#BTS fan fic

[sketchguk]

part time lover; jjk

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk were both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison),  jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love). 

➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

Jeongguk, 26 Investigative journalist at Golden News Network Less than a mile away To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only). 

“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.” 

“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.” 

From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language. 

“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.” 

A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees. 

Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop. 

In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it? 

Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam. 

But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him. 

“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.

“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.” 

“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction. 

Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.

“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff. 

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband. 

Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley. 

Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school. 

Dear Jeon family,  Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.  It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.  Sincerely,  Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy

The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless. 

“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life. 

Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.” 

“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school. 

“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering. 

“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache. 

“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes. 

Has she been listening all along?

“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands. 

“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question. 

Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person. 

“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend. 

“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?  

Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth. 

Y/N Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library 1 mile away Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”  “Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”  “Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh” 

“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod. 

Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month. 

“What do you think about this guy?” 

“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.” 

“Okay, then what about this one?” 

“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.” 

“How about her? She’s pretty, right?” 

“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?” 

From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app. 

It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority. 

“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines. 

“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes. 

“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice. 

You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.” 

“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations? 

“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.” 

“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”

Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence. 

“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.” 

Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.” 

Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss. 

You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?

If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again. 

If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.

But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is? 

If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that. 

Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle. 

Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are. 

If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time. 

But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen. 

Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh. 

Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring. 

A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.

His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).” 

Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him? 

The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know. 

When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone. 

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk. 

“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion. 

“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency. 

Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet. 

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates. 

“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.” 

Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes. 

Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood. 

Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old. 

It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her. 

There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart. 

“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?” 

Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body. 

Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter. 

In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.

Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again. 

A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body. 

Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right. 

They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution? 

They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.

The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t. 

As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips. 

Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him. 

After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers. 

How the hell is he going to raise a child? 

He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.

There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.

“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.  

“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy. 

“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness. 

The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there. 

You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek. 

“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.

“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically. 

A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really. 

“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him. 

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides. 

“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation. 

Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.” 

“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?” 

“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features. 

“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?” 

He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.” 

“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.

“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips. 

“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.” 

The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word. 

Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands. 

Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?” 

It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.” 

Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice. 

His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks. 

Dammit. He’s cute. 

You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip. 

Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head. 

“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”

“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.” 

Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single. 

“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes. 

“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.” 

Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news. 

“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment. 

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”

Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with. 

“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy. 

Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?” 

You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled. 

“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness. 

“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?” 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal. 

You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?

You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it. 

“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short. 

“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.

Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched. 

After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance? 

You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions. 

“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.” 

Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.” 

His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real. 

“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?” 

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins. 

“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the  board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.” 

“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?” 

“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.” 

“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself. 

“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit. 

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.” 

You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?” 

“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo. 

“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー” 

“I’ll do it.”

You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?” 

Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.” 

“y/n!” 

You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears. 

As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag. 

You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together. 

“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.” 

“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress. 

“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief. 

“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.” 

“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts. 

“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.” 

“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!” 

Ouch. That hurts. 

“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses. 

How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.

There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes. 

You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano. 

“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.  

When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man? 

“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint. 

He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing. 

You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”

“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him. 

You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act. 

Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!” 

“And he’s hot!” 

You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone. 

“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later. 

In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about. 

“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias. 

You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this. 

He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it. 

You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase. 

Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison. 

“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile. 

You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close. 

“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward. 

Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear. 

“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes. 

Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk. 

A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose. 

“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head. 

“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.” 

“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize. 

His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength. 

“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.” 

Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile. 

“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his. 

You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action. 

Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. 

The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close. 

“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles. 

“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. 

With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.” 

Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out. 

“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.” 

Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.” 

“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks. 

You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle. 

Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?” 

You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.

“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.” 

“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought. 

“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.” 

“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question. 

“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation. 

“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you. 

“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better. 

The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions. 

You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?” 

“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?” 

“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”

“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had. 

Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe. 

He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum. 

Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core). 

He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever. 

You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms. 

“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true. 

For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.  

In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day. 

You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange. 

His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required. 

Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does. 

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins. 

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours. 

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating. 

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.” 

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.” 

After all, this is just pretend. 

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner. 

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.

You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.

The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!” 

During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is. 

…

True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.

When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire. 

Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul. 

It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy. 

You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table. 

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you. 

“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-” 

Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.” 

In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system. 

After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family. 

When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy. 

“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines. 

You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”

The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump. 

“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest. 

Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept. 

You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.” 

A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?” 

You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother. 

“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.” 

Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does. 

“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall. 

“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.” 

You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night. 

Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.” 

You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book. 

As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’

“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff. 

“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?” 

Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room. 

You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos. 

Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?” 

“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.” 

“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.

Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.” 

The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip. 

“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand. 

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives. 

Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.

“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway. 

“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts. 

“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.” 

Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine. 

Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo. 

When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire? 

With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw. 

“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board. 

When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.

“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes. 

Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.

“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.” 

“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips. 

You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder. 

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.” 

Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him. 

When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you. 

As it seems, fate has other plans. 

While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there. 

“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself. 

You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows. 

“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.” 

You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter. 

When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to. 

“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice. 

Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. 

Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed. 

“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-” 

You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks. 

Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl. 

“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises. 

Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table. 

You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.” 

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires. 

“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.” 

Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying. 

You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside. 

It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.

“Eomma?”

It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.” 

These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about? 

The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you. 

Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning. 

You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?” 

Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears. 

“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts. 

You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back. 

“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.” 

“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks. 

“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-” 

“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night? 

You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it. 

“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again. 

On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception). 

“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.

Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.” 

Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.

In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back. 

Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”

Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?” 

Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned. 

“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained. 

“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no? 

With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.” 

The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again. 

Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted. 

“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.” 

There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?” 

You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him. 

His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores. 

“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night. 

“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders. 

You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.” 

“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.” 

You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top. 

Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference. 

Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now. 

“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.” 

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.” 

“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?” 

Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day. 

You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks. 

“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction. 

His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn. 

The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life. 

Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose. 

“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast. 

Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right? 

 “Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream. 

“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries. 

Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.” 

“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?” 

But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away. 

…

In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe. 

