorry girls,” You apologize to your friends, hastily grabbing onto Yoongi’s wrist. “I’m calling it a night. See ya,” you begin to drag him along.
“Waaaaaah.” Your tipsy best friend calls after you. “Leaving us so you can get some dick. I see how it is, Y/N!”
“Traitor!” The other friend called out to you playfully.
Yoongi only snickered at your eagerness to get him home. He always found you to be sexy whenever you carried that horny yet determined shimmer in your eyes. Also making a mental note to take care of every desire you had tonight.
And to think this all happened because Yoongi got jealous.
Summary:It’s Yoongi’s birthday, gifts are given and love is exchanged (vice versa).
Warning/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language; smut (fem-reader; fingering; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; handjob; but don’t be fooled, this is the softestsmut ever); fluff;ugh, have I mentioned that this is so so soft? (I’m sorry); I got carried away, but I have heart-eyes for Min Yoongi, so here is a 10K+ fic articulating that; mentions of the pandemic; kisses in the shower; building furniture together? Yeah; more kisses; Min Holly cameo; references plucked from We Get By just because lmaoo; idol!AU - established relationship.
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Um, wow, it was never supposed to get this long and I have no justification for it other than the fact that I love Yoongi sm???!!!!
(That should really be enough, I think).
Anyway, to recall the words of Jeon Jungkook *said with much enthusiasm and affection into a mic, in front a vast crowd, preferably*-
“Min Suga! Jjang-Jjang-Man-Boong-Boong - Happy SUGA day!”
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-
Sometime in 2016
“Ah, it’s freezing outside.”
It’s weeks before and Yoongi says this in a huff. It makes you lift your attention from what you were doing, examining him as he sheds his layers. The overcoat is laid neatly on the arm of the couch, his hoodie slightly rumpled at the sleeves from where it was pushed up. The tips of his ears are red. You knew by now that he hates the cold. It takes little to gleam parts of himself that are telling. Like how he would wait and wait before huffing out his complaints, only for them to come out in an adorable mumble and a scrunch of a nose. Or how he lopesrather than walks sometimes. Or the fact that he’s loud in the way he was quiet.
Shuffling across the living space, he comes to your side, draping his arm around your shoulder. The tips of his fingers are cold, soon to be warmed up due to being in close proximity with you.
“Did you have a good day?”
You smile, fitting yourself against him, “yeah. I did.”
He stares at your work, the perennial glow of your laptop screen. It’s a world entirely different from his own but he can identify with the hectic nature of it, the long hours, and sometimes the inevitability of bringing your work home. Your eyes meet and because you’re both shy in your nature, it straddles the line of awkwardness. Still new to each other, to this,you’re delicate in the way you handle being in a relationship.
“You can - stay over, if you want.”
His offer comes out staggered, a soft lisp draping over the vowels. Up close, Yoongi is red all over: the tip of his nose, the apples of his cheeks, his ears. It’s the first time he has a place of his own, no more sharing spaces with the others, which means that you can stay over at his.Sure, it’s small, situated in a narrow building that’s in the noiser part of the city. But it’s a home. That isn’t something akin to the parts he usually shares - like the ones he allows the public or even the members to see, different from parts of his soul he pours into the lyrics he composes. This apartment - his space - it’s meaningful. Remembering that makes you warm all over, especially when you see that your slippers are next to his by the door, or that the spare toothbrush holder in the adjoining bathroom is yours.
Later, you watch him have a meal since he came back late. He eats slowly, humming on occasion to signal his satisfaction. All the while, he holds your hand above the table while you type with the other. It’s not an unfamiliar sight as his thumb rubs your skin out of habit.
You’re cutting my productivity time, Yoongi.
It’s a gentle tease given that you’re chest blooms with something warm each time he overlaps his touch on yours. At that, he smiles, chewing on the food while his cheeks go pink.
Afterwards, as the dishes were drying in the rack, you excuse yourself to shower. On the bed are some of his shirts folded neatly atop each other. You smile, choosing one to wear.
You find him in front of the TV, paying attention to a replay of a basketball game. He mumbles something about the point guard missing a pass, you see that there’s a glass of whisky on the coffee table. The couch is never used much, you camp out on the floor as a force of habit. Settled next to him, the lights from the TV show that his face is clean but so red from the whiskey.
“You shouldn’t drink that everyday,” you chide, leaning into his warmth. He relents for a moment, setting down the sweaty glass. His fingerprints render the surface transparent, the droplets pooling on the coaster.
“It’s alright if you drink it in small amounts.”
You take a sip yourself, grimacing at the bitterness that touches your tongue, burning your throat. Yoongi laughs, pinching your cheek, “it’s not for everyone.”
It’s not like your stubborn allthe time, but something in the playfulness of his tone spurs you to down the entire contents of the crystalline tumbler. And, immediately humbled by the searing burn, your eyes snap shut, your entire body flinching as you coughed. Yoongi rubs your back, laughing.
“Don-t,- agh - don’t laugh,” you ordered, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes hastily, “ah, it’s so strong, how do you even drink that with a straight face.”
“Hold on,” he replied, letting his hand linger on the small of your back before standing up. Next to the TV stand is a small cart, it’s a movable bar of sorts inhabited by bottles of alcohol with labels you don’t even know of. Returning, he holds a glass with a darker liquid, your stomach turns at the idea of consuming it. Yoongi must’ve caught the apprehension in your face and smiles, “this isn’t the same thing, promise.”
Wary, you take a careful sip, your eyebrows raising at the sweet aftertaste. It’s syrupy, the burn isn’t as intense, but maybe it’s because Yoongi added some ice cubes to pare it down.
“You prefer sweeter things. That’s from a region called the Highlands in Scotland. That one only needs to be aged by three years, usually.”
Trying another sip, you find yourself adjusting to it, “what about you?”
“Ardberg. It’s smokier. Takes ten years to age.”
He slides his glass to yours in a meek toast. The game on the TV reaches its climax, the crowd roars as the team meant to win does. You watch Yoongi watching the highlights, the slope of his profile, the youthful glow of his skin. He’s always been attractive, but there’s something about him talking about the things he knows about. It’s like you can’t help it, to look at him with unabashed interest. He feels the weight of your stare.
“What?”
You shake your head, “nothing.”
It turns out that having whiskey makes you go all sleepy, unlike your previous experience with other alcohols where you get jittery. The TV stays on for a little longer, you cycle between the news, re-runs of Infinity Challenge andNew Journey to the West. At some point, you both made it onto the couch, half-folded onto each other, feeling full. Yoongi’s hand cradles your head at times, his fingers finding themselves into the strands, the gentlest of touches spurring more warmth. It’s nice like this, to be together, doing nothing in particular but feeling satisfied.
“Should we go to bed?” He asked, and you nod. It’s past midnight, creeping into the territory of 2AM.
In his room with the walnut bed frame and dark furniture, the curtains are drawn and Seoul blinks continuously in the distance. The Han is illuminated by the moon, otherwise, it’s a bleak serpent that cuts through the city in a seemingly infinite trail.
“Never realised your view is high enough to see the city like this,” you mumbled, the words coming out slurred at the end. You blink, a little startled that you turned out to be a lightweight. Yoongi pulls the covers up and over your shoulder before you turn to him, snuggling closer. He hums his answer, placing the back of his hands on your cheek, “your face is warm.”
“It’s from all that whiskey you gave me.”
“I told you to sip, not take it like a shot,” he chuckles, smoothing your hair down. You smile because you liked hearing him laugh, you liked it even more when he fussed over you. His affection was cute, which he never tends to show, at least in private like this. It makes you more salubrious.
“I’ll get something else when I come back from our trip.”
The thought dampens things a little. Right. Your boyfriend wasn’t as ordinary as he claims to be. He’s got a schedule that involved numerous trips away, whether it was for award shows, concerts, or reality TV abroad. You knew that you wouldn’t be together to celebrate his birthday this year but summer was also likely taken. You don’t get him to yourself often and you kind of wished that it wasn’t like this most times.
“When are you going?”
Yoongi traces the line of your jaw, his eyes are almost pitch black. The bed creaks as he asserts himself onto you, it’s closer than normal, it’s nice.
“May.”
There’s a knot in your chest. But it untangles as soon as he wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you underneath his chin so that your nose grazes his neck. Yoongi smells like mint, his heartbeat is steady as your fingers curl on his shirt. It’s really nice like this, swaddled in grey sheets that smell like him, your bodies fitting nicely.
“It won’t be too bad,” he murmurs, “we’ll call.”
Yes. You always call. Then, you catch yourself, blaming the whiskey. Inebriation made you sulky.
“I know.”
For a while, you both say nothing. You feel Yoongi’s hold go lax, realising that he’s fallen asleep. You think that you’d want it to be like this for as long as possible, as much as time allowed for. You follow suit not long after, falling into the scent of mint and the soft sighs he exhales.
-
“These are really warm, you made a good choice, choosing my ones.”
You look up, finding the kind eyes of the elderly woman manning the stall. It’s an open market, it’s busy, and the air is too cold for what is meant to be early Spring.
“Yes, I’m glad that I found this one,” you replied, as her soft hands folded it under some baking paper. You don’t know why you were suddenly shy, as if she had the means to know who it was for.
“There are others, more colourful ones if you like. I’ll give you a discount if you buy two.”
Shaking your head, you hand her the notes and a little extra.
“This one’s the right one, thank you.”
-
Yoongi’s hair is a shock of mint at age of twenty-three.
He’s grinning so hard at the brown parchment that you find yourself embarrassed, barely getting the words out you’d rehearsed on the subway over.
“I - I thought you could use it for when you’re cold. I mean, you said that you guys are filming abroad in Europe and I heard it’s still cold even if you go in the summer months, so -”
You don’t get to finish your sentence since he’s taking you in his arms, kissing your temple.
“Happy Birthday,” you murmured, although you’re a couple of days late. You hadn’t seen him due to the back to back commitments. He’s as apologetic as you are, as if everything was in your control. His kisses travel down, they’re light and ghost-like. He’s so near that he becomes a blur of mint green before you closing your eyes.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, tenderly kissing you, catching the tilt of your head by resting his hand on the nape of your neck. He inches forward, you go back, and it’s like this, slow and easy, your noses grazing at times. Your hands grasp at his shirt through his bomber, feel the way his heart is as erratic as yours. Backing up on the table, his hands support himself, planting his palms on the oak surface.
“Hurry back,” you said breathlessly, hands all over him, pulling him in. You hear him chuckle, breaking the kiss only to nip at your lower lip, saying your name softly while curling his finger to angle your chin up. His cheeks are red, an odd yet adorable complement to his hair.
“I haven’t even left yet.”
You press your lips on his again, “I know.”
And their trip does happen in May. He sends you pictures of magnificent landscapes from Norway, the sweeping sceneries in Sweden, the interior of a train he went on. Selca’s of him in a green parka wearing the gift you got him. This time, his hair was darker, a chestnut brown that appears honeyed under the sunlight. You call when it’s morning in Seoul and night wherever he finds himself, his eyes are tired and his grin is wide. You say that you miss each other but it’s never really that long before you’re together again.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said, and the next thing is said quietly because he’s not alone -
“I love you.”
It was your turn to smile, “I love you too.”
-
Sometime in 2017
The Wings Tour started a few days ago and you’re nestled in Yoongi’s bed. His hair is as natural as it could get, the darkened strands falling over his eyes as he blinks sleepily.
“Planning to have it darker,” he says, in this low-timbre, scratchy in the way he forms his vowels. Gingerly, you swipe at the lengthier locks, his eyes are shut but you knew he was restless. He often was in the middle of these things.
“Like inky black?”
“Mhm.”
You notice that he’s partial to wearing hoops but you couldn’t help but think that it would suit him even more if he had another pair. The conversation wanes and you’re drawn to it too, feeling the pull of sleep. Then, you say something, more of a reminder for yourself -
“It’s your birthday soon.”
Yoongi stirs, curving his body, getting comfortable, “already?”
“Hm.”
There’s a new lamp in the corner of his room, setting warm hues along the wall. His sheets are navy, they’re slightly worn, pilled at the corners. Tomorrow, you’ll wake before him, a thing you’re used to now, kissing him under the covers as the sun creeps over the city line. This feeling opens up to content, it’s strangely unbearable. But Yoongi doesn’t sleep yet, his hand trails down, down from your back, onto your hip, his leg coming between yours, eliciting a gasp.
“Yoongi,” you whispered, not really relenting yourself. It’s a different hum that makes it past his lips this time, your bodies suddenly pressing against each other with renewed urgency. You nip at his bottom lip, welcoming the pleasant relief that surges through you when holds you impossibly close.
“I’m leaving soon,” he says, pulling the sounds you’ve been harbouring at the back of your throat out, resulting in breathy sighs.
“I know,” you replied, now on your back as he kisses along your neck, dark brown hair tickling your skin. The rustle of the fabric almost echoesin the room, it makes you shy despite you both being alone. He’s with you again, hungry kisses on your lips, your arms looping over his neck, body arching up while his hand skates on your back. Your nails dig into his skin, he hisses, sucking at your bottom lip suddenly, the temperature escalating to a threshold that prompts you to throw the covers off.
“Ah, fuck,” you moaned, his fingers wandering, wandering till they press on your core over the seam of your shorts. It’s a harmless friction, the pressure is just enough that your hips follow his touch. Your arm goes over his neck, your other hand trailing down his front, palming him through the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants. He inhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours, the bed groaning as your movements become frantic.
The phone rings - probably his. You both freeze, your lungs contracting and expanding in such a rate that your breaths come out shaky. He pulls away from you, kissing your forehead softly. He walks to the table, picking up without looking at who’s calling.
It doesn’t matter anyway, you knew that it was a nightly reminder of his schedule commencing early tomorrow. Technically, it istomorrow according to the glare of red on the clock nearby. His manager knew him well, and, like the others, he is nagged then nudged accordingly. Yoongi repeats the information, something about a fan sign at 9AM. He watches you, chewing at his bottom lip as he fiddles with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. The mood dips, sleep encroaches on you both, the better option as he has a full day ahead.
So you sleep together, sleep in the form of slumber, holding hands in the dark. It’s a kind of intimacy that takes hold, no matter the time or place. It’s like knowing what Yoongi smells like, those layers of scent never lost on you, like knowing how his breathing descends into a slower cadence when he’s about to fall asleep.
But he doesn’t forget, he never does -
I love you.
And you say it back, those three words, recalling how the first instance was when you both said it at the same time, dissolving in peals of laugher after. It was awkward yet charming, like a second confession of sorts. He hums, his heart so calm and yours trying to keep pace. You nuzzle your nose, your mouth still tasting like his, not ready to succumb yet, not till you say -
“Sleep well.”
-
Ah
Ah
Yoongi, ahn -
Your breath spreads against the skin of his collarbone, hot and staggered. Your back arches, hips tipping down while his fingers fuck you in a steady rhythm, prolonging your first orgasm. Every nerve sparks so much that your legs stiffen. He’s leaving for Chile tonight. The tour is well on its way. The airport will be filled camera lenses, his face will be hidden behind a mask and his hair will be tucked under the beanie you gifted him last year.
It’s his birthday and his hair is obsidian. Tonight, he wears the silver hoops you gifted him during dinner. They graze your skin as you hold him close, the cold metal stinging a bit. It’s too warm, perilous in the way you squirm under his ministrations.
Yoongi kisses you, his tongue sliding smooth on your own, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightens then unfurls, he’s too good at this - making you feel good.Your hips move sloppily, the wet noises are obscene, even in the dimness of the room. Your legs are splayed wide, his muscles are firm when set against yours, your moans are continuous, curses following suit, fuck, ah, overwhelmed in the fullest sense of the word.
“Good?” He asks, curling his fingers just so, tearing a sharp gasp from you, shuddering.
“Y-yes,hgnh,” you whimpered, tucking inwards, hips slowing in rotation as the pleasure enters a cycle of bliss and pain, pain because somehow, your body can’t seem to keep up. “I like it,” you sighed, biting down on your bottom lip, one hand fisting the sheets, the other clinging onto his back, slippery from sweat, slippery from how you were earlier, desperately rocking into release. He groans as you clench around his fingers, wetness trickling out, the peak rising and rising, “I’m gonna cum again,” you gasped, rutting your hips, feeling him plunge knuckle-deep, “w-want to, again.”
“You can. Go ahead, cum for me,” he said, a hint of smugness in his voice, his fingers never slowing, slender digits coated in your slick arousal. They curl slightly, rubbing in a torturous rhythm, over and over and over, and your hips stutter as you came, waves of wetness providing a messy squelch, but he doesn’t stop.
“Y-yoongi,fuck -ah,ah,” you gasped, shaking from it all, heart beating a mile a minute as you try to compose yourself.
“Please, I can’t,” you said breathlessly, legs trying to shut as he goes in, rubbing that spot that sends you flinching. “P-please.”
He stops, slowing down to pull away completely. He grips your thigh, keeping you open, his fingers sticky along your skin. The smell of sex clouds the air, sweat drying on certain parts, he kisses you in apology, you taste salt, and you taste him too.
“No, it’s just - it wasn’t bad,” you said, trying to catch your breath, a bit dizzy, “I like it, I like it toomuch, when were together, when -” and because you couldn’t express it, you pull him down, kissing him messily, sighing into his mouth as he grinds. He’s hard again and you miss the feel of him inside you.
“Fuck me,” you begged, feeling the resurgence of heat. Yoongi nods, his tongue briefly resting on the corner of his mouth, pale skin gone pink, his chest drawing deep breaths. And maybe it’s because you’re nervous that he’s leaving again and it’s soaking your chest with feelings that overwhelm. You’re trembling by the time he rolls another condom on, his knees dipping the mattress as he positions himself.
You gasp as you feel him pushing in, the tip stretching you a little more, he groans, mouth hovering over yours, “ah fuck, I think I won’t last a minute.” That makes you laugh and he shakes, “don’t - ah, don’t.” He retreats his hips, yet he’s almost collapsing over you.
“No, no,” you said quickly, pressing on his lower back, urging him, “it’s good,” you said, pleasure-drunk words delivered on his neck. He lets out a controlled breath, fanning your hair as he went, inching in slowly, kissing you, moaning as you were as he bottomed out. And when he moves, your hand flies to the headboard for purchase, palm curling awkwardly on the slim bars, panting as his fingertips graze over your nipples, caressing, pinching, then caressing again.
“Yoongi,fuck,” you moaned, reckless, your voice goes all breathy. Your cheek is pressed against his as he pistons his hips, slow at first, then picking up the pace, going all the way inside you until your breath mists on the metal of his earrings. He kisses you all over, still in control, his tongue making everything hot and wet. His hand clutches yours, fingers digging on your knuckles, your legs hitch up, your head falling back to sight of his skin going from pink to a deeper red.
“Ah,fuck -”
He leans forward, his movements steady, it’s so good even when slowed, and it’s warm all over. He mouths along your jaw, breathy groans travelling right down to your core. Your fingers grip him hard, “Yoongi, ah” the build up reaches an all time high, the effort of containing the pleasure seemingly too much.
“C-close,” you choked out, the friction becoming harder, pushing you to the edge, and Yoongi nods, gently pulling you to him, moving faster, harder.
“Angh,shit,” you gasped, your back arching as you came, causing you to cling onto him, thighs shaking as he rolls his hips, gasping into your mouth as you tighten around him, so wet and messy in between you that he groans, biting your bottom lip. You moaned as he grinds his hips, filling you to the hilt, making you both jolt as your inner walls clamp around him tightly, moaning against the crook of his neck as he came too. His hips still, his lips, slick with saliva, tasting like you, like sex. You’ve always been sensitive and it’s easier after the first time to get to this point, but it’s really in the way Yoongi holds you, how he knows how to make you feel good, where to touch or to kiss.
You both go limp, soon a panting, sweaty tangle of limbs. The sensations become less acute, resulting in pulses - the press of his mouth on your neck, the sound of your name is a soft murmur in his voice. Your fingers play with the shorter strands of hair on the back of his neck, you feel him smile on your skin as your hearts slow down.
With your bodies faded from the activity, you don’t realise that you had both drifted off until the blare of his alarm pierces the stillness in the air. A light sleeper amid his schedules, Yoongi reaches for his phone, kissing a spot between your shoulder blades in. Morning has yet to show itself, the clock nearby reading 3AM. He apologises for waking you up but you don’t mind. He’ll be going away and you’d hate for him to not wake you.
Thankfully, he knows that too, halting his apologies and holding you by your wrist.
“Shower?”
You nod, noticing how the hoops he’s wearing now come in a pair.
“I knew it,” you said. He turns around on the way into the bathroom.
“What?”
“They suit you.”
He gauges that you’re looking at his ears. He grins, his eyes puffy from sleep but he looks as well-rested as he can, despite his hair sticking up (cutely, though). He touches the smaller hoop, wide enough to let his finger poke through.
“They do.”
-
Sometime in 2020
There’s a table where you have dinner on in Yoongi’s apartment. It’s bigger now where he’s moved, more rooms, a larger kitchen with ample storage. He’s had the bed custom made, the frame is still a trusty walnut dyed in a cooler shade of brown. He’s working on his mixtape, aptly titled ‘D-2.’
His headphones are unplugged and you’re doing your own thing while you’re close together like this. On occasion, he would play something, running his tongue over his bottom lip in concentration. It’s mostly going over the rap in certain songs, which leads you to count his measures, the way he made choices regarding his inflections, intonation, and accent. Daechwitabooms through the speakers attached to his laptop. You knew because it’s the song that would drop with a music video and he sent you clips of the behind the scenes. You teased him about his long blonde hair, you look just like a King, Jeonha. He dismissed you with an embarrassed wave of his hand.
He catches your gaze, blinking rapidly. It’s the first time you’re hearing it fully. The words come out aggressive, sometimes the syllables are spat out, the sentences scrambled yet flowing together in a rhythm. It’s the kind of song that gets your pulse going.
“It’s a bit, uh…”
“I like it,” you supplied, “and the beat doesn’t change, right?”
He nods, rubbing his nose with his knuckle.
“You noticed.”
I always do.
Finding your way on his lap, you take out a small box from the pocket of the hoodie that your wearing, presenting it to him. He leans back, his eyebrows raising in response.
“What’s this?”
You shrugged, “open it.”
He does, albeit with one hand as he holds you close with the other. The lid lifts and reveals a red string bracelet laid on the spongy bed. He says your name, ending in a chuckle.
“Ah, what’s this.”
You don’t know why, even after all these years, you still get shy whenever you get him gifts. After all, what do you get someone who seemingly has it all?
“I know it’s a couple of days early,” you said, trying to justify it. There won’t actually be a lot time on the day of his birthday. He tries to put it on, laughing at little when the hook doesn’t thread through the opening. You help him, fastening it to his liking.
“Happy Birthday,” you murmured, kissing the top of his head, then his temple, then his cheeks, until he’s laughing as a gentle protest. Always the one more readily affectionate between the pair of you, he tends to do that when you get like this.
You liked to hear him laugh, he’s been so stressed with everything going on lately. It’s harder with the cancellations, the concerts, the tour they’ve rehearsed tirelessly for. His embrace tightens around you, his hair smells like mint and he’s soft underneath his hoodie. Leaning back, you see that his skin is dewy and flushed.
“Thank you.”
You kiss the tip of his nose.
“No problem, Jeonha.”
He bursts into laughter, his eyes squeezing shut, carving smile lines at the sides, “stop it.”
-
Yoongi finds you under the sheets, face close to your phone, a hermit in a cave. You both smile; he’s back early today. The shirt he’s wearing is nothing short of massive, cloaking him in a soft, cream cotton. The bed dips as he sits down, you notice that his hair is drying, the tips sticking together. He must have showered at work.
“How was your day?”
Putting away your phone, you reach to hug him, to which he relents, his body deflating onto yours. These days, you were fortunate enough to function during normal hours. They’ve adapted to a different norm, but staying in one place has allowed for less stringent commitments.
“Good. Worked on something coming out later this month, went to the gym for a while.”
You sweep your hands over his back, feeling the muscles underneath, “you’re warm.” Your fingertips find his trimmed hair, the ends are sharply shorn, “really warm.”
“It’s nothing, at least it’s not like after a concert,” he said, resting his chin against your shoulder, his hands on your sides, barely exerting pressure. You remember him describing it to you, what it was like to walk up, hearing the thunderous cheers that shake the stage.
There’s nothing like it. As if your soul is sucked out of your body, your senses all on edge.
Yoongi’s fingers press on your skin, they travel along your lower back, holding, squeezing.Lately, he’s been stoic about it all, it’s fairly early and you’re thinking back. Those who get the opportunity to hear the screams of sixty-thousand all at once are for a privileged few. It wipes out the trepidation of basically being an athlete on stage and the gruelling pressure to remain in top form for three hours. And to hear your own words sang back to you - that’s the ambrosia accompanying the cacophonous cheers.
At first, he didn’t even realise that he was stressed because performing was a release for him. But when the concerts were cancelled, he felt like he was losing his job. It all happened at once, where every anxious gaze were on the screens, watching helplessly as carefully laid plans fell apart in a blink. You both read books, watched movies, investing in the mundane, holding his hand through it in order to trick his mind that he was okay and that he was feeling better.
That’s why it’s no small feat to endure what he was going through, the others too.
The crowd has shrunk into screens, delayed (in spite of fibre optic connection), and at times, fabricated.
“You okay?”
You follow this up with a well-intentioned scratch on the back of his head. He hums, pulling back. You’re met with his lips on yours. It takes a few seconds to process it, to react, to respond. His warmth seeps through you, his dark brown eyes can’t hide the blown out pupils, but it’s pretty in the way Yoongi can be. Years couldn’t dampen that way you’re irrevocably smitten for him, ceaselessly attracted to his every facet, those glossy lips, pink most times, and red sometimes.
It doesn’t take much, a few inches maybe, your noses brushing before your tilt your head, feeling the whisper of his breath, the tender graze of his lips. It feels like an age, it’s so slow but tangible, so real.He tastes sweet, the slide of his tongue is hot, you sigh, arching into him, his mouth kissing the corner of yours, then your chin, your jaw, your heights being more compatible sat down. Your breath grows shallow, the sensation overtaking like a heady cloud, he leans, cheek pressed against yours, silver hoops barely indenting, the metal sears a little. And he knows that there’s a spot right below your ear, he plants a soft kiss, sucking suddenly and you inhale sharply, head tilting back in willing submission.
“Clothes,” he rasped, fingers finding the hem of your shirt while yours tug at his collar, all too ready to drag it over his head. In the low light, you part, Yoongi grows timid. He often does when there isn’t that much of a need to fling the layers in haste, when there’s room for romance. Oddly, this leads to missteps, fumbling. With his shirt off, you follow, shivering at the gust of air.
“Need to work out more,” he said, ruffling his hair. It’s dark brown this time, he wanted to let his scalp rest from all the bleach. You liked his hair in any colour but this was your favourite, it reminded you of when you first met, tripping over your words, falling steadily for the boy with dark hair and dark eyes.
“I like your body.”
And you mean it because it’s true. Whether that’s in bed or seeing him change to leave for something, or how he sometimes stays in his underwear, distracted by something on his phone right after the shower. You like its contradiction, the softness of it when you’re an admirer, the strength of his muscles in his arms when you hold him, the way his stomach hints at definition, the dark happy trail going straight down, his lithe legs, hands that have slender fingers and prominent veins.
“Ah, you’re only saying that,” he complains, going red because he was easily flustered. His accent slips out, aided by his voice dropping into a timbre, the satoori manipulating the syllables in a way that you liked.
You help him unbuckle his belt, loosening his slacks, peeling these layers away, fingers finding skin, heat spreading instantaneously. It’s difficult to not get restless this time, not when you’re this close. And maybe it takes a little more effort for him to shimmy out of his slacks, the way they drag down his legs for a bit before pooling on the floor. Down to his briefs, you slip out of your shorts, clothes landing in a pile, out of sight.
His hands secure themselves on your hips, and you’re breathing him in, hands exploring as much as you can, the landscape of his body is yours, smooth and firm and warm.You jolt as his mouth peppers kisses along your neck, down to your collarbones, soft lips find your nipple, the slight bite of his teeth just enough for it to stay good.
“Yoongi,” you breathed, your back hitting the bed, the frame shaking only slightly as your position adjusts. Your fingers dip into the hem of his underwear, pulling to expose further. He lets you, careful with his attention, humming against your skin, dark hair sweeping that it tickles.
“I just -” he says, worked up, his mouth on your neck, the sounds you’re making seem too loud in the room, the walls no longer a muted sanctuary, “it’s not that I’m -”
“Yeah, I know,” you whispered, feeling the way his hand slots onto yours, making you smile. He’s not stressed, you think. It’s different. He says your name, his hand gripping yours, the red bracelet feels rough, contrasting with his delicate skin. It’s startling, the way your hands look together, his fingertips with their rounded edges and blunt nails. Those bony fingers and broad palms, they make your insides flip. He’s not wearing that many rings this time, you kiss his knuckles, skate your lips over the silver ring he likes to wear.
He presses you onto the bed, shrugging off the last of the layers, you stroke him languidly, he balks, gasping slightly as you squeezed. Your bodies are like furnaces, you work to a rhythm that befits how you know him, low moans make it from his mouth onto yours, he kisses you clumsily, the clash of teeth, the press of his lips, these sensations overtake.
“I’ve been - I haven’t been good,” he starts, you shake your head, “I’m not good with words,” he confesses.
You kiss him with fervour because you can, because you need to while bringing him to the edge. For a while, it’s just your laboured breathing, he’s hard and leaking, it drips onto you, it’s sticky, messy.His hips act on their own, his tongue sliding against yours with a kind of desperation that couldn’t be replicated. You taste him, his mouth all too willing to indulge you, his fingers pinching your nipples, but his grip moves to fist the sheets as you coax him to the peak, he shudders, that breathy ahsounding so good.
“Fuck, - ah,” he pants, as you hum in satisfaction, tightening your grip, circling your thumb on the slit. “You, ah, drive me crazy,” he says, kissing you to punctuate this confession. Your heart lurches, it’s exhilarating, like a free-fall.
Any other time, you would have teased him, maybe laughed a little, remarked some witty comeback that would turn his cheeks vermillion. But you kiss him, missing him in this achingly human way. He comes over you for a bit, your chests pressed together, ignoring the way it’s sticky in between, he’s nervous, you can tell because he’s nuzzling that spot below your ear. The embrace is needed, his arms, strong and firm, his heartbeat is rabbity, he exhales.
“I don’t tell you enough but,” he starts, chopping his sentences, syllables going hollow from his nerves, “I miss you, I love,” he lifts his head, kissing you again, “I love you.” You grin into the kiss, chuckling soon after.
“Yoongi-sshi, you’re quite the sap today,” you tease, pulling back to see the tip of his nose go red, he looks so soft, his hair askew, his eyes darting along your features, perhaps a little lovestruck. He rolls his eyes, you appease him, kissing his chin, scratching the place between his shoulder blades, he laughs, it’s hoarse, like how it is when he’s amused. But it melts into a gasp as you widen your legs, your heels pushing against his lower back, down until you feel him there, hard again. It’s a slow grind, his moans are louder with his face turned to your neck. But you say it back.
“You too,” you said, it’s whispered, finding yourself shy.
He pulls away so he could reach for a condom by the nightstand, your shadows shift along the wall, he puts it on and you watch pink seep onto his chest. He gently spreads your thighs, raising one to kiss the side of your knee, your breath hitches, “Yoongi.”
You feel him push in, your hips stuttering as you adjust. The tremble of your body is a tell-tale sign that you won’t really last that long, not when he’s kissing you at the same time, trapping heat, the taste of you and him together, the saltiness of sex, the briny scent of sweat, the way your skin is scalding. You moaned as he fills you to the hilt, he does too, but it’s a deeper growl, throaty as he gasps in your mouth, his fingers twining with yours, the bracelet the only thing on his wrist, impressing onto your skin. It becomes slow, intimate, it’s enough for it to be quiet, suffocating in a good way. You grab at him, clutching at the hard muscles of his back, eyes closed, feeling, tasting.
“G-good, feels good,” you murmured, barely coherent, your words muffled on his neck as his hips rock forward. Your brain gets a little bit unfiltered, he kisses you all over, down your chin, along your jawline, his hips pulling and pushing, constant movement that emits wet sounds, the smack of flesh, it’s too loud, but the feelings in between drown them out. He knows that when you jolt, it’s because he’s brushed a part where it’s good.
The bed groans, the headboard judders, your gasps meet his grunts, the deep rose on his cheeks, the blown out pupils, he’s devastating to look at. There’s a prominent slash on his bottom lip, likely from how hard he was biting down. He looks different, it’s version of him meant for you - only you. The way his hair is back to being damp, some strands sticking to his temples, others clamping together to be pushed back, the dewy sheen on his nose, the clean scent from his skin. You love him like that; it’s almost too much.
“What’s wrong?” He breathes, slowing as he notices you go starry eyed.
“N-nothing,” you stammered, clenching involuntarily, he places his hand on the side of your face, his thumb swiping your cheekbone, it’s tender but it burns. He doesn’t say anything more, pulling you close, foreheads pressed together, his hips resuming that push and pull, you kiss, your hearts fluttering, fingers adopting a bruising grip. It aches in a good way, you moan against his mouth as you came, body shaking from the way it consumes, wet between your legs, inner muscles pulsing. You grip him carelessly, urging him to keep going without using words. You’re lightheaded, whimpering as he complies, plunging forcefully, he murmurs something - something soothing that your moans come out stuttered.
Heat curls inside you, it’s overbearing, your bodies free-falling despite being tangled like this, the sheets are pulled from the bed, skin scraping on the wrinkles, folds, then ridges. His bracelet, a bright red, matches the way he’s gets tainted in rose.
“Y-yoongi,” you said weakly, and he holds you, until he’s careless in the way he moves, thrusting to chase that peak, you shudder, legs folded, trying to tuck them into you more. Ah, fuck, if you do that - he groans, succumbing to his instincts, his hand slotting at the back of your knee, your high gets prolonged and you can’t help but cry out, spasming around him as he came, sensitive everywhere, your breaths are loud. They echo as your ears ring, cheeks pressed together, your limbs flinching as he slows.
After some time, you’re side by side, staring at each other in the dim interior. He holds your hand or you hold his, it doesn’t really matter. In the quiet, there is no resistance, just the pleasure drunk haze you cocoon yourselves in, easily lured by sleep. He leans forward, kissing your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste.
“I kind of like this,” you said, pushing his hair back.
“Like what?”
You shrugged, not quite knowing what you meant either, so you say -
“This.”
Yoongi chuckles, knowing where you’re coming from. The bracelet on his wrist is thin but it’s a contrast to his paleness, complementing the silver that adorn him wherever he goes. He kisses the back of your hand.
“Me too.”
-
March 2022
Yoongi [09:09PM]
How was it? :)
You [09:11PM]
I clapped so hard that my hands went numb ha
Yoongi[09:12PM]
:(
You [09:14PM]
It was good, don’t worry :D
I can’t believe you shouted NG - we tried our best with the wave you know T_T
Yoongi [09:16PM]
It technically was though >:]
Are you safely out of the venue? I can send someone to take you home
You [09:21PM]
It’s okay :) I’m already on the subway
Someone brought the balloons back from the concert XD
There are two purple balloons pressed to the ceiling, comical in the way they are half deflated, pushed up with the sheer will of two ARMYs who are reviewing the pictures they took.
Yoongi[09:23PM]
Wah ~ the huge purple balloons? keke
You [09:25PM]
Yup! Kekeke
Yoongi[09:28PM]
You wore enough layers, right?
You [09:29PM]
Took your scarf with me :)
As the subway carriage dragged itself along the track, you hide your face under the black wool, adjusting the folds over your mask. It’s warm and you knew that it smells like Yoongi. A sweet scent that sticks to the back of your mind.
Yoongi[09:31PM]
You should have taken my beanie too
You [09:32 PM]
I’m finee :) I’m warm enough
Yoongi[09:35PM]
I’m almost home.
I’ll wait for you before I take a bath.
Also, do you like this?
[picture message attached]
You almost drop your phone on the account of him sending you a post-concert selca. His hair is pushed back and his eyes are bright - happy. There’s something about the way the rose flush kisses his skin after a show, the way the light settles on the planes of his cheekbones or nose. It’s pink, always pink, his hair plastered wet, sticking to his nape, gorgeous, almost sultry. He makes pink splotches so pretty on his skin, the way the eyeshadow dusts his eyelids, his nose rimmed with shades of red.
He’s handsome.
(He always is.)
You [09:36 PM]
You almost made me drop my phone -_-
Yoongi[09:37PM]
Keke
Guess I’m good at what I do then :)
Glad you liked it ^—^
You laugh to yourself as your stop nears. You could hear the excited chatter of fellow concert goers and ARMYs happening all around, some are dressed in the bright purple of Jimin’s ‘With You’ hoodie, others wearing Bt21 headbands. It won’t be too long until you’re back home with him and that thought warms you more than any layer of clothing you could have added to ward off the cold.
-
The bathroom smells sweet, like vanilla. The lights are adjusted so that they appear muted, the scent thickening to the point where your head swims lightly. Not too many bubbles form on the surface, just enough to cover Yoongi decently. His bottom half soaks while the steam rises in tendrils, touching the ends of his hair curly. The water is hot enough to tinge his nose pink, his fingertips taking on a familiar red as he holds the sides so that he doesn’t sink. His upper half is mostly dry since he’s meant to sweat. There are some lukewarm drinks on the recessed ledge meant for shampoos.
Usually, Yoongi would soak in the bath for thirty minutes after the concert, shower, then head to bed. He complains that he gets tired easily these days, mumbling them out in a huff. And you understand, since concerts were an exercise and a half. The rehearsals that came before were equally taxing; you couldn’t do what they did in an hour let alone three.
But you’re sat on a small stool right by the tub, hands intertwined with his. He has a day off tomorrow before the next show, a breather of sorts.
“Does it still hurt?” He asks, breaking the quiet vacuum offered by the bathroom. His voice is weirdly echoey against the walls. You look at your hand in his.
“Feels a bit static.”
He kisses your wrist, the water drips over the edge of the tub onto the tiled floor.
“At least your voice isn’t hoarse,” he said, reaching for the cup. You beat him to it, handing it swiftly. After, he hisses, muttering about the water being painfully warm. Leaning his head on the curve of the tub, his mouth gapes slightly, resting the cup on the ledge.
“We normally have wine,” he says eventually.
You nod, running your thumb along the red bracelet that he put on while rummaging for a change of clothes earlier. The same one you got him for his birthday two years ago. It’s strange to think that you were both able to break your solitude, how the years created this perfect symbiosis. Initially, you were both reserved towards each other. The years did all the work, you think. It’s eroded certain things for kinder things to grow - lovingthings. Now, you do what lovers do. Normally, you did have wine, your legs kind of sticking together underwater, your calves against his thighs.
You’ve known him long enough that there really shouldn’t be anything new left to know. But you still get lost, you still find something, a stray freckle by the inside of his knee, the softness of his hair when freshly dried, how his clothes fit him just right despite being resolutely oversized. The way his hands are calloused from playing the guitar or that his edges aren’t really edges because Yoongi is really soft underneath it all.
“I couldn’t read half the comments during my live, should I get LASIK?”
He sighs, sliding down on the tub, his belly button disappearing into the line of water. He looks good like that, a bit frayed, spent. His hair, now lengthier, a sweeping arc on his forehead, curled deliberately when performing, lays undone. His skin is a bit raw from the soak, you squeeze his hand, meeting him in the eye.
“I like it when you wear glasses.”
It’s not a protest but a suggestion. Yoongi wears these ultra-light frames, it’s scholarly so you call him Professor Min whenever he walks by. He laughs it off, though, like he’s doing now.
“Do you really like them on me?”
He’s opened his eyes, looking at you. Without hesitating, you nod, “I enjoy calling you Professor.”
He flicks some water in your direction, you gasp, doing the same.
“It really suits you!”
You smile at the way he curls his lips, lifting them to form this half-smirk, “fine. I’ll keep them for you.”
-
“We’re meant to be quick -”
“Then we shouldn’t have sat down.”
Yoongi adjusts the water pressure, lathering your hair as he does. It had been easier to stay close to the floor, on small stools. The hot stream of water is rather tempting, coupled with the presence of the person you wanted to see most of the time, if not all.
As he runs his fingers along your scalp, scraping the bubbles down, you consider yourself pretty fortunate in life. You shared this ambition with Yoongi, this relentless pursuit in your chosen niche, hoping that one day, it will all matter.
That if you kept pushing - that if you worked hard enough, you’d get to where you need to be.
But then, you never thought that you’d meet someone like Yoongi, let alone have him occupy your heart. But it’s not quite that, not in the superficial way that romantics refer to, because it’s deeper, tangible. He’s a certain buzz in your skin, his grin seared into your mind, the soft kisses he presses on the side of your face, the scent of mint permeating your clothes.
You didn’t mean to, not really.
Yet here you are, a lot more in love than planned.
“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he said, rinsing your hair.
“Hm,” you managed, leaning your back on his chest. “Let me scrub you, otherwise I’ll really spend the night here.”
He laughs before moving. Even if he claims that he runs out energy easily, he’s always the one taking care, doing all the things needed to be done before falling asleep with his phone in hand.
“It’s meant to rain tomorrow - take care on the stage,” you find yourself saying, he leans on your hand for a moment as you lather his hair.
“Ah, really? The staff might have a hard time.”
He closes his eyes as the water washes the soapy suds away.
“I like your hair like this,” you said, tucking it behind his ear, the silver hoops clinklightly. He smiles before pressing his forehead on your shoulder.
“Might keep it then,” he said after a while.
You take care of him this time, holding him close, till you end up nose to nose. There’s less to rinse off, the water makes your skin tacky.
“Yoongi -”
“Just want to kiss you, can I?”
The shower runs in a steady pelt, you’re flustered, like he is. You don’t answer because it’s not something he should need to ask. You touch your nose with his, it feels awkward, only for a second until he tugs you close, closer. Your legs adjust, it’s intimate, all too familiar. His breath is warm against you, his hand hovering on the side of your face, on the nape of your neck, his touch brings out a sigh. It’s gentle, as Yoongi always is. Timidly, your hand reaches for his free one, sliding fingers along the spaces, curling your fingertips over his knuckles. You taste the mild peppermint from the tea he had earlier, yours eyes fluttering close. His tongue licks into your mouth, encouraging a gasp from your lips, the kiss is wet and slow and intoxicating. Your hands hold his sides now, fingers on the tense muscles of his back, not quite close enough to placate the desire that lances through you. Yoongi’s always been a good kisser, attentive to your reactions, his lips are soft, his tongue feels too good, far too good that you’re dizzy in seconds.
“Ah,” he sighs, wincing suddenly.
You remembered that you were both cramped on tiny stools. The water cascades along the wall, your skin is pebbled with goosebumps, he shivers a little when you nip at his bottom lip.
“Yoongi,” you said, brushing your lips together, you say his name against his mouth like that.
“It’s late. You need to sleep, you’re tired.”
He nods, but doesn’t move.
“Yoongi…”
Another kiss, lingering on the corner of your mouth.
“Okay.”
-
“What’s that?”
Daylight breaks through the slits in the blinds, Yoongi wanders in, white long sleeve shirt wrinkled, black slacks, hems dragging on the floor. His hair sticks up cutely at the back, a cow-lick that bounces as he traverses the space.
“A bookshelf,” you replied, face warm because he was meant to wake up to it already built, “your birthday present.”
It arrived a little late this year. You were in Gangnam right after the snow cleared. Nearly lost between the aisles, you perused them with no goal in particular, simply to restock the reed diffusers and get new pillows, maybe a new towel while you’re at it. A store clerk maintained a safe distance, her smile small, Do you need any help? You think about it, about the growing collection of books that Yoongi has piled into uneasy towers, threatening to collapse at any second. Do you have any furniture, like bookshelves?
Luckily, you had the first delivery slot, right as the sun drips orange outside and Yoongi slumbers peacefully in the darkened room. The porters came, you chatted for a while, observing that there are more parts coming in than expected. They reassured you that all that was needed was a screwdriver and another person for assembly. Sliding the parts out of the boxes, you worked diligently so that Holly wasn’t startled from where he slept. You stumbled on your hoodie once, hitting your knee against the corner of the coffee table. It wasn’t too arduous after.
“A bookshelf?”
Crouching behind you, he slides his hands through, hugging you close, his arms resting over your crossed legs loosely.
“Yoongi, wait, I’m sweaty -”
But he brushes your hair away, exposing the back of your neck, pressing a kiss there. His chin tucks your shoulder, he’s warm in the way he is right after he wakes up.
“When was this brought in?”
You sighed, setting down the allen key, “it was meant to be brought in beforethe ninth.”
Holly pads into the living room, his soft brown curls like spun gold in the light. He watches the pair of you, tilting his head, his dark eyes probably tired of witnessing your DIY endeavours for the better part of the morning. Yoongi scratches that spot by Holly’s tummy, encouraged as he twists on his back, his belly concealed faintly by a fine smattering of fur. You coo at him, grazing your nail under his chin, till he squirms away from an overload of attention from you both.
“Have you been doing this since this morning?”
You shrug, “it’s meant to be built by two people but I wanted to surprise you.”
“I know,” he said, followed by a small chuckle, “but I like building furniture.”
It was your turn to laugh, kissing the side of his neck, liking the way he gives access, his head falling to the side as you press your lips, slow and soft.
“I’ll make us something to eat,” he offers, in between kissing you, “give you some energy if you really want it to build it by yourself.”
You bite his bottom lip, “it’s just the middle shelf left.”
“Okay,” he replied, kissing you again, “I’ll be back to help.”
He does end up helping you out, and just like that, you’re being taken cared of again. With the shelves slotted nicely, the books appear, side by side, in no particular order. Slim paperbacks, heftier volumes, non-fiction hard bounds, dog-eared copies from his youth. Some books are yours, aged yellow from being kept by the window sill in the bedroom. The stories you’ve consumed in the past two years finally have a home. Yoongi brushes his knuckle along your cheek, his way of saying Thank you.
“It looks nice,” he remarks.
“It helps you see how much you’ve read,” you replied, smiling because he kisses your cheek, “and you also said that you wanted to read more, so…”
“I said that?”
“Months ago.”
Yoongi had been a voracious reader, unafraid to annotate passages of text, things that he wanted as reminders, thoughts, muttering how if he had more time, he could be better and read more. When things slowed, he did, and the books became mini towers dotted around the apartment. Holly collided his snout against a stack at some point, spurring you into action.
“Then you said you might need a bookshelf.”
It’s like this. How when Yoongi says things, you absorb them, drinking his words to easily, accustomed to the taste of him. And, after all these years, the shape of your heart looks awfully like him most times. You tug at the hem of his sleeve, swaying his arm. He says your name fondly, mumbled in that silky timbre.
“You spoil me, you know that?”
You rolled your eyes, running your finger along the spines of the books immediately in front.
“You know, I have the biggest crush on you.”
You tilt your head to see his lips breaking out into a smile, “yah, our anniversary is coming up soon.”
“I know but that doesn’t take away from that the fact that I still have a huge crush on you, is that okay?”
Another laugh, his shy eyes blinking rapidly while his tongue ran over his lip, “I was the one who confessed, though.”
“I gave you a hard time, I liked you from the start.”
He gapes at that, “I confessed at the bus stop in the rain.”
You shrugged, “it was very romantic, very you.”
He shakes his head, launching his fingers, jabbing at your sides, “yah, I was scared out of my mind that you didn’t feel the same!”
You jump away, laughing loudly, “don’t - stop! Don’t you dare!” You warned, trying (and failing) to keep your distance, but your backed onto the couch. Yoongi laughs with you, ruthless even when playful. You don’t mind, it’s a lost battle where you’re breathless, giggling as he inevitably cages you, resulting in a wet kiss on the crook of your neck.
“I forgot how ticklish you were,” he said, peppering kiss along your jawline. And there it is, that latent arousal sneaking up on you. 1PM, still in the clothes you slept in, Yoongi barefaced, gorgeous in the natural light. He kisses and kisses, fingers finding skin too easily.
“Are you leaving later?” You asked, almost succeeding in dragging his shirt off if not for his impatience. Your limbs clash, you both yelp as your elbows collide, the bones hitting in a funny way. But it ends in laughter, messy kisses, and your foreheads pressed together. Your bodies sink onto he leather of the couch, your legs hitching up and over his hips.
“No,” he answers, pulling back, “nothing on today.”
He says this alarmingly quickly, eager like you, lips finding each others in soft, sighing kisses. At a point, you lean back, studying his face. In the very beginning, the tone was decidedly awkward. Before, there wasn’t any time, he was always away, always elsewhere. It made you question whether it could work. Then, the months stretched into years until the truth showed itself without prompt.
Was it always there?
He catches you staring and some part of you thinks he knows what you’re thinking too because he leans forward. The decision falls on the positive. In some way or another, whether you acknowledged it or not, it wasn’t something you could stop anyway.
Yoongi kisses that space below your ear, you sigh, entirely satisfied over a small gesture.
“Bed?”
“We need to eat, you need to eat,” you mumbled, distracted by his caresses, taking little to tumble into this happiness laced pleasure.
“Rather eat something else,” he said, drawing a laugh out of you.
“Wow, you’re an animal.”
He shrugs, flustered for all but three seconds before tilting your chin up, “What? I’m being honest.”
“Yeah?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck. He nods, all to easily, you think. His eyes, whether loving, teasing, or even when they get shy and stray, they’re always on you. It makes you giddy.
“I guess that I do deserve your honesty,” you concede, kissing him back.
He sighs, as if to scold, “you do. And more.”
You cling onto him more, “I know. You make it hard for me to forget.”
And because you’re as bad at each other in a sense that you could never say no, you smile into the kiss, moaning softly when he gets closer, adding weight and pressure. You tumble, yielding to him as he does to you and it’s easy, so easy.
Later, in the stillness of the evening, you’ll fall asleep satiated, hands twined until one or the other stirs. And when morning comes, you see that the wall in the living room is finally occupied by the bookshelf you built together, see him play with Holly, then cook you something before he leaves.
You think that there’s nothing better than that.
There’s nothing better than exchanging eager kisses with someone you love on a worn, leather couch as the sun filters through. Or how there’s nothing like the feel of his hand over yours. Or the fact that it’s still nice, as nice as the beginning, made even nicer with the years behind you and the prospect of the ones ahead.
And when he comes back, tired but happy, you’ll have that glass of wine while soaking in the bath, reminiscing about memories that seemed to occur just yesterday. Then, he’ll ask you about the future, as often does these days. Of course, he’ll grow shy, go all pink then red, but it’s alright because you’re secure and have that connection together, so the promises come effortlessly.
Blink And You’ll Miss It. (m) | ONE SHOT | JEON JUNGKOOK, 13.3k
Pairing(s):Reader x Jungkook
Summary:Jungkook is just trying to do his job by bailing you out (on top of being a busy attorney in the city) but you seem to be hell-bent on making that ten-times harder for him. Street racers aren’t known to be slow, in fact, you have the reputation of ‘blink and you’ll miss her,’ so what’s the deal?
Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language;smut (fem-reader; unprotected sex, specifically unprotected sex in a car; riding; penetrative sex; a dash of dirty talk; multiple orgasms; essentially porn with a hint of plot ha); police officer Namjoon + Vmin as street racers; I have no idea about how the bailing out system works, it’s simply a tool to facilitate bickering; this (despite the visuals from the wip) has very little to do with street-racing lmao; minor traffic accident for the reader tho, dw tho JK is v attentive; (this fic also showcases my growing affection for parentheses :]) fluff; non-idol!AU - Lawyer/Attorney!Jungkook (I will never tire of writing Jungkook in this role) x Street Racer! Reader
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-
Jungkook is naive and a tad twitchy the first time he comes to the station with his supervising attorney. There are words that fly over his head, instructions disguised as sentences that run off in a spool.
Paperwork is sacred. File everything, even the things you think are unimportant. Drill that in your skull, Jeon. You can cut corners once you’ve finally found your footing, till then, grovel.
“Yes sir,” he answers, dodging the people who were the overflow in the crowded sea. Although he wonders if the advice is misplaced, giving him a dreaded knot in his stomach that he was going to do this for longer than he had anticipated.
The police station looks like any other. It’s cramped, sequestered between two decrepit buildings, guarded by electrical poles with lone electrical wires that were frayed at the ends. The walls, once white, were now streaked with grime from inner city pollution. Seoul is only shiny from afar (or above). The glass doors are cut into with stickers that read ‘Yongsan-gu Police Station.’ It’s busy, even on a weekday. The scent of stale coffee and cigarette smoke permeate the air as the doors come together again in a jagged drag.
Jungkook follows his superior through the maze of cubicles, steals a glance at the officers pre-occupied with their own matters. They stop in front of one wearing glasses, his frowning mouth flanked by dimples.
“Kim.”
“Mr. Choi.”
Awaiting instructions, Jungkook sees that the officer’s name is Kim Namjoon. The lanyard is tangled up, the letters cracked severely. There’s a paper cup of tea or something other than coffee by his elbow. His desk, speckled like the shell of a quail egg, is stained irreparably.
“Busy night?”
Jungkook hadn’t spoken a word, content in hanging back. Namjoon flips through worn papers clipped on a beaten clipboard. Jungkook sees a sticker of a burlesque dancer at the back, her huge breasts covered only by a sticker with tassels placed on her nipples. For a moment, Namjoon withholds his comments, running the end of a pen down the narrow columns.
“Not too much, more of the usual. I have a couple of drunkards… a shoplifter from a 7/11.”
“She here?”
Namjoon nods, canting his head to the side. The cell is not too far away, Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge the individuals inside. The heavy hand of his mentor shoves him forward, the burlesque dancer’s face seemed to be scratched out and in place of the clawed out face was a hastily drawn smile with crosses for eyes. Fitting. Jungkook doesn’t answer for himself, he usually doesn’t.
“Good - alright, I’ll see you tomorrow for the hearing, Jeon.”
Jungkook’s heart began to pummel against his ribcage, he was going to be alone. Used to working in a team, even if he was surrounded by paralegals or those more junior, Jungkook was never tasked to navigate a case on his own. That was the whole point of joining the attorney side of things rather than becoming a prosecutor. There’s more to fall back on, the blame is evened out. He doesn’t know why he’s so concerned, it’s just sorting bail for a petty speeding offence.
“Yes sir,” he answers.
Namjoon looks at him like he’s out of place. It’s a slow, deliberate observation from his pristine suit and clenched fists on his briefcase. Jungkook feels out of place in this weather-beaten concrete box in the heart of the busiest corner of Seoul. The pang in his chest was in the same frequency as the phrase I miss my office and complimentary coffee machine, I miss my million won view above Yeouido. He didn’t work his ass off in law school to be demoted to babysitting.
“The jailbird is waiting for you in that cell.”
Namjoon doesn’t point to the cell he talks of, sliding the clipboard to a slit by the file box. Jungkook awaits further instruction, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“What are you waiting for? Go do that pro bono stuff that you guys love parading around like charity.”
Pro bono is routine. All would-be associates have to go through it, and will continue to do so for as long as they are in the legal system. It’s a token of good will given freely, albeit done in haste - makes marketing yourself easier. It’s like a billboard that announces Hey, look at me! I haven’t fallen prey to corporate greed, I have compassion and empathy in spades! Commercial transactions were more… impersonal. Corporations hide behind complicated words, contracts, or agreements. Jungkook is familiar in that process, he is a cog in the giant wheel that holds the firm steady.
What he was here for wasn’t even for pro bono. In fact, he’d rather do that than spend a inordinate amount of time bailing you out for petty speeding offences.
In the corner of the shoebox station was a cell coated in a greasy film of grime, garnished with the usual suspects that deem committing crimes as recreational. He sees you with your legs outstretched on the bench, looking right at home. As he approached the metal bars, you barely give him any notice.
“Why are you in a cell?” He asked, trying (and failing) to bring out his writing instruments from the slots in his briefcase.
You shrugged, striding towards him and holding onto the metal bars loosely.
“They think I’d run away if they just sat me on one of those,” you replied, pointing casually to the row of occupied seats. An old man gives him a toothless grin, the bottle in his hand slanting to the floor, dripping amber coloured alcohol. He turns back to you, in time to swat your finger away from his lapel pin.
“Who are you? They usually send one of the other stiffs to come and get me,” you said.
Internally, Jungkook asks himself the same question with the addition of What are you doing here? He also doesn’t forget that you’ve grouped him as one of the ‘stiffs.’
“I’m here to fill out forms and pay your bail,” he said simply, tucking the latch of his briefcase closed.
He watches you sink back onto the bench, crossing your legs. For the first time, he takes in your ripped tights, worn denim shorts, and combat boots. Above, on your top half, is a muscle tee, its collar looking like was bitten by numerous critters. Probably an intentional design. You lay on your back, legs straightening, then scissoring. Jungkook scrapes the chair to slot by a small desk. There were several forms to fill before he could pay; he gets to work, crossing and circling with precision, writing small details, the ones he was told to note.
“Did my mother tell you to come here?”
He ignores your attempt at talking.
“Hello?”
He carries on ignoring you, dabbing the tip of his finger with his tongue in order to turn over the page. The print is small yet bearable, he bounces his leg rapidly.
“They must be thinking of promoting you then,” you said, pricking up his ears.
For a moment, he stops writing, his curiosity prodded sufficiently. Recently, he has been doing good, completing deadlines with ample time to spare. To date, he can’t think of anything he’s done to warrant this kind of treatment. Though he knew that your mother, a partner of the firm, favours him and spoke highly of him to your father - a leading prosecutor in the commercial branch.
When he meets you in the eye, you were smiling, amused.
“What?” He asked, crossing out an irrelevant option.
“They must be appointing you to executivelapdog.”
Jungkook finishes the form in no time, gritting his teeth, huffing his frustration out for good measure. You stand again, pushing your arms through the bars.
“You done?”
Jungkook wishes, but he retains his good habit of going over the pages one last time.
By Namjoon’s desk, Jungkook waits for his phonecall to finish. As the handset connects with the receiver, Namjoon takes his paper offering with all the necessary details for your freedom. He gets up, and Jungkook notes that he’s tall, built like what a policeman should be: sturdy and strong. The doors of the cell creak open in a tinny, grating scream. You step out, blowing a kiss to Namjoon, completed with a wink. His reply was a slam of the door shut, letting it judder in its frame.
“I’m not religious but I’m praying for you, Jeon,” he grumbles.
Jungkook nods, absentmindedly agreeing as he smoothes his tie down. He’s close to flouncing as he tries to catch up with you, but you’re out of the double doors, jogging towards a shiny red sport’s car with doors that open like a butterfly’s wing. He tries his best to look inside the snug interior but it was far too dark to make out any faces. Before you settle in, you wave back at him.
“See you next week!”
At that, he sighs and checks his phone for the nearest subway station.
-
Jungkookdoes see you the following week for a subsequent speeding offence.
Then the next.
Then one after that.
Then it becomes routine, Jungkook splitting his time between the forty-fifth floor of the law firm in Yeouido and Yongsan-gu police station. To date, it’s been three months of reckless driving and copious paperwork to wade through. It’s beginning to eat up on his actual job, so much so that he does feel like an executive lapdog.
One particular occasion, he happens to see you conversing with Namjoon sounding as amicable as one could manage given your uneasy relationship.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here again, kid. This is your fifth time this month.”
Leaning over his desk, you say your name again, stating that that was your preference instead of a generic moniker. Jungkook knew by now that Namjoon really meant it as a term of endearment. He sees your black skinny jeans, snug on your legs, everything you wore was tight fitting, leaving nothing else to imagine. Blinking, he stops himself, rubbing that spot on the bridge of his nose that didn’t need scratching.
“If you don’t want to pay the fine or spend time here, be a better criminal, simple as. For example: body in a trunk, don’t speed. The same goes for stolen goods, and keep your registration updated.” Namjoon stated, tapping furiously on the keyboard of his clunky laptop.
“Seriously, tell me more,” you pouted.
Jungkook makes his presence known, the top button of his collar he threads through for space to breathe. Namjoon ushers you to sit back where you were and you do so without much protest, eyeing Jungkook instead. Having no more patience due to a gruelling hearing, Jungkook spent the day plastered to his chair, struggling to stay alert through all that droning. The lights overhead does little to ease the benign throb in hi temples. He starts flicking through the forms.
“Cover your tattoo, you don’t want it in the surveillance,” he mumbles, in lieu of a greeting.
Jungkook remembers seeing it peek through a slit of your shirt when it rode up. It was discrete on your lower back and set nicely on your skin, if he had to admit. However, there was no reason for him, an attorney, to be checking police surveillance. He was actually looking over Namjoon’s shoulder that time as he was rifling through the CCTV footage in the neighbourhood. And there it was: a jittered image of you leaning, or rather bending over the hood of a car, talking to someone. It was pure coincidence that his eyes were drawn to the ink, even if it was pixellated. Or so he tells himself.
“So you looked?”
He bites his tongue at his amateur slip.
There’s a smugness in your voice; to him, it translates into a subtle feeling, a static sheath on his spine. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, this receptiveness. He catches himself entertaining more than small talk, engaging in this back-and-forth conversation with you.
Although, it might have something to do with the fact that the argument you had after bailing you out for the fifth time ended up with the both of you fucking in the back of his car.
“I have to.”
(Again, he really doesn’t.)
Besides, that was one time. He wasn’t sure if it was a moment of weakness or whether it was fated.
“Haven’t you seen it enough times though? Makes me think that you’re checking for your own pleasure.”
It’s early in the morning, around 2:41AM and Jungkook had a 9AM meeting. As he swiftly amends the necessary details, he feels the heat of your stare. He hazards a glance, finds you resting your chin on your threaded fingers, grinning. He tries to think how your argument escalated into the backseat, with you gasping against his mouth, his cock snug in your tight heat, and your fingers, twined in his hair. The windows were fogged up to the point of public indecency. The memory of the heat of your bodies pressed together, he couldn’t shake off for days after.
“I take silence as a yes by the way - do you like it?”
Jungkook does what he tries to do best these days: he ignores you. The headache becomes more prominent, taunting him: you’ll only get three hours of sleep, Jeon.
“Got it filled in recently, hurt like a bitch.”
Any hope for a clear mind or sharp focus drains into the street; he sighs. You were too near, he sees the gold chain around your neck, a slim accessory that can be easily missed if you weren’t paying attention.
“I mean that it’s a mark of identification and did you not listen to anything I said?”
That was his poor attempt at tactical deflection. And, seeing through it, he hears you chuckle to yourself. He remembers that too, in high definition focus. Right after you were both a panting mess at the back of his car, there was a moment where you smiled into the kiss, the same, burst of giggles as if that wasn’t a transgression on both of your parts.
“I heard you loud and clear.”
Finally, the form gets filled. Namjoon gives a customary wave as Jungkook bows politely, checking the time to be at around 3AM. He was a walking husk, his tailored suit is rigid against his body, his muscles aching for the solace of his bed. You both make it to the doors, the balmy summer air hits like a moistened cloud, making him unnecessarily annoyed.
After a few joyous seconds of silence, Jungkook notices that’s it due to the fact that the sound of your boots had come to a stop. He turns around to your face being lit up by your phone.
“What are you doing?”
You rest your weight on one leg. He follows the way your body shifts, his hands twitching because it recalls how they felt under his touch.
“Calling Jimin to drive out front.”
Jungkook knows now that Jimin was the driver of that red car. A feeling snags in his stomach, he hesitates to call it jealousy so he strides to where he’s parked his car. Before he passes you, he hears a mumbled ‘thanks.’
“For what?”
Your phone was put away now, your arms were crossed, “for coming to bail me out. I almost got away with it but Namjoon made sure that more than one cop was tailing me.”
Sighing, Jungkook doesn’t understand why you would resort to a life like this. He also knows that you have a law degree yourself, to which he thinks is squandered on your flagrant violation of the law.
“You need to do something else with your life.”
You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes, “did my mother tell you nag me?”
“That’s not the point, I’m saying that you need to grow up.”
“Why have you got a stick up your ass, Jungkook-sshi?” You retort, “you don’t have to act so high and mighty as if you’re my parent’s representative, it’ll give you premature wrinkles.”
Instinctively, Jungkook rests his fingertips on his forehead. It’s ridiculous, this side-job that he’s roped himself into. The normal hours for an attorney was enough to put a strain but to be travelling back and forth the city like this is depleting his personal finances because he couldn’t drive on three hours of sleep every time Namjoon called. It’s even more ridiculous that a part of him is grateful hearing you laugh at his actions. It reassured him that he hadn’t crossed the line with his words.
“I don’t have any,” he mumbles, frantically searching for an available taxi.
“I think you do, or at least you will from chasing after me every week. You frown while you drive.”
“I might think that you’re landing yourself in jail on purpose,” he said, before he could put a stop to it.
Damn this exhaustion turning him into this unrefined mess. He feels his cheeks bloom with warmth, the status of his taxi shows that he has another two (excruciating) minutes to wait.
“Is that so?”
Jungkook looks on at the empty street, willing with all his might for his ride to materialise. He makes a noncommittal sound, an attempt to gloss over his earlier remarks in a polite parry.
“It’s late - I can drop you off at yours so you don’t have to wait here.”
“No thanks,” he replied, getting a hold of himself, rejecting the instinct of his heart fluttering by clearing his throat.
You hummed, “right. I forgot you have lawyer-y things to do.”
The street stays empty, Yongsan-gu Police Station glows like a neon brick behind you both. Jungkook’s eyes trail up and down, unintentionally surveying you. Apparently, he wasn’t subtle in the slightest as you cock your head to the side.
“Why? Are you scared that I’ll bite?”
Jungkook inhaled deeply, not quite letting it go in the same breath. You edge towards him, he snaps his gaze elsewhere, at the convenience store that read in a patchy GS25,at the disconnected electrical wire that sways in the direction of the wind.
“We still haven’t talked about it.”
He glares at you, “there’s nothing to talk about.”
“How come? Do you think that was totally normal and part and parcel of -”
Jungkook decides to cut you off but his saving grace was a sleek, red car pulling up in the space. The butterfly door flings up, the interior is dark but Jungkook knew who was at the driver’s seat. You look at each other awkwardly, the difference was that he feels warm all over, chewing his bottom lip, a habit he sustained ever since he was young. Breaking the silence, you give him one last glance before walking towards the open door. He watches you lower yourself, tucking your knees slightly higher.
The taxi he requested awaits him but your window lowers. You fold your arms over the side, tilting your head. For a moment, Jungkook is awestruck, unable to stop himself from slowing this strides. The music playing inside has a heavy bass, the wind flicks your hair onto your face as the streetlamp gifts sets your skin aglow.
“Night.”
He clenched his jaw, snapping out of it.
“Stay out of trouble.”
-
Weekdays were brutal but that made the liquor taste like nectar. Long hours suck Jungkook’s soul up and out into the ether, leaving him less invincible and more human than he’d like. Not exactly a figure lauded in the law firm. Everyone expects perfection, and, like any other cog in the wheel, he delivers. Then,he comes to a bar afterwards (if fortunate) and recharges.
Yoongi tilts his head back, letting the amber whiskey glide into his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t get too drunk, wanting to walk home and enjoy the evening breeze. Something that he hasn’t experienced in a while.
“I mean this with as much affection as possible: you look like shit.”
Jungkook burst out laughing, ending it a little manically to the point where the bartender eyes him with concern. Yoongi, as if his mouth is pulled by a string, grimaces.
“What’s up? This can’t be about contract clauses.”
Jungkookistired, he shakes his head, blowing out his cheeks, “if you were to tell me the minute I finished the Suneungthat I’d end up beinga lackey to a street racer, I’d have ripped my exam paper to shreds.”
All those night poring over legal text books, memorising cases, oh, and the grovelling.The forced smiles at interviews, the constant barrage of emails. Although he’s compensated handsomely, he has yet to see the benefits of his new mattress, meant to aid him in experiencing top quality sleep. He keeps the receipt by the bedside table, preparing to moot the warranty.
(He keeps a lot of receipts.)
Yoongi chuckles, waving for another glass. The gentle murmur of the bar adds to the warmth of the lights. Jungkook could sleep here, like the protagonist in those movies, slumped over the oak bar, lamenting a life he could have had if he had chosen a less demanding career. A life in the countryside perhaps, where he’d get married young and tend to his family. Nothing about police stations, street racing, or bail-out forms that stack to the skies.
And certainly nothing about your eyes, your smile, the softness of your skin, your laugh -
He slaps his cheek, drawing another grimace from Yoongi.
“Look - if you don’t want to keep bailing her out, just say so. You’re taking years off your life, you look older than me.”
Jungkook wishes it were that simple. He wishes he could stop thinking about the alcove in the back of his car, he wishes he was able to stop the reel from playing back, the sounds of sighs and gasps, the desperation for your bodies to find that release. He can still smell the scent on your neck, sweet enough to stick.
“I don’t know hyung, her parents might eject me.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, “they can find someone else, Kook. It’s not the end of the world.”
Is it?
Would he really be content to bail himself out from coming to the police station every week and not see you?
These are questions he asks himself instead of pondering about depositions or contracts. That’s a fatal shift in perspective but he’s not thatconcerned. There are other firms, other responsibilities he could take.
Later, Yoongi was already swaying from the glasses of whiskey and Jungkook helps him into a taxi, making sure to sit him upright. He watches the taillights round the corner and begins his walk, his legs moving purposefully, covering distance.
-
Evening strolls were one of Jungkook’s ways of decompressing; besides, Seoul can be agreeable on foot. It’s not often that he can appreciate being an ant in its vast colony of workers.
The 7/11 he frequents is much the same, a neon fish tank in the murky expanse of the street. The drinks in the fridge greet him in uniform attendance. Other aisles hold former treasures, the grill is steaming sweet potatoes over coal. He thinks that the slushy dispenser looks pitiful when it’s not swarmed. Making a grab for a bottle of water, he chugs it with the enthusiasm of a relay racer in high school, his throat expanding as he grunts.
Outside, the air isn’t as suffocating, the alcohol finally drained out of his system following three visits to the toilet in the store. As his jacket is slung over his shoulder, he could be an office worker or an interviewee. The possibility of his role is further anonymised by other passers-by, their heads down, eyes to their phone screens. Here, Jungkook is simply a person.
Before he walks onto the larger street, a bright orange vehicle enters his peripheries. Feigning ignorance, he keeps walking, laughably lengthening his strides as if he could out pace the rumbling Mustang. In a comfortable crawl, much to his embarrassment, the window eventually recedes and despite him not stooping down to see, he knew who the driver was.
“Quick - get in!”
His blood thickens into a frozen moat, “what? Why?”
He succumbs to a stop, seeing you framed in the window waving frantically, beckoning him into your car.
“Just get in!”
“Fucks sake,” he groans.
At your insistence, he dives into the front seat as you manoeuvre into a tight corner, hands smoothing over the wheel as the engine revs obnoxiously loud for this part of the city. You accelerate and his back gets pressed to the seat, his organs depleting at the sudden change. The car peels into the road and you had the audacity to drive with one hand on the steering wheel while his own scrabbles for something to hold. He wrings his seatbelt, his heart lurching as the lights stretch out into neon streaks.
“Why did I have to get in so quickly?”
He doesn’t even recognise his own voice.
You take a moment to answer, guiding the hefty car in full pelt along the highway. He doesn’t even have the opportunity to comprehend Banpo Bridge and its beautiful light show because it’s a mess of colours. He was glad that he wasn’t drunk anymore.
“Didn’t want the car behind to wait.”
“What?”
He snaps his head back, taking into account the distance being covered. He could practically sense the blue and red lights of the police car emerging from the traffic and experience Namjoon’s rage, ready to use the clipboard as a weapon. Under no circumstances should he be found in this car, going at this speed, with you.
“Yeah,” you said, glancing at him briefly, smiling at his shell-shocked state. Moving his fingers, they settle by his side, his hands moulding on the leather of the seat.
“I’m really glad that this is funny to you.”
You purse your lips as if to appease, “it really is, thank you.”
Jungkook settles in the calm, and while fearful of the chase, he lets himself take in the details of your car. The interior is a garish orange with chrome accents. In his opinion, it’s a block of taffy.
“Do you have any idea how fast you’re going?”
He eyes the neon dashboard, gulping at the needle skewing too far into the higher numbers.
“Of course I do, but I’m not as obsessed with it as Namjoon.”
The engine purrs into full throttle, Jungkook’s nails dig into the seat even harder. You clear the bridge onto the highway, dodging other cars. His organs have not returned to their rightful place, he knows because he thinks he can actually feel the outline of his spleen against his back.
“Why do you keep doing this?”
He understands that the question has the potential of becoming accusatory but he doesn’t have the time to err on the side of caution when you were tearing up the streets. The car decelerates before you swerve it onto a wide shoulder, expertly gliding along the asphalt.
“Why do you practice law?”
Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh, “I asked you a question.”
“Just answer mine.”
Your reply comes with a deliberate foot on the gas and the slip of a curse from him as he tries to hold onto the sides without losing his grip. Was this a good time to depart from his secular beliefs?
“I like it,” he manages, his palms going all sweaty.
“Then I’m the same.”
It’s an underwhelming response. Yet he doesn’t have time to contest because you rammed your foot down, the needle bouncing sideways in response. Jungkook thinks of a litany of phrases, chanting them loudly in his mind. Whatever Higher Being above must have somemercy on him at this instance, from what he knows, religion can never be too overly subscribed. You swerve again,risking another offence and risking hislife in tandem.
“Seriously?”
(It’s not clear whether that was in reply to your answer or your current actions.)
“Mhm.”
“Then why go to law school?”
He’s breathing as if there’s an imaginary paper bag in front of his mouth. He doesn’t do well with speed. He doesn’t do well being around youto be frank. His heart races erratically, he recalls flashes of touch, sighs, and the fog of pleasure that rolled over you both, steaming up the interior of his Lexus.
“Careful - I might think that you want to get to know me.”
Maybe Jungkook does. Granted, the order of things were unconventional. It’s not everyday that fucking came beforecourting for him. But he’s done this for long enough, by that he means bailed you out enough times at the request of your parents for your conversations to be injected with something other than japes. So yes, he isedging the territory of courting, in the form of smuggling questions in offhanded remarks.
Thankfully, you slowed. And because Jungkook was raised to be reverent, he thinks -
Thank you God that I don’t believe in.
In a matter of minutes, you enter a basement parking that suspiciously looks like the one in his building. It’s even got the same dull grey colour, like the person responsible during its inception chose with their eyes closed as they ran their finger down the swatches. Importantly, it had the very same reflective signs and array of cars, unintentionally lined in their achromatic finishes. Black, grey, and silver. Jungkook could discern his own car - a Mercedes this time - tucked in the corner by the column that read ‘B7.’
“You…”
You turn to him, your necklace glinting from the low light, “you live here, right?”
He lets out the breath he’s been keeping hostage and pushes his hair back, his hand coming away a little damp. Astoundingly, you were unaffected reclining on your seat, waiting. Though, he had to concede that he got home in record time. The working part of his mind excitedly reminds him that he might be allowed to finish that episode of Street Dance Girls Fighter. Over the past week and a half,he’s been apportioning into measly fifteen minute stretches.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“Uh…”
You lift your shoulder, “if you haven’t got anything else to say apart from ‘uh,’ I guess I’ll see you then?”
Jungkook blinks at the fact that all his mind could come up with was a singular phrase of She’s so cool. He shakes his head, lifting the handle and stepping out. His legs are liquid, his bones taking their sweet time to re-form. Not wanting to make it obvious, he waits for you to drive off but your window retreats and this time, he stoops. The twinkle in your eye doesn’t fade, he thinks it’s his first time seeing it, but really, he’s always paid attention. He opens his mouth and you pre-empt it.
“I know - stay out of trouble.”
He waves that off, “I was gonna say Thanks.”
You snort and immediately raise the window. The car ejects exhaust, the orange exterior glows under the lights that border the ceiling. He leans back and watches you drive off.
And if Jungkook wasn’t so keen on suppressing it, he might have admitted that he walked into the elevator with a smile plastered to his face.
-
A minor (but significant) caveat of being bewitched by you in your Mustang that evening was that it was transient.
A consequence of all good things, Jungkook notes.
He groans at the sound of his phone piercing the tranquility of sleep. Blindly, he shoots his hand out, patting the expanse of his bed. He doesn’t even have to know who it was, mumbling a garbled greeting.
“Hello?”
“Jeon.”
“Mhm.”
It’s not even the fact that he now has staggered sleep, nor the fact that his eyes are plastered together from the crystals from his tear ducts. It’s the fact that he’s accepted these moonlight summons to the police station for sheets of paper any other legal assistant can do. Last week, he had a meeting with your mother, finding himself nodding at her while she explained her disapproval of your unruly ways. The call of justice managed to lure him into a false sense of duty. He squints at the bedside clock. Bright, red digital font informs him that it’s 3:39AM.
“You know why I’m calling,” Namjoon starts.
Jungkook could hear the usual clamour in the background, the well-timed drunken shouts, fights that broil but are abated. He squeezes his eyes shut and sees your silhouette on the spare seat, he forms the shape of your combat boots, outlines your jeans, the looseness of your top.
“Alright. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
He doesn’t even wait to say goodbye before hanging up. Raising himself to sit, he cricks his neck, mashing his shoulders which are permanently knotted due to burning the midnight oil these past months. Like a hypnotised duckling, he trails around his apartment taking what’s crucial (phone, cards, keys), beelining to the bathroom to brush his teeth, then splash his face with cold water.
In the mirror, he reprimands himself.
Who are you right now and what are you doing?
A tired version of him stares back.
Regrettably, he slinks off, checking his phone. His calendar is dotted with commitments in the shape of meetings, endless re-drafting of contract clauses, more meetings. These take up twelve to sixteen hours of his day, the rest, he devotes to bailing you out. It’s increasingly apparent that he’s putting up with more than what he initially signed up to do.
And for what?
The good graces of your mother and father?
The basement parking of his apartment building is devoid of activity. Anyone residing here operated on normal working hours, out from 7AM and back by 8PM. Jungkook yearns for that.
In the dark, he remembers that he forgot his pen so he grips the handle of the glove compartment. It hisses open, spewing out a crumpled bag of what looked like coffee beans. Attached was a paper tag populated by a neat, legible script.
To keep you awake, or whatever.
Jungkook was perplexed at the way his heart began to hammer against his ribs. He must be going mad to get flustered over Ethiopian coffee beans at 4AM in the morning. Shoving it back in and resuming his initial search, he comes up with a battered fountain pen hoping that there was ink left.
-
In a dream-like state, he walks into the police station, wincing at the luminosity of the cubed lighting. Namjoon doesn’t even acknowledge him anymore, taking to point to wherever you are.
But the alarming thing wasn’t the fact that two people were brawling or that someone was threatening to urinate on the floor. His stomach swoops at the sight of you pressing a wet cloth to your temple, parts of it shaded in pink.
A part of him he allows to worry whether you’re okay.
You don’t notice him yet, so he strides quickly, dropping to his knees and startling you. Maybe he was acting, maybe it was genuine concern, but the hard surface of the floor is where he finds himself, realising in the same second that he was probably too far gone. He lifts his hand, gently taking your chin so he can tilt it up. Abruptly, you lean back, clutching the ragged towel.
“Get off me.”
Jungkook huffs, standing up, “sorry for wanting to make sure nothing’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing.”
His eyes linger on the scratch on your cheek.
“Your head is bleeding and you have a gash on your cheek, is that nothing to you?”
“It was a stupid scrape, I underestimated the corner.”
Jungkook scrapes a chair nearby and swipes the forms already laid out by the spare seat next to you. He produces the pen he kept in the pocket of his jacket and scribbles the details. The toe of your boot nudges his shoe, he notes the bare skin of your leg as you were wearing denim shorts this time.
“You didn’t have to come,” you said, flourishing it with a scrunch your nose. A sick part of him translated that as cute.
“I’m missing the part where that’s an option for me,” he bites back, checking boxes, circling squares, writing out dates and going over them twice. A few seconds drag on, Jungkook sighs exasperatedly, scribbling out his mistake. It seems that his desire for proximity was superseded by the throbbing vein on his temple, pulsing at the frequency of I need sleep - I need sleep - I. Need. Sleep.
“Then stop helping me out,” you replied, a certain sharpness to your tone.
Sleep-deprivation releases a different beast in him, one that he can’t halt. He flips the page, scans the sentences as if he has never seen them before.
“You’re pro bono, I do this for free to advance my own selfish agenda. You’re just a line on my resumé.”
(A lie).
When he looks up, you had wiped the blood on your face, wringing out the towel fitfully.
“I told you that you didn’t have to come. They would have sent another person.”
Jungkook sighs, the email he received a couple of days back registers in his subconscious.
“You’ll be dealt with by another person anyway. I have a big case next month.”
“Who?” You asked, your tone signalling a retreat.
“Choi.”
The sole of your boot collides with the side of the chair, Namjoon shoots a disapproving look in your direction, which also includes him.
“Fuck. He’s such an ass.”
“Think he’s fine. Maybe he’ll be the one to straighten you out.”
Jungkook meets your gaze, absorbs the way you press your lips into a line. There are more boxes to fill out, he does them swiftly. He looks for signs of banter but you weren’t launching witty replies at him. Changing tactics, he pretends to review the sheets even though he knows the routine by now.
“Why is this so important to you anyway?”
“What’s it to you, stiff?”
He hasn’t heard that in a while. In a split-second decision, he lets his frustration colour his actions.
“Fine, if you’re gonna talk to me like that, good luck getting yourself bailed out.”
You slump on your seat, crossing your arms. Jungkook catches your wince.