When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does. 

For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely. 

“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle. 

Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?” 

Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share. 

Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.

“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.” 

“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?” 

He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?” 

He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle. 

You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?” 

His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.” 

He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers. 

This is still practice… right? 

As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment. 

A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly. 

“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful. 

“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him. 

He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush. 

You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest. 

Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?” 

He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin. 

Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.” 

His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you. 

But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic. 

…

The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you. 

“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action. 

There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want. 

“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work. 

Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper. 

“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.” 

On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn. 

As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day. 

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Dear reader, If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.  My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.  I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right? Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.  Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.  But lately, being with him brings me to life.  Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.  Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other. 

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Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.  Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.  Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do. They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.  Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.  But it’s not true.  I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.  I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.  It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.  There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.

By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem. 

Jeongguk is late. 

He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong. 

The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most? 

Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat. 

A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends. 

Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face. 

Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking. 

You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay. 

So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together. 

“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place? 

“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.” 

You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.” 

He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles. 

“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”

There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out. 

“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.” 

There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.

“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace. 

After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry. 

Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently  move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband. 

You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator. 

Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago. 

Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him. 

The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring. 

Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time. 

Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape. 

Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting. 

While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.” 

“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.

His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm. 

He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?” 

You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?” 

“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.” 

But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it. 

Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes. 

Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that. 

Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools. 

Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing. 

Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand. 

You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship? 

For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.

“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen. 

All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while. 

Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.

But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love. 

“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination. 

But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?” 

“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question. 

“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks. 

“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.

“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.” 

“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders. 

“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs. 

Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him. 

“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.” 

You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention? 

There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess. 

…

At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk. 

Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex. 

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?” 

You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…” 

“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-” 

“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort. 

“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink. 

“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.” 

You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice. 

Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.

Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.  

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away. 

“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay. 

You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care. 

The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better. 

But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors. 

Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him. 

For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.

A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room. 

…

The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom. 

His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face. 

You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist. 

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment. 

He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?” 

“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?” 

You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine. 

“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.  

He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes. 

“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck. 

“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”

He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.” 

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders. 

“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.” 

“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”

“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”

Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters. 

There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out. 

“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate. 

“Jeongguk- Love?”

The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin. 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.” 

A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.” 

“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek. 

A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.

“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming. 

You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself. 

Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you. 

Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?” 

“M- maybe we could hold hands?” 

“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders. 

“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.” 

“Can I suggest something?” 

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.” 

He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?” 

You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.” 

“Then can I hold you?”

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.

Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.

A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth. 

“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice. 

“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart. 

To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips. 

Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading. 

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers. 

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were. 

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.” 

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control. 

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips. 

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.” 

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.” 

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him. 

So you do. 

When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment. 

His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes. 

You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips. 

“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions. 

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.” 

Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.” 

He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance. 

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?” 

“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.” 

You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do. 

“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.

He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”

God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more. 

You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to? 

“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail. 

“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips. 

“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined. 

“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”

Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him? 

You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’

There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.

“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…” 

“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”

“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.” 

Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection. 

He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?” 

“C- can I?” you stutter. 

“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.” 

With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together. 

His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.” 

With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges. 

“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away. 

“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.” 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him. 

“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.” 

Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs. 

As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through. 

To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs. 

A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost. 

He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”

You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist. 

“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.

There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor. 

His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off. 

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless. 

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest. 

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?” 

His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.

Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his. 

Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom. 

“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.” 

Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body. 

What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound. 

Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”

You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.” 

“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides. 

You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.  

“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off. 

Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor. 

Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body. 

“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours. 

Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate. 

“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.

Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional. 

Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you. 

With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love. 

He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched. 

You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress. 

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light. 

Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.” 

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting. 

The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock. 

His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste. 

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.  

Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.” 

He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him. 

He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source. 

“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before? 

Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third. 

You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers. 

“Guk- love, I-”

“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt. 

At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody. 

He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline. 

Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head. 

He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?” 

“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch. 

Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock. 

Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.” 

But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”

“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses. 

“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur. 

What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length. 

“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”

Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-” 

You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”

Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt. 

You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.

“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans. 

You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy. 

“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure. 

“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires. 

He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.” 

His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.

“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls. 

But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.” 

Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife. 

You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him. 

“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses. 

“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him. 

He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch. 

Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes. 

“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”

You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.

He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.” 

You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.

He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion. 

“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion. 

A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere. 

“How’s it, angel?” 

“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth. 

“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. 

Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg. 

“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.” 

Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess. 

“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close. 

Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess. 

He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now. 

The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow. 

But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours. 

Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high. 

“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.” 

You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions. 

“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go. 

He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length. 

You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all. 

Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four. 

Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you. 

“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?” 

“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life. 

Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel. 

The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind. 

“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?” 

His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference. 

Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives. 

Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school? 

So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family. 

Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire). 

All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment. 

Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school. 

The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”

She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-” 

The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?” 

“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper. 

“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.” 

“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table. 

Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay. 

“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.

The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask. 

However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?” 

You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement. 

“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.” 

“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills. 

Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action. 

“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace. 

He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room. 

Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.

“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.

Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle. 

Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it. 

“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.” 

There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-” 

Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you? 

Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.” 

Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?” 

The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction. 

Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did. 

…

Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter. 

While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey. 

When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble. 

This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.

“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.” 

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | honeymoon special

You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing! 

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings (explicit): semi-public sex (in a caravan on a campsite), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, nudity, oral (female and male receiving), breast play (sucking, slight biting), hickeys, squirting, deepthroating, creampie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, pleasing kink → Author’s note(1): another extra for friendcation is here! 🥳 I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜  → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next (soon) →

When Yoongi revealed that he had already booked your honeymoon, you envisioned a sun-soaked paradise where you could bask in the golden warmth, bathe in crystal-clear waters, and revel in the essence of summer. But instead of tropical shores, you found yourself in the rugged mountains of Norway, on the cusp of autumn, where nature whispered secrets in the crisp, cool air. Yoongi had chosen this destination, a place forever etched in his heart from a trip with friends many years ago. He longed to share its raw, breathtaking beauty with you, and as you stood there, surrounded by towering peaks and pristine wilderness, you had to admit—the splendor was undeniable. Majestic mountains embraced the horizon, and the forest teemed with life—graceful deer gliding silently among the trees, playful squirrels darting about in a dance of their own.