“Fine. I don’t need you anyway.”
He scoffs, “good. I can finally get some rest.”
Jungkookwanted to leave, he really did. He had a ton of paperwork to wade through for a deposition and two affidavits to draft by 11AM. He wanted to do them, craving the normalcy and banality of routine. He missed the sting in his eyes as he scanned documents that read like the fine print for reams and reams, he missed being a real lawyer.
This police station, planted rather inconveniently in the busiest district of Seoul, demands parking pay for every half hour that wasn’t even worth a second of his time. Namjoon’s watchful gaze heats up his back like no other while you sit on the battered chair, clicking your heels like a lonesome Dorothy without her Toto. The responsibility makes his wooden legs move, his knees unlocking mechanically.
It’s only a couple of steps and he’ll be past the automatic doors with bubbled decals of ‘Yongsan-gu Police Station.’
In this journey, he passes the lolling bodies of drunkards, fretting first-offenders, then a suspicious looking loner with an overgrown beard and ash-streaked face.
Only a couple more steps.
But he stops.
It’s a categorical fact that he never makes it past the threshold without you by his side at the end of the night.
Goddamnit.
“Back so soon?”
Jungkook hands the stack of forms to the neighbouring officer, who receives it without much fuss. Namjoon doesn’t even hold back his smile as you both make it past the automatic doors.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
For the the first time, he manages to bring out a smile from you. He walks towards his car and you follow.
And you manage to return the favour.
“Why should I when you’re always here to bail me out?”
He hides his twitchy grin behind an absentminded brush of his top lip. The doors unlock, your phone is nowhere to be seen. Jungkook guesses that there won’t be any shiny red cars pulling up on the road.
“Do you think I enjoy coming here between 3AM and 4AM every other week?”
There isn’t anything malicious in his tone. It’s back to this easy rhythm you had built.
“Why did you come back then?”
He finished off the distance, taking a couple more seconds than normal because Mercedes’ fatal flaw (amongst other things) are its bias for longer snouts. Under the streetlamp, he scrutinises your injuries as if he could offer more than a superficial examination.
“Never mind, and come here - let me see that.”
You swat his hand away, irritated at his clumsy shot at resolution. He tries instead by opening your side of the door for you.
“Get in.”
“Why?”
Jungkook sighs, “don’t want the car behind to wait.”
You rolled your eyes, sliding down to your seat. He doesn’t move until he sees you snap the buckle in place.
Once on the road, Jungkook maintains a safe speed, following every rule and direction. You don’t assume the role of a backseat driver, allowing him to cruise in peace. He keeps the radio off and the concrete highways are lit up due to the muted lights of the interior. It’s understated, unlike your own orange taffy Mustang. He catches you staring at the glove compartment.
“I got it.”
You jolt, brushing it away, “finally.”
It’s hard not to smile; he chews on his bottom lip instead.
“How’d you smuggle that in?”
In the corner of his eyes, you shift, hands on your lap, “you’re the quite the zombie. You get this thing where your eyes go all wide when you’re focused. You don’t see much else. Was easy to sneak it in.”
Jungkook had dropped you off a couple of times in a sleep-deprived haze, you could have sneaked in a crowbar or a live animal, he’d be none the wiser.
The road gives way to familiar streets, the traffic has subsided offering little to no resistance. He drives up the curving road towards the emergency room entrance. You raise yourself up, nearly pressing your face against the window. It’s a neon tinged with red. There’s more activity, people in scrubs engaged in endless chatter.
“I told you that I’m fine.”
He parks in a vacant bay, switching off the engine. He surprises himself by reaching for you again, conscientiously missing the graze on your temple.
“You never said that. You said ‘get off me.’”
You don’t move away this time.
“Are you doing this to wipe your conscience,” you replied, staring at him intently. He feels his cheeks warm up from your undivided attention. Lifting his hand away, he feels strangely more exposed here as opposed to the glare of the police station. He exhales through his nose, grabbing his phone and keys, preparing to get out.
“Something like that.”
-
Jungkook wasn’t meant to get under your skin.
Jungkook was one of the stiffs.One who swans about in the forty-fifth floor of some tall skyscraper in Yeouido, rubbing shoulders with the legal elite.
If anything, he was just one of your mother’s tools at her disposal. And your father’s, indirectly.
You never thought you’d lose sleep over a fleeting tryst but that July evening meant more to you than you had anticipated (and that said a lot). That neverhappens. Arguments have their ends, but resolution doesn’t usually occur in the manner of handprints on the glass and gasping kisses contained in the cramped back seat of a mid-tier company car. You think that Jungkook was as stunned as you were, preferring to devolve into your superficial banter of half-teasing and mismatched gripes. Still, it would be criminal not to admit that the subsequent charges thereafter mighthave crept towards being deliberate, which, again, says a lot.
Jimin and Taehyung had never seen you surrender so effortlessly at the hands of the law enforcement, much to scowl of Namjoon. And if they had puzzled out your behaviour, they are either waiting for the right moment to harvest comedic fodder or are supportive friends.
It’s never the latter.
“It’s only going to take forty-five minutes,” the MRI technologist says to you as she reviews your position on the narrow stretcher-contraption. As a final step, she stretches a velcro band over your forehead restricting you further. The temporary hospital gown is airy, like wearing a piece of paper. Jungkook looks on, remaining as near as he could. Instinctively, you bite your tongue as the mouth of the MRI machine awaits to devour you. This wasn’t needed, you sustained a scratch. Surely, bodies were meant to withstand a little more.
“I’m right here.”
Jungkook leans over you, his brown eyes softened by the white hues of the room. You realise that you’re fidgeting your feet, curling and uncurling your toes. A nervous habit. You don’t get to reply as you’re abruptly shuttled into the gaping mouth of the MRI, the tight cylinder coming to life in static whirrs and what sounded like a trapped orchestra experiencing headwind.
“It’s okay,” Jungkook said from far off.
You hum to indicate you’re fine but the curious thing is that you feel a pair of hands enclose over your sock-covered feet (courtesy of the emergency room upon seeing your mesh tights and shivering stature). Jungkook’s hands were large and radiated enough warmth to introduce a sort of calm. It’s like that for the entire duration, Jungkook squeezing your feet together when he could sense you tensing up.
Throughout, you think that the sound of your heartbeat overtook the banging and the clanging of the machine’s symphony.
-
Jungkook experiences a shift.
On red alert, he half expects you to have him camp out of the police station for the next week but he doesn’t get a single call. His worries are tainted with irrationality, he lays awake staring at the ceiling of his bedroom in the dark. It’s an unnerving doldrum.
Is she mad at me?
He reasons with himself, like any good litigator would, trying to make sense of it all.
You should be glad that you’re getting a full night’s sleep for once.
His room is cold, he gets up, switches on the floor heating, then snuggles back in bed. His eyes close, he tries to adopt those sleeping techniques. First, comes the counting of sheep, but the addition of bleating by his overactive imagination throws him off. Next, he thinks he’s a piece of driftwood, carried by the lull of waves. It works for a while until he discovers that he can in fact make himself sea-sick. Finally, he comes up with a tried and true method, as perennial as time.
Contracts. Think of contracts. Clauses, the re-drafting of clauses, formatting and tweaking non-disclosure agreements, appendices. Lots and lots of fine details, like numbering, letters instead of Roman numerals.
The radio silence overpowers that.
Jungkook is awake and thinking of you.
He shoves his face onto his pillow, exhaling his frustration into the fibres. It might not be the end of the world but it sure seemed like it. His phone had been so quiet that he thought he’d turned it off. Snug in his hand, the screen lights up. No new notifications and no calls from Yongsan-gu Police Station.
Slipping it back under his pillow, Jungkook is desolate, if not, inconsolable.
-
“So he’s coming? For real?”
Jimin sits on the chair all wrong, like a plank, so there’s a triangular space offered by how straight his back is.
“Yeah,” you replied, taking the opportunity to slot your legs through, taking over two seats.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Namjoon said from across the room, sporting his usual frown.
You crane your head, smiling at him, “just say that you missed me.”
Jimin laughs, bowing his body like a cat, “don’t piss him off.”
It’s an unusual night given that Jimin is with you. The district police stations’ protocol was to split your team up while you all waited for bail. Underpinned by several motivations, you figured out eventually that to have you, Jimin, and Taehyung in one station was deemed as a ‘headache’ or a ‘maelstrom’ or, more affectionately, a ‘contained disaster.’ Police officers would rather tear out their hair than deal with the three of your never ending comments, request for better cell conditions, and petition for in-house entertainment.
“He seriously hasn’t quit yet? It’s been more than a couple of months.”
“He just doesn’t give up,” you said, finding it a little easier to smile these days at the mention of Jungkook or his tenacity.
Yongsan-gu Police Station has become somewhat of a second home to you these past few months. Racing around the city has developed into a more cumbersome pursuit, landing you here every other week. Jungkook, as dutiful as you would expect him to be, shows up without fail.
After your previous scrape, largely because of misjudging a corner, you decided to notget caught in order to nurse your woulds - literally and figuratively. You could handle being carted off to the station due to speeding offences, but not all bruised up like that. For the past week, you showed off by passing the border into Ilsan where you complied with every speed limit in the vicinity. Namjoon pulled away, content that you might be changing your ways, albiet in a selective manner. Out of Seoul, you weren’t his problem anyway.
“You’re doing this on purpose! You’re not someone who gets caught thisoften, Miss Blink-And-You’ll-Miss-Her.”
Jimin’s rational extrapolation threatens to make you laugh out of nervousness. You might have eased off on the gas despite his exasperated comments of Floor it! What are you doing! He pokes your side and you try to pinch his ribs, to no avail as he bends away, his blonde hair fanning on his forehead. The seats squeak to an annoying pitch. Namjoon slams his clipboard to instigate order, jolting the surrounding people, who sat up straighter, ruffling their feathers in submission.
“It’s been hard! They’ve been tailing me before I even hit fifty. How is that fair?”
Jimin looks at you with a kind of skepticism that you could only recall from childhood. Times when your mother tutted to no end after discovering that you stepped out of line.
“What’s fair is that you should stop doing this and ask him to hang out or something.”
A shadow looms over you suddenly, Namjoon’s stern expression is completed with a hand to his hips. There was a wad of forms, likely for Jungkook to handle later, in his left hand.
“You don’t seem to be following any of my advice.”
“What? Your whole ‘Follow the rules while breaking the law’ advice? Please tell me more.”
Jimin covers his face with his hands, laughing into his palm. You purse your lips, until a familiar silhouette enters through the double doors. Still in his suit, Jungkook strides in, his eyes landing on your contorted body, as you’re half perching on the chair like a gargoyle on the face of Notre Dame. Immediately, unfold and sit properly while Jimin guffaws and shoves at your shoulder. Namjoon catches your panicked factory reset and waves Jungkook over.
“Jeon! Come here,” he said, looking at you and Jimin accusingly, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”
Heat rises to your cheeks, you press your back against the plastic of the chair. Jimin jitters next to you, humming to goad.
Jungkook stops right in front, doing his routine of scraping a spare seat and grabbing the necessary forms to fill out. He produces a pen from the inner pocket and gives you a strained smile. You say nothing yet, suffering under Jimin’s intense scrutiny. It’s like that for a few torturous minutes until -
“Glad to see that you’re not hurt this time.”
Jimin bursts into unprompted giggles, you elbow him, nicking his side. He jumps to a vacant seat as Jungkook clears his throat. Your brain is in glorious technicolour, making reference to the fact that Jungkook is glad to see you not being hurt. Which obviously means that he’s glad to see you, period.
“Jimin,” he said.
You noticed that Jungkook’s filling out two forms simultaneously.
“Jungkook-sshi.”
More silence. You couldn’t even reply, too much time had elapsed. Namjoon observes your sudden change in demeanour, cocking his head to the side. You stay quiet for the rest of the time, simmering under the heat of your own paranoia. Jungkook gives you his attention sparingly, his eyes following your fidgeting. You’ve come to know that he has an unconscious habit of chewing on his bottom lip, making the mole beneath obvious.
-
With summer in full swing, the evening air is pleasant and appeased by an echo of the breeze. Jimin walks alongside you, thumbing down his phone. In the space of where your car was supposed to be was Jungkook’s own. Frantic, you’re met with his deadpan reply.
“It’s been towed.”
“Fuck,” you sighed.
Jimin is by the end of the street, rushing towards a matte-black car, its taillights flashing in red. You followed him, stopping dead in your tracks when you realised something amiss.
“What is this?”
The door opens as Jimin slides in, you bend down and see Taehyung’s wide smile, his face lit up by the dashboard. He stares at you with a frown.
“Can you please not talk to my Porsche like that? I just got her serviced and she’s been through a lot, they’ve been poking her for hours.”
When you make another attempt to speak, Taehyung interrupts you with a raise of his hand and a “Please.”
Your jaw drops at the predicament, “there’s only twoseats?”
Jimin nods, “yeah, good to know that your eyesight’s okay.”
You sneak a glance behind, Jungkook was on his phone, although he was walking towards your direction given that you hadn’t slid into a car that had no room for you at all.
“Just trying to help, you know, ‘speed’ things along,” Taehyung grins. You groaned, tempted to haul Jimin out as he was fiddling with the settings, testing out the lights. Instead, you find yourself rallying the most colourful words you could manage -
“You assho-”
“Aren’t you getting dropped off?”
Jungkook appears on time, taking in the situation, specifically how Taehyung revs the engine on purpose.
“Might have to take a taxi,” you muttered, crossing your arms and slamming Jimin’s door shut. The window rolls down, he folds himself over the frame, curiously scoping the way you’re stock still.
Jimin grins, waving in turn, “yeah, Mr. Jeon Jungkook can drive you, right?”
It takes all of your strength not to stick your tongue out in a childish display of frustration. Moments later, you and Jungkook watch as Taehyung drives off with Jimin in tow, the silence filtering back as the engine rumbles off into the distance.
-
Seoul glitters from the highway as Jungkook drives over a bridge. You keep your eyes straight ahead, feeling all sorts of things that made you finicky. You check his speed (tame), note that the interior of his car is finished with dashes of leather (understated luxury), and the strips of light following the smooth curves of the design (passé).
Very business like, very Jungkook altogether.
“You’ve been behaving.”
You can tell he’s cringing at his choice of words from the way his tone tails off in the end, punctuated by the clearing of his throat. Comfortable in these parameters, you run your fingertip over the grainy leather atop the dashboard.
“Aw, you missed me that much?”
Allowing yourself to look, he shrugs, driving with one hand as he creeps into more narrower roads.
“No. Actually, it felt like I was on vacation.”
You hum, “glad to have allowed that.”
He drives past electrical poles that slant oddly, 7/11’s and GS25’s on every other street. It’s a typical weekday evening, not even well into early dawn.
“Tell me something, ‘cause I’m curious as to why you were caught doing something so easily avoidable. I had to outline that you were running reds and not wearing a seatbelt?”
You resort to keeping quiet, debating on whether you should let it out. Jungkook waits, climbing up an incline.
Fuck it.
“‘Cause I wanted to see you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, fixating on the ivy waterfalls falling over grimy concrete walls outside.
“What? No, I’m being serious, I thought you were improving, well, if street racing wasn’t illegal -”
“Semantics,” you cut in, defending your love for the activity. Jungkook inhales sharply, as if to gather himself. He knits his brows, placing both hands on the steering wheel. You could tell that your building was near, he’s slowed to a speed appropriate for residential areas.
“Jungkook…”
The basement parking submerges the interior of his car in total darkness before your eyes adjust. He slots it in a vacant bay, the engine purrs as he reversed into the spot with practiced ease.
“So the reason why you’ve purposefully landed yourself in the police station is because you wanted to see me?”
The engine remains the only noise.
“Is that so hard to believe?” You asked, trailing your gaze along his features, a dangerous feat that taints the air, making it heavy, pressing up on your chest. You’re like a wound up coil, ready to spring. Jungkook switches off the engine, washing the interior in this pressure that continues to build. You slump back on the seat, staring at the concrete column, badly painted so that the letter ‘B’ for ‘basement’ was wonky. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even move.
“That’s what I said,” you huffed, “I got caught on purpose because I wanted to see you.”
Take the damn hint, Jeon.
(Jungkook doesn’t.)
“But you have my number, you could have called or something,” he mumbled.
You scoffed, “and say what?”
He begins this round of flustered laughter, shaking his head and tilting his head upwards, “I don’t -”
You shift so that you’re leaning over the centre console, “the only way I could see you this time is to get arrested. I made it happen because I wanted to see you, get it?”
And because he doesn’t say anything else, you make it a point to voice out more.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”
He clenches his jaw, tapping on a space on the side of his door, “stop that.”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what.”
“Whatever you’re doing.”
You don’t back down because even in the dark, you can make out a rosy bloom on his cheeks, “and what am Idoing?”
Jungkook emits another nervous laugh, “it was onenight.”
Faltering a little, you bear the excruciating silence, sniffing at his reply.
“I just -” he stars, you turn so that you could see him chewing on his bottom lip again, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either and I don’t know what to do about it, ah fuck, I’m must be crazy for saying this out loud.”
Things go so quiet that you think that he can hear how your heart is about to burst out of your ribcage.
“Really?” You asked, pulling forward. Jungkook doesn’t dive away from you this time.
“Yeah,” he admits.
And you’re both staring now, his gaze on your lips in the most unsubtle way possible. It doesn’t take a mind reader to know why neither of you moved.
But Jungkook suddenly surges forward, the curl of his finger and the pad of his thumb securing themselves on your chin. He tilts your head up and you inhale a shuddering breath, the distance shrinking close enough to sense the fan of his breath on your lips.
The initial contact sends a shiver along your spine, it’s slow and your mouths meet in a singular gasp over the centre. Jungkook’s hand slides to go over the nape of your neck, your body arching towards him as he slips his tongue from the part of your lips. You feel his other hand on your side, you go all lightheaded for a moment, allowing yourself to fall into the kiss, feeling his smile against your lips as you moaned softly.
“Just so you know, I don’t like you thatmuch,” you prefaced, in between pants. He chuckles, kissing you gently, offering a soothing hand on your back.
“Good, I don’t like you thatmuch either,” he whispered, his thumb running over your cheekbone.
“And -”
His fingers unbuttoning your shorts might have contributed to the slight brain fog. You shove your denim shorts down, left in your underwear. It was hard to focus on anything other than the physical, but you wade through it, wrapping your arms around his neck, getting close, closer.
“What - ”
“I don’t do that with just anyone,” you said, your skin growing hotter under Jungkook’s attention, biting his lip and sucking on it till you drew out that groan that made your thighs squeeze together in anticipation.
“Okay, fine. Good to know - ah, shit,” he breathes, clearly distracted by how you were clambering to his side, right over the console onto his lap. You grasp his chin to reel his attention in, grinding experimentally, your knees at his waist.
“I mean it.”
He leans forward, kissing you. It’s a cramped setting, not far off from that night when you were half tussling in the back of his Lexus, steaming up the windows, venting out an argument that you couldn’t remember what it was about in the first place.
“I know.”
You kiss insistently, fisting his shirt as he groans at the way you’re grinding over the front of his trousers, whimpering at the friction. You try to spread your thighs wider at the feel of his hard cock under the ridges of his clothing; it doesn’t help that every sense is heightened, the pressure of his hands framing your hips, the softness of his lips, the breathy sighs as you ground your soaked core over his crotch. The windows are already steaming up, you’re grasping at the headrest while Jungkook threads his fingers through your hair, exposing your neck.
“Is this a bad idea? This is a bad idea, right?” You babbled, panting at the way his mouth slides slow along your pulse, his tongue laving at a spot by your jaw that had you shivering.
“It’s a bad idea, yeah,” he concedes, continuing to drag his mouth up along your jugular, nipping on occasion, his other hand making sure that the rhythm of your hips doesn’t go as off-kilter as how you feel.
“Yeah,” you sighed, jerking in response as he sucks on your neck, hard enough for you to tremble. He comes up, brushing his mouth along yours, you slip your hand over his front, the rush of his shirt under your touch echoes in the space. Jungkook’s muscles are firm and you splay your hand on his chest, clumsily unbuttoning his shirt. He mutters your name, in spite of your kisses, t
Late. (m) | ONE SHOT | PARK JIMIN, JEON JUNGKOOK, 6.7k
Pairing(s): Reader x Jimin, Reader x Jungkook, Jungkook x Reader x Jimin
Summary:Sometimes, it can’t be helped that Jimin and Jungkook are late. It’s no one’s fault, really, since that’s what usually happens when all three of you are together anyway.
Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language, smut (fem-reader; oral (m-receiving) + feeble attempt at masturbation; hair-pulling; nipple play; slight exhibitionism; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; threesome); this is one of the ‘morning after’s’ I envisioned that follows up from ‘Hotel’;or it’s just another excuse for me to write a jikook x reader fic lol; fluff;idol!AU - established relationship.
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Sleep ladened eyes open to a room that is cloaked in artificial darkness due to the heavy, velvet curtains that border its walls. Realisation of your surroundings sneak up in jumbled puzzle pieces, wading through the fog of your thoughts.
A hotel room. Big, warm bed. Los Angeles.
Then comes your initial, proper examination: sore muscles, sticky skin, another person nearby.
You know it’s Jungkook beside you because he’s swung his leg over you, careless as to its weight on your own body. After you overcame the initial drag of sleep, you register the glaring asymmetry to your bed. Jungkook’s tattooed arm is over his face, his pinked chapped lips in your view with the silver ring that lay at an angle.
“Has hell frozen over? Where did he go?” You asked, sweeping your arm over the space where Jimin slept. Getting up early was a habit of the past and it surprised you more than anything that his side of the bed was cold.
“Morning run,” Jungkook mumbled, clattering his phone on the night stand.
“He goes on morning runs even here?”
The detail might have been lost on you if it was said last night.
Jungkook removes his leg, gently guiding you onto your side so that he could embrace you better. To compensate for the surge in heat, you kick off the comforter, backing up a bit till your ass brushes his half-hard cock.
“Didn’t get to go last night,” he replied, his voice gravelly and in dire need for him to clear his throat. Last night’s memory flares in your mind, their hands on your body, the groans and sighs, the particular satiation that you could only get by being with them.
“What time are you meant to be going for your schedule?”
Jungkook only sighs, broad palms and curious fingers traversing your body. It seems that, like you, he didn’t want to pierce through the comfortable haze that greeted you soon after you woke up. After all, their schedule is steadfast. Obligations were going nowhere but these moments behind close doors were few and far between.
“Dunno,” he muttered, his hands wandering over your body.
“Kook…”
His forthcoming response was the nudge of his hips as he says your name in a soft whisper.
“Wanna shower together?”
-
Jungkook’s careful fingers tangle in your still wet hair, his inked knuckles brushing past your peripheries. Your skin is soft yet pebbled with goosebumps as the ventilation fans through the room. Sat at the edge of the bed, you nudge his thighs apart. As you placed your cold hands over them, he hisses, a quick and discrete sound accompanied by his bared teeth.
“Sorry.”
He shakes his head as you looked up. The angle allows a generous view of his abdominal muscles which, when relaxed, are still defined in grooves and ridges. The difference now, albeit subtle, was that they were tense and rigid from anticipation. You shift because you remember them under your grip, contracting every time he moved.
“Jimin-sshi should be doing his final lap right now,” he muttered, his hand going lower to cup your chin.
“Nice of you think of that before you get your dick sucked,” you replied, blowing gently on his length. He twitches at the contact, the first brush of your lips on the tip earning another audible hiss that he pushed through his teeth.
“He’s missing out is all I’m saying,” he said, nonchalant.
Any prospect of his running commentary is promptly silenced by you taking his cock in your mouth. Soft, smooth, silken hardness is quickly coated in your saliva. You hum at the taste, slackening your jaw in preparation for that delicious ache you’ll feel when he finally moves. Securing your hands on his narrow hips, you squeeze your thighs as his muscles flexed, lifting your head so that his cock bobs against his lower abdomen.
“Ah shit,” he sighed, followed by a shaky moan while you licked a fat stripe from the base of his cock, taking care to tentatively sweep the tip of your tongue over his balls before coming up to rub your lip at the weeping head. The grip on your hair increases, measured tugs at the root. You continue to lap at the head, rewarded by soft puff of breath from above. Making a tight circle with your fingers, you angle his cock, glancing up at his flushed face as you swirled your tongue over the head in languid circles, dipping it on the slit while pearls of pre-cum pool at your tastebuds.
“Fuck, ah - you want me to last or not?”
Batting your eyelashes at him, you sensed that he was less eager to abstain as all he wanted was to fuck your mouth senseless. Jungkook was never one to admit his shortcomings, that much you knew, but his vie for self-control didn’t stop you from placing your hands flat on his thighs for purchase, widening your mouth so you could dip down, saliva running from your lips onto his length. The first thrust of his hips was accompanied by his hand closing over the nape of your neck, you moaned as the even pressure allowed your lips to hit the base, the air momentarily depleting as you hollowed out your cheeks. It’s a tight hold that you constructed and it’s effect was a delightful chorus of moans that made you wiggle your hips, pussy dripping and clenching around nothing.
“Ah,ssss… shit,” he hissed, and you push up, letting his cock leave your mouth in a wet pop, lips skating along the glistening length, your cheek and chin getting most of it.
You’re panting but it doesn’t stop you from taking him again, beginning a quick pace now that your jaw is looser, bobbing your head as you concentrated on sucking the tip before diving all the way down again. Nails impress on your skin, you do the same in places where it can’t be seen. Jungkook bucks his hips again as you brace yourself against him.
You arched your back, thinking that you could feel Jimin’s hands on your skin, then his voice telling you to go down deeper, throat tightening over his throbbing cock. Jungkook’s hand presses down on your neck and you moaned at the encouragement, the hot and flithy drag of your tongue unrelenting. Jerky thrusts of his hips were becoming frequent and you come up for air, lungs just about burning but you keep the contact, rubbing the weeping tip on your lips, slick with cum and saliva. Through hazy eyes, you see the heavy contracting of his chest, the tip of his tongue resting on the side of his mouth, blown pupils only on you.
“I fucking love your mouth,” he babbled, and you press a soft kiss over the head. He hisses again, baring teeth, the small mole below his lip stretching slightly.
“Mm,” you hummed, smiling in spite of being in serious need of the rough strokes that had your throat constricting.
Jungkook curled his bottom lip, the slim silver ring springing to a different direction. In his eyes was a split second decision aided by you sucking on the tip for emphasis. You’re rewarded with a sensitive twitch of his muscles and the tick of his hips upwards. He pushes and you adjust yourself, body straightening immediately. But it’s too careful, so you tap at his thigh prompting him.
It works.
His fingers twist themselves in your hair and his thrusts go from jerky to to full on strokes. The change had you moaning over his length, thoroughly coated in spit. The angle of his hips had you grabbing at the sheets while your lips stretched to accommodate. It’s heaven to hear Jungkook moan, it’s such a distinct sound, a contradiction of sorts when paired with a strained grunt while you snuck a hand between your legs, fingers spreading your wetness along your slit. At the first contact, you almost lose rhythm, caught up in the throb of your pussy, your clit stiff and in need of attention.
Jungkook senses the slight break and amps up his thrusting, the struggle for air is apparent as more saliva and cum mix together from the obscene slide of your mouth over his cock. Abandoning on pleasuring yourself, you signal for him to go faster and he does, almost making you choke on the deep and rough strokes. The flare on your scalp is evident as he grips your hair to aid him, your eyes are closed, legs quivering at the growing wetness between, moaning softly as he grunts, the snap of his hips causing you to drool. The scent of him, fresh from the shower, mixes with this addictive taste, his speed taking on an inconsistent rhythm.
“Ah, fuck… fuck” he groans, you hold it, forgoing air as he chases that peak, the staggered upward thrust had the head scraping against the back of your throat and he keeps you there. Eyes screwing shut, tears pricking suddenly, you feel the ropes of cum spurt, his cock pulsing while spit slick. Pulling back, you hold his cock steady, licking the tip, watching as Jungkook’s head is thrown back, abdomen rigid as you lap up his cum, high off his display of ecstasy. After drawing ragged breaths to recover, he soothes the harshness of his grip on you by rubbing the sore places with gentle fingers.
The latch to the door unlocks.
You hold Jungkook’s cock at the base, sliding your parted lips over it, tongue snaking out in elaborate laps. Above, he groaned, twining his fingers in your hair, a tug that signalled for you to slow but you were too busy making a mess. Jimin strides in, face mostly concealed by a cap and mask. Buzzed, you kiss along Jungkook’s stomach, bringing out soft hisses as your skin brushes his cock.
“Morning to you too,” Jimin said, quickly disappearing into the bathroom.
Water runs and echoes past the open door, a flash of black comes through and settles behind you. Jimin’s hand comes over where Jungkook’s own was placed on your head. It’s subtle but the force of his both hands on you had you diving your lips down, deeper until Jungkook’s cock is firmly enclosed in the wet cavern of your mouth. Your nails dig crescents into the skin this hips, hard enough to press on bone.
“Agh, fuck,” he gasped, his hips shooting up while your throat tightened automatically. You moaned around him as Jimin ran his fingers along your slit, the cold contact made your hips jerk, the blunt intrusion finding home in your wet folds. He comes closer, closer till you feel the brush of his jacket on the skin of your back.
“So wet already, hm? How many times did you cum?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper as his lips caught your earlobe.
“Not yet”, you breathed, releasing Jungkook’s cock from your mouth. You rubbed your open palm over his length. It’s so sticky that each kiss you gave sounded wet, coming away with saliva mixed with cum.
“Jungkookie, you’re slacking.”
You couldn’t help but laugh slightly as Jungkook’s muscles twitched from your lips settling over the sensitive head.
“Y-you didn’t go for a longer run this morning, hyung.”
Jimin’s fingers unfurl, catching the swollen nub of your clit. He gives it a slight nudge and you push your hips back, inviting his fingers to go in deeper only from him to withdraw them.
“Jimin,” you whined, knees scraping on the carpet floor as you widened your legs, pussy dripping past your folds and staining it to a darker shade. He kisses your shoulder, then the space on your neck to placate you.
“You guys used all of the shampoo.”
Jungkook helps you up so you could settle on his lap. You sigh as his cock rests on your lower stomach, still rock hard and heavy.
“I’ve got to wash up too,” Jimin said, swiping your hair away so he could kiss the nape of your neck. The soft contact had you wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s shoulders, which rippled and flexed as he held your hips. You were pliant in their hands, eyes fluttering shut as you kissed Jungkook’s neck, hungry for more contact. Smooth, warm skin along the surface of your tongue, the mole on the side the shade of chocolate chips in the muted light.
“Ah they were meant to replace them,” Jungkook said.
“Not with the Do Not Disturb sign at the door,” Jimin murmured, using the finger that was in your pussy to trail up your spine. It leaves a slick trail, wet and smooth along your back. You moaned against Jungkook’s lips, kissing the mole beneath, grinding at anything to relieve the ache.
“Can’t have anyone walking in while we’re in the middle of this,” you said, craning your head, implicitly asking for a kiss.
Jimin grinned, slotting his mouth over yours as he gently bracketed your throat with his hand. Jungkook mouth suckles on the base of your neck, the wet slide of his tongue compensating for how his teeth was set on your skin previously. It’s a never-ending cycle of touch, kisses, and warmth. All of which culminated between your legs, positively wet, the lewd sopping kind that renders attempts to contain it in vain.
“Let me wash up,” Jimin adds, pulling away, his touch lingering at the small of your back.
Jungkook suddenly stands up, carrying you and walking over to the console. Occupied by hotel stationery and half drunk bottles of water, you sit with your legs spread and raised, cool air comes over your exposed pussy as Jimin enters the bathroom to shower. This time, he leaves the door open too.
“Wish I could stay here for longer,” Jungkook muttered, kissing you again as he tore a foiled packet. Nearby, the water runs in full pelt, it fills your ears as you edged yourself closer, hands curling over the wood, shoulder blades resting against the wall.
“Stay where longer?” You asked, grinning at the instant arch of his brow.
He wets his lips, tugging the condom down,
“Here.”
The air is filled by your mutual sigh as he sinks his cock in your pussy, bottoming out to an audible, wet squelch.
“Fuck,” you gasped, right into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip and rewarded by a soft grunt, his arms hooking under your legs, hiking them up and spreading you wide. A hot wave washed over you, strained in this position, the console angling back from the way his thighs smacked against the hard surface.
“Agh, shit,” he grunted, searching for your mouth against since you had dipped your head down, bewildered at how good it felt even from the outset.
“Jungkook… ah fuck,” you moaned, arms winding over his neck into a stringent chokehold, teeth clashing against his as you angled your hips, tightening around his length in pulses. Words escape you both as he began to move, easy thrusts, the kind that glosses the burn of the stretch, his scent wrapping around you in a shroud, the scent of soap and something else, exacerbated by the heat of his body.
“Fucking hell - shit,” he gasped, your hands fly down to steady yourself, fingers grasping at the edge of the console, bothered by the lack of available surface.
They were always editing themselves to appear amiable, clean cut. But there was much to be desired with the way Jungkook swears - the way the vowels form into its vulgar ends. His incidental lisp melts away, bolstered by the baring of his teeth and hardening of his muscles, each movement deliberate and impactful. With Jimin, his voice becomes authoritative despite softening, evolving into a deeper timbre, an air of smugness accompanying them. They get spoken to your ear, your skin, whispered, grunted or sighed, So fucking tight… ah fuck, so good. The effect is the same, you get light-headed from the praise presented in a filthy delivery.
Your thighs shudder, a futile attempt to shut not out of discomfort but shock at how sensitised your were. Jungkook supports your lower back, curling his inked arm, somehow managing to keep you bolted in place, driving his hips down, his cock hitting at his desired angle. It prompts more wetness to coat your folds, enough for the new wave to be driven out as he draws back, sticky strands at the base of his cock in a lewd tether. When you look up, you take in the freshly trimmed hair, fanning evenly over his brow, the silver bar glinting between darkened strands, a concentrated face, focused entirely on pleasure.
“Miss it,” you said, thinking out loud.
The pace at which they changed their hair was frantic at most, the usual method being bleaching it to the lightest possible colour and darkening as the hair stylists saw fit. Recently, their preference for natural hair colour took precedent and has since remained that way. But while Jimin has opted for lengthier locks, Jungkook has cropped his hair to a more boyish style, abandoning the shoulder-length affair. It robbed you of any morsel of surface area to tug, unfair given that you couldn’t even leave bite marks anywhere on exposed skin.
And given that they wore next to nothing for the concert (a moot point according to them), this was a severecurtailment.
“Hm?”
“Your hair - when it was long.”
There’s a flicker of smirk there, the lip ring shines from your shared spit, his rosy lips a deeper shade from how he was gnawing it earlier.
“Thought it was too long for you, mn?”
“No. I miss it… ah,” you gasped, accepting the thrust of his cock and massaging the nape of his neck for emphasis.
“Was a nightmare to have,” he murmured, skating the tip of his nose along your jaw, the brush of his lips on your cheek inciting shivers.
Jungkook’s admission hardly makes a dent on your personal views: the pony tail would forever be superior in aesthetic. Tied up or left alone, those long tresses paired with the baby hairs on his hairline had you confused on whether to coo or pay attention to the lust that took hold in the pit of your belly. Deciding on a diplomatic means of resolving the tension, you would make it a point to compliment him, saying it softly in bed while tangled up in Jimin’s embrace (who would take to the shower first before all else, lest his motivations leave him entirely).
You look so cute, Kook.
It’s followed by a soft kiss, the experimental tug at the nape where you would tug the hairs at the root. He would groan, a half-hearted attempt to conceal the elation he felt at the compliment.
Ah, stop.
And you and Jimin would laugh, seeing right through it.
“You looked cute,” you replied, breath stuttering as he slowed his thrusts, going for longer, deeper strokes. He makes a noise of complaint, a subtle huff so you lean your head back, surveying his face. Silver accents on tan skin, deep flush under the gloss of his lips. Jungkook’s large eyes blink slowly, an unfocused glaze zeroing on your lips.
“You wanted it more than I did,” he smiled, bursts of exhales signalling a runaway laugh. Your fingers reach up, unfurl on his shoulders, easing the tension of being cramped and folded in half, raking them on the shorn parts at the back of his head.
“’Sides, I think I look better now,” he mused, adjusting and leaning back, his tense abdomen in show. You bite your lip as the full picture of him comes to view, flushed everywhere on his skin, rose ascending along the column of his neck, the jut of his jaw is prominent.
“You always look better - good,” you sighed, hips raising as his hands took your waist. It doesn’t escape you how his gaze is affixed to where you’re connected.
“Do I?”
You grinned, liking this side of him. It’s not often that Jungkook returns the compliment, opting to brushing it off like it’s no big deal. Appreciating him, you see the dark ink on his arm, more cohesive now that the designs are mostly filled and the sculpture of his muscles somehow managing to animate them with each flex.
The TV judders against its mount, Jungkook keeps snapping his hips, pressing you against his chest, sweat making skin slippery, mouths hungry and gasping for each other.
“Ten fucking days, we have to quarantine,” he said, out of the blue.
Ah.
It was nearing the end the LA trip and while all three of you had a harder time being apart from each other, Jungkook was the most vocal about it.
“Uhn…fuck,” you gasped, bare skin chafing on the lacquered surface of the table. It shudders with each thrust, the swell of his cock pushing more slick out your folds.
“Can’t wait that long,” he grunted, his grip on your thighs so forceful that you were sure that he was denting flesh. Your fingers grabbed onto the sides, knuckles stiff as you tried to move your hips incrementally.
“How do you think I’d feel? I won’t get either of y-you - ahn, fuck,” you moaned, shuddering at a particularly hard thrust.
The bottles of water around you trembled and the drawers rattle below. Jungkook leaned down and kissed you fiercely, groaning as you clenched around him, your pussy so slippery and wet that all you hear is the obscene schlick-schlick-schlick as his cock pistons inside you at shallow strokes. It was enough to drive you crazy.
“Too much, ahn,f-fuck,” you gasped, wet drag of his cock entering you in a smooth slide.
“Too much?”
He grips your hair, twists it in his fist as his hips slammed down, the stretch burns but it was euphoric.
“You guys act like we have all the time in the world, yeah?”
Jimin waltzes in, and from what you could make out past Jungkook’s shoulders, he was wearing a white robe, his skin was glimmering from the water, dark hair plastered to his temples. His tone is amused, you could hear his smile curling over the words.
“No comment,” you stuttered, nails digging harshly onto the wooden surface.
Knock knock knock!
Jungkook groans, halting out of respect, but you have to fight yourself from crying out as his cock fills you up to the hilt. Seconds pass, your heart thudding heavily in your ribcage while Jimin’s voice cuts through the daze of your mind.
“Yes, hi…”
“Shit,” you whispered, voice notably thinning into a high-pitched whine. It must be one of the staff members appearing as a physical reminder of their schedule.
“Yes… ah, we were meant to go first? Okay, sure… is Yoongi-hyung nearly done?”
Jungkook skates a broad palm behind your knee, and your eyes widen. The distance between you and the door isn’t vast. Jimin has taken to stick half of his body out, barely widening the door. Below, the console remains at an angle, raised slightly while he breathes out, fanning the hair on your head as your legs quiver, your clit getting the brunt of his thrusts, the swollen nub totally exposed and slick with need.
“… ah okay… Jungkookie and I are just getting ready right now… Fifteen minutes? Okay…” Jimin said, his voice diplomatic yet loud enough to shield the sharp gasp that eventually died against Jungkook’s collarbone as he rammed his hips forward.
“Yes - yes, I’ll make sure to tell him - actually, let me tell him now since he’s with me - Jungkook-ah?”
“Fucking shit…” he groaned lowly, the words barely escaping through gritted teeth as you kissed him fiercely, sliding your tongue against his, sucking the area were his lip ring was, drawing out another grunt. Jimin loved to tease, and it was evident in the rising inflection in his tone. Your head thuds against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, sensation taking over in a stifling wave as sweat coats your skin, condensing on the pitted surface of the console.
“Jungkook-ah, we have rehearsals for the Jingle Bell Ball, and you have to record a Happy New Year message later in the evening, you okay with that?”
Jungkook snapped his head up, still thrusting inside you, his cock throbbing inside your walls. You could only watch as the vein on his neck pulsed strongly, reaching forward as much as you can to lick the mole on the side, suckling and spreading spit as he slowed for his own posterity.
“Yes, I’m okay with all of that, hyung,” he answered, surprisingly calm in his delivery. If not for Jungkook shoving you between him and wall, you could envision Jimin’s knowing grin as he watched the pair of you stagger towards orgasm.
“You sure, Jungkook-ah?”
Before articulating his response, Jungkook’s hips surged forward, grinding at the hilt, your pussy providing this wet pressure, hot waves of arousal over his length as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, mouth setting against his fiery skin to muffle your uncontrollable moans.
“Yes hyung,” he replied, pounding into you, the subtle smackof skin against skin competing with the quiet rattle of the furniture beneath. He grips your jaw suddenly to kiss you deeply, sucking your tongue and drinking in your gasps.
“Yes… yes, thank you…”
Upon hearing the door shut, Jungkook resumed a blinding pace, hitting all the right spots that caused a flood between your thighs.
“Fuck… ahn… ah,” you moaned, wanton and thoroughly shameless as the constant push and pull finally piled together, toes curling as the wood chafed against your skin, the spear of his cock unforgiving for your pussy.
“Shit, this is what you could hear through the door the other night?” Jimin quipped, close enough to kiss your jaw, distracting you only to help you along by sliding his hand down your front, the stacks of rings on his fingers cold on your skin. He circles his finger on your nipple, your body responding in a jittery arch as Jungkook leans back, hands steady on your thighs as your voice transforms into staccato moans of ah…ah…ahn.
“Heard more than that,” Jungkook said, you see his teeth bared through your foggy gaze. You shudder as he stills, Jimin managing to assert himself, softly kissing your jaw. And you’re so far gone, mind empty of anything as electricity surges throughout your body remedying the apparent discomfort of being wedged against the wall.
“‘Cause you really had your ear pressed to the door,” Jimin laughed as he lazily thumbs your clit.
“Tsk,” Jungkook replied, not denying anything either.
“Fuck…ahn…p-please,” you gasped, arching your back, legs dangling in Jungkook’s hold. It seemed to do something to him, and while Jimin turns his attention to kissing along your neck, Jungkook snaps his hips forward, making you cry out, arms shaking in an attempt to anchor yourself.
“Ah, Jungkook-ah’s making you beg, hm?” Jimin whispers, his voice echoing in your ear as you mewled, “good.”
“Fuck… I can feel you tightening around me, you gonna cum, mn?” Jungkook panted, sliding out his cock and fucking back in using the same, controlled force that tears another moan from you.
“Shit… yeah, ah,” you babbled, turning your head to kiss Jimin, in a sloppy meeting of your mouths, his grin so evident as he holds your jaw, the metal of his rings on your hot skin.
“Ah…ssss… ah,” Jungkook groaned, thrusting again and again and again. Jimin licks into your mouth, the pointed tip of his tongue tracing leisurely, ending in a slow suck on your bottom lip. Spit and warmth everywhere as Jungkook hisses through his teeth, the deep thrusts making your toes curl.
“Good, hm?” Jimin asked, ghosting the tips of his nail around your nipple.
“Y-yeah - ah fuck!” You yelped, coming undone at Jungkook’s shallow thrusts, shaking so hard that your eyes screw shut as Jimin muffles your incoherent babbling by kissing you, dragging his tongue to gather the drool the spills from your lips. He forces your mouth open as you cried out, irretrievably wet between your thighs, sweat making the surface harder to keep steady on. Heat rushes down as Jimin holds you while Jungkook chases his own orgasm, his large, bruising hands on your thighs, fucking into you with the quick strokes of his cock.
“S-so good,” you gasped, taking it all.
“One more? Be good for us, hm?” Jimin murmured. It’s a softly-spoken order since he was rubbing your clit with the kind of pressure that you made you keen. Furiously, you nod, capitulating despite feeling so sensitised, and it gives Jungkook the signal to go harder, almost shoving Jimin out of the way.
“‘M good,” you confirmed, “fuck,” you cried out, orgasming again, the violent tremors in your body hardly able to be contained as Jungkook lets out a loud ah, your name punctuating the air, shaking as he came, sweat-slicked shoulders under your grip while he presses forward, the strength of his hold lifting you from the console for a bit. You blink up, your heartbeat pounding against your ribs; Jungkook’s face is shiny, the rose on his cheeks seeping everywhere.
“Shit…” he gasped, letting you down gently, pulling his cock out as you continue to shudder. Jimin fusses over your hair, kissing a path along your neck, suckling your earlobe as Jungkook hums, kneading your flesh at the comedown, raising your leg so he could lave a spot on your calf, escalating your breathing.
“You okay?” Jimin asked continuing the chaste press of his lips on your neck.
“Mhm,” you nod, almost mechanically, boneless in thrum of pleasure you were in. With Jungkook stepping back, he stumbles on the bed, back landing on the messy sheets, half laughing. You realise that you were as sapped as each other. Jimin takes his place between your legs, content with kissing you, hands atop your thighs, careful touches with the hint of his nails scratching lightly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, the fuzzy fabric of the robe a new texture on your skin.
Somewhere, in the realm of your short-term memory, you recalled the time constraint as you push him so that he was leaning against the console instead. He smiles, relaxed as you adjusted yourself on your knees, limbs feeling a little wooden, shivering at the rough fibres of the carpet on your knees.
“Fifteen minutes, you said?”
“About eight now,” Jungkook added from behind.
Meticulously, you worked to untie Jimin’s robe. It falls apart easily and he places his hand on your head, a fond touch.
“Can I?” You asked, biting your lip at the sight of Jimin’s cock, the answer was in the way his smile fades once you lick along your palm, curling it over his length. His stomach tenses, the lines of his abdomen raising into definition, his upper lip twitching as you fisted his cock, a languid pump, tightening over the tip, tongue flicking over the slit.
“Seven minutes…” Jungkook said, while you pulled back, unfurling your tongue, letting the heavy weight of Jimin’s cock rest, unattended in your mouth.
Time didn’t matter, in fact, it gets suspended when Jimin twists a finger in your hair, his eyes taking on a soft, unfocused glow.
“Sss…ah,” he breathed while you sucked on the tip, the taste of him making you hum.
There are things that makes Jimin moan but there are things that make him whimper. Like Jungkook, he had numerous moles that found home on his body, a particular one was by his left hip, like punctuation on the blank page of skin. Before you take his cock back in your mouth again, you kiss the small mole, triggering memories of long nights where no matter how hard you tried, it always ended up with you being pleasured - a thorough mess by being attended to by two pairs of hands.
“Ah fuck, there’s no time…” he rasps. You nuzzle his cock, licking along his balls, wetting the surface, sucking with enough pressure and loving every moan and whimper that escaped him.
“I’ll be good,” you promised, aware of his fingers in your hair, the first sign of roughened touch that caused your thighs to press together. The sticky residue smeared between eases the slide of your skin, the cool air making it tacky.
“Six minutes,” Jungkook supplied, smugness colouring his tone.
“Fuck,” Jimin gasped as you dive back in, jaw slackening as his entire length goes into your mouth, the weight of its is pleasant, heady even. He smells good, like soap with a little bit of sweat, and you couldn’t help but bracket his hips with your hands, bobbing your head, spit and pre-cum pooling in your mouth.
“Five -”
“Don’t be a brat, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin said, his hips taking on a gentle sway, cock pushing deeper in your mouth. The action is so unlike his bossy command that you moaned around him, leaning back so your hand tugs at his shaft, the slide of your palm along his velvety length growing audible. A wet suction sound, making its way straight to your throbbing core.
“I’ll be quick,” you said, your head arching to his touch, opening your mouth again. It was a veiled attempt at shifting the responsibility to you, but Jimin looks down, cocking his head. He can do quick but it didn’t mean that he liked doing it that way.
“Remember that time you were late?” You asked, tapping the tip of his cock on your lower lip, “don’t want you to be late anymore.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Jimin nods, pushing some of the hair that got in your eyes, “and I wasn’t thatlate.”
“Everyone was waiting for twenty minutes, hyung.”
“Jungkook… shut up,” Jimin warned, ending in a choked moan, thrusting into your mouth a little more carelessly.
“Wish we had more time,” you muttered, suckling on the head, humming so that the vibrations he could feel all over. It’s so messy now, pre-cum and drool in your desire to make quick work, hasty in your rhythm.
“Ah shit… me too,” Jimin moaned, head thrown back, the sinewy column of his neck is coloured pink, his pulse throbbing visibly under his skin. You hummed around him, hot all over, pre-cum dribbling down your chin, knees rubbed raw.
“Ah fuck… fuck,” Jimin grunts. Drawing back, you gently suckle on the tip, holding his length as you give a few more sucks to his balls, bringing out that soft sigh, so pretty, almost a whimper. You tease him, relishing in the aching throb that you felt all the way down, nosing his cock, face gleaming from spit and cum. Jimin gasped as you dip lower, then you are suddenly aided by Jungkook’s hand on your head, an all encompassing force that had you flattening your tongue, swiping it sloppily.
“Two mi -” Jungkook began, almost making you laugh as you forced your head down, nose pressing against base of Jimin’s cock. You look up, eyes pleasing, throat tightening.
“Fucking hell,” Jimin grunts, spilling suddenly, wet gurgling noises, obscene in the room as those pair of hands hold you down, Jungkook from behind and Jimin cupping your chin. It’s mildly oppressive, the air depleting from your lungs at the force but it’s everything you’ve ever wanted, moaning with them. Your eyes water, released abruptly from their hold, strings of saliva and cum snapping at your chin.
“Ah, fuck,” you gasped, voice hoarse and throat raw.
Jimin slumps back, breathing in lungfuls of air harshly, his cock still leaking so you surge forward, batting your eyelashes at him as he spurts the last of it in your mouth. He sighs, bottom lip tucked under this teeth, the crooked one, the one you’ve always found cute, appearing on show.
Knock knock!
It’s a quiet threat. Behind the door is a ticked off staff, probably tired of being human alarms.
“We’re so fucking late,” Jungkook observes, helping you up, supporting you as your legs were still shaky. Jimin cards his hand through his hair, now damp with sweat, his fingers shone from the silver rings as Jungkook picks you up in his arms, kissing you everywhere. Always the responsible one over the three of you, Jimin quickly fixes himself, flicking the robe to cover his front as he saunters to the door, straightening out his stumble.
You cling onto Jungkook’s body as he lowered you onto the bed. There was a tired glaze over you both, hands twining together as he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck. Distantly, you hear Jimin’s voice return to its diplomatic tone, smooth and concealing his state of unravel mere seconds ago.
“Ah yes, sorry, we’ll be out soon… yes.”
“Liar,” you muttered, grinning as Jungkook ran his hand along your side, scrunching his nose. He kisses you again, saying everything that screamed of no intention of leaving the bed if he could help it. The door shuts and Jimin reappears, you glanced at his flushed face over your shoulder.
“We have ten minutes to get our asses out the room,” he announced, raising his eyebrows at you and Jungkook given that you were draped over him, legs kicking upwards coyly. It wasn’t much of a grace period at all.
“Did you bargain?” You asked, propping yourself up so you could rest your head on your hand. Jungkook trails his finger along your back, in no hurry at all.
“No but the moment they saw me, they stopped themselves from saying ‘five’ and gave me ‘ten’ instead.”
You all laughed, you relenting first and rolling off Jungkook, who clasped your wrist before letting you go. Jimin comes over to kiss your temple.
“Be back soon, then we can carry on later,” he said, unable to resist kissing you again.
“Ten minutes can be enough time,” you said, tugging at the string of his robe. He flashes you a warning with his eyes, but the glint was unmistakable.
“Later,” Jimin insists, tipping your chin up, smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip. Jungkook kisses along your back, holding onto the final moments before they have to head out. In a light-hearted response, you roll your eyes, teasing them by shrugging them off.
“Hey, we’ll be done soon,” Jungkook said, taking it seriously since he couldn’t see your face.
“I know,” you said, twisting so you could straddle him, much to Jimin’s chagrin.
“Guys, c’mon,” he said, laughter edging his tone. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, sighing deeply but his hands cling onto your body, inciting an even pressure of his fingers on your skin.
“Fine,” Jungkook sighed, but not before kissing you again.
“I saw the cute headbands for your New Year message,” you said, feeling Jimin’s hands on your waist, plush lips between your shoulder blades. A small win given that he was back on the bed with you both.
“It would look cute as we deliver our New Year’s wishes,” Jimin mused, splaying his hand on your lower back so you could grind over Jungkook harder. You gasped into the kiss, the direct contact of your pussy over Jungkook’s cock making you shudder, who groaned lowly.
“What’s your wish?” You asked Jungkook, leaning back as Jimin supported you with your back on his chest. Jungkook’s eyes darted to the side, a blush colouring his cheeks suddenly. Jimin laughs by exhaling sharply through his nose, going back to kissing your neck, humming slightly.
“Well -”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The moment dissolves as you cover your mouth with your hands to contain your laughter, alert as to the impatience of the person behind the insistent knocking. Jungkook inhales deeply before giving you a final, chaste kiss and carefully disengages himself from you so he could clean up what he could before being corralled out.
“Later,” he said.
“Why? Tell me!” You grumbled, but it doesn’t last long as Jimin tackles you underneath him, giving quick kisses along your neck. Changing tactic, you look up at him, eyes on his full lips, glossy from all the kisses.
“What’syourwish?”
“Later,” Jimin echoed, his tone light. You rolled your eyes.
“Later,” you mocked, sticking your tongue out.
And they both laughed, Jungkook’s one reverberating from somewhere in the bathroom, Jimin’s right by your ear.
Still Feel It All. (m) | ONE - SHOT | MIN YOONGI, 4.7 k
Pairing:Yoongi x Reader
Summary:Yoongi knew some of it. He knows of the things you take part in, the world you inhabit sometimes. The relationships those included, the things you don’t talk about as much anymore. But, you think, he may not know how it feels, how things pan out if you go too far in one instance.
Warning/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language; smut (fem-reader; oral sex (f-receiving); unprotected sex; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; but this is like, ‘non-explicit explicit sex,’ if you get what I mean - just plenty of feelings); slightangst; there’s so much pining and professions of love and it’s just a lot; for context: they’re roommates rn and were friends with benefits at some point; also, the reader is involved in BDSM and Yoongi isn’t; there are descriptions of a ‘drop’ and the exhaustion and anxiety that may come after a scene, then aftercare) - non - idol!AU
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Just to emphasise: please be mindful of the tags and read at your own discretion! I think that this one shot is a bit intense and to reiterate, if some of the tags above are things that you are sensitive towards, please don’t read ahead.
(Also, the title is a song by MARO if anyone’s curious!)
-
The lease is for a year and on the eleventh month, Yoongi finds you in the shower, soaked in your clothes.
With your forehead pressed onto the tiles, your breath joins the plumes of steam that curled up to the ceiling. It’s too warm and you were light-headed but moving was too hard, weighed down by sopping fabric. Your eyelids are heavy, your lashes tending to stick together, as if the crystals of sleep are stubbornly affixed there.
Trembling in your position, you don’t quite hear anything properly, the shower filters in and out, alongside the strong thud of your heart. But the sound of the door rouses something in you, making you curl inwards more.
“Ah, sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”
Yoongi’s voice is deep and echoes in the small space, the vowels sound smooth coming from him. You turn your head, beyond shame for the moment.
“’S okay. You’re fine.”
You’re fine.
You’re fine.
You’re fine.
Your brain repeats the mantra, thoughts frayed like the end of a rope. You’ll deal with the fallout later and Yoongi will do his best to understand, he always does.
“Are you okay?”
You liked Yoongi’s satoori,it reminded you of someplace safe, where the sun sets in an orange glow on the horizon, sinking between great mountains.
It’s the not the first time he asks this, of course. Living together made certain things impossible to conceal, but you were clear on your limits. A space is a space and lines can be drawn if the other is willing. Now, though, you don’t mind that someone is asking, even more so that it’s Yoongi. He would have noticed that the door was ajar and it makes the shame a little easier to bear. He was worried and he could tell that leaving you alone wouldn’t benefit either of you.
Still, you resist.
“I’m fine.”
That sounded weird out loud. As if to affirm, your shoulders tense, the water feeling too cold lower down.
“You don’t seem fine,” he says, closer now. It sounds as if he was right by the glass.
The exhale was harder than the inhale, your chest tightens as air is pushed out.
“It’s just - it’s just a drop.”
Yoongi knew some of it. He knows of the things you take part in, the world you inhabit sometimes. The relationships those included, the things you don’t talk about as much anymore. But, you think, he may not know how it feels, how things pan out if you go too far in one instance.
“I need some time, I need…”
You don’t exactly know, if you were being frank.
“You should get out of your clothes,” Yoongi scolds.
It’s soft in the way he reprimands you, like a nag, swallowed in a mumble, almost lost in the consistent pelt of the water against the wall. You had no energy to argue, to turn his hospitality away, so you nod. The slide of the door is a squeak, the air comes through in a rush, and Yoongi is by your side, his hands at your waist. The touch is reverent, even now. Careful and trying.
“Let me help.”
You turn and find him close but his eyes are on the floor, which is filling up with the both of you on it. You hear your breath grow shallow, your mouth going dry. Yoongi’s cheeks are mottled pink, hints of red around his nose, the centre of his lips, his shirt is stained at the shoulders, caught in the ensuing spray.
“You’ll get all wet,” you whispered, the ragged ends of your words masked by the heat and steam.
“It’s okay.”
He looks up at you, it’s quick though, as he works to grab something from the basket hanging on the side. Yoongi,you warned, regaining some sort of control. He hushes you in a second, rummaging for more bottles using this easy concentration he has.
“I’ll wash your hair first, okay?”
Your face is too warm, despite it all. Yoongi lifts the hem of your shirt, up till he can thread it off you. Then, he unhooks your bra, letting it fall away. His gaze avoids the marks on your skin, ones that resemble ropes criss-crossing intricately, others being fingers. Traces of a scene you left.
“I’ll tend to those later,” Yoongi offers after. “Your sweatpants.”
“I’ll keep them on,” you said, and Yoongi sighs in response and crowds you, but in a way that you can hear him better than anything else. The rhythm of his breathing, the small grunts he emits as he tries to squeeze the last of the shampoo out onto his palm. You don’t mean to but you lean towards him, yearning for something solid yet soft. Facing each other, you were able to tuck your chin over his shoulder, resting there for the moment. He says your name, as gentle as the first time you met, on that cold January day. Yoongi, with his averted gaze and saccharine smile. The sun was so bright that day, lightening the tips of his hair into a warm amber.
When his palms bracket your sides, you shiver at the contact, relief manifesting at the tangible.
And that’s the thing about Yoongi.
He’s kind and soft where you were sharp and abrasive. He cares where he can’t help and helps even when he shouldn’t care. You didn’t mind your differences, after all, you were your own person. But you liked that Yoongi held you as if he understood everything, it made you need something you didn’t know you wanted.
“You don’t have to, but I’ll listen.”
Yoongi’s voice is a mere rumble while pressed together like this. Like the words are pulled from his chest rather than his throat. For a minute, maybe longer, you stay quiet. He manoeuvres, his hands rubbing your back in a calm motion.
“I - it was too much,” you manage, your voice unnatural in the echoey space.
“Is what I’m doing too much?”
You shake your head, finding the energy to smile.
“I don’t mind this. It’s good.”
And you almost gave permission for your tears to fall when you feel his hand skate up to your nape, touching your skin, bunching your wet hair, forcing the water to run in excess.
“We didn’t get to this part,” you confessed, “I didn’t get -,” you stuttered, blinking to focus your eyes back because there was a hollow sort of numbness that seeped all over. Your words are like a mismatched quilt, the stitches haphazard. “We stopped, we broke up.”
It wasn’t like there was anything more than sex but you felt strange announcing its end.
“Oh,” Yoongi contemplates, stroking the back of your head, “I’m sorry about that.”
“’S fine. We just didn’t work anymore,” you said. There was more to explain, more to divulge, but you were lost in the way Yoongi touches at the back of your neck, willing enough pressure to soothe.
“Sounds like what happened to us,” Yoongi says after a while.
Your lips curl upwards because he doesn’t say it with malice. He sounded hurt, the words are mumbled, the satooriholding the ends together. It happened on the fifth month, when you fucked. The night was warm and you were both too drunk to commit to a proper thought process, or to stop, really. Then, you tried again, sober, and when you asked to go beyond expectation, for Yoongi’s hand to strike you, he shrank back, nervous. After, it got awkward, like you were stepping on eggshells each time you spoke.
You stopped then.
“We didn’t really talk about it, Yoongi.”
The realisation makes you frown.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it, forget that I brought it up,” he sighs, “is it okay for me to wash your hair?”
“Yeah,” you mumbled, leaning back, meeting his gaze. Those brown eyes that are far too kind, and one look, your shivers settle. And you don’t ask because you feel the pull, you hover your lips over his, barely touching.
You feel the flutter of his lashes on your cheek, “’s okay, you can wash my hair,” you murmured.
So he does, those long, bony fingers doing their best to leave no trace, rinsing the suds away from your scalp, trailing down to the ends.
“I like that you coloured it this way,” Yoongi says, his voice too fond. You find yourself smiling, dipping your head down as he finishes wringing out the shampoo. Some of the red makes it onto the floor, seeping into the hem of his jeans.
“It’s pretty,” he adds in a huff. You don’t protest when he leans close again, kissing the juncture where your arm and your shoulder meet.
“C’mon.”
He helps you stand up and the rest of it goes wordlessly. The rest of your clothes are pulled off, his too. Then, you are wrapped in his robe, and he towels himself roughly, stepping into loose sweats. You look at him as he ruffles his hair, quick movements that flick water off the ends into the air. You see the soft slopes of his body, the landscape of it and its contours. His eyes are your favourite, sharp yet rounded, framed by long lashes, holding a gaze so kind that it’s easy to want - to crave. A pinprick of pain suffuses through your chest and you say it before thinking.
“Can we sleep together?”
He stares at you, drinking your words in. He doesn’t say anything and walks out, and you shrink back into yourself, curling your fingers into a fist. The brunt of the embarrassment felt as a tremble of your lower lip.
“I’ll get something for your bruises,” he says, busying himself as he opens the door to his bedroom. He sounds far away because there were walls between you now. Mi-Rae wasn’t meant to come back until early morning and Namjoon is away on a trip. The apartment has four rooms and two bathrooms, the one you were in was the one you shared with Mi-Rae. It’s enough for islands to form, for lines to be drawn on the sand.
Yoongi isn’t tidy and he cleans when he feels like it. You knew that for a fact after a few weeks of living together. On his chair are layers of shirts, sweat shirts, and hoodies yet to find a home on his shelf. The equipment he has are on his desk, mini-keyboards, a lone mic, his monitor that had a black screen as a background. But it smells like him. It smells like sweet vanilla, like the cologne he wears sometimes, sweet and subtle. You’ll only know if you’re close enough or if you’re in his space.
“Come,” he says, already sat on his bed, meeting you in the eye.
You always felt cared for whenever Yoongi does this. He’s like that to everyone, so you’re not exactly singled out; it’s just the way he was. He doesn’t say much but there will always be food on the table and his smile outside the station when it’s raining and you forgot an umbrella. Back then, you were appreciative, someone resembling a stranger being unconditionally kind. Maybe it was a crush, then.
Now, it’s somewhat changed. But it’s still nice that Yoongi cares in the same way he does from the moment you met. He pushes the robe away, and it slides down your shoulders, the tips of his fingers are cold and you hiss. You remember the ropes being tight but you preferred it that way. The gel he applies is even colder, though. He gives you an apologetic look, his cheeks rounding as he draws his lips into a line. It spreads evenly and you yearn for something you can quite place. You let yourself drop forward again, head on his shoulder.
“Thanks.”
“Do you always come back like this?”
The question is innocent yet probing. Your silence he takes as a cue to elaborate.
“After you - after you’re with someone like that - you said something about a drop,” he tries, but you catch the tremble in his voice, the way it shakes the vowels, he seems hesitant. “I don’t know what that means.”
You inhale and exhale, the pain rushes back. You focus on Yoongi’s skin, pale even in the low light, the bare expanse of it, feeling his warmth, anchoring yourself as you tried to regulate your breathing. The conversation never happened between you and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to happen in the first place. Yoongi was someone who made you feel soft yet thorny things at the same time. He’s someone in your heart but the way he came in was through being lodged at your rib, and you think he’s stayed there ever since, and slowly you got used to the way that hurt sometimes.
“It can be rough,” you began, trying to work through the flashes of memory. “They normally take care of me after.”
“And this time, they didn’t?”
“No - it’s not that.”
It’s about being left on the bed, curled up, about feeling numb for what feels longer than a minute or two, unable to utter a word or move. It was about ending things so impersonally.
We don’t have to be together anymore.
It was cold and unpleasant. It hurt in a different kind of way, more than the marks left to heal for days.
“We didn’t end up finishing the scene, they went ahead, and -” you said, feeling out of touch, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t care anymore.”
“Did you love them?”
You raise your head because it wasn’t what you expected. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you at all, but his cheeks were pink, his nerves showing up in a flare.
“No. It’s not like that. It’s not love.”
Yoongi sighed, refocusing and placing more gel on your skin. It’s warmer now that he’s held it for a while. You observe his quietness, finding small moles on his skin, one on his left cheek, the part in his hair, the chapped surface of his lips.
“I’ve never really been in love.”
It was years before. When things got too much, when you were pushed to the limits, you weren’t tired. It manifested as a rush, a high that you wanted to replicate. Eventually, you found another source, and under the heavy hand of another, you experienced something inexplicably euphoric that it stayed with you in your core for days. From there, it developed, until you picked up everything else, met different people, stepping into an escape that you didn’t know you were searching for in the first place. A lack of control translating as actual freedom from the things that shackled you down in your life.
It had more to do with trust rather than love.
And there was hardly an overlap.
“I don’t get it. I don’t get you,” Yoongi mutters, his voice unsteady now.
“It doesn’t change things. I’m still myself,” you explained, the thorny feeling coming back tenfold. “I’m still me, Yoongi. But sometimes, I just want to forget and sometimes, I want to be…”
You hesitate because you feel like you’re running out of words to describe this amorphous feeling that’s followed you since. Yoongi’s touch runs along your collarbone, feeling the grooves of where the rope was once. You gather some strength from there.
“Sometimes, I want to be someone else’s.”
“I’m sorry,” is what Yoongi says. “We don’t have to talk about it, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to tell you,” you replied, looking elsewhere, on the corner of his ceiling. “I mean, at some point, later on, we can talk about it more.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t touch you anymore either.
“Please take care of me, Yoongi.”
“I’ll get you a shirt and underwear, wait here.”
“No - just, can you sleep here, with me?”
It’s a feeble attempt but you reach out as he stands, circling your hand around his wrist. He was warm and his pulse feels strong. “Can I stay?”
There’s more to that. It’s a plea for something that comes so easily for him. Perhaps that’s why you felt shy asking.
“You and I, we -,” he starts, his voice hoarse, “I don’t think I have anything to offer you.”
What Yoongi said puzzled you. That was hardly the truth because he was always offering you something. Whether it was his gentle comfort, his own space, his words, his embrace. He was a safe harbour and welcoming when the storm battered against the sails. He’s changed but not that much, he’d kiss your forehead if you did something well, cook you something when you were exhausted, support you unfailingly. Yoongi was made of all the good things you never thought you’d get in this lifetime and it made you think of him when moments are idle. You thought about his skin, his scent, his smile, till it became a subconscious craving, even when you were in the presence of someone else. At the end of it all, at the end of the pain mixed with pleasure, you wished that Yoongi was there to pick you up.
The thought makes you blink rapidly, your heartbeat knocking against your chest in an erratic rhythm. You ball your hands into fists, the realisation hitting you too suddenly. Yoongi waits, your hand tightens over his wrist. His eyes are neither soft nor fond.
“No. That’s a lie,” you said, panicked.
Nothing is said, nothing for the few seconds it takes for Yoongi to kneel between your legs. Your breath thins as you feel him press his lips to your neck and you shudder. Your eyes flutter close, the tilt of your head is automatic, and you get kissed on your collarbones, Yoongi’s tongue is hot on your skin, over your nipple that your moans are sighed out. You grow weak as the robe eventually falls away, your body arching towards Yoongi until the fire becomes too much. He murmurs your name, his fingers wandering down, your legs spreading instinctively. You gasp and he finds you wet.
“You’re -”
“I - earlier, I didn’t get to come,” you breathed, “it’s okay. Keep going.”
Yoongi says your name again, and it sounds different, tender.You had to fight to properly see him, already succumbing to the haze of pleasure.
“I’ll do what you like, just - just tell me.”
And that shouldn’t make you want to cry all of the sudden so you shake your head, “it’s okay. What you’re doing is fine.”
“You want to come?”
It wasn’t the most Yoongi thing to say and it sounded too suggestive right now. It makes your face heat up, your mind confused as your body craves and craves. You’ve fucked more than once but the intimacy is different now, informed by new words, shaped into a new meaning. It’s rehashed but renewed.
“I - yeah. I want to,” you sniffed, aware of your position, Yoongi kneeling on the floor, your legs spread and his fingers grazing between. He raises himself up, teeth skimming your neck, his tongue circling your nipple and you fingers clutch at the sheets, the air rushing into your lungs, making them expand. And you’re weaker somehow, breathless as Yoongi touches you between your legs, fingers dipping inside, curling and rubbing that you flinch. You whimpered, bowing onto him, shaking as he goes on and on. It feels good, too good to be cared for like this. Your name makes it past the mist, it’s a concerned tone cloaked under the satoori.
“You’re shaking,” Yoongi says, his thumb stroking your hip.
“No, it’s good. It feels good,” you assured, your voice scratchy, “just - please.”
You stop because you areshivering at this point from being yanked from the peak.
“Lay on your back,” he says, and you look at him, eyes wide.
“What?”
Yoongi wraps an arm around your waist, hoisting you closer to the headboard. You scramble back, leaving behind the robe and it slithers away, onto the floor. But the realisation is quick, you haven’t really done this with him and you think he feels forced.
“You don’t have to, we haven’t - ”
“I want to do this. I want you to feel good,” he said, quiet and embarrassed. You bite your lip because you feel fond, despite everything. “And it’s better than my fingers.”
You’ve had your mouth fucked and gagged, had fingers pressed until you think you couldn’t breathe anymore. You remember the tears that slipped down, salty on your lips, the thrilling feeling of a high. You were used to that as opposed to being on the other side of things, never had the experience of being cared for in thatway. Yoongi says your name again, careful fingers on your damp hair, tucking it behind your ear.
“Okay, yeah. But if you don’t like it, don’t feel like you have to just because -”
Yoongi cuts you off, firmly letting you recline, “I’ll tell you if that happens.”
The sheets are soft and the ceiling is plain, your heart is loud as Yoongi hitches your legs over his shoulders. The anticipation is something you haven’t felt, it’s a certain frequency you were unfamiliar with, yielding to Yoongi’s control. He’s gentle, kissing your inner thighs and you look, because the brush of his hair tickles somewhat, and his breath is warm there. And it’s awkward since he pauses, that you almost protest but then his mouth latches and his tongue swipes over and over that you gasp. The instinct was to shut your legs but he pushes his shoulders to pin you wide, and his nose is cool but his mouth is hot and wet, his tongue probing and circling, and your moans are soft, you turn your face onto the pillow, legs shaking as he holds you down.
“Fuck,ah,” you breathed, knees knocking together as Yoongi pull back, his chin and lips glistening.
“Are you okay? Does it feel good?”
Bewildered, you release your grip on the sheets, “I - yes,” you said, watching intently as Yoongi swipes his tongue on his bottom lip. His chest rises and falls, his hair askew. You realise that he’s tasting you and it’s like a warm sluice in your gut, spreading throughout your chest. He looks different, and you find yourself saying that out loud.
“How?”
You gather your words, thoughts trickling back again.
“Different. The last time we,” you said, delving into the memory, “the last time we had sex, I could tell that you were sad.”
It was an awkward admission, given that you were like this. So you sit up and Yoongi does the same, confusion apparent in the knit of his brow.
“It was like you couldn’t understand the person I was. Like you didn’t like me.”
“But I do,” he said, placing his hands on your thighs. “I just -,” he tries, “I love you. I’m in love with you.”
The words come out in a fast reel that it’s cloaked in a lisp. He pushes his palm and messes up his hair even more that it sticks up, you swallowed. He presses his palm to his temple, the bend of his fingers make it seem crooked and he speaks again, calmer this time, to make you listen -
“I love you and I’m jealous that -”
“Yoongi,” you said, voice matching his tone, “what are you saying?”
Though you couldn’t ignore the way your heart was racing too fast and that it’s more like a drum in your ears.
“It’s not in my control anymore,” he exhales, “and I get that you might need to go to someone else, we can,” he sighs, and your heart feels like stone in your chest, “we’re still friends.”
And you look at each other till whatever was unspoken is brought to the fore. His eyes, which hid many things, now show warmth and a certain fondness you think he has always reserved for you. No words happen because Yoongi kisses you, his lips are so light on yours, his hands moving, caressing and easing you back.
“We carry on,” he says, and you nod, biting his bottom lip, savouring that groan.
There aren’t any complaints, no words that speak of pain you get off to or Yoongi’s hesitation. There isn’t really that control you have to submit to, there’s just your fingers threading through his, the rocking movement of your hips, his soft grunts against your neck as he sinks into you. And there’s the sound of skin, sticky and wet, the feeling of him inside you, it’s so unbelievable that your gasps meet his groans, and you hear whatever escapes when your kisses grow messy. There are no more words, less of those mismatched descriptions and explanations that end up in tangled threads neither of you could unravel, just your bodies moving and doing what feels good. Yoongi groans as you spasm around him, his hips driving down and you come, your legs shaking at his sides as he slows, grinding down.
“Fuck,” you moaned, “ah.”
“I can pull out, wait,” he huffs, sounding breathy.
“N-no, don’t,” you said, your voice raspy, fingers on his back, nails impressing grooves on the muscle, “if you keep going, I can, hgnh,I can come again.”
Yoongi groans, pressing his forehead against yours, and you feel it, feel the myriad of ways he chooses to love you, to care for you, and it soaks you to the bone. You kiss him because the feelings are too loud and you’re too sensitive, your heart skipping and skipping. You realise that you don’t just want the sex, but the feeling that Yoongi brings, a sense of home.
“Y-yoongi,” you began, “I love you,” you said, your voice muffled against his lips. “I love you.”
He kisses you deeply, holds you almost as if you’d break, his movements retreating into a slow tempt, and you panic, not wanting to be brought away from the peak.
“Please, don’t stop, keep going -”
It doesn’t take much for him to come, and you shudder as he grunts low, his climax in waves and after, you let him part, only to sling your legs over his shoulders and dips his mouth on your pulsing centre. He goes until you’re pushing him off, overwhelmed at the amount of times he could make you feel good.
Later, your eyes meet and you grow shy because it really wasn’t sex. It was more than you shared, even when you were together, like this. Yoongi blushes as you part his hair, and you feel shy when he kisses your temple.
“I can learn the things that make you feel good,” he says eventually. You hum, observing the sheen of his nose, the reddened tint of his cheeks. You appreciate how he tries and how that’s love. He looks at you again, his fingers are gentle in your hair. The sheets are soft on your skin and when you place your hand on his chest, his heart is slow but strong. He kisses your forehead as you close your eyes, searching for words to describe how you feel.
“It’s okay.”
Yoongi understands because he continues to care for you, choosing a soft towel and hands you a bottle of water that you almost finish in one go.
“What are we then?”
He asks this as he gulps down from a glass. You knit your eyebrows together, perplexed. He takes this as another moment to elborate.
“You and I,” he says, sniffing, pressed close despite the size of his bed. You curl into him. “I don’t think I can control you in the way you want to be controlled.”
“You don’t have to,” you replied, “we don’t have to be like that.”
Yoongi twines his fingers with yours, palms pressed to trap the warmth, “would you go and look for someone else to do that?”
You kiss his cheek and he leans close, “no, that’s not something I want.”
It takes a moment for you to say the next thing, the thorny feeling becoming something soft.
“I just want you.”
Yoongi goes redder, if that was even possible. “Oh.”
It was underwhelming as he was flustered, and you kissed him softly, breathing his scent in, feel the way his skin is smooth and warm.
“Yeah, we can try again.”
It’s the quiet of the night, where time is stretched into light-years, and you’re in Yoongi’s arms, floating still. He kisses your forehead, your nose, and eventually your lips. He says those words, low and soft, morphing into a sound under your skin, dulling the ache in your heart that you’ve carried for a while.
I Can Do This All Night (If You Wanted To). (m) | ONE - SHOT | JEON JUNGKOOK, 6.2 k
Pairing:Jungkook x Reader
Summary:Jungkook is working late at the office. Usually, he stays until all remaining tasks are completed but with you perched on his desk as a welcomed distraction from the glare of the monitors and its repetitive work, he might just get off early.
Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language; smut (fem-reader; grinding; nipple play, unprotected sex, penetrative sex; multiple orgasms); Jeon Jungkook is whippedhere (and he lowkey has a praise kink lmao); fluff- the reader is a tsundere lmao, you’ll see why; they have so much love for each other, I actually cannot look at this fic wow; Jungkook is big in all respects (sdgljkl) buthe’s also a big softie (T__T) so his love language is blushing profusely while being grilled about how whipped he is; so really, they’re fluffy andfilthy together lmao; I used a lot of parenthesis in the previous one shot so I shall continue the trend; - non-idol!AU - Lawyer/Attorney!Jungkook x Street Racer! Reader
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Pls thank user jungkook.97 - by this I specifically mean liking the white squares that he posted as part of his insta grid if you haven’t already lmao
You don’t have to read ‘Blink And You’ll Miss It’ to read this btw! This is just a regular pwp - ‘porn with pheelings’ lmao
-
The thing about affidavits is that they are tedious by nature and if Jungkook isn’t careful, he can miss something small that will affect the entire sequence of information ahead.
It’s late, he’s on a tight deadline but there’s an impediment.
But it’s not like the other impediments he’s faced before.
This time around, it’s in the form of the rather tempting confrontation of you perched comfortably atop his desk. You don’t obscure his monitors entirely but he admits that his otherwise austere office now has a heavenly break from the monotony of the documents he has to sift through. It seems that since that fateful confession in the dingy parking lot, in the confines of his car, his life appears to be marginally better. The nights aren’t so long and his bed isn’t so vast anymore.
But some things remain the same, like whenever you you’re driving his eyes are on the dashboard and his fingers are wound tight around his seatbelt.
Through this, he realises that he’s been reading the same sentence thrice, given that you’re making a job out of swaying his swivel chair to and fro. Seoul blinks in the background, reflected on the inactive screens flanking the main one. A smile decorates your face, it’s small and subtle, but he’s come to know that as devious.
One of the janitors traverses the hallway facing his office, his silhouette clear through the blinds. It makes Jungkook aware that he’s not the only one on the floor and that others are burning the midnight oil.
You lean back slightly, tugging the chair towards you so that effectively, he’s slotted between your legs.
He says your name in a quiet warning, tame to anyone listening.
“What?”
Jungkook sighs, not quite knowing what to say. Never before has he had trouble refocusing. That was one of the traits he managed to hone in the years he spent held hostage by reams of legal documents and text. If found in a state of flow, the building could be burning and he wouldn’t even know unless made aware by another. And yet, this burning building was swiftly replaced by you: a coquettish distraction that, truthfully, he could never miss, not even if he tried.
“Let’s go, you’re tired,” you supplied, casting your eyes at him, a slow evaluation that he clings to, “I’ll drive.”
Oh, it’s so tempting.
Jungkook would love nothing more than to leave. To crawl into bed with you, perhaps end the day on a high, tussling on the sheets, his fingers in your hair, sharing kisses in the dark, breathless till spent.
“I have something due at 11AM,” he replied, placing his hands on your bare thighs, swiping his thumbs in a gentle brush. It’s summer again and you were partial to wearing as little as allowed, not that he minded. He liked how you felt, how responsive you were to his touch, how you were his favourite person these days.
“Do it later.”
He finds himself grinning, “give me thirty minutes.”
You rolled your eyes, swinging your legs slightly, hooking your feet over his calves, “you said that thirty minutesago.”
You drag your feet up then down, Jungkook feels his face warm, his physical reactions all too obvious.
“It’s only been twenty minutes.”
“That’s literally the same thing if you want to round up.”
He resumes work, twisting his body so that he could reach the keyboard. The affidavit comes back to life, the spacing is tighter but he bears it. In the meantime, you survey the contents of his desk, tracing your finger down the other monitor, which flickered back to his other, neglected tasks.
“I’m bored,” you comment, tilting your head, capturing his attention again.
Jungkook sighs, so was he to be fair.
“You didn’t have to come up, you could have waited for me in bed.”
“But I wanted to see what the hype was about and see if my parents were chatting bull,” you said, looking at his screen. “I thought it would be more fun, seeing the law in action or have a routine.”
Jungkook adjusts his seat having trouble making out a particular sentence, the closer he got the more he could feel your warm skin. The temptation grows, his focus waning incrementally.
“You always make it seem like my job shackles me or something,” Jungkook said, placing his hand on your waist.
“It’s 2AM and you’re still at your desk Kook,” you replied. “‘Sides, I thought that a white-collar job would be more… adventurous.”
Jungkook squeezes your side, “I doubt that you can make a fair comparison between being a street racer and being a lawyer.”
“Yeah but I studied this for years, it was interesting.”
You lean into his hold and he catches your scent, sweet and addictive.
“Then get a job, see for yourself.”