For nearly a week, you nestled in a quaint cottage deep within the mountains, cocooned in the serene tranquility of nature. Each day, the world seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every moment in this hidden paradise. But now, a new adventure beckons as your journey takes you onward to Denmark, with the enchanting landscapes of Sweden to explore first. The anticipation of Swedish forests, mirrored lakes, and ancient woodlands fills you with a quiet excitement, promising more adventures and moments of serene beauty.

The weather is a delicate dance between warm sunlight and the early September chill, hinting at the approach of autumn. Your journey from Norway to Sweden unfolds by bus, and upon arrival, a picturesque walk from the bus stop to your next secluded cottage awaits. The lightness of your luggage, carefully packed with warm clothes, turns the trek into an enjoyable prelude to the days ahead. You silently thank Yoongi for the foresight to pack hiking boots, as the rugged terrain tests your endurance. But the challenge is worth it, as each evening is rewarded with the simple pleasure of curling up in Yoongi’s arms, his hands soothing your tired feet as the day’s adventures fade into the warmth of the firelight.

In the Swedish cabin, time flows effortlessly, unburdened by the outside world. Yoongi, ever the thoughtful partner, prepares mouthwatering meals with ingredients fresh from the surrounding land, and with patient hands, he teaches you the art of fishing—a skill that had always eluded you on previous vacations. His steady guidance, coupled with whispered advice to remain silent, keeps the fish from fleeing, and you manage to catch a few, only to release them back into their watery home with a sense of reverence. Days are spent hiking the rolling hills and dense forests, each return to the cabin marked by the comforting embrace of each other’s arms, the crackle of the fire, and the soft murmur of the wilderness outside. Time slips away like water through your fingers, and before you know it, you’re packing for the next chapter of your journey.

The bus carries you southward, where a train awaits to whisk you to Denmark. There, just outside Copenhagen, you rent a car and a charming caravan trailer, your home on wheels for the next leg of your adventure. Denmark’s landscape, while familiar to Sweden’s, carries its own unique charm—its language more rough, its fields more open, a reminder that every place, like every person, has its own distinct personality.

Both you and Yoongi present your driver’s licenses, receive the keys, and locate your vehicles with the excitement of a new journey just beginning. Yoongi takes the wheel, his hands confidently guiding you northward to a place called Thy, a region he had spoken of with a quiet reverence. The local radio station fills the car with the lively tunes of Danish pop music, and as the road unfolds before you, a bridge rises to meet the horizon. You recline into your seat, lulled by the soothing rhythm of the road beneath you, when Yoongi mentions needing a break. He spots a rest stop, effortlessly maneuvering into a spacious parking area, and for a moment, the world outside pauses, allowing you both to take a breath and savor the journey that lies ahead.

Yoongi quickly exits, making a beeline for the restrooms, while you step out, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. The late hour casts a golden glow, the sun hanging low on the horizon, bathing the world in a warm, amber light that feels like a fleeting embrace. Around you, the scene is tranquil yet alive—lush green trees stand as silent sentinels, large trucks and trailers rest like sleeping giants, and an array of cars glimmer under the fading daylight. Your gaze drifts to a small store nearby, and you consider the idea of grabbing a meal, but something else catches your attention. A group of young men huddles around a car with its hood propped open, their faces etched with worry, a silent image of distress. Though the intricacies of engines elude you, Yoongi’s knack for mechanics brings a knowing smile to your lips. Almost as if sensing the moment, he appears beside you, his hand finding yours with effortless grace.

You gesture toward the troubled vehicle, your voice soft yet tinged with curiosity. “Do you think we should ask if they need help?”

Yoongi clears his throat, a quiet confidence in his nod, always eager to lend a hand when cars are involved. Together, you approach the trio and their ailing car, a shared purpose drawing you forward.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks in English, his voice carrying a note of calm assurance. Two of the young men exchange giggles, their reason a mystery, but the one peering under the hood turns to Yoongi with relief plain in his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“I’m a mechanic. I don’t mind taking a look,” Yoongi replies, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veined forearms, a sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “Babe, can you grab me a flashlight?” he asks, his voice gentle, and you’re quick to comply, retrieving it from the rental car. As the sun sinks lower, each sliver of light becomes precious, a fleeting gift for Yoongi’s hands to work by.

With the flashlight in hand, you stand close, watching Yoongi immerse himself in the task, his focus as sharp and radiant as the golden hour surrounding you both. His expertise becomes a quiet melody in the twilight, a dance of hands and metal that feels almost sacred in its simplicity.

“I’m Jonas, by the way. Thanks for looking at the car,” the young man says, stepping away to rejoin his laughing friends, a moment of lightness amidst their concern. You watch him playfully slap one of them on the arm, the sound of laughter briefly filling the air before your attention returns to Yoongi. You adjust the flashlight, its beam following the precise movements of his hands as he examines the engine. Yoongi lets out those soft, endearing noises he makes when deeply engrossed in a task, a habit he likely doesn’t even realize he has, but one that always stirs something deep within you. This moment is no different. Watching him work with such intensity sends warmth through you, a reminder of why you cherish these shared moments, even in the most unexpected places.

Grease begins to smudge his hands as he delves deeper under the hood, reattaching a loose valve and checking fluid levels with the practiced ease of someone who has spent years mastering his craft. Over time, you’ve absorbed a few of his car maintenance tips, knowledge passed on in quiet moments like these. Yoongi steps back from the car, a signal for you to turn off the flashlight, and you comply as Jonas, his brows knit with lingering concern, approaches to hear Yoongi’s verdict.

“I reattached a loose valve,” Yoongi explains, his tone measured and thoughtful, “and you’re low on radiator fluid. Be cautious when you drive; the car could overheat. You should refill it as soon as possible. Do you live nearby? It’s risky to drive far in this condition.”

The young man nods, gratitude and relief mingling in his expression. And as you stand there, bathed in the fading light, you can’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction in the simple act of helping, of being there in that moment with Yoongi, where the beauty of the setting sun is matched only by the warmth of his presence beside you.