You shot him a look, but it ends in a laugh. It’s bright, one that he’s gotten used to and sought to bring out in you, even at his expense.
“Touché.”
Jungkook chuckles, “then you won’t have to worry about Namjoon tailing you.”
You scoffed, “you’ll alwayscome and bail me out anyway, it’s like,” you shrugged one shoulder, “our thing.”
Jungkook has read the same sentence again.His fingers twitches over the mouse, highlighting it to help.
(It still makes no sense).
“What do you mean ‘our thing’?”
“You know, that’s how my friends know us,” you explained, “I get caught and you bail me out. That’s our thing.” You reach to part his hair, disturbing the style he has perfected over the years. At work, he is the picture of professionalism but now, you muss it up, tugging it free. The strands unravel in an arc, fanning in his line of vision, he probably looks the way he feels: exhausted and in part, lovestruck.
“Yeah but before, I bailed you out ‘cause I was scared of your parents firing me, but now,” he starts, shifting some text before replying, “you’re my girlfriend.”
He feels you run your knuckle along the side of his face, along his jaw, drawing his attention away, “so does that mean you’ll come and bail me out because you likeme?”
The immediate reaction is Yes.
Yet Jungkook thinks it’s more than that. These past few months have been interesting to say the least and if he was grilled, he would do anything for you in a heartbeat. Though he’d like to keep that for himself for a little longer, it’s been an exercise in stealth as Taehyung and Jimin were too receptive andnot shy about it.
It’s really obvious that you’re into her, I’m glad, Jimin said to him once in the bar when you were in the bathroom. Jungkook blushed under the blue lights, his face likely a violent shade of purple - not just from the alcohol. For some reason, he felt like he was meeting another set of parents besides yours.
(That too required some pivoting.)
So, you’d like, drop everything? Taehyung added as he sipped conspiratorially on his glass of wine.
Jungkook had to hold himself back from answering too quickly but it didn’t help that he saw you emerging from the corner.
Noteverything, he thought.
He couldn’t opt out of certain cases but he could push back most deadlines. But, most of the time though, he really would drop everything. At his silence, Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a knowing glance and he had to clear his throat as you approached, asking whether he was being treated nicely.
“Admit it, you were sowhipped for me,” you grinned. Jungkook rolled his eyes, his lips twitching up.
“You purposefully got caught at every chance just to see me, remember?”
You tilt his chin upwards, forcing him to meet you in the eye.
“But you liked me first.”
You had a point. The moment he walked into the Yongsan-gu precinct, he had concluded that your first encounter was also thee time he started to like you. He couldn’t really describe it then, overwhelmed at the new environment he had to navigate but there was the inevitable pull of a crush flowering between the cracks. Now, he tried his best to sport a scowl but his body betrays him through a scalding blush.
“Let me work.”
“Ah, so it is a yes,” you deemed, pressing the tip of your finger harder on his skin.
Jungkook sighs, tilting his chin down, catching the tip of your finger between his teeth. You gasped, jerking it back.
“Why do I even put up with you?”
You place your hands atop the armrests, hauling him forward that he doesn’t have time to think.
(You kissing him might also having something to do with that.)
“Because I’m awesome,” you whispered, right onto his mouth, he smiles, “and I’m fucking out of this world.”
You lean again, and he groans as you place your hands on his shoulders, “and I’m cute, I mean,” you murmured, arching into him, making him dizzy, “I could go on…”
None of the things you said were false. Jungkook confirms this as his heart is knocking against his ribcage in an unsteady rhythm. It’s another lost battle.
“Not cute enough to take me away from this affidavit.”
“Really?”
Your tone veers into that soft, lilting inquiry. Makes Jungkook think Nowhile being like putty in your hands.
“Yeah.”
(A total lie.)
You nip at his bottom lip and he claws at the chair as a vie for self-control. Then, you hop off the desk, making some space before climbing onto his lap.
Fuck.
-
There’s something about corporate life that suits Jungkook so much.
The theatrics of it, the marathon hours, the entire persona he slips into - he handles it with primordial ease. A model for anyone striving for what a cookie-cutter success looks like. Practically, he’s fodder for your parents whims. But in a way, he’s different. Jungkook had integrity.And he was pretty cute. You couldn’t think of your day without his smile or his doting affection, which was honestly the crux of Jimin or Taehyung’s teasing.
Jungkook used to be one of the stiffs to you, Jimin laughed over a bottle of soju, his cheeks a deep rose.
He might still be, just in a different sense, Taehyung quips, which lands a punch to his ribs from you.
Leave him alone, you exclaimed, hogging the bottle for yourself.
You weren’t really meant to follow him up to his office but he walked into the floor of the building looking right at home. No doubt, you garnered a few raised eyebrows at your outfit but the way Jungkook appeared at his workplace made the prospect of being a lawyer appealing for the split second it took for you both to embark the elevator going up. That and the fact that he had immaculate taste in tailored suits and was less unkempt in the office than the drowsier version of himself who trails after you at all hours in the day.
Now, in his office, surrounded by dull greys and whites and wide-screen monitors, all you wanted was to leave with him in tow.
Too bad he’s acted so stubborn that you had to work a little harder, clambering onto his lap and shifting your hips with the right amount of pressure to wrench his attention away from that meddlesome affidavit he is so affectionate towards onto you. Admittedly however, it didn’t take thatmuch once it starts rolling. Jungkook never had a propensity to lie, especially with how much he likes you, whether that was through words or his actions. You’ve always respected him for that, but at the same time, it made you want to push his buttons a little more and hear that soft groan muffled against your skin.
“We’re in my office,” he sighs, placing a tighter grip on your hips.
Duh.
“Live a little,” you retorted, gasping as he deepened the kiss, his tongue a heavy and wet intrusion and deliciously warm. His dwindling reserve is marked by his hand supporting the small of your back as he used his other hand to scrunch the back of your shirt, right between your shoulder blades. He groans out your name and you smile into the kiss.
“C’mon Mr. Jeon, don’t be such a prude.”
That seems to do something to him as he regains some power. He rocks your hips gently, experimental for a moment. Truthfully, these past weeks have been an ordeal and to not make a habit of being dramatic, you didfeel somewhat starved for affection. Usually, your trips to here were rare, owing to the fact that your mother’s office was merely a stone’s throw away and it was boring. But, as Jungkook is still kissing you, pairing your moans with his barely-there grunts, that was enough to appease. You lean back, hands curled on his chest, feeling the way his heart was racing into an unbearable tempo. A glance shows that his eyes were glazed, his lips a pretty shade of pink, and his cheeks were tinted despite his restraint.
“You really want to stay?” You asked, sounding it right on his lips. He tightens his arms around your waist, large hands squeezing as his fingers scrabble against your outfits, wrinkling it further.
“I have to,” he murmurs, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. The action sends a veritable shiver down your spine, he kisses you harder, stifling your reply, you’re hips barely move but it’s gotten too warm as you press closer.
“You sure?”
At that, you wiggle your hips, grinding with more pressure until his hands secure themselves on your waist and he greets you with a reprimanding expression in the arch of his brow. Though he places his hands on your thighs, nails pinching you slightly as you feel him already hard beneath you. He says your name as you rock forward, mouth parting slightly as he instinctively follow your movements.
“Careful,” Jungkook breathes out, his fingers inching higher, teasing the hem of your shorts. You smooth your hands over his broad shoulders, aware of the tension laying there in knots.
“It’s fine,” you whispered softly on the shell of his ear. It’s a risk that you’re pedalling, straight up grinding on his lap in an office that’s mostly glass, with the view of city on his back and the hallway on yours. Jungkook relents by giving you a quick peck, muttering your name in a sound warning, a signal to not go overboard, or perhaps that he’d like to keep his job.
But what sense is cautioning against taking things too far when in reality, that’s what you both loved to do?
“It’s not like anyone’s looking for you right now.”
“C’mon,” he groans, you feel him go taut, his hips betraying his words as they rise up as you retreat. You kiss the corner of his mouth, grasping his shoulders tighter, using that to grind fully, relishing in his breathy sigh. He’s back to being tense, his hands practically bruising your hips as you nip at his earlobe, coaxing and coaxing.
“I can do this all night,” you teased, and you pull back in time to see the flutter of his eyelashes, his lips parting ever so slightly as he waits, and you deliver by kissing along his neck, “if you wanted to.”
“I - fuck,” he gasped.
You pressed yourself against him more insistently. There’s nothing quite like it when Jungkook surrenders, letting you take over and toeing the line from the reasonable to downright capricious.
“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” You whispered, sliding your teeth on the heated column of his neck, “someone coming in while we’re fucking.”
You punctuate this with a roll of your hips, right over his straining cock, confined in his trousers to no avail. But Jungkook snaps out of it, bunching his fist over your shirt forcefully.
“Behave,” he said through gritted teeth. Again with that word. You found that he liked throwing it around like a Freudian slip of sorts.
You trace your nose along the side his neck, nipping at the skin and soothing it with the swipe of your tongue. Jungkook groans, depleting again, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer. Back to his prudish ways, you pull away, reigning in yourself and steadying your breath. He blinks back, adorable in his confusion. You run your finger down the buttons on his shirt, reverting the moment to something innocuous, just you sitting on his lap, smiling innocently.
“Maybe I should get you a new tie,” you comment, loosening it from the worrisome knot, “less of the blue, more purple.”
Jungkook looks as if being toyed with equates to completing a marathon, his breathing off kilter, his body heated up from where you were on in moments ago.
“I have a few places in mind,” you carried on, making no effort to move your hips anymore, “good ones too.”
“Yeah, fine,” he says eventually, “maybe not now, though.”
You grinned, successful in your own right as he doesn’t let you go even as you stand up. The monitors have long since fallen asleep, the office is subdued in muted lighting, and the hush is absorbed in the grey carpets. Seoul winks constantly, its lights bright but minute. Jungkook gives you a final kiss, his hand at the nape of your neck, his body too warm and tempting.
“You spend too much time here,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck, he leans forward and supports you, his hold is strong and unwavering.
“What if I needed a break from you, mn?”
You rolled your eyes, mussing up his hair, tugging with slight force that he groans on your mouth, “don’t be mean.”
Since he grins into the kiss, you let it go, amused at his attempt at playing up the severity of abandoning something that shouldn’tbe done during this unreasonable hour.
On the way down, past the averted eyes of security and the wary gaze of the freshly graduated trainees working later than expected, Jungkook keeps his arm around your waist, his grip being anything but possessive.
-
The tires of your car probably left marks on the road from how reckless you were driving. Jungkook didn’t let go of his grip on his seatbelt once as you navigated the streets, taking each turn and direction with unparalleled confidence.
Slow down, he warned.
You pursed your lips but pared the speed a little.
Once back, the lights in Jungkook’s apartment don’t get a chance to be turned on from the moment you crossed the threshold. He scoops you in his arms and you hold on, laughing as he strides into the bedroom, renewed.
“Someone’s eager -” you said, but was promptly cut off by the crush of his lips on yours, then a rough tug of your clothes away from your body. You help him, tugging your shorts and underwear off and everything on your top half till you’re bare. His eyes take on a sort of intimidating focus and you grab at his belt after ridding him of his tie, tugging constantly and clumsily. He kisses you again, letting you untuck his shirt, undo the stubborn buttons that kept you away from his skin. You’re frantic yet determined, but in his impatience, he shoves your thigh up, spreading you wide, grinding down his clothed crotch till you shivered, moaning against his lips.
“Fuck,” he sighed, his voice too tame and pliable.
You practically ended up ripping his shirt away, slamming your palm on his firm abdomen, the definition of his abs are far too warm, and the firmness of the muscles feel so nice when your nails dig into them. You kiss him deeper, licking into his mouth, not caring that everything gets so messy and slippery, and the thud of his belt meeting the floor gave you motivation to finally push his underwear and trousers down. He wastes no time reuniting with you, pressing his hard cock on your wet slit, nudging the tip on your clit. You moaned at the feeling, the pleasure coiling into something overwhelming. It’s a rocking tease, the purposeful brush of the tip away from your throbbing core that you hopelessly clench around nothing.
“Jungkook,please,” you whined, nails running on his broad back, the press of the mattress on coupled with the weight of him on top was so deliciously stifling that your legs were shaking. He fists his hand in your hair, the other on your side as he continues his torture, rolling his hips, wetting his cock from your juices, the lewd noises stealing the breath from your lungs.
“Hgnh, fuck,” you gasped, as he murmurs your name on your neck, the savage nip of his teeth feels like it was enough to mark, but you loved that.
“Can’t fucking believe I left the office,” he groaned as you cant your hips higher, catching the tip of his cock in your soaked core.
“There’s always tomorrow,” you offered, reaching down, grasping his cock and running it along your throbbing slit. He balks, the strength leaving him as you positioned him better.
“Itistomorrow,” he sighed, pushing his hips forwards till you’re writhing, the stretch burning at first but then it falls away to something good, something addictive. It takes a few seconds to adjust, both of you kissing and kissing, melting into each other in a way that eases the intrusion for you and tempers the sensation for him.
“You want to stop?”
Jungkook shakes his head, cupping your face as he surges forward, bottoming out. You gasp at the feeling of his cock nestled so deep, your clit rubbing at the base.
“No,” he adds, moaning as your pussy spasmed around him.
A rush of air escaping your lips as he mouths lower, lower till his teeth is set on your nipple, tugging hard but only for it to feel good, too fucking good. Your back arches up as he releases it, sucking at the other one till you’re shaking. Your thighs tense on his sides, a small involuntary moan accompanies the way he retreats his hips only to plunge down, his cock disappearing inside you in a wet suction.
“Ah,fuck,” you moaned, shutting your eyes, succumbing to the heat that surged along your body, your hand grasping at the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging till he sighs out a groan. It’s slow at first, largely to savour the fact that you were both on an actual bed for once instead of a car (or against the wall). Jungkook reaches down, thumbing your clit and your hips kick up instinctively, the pleasure seeping everywhere, an instant fire licking up your veins.
“S-shit,” he stuttered, gasping into the kiss, his tongue an eager slide against yours, the weight of him, the deliberate pace of his thrusts, his cock stretching you in this angle that your legs hitch up, anchoring him at his sides - it’s dizzying. Your mind empties, your response to the forceful plunge of his hips intuitive. You were saying whatever the fuck was roaring in the pleasure-riddle haze of your mind and rather embarrassingly, it results in -
“Jungkook,ahn,fuck, y-you’re so big.”
He filters a groan right onto your mouth and you knew that it not only feltgood for him but that he was caught off guard - shyto be exact. You nipped at his bottom lip, long past that stage, finding home in each other, his touch under your skin and his voice a familiar echo.
It hasn’t been thatlong since you both decided that you were ‘official’ and it had taken a few slip ups on your part to gauge that Jungkook likedbeing praised. This was true irrespective of the context, although he had a better time handling comments about his job than those in bed. But it was endearing to have him trip over his words in front of your parents over dinner, despite being a decorated litigator with his repertoire being nothing short of impressive.
“A-ah,” he gasped, slotting a hand at the back of your knee, pressing your thigh close to your chest, going so deep that you shudder. You kiss him gently this time, knowing that he was quickly fending off the desire to finish first and the thought made you smile into the kiss, clenching around his cock as an afterthought.
“You feel so good,” you sighed, clinging onto the broad expanse of his shoulders, nails digging onto the firm muscles that articulated each movement. And when he doesn’t talk for the moment, instead ramming his hips down, you can barely think, absorbing his moans, low and deep, just enough to hint at the way he was falling apart, all due to your doing.
You’re panting as you tuck your head down, looking at where you’re connected, the shiny gleam of his length surging inside you, filling you up, sticky strings of arousal snapping at the upstroke. Snaking your hand down, you exposed your clit, moaning at the way it saturates the pleasure, the obscene schlickas his cock drive forward and withdraws at the tip. He says your name, sounding irritated - desperate.
“Fuck, don’t do that,” he protests belatedly, his voice all ragged while you tip your hips down, your pussy dripping onto the sheets. “I won’t last.”
You laughed, resulting in your walls spasming involuntarily and it tears a growl from the back of his throat. You’re pressed even harder onto the bed, Jungkook’s head bowing down, teeth grazing at your nipple as he tugs and circles his tongue. You jolt, his hips grinding insistently that you’re pinned. Small gasps spill from your lips, uncontrollable ah-ah-ahn’s,breathy and high, intoxicated.
It was unnerving at first, to be thisvocal, thinking that the first few times were a fluke. It might have been the thrill of getting caught orthe fact that you were especially horny whenever you and Jungkook got together. All factors being reasonably outside of your control, awakening this uncharacteristic response.
But you figured (and admitted) that it was because Jungkook was thatreceptive, and knew how to make you feel good. Also, you were somewhat of a tease and he was a relentless go-getter, partial to proving people wrong.
(Of which you weren’t an exception.)
You’d never forget how Jungkook held onto what you said in passing, something about not really being one to ‘sound out’ how good it feels.
I don’t know, maybe it’s because I haven’t had the best experience.
That was, in part, the truth, but you may have embellished it on the account of him not being able to tear gaze away from the pesky laptop screen at his home office in spite of you wearing next to nothing that day.
Of course, there was work. You weren’t totally oblivious to the demands of a legal career where the hours stretched, veering into the unhealthy, but what was there to do? The lingerie was expensive and you skipped a night of running laps around Seoul with Jimin and Taehyung only to find your boyfriend chained to his desk, practically unresponsive.
Needless to say, you ignited Jungkook’s competitive streak and there hasn’t been a quiet night since.
You feel him go faster and you hold on as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, the heat of his skin and the laboured pants matching your own. You whimpered at the wet squelch of his cock pushing inside you in this unbelievably easy glide, your exhales shaky. You lean back as he raises himself, those strong arms corded in muscle, the red flush of his skin from his chest, seeping up his neck, pinching his cheeks red. You loved him like that, pupils blown, the hinge of his jaw tight as you bite your bottom lip to gain some semblance of propriety by muting your moans, which was futile as you cupped your tits and tug at your nipples.
Instead of slowing, he fucks you faster, his hips driving down, his cock stretching your pussy, face now buried at the space by your neck, his grunts audible and thrilling as you raise your legs, hips meeting him halfway.
“Fuck,” he groans, your arm clinging onto his shoulder, hyper aware at the fleshy ripple of your thighs, pussy so wet and snatching his cock in a vice, so close that there was nothing between you apart from those desperate, quick motions.
“J-jungkook,” you gasped, mindlessly repetitive in saying his name, breaking it on the crook of his neck as you feel it, you feel the peak as he growls, fucking you so hard that you cry out.
And it’s delirious, almost inexplicable how it all crashes down on you, breathless as you came, trembling through it, convulsing and seizing. Jungkook moaned, spilling inside in this lewd squelch,spilling until the warmth makes you dizzy, forced out of your pussy and onto the sheets, inner thighs slippery and coated. But he doesn’t stop, spurred by your soft cries, the locking of your arms around his neck, his thrusts slowing but deepening, and you’re so sensitive that you came again, your walls fluttering, incidentally bearing down on his cock that he snarled, bracing you against him.
“Fuck,” he moaned, “fuck.”
He finds a space on your neck, the sharp bite of his teeth heightened everything else that you muffled a high-pitched cry on his shoulder, your hips trembling underneath him. Your mind goes blank, it was too much: the clutch of your pussy like a vice around his cock, the air around you heavy from arousal, the sheets all clammy.
“Hgnh,ah,yes,” you slurred, panting as Jungkook slowed to a drowsy pace, his thrusts quietening into nothing as your heart continued its rabbity pulse. But eventually, you both keep rocking against each other, trapping yourselves in the aftershocks, electric bolts welding your veins together, heat spreading until the phosphenes behinds your eyes settled into black.
You laughed at the satiation you experienced, floating through it. Jungkook grunted, softening over you, nosing along your jaw, finding your lips.
“Hm,” you hummed, happy in the kiss.
“Mn.”
He leans his head back and you kiss the mole at the bottom of his lip. You smoothed a hand down his chest, all the way down, circling your fingers around the base of his cock, enjoying the pleased moan that he breathed out as he pushed his hips forward, thrusting shallowly, making everything messy. Then, he started to kiss you again, till his lips were all over your face, till you were laughing in a half-hearted protest.
(But you’d happily let him, for as long as he liked.)
It’s well into dawn and the sun peeks through the blinds, your bodies threatening to melt into the sheets. Usually, you’d be racing along the highway in your bright orange Mustang and Jungkook would be behind his desk, faithful to his work. But now, he holds you close, your hearts thudding slowly, your skin tacky and warm.
“We should start a practice or something,” he mumbles later on, out of the blue.
“Why?”
“So you can help we with the workload,” he replies, sounding adorably sleepy.
Ah, those damn affidavits.
You scoffed, missing the interior of your car suddenly, “no thank you.”
“I bet you’d be great,” he said, stifling a yawn.
Despite your sleep-addled brain, a part of you knows that he’s right.
-
“I told you that it was hot!”
Jungkook winces and covers his mouth with the palm of his hand, a sorry sight after only four hours of sleep. The sting on his tongue makes it swell, he sets the cup of coffee down on the table. He finds it unfair that you were only wearing his shirt after showering together but he was dressed in a full suit and had to leave for work.
“I’m late,” he replied, springing his collar up so that he could drape his tie over the neck.
You approached him, finishing off the final touches, tying it and pulling it snug.
“I’ll drive.”
His stomach turns at the prospect and the length of his silence renders your smile into a laugh.
“Scared?”
Trying to be nonchalant, he shakes his head but the tremble in his bottom lip likely betrayed him. You smooth your hands over his chest, tugging his lapels into place. He already missed you and he hasn’t even crossed the threshold of his apartment.
“I don’t have time to eat but I’ll see you later?”
You sport a slight pout, which he leans to kiss. Breakfast was sacrificed for a couple more minutes of the shower. But he knows that the choice wasn’t a regret. Your arms loop over his neck and he embraces you tighter.
“I have back to back meetings with clients today.”
You licked at his bottom lip and he feels his insides flip.
“So can I drive you then?”
Jungkook sighs, pinching your chin between his fingers as you tug him towards the kitchen island. He mutters your name, albeit weakly. He really was going to be late if he didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes.
“Please stay within the speed limit,” he cautions. You grinned, careful to not mess up his hair.
(He kind of wished that you did.)
He slides his hand down, down till it meets your bare thigh, his gropes at the soft flesh as you open your mouth wider, soft kisses coming so easy that he’s drunk. You hum a vague assent and he squeezes your hip.
“Maybe I’ll pay Namjoon a visit, I haven’t seen him in a while,” you mused, a thinly veiled threat.
He groans, pinching your sides as a tame warning.
“I won’t go all the way to Yongsan to bail you out at 2AM.”
You part, laughing as he tried his best to gauge a tickle war. He strides around the open living space as you desperately try and avoid him, the hem of his shirt fluttering around your thighs. The sunlight flooding the room bathes you in the most wonderful way. He manages to scoop you up, ignoring the immediate wrinkles it presses on his suit as he kissed at the skin peeking between the buttons. He sits you both on the couch, you steady on his lap, your arm around his shoulders as he runs his touch along your bare thigh.
“C’mon, I know that you’d do anything for me, Jeon.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer straight away because of course he would. He makes sure to meet you in the eye, his gaze surveying your features, tucking this moment in the back of his mind to revisit when he was worn down by everything else around him.
So he says it because it feels right.
“That’s ‘cause I love you.”
You raised your eyebrows, a pure display of shock. He catches up with his words, his mouth parting to rectify but he decides against it. He may be slow to admit his feelings but he prides himself in being honest. You wait for a moment then, in an act that is more surprising than anything, you hide your face by his neck. Worried, he slopes his hand up your back, thinking he did something wrong.
“You’re so annoying,” you said, your voice muffled.
He laughs, thrown off.
“Why?”
“Because,” you whispered, going all soft.
You pull back and he touches the back of his hand by your cheek, finding it warm. It makes him smile that you’re genuinely flustered for once.
“Because?”
Unable to meet him in the eye, you trace your finger along the pocket square, thumbing at the seam.
Ah.
You were getting shy.
Motivated, he hitches you to a steadier position on his lap, his hands clutching at your hips.
“But I do!”
You shove at him, hiding your face behind your hands, “stop!”
He kisses you again, everywhere really, happy that you were this adorable after being confronted by how much he loves you.
“I love you,” he murmured, kissing that space by your neck, and you laughed. But it’s a shaky laugh, your hands on his shoulders as he supported your back.
“I -” you began, unsure, “same.”
Thatmakes him laugh, so he kisses you harder, grinning.
“Same?”
You huff, pressing your chest against him as he draws you closer. He waits as patience has always served him well.
“Iloveyou.”
Jungkook pulled back, mildly offended but totally endeared.
“What was that?”
You push at him weakly, rolling your eyes. Then, you frame his face with your hands, as if this was the only time he’ll hear it.
“I.”
You enunciate with flair.
“Love.”
You press your fingers, messing his hair up a bit.
“You.”
And this is how it happens. On an ordinary weekday morning, on the couch of his untidy living room, with him dressed in his suit and you in his shirt. He thinks that he’d like to bottle this up and preserve this bliss. You squirmed on his lap and he tucks your hair behind your ear as you melt into his touch. Unable to help it, he leans forward, kissing you again, because so far, his life’s been great, and he might be late but there’s nowhere he’d rather be right now.
So he says it again, because he wants to and he can.
Summary:He liked to take his time with you in moments like these. Something about getting back on stage. Something about being back in his element. Something about the roar of the crowd, a tangible, real moment where he was no longer performing in front of numbers at the top left corner or an LED screen.
Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language, smut (fem-reader; unprotected sex; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; doggy; finger-sucking; slight cock warming; everything that comes with post-concert high tbh lmao); Fluff; idol!AU established relationship :’)
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-
He liked to take his time with you in moments like these.
Something about getting back on stage.
Something about being back in his element.
Something about the roar of the crowd, a tangible, real moment where he was no longer performing in front of numbers at the top left corner or an LED screen.
The euphoric feeling doesn’t get left on the stage. It lingers, draping over his body, making it thrum as if he was possessed by something.
You fed off his own post-concert high, tethered to an energy, this emotion that’s bigger than him.
The lights that bordered the headboard were turned low and you shiver on the grey sheets, the strength of your arms giving out while Yoongi keeps a firm grip on your hips. Breathy gasps against the fibres of the bed cover, so soft but that didn’t matter, your skin will come up raw and tender from the pressure of his body against yours.
You didn’t know how it escalated from lazy kisses right after the shower. Then again, you always lost yourself when you were in his arms.
“Y-yoongi…” you gasped as he yanks you back harshly on his cock, the dull slap of his hips against the flesh of your ass ending in a resounding slap.You were so wet, taking his cock in an easy, frictionless suck. From the upstroke, his cock comes away in sticky strings that cool due to the ventilation that circulated the room.
“Mn?”
It would be different each time. Tonight however, his hum was an acute sound, prompting your body to tighten, sticking you in an endless loop of pleasure, as if every question you asked him was rhetorical. He surges forward, pushing the breath you’d been holding in out, heating up the bed with the blaze of your desire. Desperate for anything and tired of being edged, you fist the white cotton in front of you, eyes shutting to cloak the dull colours of the hotel as his thrusts slowed to a drag.
Yoongi’s warm breath is on your skin, followed by the subtle scrape of his teeth on your shoulder blade. You tremble from the sharp feeling, whimpering as he nipped then laved over the marks with a swipe of his tongue. You feel him lean forward and moan at the angle, your pussy clamping around his length as he buried himself to the hilt. His open mouth sets on a space on your back, his deep voice turning into a heavy grunt as your legs continued to shake, pussy clenching over his length in an effort to keep him inside, lower back aching and arched, mindlessly fucking his cock as he stilled.
“Ahn, fuck,” you whimpered, knees sliding apart, sweat causing your skin to slip over his, ignoring the clumsy rhythm of your hips as you fucked yourself on his cock in an attempt to catch your release.
That’s when he forces you upright, a breathy moan escaping past your lips while his hand presses lightly over your throat. Through the haze of your vision, you see what’s immediately ahead. The hotel decor, which took up much of the wall, showcased a bright and sunny scene.
Clear skies. 72 degrees. Prepare for landing.
Inoffensive words in neat, legible font, complete with a backdrop of a beach occupied by scattered crowds.
Hardly the best view, given your current situation.
Yoongi cants his hips, incites shallow thrusts that had you breathing out lowly through your nose, practically vibrating. Then, you feel his hand creep up, long fingers articulating themselves until something presses against your bottom lip. Slick with your shared spit, he continues to prod the curved pad of his thumb, rubbing softly, sensitising your lips. You open your mouth, ignoring the angular chain of the bracelet he had trouble taking off, letting it emboss your chin. He inhales sharply as you wiped your tongue over the digit, suckling slightly, as much as you were allowed.
“What do you want, hm?”
It’s whispered so softly, his lips by the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly. You make an impatient noise, you wanted to see him, leaning your head back, away from his hand.
“W-wanna see you,” you breathed, almost falling forward if not for his arm strapped around your middle.
Gently, Yoongi pulls away and you slump forward, weak arms pushing so you could lay on your back, the backs of your thighs held down by his capable hands. You take a moment to appreciate him.
Dewy skin flushed in rose, broad shoulders, strong arms, and a faint smattering of dark hair that trailed down his abdomen. His hair was longer and a light russet, falling over his brow in soft tufts. Silver hoops and dark brown eyes, handsome as ever. He took the image of you in, a subtle, upward tug from the corner of his lip appearing despite his breathing being exaggerated, his hard cock glimmers from your shared arousal.
As soon as he lowered himself, your legs widen, allowing him to nestle himself in between. His hand cradles your face, the cold metal chain on his wrist made warm from your skin, your lips closing over his thumb in a slow suck. The feel of his cock slipping inside you prompted a moan, mouth opening even more, your eyes never once wavering from his as you grasped his wrist. He matches the thrust of his thumb with that of his cock, pressing on your tongue, coating it with your spit as your eyes flutter close.
“Ahssss,” he hissed, you sighed, your tongue swiping along the digit in a slick drag. He thrusts especially deep, your legs raising to accommodate.
You whined, a silent signal for more.
Just a little more.
And he understands, breath hitching as he pushed his thumb until you could feel it near the back of your throat, the cold silver of his bracelet thudding against your chin, your nails digging on the delicate skin of the inside of his forearm. Your throat closes up on instinct, eyes watering suddenly. After a few more shallow thrusts, the pad making a dent on your tongue, he slips it out, caressing your bottom lip, smearing spit over it.
“Good?” He asked, albeit through gritted teeth as you jerked from how he began to thrust more forcefully in your pussy, the gush of wetness of your folds easing the friction.
“Mnh, yeah,” you said, breathless.
And he sinks his cock further, deeper, deeper till you gripped his biceps, exchanging stifled moans, your nails coming down harder due to the stretch and the new angle. He takes your jaw in a solid grip, and you look straight into his eyes while he bottomed out again, fucking you in a steady, unwavering rhythm. The air grew hotter, sweat erupting from the relentless rocking of your bodies, the way his hard planes rubbed against your clit, his cock thrusting inside you in slow, deep strokes.
“Ah, fuck,” you moaned, your hand reaching up to tangle in those copper strands, pulling towards you, eradicating any distance despite it being cramped. Yoongi kisses you with fervour until you’re both panting in each other’s mouths, hurtling towards that peak. Sweat coats your skin, your hair sticks to your forehead, your temples, he moans in your mouth as your pussy pulsed over his cock, the audible schlickat each retreat making you tremble. You open your eyes, press your head back onto the firm mattress, watch as his jaw goes slack, his gaze boring into yours, brown pools alight with hunger as he fucked you harder in sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts.
“Ssssah,” he rasped, followed by a low moan, his features contracting in effort as you tipped your hips down, entire body tightening. At a particularly harsh thrust, you cried out, slapping your hand against his lower stomach, legs trying to snap shut, unable to comprehend the surge in pleasure each time his cock shoved itself inside your pussy. He leans forward, tugs your bottom lip with his teeth, your name in his deep voice, russet strands and pale skin in your vision.
“Y-yoongi, fuck… ah,shit,” you babbled, arching up, trying to cross your legs over his back, failing miserably. He winds a hand back, circles it over your calf, skating his broad palm down till it slots at the back of your knee, spreading you so wide that you gasped, shuddering as he ground his hips in a tight circle.
“Hgnh,fuck!”
He hummed, ending in a low growl as your pussy contracted around his cock, as tight and as wet as ever, so much so that he slipped out. Your hand shoots forward, heart in an erratic rhythm as you guided him back in your wet heat, gasping into the kiss as he groaned.
“Fuck, ah, fuck,” he grunted, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin, his cock piercing your velvet walls, mind clouding over until the only sound you register is the carnal gasp of your name on his lips.
“Yoongi,” you moaned, barely able to move while held down, but you wind your arms around his neck, catch the lobe of his ear, teeth clashing against the silver metal hoop.
“Fuck -“
You feel another gush of wetness spill past your folds, gooey slick that renders everything pliant, easing the stretch of his cock inside you. Yoongi just knew where to touch you and tease you, he knew how his deep voice affected you and he used all of this to render you into a pleasure-riddle stupor, clawing at him as you approached that blinding peak. You clenched around him, managing a choked moan through gritted teeth as you soared, encouraged by his praise, So good for me, so fucking tight, taking all of me, ah fuck.
And you were sure that he felt it, the way your pussy pulsed over him, closer and closer that you tighten your grip over him, tits crushed against his firm chest, his hand gripping your thigh so hard, that your limbs felt static.
“Ahshit, don’t stop,” you whimpered, loud enough to register that your words were slurred. His hips go faster, circling at the instroke. Your vision sparks, your moans muffled against his skin, shivering at the weight of him while he cups your ass to gain momentum, fucking into you in forceful thrusts until you were practically sobbing from the sheer pleasure of it all. He clutches at the flesh of your ass, finger digging and denting skin, leaving you no choice but to take it, drunk on ecstasy. He licks a flithy stripe from your jaw, his tongue slipping your mouth in a swift movement, wet lips on your own, his hand clasping your chin as he sucked your tongue.
“Mmpfh -“
When he parts from you, his skin is flushed, a light sheen of sweat trails over his pale skin, bottom lip curled only to unfurl to bare his teeth.
“Want to get filled up?” He panted, tongue resting at the corner of his mouth, his hips moving but not fast enough, fucking his cock into your pussy before withdrawing it to the tip, nudging the stiff nub of your clit.
“Hgnh, Yoongi, yes, yes,” you begged, pushing towards him, letting out a frustrated moan until he pitches forward, smacking his hard muscles against yours.
Something catches at your gut, like hot coals that exploded, searing your veins. Barely coherent, you make a grab for him, breath fanning against the crook of his neck, fingers yanking at the copper strands near the nape, shaking from the roughened thrusts. The subtle clinkof his jewellery, the way he tugs at your hair at the root, you gasp into his mouth, seeing fragments of his rosy skin, russet strands, hear the sound of his low grunt as you came in the messiest way, an almost endless, sticky drip that coated his cock in a plentiful gush, words escaping in the same manner as your thoughts dissolved. Yoongi let out a loud moan, rutting his hips in shallow, purposeful thrusts as you whimpered, searching for him, for a soft kiss, which he gave, grabbing the flesh of your thighs, kneading it as he hummed.
“Shit,” you said, breathless, melting in his arms as he set a steady pace again, this time parting from you and grasping your hips, lifting them from the bed. Your breath hitched as he dragged you back on his cock, your throbbing pussy still sensitive against any immediate impact but Yoongi was relentless. You arch up, throwing your head back and playing with your nipples, cupping your tits in a pathetic knead, anything to stay in your orgasm, legs just about flailing as he fucked you, his muscles strained, the lines on his abdomen defined, jaw set as his grunts pierced the sex-stained air. He lifts you high enough that what’s left touching the bed is your shoulder blades, your back in a pronounced curve, thighs ending in a fleshy smack each time he filled you to the hilt.
“Ah…ah,” you cried out, his broad palms squeezing your flesh, skin thudding against skin, nasty, wet sounds matching the gooey drip where you connected. Through the flutter of your lashes, you see the copper strands of hair stuck to his temples, the twitch in his features as you were both stripped back to the basest of desires.
As strange as it was at first to reconcile the fact that someone as warm, gentle, and trustworthy as Yoongi could become someone as carnal as the person he was in this moment, it wasn’t lost on you that he always had this simmering intensity. Sometimes, the realisation sprang up on you without much warning, like when you would brush past and he’d clasp your wrist in a possessive grip. Or when he would flip you over, pressing you up against the wall or any other flat surface, up till you were on your tip toes with your calves straining, or bent over in an obscene angle. The effect was the same: you were putty in his hands, body trembling from the harsh, deep stroke of his cock inside you.
“Ah…ssss,ah,” he pants, alternating it with sharp hisses as your pussy tightened around him intermittently. You feel another wave coming, another reverberation of acute pressure, already past the point of containment as you sense a sound building in his chest. After a few, rough thrusts, you come apart again, wailing uncontrollably, sticky hot gush over his pulsing cock, sweat intermingling with arousal, the smack of your hand against his thigh ringing as a sharp crack in the air. You whined, your swollen clit catching the base of his cock, helpless as Yoongi carried on, so you cupped your tits, pinching your nipples to maximise the sparks that burst everywhere, legs aching even if you were solely being held up by his sheer strength.
“Gonna cum,” he grunts, his fingers sinking over your flesh, nails impressing grooves for grip.
“I-inside,” you gasped, “please.”
And his jaw juts out in order for that final, ragged breath, a sudden burst of sound, pushing you onto the bed as your hips locked. Your moan comes out choked, watching Yoongi as he came, a long, drawn out ah,trembling in the delivery as he fell apart in acute, desperate relief. Hot spurts of his cum fill you up while pinned to the bed, immobilised for him, whimpering as he rode it out, thrusting his cock in and pushing his cum out, having it drip down your ass, staining the sheets.
You shiver as Yoongi kisses the side of your face as your pussy convulsed greedily, aided by the rapid contraction of your inner muscles, mind high and satiated. He props himself up and you’re rewarded with the image of a deep rose flush high on his cheeks, lips shiny with saliva, eyes shockingly dark yet glazed over, bright russet hair matted and messy.
“‘Mmh, Yoongi,” you panted, he pushes your hair away from your face, groaning as you shivered, the tremor making its way all the way down.
“Mh?”
You don’t even know why you said his name, the objective of that inquiry lost in the soft glaze of his eyes and the proximity you shared in the afterglow.
“‘Mm fuck,” you whispered, tucking your head under his chin, aware of the mess between your thighs. He reaches down, thumbing your clit lazily, spurring that whine that was waiting at the back of your throat. His cock twitches suddenly, and he dips his forehead over yours, a moan filtering past his lips, hips stuttering up and into you before stilling once more, rivulets of cum dripping lewdly onto the sheets.
You stay like that for a while, catching your breath at the comedown, your pussy slowing in its flex, calming in a drowsy pulse. Yoongi kisses you, catching the spool of your thoughts, chapped yet soft lips, so him, so Yoongi.You do so until you’re practically exchanging air, panting against each other once more.
Reality settles back in, the fuzzy details of the room come back in view. The shimmering expanse of Los Angeles outside with its surrounding buildings on the flat plane. The linen set in the velvet curtains hints at the square windows glowing neon white against the pitch black night.
“Mm, good,” you murmured after a while, your eyelids heavy, going lax on the firm mattress.
“Good,” Yoongi echoed, nudging his nose against yours, gingerly pulling out. You shivered, blinking up at him as he does his best to clean you both, his hair appearing auburn in the dim light, his features blissed out, all kinds of soft. You lean close, kissing his nose.
“Missed you,” you yawned, after things settled and you’re back in his arms.
“Was gone for three hours at most,” he whispered, though there was a distinct tone in his voice, indicative of the comfortable warmth you both shared. An unspoken reassurance that despite Yoongi being at the world’s stage, you can have this piece of him that no one else did, and that he let you. Being apart seemed more palpable these days, more apparent in the prospect of life restarting again. You nuzzle yourself against him, preceding to run your touch along his arm, searching for his hand beneath the sheets. Once your fingers are slotted together, your palms meet in an even pressure.
“Are you hungry? We can order some room service -”
“Later. We can sleep for now,” you said, squeezing his hand as he presses a kiss to your hair.
Yoongi assents, comfortable in the silence with you, then -
“Love you.”
You grinned, “love you too.”
He rubs his nose against yours, sappy as he is, his grin is as wide as the one on your face.
“You can’t stay mad at me forever Y/N,” Jungkook sighed as he continued to follow you around.
Your head shook back to Jungkook as you walked into the bedroom, hearing footsteps following behind you. You had lost count of how many times you had listened to him apologise, desperate to try and fix things after accidentally making a big hole for himself earlier in the day.
Just as you went to close the door behind you, Jungkook slid in through the door to join you in the room. “Jungkook, go away,” you tried to tell him, but his head shook, refusing to leave you alone without you at least hearing him out on things.
“Just give me two minutes,” he requested, watching you step back as soon as he stepped forward towards you. “I just need you to let me explain to you how sorry I am.”
Your head nodded, but before you listened to Jungkook, you excused yourself to the toilet for a couple of minutes. Jungkook sat down on the bed as you went into the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind you before opening up the cupboard door.
You looked past your toiletries that were on the shelf, reaching all the way to the back where your stick of lip balm was. As soon as you reached for it, your smile grew, walking across to the mirror with it as you took the lid off, making sure to apply a thick layer of balm to your lisp before returning to the bedroom, with the balm in your pocket.
“Can I talk now?” Jungkook asked you as soon as you appeared, patting the space beside him on the bed for you to sit down on. You kept your distance from Jungkook as he cleared his throat, glancing across at you. “You know how sorry I am, don’t you?”
“I don’t get why you had to be so mean to me Jungkook, it was so uncalled for.”
His head nodded in agreement with you, “I just wasn’t thinking, I took my frustrations out on you and that wasn’t fair. All you were trying to do was help me, and I threw it back in your face and made you feel like rubbish at the same time too.”
You continued to sit and listen as Jungkook explained himself, nodding your head as you paid close attention to him. If you were honest, you weren’t mad about him any longer, but you were enjoying listening to him grovel back across to you.
As soon as his two minutes were up, Jungkook stopped speaking, anxiously looking across to you. As the corners of your mouth turned up, he got a little bit more hopeful, edging slightly closer towards you, hoping that you had forgiven him.
He was still a little apprehensive as he stared across to meet your eyes. “Can we move on from this?” Jungkook asked you, finally allowing himself to relax when your head nodded in reply to him, wanting to do exactly the same.
“Why don’t you let me do something to prove to you how much I’ve forgiven you?” You offered, “why don’t I give you a kiss to let you know that all is forgotten?”
“A kiss? Well, I would definitely not say no to that.”
You shuffled yourself a little bit closer to Jungkook, “I hate when we argue like this, I wish that it would never happen between us.”
Just as Jungkook nodded in agreement, you leant forwards and pressed a kiss to his lips. Your smile was wide as you kissed Jungkook, quickly feeling his hands grab your shoulders and push you back, wiping his mouth with his hand.
“What the hell is that on your lips? Is this some sort of wind-up right now?”
Your laughter was loud as you watched Jungkook scrub at his mouth, desperate to get the taste of the balm away as soon as he possibly could. His eyes glared at you as you watched on, shaking your head at how dramatic he was.
“Do you not like it?” You teased, “it’s a new balm that I bought not too long ago. Take a look at it, you never know, you might be able to get used to it.”
As you brought the balm from your pocket, Jungkook took it from you and began to read through the label. His eyes narrowed as he read over what taste the balm was, noticing a picture of lemons on the very end of the wrapper too.
He threw the balm across the room as you continued to chuckle, grabbing your shoulders again and pinning you down on the bed. His expression was a picture as you stared up at Jungkook, knowing that you had drawn yourself level with him.
“What’s wrong? Is the balm not your cup of tea,” you innocently smiled, pretending to be clueless as to why Jungkook looked so disgruntled.
“You are one evil woman; do you know that?”
“I’m just getting a little bit of revenge,” you chimed, knowing that Jungkook couldn’t argue with you. “Just reminding you of how horrible I can be if you want to be horrible to me. I happen to quite like the taste of the lip balm anyway.”
“If I ever see you wearing that again then I might just disown you,” Jungkook promised you, “I’ve never tasted anything as gross in my entire life Y/N.”
His reaction had your sides hurting, you knew that Jungkook wouldn’t like it, but even he had managed to surprise you by just how much he disliked it, still liking his lips as the taste haunted him on the tip of his bottom lip.
“Will you be as mean to me next time?” You asked Jungkook, “or will you be nice now?”
His head shook at the smug smile that was on your face, “I’ll be nice, if it means that I won’t have to taste that stupid lip balm again. Where did you even get that from? I mean who decides to make lemon flavoured lip balm?”
“I’ve kept it well hidden, knowing that it would come in handy one day,” you informed him, “and it definitely did.”
His eyes rolled at how well you had managed to get back at him. “So, this is why you stropped off to the bedroom too? You didn’t need the toilet, did you? You just went into the bathroom to get your weapon of choice.”
Your head nodded as everything began to fall together for Jungkook, disappointed in himself more than anything else that he hadn’t noticed that you were up to something, too focused on trying to put things right and apologise to you.
“If I ever see that lip balm again, I’ll scream,” Jungkook assured you.
“It doesn’t even taste that bad.”
His eyes widened as you spoke, “I like most things Y/N, but that was absolutely grim. How are you laying there so comfortably knowing that you’ve got lemon lip balm on your lips? How are you not grossed out?”
Your shoulders shrugged in reply to him, “I think it tastes pretty sweet, mainly because it reminded you that I’m not someone to be messed with. Your face definitely made putting on lemon lip balm a worthwhile experience.”
“I’ve really got to be on my toes around you, what else have you got up your sleeve?” Jungkook enquired.
A chuckle came from you as you passed the item that you were creating across to Jin, adding to his pile that he needed to finish off for you.
“What are you laughing at?” Jin asked you as he turned round to pick up another after he was done.
“You,” you smiled back across to him, “I wasn’t sure if you’d enjoy this, but you seem to be in your element right now.”
“It’s a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”
Throughout the production you had listened to Jin humming and singing to himself as he concentrated. “Do you have any idea how much time you’ve saved me stepping up and helping me out tonight?”
“Maybe we should change the store so that it’s ours, I can help you out more often then.”
“It’s mine,” you joked in reply, “all you’ve done is help me out for one day.”
Jin nodded back to you, “I can help you out more often though from now on, I didn’t realise that it would be this much fun.”
“I didn’t realise that all I had to do was give you a glue gun and you’d enjoy yourself,” you smirked, “who knew it was that easy?”
“You know me Y/N, I’m easily pleased.”
Yoongi:
You watched nervously as Yoongi looked over the merch that you were packing, noticing one of the parcels with a photocard of him in it.
“Can I sign it?” Yoongi asked you as he picked it up, taking a look at which card of his it was.
“I mean, if you want to, you can,” you laughed, taken aback by his question, “I might have to start charging more if you do that.”
“It’ll be a nice surprise for whoever gets it.”
Your head nodded in agreement with him, “hopefully if they open up the parcel to see that it’s signed too, they will leave me a nice review. There is so much negativity on my review page right now.”
“If it means that it’ll help your business, I’ll sign everything here if you want me to Y/N.”
“It’s alright,” you chuckled, “most of it is Jungkook’s merch anyway I’m afraid.”
Yoongi’s eyes rolled at your remark, “why doesn’t that surprise me at all? We should send stuff to remind people that I’m the best.”
“You’re the best in my eyes,” you promised him, “but whether you’re the best in the eyes of your fans remains to be seen.”
“They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”
Hoseok:
Your head shook as you looked over your list of orders, counting through it again and again to make sure that you didn’t miss a single one.
“Why do you always do this to yourself every holidays?” Hobi asked you as he looked at your paper.
“Do what?” You quizzed in reply, with not a second to spare to even look at him as you pulled out your design box from under your bed.
“Always put yourself under big pressure.”
Your shoulders shrugged as you began to get out what you needed. “I like knowing my gifts make the holidays more exciting for people, even if it does sometimes end up with me going slightly up the wall.”
“Is there anything that I can do to try and ease some of the pressure that’s on your shoulders?”
“A drink?” You offered, “I have a feeling that I’ll get through a lot of coffee.”
Hobi nodded as he stood up from your bed, “I’m going to stay for a while and keep an eye on you, not let you work yourself too hard.”
“I’ll be alright, this isn’t my first busy holiday season,” you tried to assure him, but Hobi’s head still shook back across at you.
“I’m staying, even just for the company.”
Namjoon:
You had turned the house upside down as you searched for the missing item of the order that you were packing, unable to find it anywhere.
“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked as he walked in to find just about everything thrown aside.
“I’m missing a phone case to send to this order,” you told him, turning the cushions off of the sofa to see if it had slipped down there.
“Alright, let’s try and find it together.”
Namjoon placed his phone into his pocket before having a look around the house too. “It’s a pretty simple case design, just some nice flowers and spring things on it,” you told Namjoon so that he knew what to look for.
“It’s got to be here somewhere, are you sure that you’ve not taken it out of this room at all?”
“Absolutely,” you sighed, “I saw it maybe half an hour ago max.”
Namjoon continued to search, lifting up a pile of paperwork as something hit the floor, “I think the phone case might be located.”
“Thank goodness,” you hummed, glancing down to see the phone case on the floor. “Joon, you’ve just saved me there.”
“We all lose things from time to time.”
Jimin:
A proud smile formed on Jimin’s face as he took the badge that he had made out of the machine, holding it up under the light to check it.
“Is this right?” He asked you, holding it out for you to take from him to check yourself too.
“It looks perfect,” you told him as soon as you looked at it, checking it over and nodding your head at all of the fine details.
“How many more do you need making?”
Your smile turned up as Jimin picked up the things that he needed to make another badge. “Are you absolutely sure that you don’t mind helping me out doing this? Haven’t you got things to be doing for work?”
“I’m actually enjoying helping you out, who knew badge making could be so much fun?”
“I really appreciate it,” you told him, “I’ve been rushed off of my feet.”
Jimin quickly offered you a reassuring smile, “you know that whenever you need a helping hand, I’m always here to step in Y/N.”
“I do,” you acknowledged, “and you’ve dug me out of a massive hole right now too, I took on way too many orders this time.”
“We’ll get it done together, don’t worry.”
Taehyung:
His nose turned up as Taehyung read through the delivery details of the order that you had shown him, shaking his head in disbelief at it.
“Can I reply?” He laughed, keen to give the woman a taste of her own medicine in response.
“I’ve got to try and be professional,” you reminded him, taking your laptop back, “as much as I want to go and tell her to stuff her order.”
“I can’t believe some people are so rude.”
Your shoulders shrugged, having got through a few rude requesters throughout your years of running your shop. “There are definitely a few people named Karen lurking about ready to order on Etsy.”
“I can’t believe you have to do her order after how she spoke to you, it’s unfair on you Y/N.”
“It’s money,” you laughed, “that’s the best way for me to look at it.”
A sigh came from Taehyung as he watched you get started, “can’t you write a note in her parcel telling her to stop being such a misery.”
“I wish,” you smiled in reply to him, “I just trust that eventually one day their nastiness will come back to haunt them.”
“Just kill them with kindness instead.”
Jungkook:
His shoulders shrugged as Jungkook looked over the parcels that you had laid out across the living room, trying to make sure that each one was perfect.
“Are you going to post all of these tomorrow?” He quizzed, looking over your address stickers.
“I might only be able to do a few, my bag isn’t big enough to carry them all down,” you replied, continuing to add the final touches.
“You’re walking down with all of this?”
Your head nodded in reply to Jungkook, with no car, you had no other choice to get the parcels sent off in time. “I reckon if I walk down with some tomorrow and some the day after I’ll get them all shipped off.”
“That’s ridiculous, why don’t I drive you down on my lunch break tomorrow to get them all posted?”
“I can’t expect you to do that,” you smiled, “I’ll be alright walking.”
Jungkook’s head shook back at you, “I wasn’t offering Y/N, I was telling you. I’ve got time, and you need to get these sent off, right?”
“I do,” you chuckled, knowing that Jungkook wasn’t going to argue with you, “thank you for offering to help me out with delivering Kook.”
A chuckle came from you as Jin laid himself down beside your bump on the bed, not expecting him to go anywhere else. The left side of your bump had well and truly become his home, finding himself often falling asleep for the night curled up right by your side.
Once Jin had made himself comfortable, he brought his hand across to rest it against the top of your baby bump, instinctively drawing patterns over it as he patiently waited for a bit of movement.
He would lay all night long to feel just a single kick from your baby, he never tired of feeling around, hoping that eventually he would be able to catch a little kick against the palm of my hand.
“How’s my favourite girl?” Jin asked, pressing a kiss to the side of your bump.
Straight away, you knew that he wasn’t talking to you. You had taken a backseat when it came to your daughter, with Jin doting on her more than anyone else. Of course, he cared about you, but the apple of his eye had definitely changed to someone a little bit smaller.
“Have you been trouble today?” He then asked your bump, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a response, tilting his head back instead so that he was able to look up at you.
Your head nodded in reply to him on your daughter’s behalf, “she’s been a right little wriggler today, kicking and fussing every time I’ve stood up to go and do anything.”
Jin’s eyes rolled as he tapped his hand gently over the top of your bump to let her know that she had done wrong. Although she had no idea what was going on, Jin still liked to involve her in absolutely everything, making sure to talk to her as much as he possibly could too.
“Do you need anything? You’re not in any pain, are you?” Jin asked, turning his attention to you, fretting as usual that something was up with you and that you weren’t letting on.
Your head quickly shook in response though, having taken the weight off of your feet after lying down in bed, your body felt alright. It was a part of pregnancy, and oddly, the discomfort was something that you were beginning to get used to.
“I think she must have known that you weren’t here today, that’s why she was wriggling, because she missed you.”
A quiet laugh came from Jin as his eyes looked back down to your bump again. “We’ve definitely got a daddy’s girl growing in that bump of yours Y/N, I can just feel it,” he told you, pressing a kiss against the side of it too.
“With how she’s been recently, I think I’ll have to agree.”
There always seemed to be a little more movement in your bump when Jin was talking which was your first clue that your daughter adored Jin. But more importantly, whenever he laid beside your bump and held onto it, she seemed to be calmer, almost as if she knew that Jin was there so that she could rest comfortably.
He took great pride in your baby bump, very protective whenever he was around. No one was allowed to touch your bump when Jin was around, his eyes would be on you at all times to make sure that no one pushed their luck either.
“Are you a daddy’s girl?” Jin asked, placing his hand around your bump, hoping to feel a kick, only for nothing to come in reply to him.
“Maybe she’s undecided yet,” you teased, reaching down to brush your hand over the top of his head, “you never know, she might be a mummy’s girl instead.”
Jin’s eyes rolled back across at you; he was pretty stubborn when he came to your daughter. More than anything he wanted a daddy’s girl; everyone knew that he wanted your daughter right by his side so that he could always take care of her.
The boys had teased him endlessly, something which you loved to be a spectator of. He hated whenever any of them talked to closely to your bump, not wanting your daughter to get confused between him and any of them.
“I can’t believe that she’ll be here in just a month now,” Jin whispered with a wide smile.
Every single day when you woke up, you got a reminder of how many days were left to your due date. Although you were getting nervous, Jin was only ever excited, those days couldn’t pass by soon enough for him for your daughter to arrive.
“Do you think she’ll know my voice when she comes?” Jin then asked you as his mind continued to wonder. “They always say don’t they that if you talk to a baby in a bump they’ll recognise voices, will they recognise mine?”
Your head nodded back at him, “I think you’ve probably talked out daughter’s ear off.”
A shy smile appeared on his face, “I’m just making sure that they feel involved and part of the family, we can’t leave our daughter out of all of the things that we’re doing, can we?”
“Of course not,” you chuckled, offering Jin a wide smile, “she might be sick of the sound of your voice though when she arrives, she listens to you constantly.”
Jin pushed gently against your side as you laughed back to him, noticing the look of disapproval that was on his face. He refused to allow anyone to knock him, even when that person was you, making sure that you knew that he was your daughter’s number one.
As much as you loved to tease Jin, you couldn’t hide the fact that you loved how much Jin spoke to your bump. Most nights you were able to glance down and watch him as he whispered to your bump and told them all about his day, making sure that he tried to remember as many of the details as possible.
“I’m not going to stop talking to the bump,” Jin told you, tracing his hand over the top of your bump still, “I won’t let her go for her to be able to avoid my voice.”
You knew that Jin meant every single word, your daughter was absolutely going to be his everything. He had booked the time off of work, cleared his schedule, and made plenty of time to at least spend a couple of weeks at home with you.
“Are you excited?” Jin smiled up at you.
“I am, are you?”
“Absolutely,” he smirked, not even having to think about an answer. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life being a dad, but most importantly I can’t wait to do everything with you right by my side too.”
Your head nodded in agreement with him, “you know as much as I love to joke, there is no one else in the world that I would like to do this with other than you Jin.”
“I see your smile when I talk to the baby, I know you don’t mean it when you mess with me,” he joked back across to you.
Your hand brushed over his head once again, “that’s one lucky little lady in there being able to call you dad.”
“I just want to make sure that I do the best job for her,” he confided in you, “I don’t ever want to let her down.”
“You won’t,” you assured him, “you’ll be amazing, I can already tell.”
As you picked up the phone, you heard Jin tell everyone to be quiet. “Y/N, what’s your favourite song of ours?” Jin asked you, without even saying hello.
“I quite like Boy with Luv,” you replied to Jin, hearing plenty of commotion in the background, “why are you asking me that so suddenly, what’s going on?”
Jin stepped aside so that he could talk to you quietly, “for the episode, we have to guess people’s favourite things.”
“I’m sure that there are plenty of other songs of yours that your fans like though,” you quickly told Jin, not wanting him to use your answer to represent everyone.
The boys had already gone for it though, “Boy with Luv is a popular song, we’re going to trust you and pick that as the fan’s favourite too.”
“Don’t do that because you’ll blame me if you guys lose.”
“We’re trusting in you Y/N,” Jin laughed in reply.
A groan came from you, “keep me on the phone until you find out the answer, so I know whether to run or not.”
“Yeah, you might not be welcome at the dorm tonight.”
Yoongi:
You quickly paused your programme as you noticed your phone ringing. “Y/N, tell Jungkook to go and pick on someone else?” Yoongi yelled down the phone.
“What are you on about?” You laughed, with no idea what was going on as you heard Jungkook ‘s laughter in the background as Yoongi told him to go away.
He was pushed and pulled in two different directions as he tried to talk to you, “can you tell Jungkook to get another member?”
“Why?” You asked him, wanting to know what it was that you were supposed to be doing. “If you’re playing a game, then isn’t Jungkook doing what he’s supposed to be doing?”
A groan came from Yoongi as you failed to do what he asked. “Y/N, you’re supposed to be on my side, help me get Jungkook to bugger off.”
“Who’s he going to go after if he can’t go after you in the game?”
“I don’t care who he gets,” Yoongi cried out to you.
A chuckle escaped from you as you heard how desperate he was. “Sorry, but I think you might have to fight this one yourself.”
“I can’t believe that you’ve let me down like this.”
Hoseok:
Your heart stopped when you looked down at your phone and noticed Hobi’s name on the screen. “Y/N?” A voice called out, not recognising it as Hobi’s.
“Hello?” You quizzed, taking a moment to work out that the voice that you actually heard was Namjoon’s, wondering why you hadn’t heard Hobi’s voice.
A sigh came from Namjoon before speaking to you, “I don’t suppose you’re able to get yourself to the hospital, are you?”
“W-why?” You nervously quizzed, fearing the worst as you remembered what it was that the boys were filming, knowing just how physical the episode was.
Namjoon knew that you knew too before saying a word. “There’s been a bit of an incident, Hobi might have had a bit too much confidence.”
“What’s he done Joon? Or would I rather just not know for now?”
“It’s easier to show you Y/N,” he told you in response.
Your head nodded, grabbing your coat. “I’ll drive to the hospital now; I can be there in about half an hour I reckon.”
“I’ll meet you outside to show you where.”
Namjoon:
You didn’t know what was going on as you answered Namjoon’s call, hearing plenty of noise down the line. “Y/N, can you hear me?” Namjoon shouted to you.
“I can hear you,” you yelled back to him, “what on earth are you doing? I thought that you were filming for run?” You asked him, recalling Namjoon’s schedule.
A laugh came from him in reply to your question, “we are, but there’s a couple of things that we left at the dorm.”
“Let me guess, you want me to go to the dorm and bring them to you?” You asked, reading Namjoon like a book, knowing exactly what he wanted from you.
Another laugh came from him, “I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate, but I promise that I’ll make it up to you for helping us out to get this done.”
“I can get to the dorm in twenty minutes if you tell me what I need.”
“I’ll send a text with a list on it,” Namjoon replied.
Your eyes widened slightly, “a list? How much have you left at the dorm? Did you not check before you left the dorm?”
“You know what we’re like, just a tad forgetful.”
Jimin:
As soon as you saw Jimin’s name pop up on your phone, you were worried, quickly accepting his call. “I’m exhausted,” was all that he said to you answered him.
“Is that all that you rang me for?” You asked him, shaking your head as you sat yourself down on the sofa, “why are you ringing me during the middle of filming run?”
Jimin could hear the panic that was in your voice, “I just thought I’d call and see how you are, what’s wrong with you?”
“I thought something bad had happened, you never ring me during filming,” you scolded him, taking several deep breaths to calm yourself back down.
A soft sigh came from Jimin as he listened to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I only rang because I’m tired and I want to hear your voice.”
“It’s fine, it’s my fault for probably assuming the worst straight away.”
“It’s nice that you worry about me though,” Jimin smiled.
Your eyes rolled at how excited he sounded, “of course, I worry about you, especially when I’ve seen some episodes of run too.”
“This one’s easy, even we can’t mess it up.”
Taehyung:
A sigh of relief came from Taehyung as you picked up his call, speaking straight away. “Y/N, we’re relying on you to get the answer right so that we can win a snack?”
“Answer right for what?” You quizzed, with no idea what was happening as you heard the boys in the background, their voices all muffling together as they all spoke.
Taehyung quickly shushed them before speaking again, “do you have any idea what the capital of Samoa is Y/N?”
“Isn’t it Apia?” You asked Taehyung, not even having to think as the boys all cheered on the end of the phone in reply to the answer that you gave.
Taehyung didn’t respond as he watched the production team, as their heads quickly nodded. “Y/N, thank you! I knew that you wouldn’t let us down.”
“I hope you plan on sharing some of those snacks with me for helping.”
“I’ll bring some home with me,” Taehyung promised you.
A chuckle came from you as the boys all thanked you. “I’m glad I could help, but you guys all owe me a favour at some point now.”
“We’ll help you out whenever you need us.”
Jungkook:
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you glanced down to see Jungkook calling you, quickly picking up his call. “Y/N, guess what, I got to come home early?”
“Did you win again?” You laughed, hearing in the background of the call that Jungkook was already on the road. “Shall I start getting ready to go out to dinner in that case?”
The smile on Jungkook’s face quickly turned up, “I reckon that I’ll be home within about half an hour at this rate Y/N.”
“Wow, you really did finish early,” you smirked, shaking your head as you realised that Jungkook was over two hours early to leave the set.
He couldn’t help but laugh knowing that the boys were still on set. “You should have seen their faces when PD told me that I was able to go home.”
“I can imagine that none of them were probably impressed with you.”
“I think they might have hated me,” Jungkook chuckled.
Your eyes rolled at how delighted he sounded on the other end of the line, “you’ll be in trouble when you see them at the dorm.”
Your head snapped around as yet another slam of a table tennis racquet against the table made you jump, spinning around as Taehyung bounced around on one side of the table, with Jin confidently smirking at the other end of the table, managing to pick up yet another point despite Taehyung’s best efforts.
“I give up,” Taehyung huffed, placing his racquet down and stepping back from the table, “I swear you’ve got some sort of cheat up your sleeve that none of us know about.”
“What are you idiots up to?” You shouted across from where you sat down on the field, “are you guys really getting this competitive over a game of table tennis out of everything?”
“We’re not as your boyfriend is Y/N!”
The eyes of the figure beside you quickly widened, “hey, don’t bring me into this, I’m innocent.”
Your hand pushed against Jungkook’s arm gently as the boys quickly told you how he had been acting throughout the holiday when you hadn’t been looking. You knew exactly how competitive Jungkook could be, having been on the receiving end of many games that you played.
Instead of join in this game though, Jungkook was busy tickling the tummy of Bam who sat between the two of you. “If you wait until after dinner, I’ll give you another game Jin and beat your ass.”
“You wish that you could beat me.”
Your head shook as yet another back and forth between the two boys. Both were adamant that they could win given the chance, deciding that after dinner they would have the ultimate match to decide who really was the best at table tennis.
“Don’t go crying to Y/N when I beat you, she won’t be able to help you, Kook.”
“He’s not going to win,” Jungkook whispered into your ear as Jin walked away from you both, “there is no way that I’m letting him, and his stupid ego beat me at a game of table tennis.”
“You sound pretty confident,” you noted, poking gently against your arm, “I’m sure that Jin probably wants to defeat you and your competitive ego to you know.”
A sharp intake of breath came from Jungkook, “me? An ego, I just know that I’m better than him.”
Your head shook at how competitive Jungkook still was, “either way I’m sure that whichever one of you ends up winning this game will probably brag about it forever.”
Whilst most people started to get stuck in with preparing dinner soon after, with Bam following behind you too, Jungkook decided his time was better spent at the table tennis table. After pressing it up against the wall to bounce the ball off of, he rallied and rallied making sure that he was prepared for his match with Jin.
When you came and found him to let him know that dinner was ready, a sigh came from him, reluctantly placing the racket down and slumping behind you to the table.
“I was really getting into the swing of things there,” Jungkook proudly told you as he walked.
“I’m sure that Jin will be much stiffer competition than a wall though.”
Jungkook’s head shook as he threw his arm across your shoulders, walking to the two seats that were waiting for the two of you at the end of the table. Even as the two of you sat down, you could tell that Jungkook was glancing across at Jin, making sure that he was aware that Jungkook had been practicing.
As soon as the two of you sat down, Bam snuck underneath the table where the two of you were, looking between you both. With Yoongi placing the plates of food down at the table, Jungkook ran his hand over the top of Bam’s head, promising him that he’d be fed too once you had everything sorted for you and the boys.
It had been the same routine for you since the start of the trip, having joined halfway through their holiday, you slipped into their habits and followed exactly what they did, offering your help wherever you felt that you could slot in.
Throughout your meal, Jungkook’s legs bounced excitedly, making sure that he stayed agile in his seat. Several times you watched him swerve left and right or pretend that his chopsticks were a racquet and swing for his food.
In the end you could only laugh to yourself at how eager he was. “Can’t you just eat like everyone else does?” You asked him, watching him hit again against the side of his glass.
“I’ve got to get in the zone Y/N,” Jungkook explained to you, pressing his hands to his temples, “this is a big match in case you’ve forgotten.”
Your head shook back to Jungkook, knowing that Jin was watching the two of you. “You remember that Jin is your elder, right? Don’t you think that maybe you should let him win, I mean no one wants to lose to someone that’s younger than them, do they?”
Jungkook scoffed in reply to you, he didn’t care that Jin was his elder, all he cared about was winning. Throughout the trip he had managed to show off how good he was at so many things, and this was no exception for him too.
“I’ll win, for you,” Jungkook whispered across into your ear. “I kept telling you that I’d do something special on this trip, I’ll make that something special beating Jin at table tennis then we’ll get bragging rights over the rest of them for the rest of the trip.”
“You do remember that I’m leaving tomorrow, right?” You chuckled, “you might get bragging rights but I’m just going back home so you can enjoy your victory all by yourself here.”
“I still can’t believe you’re going,” Jungkook sighed with his expression dropping, “are you sure that there’s no way that you can convince your boss to give you some more time off?”
You had been lucky to get just a few days off to be able to drive up and explore the house that the boys were staying at. The last thing that you were able to do was push your luck, having got yourself in trouble before with your boss for hanging out with the boys and not doing your work properly.
With you going tomorrow, Jungkook was more confident than ever that he was going to win and round off the little trip that you’d had together perfectly. If he had one more chance to be able to show off to you, Jungkook was absolutely going to take it.
And as a small groan came from underneath the table, Jungkook knew that someone else agreed with him too. “Bam will be on my side,” Jungkook laughed as Bam’s wide eyes looked up, “he knows that I can do it.”
“He’s on ball boy duties when you end up sending the ball flying,” you smiled, running your hand over the top of Bam’s head, “when Jin can’t return the balls that you send down to him.”
“I’ll have him running all over the place,” Jungkook assured you, “it might be the table tennis match of the century.”
Your eyes rolled, “I’m sure the production team feel very lucky to be filming it.”
“They should, it’s a once in a lifetime for everyone.”
His eyes narrowed as soon as Jin walked into the studio and found Namjoon stood with his arms around you. “What’s up?” He questioned, watching as you pulled away from Namjoon to reveal your teary eyes.
“The runner might have made a little bit of a mistake,” Namjoon explained to Jin, “but don’t worry, I put him back in his place.”
Jin cautiously walked towards you, replacing Namjoon at your side. “What sort of mistake did he make? Has he done something to upset you Y/N? I swear I’ll get him.”
“It’s alright,” you quickly assured Jin before he got annoyed, “Namjoon’s already sorted him, he just made a bit of a stupid joke about my home.”
“He was having a go at you because you’re foreign?”
“A little,” you weakly smiled, “he thought he was being funny, but it was just offensive.”
A heavy breath came from Jin as he tried to stay relaxed, “what is it about people round here that they think they can insult you for being foreign. Are you sure you sorted him Joon? I can say something to him too.“
"I promise it’s alright, he won’t be opening his mouth again.”
Yoongi:
As Yoongi’s manager walked away, the tears quickly began to fall for you. “I’m so sorry,” Yoongi told you as soon as he heard you starting to sniffle by his side, draping his arm across both of your shoulders.
“I don’t even know why I’m letting that idiot get to me,” you sighed, breathing shakily as you rested against Yoongi.
A soft kiss was placed by him to the top of your head, “it’s alright to be upset, I’m upset too by what he said. I can’t believe he even thought to say such a thing to you.”
“How many other people must think it, but not say anything to me?” You asked Yoongi, watching as his head shook straight away back across to you.
“Everyone adores you, no one else is thinking like that.”
“I thought that he liked me,” you frowned, “but clearly, he’s got a problem with me, hasn’t he?”
Yoongi’s smile weakened as he met your hurt eyes, “if you being foreign is the only thing that people have against you, that’s on them, not on you. Some people are just made to be mean Y/N, you’ve just got to ignore them.”
“He’s definitely the meanest of the bunch too.”
Hoseok:
The slam of the door made Hobi jump as his eyes immediately looked across at you. “What’s wrong?” He asked, encouraging you to take a seat beside him and tell him what had made you so upset.
“That choreographer you’re working with is an idiot,” was all that you said as you wiped under your eyes with your sleeve.
Hobi’s arm came around to rest against the small of your back, “what’s happened? What have they said, or done?” He quizzed, picking up on just how upset you were.
“Essentially he’s just told me that it’s best if I go back home,” you told Hobi, glancing across just as his eyes widened in horror, “told me I’m no good in Korea.”
“Who does he think he is to say something like that to you?”
“I don’t know,” you hummed, smiling weakly at Hobi, “I enjoy being in Korea though.”
His head shook as he pulled you into his side, “just ignore him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You belong here, with me, regardless of what anyone else thinks. I’ll speak to him Y/N, I promise you.”
“There’s nowhere else that I want to be either.”
Namjoon:
Your body jumped as Namjoon dropped his chopsticks, staring across the table at one of his managers. “What did you just say about Y/N?” Namjoon challenged, keeping his eyes fixated on the nervy
“What?” The manager chuckled, thinking that he was just having a laugh until he noticed Namjoon’s tough expression.
Namjoon wasn’t about to back down as the manager’s laughter quickly stopped. “What did you just say about Y/N? If you think it’s so funny, why don’t you repeat it?”
“I was just saying how funny Y/N’s pronunciation is,” the manager smirked, “I mean you can tell that she’s a foreigner when she speaks, can’t you?”
“And why is that something to joke about? She’s trying to learn.”
“Alright,” the manager scoffed, “I didn’t realise that she needed you to stand up for her now.”
Namjoon reached across and took a hold of your hand, “Y/N is more then capable of standing up for herself. However, I will absolutely stand up for her too, she’s trying her best to learn, maybe you should learn too.”
“I’m sorry, I was only messing around though.”
Jimin:
Your body tensed up as soon as you caught sight of the director who had offended you across the room. “Is that him?” Jimin asked you, noticing how panicked you got when you noticed who was standing around.
“Don’t,” you told Jimin as he took a single step in their direction, “now isn’t the time or the place to start anything Jimin.”
His head nodded as he stepped back towards you, “I’m not going to let him get away with it Y/N. If it’s not today, then at some point I’ll definitely be speaking to him.”
“I’m sure he probably didn’t mean anything by it,” you tried your best to tell Jimin, “how is he supposed to know what might offend a foreign person.”
“I don’t care, he should think before he speaks to anyone.”
“Jimin,” you whispered, “I don’t want this to get you in any trouble, that wouldn’t be fair.”
He reached across and took a hold of both of your hands, “you’re not going to get me in any trouble, I promise. I’m going to stand up for you though Y/N, there’s no way that I can just ignore what’s happened.”
“Be careful though, please, for your own sake.”
Taehyung:
As he glanced to his right and saw you tense up, Taehyung knew that he couldn’t just let the producer’s comments pass. “Y/N’s not from Korea,” Taehyung reminded them, “what are you expecting from her?”
“I-I…nothing,” the producer stuttered, surprised to hear Taehyung speak up, not really realising what he had said to you.
Your hand reached under the table for Taehyung’s, trying your best to keep him calm. “You make mistakes too, and you’re Korean, but no one decides to call you out on them.”
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he quickly told you, sensing that trouble was brewing, “I think I might just go and eat my lunch somewhere else, and leave you guys to it.”
“I can’t believe he had the cheek to say that to you, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you whispered, “thank you for standing up for me though, I really appreciate it.”
Taehyung’s smile turned up as soon as he met your eyes, “no one gets to judge you like that and get away with it. Even as Koreans we’re not perfect, but people especially need to cut you a little bit of slack.”
“I’m sure he will now after getting told off by you.”
Jungkook:
You quickly wiped under your eyes as Jungkook walked into the room, smiling weakly across at him. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked straight away though, easily able to tell that something had upset you.
“It’s nothing,” you tried to tell him, but Jungkook’s head shook, “I probably took the comment to hear too much anyway.”
Jungkook took a hold of your hand as his eyes remained on you, “who’s been passing comment? It obviously must be inappropriate if it’s left you feeling upset Y/N, just tell me.”
“One of your managers,” you began to tell him, “they were moaning to me earlier because of where I come from, telling me that I’m not always doing things right.”
“No one expects you to do everything right, you’re foreign Y/N.”
“It appears that maybe one person does,” you frowned, feeling Jungkook’s grip tighten on you.
A sigh came from him as he tried his best to stay calm. “You need to point out to me who said it, I need to talk to them about what they’ve said. People need to be understanding of you, I’m not letting them hurt you.”
“I don’t want any trouble Kook, it’s no big deal.”
“Y/N,” Jin giggled as you pressed kiss after kiss to his face as you hovered above him, encouraged to keep going by the sound of him laughing from underneath you.
As you pulled away, your eyes landed on the wide smile that was on his face. “Yes?” You innocently smiled, keeping yourself propped up on your elbows as his hands moved around you.
“I told you that I have to go to work, remember?”
Your head shook as you pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, “work is for losers, stay here with me instead Jin.”
“I’d love to,” he chuckled, “but unfortunately there’s things that I need to go and do at the studio.”
Your head kept shaking in response to him, “you don’t get kissed when you go to the studio, why would you want to go there?”
“It just means that I have something to look forward to when I come home,” he tried to tell you, “you can save up plenty of kisses to give me this evening instead.”
You reluctantly rolled away from Jin, “I can’t believe you’re picking the studio over me.”
“I’ll pick you all evening long tonight.”
Yoongi:
“Stop,” Yoongi laughed as you pushed his cheeks together again, pressing a kiss against his forcibly pouted lips, chuckling away to yourself as the pout muffled his voice.
As soon as your hands came back to your sides, Yoongi’s hands rolled. “I’ve never known someone to enjoy kissing as much as you,” Yoongi smiled as you shyly looked back at him.
“I think it’s your fault for being so kissable.”
His eyebrows knitted in confusion back across to you, “you force me into appearing kissable by squishing my cheeks.”
“You love it really,” you joked, “I’ve never heard you once complain about me kissing you either.”
Yoongi raised his arms in the air, “no person would ever complain about being kissed, they must be out of their minds.”
“I can’t help it that I want to kiss you the most when you’re pouty,” you smirked, pushing his cheeks in again, “I mean look at how adorable you look right now, it’s so cute.”
Yoongi’s eyes rolled as you spoke, “why can’t you just kiss me like a normal person would?”
“That would be too easy, and boring too.”
Hoseok:
“Not this again,” Jimin groaned as he walked into the dressing room to find you and Hobi laid out on the sofa. “Is there ever a second when the two of you aren’t kissing?”
Your head nodded as you moved away slightly from Hobi, “we’re not kissing right now,” you teased, watching on as Jimin’s eyes rolled, unable to look across in your direction.
“I’m just getting my phone and quickly leaving.”
Hobi couldn’t help but scoff as Jimin rushed around the room, “don’t leave on our account,” he joked, but Jimin was gone.
“I think the boys might kill us one day,” you laughed, “you said that they were all busy rehearsing.”
Hobi nodded in reply to you, “I thought that they were, but seeing Jimin’s face then was pretty funny, you can’t lie.”
“I think the boys must think that all the two of us do these days is kiss,” you smirked, moving back towards him again, “I’ve lost count of how many times they’ve interrupted.”
A shrug of the shoulders came from Hobi, “I’m definitely not complaining if that’s what they think.”
“We do other things too, not just kiss.”
Namjoon:
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Namjoon asked as he sat down beside you, noticing your teary eyes as a single tear sat in the corner of your eye, threatening to spill at any moment.”
You smiled weakly back across at Namjoon, not wanting to give him any reason to worry. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m alright,” you told him, only for his head to shake, unable to believe you.
“I can tell that something is going on with you.”
Your head shook as his continued to do the same, “what makes you think that something’s up?” You asked him intriguingly.
“You always kiss me when I come home,” he smiled, “but you haven’t done that to me today.”
An ironic laugh escaped from you, “are my kisses really the way that you tell whether I’m feeling alright or not Joon?”
“You kiss me so often, if you don’t, it’s always a sign that’s something’s up,” he told you, “so, are you going to tell me what’s going on so that I can help you out?”
Your hand came up to wipe underneath your eyes, “are you sure that you’ve got the time?”
“Of course, I want to help however I can.”
Jimin:
“Don’t you ever get bored of kissing me?” Jimin enquired as your hand came underneath his chin and brought his head around so that you could press a kiss against his lips.
Your head shook in reply to him, allowing your smile to grow. “How could someone ever tire of kissing you?” You asked him in reply, “I like kisses anyway, but kissing you is a bonus.”
“I’ve never been kissed so much in my life.”
Your eyebrows raised as he spoke, “I can stop kissing you if you want,” you joked, watching his head shake rapidly in panic.
“I’m never letting you do that,” he promised, “if anything, I think I want for you to kiss me more.”
Your own eyebrows raised in reply to Jimin, “if I had it my way, you’d never get anything done because I’d kiss you all the time.”
“You know, I would quite like that,” Jimin smugly smiled, “if there’s one thing that I could wish for more than anything else in the world, it’s constant kisses from you.”
A soft chuckle came from you, “what would you tell everyone at work when you fail to show?”
“I’d just say that I’ve got a better offer.”
Taehyung:
“You can’t work all night long,” Taehyung whispered across to you as he continued to place kiss after kiss along your jawline, slowly wearing you down into listening to what he had to say.
A sigh came from you as you kept looking at your laptop screen. “You can’t kiss me into stopping work Tae, not when I’ve still got so much that I need to get done for my assignment.”
“Your assignment will still be there tomorrow.”
Your eyes rolled as he kissed you a little bit harder, “why are you doing this to me? You know how much of a weakness all of this is for me.”
“Because I’m looking after you,” he smiled, “making you see that you’re working too hard on this.”
Your head shook as Taehyung began to pull your chair back, still kissing you. “I can’t concentrate when you’re kissing me.”
“Then it looks like my plan is working then,” he whispered into your ear, “come sit on the sofa for a little while? Let me look after you after how hard you’ve worked.”
Your eyes glanced up to look at him, “are you going to keep kissing me if I agree to join you?”
“I promise that I won’t stop for a moment.”
Jungkook:
“You have to let me breathe at some point,” Jungkook laughed as you continued to peck against his lips, refusing to step back for even a second as muffled laughter escaped from him.
You moved your head back, watching on as he let go of a deep breath. “You know you can breathe through your nose, right?” You teased, watching as his eyes rolled back at you.
“I’ve never known someone kiss as much as you.”
The corners of your smile turned up immediately, “who can blame me? Look at how adorable you are, who wouldn’t want to constantly kiss you Kook.”
“That is very understandable,” he joked, “I can definitely see why you find me so irresistible.”
Your hand hit gently against his chest as he stepped forward this time and kissed you. “You’re impossible,” you told him.
“Maybe that’s why you love me so much,” he continued to tease, pulling you back towards him again, “can we go back to what we were doing again now?”