Jonas nods, a wave of relief washing over his face. “We live close—we’re almost home. I’ll drive carefully and contact my mechanic tomorrow,” he says, offering a grateful smile. Yet, as his friends snicker behind him, their eyes linger on you with a gaze that feels like a brush of unwelcome heat, as if you’re some forbidden temptation. “Thank you so much for your help,” Jonas adds, shaking Yoongi’s hand with a vigor that speaks to his gratitude, pulling him into a spontaneous hug.

Yoongi returns the gesture with warmth, clearly pleased to have made a difference. As he walks back to you, you notice him wiping his greasy hands together in a futile attempt to clean them, a small smile playing on your lips at the sight.

You greet him with a smoldering gaze, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, a kiss that holds both affection and a touch of mischief. Are you putting on a show for the boys who ogled you earlier? Absolutely. As you pull away, you lean into his ear, your voice a whisper in English, “You always look so damn hot when you’re working. I can’t wait for you to fuck me later.” Your words are barely audible, yet you catch the sound of one of the guys choking in surprise, a wicked smile curling your lips as you take Yoongi’s hand. With a playful wave to the three gaping men, you turn and saunter back to your rental car, feeling Yoongi’s hand squeeze your ass with a low chuckle.

“You’re such a good and dirty girl,” he murmurs, his words a spark that sends warmth pooling in your core. His praise, his touch, his very presence—everything about him ignites the fire within you.

Slipping back into the car, Yoongi starts the engine, the soft rumble beneath you a prelude to the journey ahead. The night deepens as you drive, the world outside dissolving into shadows and starlight, the road a ribbon of dark velvet stretching toward the unknown. Hours later, you arrive at a quiet camping ground nestled in the northern wilderness. Yoongi picks a spot at random, the exhaustion of the day evident in the slump of your bodies. He parks and turns off the car, the silence of the night settling around you like a blanket.

Yoongi sets to work preparing the caravan, a compact haven of white and beige. Inside, it holds a tiny kitchen with a sink, fridge, and portable stove, a dining area that converts into a bed, bunks that will remain untouched, and a small bathroom. As he transforms the dining space into a bed, you slip out of your clothes and into one of his shirts, the familiar scent of him comforting against your skin. Yoongi follows suit, and after brushing your teeth together, you both crawl into bed, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of each other’s presence. 

He spoons you, his body pressing close, and you feel the unmistakable hardness against your ass, a thrill of desire sparking within you. Unable to resist, you grind back into him, eliciting quick, needy sounds that only fuel your own arousal. You turn to capture his lips in a kiss, your voice breathless as you whisper how much you need him.

Without a word, he turns you over, his hands deftly pulling down your panties and sliding his own underwear aside. The moment he enters you, a sigh escapes your lips, the smooth glide of him filling you completely, a perfect fit that sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. He moves with a rhythm that drives you wild, each thrust deeper, more urgent, as his hand finds your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you until it snaps, your climax washing over you in a wave of pure ecstasy. He follows soon after, his warm release filling you as he grunts against your neck, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder.

In the afterglow, he gently pulls your panties back up, his touch tender as you both settle into the bed, the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Exhaustion pulls you under, and with the comforting weight of Yoongi beside you, you drift into a deep, contented sleep, the echoes of your shared passion lingering in the quiet night.

Morning breaks with the gentle chorus of birdsong and sunlight spilling into the caravan like liquid gold. You groan softly, stretching your limbs as Yoongi stirs beside you, his warmth anchoring you to the comfort of the moment. The new day whispers promises of fresh adventures, but for now, you linger in the serenity, savoring the feel of his body close to yours.

“Morning, babe,” he murmurs, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his hair tousled in a way that only adds to his effortless charm.

“Morning, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, a gentle exchange of warmth before you rise to greet the day. The morning routine is simple and sweet—brushing teeth and hair, sharing a light breakfast—each small act grounding you in the shared rhythm of your lives.

Stepping outside, the landscape unfolds before you, vast and open, dotted with tufts of grass and stretches of sand. The air is brisk, carrying the salty tang of the sea and the constant, soothing lull of waves crashing against the distant shore. You inhale deeply, the cold, invigorating air filling your lungs as you take Yoongi’s hand, the two of you setting off to explore the campground, the natural beauty around you awakening with the first light of day. The world is still in its early stirrings, granting you a peaceful solitude, a shared quiet that feels almost sacred.

As you stroll, the calm is broken by the sight of an elderly couple walking past—naked. You exchange a startled glance with Yoongi, his expression mirroring your own surprise. The closer you draw to the beach, the more you realize that everyone around you is unabashedly bare, the air thick with a sense of freedom that feels, to you, both strange and out of place. Overdressed and bemused, you settle down on the sandy shore, leaning into Yoongi as you take in the unexpected scene.

“What is this place?” you murmur, half-amused, half-bewildered by the sight of naked bodies in every direction. Yoongi chuckles, pulling out his phone to solve the mystery. Moments later, his laughter bubbles up, contagious and bright.

“It’s a nudist campsite and beach,” he explains, his eyes sparkling with amusement as realization dawns on you. Laughter spills from your lips, a shared moment of levity in the midst of this peculiar discovery. There’s something admirable about the courage of those around you, their ease in embracing their natural state, even if it’s not a comfort you share. With a grin, you tell Yoongi that while you can appreciate their confidence, you’d much rather prefer a different campsite—one where the only naked body you see is his, perhaps later tonight.

The day unfolds in a series of light-hearted decisions and shared smiles. Later, you venture into the chilly embrace of the sea, donning your swimwear despite the nudist surroundings. The water is cold, biting against your skin, yet it awakens something within you—an invigorating contrast to the warmth of the morning, cleansing and bracing. Afterward, you drive into a nearby town for lunch, soaking in the lively atmosphere, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the sound of laughter. Hand in hand, you wander through quaint shops, not seeking anything in particular, but relishing the simple pleasure of being together.

The hours pass in a blend of humor and quiet adventure, each moment wrapped in the comfort of Yoongi’s presence. Together, you weave through the day, creating a tapestry of memories that feel destined to become cherished stories—reminders of the joy found in the unexpected, and the beauty of sharing life’s quirks with the one you love.

You return to the campsite, hitching the caravan back to the rental car, eager to find a new haven—a place where the landscape is as private as your desires. The drive is peaceful, the miles slipping away under a sky that deepens into twilight, leading you to a secluded campground far removed from the nudist site. As night falls, you settle into the quiet embrace of nature, the only witnesses to your evening the stars that begin to shimmer above.

Under a canopy of twinkling lights, you and Yoongi sit side by side on a pair of worn stools, warm cups of tea in hand. The night is cool, the air crisp, and the silence between you is companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that comes from years of shared moments like this. The sky stretches out endlessly above, a vast canvas of dark velvet scattered with diamonds, and you both soak in its serene beauty, letting the tranquility of the moment wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

Later, you retreat to the warmth of your caravan, its small space transformed into a world of your own. Curled up in bed, you lean in for a kiss, the softness of his lips familiar yet always thrilling. Your fingers find the waistband of his boxers, and with a deliberate slowness, you peel them away, revealing his hard cock that you always crave. Your desire for him is insatiable, a fire that never dims, only burns hotter with each passing touch.

Wearing nothing beneath your nightshirt, your slick arousal greets him as you straddle his hips, a low moan escaping your lips as you grind down, the friction intoxicating. The rough texture of his pubic hair against your sensitive skin, the solid heat of his cock against your aching pussy—every sensation drives you wild, fueling the need that pulses through you.

Dripping with want, you wrap your hands around his thick dick, guiding him to your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him. The stretch is exquisite, your body accommodating him inch by inch until your ass meets his pelvis, the fullness making you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re always so big,” you pant, the words tumbling out as pleasure ripples through you, your head falling back in ecstasy.

His groan is guttural, raw, as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, his need for you as urgent as yours for him. “Taking me so good, baby,” he rasps, already breathless, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You hum in response, setting a steady rhythm as you begin to move, your hands splayed against his chest for balance. Leaning forward, you press kisses to his collarbones, his neck, your breath hitching as you whisper into his ear, “Get me pregnant, Yoon.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a reaction as instant as it is powerful, the mere idea pushing him closer to the edge. His grip tightens, possessive, and he begins to thrust up into you, his movements seeking control as he chases that intoxicating thought. His hips snap against yours with a newfound urgency, his pace relentless as he drives deeper, harder.

He holds you still as he pounds into your warm, wet heat, each thrust tearing a scream from your throat. You try to muffle your cries, aware of the thin caravan walls and the nearby campers, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and it’s impossible to stay quiet under his relentless onslaught.

Together, you find a rhythm, a perfect synchrony that sends you both hurtling toward the edge. He hits your g-spot with precision, over and over, until the coil in your stomach tightens to the point of breaking. With a choked cry, you unravel around him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as your body releases a rush of liquid heat, soaking his cock as you convulse in his arms.

Panting, you cling to him, your body shuddering as he continues to move, his pace unyielding until you collapse against his chest, utterly spent. It’s more intimate like this, your bodies pressed close, and as you whisper filthy promises in his ear, nipping at his lobe, he comes inside you with a deep groan, filling you with his warmth as he grunts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in lazy kisses.

You both gasp for breath, slick with sweat and the mingled scent of your lovemaking. He cleans you gently with a towel, his touch tender, before pulling you back into his arms. You drift off to sleep in his embrace, safe and sated, just as you love to.

The terrain here is gentler, the low elevations a welcome reprieve from the rugged mountains of Norway and Sweden. Your days have been spent in quiet contentment, the two of you fishing in the calm waters, the simplicity of the act bringing a sense of peace. Words aren’t needed in these moments, the silence speaking volumes as you sit side by side, casting lines and sharing smiles.

One day, you take a bus into Aarhus, the city buzzing with life on a cold Friday night. The decision to take public transport is an easy one—no need to worry about driving as you plan to indulge in the vibrant nightlife. The contrast between the quiet days spent in nature and the energy of the city is exhilarating, and you look forward to a night of laughter and exploration, knowing that whatever the evening holds, it will be another memory to cherish with Yoongi by your side.

You’re adorned in a flowing dress that sways with every step, its fabric catching the cool breeze of mid-September. Warm boots hug your feet, grounding you as you navigate the lively streets. Yoongi walks beside you, his own boots echoing softly against the cobblestones. He’s dressed in jeans, a fitted shirt, and a cozy jacket that accentuates his broad shoulders. You’re wrapped in a jacket too, its warmth a welcome shield against the evening chill that settles in like a whisper from autumn itself.

The streets pulse with life, alive with throngs of people—mostly the young and inebriated, their laughter loud and words slurred, their steps unsteady as they weave through the neon-lit night. You and Yoongi sip your drinks, savoring the night with a quiet restraint, the alcohol a gentle warmth rather than a dizzying rush. Neon signs bathe the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, each one calling out the names of bars and clubs, their music spilling into the air, a chaotic symphony of bass and beats.

You step into one of the clubs, but the moment you cross the threshold, the music hits you like a wave, overwhelming and disorienting. The crowd presses in, bodies moving in a fevered dance, leaving no room to breathe. You cringe as strangers brush against you, the invasion of your space unsettling. Yoongi’s discomfort mirrors your own, his eyes scanning the room with a protective edge.

Then, a rasping voice invades your ear, the breath hot and unwelcome. “Well, aren’t you a sweet thing,” the man sneers in English, his tone dripping with an arrogance that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. A hand suddenly grabs your ass, and you know instantly—it’s not Yoongi’s.

Anger flares in you, sharp and hot. With a swift, decisive motion, you swat the offending hand away, spinning to face the drunken stranger. His eyes are wide and unfocused, lost in a haze of alcohol. He leans in, but before he can get any closer, Yoongi steps between you, his presence a solid barrier, gently pushing the man back. The stranger grunts, his voice slurred and angry in a language you don’t understand.

Yoongi turns to you, concern etched in the lines of his face, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. You nod, signaling that you’re okay, but just as you turn to leave, a rough hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate, but you step in front of him, a surge of determination coursing through you. The stranger’s grip tightens, but you seize his jaw with your free hand, your fingers digging in with a strength born of irritation. You stare into his startled eyes, your voice low and laced with venom. “I don’t appreciate that,” you hiss, each word deliberate. “I’m happily married, and I don’t want you touching me.”