Your head nodded in reply to him, “you’re not going to complain that it’s too much again, are you?”
■ summary: you’re theirs. And they won’t ever allow anyone to take or hurt what belongs to them.
■ Genre: fluff, angst
■ warning: blood, gun, mentions of murder, reader almost gets kidnapped, yoongi’s a gang leader, a few kisses here and there, he loves grabbing your butt, established relationship, yoongi has an alter ego, reader almost gets killed too, possessive yoongi and his alter ego, implied smut.
Author’s pov
You giggled as holly licked your face while you were tying his leash,well atleast you were trying to do so because the large dog kept trying to sit on your lap not understanding that he is too big to do that. The brown rottweiler looked at you happily while wagging his tail as you were successfully able to put his leash on and patted his head huffing as he licked your hand too. “You got me covered in your drool holly” you said putting on your shoes before wiping your face with wet wipes and looked at him again “okay let’s go” you mumbled taking his leash and your little bag which contained your phone and wallet and some treats for your baby. Locking the door you started walking towards your destination which was your boyfriend’s office. You know you shouldn’t be walking there because it would be much safer if you took your car but today you decided to give the poor driver a day off and besides just as yoongi had told you to take holly with you everywhere, you were doing so.
“It’s a nice day for a walk isn’t it?” You cooed to the dog softly as he walked besides you on alert only looking at you for a moment before looking at his surroundings again. Yoongi had brought him for you when he found himself falling in love with you. He never thought that would be getting in a serious relationship when he started seeing you. He thought that it’s just a distraction and it will be over soon but he found himself falling for you harder when you accepted both him and his alter ego. Never did he dared to dream that you will accept him for who he was. He didn’t wanted to get his hopes high and get hurt later on. But you proved him wrong when you just hugged him tightly in your warm embrace and whispered “i will always love you yoongi. No matter what. And if i love you then I’ll learn to love your other half too” he remembers how his eyes got misty and his voice thick with emotions as he hugged you back tightly. That was the first time you both said ‘i love you’.Since that day, both him, and his alter ego did everything in their power to keep you safe. He can say that his alter ego is possessive of you just like he is and they both loves you more than anything even though it took a little time for his alter ego to open up with you because he has always found it hard to trust anyone besides yoongi. But eventually, you managed to coax him out of his shell with your love. And about holly, well he was supposed to be a strong guard dog and he is, but you pamper him all day and make him wear different colorful clothes. He bets even holly must be embarrassed to walk down the street in a pink onesie.
You smiled looking at a little girl laughing while running in the park but soon your attention was taken by holly who suddenly stopped and looked back from where you came from with his tail standing straight in alert “hey what’s wrong holly?” You asked looking behind you aswell but you were met with nothing other than a few people walking but it wasn’t anything suspicious. Maybe holly is just paranoid because he has always been protective of you. “It’s nothing let’s go” you said lightly tugging on his leash but your eyebrows furrowed when he didn’t budge instead growled lowly which scared a couple who were walking past you. You gave them an apologetic smile and bowed slightly then looked at holly again who was still trying to go there but you stood in front of him and snapped your fingers gaining his attention “okay holly now stop. There’s no one there. C'mon” you said started to walk ahead and holly reluctantly followed behind you. As you both walked, you frowned noticing holly’s attention was still behind you both but you shrugged it off and smiled as you reached your destination.
Entering inside the building with holly on your tail you pushed the elevator’s button and shifted your weight from one leg to another while waiting for the elevator. “Y/n?” Hearing a familiar voice you looked to your right and a smile creeped on your face when you saw your boyfriend’s trusted man and bestfriend Namjoom standing there. But your smile dropped slightly when you saw his expression. He looked worried. “Hey joon” Namjoon looked down at you with a small smile and patted your back before stroking holly’s head “hey y/n. What’re you doing here?” “Nothing just came to meet yoongi” you smiled seeing holly licking namjoon’s hand as the elevator door opened. He suddenly looked a little hesitant making you worried “what’s wrong? Is yoongi alright? ” you asked immediately thinking of the worst scenario but joon was quick to calm you as he shaked his head and mumbled “don’t worry he’s fine. He’s just a little mad and he’s probably not yoongi right now but I’m not sure because he kicked me out” you relaxed and nodded starting to get in the elevator but namjoon stopped you “wait. Let me take holly with me.” You nodded giving him holly’s leash and crouched down to smack a kiss on the dog’s head “I’ll be back soon sweetie” you whispered smiling softly and waved at namjoon who nodded and watched as the door closed.
You signed and leaned against the cold wall watching the numbers changing to higher ones. What would have made him so angry for his alter ego to come out? And why didn’t he called you? He usually calls you whenever he gets too much stressed. You were snapped back to reality as the doors opened and you walked out bowing towards some men who bowed towards you. Everyone in this building knows you as their boss’s girlfriend so it’s no secret that they all respect you. Reaching outside his office you knocked on the door softly not hearing any reply which caused you to sigh so you knocked a little harder. A smile reaching your face when you heard his deep voice “stop bothering me namjoon amd piss off” “it’s me” you said softly and a moment later, the door was ripped open only for a second to pull you in before it was slammed shut and you were pinned against the door with his lips on yours and his hands gripping your hips tightly. You whispered his name against his lips, cupping his face and caressed his cheek softly as your lips moved against his smoothly “agust” He kissed you harder for a second before pulling back breathing heavily and leaned his head against yours “what are you doing here? Did you came alone?” Pushing the hair falling on his forehead back you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead feeling him sighing tiredly and relaxing under your touch “no i didn’t came alone. Holly is with joon and i just wanted to see you. Am i disturbing you?” You asked looking at him with big eyes and he smirked squeezing your butt earning a soft giggle from you . Wrapping his arms around your waist he hoisted you up in the air effortlessly causing you to wrap your legs around his waist and he started walked towards his desk all the while you were peppering his face with kisses.
Sitting on his chair with you on his lap you caressed his hair as he leaned back looking at you with soft eyes that contained his love for you. “No you aren’t. Needed you” he breathed out as you lightly touched the scar doing under his right eye. “What happened?” You whispered shivering slightly because of the low temperature in the room and he shaked his head increasing the temperature and pulling you closer “nothing kitten” he mumbled pulling you closer with the back of your neck and crushed his lips on yours making you whimper gently. His tongue immediately dominated yours and you supported yourself by placing your hands on his chest and he groaned sucking your bottom lip before biting the supple flesh. Carding your fingers through his soft hair he growled when you tugged them lightly and pulled you impossibly closer with his hand going inside your oversized hoodie caressing your bare skin. You gasped and whimpered his name softly as he relieved all the stress that has built up. “Are you okay?” You gasped out as he kissed you roughly and growled running his tattooed hand over your back “missed you” he murmured pulling back breathing heavily and you leaned against his chest trying to catch some breath “is yoongi okay?” You whispered looking at him with worried eyes. Worried for both him and his other half which caused his eyes to go soft “yes babygirl we’re fine. Just some petty fuckers trying to take what’s ours” you looked at him with confusion as he placed his suit around you noticing the goosebumps on your arms “what do you mean?” He shaked his head kissing your forehead “don’t think about it.” “Agust” he sighed and looked at you with soft eyes and you perked up realising yoongi was back “yoongi?” He hummed pulling you close when he felt you sliding down and wrapped his arms around your waist “what was agust talking about?” You asked with narrowed eyes and he sighed mumbling “that idiot” “tell me” you whined squeezing his cheeks causing him to groan “is everything okay?” “Yes baby everything is fine. You know we will never let anything happen to you right?” You nodded whispering “ofcourse i know” with confusion still present in your eyes . Yoongi’s jaw clenched and he rasped out “ jungkook found out that someone has been following you since a few days” you gasped and his arms around you tighten “what” yoongi kissed your neck and held you close in his protective embrace “some shitheads are trying to take me down” he scoffed giving your butt a gentle squeeze before looking at you with sharp eyes “i will find them and make them regret their whole life” the shiver that ran down your spine wasn’t because of cold but because of the coldness in his eyes and tone.
Yoongi was always the calm one in situations like this and agust is the rough one but when it comes to you, they both become ruthless gang leaders who won’t ever hesitate to kill anyone who dares to hurt you. “Let’s go home” you whispered and he nodded kissing your head as you stood up from his lap. Standing up you gave him his suit jacket back which he kept in one hand and wrapped his free arm around your shoulder and you both walked out of the room. Walking towards the elevator you looked up at him see him looking ahead with a distant look in his eyes. You know that even though he is physically with you, his mind is somewhere else and it won’t calm down until they catch the person. So squeezing his arm you smiled softly when he looked down at you and he smiled when you said “everything will be fine” he nodded scratching the scar under his eye as you both stepped in the elevator and he pressed the button of the ground floor. You exhaled softly and buried your face in his chest as his arm around your shoulder tighten and he pressed a kiss on your head before breathing out “i love you baby” you smiled whispering “i love you too” in his chest. You pulled away slightly when the elevator door opened and you both walked out but your eyes widened and you suddenly stopped causing yoongi to stop too and look at you slightly alarmed “what’s wrong? ” he asked looking around with his hand already going back towards his gun which was safely tucked in his belt. “I forgot holly!” You exclaimed with wide eyes causing him to sigh “I’ll be right back!” You said with a small laugh and ran back towards the elevator while yoongi shaked his head with a small smile on his face as he heard hoseok laughing in the background.
You hummed softly as you reached the floor of namjoon’s office not noticing a man following behind you who was also in the elevator with you. While you were walking towards joon’s office yoongi glanced at his watch and looked back towards the elevator as a few men working under him bowed towards him. “Hyung?” Yoongi looked back surprised to see namjoon standing behind him with holly besides him who growled happily and went towards yoongi who hummed and chuckled as the happy dog sat besides him and he caressed the dog’s head “you’re leaving early? Y/n went to your office” mumbled yoongi taking his phone out to call you while namjoon nodded “I’ve some work to take care of so i was thinking of asking jungkook to look after holly but i saw you here” yoongi didn’t replied instead waited for you to pick up the call but you never did making yoongi frown. “Maybe it’s in her bag” he murmured sighing “don’t worry she will come back soon besides there’s no one on that floor” yoongi hummed questioning and namjoon nodded “i was the last one there”
“Oh?” You mumbled seeing the lights in namjoon’s office off and only then you noticed that you didn’t saw anyone on your way here. You shrugged thinking he must be with jin or Taehyung and turned around to go back to yoongi but you jumped and a scream almost left your mouth when you saw an unknown man standing right in front of you. You didn’t even heard his footsteps. Placing a hand on your chest you sighed and bowed slightly towards the man before walking past him. He must be one of yoongi’s men. Maybe he also came to find namjoon. Soon a frown settled on your lips when you realized the man was still following you and turned your head slightly and sure enough he was staring straight at you. Something about His gaze made you so uncomfortable that a shiver ran down your spin. You unknowingly speeded your steps and your throat tightened when you heard the man speeding behind you too. Why did namjoon’s office has to be so far from the elevator? A gasp escaped your lips when the unknown man caught up with you and grabbed your wrist harshly causing you to look at him with fear in your eyes. “W-what are doing?! Let me go!” You screamed trying to pull your hand away but his grip only tightened causing you to whimper in pain. You looked around and tears filled your eyes when you realized you were alone with this man and he smirked before raising his hand to hold your arm but before he could, you hastily took out the pepper spray from your bag and sprayed it in his eyes causing him to scream and let you go “you fucking bitch” you whimpered hearing his gruff voice and your feet took off with a thought.
Running towards the elevator as fast as you can , a sob escaped your lips when you heard him running behind you and quickly took your phone out. A shaky breath left your mouth as you saw yoongi’s missed call and immediately called him. You gasped as a ring went by before his deep voice was heard “y/n? Baby namjoon’s here-” “yoongi!” You sobbed hearing him getting closer and yoongi immediately looked alert as fear set inside him “y/n? Hey baby what’s wrong?! Y/n?!” Yoongi growled out the last words as you screamed when the man grabbed your hair tightly and turned your around causing the phone to slip out of your hand and fall on the ground “yoongi!” A scream of his name left your lips when the man raised his hand and slapped you hard causing you to fall on the floor harshly while yoongi was already running “hey! Who the fuck is there?! Y/n?! Don’t fucking touch her dammit” yoongi growled and took the stairs when the elevator took too long and ran up the stairs feeling anger coursing through his body as he heard you crying and screaming for help “you’ll regret touching her when i get my hands on you” you faintly heard his voice from afar because of the ringing in your head and whimpered as the man grabbed your collar and harshly made you stand up. Your eyes widened when the man pinned you to the wall and wrapped his hand around your neck squeezing it tightly which had you gasping for air as your hands tried to push him away. He groaned when your nails scratched his hand and squeezed your throat tighter causing you to close your eyes as your oxygen got cut off and your hands fell limply to your side.
And just as you thought that you’re going to die here, the man was suddenly thrown off of you and you fell on the floor wheezing and gasping for air. You placed a hand on your head feeling dizzy and tried your best to look towards the source of voice “yoongi! Stop!” You heard jin’s voice but you couldn’t open your eyes as leaned against the floor feeling tears flowing down your face as you heard holly barking. While yoongi’s voice changed to a more rough one as he continued throwing punches at the man laying below him “you fucking son of a bitch how dare you touch my fucking woman” yoongi threw a harsh punch on the man’s face and you swear you heard a cracking noise causing you to whimper softly as your vision slowly started coming back and you could make out a blurred sight of jungkook and hoseok trying to stop yoongi who was beating the man who almost killed you harshly. Another string of curse words left yoongi’s lips and you realized that he wasn’t yoongi right now . “Agust” you managed to croak out as your hand reached for him and his head snapped towards you.
He was on his feet in a second and rushed towards you. You sobbed softly as his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace and leaned against his chest while his jaw was still tight and his eyes were holding so much anger. When yoongi reached where you were and saw that man choking you, he swear something inside him snapped and he saw red as his alter ego forced his way out and ran towards you. If you haven’t called him right now, then the man would have been dead. You gasped and buried your face in his chest and his arms around you tighten. More anger filling inside him when he saw a trail of blood on your lower lip. Cupping your face gently he made you look at him and you cried shaking in his arms “I’m here now. Everything’s okay. You’re okay” he whispered pressing his forehead against you and took you in his arms . His one arm wrapped under your knees and under one held your waist and he stood up holding you bridal style while you laid your head on his chest, your hand gripping his shirt tightly. Looking at namjoon he rasped out “i don’t want any of those shit heads leaving this damn building. They’ll will regret setting a foot here” Namjoon nodded and yoongi started walking ahead with holly following you both. Reaching home he placed you on the bed and your heart tugged tightly when holly whined seeing you hurt. You cooed and caressed his face to reassure him that you’re fine and flinched slightly when yoongi caressed your cheek which had already formed red causing him to clench his jaw. Somewhere in between the ride home, yoongi came back making you worried that agust might be upset but yoongi reassured you that he is fine. He was too angry at that time and he didn’t want you to see him in his scariest form. And the same went with yoongi. He too never want you to see him as a ruthless gang leader. And that’s why he tried to calm down because he didn’t want to scare you more.
After giving you a warm bath ,he helped you wear his hoodie with a pair of your underwear and carried you back to bed before laying down besides you. He unbuttoned his shirt until his sharp torso was on view and cradled your body close to him. You sighed shakily amd buried your face in his chest. He didn’t spoke anything since you both arrived home and that made you more nervous “yoongi?” He hummed kissing your head and you whispered out “s-someone was following me” pulling back slightly yoongi looked at with furrowed eyebrows “what?” You gulped nervously and avoided eye contact as you said “w-when i was coming to meet you, someone was following me and holly sensed it but at that time i-i thought he was just paranoid” taking a harsh breath yoongi stood up and took his gun from the side table causing you to gasp and stand up too “why the fuck didn’t you told me that before?!” He growled out and and started walking towards the door “I’ll fucking kill every single one of them” “no yoongi please stop” you pleaded rushing in front of him and placing your hands on his chest. His hands found there way on your hips , gripping then tightly as he leaned his head against yours “please stop” you whispered with your eyes closed and placed your hand on his heart feeling it pounding “don’t…don’t ever hide anything from me” he breathed out and you nodded as a tear left your eyes which he wiped immediately. He thinks he knows who has been tailing you but he wasn’t sure and that’s why he didn’t went and killed all of them. But right now that didn’t mattered when you looked so scared and nervous. Pulling you closer he pressed his lips on yours in a gentle but passionate kiss as he poured all of his love in it. Throwing the gun somewhere on the floor he picked you up making you wrap your legs around his waist and his one hand held your thigh with the other one on your back. Laying you on the bed gently he kissed you slowly and softly and a soft growl left his lips that had you whimpering his name. As your lips moved smoothly against each other, he whispered “we love you so fucking much babygirl ” you wrapped your arms around his neck whispering “i love you both. So so much”
As you both spent a night embracing each other fully, he showed you how you meant to them . He showed you that they would do anything and everything for you. As your naked form slept peacefully in his arms, his phone vibrated indicating of a message. Yoongi smirked switching his phone off and held you just a little tighter. The smirk turning into a soft smile when you snuggled closer into him and he kissed your bare shoulder softly before falling asleep as well.
Namjoon: lee and his gang are dead
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◇Summary: you are sleepy and yoongi is busy. And you need to cuddle while sleeping so work can wait when it comes to you.
◇Genre: fluff,fluff and more fluff!
◇Warnings: loads of cuteness because y/n is a cutie patootie which can melt yoongi’s cold . Implied smut just some indirect mention.
A/n : hello hello! This idea was given by my wifey @teluki which inspired me to write this cute little one shot!
Author’s pov
You smiled softly against his chest as his large hand ran up and down your back in hopes of lulling you to sleep. You sighed and gripped his thin white t shirt, relaxing in his strong embrace. Yoongi kissed your head softly continuing caressing your back as you snuggled into his body. You have the habit of cuddling while sleeping. Before you met yoongi, you used to hold your big teddy bear in your sleep because you can’t sleep without holding something. But after yoongi came in your life, the teddy bear was long forgotten because yoongi was really endeared when you told him about this habit at the beginning of your dating and since then he would hold you tightly every time you slept. Yoongi finds this habit of yours absolutely adorable and even after 4 years of dating and 1 and half year of marriage you still sleep in his arms. And that’s why yoongi is always hesitant to leave you alone every time he goes to a business trip because he knows you have trouble sleeping without him besides you.
Yoongi smiled softly when he heard soft little snores coming from you and kissed your forehead when your head lulled back slightly and adjusted your head on the pillow before removing some strands of hair from your face. A quiet chuckle left his lips seeing your chubby cheeks squished against the pillow with your mouth slightly opened . Covering you with the duvet properly he sighed and reluctantly stood up. All he wants to do is get back in bed and continue holding you but unfortunately he has some work to complete. He slowly creeped out of the room as to not wake you up and started walking towards his home studio. He knows that he has to write the song idea that just came to his mind because he will definitely forget it later. Closing the door he sat on his chair and took his notebook and started scribbling whatever came to his mind
Half an hour later, you woke up not feeling the familiar warmth of your husband anymore and a pout settled on your lips when you found his side of the bed empty. You huffed knowing he went back to work again not just because you wanted to cuddle but also because you were worried he might overwork himself again. He has the habit of working continuously for hours without eating or drinking anything and it had been hardly 3 hours since he came home and he is wondering again. Still you didn’t want to disturb him. It might be important if he got out of bed to complete the work. So you sighed and cuddling in the blanket hoping to fall asleep again. But no matter how much you tossed and turned, sleep didn’t came. So after contemplating for another 5 minutes you finally stood up and wore one of his hoodie before making your way towards his studio.
Knocking the door once , as expected you didn’t got any response. So you opened the door and walked inside shivering slightly because of the coldness in his studio. How does he not freeze and can work normally in this temperature? “Yoongi” you called him softly while tapping his shoulder and he jumped slightly before turning his chair around and removing the headphone “ y/n? Baby why are you up it hasn’t been long since you slept” he mumbled pulling you closer noticing the sleepiness in your eyes. You yawned standing in between his legs and absentmindedly caressed his hair “i can’t sleep” you mumbled softly feeling your eyes getting heavier “can’t you work tomorrow?” You continued with a pout which he is sure you didn’t even noticed. He looked back at his laptop and then at back at you sighing tiredly “no baby I’m sorry but i have to complete this today” your pout increased with your sleepy mind not processing anything more than the want to be held by him “but i want to cuddle” you whined childishly rubbing your eyes and a tired smile creeped on his face. No matter how much he wants to pick you up and sleep while holding you he wants to finish this too because he has been stuck at this song since weeks and he can’t let the inspiration and ideas of the lyrics go “I’m so sorry babygirl but i need to work right now. It will only take about an hour can you try to sleep until then?” He said a little strenly making you bite your lip knowing he might get irritated if you kept on pushing him . Now feeling a little selfish you nodded hoping to mask the sadness and took a step back making yoongi immediately want to pull you back to feel your warmth again.
“It’s okay i know work is important. I’m sorry i disturbed you” you said not looking at him and walked out of the room closing the door behind you and made your way towards the bedroom while yoongi cursed under his breath and pushed his hair back sighing. He couldn’t ignore the guilt creeping inside him because he knows you can’t sleep without him and still sent you back. You shouldn’t look so hesitant to ask him about anything and he hated that you did.
You layed back on the bed sleeping on yoongi’s side hoping that his scent will help you fall asleep and closed your eyes snuggling in his pillow. You can’t believe you disturbed him just because you wanted to cuddle. So lost in your internal thoughts you didn’t heard the door opening and closing and you were surprised when you felt the bed dipped behind you and his arm wrapped around your waist with his another arm snaking under your head. You held his hand which was under your head and whispered “yoon-” “shh go back to sleep kitten. I’m sorry i got mad at you” he murmured kissing your neck softly “it’s okay you can work i will be fine yoongs” you whispered caressing his arm adoring how good it felt wrapped around you. “No. Work can be done later. Now go to sleep I’m tired” you giggled and turned your head slightly to kiss him and he immediately responded kissing you back sleepily but you let out a surprised sound when he suddenly started sucking your bottom lip gently “hey! I thought you were tired” you giggled when his lips chased yours and covered his lips with your hand causing him to grunt “it’s okay we can sleep in tomorrow” “no mr min you are going to sleep right now so no funny business” you said hovering your lips on his teasingly and pulling back when he tried to kiss you. He groaned but still let you snuggle in his chest and pulled you closer. “You sure you want to sleep?” He asked huskily while pressing a wet kiss under your ear causing you to shiver and slap his chest .
“Yes i do"you stated causing him to grumble while you tangled your legs with his while he scooted down and layed his head on your chest snuggling in your soft skin "good night yoon” you whispered closing your eyes and heard a deep mumble “night kitten”
The next morning he took his revenge just so you know.
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“Y/n?” You jumped slightly hearing your fiance’s voice suddenly and turned around wide eyed while yoongi bite back a chuckle because you looked absolutely adorable in your oversized t shirt with your mouth full of chocolate ice cream “yes?” You squeaked out hiding the tub behind your back not so sneakily causing him to smile “what are you doing princess?” He asked already knowing the answer but wanting to see what you’re going to do “umm watching the stars?” You said without thinking anything while yoongi hummed walking towards you causing to walk backwards till your back hit the counter “and where are your stars baby” he mumbled taking the ice cream from behind your back causing you to whine and try to take it back but he gave you a look causing you to pout and huff “i was hungry!” He wrapped his arm around your waist looking at the tub which was now half empty causing him to sigh “then you should have woke me up baby and i could have made something. You just got well do you want to get sick again?” He scolded you gently and you shaked your head and buried your face in his chest with the pout still on your lips “m sorry” your voice came out mumbled and he kissed your head “it’s okay” he pecked your lips and continued “do you want to eat a sandwich? I’ll make some” he mumbled already pulling away but you whined and shaked your head feeling your eyes getting heavier with all the ice cream you stuffed “I’m not hungry now. Sleepy” you mumbled causing him to laugh and he nodded “alright then let’s get you to bed” he said and bend down picking you up bridal style and you wrapped your around his neck smiling sleepily and kissed his neck softly before nuzzling your face in his warm skin. He smiled fondly at your habit of becoming clingy whenever you’re sleepy and continued walking towards the bedroom when you mumbled something “yoongs” he hummed closing the door with his leg and his movements halted for a moment when you whispered “i want to have kids” and he looked down at you to see you already closing your eyes and smiled walking towards the bed. His mind now filled with having a little you or a little him running around in the house and their bright laughs bouncing on the walls. Laying you on the bed gently he kissed your forehead before whispering against your skin “i would love that babygirl” you smiled softly and pulled him down with you and he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled your leg up so that it was wrapped around his torso. And just like that, you both fell asleep being tangled against each other with both of your minds filled with the happiness coming in the future.
And tomorrow after you unexpectedly throw up the first thing in the morning, you both also got to know the reason why you wanted to eat pickles dipped in chocolate last week
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A/n : I’m back!
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Summary:It’s not often you stumble upon a handsome tied up man in your parking lot in the dead of the night. What adventures this mysterious stranger is going to embark you on?
Genre: mafia!Yoongi, angst, humor, a tiny tiny hint of fluff
Warnings:Strong language, violence, blood and injuries, mentions of abuse and torture, tragic backstory, snarky Yoongi
A.N: Black Crow is finally here!! I’m so excited for you guys to read it! I’ll go on a hiatus for about two weeks but I’ll be back, don’t worry! I already have a new story idea I’m excited about!! Please tell me what you thought of Black Crow, I love interacting with you guys!!
Word count: 14K
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10:43 pm
It’s pitch black when you step out through the big glass doors of your office complex and the only way you manage to put a foot in front of the other without falling on your face is thanks to your flashlight on your phone. Everyone is already gone by now, and you should be as well but your boss had asked you to stay later tonight, because that fucker isn’t able to prepare a powerpoint by himself. Fucking boomers and their inability to use a computer. You huff in frustration as your heels click on the ground. You try to readjust your tight skirt by pulling at the edge. You hate this office with a passion, from your boss to his abject dress code. You absolutely despise having to dress in a tighter than normal grey skirt along with dark pantyhoses and a white blouse just for him to ogle you and your female coworkers. Your scalp hurts from having to pull your hair in a tight bun everyday.
Your heels are so fucking painful after a day of working, your boss making a point of having you run around the open space for different files that he strangely doesn’t need merely five minutes after asking you for them. You are not his assistant either, so you shouldn’t have to do anything for his fat ass but he holds your career in his hands, promising you the position you aspired towards for the past year without ever committing to his word. You huff again as you try to find your car in the dark, holding your phone between your shoulder and your cheek while you rummage in your purse to find your keys. Your office’s neighborhood isn’t exactly unsafe at night but you’d rather be home as fast as possible.
Admittedly, no one’s waiting for you there, except your bed and a comfy pair of pants, but you still sigh in contentment when you find the button to open your car. You get in in a hurry, throwing your bag across on the passenger seat and starting the car up. You already feel more relaxed in your car, removing your painful heels to drive. Your ankles are covered in blisters for sure and the tight fabric of your pantyhose pressing against the tender skin makes you grit your teeth. You drive home in a hurry, certainly not very safely but you don’t seem to care tonight, still fueled on the rage you piled up inside you today.
It’s definitely not your dream job, but a writer’s salary doesn’t pay the bills, at least not yours. And it’s not that bad; Sure you hate everyone in this office but the work in itself is okay, and the paycheck is worth the trouble. It’s thanks to that that you are two steps from owning your apartment in the center of the city, currently reimbursing your loan from the bank. It’s also why you need that new position; Bigger responsibilities but a bigger paycheck and flexible hours, perfect for an aspiring writer. Most importantly, you’ll don’t have to do anything for your asshole of a boss anymore.
You park in your parking spot down your building complex, calming down as you retrieve your keys from the ignition. You sigh. Sometimes you think you let the rage of your job consume you because it masks the loneliness overflowing from you everytime you come back home. You shouldn’t feel that way; you are the one who decided to move thousands of miles away from your parents. You are the country girl who decided to flee her small town to settle in the big city. You are not the only one, most of your friends moved as well, but not to the capital and sometimes you feel really alone. Even if you live in an over crowded city you can’t seem to find people to talk to other than a therapist.
You sigh as you slip your uncomfortable heels back on, stepping out of your car with your bag. You don’t notice at first the grunts and sounds of straining as you close your door and lock the car, but when you do you still instantly. Your eyes scan all around you while you strain your ears to find the origin of the noise. It sounds like a man is struggling against something, huffing and puffing in frustration.
The parking lot is empty and dimly lit, which is not unusual at this time of the night. You grab your phone tightly in your hand. The screen reads 11:07 pm before you tap on the emergency button. You don’t call the cops yet, but you feel a bit more reassured now that they are only a phone call away. You tentatively step closer to the trunk of your car towards the sound, steadying your breathing to be as silent as you can. Surely the person making the sound has already heard you arriving in your car and knows you are here but the fear gnawing your stomach keeps you from thinking straight. You forget about your painful heels, the rage of the day and your loneliness to focus entirely on the sounds . You can tell the man is still struggling, grunts and curse words alike becoming louder.
The deep voice spits a “Fuck!” and a car two rows away from yours sways lightly as if someone pushed against it. Having finally located the source of the sound you approach the car slowly, only stopping when you are close enough to determine what’s happening. A man is sitted against the back door of said car, head turned to look at his hands behind his back while struggling so that you can only see his raven hair. From the rope tied around his shoulders, you gather that his hands must be tied up as well and that he must be trying, with no success thus far, to break free.
He doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, and you take advantage of that to figure out what the hell you are supposed to do in this situation. You could call the cops, leave him in their hands and he’ll be fine. Or you could try to free him from his bonds, there’s no need to get the police involved if it’s only a bad prank gone wrong. You glance at the chains around his neck; a silver skull is on the biggest of them and you can’t help but gulp. He could be dangerous… Like a gang member? Who else wears chains and skulls nowadays? Or he could be in danger, you realize as you notice a big dark stain on his khaki shirt. Wait, is that blood?
You let out an involuntary squeak as the stain seems to get even bigger. Your eyes widen when you realize how much you fucked up and you bring your hands to your mouth as if it would silence you but it’s too late. At the sound the man snaps his head in your direction, his grey eyes instantly finding yours. His brows are furrowed in both frustration and surprise, making him look intimidating. What shocks you the most though is the huge scar coming from his forehead to his cheekbone. You can’t help but take a step back, your hands falling to your sides, revealing your gaping mouth.
His eyes scour you and his eyebrows relax when he seems to understand that you pose no threat to him, but he still doesn’t talk. He gets up from where he was sitting, using the car behind him for support, gritting his teeth together in effort. You take another step back and your rear meets the car behind you. He looks much more intimidating now; he isn’t particularly tall nor is he very broad but his stance makes him terrifying. Your instincts are screaming at you to run away, that he is dangerous, but it’s like you are glued in place, unable to move. It’s only when he winces in pain again, surely from the wound on his side that you regain your ability to form coherent thoughts.
He is tied up and wounded; The man’s not a lot of a threat for you right now. A kick in his groin and you should be able to get home without a problem. You gulp before breaking the silence.
“You are wounded… It looks bad” is all you can muster tentatively. Silence.
Wow, that was lame, you internally cringe. He simply cocks an eyebrow and a smirk appears on his lips.
“Yeah, no shit”
You stammer and you feel your face heat up. Unable to find a witty comeback, you just huff, crossing your arms on your chest.
“Look, you need help or not?” you say simply but that is enough to wipe the smirk off his lips. It’s his turn to huff before looking away from you and you wonder how he could seem so intimidating earlier. He turns around, not without difficulty, facing away from you in an incredible demonstration of trust, displaying his tied up hands and you warily step towards him.
“Don’t try anything, I have a taser in my purse,” you bluff, eyeing the ropes currently cutting into his chafed wrists. The ropes are bloodied and you question how long he was trying to break free for. His shoulders move up and down as he laughs.
“I’ll be good,” he says, his voice filled with sarcasm. You roll your eyes. He is way too sassy for someone presently tied up.
You start to tug at his binds, trying to find the knot to let him free. He grunts as you put pressure on the damaged skin of his wrists. You look up from his wrist to look at him. He is turned but you can see his strained face in the car window’s reflection. Now that you can see him from a closer perspective, he looks abnormally livid, eyes unfocused and panting. He looks like he’s about to pass out, you note. Wait, he is passing out! You barely have the time to catch him before one of his knees falters.
“Hey hey hey- Dude? Are you okay?” you ask, voice full with concern. He mumbles, quite clearly unable to talk. “Fuck” you curse under your breath. You’ll deal with the rope later, you need to treat his wound. You grab his shoulder, trying to get him to lean on you and you start to walk to your apartment complex. He doesn’t even try to complain, and you are grateful; It’s already too difficult to carry his weight in your flimsy heels, especially without a good grasp on him. The ropes around him make it difficult for you to hold him steady, and he almost fell a few times when you tried to get a better grip.
Your perfect bun is ruined by the time you reach the elevator, and you are panting from the effort. Who’d have thought having to drag a semi conscious man across a fucking parking lot would be so difficult? The elevator ride provides you with a break, and you simply keep him against the wall while you catch your breath. His face is lolling forward, chin pressed against his chest. He still looks white as a sheet and you start to worry. Was it really a good idea to bring him home? You are capable of treating wounds, that’s not the problem, but if his wound is too deep or if he needs a blood transfusion you won’t be able to do anything.
“Shit, I should’ve brought you to the hospital,” you say, mainly to yourself as you stare at the elevator’s mirror.
“NO!” he shouts, making your head snap to look at him, alarmed. He managed to lift his head to look at you, his grey eyes burning with a fiery determination. “No hospital,” he repeats, and you nod at him, disconcerted. He calms after your nod, his head sinking back down to his chest.
Entering your apartment was a challenge; You had to hold the black haired man against the wall with your side while you searched your purse for your keys. He almost fell when you found them and forgot to press into him against the wall to open the door. Thankfully for him you realised your mistake early enough, dropping both your keys and bag to keep him from crashing on the wooden floor. You are also grateful none of your neighbours decided to take a midnight stroll, or they would have seen you pressing a tied up and passed out man against the wall with your body while desperately trying to open the door. Hardly something you want to be remembered by.
You plop the unconscious man on the couch unceremoniously, forgetting for a second his wound. You wince when you realise your mistake, but thankfully the man is too out of it to make one of his snarky comments. You retrieve your first aid kit from the bathroom and take advantage of his state to treat his wound. It is not too deep so you are able to patch it up without having to stitch him up. You’ve never been so happy to have a nurse as a mother, having learned most of your healing skills from her. You conclude, relieved, that his passing out is mostly due to the shock rather than excessive blood loss, since he didn’t seem to have a concussion when he talked to you. Adrenaline must have kept him in a conscious state of mind until he realized you didn’t mean any harm.
You cut through the rope with a kitchen knife, taking the opportunity to inspect him for any more injuries. You treat his wrists with an antiseptic cream before bandaging them. He is not otherwise severely harmed, though he does sport some nasty bruises on his –surprisingly toned– chest. What the fuck happened to him?
You sit back on the ground, facing him, when you finally finish your check-up. His breathing is steady and he seems to have regained a splash of color on his face. You take the opportunity to take a better look at him. His features are sharp though he does have a cute button nose and cute pink lips. You shake your head to chase those thoughts. What is wrong with you, checking out a passed out man?
You check for his temperature before sighing. You are incredibly tired, the day was already exhausting as it is, nevermind with this sudden encounter. You decide against putting away the kitchen knife, instead taking it with you to your room. You are nice, not stupid, and though you don’t feel in danger anymore, you are not the one to take unnecessary risks.
It’s already well past midnight when you go to sleep, knife under your pillow. You hope your guest on the couch will wake up early as you need to be up early tomorrow for your job. You’d like him to be gone as soon as possible, men like this only mean trouble. Sure you’d like to know a bit more about him, like how did he wind up in your parking lot at 11pm tied up and injured. But you know the saying, ‘curiosity killed the cat’, and you value your comfortable life too much to put it in jeopardy for a man’s backstory. Who knows what could happen?
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You wake up late the next morning. After a quick shower and almost falling flat on your ass trying to get dressed as fast as possible, you sprint out your room into the living room. The couch is empty and you smile to yourself. He’s gone. Good. It’s one less thing for you to worry about so you dart through the door, trying to make it in time before getting chewed out by your boss for arriving 3 minutes late.
You manage to sit at your desk one minute before the start of your shift and you sigh. Here we go again, another day of having to deal with dumbasses. Despite the fact that you woke up late, the rest of the day proves to be quite good. Instead of being his usual manipulative asshole self, your boss decides to ask you in his office to talk about your well deserved promotion, and tells you that an interview is set for you tomorrow in order to decide whether or not you should get the job. You spend the rest of the day on cloud nine, excastic to finally see your hard work rewarded.
You rush home after another hard day of work, sleep deprived and craving the comfort of your covers. It seems however that fate has other plans for you, you realise when you open the door to fall on last night’s guest. He was still here. Shit. He is comfortably seated on your couch, feet on the table while he’s watching TV. Eyes wide, you drop your bag on the floor.
“What the fuck are you still doing here?! I thought you were gone!” you shout at him. He nonchalantly eyes you up and down, smirking at your crestfallen expression.
“You locked me in this morning,” he answers simply. “I couldn’t open the door to get out.”
The way he pronounces these words without a care in the world leads you to believe he mustn’t have tried really hard to get out. You bring your hands to rub your face, feeling anger building up within you. Who does he think he is?
“You have a nice place,” he says gesturing around him with his hand. “Also, you shouldn’t keep a knife under your pillow, it’s dangerous,” he adds, brows furrowed in fake concern.
“You went in my room?!” you ask, clearly fuming. The nerve of this guy!
“Of course, I had to make sure I couldn’t find another exit”, he says, as if it was obvious. This guy is seriously getting on your last nerve, and you grit your teeth, trying to avoid exploding in his face. He seems to pick up on your aggravated state and his face becomes serious. He lifts his feet from the table, standing up to move closer to face you.
“Thank you for last night. I owe you a lot”
He bows slightly and it’s like your anger evaporates, making way for your curiosity to take over.
“Yeah about that… What happened to you last night?” His face hardens instantly and his whole body stiffens. He seems to ponder what to say for a while, obviously not quite ready to let you in on the situation.
“I can’t tell you–”
“I think you owe me that much” you retort, interrupting his refusal. He huffs and thinks for a bit more time.
“You’re right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I had… uh… Some troubles… With a gang”
By the way he forces the words out of his mouth, you figure this is the most you’ll get out of him right now. It does make sense in a way, and you are now glad you could help him. You hum in acknowledgment and he seems relieved to know you won’t ask anymore questions. It’s his business anyway, and you already know enough.
“I figure that you need to lay low for a while, wrong?” you sigh, passing by him to go to the kitchen. He looks surprised but quickly regains his composure. He hums positively, still not quite sure where this is going. “It’s late, you can stay tonight as well if you want.”
You don’t know why you are saying this. Inviting a stranger to stay for one more night? Are you going nuts? Are you really that lonely that you would invite someone –whom you met in sketchy circumstances, let’s not forget– to spend the night with you? His response cuts the little voice in your head nagging at you.
“That’d be good, yes” and you turn to meet his eyes. His face is still serious but you can discern a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m Y/l/n Y/n by the way”
“Min Yoongi”
“Nice to meet you, Yoongi. Tonight’s menu is take out,” you say, turning to face him completely, leaning on the counter behind you.
“I’m fine with that,” he says with a playful smile and you don’t fail to notice the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Did you say something funny?
You brush it off, instead focusing on ordering chicken fried rice and dumplings from your favorite chinese place in the neighborhood on your phone. Yoongi returns to focus on the TV while you order, and you take advantage of this to observe him. At first glance, he looks fairly nonchalant, without a care in the world, but the more you examine him, you notice the slight movements of his eyes whenever you make a sound. He doesn’t look uneasy, more like generally careful of you. In fact, it looks like he chose to sit where he could monitor you without you catching him, sitting at a certain angle so he doesn’t have to turn his head to watch you.
You gulp, suddenly feeling more on edge than before. Now that you see it, he seems more controlled than you would think, as though the very way he sits is meticulous; as if to convey that he is non-threatening to you, while still being able to act if need be. You can’t help but feel he might have downplayed his troubles, that type of behaviour does not match with a small lowlife’s who would just have “some troubles with a gang”. No, he knows what he’s doing, and has known from the very beginning, purposefully using sarcasm to break the tension and get you to help him. You don’t think he manipulated you into bringing him home though, that man was too passed out to manage that feat.
You grab the counter to ground you. Realising you just welcomed someone that appears to be dangerous and manipulative into your own home is not a great feeling. If Yoongi has noticed your sudden tenseness, he doesn’t let it show. He’ll be gone by tomorrow, you remind yourself, trying to calm your pounding heart. You feel like a prey stuck with a wolf in sheep’s disguise. But you are no damsel in distress, you’ll be just fine if you stay wary. Keep your guard up while not letting him know you figured him out. Guess you’ll be sleeping with a knife under your pillow tonight as well.