The force in your grip makes him wince, and he releases your wrist, his bravado crumbling as regret flickers across his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the fight leaving him.

You push him back, asserting your anger one final time before turning away, not wasting another second on him. Grabbing Yoongi’s hand, you pull him toward the exit, the need to escape the stifling club overwhelming. Outside, the cold night air fills your lungs, sharp and cleansing, each breath forming small clouds in the chilly atmosphere. The tension begins to melt away, and you savor the fresh, crisp night, grateful for the comforting presence of Yoongi at your side, his warmth a constant reassurance.

“That was kinda hot,” he murmurs, his voice low as he presses his body against yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin. “The way you handled yourself in there, babe.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cold.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice still carrying the edge of disgust from the stranger’s touch. “But it was disgusting. His hands on my ass.”

Yoongi hums in sympathy, his grip on your hand tightening as if to ground you both. “I don’t like other people touching you like that,” he says, his voice filled with a protective anger. “I’m sorry that happened,” he says in a much softer voice, making sure you’re okay.

You chuckle softly, the sound carrying a hint of relief. “Yeah. I know you’re possessive, Yoon.”

“If we’d stayed there a moment longer, I would’ve decked him,” he huffs, the street lamps casting a warm, golden glow on the sidewalk as you walk.

“Oh, I know. But I don’t want you getting arrested in another country—or back home, for that matter,” you laugh lightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I had it under control. But thank you for having my back.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and intimate, and just then, you arrive at the bus station.

The cold air bites at your skin, making you shiver as you wait. Relief washes over you as the bus finally arrives, its doors opening to reveal a sanctuary of warmth. You step inside, the chill of the night giving way to the cozy embrace of heated air. Settling into a seat, you lean against Yoongi’s shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you.

“Maybe we’re too old to drink and party,” you muse, your voice a soft murmur that mingles with the hum of the bus.

Yoongi’s laugh is like a melody, soothing and familiar, a sound that feels like home. “Maybe,” he agrees, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You’re an old man now,” you quip, playfully squeezing his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath.

“Hey,” he retorts, mock indignation coloring his tone, “you’re not much younger than me.”

Laughter bubbles up between you, the shared humor easing the tensions of the night. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind that lingers long after the sound fades.

Back at the caravan, the atmosphere shifts, the night thick with anticipation. A surge of power and desire courses through you, igniting a fire that demands to be quenched. Seizing Yoongi’s jaw with the same assertiveness you’d shown the stranger earlier, you back him against the wall. Your gaze locks onto his, a silent command that he’s all too eager to obey.

With a teasing smile, you lick his chin, tasting the salt of his skin. “I want you, Yoon,” you whisper, your voice a sultry purr that sends shivers down his spine.

His breath hitches, the sound rough and needy. His eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as you tighten your grip on his jaw. “I want your tongue on my clit,” you command, the words slipping from your lips like a sinful prayer.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. 

“Now,” you add, your voice brooking no argument.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops to his knees with a reverence that makes your heart race, his hands sliding up your thighs to hike up your dress. The fabric pools around your waist as he tugs down your panties, his breath warm against your bare skin. You giggle in anticipation, the sound light and breathless.

He teases you first, a slow lick that sends sparks of pleasure through your body, followed by a gentle suck that makes you gasp. But then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he spins you around, your legs hitting the bed. You fall onto it with a soft thud, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. Yoongi chuckles darkly, crawling over you like a predator about to claim his prey.

He spreads your legs, the cool air brushing against your slick heat. And then he’s on you, his mouth finding your clit with a precision that makes your toes curl. His plush tongue licks and sucks, each movement sending you higher, closer to the edge. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you grind against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that looms just out of reach.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you pant, your voice a breathless plea as pleasure builds within you, sharp and relentless.

He slurps, the sound obscene and utterly delicious. When you glance down, the sight of him between your legs—his face glistening with your arousal, his eyes alight with desire—undoes you completely. You come apart with a cry, your body trembling as the orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your grip tightens in his hair, holding him to you as he licks you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow and sensual.

When you finally signal it’s enough, he pulls back, his face shining with your essence, drops of it splattered across his cheeks and lips. He looks so fucking hot, and he’s yours—your husband, your love, your everything. The thought swells in your chest, your heart beating a wild rhythm of adoration.

“You’re so hot when you squirt on my face,” he says, his voice husky with satisfaction as he sticks out his tongue to lick at the drops he can reach. The sight makes your pussy flutter with renewed arousal.

“Fuck,” you moan, the need rising in you again. “I want to suck your dick so bad,” you groan, your voice laced with a desperate, aching need.

Yoongi chuckles, a low, rich sound as he stands and begins to undress completely. You watch him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body, from the strength in his shoulders to the ridges of muscle that ripple under his skin. He’s a vision, raw and powerful, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

With a look of pure desire, you drop to your knees before him. His hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat in his eyes. “You look so beautiful. Always,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence.

His praise sends a thrill through you, your body responding to the way he worships you with his words and his touch. Humming in appreciation, you reach out to grasp his cock, your hand soft as it glides along his length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your palm as you stroke him.

You stick your tongue out, gathering saliva before you engulf him in the warmth of your mouth. You suck him like a piece of candy, savoring the taste of him, focusing on the sensitive frenulum and the head of his cock.

His hands land on your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he grunts in need. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your mouth as you work him over with slow, deliberate movements.

You begin to hum, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure down his length. You love watching him unravel before you, his control slipping as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, his grip tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, your mouth a hot, wet haven that he never wants to leave.

“Babe,” he warns, his voice taut with anticipation, a delicious strain that sends shivers down your spine. He’s closer than you anticipated, but you don’t relent. You want to push him over the edge, to taste his release. He tries to pull you off, his hands trembling, but you bat them away with a determined swat, drawing him closer, deeper. Without intending to, you deepthroat him, and his resistance melts into a soft moan, his legs buckling beneath the weight of his pleasure.

You steady your breath, fighting your gag reflex as you close your eyes and do it again, taking him in as deep as you can, your throat tightening around him. Your free hand moves to his balls, feeling the tension there, the tightness that signals just how close he is. A deep, primal groan escapes you as you pull off with a wet pop, only to engulf him again, your pace quickening with purpose.

You can hear it in his voice, the way he moans your name, each syllable a testament to how close he is to unraveling. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but you don’t give him that luxury. You push him closer, until, with a broken cry of your name, he spills into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid hitting your tongue in waves.

You watch his face contort in pure ecstasy, every line and shadow a portrait of his pleasure. When he’s spent, you swallow with a satisfied hum, pressing a teasing kiss to the sensitive tip of his cock, making him shudder with the aftershocks of bliss.

Panting, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, still trying to catch his breath. “You know,” he says, his voice still thick with pleasure, “you’re never gonna get pregnant if I come in your mouth.”

You giggle, a light, airy sound that cuts through the lingering heat between you. “Maybe not,” you concede, “but I love this too, you know. And we should have fun while we try.” You glance down, watching as he slowly softens, your heart swelling with affection for him. Leaning up, you capture his lips in a hungry kiss, pulling him down onto the bed where you eventually drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

A few days later, a strange ache tugs at your stomach, a sensation that’s unfamiliar, different from the usual pangs of your period. You brush it aside, though, too excited about the day ahead. Today, you and Yoongi are going surfing in a place known as ‘Cold Hawaii’, a name that hints at both adventure and the chill that comes with it. Neither of you knows how to surf, but that’s part of the thrill. You’re determined to make the most of it.

You head to a surf shop called ‘West Wind’, the air bristling with the energy of the ocean and the people who live for it. The shop is alive with the scent of saltwater and waxed boards, the sound of wetsuits being zipped up, and the murmur of excited voices. You rent surfboards and wetsuits, changing in nearby stalls, and then you’re off to the sea, the brisk air nipping at your cheeks, but the excitement in your veins keeps you warm.

The beach is a hive of activity, surfers riding the waves with effortless grace, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the sea. Your instructor, a local with a laid-back demeanor, walks you through the basics: how to balance, where to place your feet. He makes it seem so simple, so intuitive, but you know it’s anything but.

When the time comes, you lie chest-down on the board, the cold water lapping at your sides as you wait for the right wave. The instructor’s voice guides you, telling you when to paddle, when to pop up. But it’s harder than it looks. Your first few attempts are clumsy, your legs wobbling as you try to stand, only to topple back into the water with a splash. You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and carefree, mingling with the roar of the waves.

Yoongi, with his natural grace, seems to get the hang of it quicker. You watch in admiration as he balances perfectly on the board, his posture steady, his movements controlled. But just as you think he’s got it, he loses his balance and tumbles into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a moment before popping back up, his black hair plastered to his face, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

You burst out laughing at the sight, the sound of your mirth carrying over the waves. Even the instructor joins in, chuckling at Yoongi’s comical fall. “That was actually good,” he says encouragingly, his tone warm and supportive. “You should both try again.”

Yoongi moves with an effortless grace, a natural on the board, and you can’t help but scuff lightly, rolling your eyes as you watch him balance perfectly, riding the waves as if he were born to them. His ease draws the instructor’s attention more towards you, his voice a steady mantra in your ear, urging you to paddle, paddle, paddle as the wave swells behind you, to pop up and find your balance before the ocean has a chance to pull you under.

You give it your all, and for one brief, glorious moment, you actually manage to stand, your feet finding purchase on the slick surface of the board. But the victory is fleeting; your balance falters so quickly it feels like whiplash, and the next thing you know, you’re crashing into the water, its cold embrace hitting your face hard. Your palms scrape the sandy bottom, and you sputter, your mouth and nose filled with the sting of salty water. The instructor isn’t fazed in the least, his calm demeanor a testament to his experience, and you tell yourself it’s okay—this is so much harder than it looks.

But you’re determined, your resolve like the tide itself, unwavering and persistent. Again and again, you try, each fall more bruising than the last, the surfboard sometimes feeling like it has a vendetta against you. Yet every time you’re knocked down, you get back up, driven by the desire to conquer at least one wave. Yoongi’s big, beaming smile tells you he’s loving every minute of this, his joy infectious even as you struggle.

“Just try again,” the instructor encourages, his tone unwavering, and you do, despite the toll it’s taking on your body. Your muscles ache, sore from the relentless attempts, and a small part of you wonders how long you’ve been at this. Time feels fluid out here, with the waves as your only measure.

Thankfully, the leash tethering you to the board spares you the task of chasing it down after each tumble, a small mercy in the midst of the challenge. You huff out a breath, catching Yoongi’s comforting gaze, his look of support giving you the strength to try once more.

Lying chest down on the board, you let the water cradle you, feeling the swell of a wave approaching. You paddle with renewed determination, and as the wave lifts you, you pop up, finding your balance. This time, you manage to stand, your feet steady beneath you, and the sensation is nothing short of euphoric. A giddy laugh bubbles up from your chest as you ride the wave, a wide smile splitting your face. “Look! I’m doing it!”

And then, inevitably, you hit the water face-first. But when you surface, it’s with a laugh of pure, unbridled joy. You’ve done it. After countless attempts, after losing track of how many times you’ve tried, you finally rode the wave, if only for a moment. And when you see the pride shining in Yoongi’s eyes, your heart swells with a happiness that makes every fall worth it.

Later, after drying off, you treat yourselves to ice cream, savoring the sweet, cold treat as you sit on the beach, wrapped in your warm jackets. The air is crisp, but the warmth between you is enough to keep the chill at bay. You walk hand in hand back to the caravan, the soft crunch of sand beneath your boots, noticing how many other caravans dot the campground. It’s a bustling scene, alive with the laughter of children running and playing, their joy infectious.

As you watch them, your heart warms, and you can’t help but wonder what it will be like when you have kids of your own. The thought lingers, sweet and tender, like the promise of more beautiful moments to come.

“My feet are so sore, Yoon,” you lament, the weight of the day heavy in each step as you both drag your tired bodies back to the warmth of the caravan.