The rest of the night continues on fairly pleasantly. You do most of the talking during the night, telling him stories about your awful boss and your dream job. Yoongi is actually good company, listening to you with a smile, though you still feel that he contains himself. You purposefully avoid talking about his past or his job, not wanting to make a wrong move and anger him. The less you know the better. The atmosphere between the two of you is still somewhat tense, and you all but jump when the doorbell rings, announcing your dinner’s arrival.
He does seem to relax once his stomach full, even going as far to flash you a gummy smile when you lose balance and the empty take out boxes come crashing onto the ground. Granted, he was laughing at your clumsiness but you had a good time nonetheless.
“I need to be up early tomorrow, I should hit the sack,” you say while throwing out the take out boxes. “I’ll leave at 7:30 so you’ll have to leave at that time too”, you add and he hums in understanding.
You bid him goodnight before entering your room and as you are pushing the door a small “Thank you, Y/n” escapes his lips. You turn around and return his small smile. Is it just you or did this one seem sincere?
———————————————–
You don’t wake up sleep deprived this time around. In fact, you feel better than you have in a while. Is this the effect of having company for once? You scoff at your own thoughts before preparing yourself for the day. No, it’s of course because of your near new job interview. Yoongi is up and ready when you step out of your room to get your coffee, his wet hair sticking to his face.
“You want one?”, you ask him, pointing at the coffee machine. He nods and thanks you when you hand him a coffee. This morning feels a little awkward, you note. You are not quite sure what to say in this situation, and apparently neither is he because the both of you are just staring at each other while sipping your coffees, waiting for the other to say something. You also note the contrast between you too; him, wearing worn out grey jeans and an oversized khaki bomber jacket, and you, wearing a tight black skirt, an assorted suit jacket and an ironed white blouse. Once done with your coffee, you slip your uncomfortable heels and the both of you step out into the elevator.
It is finally time for you to separate when you step out on the street. You turn to face him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What to say? You are relieved when he starts talking first.
“Thank you for letting me stay, Y/n, I owe you one”, he says with a small smile.
“Well, two if we’re honest”, you answer with a smirk. He looks at you amused. You take a glance at your watch. “Alright, I should go, or I’ll be late for my interview. Goodbye, Min Yoongi”. You wave at him. You fail to notice the men coming up from behind him. You should have, you have never seen them before, and them sporting black clothes and heavy gold chains would have stuck with you. Yoongi does notice the ones coming from behind you though, his eyes widening. It’s far too late however, and he cannot reach you before he is grabbed from the back. You scream when you feel two pairs of hands on each side of you, maintaining you in place. Yoongi is trying to fight off his assailants but he is quickly overpowered, knocked out by a nasty blow to his temple. For your credit, your struggling gave them a hard time trying to contain you as well, scratching and kicking in every direction, but a hit in the face is enough to finally calm you, rendering you unconscious.
———————————————-
You wake up face down in the trunk of a car. You can tell by the sound of the engine as well as the smell of gasoline. Your head hurts and you are disoriented. Everything is dark and you are cramped up in a tiny space, something soft under you. The haze surrounding your mind lifts instantaneously when you remember what happened before you blacked out. You struggle when you find out your hands and feet are tied up, but still at once when the soft thing under you releases an ‘ooomph’ sound.
“Yoongi?!”, you shriek. You immediately regret speaking so loud, cursing under your breath. Just because you can’t hear them in the car doesn’t mean they can’t hear you.
“Yeah..” he responds, voice strained, obviously in pain from the elbow you lodged in his ribs as you tried to move around.
“What the fuck is going on?”, you whisper-shout, anger boiling in your veins. You knew that man was trouble but you invited him in anyway. This is what you get when you don’t listen to your instincts. You hear him sigh above your head.
“Remember the gang I told you about?” he says tentatively, knowing you are only inches away from exploding. “Well, I killed their leader and they are not very happy with me right now.”
You can’t believe what you are hearing.
“And that’s ‘some troubles’ for you?! What the fuck, Yoongi?!”
“That’s really all that you take away from what I just said?”, he retorts in disbelief.
No, it’s really not. But right now, the fact that you are acquaintances with a murderer is the least of your worries. “Fuck”, you utter, hitting your head softly on his chest. The fear mixing with anger inside you makes it difficult for you to think. How are you going to get out of this mess?
“You seem awfully calm for someone who’s just been kidnapped, Yoongi”, you say against his chest, your head still a bit dizzy from the hit you’ve received from your kidnappers.
“This is not my first rodeo, sweetheart”
You scoff at his nonchalant response, but it somehow reassures you a bit. At least you are not alone.
“So, what’s your fucking plan to get us out of here then, cowboy?”, you ask, expecting a brilliant plan to get the both of you out of harm’s way unscathed and-
“I don’t know yet”
Were you drinking anything, you would’ve spat your drink in his face in disbelief. But you are not, so you decide to head butt him in the chest instead. Hard.
“Ow, what the fuck?”, he whisper-shouts, obviously surprised by your sudden violence.
“You got me in this mess dude, now you get me out of it!”
You are seeing red. Even in this kind of situation he isn’t serious, driving you crazy with his nonchalant responses. He is going to get me killed, you think to yourself.
“I’ve escaped once from them, I can do it again. They are not exactly the brightest bunch”, he says, and you feel him shift under you. “The sole fact that they took you with me is proof. Would you turn on your back please, darling?”
Though you don’t understand why, you comply without a complaint. The man is supposed to be used to this, now’s not the time to ask questions. You twist on your back with difficulty, not without purposefully elbowing him in the stomach once again, disguising it as an accident when he starts to curse you out. As soon as you are in position, you feel his hands feeling around their way to yours, reaching your binds in no time. You can’t help but shriek when the cold blade of what you guess is a knife touches your forearm.
“First rule of kidnapping, darling, always check the belt”, he explains while cutting through the rope attaching your wrists together with dexterity. You are free in less time that you need to say it, rubbing your chafed wrists in disbelief. You are impressed to say the least, and quite relieved to have underestimated your kidnappee buddy. He hands you the knife.
“Alright, now I need you to free our feet. With you on top of me like that I can’t do it”
You start to shift in the small space trying to bend in order to reach your feet, feeling as you go. You’ve never been the most flexible but you don’t pay mind to the pain in your lower back as you start to cut through the rope around his feet, a weird feeling of deja vu settling in the back of your mind.
“Wait… Is that MY kitchen knife?!”, you ask in an ushered yet still incredulous voice, recognizing the grip of the knife in your hands.
“Of course it is”, he says as if it was obvious. “Did you seriously think that I, a hit-man searched for by the most dangerous gang of the country, would leave anywhere unarmed?”, he adds after hearing your disbelieving scoff. His feet are free now and you start to cut through your binds.
“The most dangerous- What?! I thought you said they weren’t the brightest bunch?!”, you reply, incredulous, stopping to cut for a second.
“Well yes, I killed the brains of the gang”, he says matter-of-factly. “You done with the knife? Give it to me.”
You hand him back the knife, your ankles now free of the restraints. The car is still moving, and you start to wonder what Yoongi is planning to do. Best course of action would probably be to wait for the car to stop and the kidnappers to open the trunk, taking them by surprise.
This doesn’t seem to be what Yoongi has in mind however, as you feel him start to rip off the carpet on the floor of the trunk. Your eyes widen but you try to move over to the front part of the trunk, letting him space to go on his rampage on the carpet. Has he gone mad? Is this how you die?
“What the fuck are you doing?”, you ask him through gritted teeth. Now’s not the time to attract attention.
“I’m looking for the trunk release cable” he says flatly, obviously focused on his task.
“Huh?”
“It should be… Right about… Here!” He pulls on something at once and the trunk suddenly opens. Your eyes hurt from the abrupt surge of light and you shield your eyes. The car starts to sway dangerously, the kidnappers obviously as surprised as you are to see the trunk pop open. Your eyes don’t have the time to accommodate before Yoongi yanks you by your hand, making you crash in his chest, before jumping, effectively throwing the both of you out of the trunk onto the road. Thankfully, Yoongi had the presence of mind to jump at an angle, making you tumble into the sidewalk instead of underneath the wheels of the car behind yours.
You barely have time to register what just happened before Yoongi pulls you by the hand again. Everything hurts and you are not quite sure what just happened, but you follow suit, running after him. You discard the only heel left on your feet after your little acrobatic feat in order to be able to run properly on the sidewalk. You don’t even pay mind to the incredulous glares the two of you gather. Oh what a sight you must be, running barefoot in the streets, cheeks, hands and knees wounded, your clothes a mess and your previously done up hair flowing in the wind. There are not many people around, making it easy for you to run, but easy for your kidnappers to find you. The car must have stopped a few moments after the trunk popped open because men are running after you, screaming.
Yoongi makes a sudden turn in a narrow and dark alleyway. You want to ask him where he is leading you but you are too breathless to even say a word. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep going like that, especially since your feet are starting to hurt from the gravel and the shards of glass covering the alleyway. You keep on running anyway, somehow convinced that the man running in front of you knows what he’s doing.
The sound of a gunshot rings right next to your ears, the bullet embedding itself on the wall alongside you. You shriek as the sound brings you back to earth, and you start to run even faster, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, continuing to run, brows furrowed and eyes trained in front of him. You make a second abrupt turn, leading even deeper in the maze of alleyways of your city. This part of the town is known to be the headquarters of the criminal activity, so it’s no wonder you are completely lost here whereas Yoongi expertly proceeds through, leading you to an unknown place.
The deeper you sink in the maze, the more people you meet, and the more scared you become. Everything is so foreign and dangerous to you, and you grip tighter on Yoongi’s hand as he pushes through the mob. It might be a bit stereotypical but these people all look too intimidating to you, especially since you are running away from men who just tried to kill you. You should thank them really, since they help you escape, unbeknownst to them. The alleys are larger now, though still very dark, and your nose catches whiffs of grilled meat and other delicacies as you run past the shady food stands. You are a bit overwhelmed as you progress through the crowd; Your heart is beating in your ears and your mind is racing, unable to entirely make sense of what you are experiencing.
Yoongi yanks on your hand once again, beckoning you to turn in yet another alley. This one is distinctly smaller and emptier than the former, and Yoongi stops abruptly in front of a back door, letting go of your hand to pound on the dirty metal door. His pounding is insistent and for the first time he looks nervous, eyeing where you just came from warily. The door doesn’t seem to want to open despite his persistence and he starts to curse. Behind him, you are quite literally trembling with anxiety. Your heart is throbbing in your chest and you only just realise your cheeks are wet with tears. Have you been crying the whole time?
“Fuck Jin, open the god damn door!”, Yoongi shouts, fist thumping against the metal, startling you from your thoughts. The door finally rattles and opens to reveal a tall yawning man. His brows are furrowed in discontent and you can tell he is going to chew Yoongi out before stopping crestfallen upon seeing his state. He doesn’t even notice you at first, too preoccupied for his friend to cast you a glance.
“Took you long enough” Yoongi grumbles, quickly grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside after him, pushing past his friend who is still staring at him, mouth open wide. The latter sighs before closing the door without a word and following you. The doorway leads to a small living room with a kitchen in the corner lit up by a yellow light bulb. Yoongi lets go of your hand to sink on the couch, and you stay still, not quite sure what to do while Jin settles on the armchair on the opposite side.
Jin looks fairly angry, his eyebrows furrowed and his tired brown eyes shooting daggers at Yoongi. He passes a hand through his black hair, exposing his forehead. He is obviously waiting for Yoongi to explain, his plump lips pressed in a tight line when he realises his friend isn’t going to say anything.
“What the hell are you doing here and what happened to you?” is the first thing he says, concern not well hidden under the apparent annoyance in his tone. He turns his head to you and he shoots you a concerned look. “And who is she?”
Normally, you would have clapped back that she has a name and that if he wanted to know anything about you he could ask directly, but you are too shocked to say anything, still unable to register what is happening right now. He must sense what state you are in because he walks to the kitchen and offers you a drink. You accept it wordlessly, staring blankly at him and then at the glass.
“Well apparently, Wolf’s Fang did not appreciate me killing their leader and tried to kidnap me. Twice”, Yoongi replies with his usual nonchalance. You are happy to note that you are not the only one it drives crazy, judging by the look on Jin’s face.
“Wolf’s Fa- Yoongi, I told you not to approach them, they are trouble,” he says, jaws clenched in obvious annoyance as his friend shrugs. He sighs and turns to you. You can tell he is trying hard to conceal his anger, though the furiousness of his eyes betrays him. “You don’t look so good, sweetheart, you should go to the bathroom”, he tells you, pointing at a corridor. He doesn’t need to pry, you are happy to get away from the tension in the room, making your way towards said corridor.
The bathroom is small, covered in tile. You lock yourself in, slashing your face with cold water, eager for the haze surrounding your mind to leave. You might have a small concussion from your earlier acrobatic feat, along with the mild marks of road burns on the side of your head. You can still hear the argument in the living room between the two men, and you cut the flow of water to listen to the ushered voices.
“-I told you it was the worst idea you’ve ever had, I can’t believe you did it anyway”
“What was I supposed to do, Jin, let them get away with it?”
“It was twenty years ago Yoongi-”
“They killed my parents, I don’t really think there’s a ‘best before’ date on revenge.”
“That is not what I meant and you know it. Just because you are used to killing people doesn’t mean you can take on everyone, Yoongi. They were too dangerous for you but you still went away and killed their leader. I told you to wait and build a team but no, you couldn’t fucking wait, could you? I shouldn’t have told you.”
“It was MY revenge Hyung-”
“That’s why you involved the girl?” Your brows furrow, and you sit on the toilet seat, eager to know what they are going to say about you. Yoongi takes a second before answering, his voice calmer and you have to strain your ears to hear him.
“No. That- That was a mistake. She found me the first time I escaped and she helped me.”
“And that’s how you repay her, by implicating her in your shit?”
“No, I- I just wasn’t careful enough. I didn’t mean for her to get caught up in this.”
“Awww, little Black Crow didn’t want her to get caught in this” Jin retorts sarcastically. “Well guess what, fucker, because of you she’s going to have to hide from one of the biggest gangs in the damn city! I don’t even care that you bring ME into this mess, but you just had to involve an innocent person. I thought you despised that.”
“I fucking hate it!”, Yoongi shouts. “But it’s too late to change anything about that, isn’t it Hyung?”
You rise from your seat, having heard enough. You don’t want them to fight because of you, and you’re afraid you’ve spent much more time in the bathroom than appropriate. Having finally regained your senses, you feel the strain your chase has on your body; your muscles ache and your feet are bloody, shards of glass and tiny pieces of gravel embedded in your skin. You tiptoe back into the living, jaw clenched from the pain, trying to avoid putting too much weight on your feet as well as bloodying the floor. They both fall quiet when you appear through the opening of the corridor, eyeing you with concern.
You can easily guess what is going on in their heads. You are still very pale, and you seem weak, eyes still a bit unfocused as you lean on the wall for support. they must wonder how much you’ve heard, and how much of a problem you are going to be to them. You are a witness and you know what Yoongi does for a living - ha, puns- and though it hasn’t crossed your mind to call the police on them, they don’t know that. Finally, you still have a gang trying to snag you, and you don’t know just how much information your kidnappers have on you. They could try to use you as bait, thinking Yoongi must be attached to you in some way.
In conclusion, this is a mess. You’ve missed both work and your interview this morning and people are bound to ask questions about your whereabouts. You’ve always been the most diligent in terms of work, never taking a day off or arriving more than 10 minutes late. You obviously don’t have your phone or your wallet on you right now, having lost everything when you were kidnapped, and trying to go back to your apartment right now, without your keys on top of that, seems fruitless.
“How are you feeling?”, Jin asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence that settled in the room.
“Still a bit light-headed. I might have a minor concussion… I think. Also I need a first aid kit, if you have one please?”
“Sure, I’ll get you that. Sit down.”
You settle on the other side of the couch as Jin exits the room from the corridor. Yoongi hasn’t said anything yet but you can see hints of concern in his eyes. Similarly to you, his already scarred cheek and his hands are bruised because of the fall from the car, though he doesn’t seem to have hit his head -which isn’t surprising since, unlike you, he was expecting the impact. He moves closer to you on the couch to take your hands in his, observing the wounds on the back of your hands.
You are slightly taken aback but don’t say anything, an unexpected blush creeping on your cheeks. He seems too focused on your hands to notice your tenseness, and you are glad. What the hell is wrong with you? It must be the concussion, making your cheeks heat up, because it certainly can’t be the way his soft hands delicately hold yours- No! What is going on in this brain of yours?
“Are your feet okay?” he asks suddenly, and you squeak in surprise as his grey eyes find yours. He doesn’t comment on your reaction, and you are happy to not receive one of his snarky remarks.
“Not really, that’s why I asked for the first aid ki- Whoa, what are you doing?!”, you shriek when he grabs your legs to prop them on the couch. He sits at the end of the couch, grimacing as he takes in the poor state of the bottom of your feet.
“There’s gravel in there, I’ll have to clean it up–”, he starts.
“No- No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll do it myself,” you interrupt, slightly panicked. To be completely honest, you don’t really trust him to do any good. The man doesn’t exactly save lives, he takes them, and he doesn’t really strike you as the healer type. You think you are saved when Jin comes back and hands you the first aid kit, one of his eyebrows raising in a silent question as he reads the anxiousness on your face. Unfortunately for you, Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind your nervousness, simply snatching the kit from your hands and putting himself to work.
Turns out you were nervous for -mostly- nothing. Yoongi actually has a steady hand, and he removes all gravel and shards of glass in an instant and rather unpainfully. He does however make the mistake of spraying antiseptic directly in your wounds, which hurts like hell. He apologizes profusely, obviously distraught by your unexpected blood curdling scream while Jin laughs freely at his startled face. As he finishes bandaging your feet and Jin brings you hotel slippers to wear for the night. They are way too big for your feet but actually quite comfortable so you accept them with a smile.
You are set to stay low in Jin’s place for the day. It would be too dangerous to leave today according to both Yoongi and Jin, and the both of them decide that you would leave during the night.
“It’s at that time that the alleys are the more crowded,” explained Jin, “the less attention you draw, the better”. That is a kind of logic you can get behind, especially since you can barely walk - let alone run if anything goes wrong.
Yoongi advises you to sleep when he notices your eyes getting droopy, and he leads you to a bedroom. You sink on the bed in exhaustion, your body suddenly refusing to carry you anymore. You feel sleep enveloping you as Yoongi starts to leave the bedroom.
“What’s going to happen after we leave?” you ask sleepily, barely keeping your eyes open. The question stops him dead in his tracks, and he turns to face you, a serious look on his face. He ponders for a little while before answering you.
“I’ll bring you to my place and we’ll find a way for you to go back to your life,” he responds, eyes earnest and you hum sleepily in acknowledgement. Satisfied with the answer, you let yourself slip into an easy sleep.
———————————————–
You wake up a few hours later, with an empty stomach but an already clearer head. It takes you a minute to remember exactly what happened to you and where you are, feeling dejected when you realise it wasn’t just a very realistic nightmare. It’s all his fault, you realize. Your life was going well before you decided to help Yoongi - well, before you were manipulated into helping him is more correct. Even if you despise your job because of your boss, you still enjoy your little routine. Working during the week to pay off your loan, writing during the weekend or enjoying your free time. Sure you were alone most of the time and you longed to meet new people, you still liked your quiet life. It was all supposed to come together today once you’d get that promotion, but no, that had to be ruined for you. One thing is certain: once all of this is over, you don’t want to ever hear from Min Yoongi again.
You decide to limp to the living room, the rumbling of your stomach prompting you to seek sustenance. Both Jin and Yoongi are in the living room, Yoongi sleeping on the couch while Jin is busy on the phone looking out the window near the kitchen. His brows are furrowed and he looks deep in thought, making you reconsider asking him for food right now. He doesn’t seem to have noticed you entering the room and sitting on the armchair, and you take advantage of this to stare at him in tranquillity.
It makes no doubt for you now that Jin is also a very dangerous man. If his earlier behaviour wasn’t particularly intimidating in any way, the man barking at the phone in front of you exudes a deadly aura. He is quite obviously trying to resolve the mess his younger friend put himself -and you- into, calling multiple people and furiously scribbling on a notepad on the counter in between calls. He seems to know exactly who to contact, calling people back to back, until he slams his phone on the table, sighing in exasperation. He takes his head in his hands and sighs again.
“Jin?” you ask tentatively, and Jin’s head snaps in your direction. His dark eyes immediately find yours, and you gulp, intimidated by his intense glare. When he realises it’s just you, his features soften and you feel yourself being able to breathe again.
“Do you have something I could eat?” you ask after he beckons you to speak with a hum. He nods, making his way to the cupboards. He rummages through them and you settle on a stool behind the counter. Jin doesn’t look satisfied as he pulls out a cup of instant ramen and he shoots you an apologetic smile. “Ramen is fine,” you assure him, feeling too hungry to fuss over the quality of the meal. It actually reminds you of your student days, living off ramen, coffee and the sheer will of escaping your parent’s house. Granted this is not how you envisioned your future, running away from a gang with your new friend Yoongi the murderer, but you longed for adventure, right?
Well it’s not like you have much of a choice anyway, you remind yourself as Jin sets the meager meal in front of you. You must pull a crestfallen grimace because Jin laughs at you and you dive in, eager to hide the embarrassment creeping on your cheeks at his windshield wiper laugh.
“Who were you calling?” you ask with a mouth full, keen to change the focus on him rather than you. He rests his elbows on the counter across from you and he tries to find his words.
“People who could help resolve the situation,” he answers simply.
“Right… ‘Resolve’” you say with a sarcastic smile. The only way to ‘resolve’ the situation, as Jin says, is surely to take out the gang altogether. It is obviously weak at the moment because of the loss of their boss, and it’s the best time to strike.
“We need to ensure your security - that is, unless you believe you can do it alone?” he retorts, raising one of his eyebrows in defiance. You scoff at his smirk.
“Of course not.” You pause. “Thank you for helping me,” you add earnestly after a second.
“Don’t thank me, thank Yoongi. He’s the one who asked me to help you. Apparently he owes you”, he says dismissively, returning to the kitchen to throw away your no empty ramen cup. You swallow with difficulty. Of course he’s only doing that because he owes you, what did you expect? Both of those men are hardened criminals, though you don’t exactly know what Jin dwelves in. It would be foolish of you to think that neither of them is protecting you out of the goodness of their hearts. They are not as naive and generous as you are, and Yoongi could easily have left you to die had you not saved him earlier.
No wait… This is because of him that you are in this mess, of course he has to fix this situation!
“Anyways,” Jin adds as he comes back to face you, “Yoongi is going to bring you to a safer location and then he - along with my team - is going to sort this mess out. And then you’ll be good to go, as if this never happened.”
He emphasizes his last words with a dark fixed gaze on you. You gulp at his sudden change of demeanor from casual to threatening. You know exactly what he means by that; You’ll have to keep quiet about what happened, or else. You nod a bit too eagerly, suddenly intimidated by him. This seems to please him however, and he smiles at you, obviously content that you understand the true meaning of his words.
You spend the next hour or so abstently watching TV from the armchair while waiting, Yoongi still happily slumbering on the couch. There isn’t much more to do than wait, and you are bored out of your wits by the time Jin decides Yoongi slept too much and hits him with a rolled up magazine to wake him up.
“What the- What was that for?!” Yoongi indignantly asks, rubbing his head, his still sleepy eyes shooting daggers at the elder.
“It’s time for you to move” is all he says before he leaves the room, not even paying attention to the string of curses Yoongi sends flying his way. You chuckle at his indignation and he shoots you a dark look, amusing you even further. He sighs before chuckling too and he rises from the couch to stretch his limbs. Jin comes back to the living room with a backpack he chucks at Yoongi. The latter catches it effortlessly before sitting back on the couch to rummage through it, taking out a gun and observing it, checking the magazine in a swift motion.
“You might need that,” Jin says, leaning back against the kitchen counter and Yoongi thanks him. You eye warrily the weapon; You can’t say you feel particularly reassured with this. You’ve never been one to like firearms, and the sole fact that you were shot at earlier today reinforces your apprehension. Yoongi seems to sense your tenseness and he hands you your kitchen knife. You look at him questioningly.
“It might be too early for you to use a gun, let’s stick with things you know for now,” he explains with a knowing smile. For now. You can see Jin’s eyebrows furrow in the corner of your eyes but you don’t comment on his choice of words, merely nodding in understanding. There’s also a pair of grey sneakers in the bag, which Yoongi throws your way. They are too big for your feet but this is the best you are going to get so you don’t complain. You are now set to leave and Yoongi beckons you to follow him through the corridor. There’s a back door that you hadn’t noticed after the door leading to the bedroom.
Yoongi reaches to open the door and stops, taking a look at you. You are opening your mouth to ask him what’s wrong when he suddenly removes his jacket to throw it around your shoulders.
“You’ll attract too much attention otherwise” he says, and he slips through the door. You follow him into the alleyways, clutching his jacket to cover you more, hiding the knife in your hands under it.
The alleys, much like Jin explained, are more crowded than when you arrived. You are significantly less scared than before, focusing on following the man in front of you instead of observing the people around you. Yoongi is leading you through the crowd, eyes scanning the mob looking for potential threats. Jin had advised you to leave separately but it just wasn’t possible for you to navigate through this maze alone, and you are grateful to be with Yoongi right now.
People don’t seem to pay much attention to either of you and you are able to reach an underground parking lot safely. Yoongi had made sure you weren’t followed before reaching for keys in the bag. He presses the button and the lights of a car a few rows from where you are flare up. Yoongi grabs your hand and leads the both of you to the black car, letting you get seated on the passenger side before unceremoniously throwing the bag on the back seat.
The car is surprisingly nice, a black Mercedes with tan leather seats. You squeak in surprise when Yoongi makes the engine roar as you are attaching your seat belt. You don’t even have the time to say anything before he slams the acceleration pedal, leaving the parking spot like a mad man. You grip the armrest in a futile attempt to feel safer, not quite at ease with Yoongi’s aggressive driving.
You can tell he is a good driver, expertly avoiding the few other cars as he speeds down the highway, but you can’t help your heart from pounding in your chest. You’ve never been this fast on the road, and the happy glimmer in Yoongi’s eyes everytime he goes faster doesn’t exactly reassure you.
The only positive aspect with him driving this fast is that you quickly arrive at the destination. You are surrounded by tall glass buildings, and you furrow your brows. This can’t be where Yoongi lives, can it? It doesn’t make sense. Yoongi parks the car in another underground parking structure, and you step out of the car with wobbly legs and a confused expression plastered on your face. You don’t even have time to ask the first of the thousands of questions swarming your mind right now before Yoongi makes his way towards an elevator.
Unlike you, he seems perfectly at ease as he waits for the elevator, even smirking at your bemused face. The ding of the elevator makes you step out of your thoughts and you start to stammer as you follow Yoongi inside. He presses the button going to the 37th level.
“You- You live here?!” you ask, incredulous as the elevator starts its ascension. He shoots you another smirk, his eyes playful.
“What, you think I kill for the sole pleasure of it? Of course not, I’m not a monster, Y/n.”
“I- I don’t–”
“Hitman is a relatively high paying job, I’ll have you know,” Yoongi explains in fake seriousness, obviously reveling on your confused state of mind. You raise one of your eyebrows in defiance at his words, eyeing him up and down as if to prove a point. He isn’t exactly dressed as someone who makes a lot of money. He scoffs at your attitude, and he crosses his arms on his chest.
“Hey! I like these clothes!” he says in indignation and you roll your eyes at him. The elevator stops and the both of you step out of it. “Anyway, nobody knows about this place so we’ll be safe here,” he says while walking to a door at the end of a corridor.
“Nobody?” you ask as he opens the door.
“Not even Jin. It’s a safe measure. I don’t know where he lives either. No one in the gang does. That way, if someone gets caught, they won’t be able to tell where the others are.”
He opens the door and enters his apartment. You take a second to look around you. His apartment is big and modern. The walls are painted white, contrasting with his dark furniture. In the back of the apartment is a huge window, providing an incredible view of the city. But the view is unable to distract you from the many questions swirling in your mind; How many people has he had to kill in order to pay for a place like this? The place you were at just earlier wasn’t Jin’s home? The gang? What is going on? Yoongi must notice your confusion – maybe because you are still on the doorstep, staring around with a gaping mouth – because he sighs and starts to explain further.
“We were not at Jin’s. It’s one of our safe places all over the city. There’s always at least one member there, and this time it was Jin’s shift and I knew he was going to be there,” he starts explaining.
“Wait wait- You are in a gang?!” you exclaim, eyes wide. The more you think you know about Yoongi the more lost you get. It wasn’t bad enough that he is an assassin, he’s also part of a gang?
“Would you please come in before shouting those kinds of things?” he retorts through gritted teeth, ushering you inside and closing the door. You sink down on the leather couch and stare in the void, still not quite able to process everything. You should have seen it coming if you are really honest, but it seems that you find yourself to be in an even bigger mess than you thought everytime Yoongi tries to explain himself.
“Yes, I’m in a gang. I’m an assassin. Jin is the leader’s right-hand man. More than that he is my friend,” he says, eyeing you warrily and holding his hands up in a defensive stance, as if scared you’ll explode. If anything, you should be the one to be scared, you think to yourself, especially since you can’t understand why he would say that. Perhaps it’s because you are aware of what would happen to you, would you ever try to say anything to anyone. Not that anyone would believe your story anyway, or that you would risk telling anything to anyone. You shudder when you remember Jin’s hidden warning. Yoongi lowers his hands as you seem to have calmed down and he sits across from you on a leather armchair.
“I talked with Jin about taking down Wolf’s Fang. I’ll leave tomorrow to deal with that with other members of the gang. Then you’ll go back to your life”, he explains nonchalantly. For some unknown reason, his last words set you ablaze with rage.
“What life, Yoongi? You ruined that, remember?” you spit at him harshly, rising from your seat. He looks completely taken aback by your sudden outburst. You had made sure not to let show how much you resent him for dragging you in this situation; You needed him to fix everything, and shouting at him that it’s all his fault surely wouldn’t help your plans at all. But you snap because of his nonchalant attitude. He destroyed your chances at getting your promotion, having to go no-contact. He put you at risk of getting kidnapped and then shot, even though he knew he was himself in danger.
“Aren’t you an assassin, aren’t you part of a gang? Didn’t you know you would put me in danger with you?” you shout at him, pointing at him aggressively to emphasize your words.
“I didn’t mean–” he starts, but you interrupt him. Anger is bubbling inside you and you can’t contain it anymore.
“You knew you were putting me in danger but you stayed anyway!”
“You were the one who said I could lay low at yours!” he retorts, rising from his seat. You scoff at his irrelevant argument and he immediately cringes at his poor wording.
“I didn’t know you were an assassin and a gang member! I would’ve thought twice about letting you come into my life if I knew I’d get kidnapped!” you spit, your jaw clenched in anger.
“I didn’t want this!”
“Well I sure hope so!”, you scoff, hands rising in the air in disbelief. “But what did you seriously expect, huh?” You try to chase away the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Now is not the time to cry.
“I know I should’ve left you!” he starts in anger but his voice breaks and he looks away. You look at him in confusion. You are not used to seeing vulnerability in him. Granted you don’t really know him but this feels out of character for him. “I just- I didn’t want to be alone,” he says, voice pregnant with emotion. You are taken aback by his sudden openness, brows furrowed and mouth gaping in confusion. He still doesn’t look at you, and you don’t manage to say anything, too lost to be able to utter a word.
He passes a hand through his black hair and sighs loudly. The both of you are standing awkwardly, you staring at him and him making a point of avoiding your eyes. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, anything, but you are left utterly speechless. He scoffs darkly before walking towards the back of the room to a kitchen.
“Anyway, you’ll be safe tomorrow, and you’ll be able to leave.”
Yoongi exits the room and you are left alone with your thoughts.
—————————————————
You decide to sit on the floor in front of the big windows, enjoying the unending view. It must be one in the morning, and the streets are empty, apart from the odd car driving down the road every once in a while. The sight is calming, as you see the few lights still lit up in the night. Your apartment is not exactly downtown so you don’t have a view as nice as this one. Everything is so silent, so still. You know exactly why you are staring so intensely at the view, trying to chase any thought of Yoongi.
You are definitely calmer now but you don’t want to think about him, trying to bottle up any emotion deep down. You’ve never been one to have a healthy relationship with your feelings, and you are not going to start now. Most of your resentment is gone now that you finally confronted him about it, but your last exchange only left confusion. Confusion on what he was talking about, but also on why your heart squeezed so painfully when you saw him so vulnerable or when he walked away from you. You bring your knees to your chest.
In a way, you can understand where he is coming from. You let him stay and threw all care in the wind also because you were feeling lonely. Perhaps both of you were weak at that moment. Surely he should have been more careful, but you don’t blame him as much as you did before.
You hear a door open and close but you don’t move from your spot, keeping your eyes trained on the view. From the corner of your eyes, you see Yoongi sit cross legged next to you. The both of you stay in silence like that for a bit
A/N: This one is angsty as fck WARNING: mentions of self harm and death…idk why I’m doing this to myself I appearently enjoy pain, so enjoy it too
“Please just don´t do anything. Someone is coming.” the guy on the other end of the line said but you were too far gone in your thoughts to identify or understand him. You put your phone next to you on the handrail you were sitting. You watched as the sun went down and the water underneath you flowed hurriedly under the bridge. Your legs dangled towards the water and you could hear people gathering behind you but it was all hazy. “Y/N?” you heared a familiar voice call your name and furrowed your brows. “Y/N?” your name was being called louder, the person closer now and you looked over your shoulder to look into those brown eyes you once loved so much. You chuckled at his sight and shook your head while looking down to your lap. “I can´t believe they sent you.” you said to yourself and were sure that he could hear it too. “Do you wanna come down?” he said and you chuckled again. “Do I look like I want to?” you said and he had to think fast what he could say next. You were too calm for his liking and panic started to set in his guts. “Can I sit next to you?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders looking straight ahead and ignoring what was happening behind you.
Yoongi signed everone to step away and move along while nodding towards the police officers that he got it under controll. He was praying to all the gods that he actually had it under controll. Carefull he swung his legs over the railing and planted himself next to you. “You know,” you said while watching the brids fly higher and higher, “your the least person I want to see right now.” Your confession that didn´t surprise him didn´t help his panic at all. He didn´t know why Jin called him but as soon as he explained what was going on he found himself on the bridge. “Should I leave?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders again. “You can do whatever. I don´t own this bridge.” you said and took a deep breath while letting go of the railing and he almost grabbed onto your arm, afraid that you might lean forward.”I´m not here to jump Yoongs. You can stop staring at me.” you said with closed eyes but he was still tense and ready to catch you. “Then why are you sitting here?” he asked and his pet name falling from your lips made his heart yearn for your attention. “Why do you even care? We broke up remember?” you said and those words were like dagers through his heart. “I´m tired.” you said before he could think of a response, “I´m tired of living.” you said with a sad smile on your lips and the panic got the best of him and he grabbed your wrist. Your head snapped towards him and you looked at him with an arched brow. “I´m not here to jump.” you said again seeing the look in his eyes and groaned. “Are you going to believe me if I get off the railing?” you asked and he nodded immediatly. “One can´t even enjoy the sunset anymore.” you said while swinging your legs back. As soon as you jumped off on to the bridge you found yourself in Yoongis arms, your own dangling by your side. When he noticed you not hugging him back he let you go and you realized that his hands were slightly trembling even though he looked calm. “There are easier ways to die.” you said and shrugged your shoulders, “Also I can´t do that to my Mom.” you said leaning against the railing now and crossing your arms infront of your chest. “How do you think she’d feel?” you asked watching the sky which had a light pink hue since the sun was going down. “Devestated.” Yoongi said like it was on the tip of his tongue and you chuckled. “Yeah. She’d be the only one.” you mumbled to yourself and he found himself shaking his head. This was a nightmare to him. He wanted to wake up. “Well if I did. It wouldn’t b because of any of you.” you said and turned towards the water and let your arms hang over the handrail. Yoongi stood next to you, his shoulder brushing yours lightly. You pushed him playfully with your shoulder and he relaxed a little bit seeing that you were fine…well you were okay. “It’s not your fault.” he heared you say and his head snapped towards you. “What?” he asked an a high pitched ringing appeared. “It really isn’t.” you said and Yoongi furrowed his brows because his sight was getting fuzzy.
He blinked a few times and suddenly he was in his room. In his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was really silent and it was unbearable. Especially when his mind caught up on what just happened. He looked over to his night stand to see your picture smiling back at him and a sudden sobb escaped his throat and he shut his eyes again, covering them with his arm. He wanted to sleep again, he wanted to see you, hear you again. Another sobb escaped his lips and it didn’t take him long to be full on crying. His painfull cries became so loud that his bandmates came in and he was embraced in a big hug by his leader. “I saw her.” Yoongi sobbed while Namjoon carressed Yoongis back and let him cry. “I miss her so much.” Yoongi said and his voice broke along with Namjoons heart. “I know.” Namjoon said trying to calm him down. “I know.” he said again looking at the picture of you on his nightstand.
I’m opening my requests for a lil bit if y’all wanna request anything shoot me don’t actually shoot me this is not an american school oops she didn’t yes she did
I’ll take like 7 requests for now, let’s see what happens
Summary: How do the boys react when you tell them “I think you could’ve been nicer to me today”?
Jung Hoseok
You were lying next to each other bodies tangled as an aftermath of the activities you just finished. Both of you were still slightly breathing heavy. Hobi had one arm wrapped around you and brushed his fingertips gently your arm up and down. Your hand rest on his bare chest and you were tempted to tease his hardend nipple but decided to tease him other wise.
“Hoseok?” “Hm?” he answered immediatly hearing his real name fall from your lips and not any type of pet name. “What’s wrong?” he asked trying to see your face to identify how you were feeling. “I think you could’ve been nicer to me today.” you said while hiding your face because there was no way you could hide your smile. His whole body tensed up and you kind of felt bad - but also not. “Wait, what?” he asked and you could hear that he felt sorry through his voice. “Was I too rough?” he asked and blood flushed to your cheeks. When you didn’t answer he pulled away gently and cupped your face with his hand to make you look at him. “Did I hurt you?” he asked and he was seriously concerned about your well being. His eyes were looking for anytype of discomfort he might have caused you. “No you could’ve been just a little nicer.” you said and his eyes looked sad all of a sudden and this time you felt really bad.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you would tell me if anything isn’t the way you want. I’m sorry. I’ll be more carefull next time. I thought you liked it rough since you never said anything.” he apologized and suddenly his eyes went wide. “Was I too rough the whole time? Did I hurt you this whole time?” he said and his voice sounded a few octaves higher feom shock. “Oh baby no!” you backtracked immediately as you saw that your prank backfired. “I was joking. I was just joking.” you ensured him but he shook his head. “No, you need to tell me stuff like this. You can’t keep it to yourself just because you think my feelings will get hurt. Your safety is more important than…”
“Hoseok it was a joke! I pranked you!” you interrupted him and pressed your palm against his mouth to make him shut up. “I was just trying to get a reaction out of you. It’s a trend that’s going around.” you explained and leaned down to his ear,”I love it when you take me rough and ruthless all night long.” you purred and your hot breath against his ear gave him goosebumps. Suddenly he flipped you over and was hovering over you. “I’ll show you rough and ruthless.”
Park Jimin
Jimin came into the living room after he changed into something comfy and let himself fall right onto the couch next to you. He laid his head in your lap and you brushed your fingers through his hair. “Min.” you called him and he opened his eyes. “I feel like you could’ve been nicer to me today.” you said and he let out a tired chuckle. “What do you mean?” he asked and closed his eyes again. “Just that you could’ve been nicer.” you said and he turned onto his back and opened his eyes to look up at you. “Babe I haven’t seen you in a week. Let alone today. I literally came home two hours ago.” he explained and tried to understand what you were getting at. “How could I have been not nice?” he asked and was about to blow your cover but you suddenly forgot about the prank. “You’re right. I almost never see you. There is no time for nice things.” you said under your breath and your sudden change in mood made him sit up and look at you. “Hey.” he said to grab your attention and you looked at him. You chuckled sadly and shook your head. “Nevermind. I was trying to prank you but it kind of backfired. Forget about it. You’re tired. You should rest.” you said and patted your legs to signal him to lay back down.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked and you sighed. “No! No, of course not.” you said and took his hand into yours. “I just missed you. And you rubbing in that you’re almost never around didn’t make it better.” you explained and he chuckled while wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close to him. “You accused me of not being nice.” he said and kissed the top of your head. You poked his tummy and he laughed. “It was supposed to be funny.” you said now realizing that it was just stupid. “It’s funny now.” he laughed and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up.” you pouted and he tightened his hug while you felt his chest vibrate from his laughter.