“Mine too,” he admits with a playful lilt in his voice. “How about we give each other a massage?” The suggestion, though innocent in words, carries a hint of something more, and you feel the familiar embers of desire flicker to life within you.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, your words a soft cloud in the crisp night air. The thought of your hands on him, of his hands on you, sends a thrill through your weary body. You can’t wait to get inside, to feel his touch, to see where this simple act of care will lead.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes with a sigh of relief, the warmth of the caravan wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You share a quick bite, the soft glow of Yoongi’s phone casting shadows across your faces as something plays in the background, though neither of you pays much attention. It’s just a quiet moment, a pause before the real focus begins.

Settling onto the bed, you both sit up, peeling off your socks with a mix of anticipation and fatigue. The first touch of his hands on your feet makes you release a needy sound, the soreness easing under his skilled fingers. Yoongi lets out a similar groan as you knead the tension from his feet, and the shared intimacy sends a wave of warmth straight to your core.

“This has been a wonderful honeymoon, Yoon,” you murmur, your breath a little unsteady as your fingers dig into the arch of his foot.

He hums in response, pleased and content, his eyes closing briefly before he looks at you, love shining in his gaze. “I’m so happy to hear that. You thought we were going someplace exotic, didn’t you?” He chuckles, pulling his foot back for a moment, ticklish under your touch, but then quickly offers it again, craving the comfort of your hands.

“Yeah, I really did,” you admit, smiling at him. “But this has been so lovely. Thank you.” There’s a softness in your voice, a gratitude that comes from the heart.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out easily, a simple truth between you.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth as he grabs your other foot. The touch of his calloused fingers on your tender skin draws a moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively to his care.

The atmosphere shifts, the once innocent massage now tinged with an undercurrent of desire. Your bodies are tired, but the need simmering between you is undeniable. His eyes darken with hunger as he watches you, and the heat in your core intensifies. Letting go of his foot, you crawl toward him, your lips seeking his in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet in a dance of passion, and your hands move with urgency, tugging at his clothes, helping him shed his shirt, his warmth pressing against you.

You make quick work of his pants, and he follows suit with yours, leaving you both in nothing but your underwear. The kiss deepens, your lips trailing down his body, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands move over you, and you tremble as he pulls your panties off, the cool air brushing against your wetness, sending shivers down your spine. 

Yoongi discards his boxers, his arousal evident, and your body quivers with the need to feel him inside you. He pulls you close, removing your bra with practiced ease, your breasts spilling free. His gaze lingers, filled with lust and love, before he leans down, his lips closing around a nipple. The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed.

“Yoongi,” you pant, your voice thick with desire as he tends to your other breast, his hand teasing and pulling at your nipple, sending sparks of heat to your pussy.

Your chest heaves with each breath, your body alive under his touch, every nerve ending ignited. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you tug at his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you cry out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he alternates between your breasts, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to push you over the edge. You could come just from this, and it wouldn’t be the first time. There’s no embarrassment, just raw desire.

“I’m—,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, arching your back into his face as you come undone. Your back arches, your body trembling as you come undone beneath him, his name a breathless whisper on your lips as the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of bliss.

A sudden knock on the door steals the breath from your lungs, and you freeze, eyes wide with shock. The intimacy of the moment shatters like fragile glass, and Yoongi, just as startled, pulls away. Instinctively, you reach for him, not wanting the spell to break, your heart pounding like a wild drum in your chest.

But Yoongi, ever the calm in your storm, quickly grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. The distance between you feels like a chasm as he opens the door, while you remain on the bed, flushed and breathless, your chest heaving, still glistening with the remnants of his kiss.

“Hi,” comes the low murmur of a man’s voice, intruding into your world as Yoongi runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to steady his breath.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man continues, his tone polite yet firm, “but could you keep it down? My kids are trying to sleep, and it’s getting a bit loud.”

Each word lands like a stone, sinking into the pit of your stomach as mortification blooms within you. The realization that your passion had spilled beyond the walls of your private sanctuary makes you wish the earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit. We’re so sorry,” Yoongi replies, his voice steady and apologetic as he bows slightly, the English words rolling off his tongue with ease. “We’ll be quieter. Sorry again.” With that, he closes the door, and the world narrows back down to just the two of you. For a moment, you just stare at each other, and the air feels thick with unspoken tension and embarrassment. Your breathing is still quick and you feel like you want to disappear, but Yoongi’s eyes ground you, and his soft smile lets you know it’s okay. The silence is stretching on, until Yoongi bursts out laughing, showing his perfect gums, which in turn makes you laugh too. Suddenly, you don’t feel so embarrassed, the laughter making way for the absurdity of the situation to dissipate a bit, and you just giggle, the atmosphere contagious.

He crosses the short distance to the bed, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’d suggest stuffing your mouth with my cock to keep you quiet,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You barely catch your breath as he adds, “But if you want to get pregnant this cycle, it needs to be in your vagina.”

His words set your heart racing anew, desire pooling hot and urgent within you. You stare at him, feeling the wetness between your thighs grow, your body responding to his every word.

“You’re ovulating, right?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a serious edge to his gaze.

You blink, the realization dawning like a slow sunrise. The ache in your stomach—it all makes sense. “I think I am, yeah,” you murmur, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

A devilish smile spreads across his face. “Well,” he clicks his tongue, his eyes darkening with intent, “then I’m going to fuck you, but you’ll have to be silent. There are people sleeping.”

You nod, breath hitching as the room seems to shrink around the two of you. 

With a practiced ease, Yoongi discards the towel and returns to the bed, his presence overwhelming as he hovers over you, still hard and ready. He takes himself in hand, giving a few slow pumps before his fingers find your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. “Bet I’ll slide right in.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan, knowing he’s right.

He aligns himself with your entrance, and with a smooth, unhurried thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The pleasure is instant and intense, but you remember the man’s words, biting into Yoongi’s discarded shirt to stifle your cries.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Yoongi rasps, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet as he begins to move, his pace steady and deep. The sound of your bodies meeting, slick and needy, fills the small caravan, mingling with the quiet grunts and whispered breaths.

With strong hands, he grips your thighs, spreading them wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. His thrusts quicken, each one bringing you closer to the edge, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fights to keep his own volume down.

“This pussy,” he whispers, his voice reverent as he pulls one leg down to reach between your bodies. His fingers find your clit, already swollen and sensitive, and he circles it with expert precision. “It’s mine, and it’s so gorgeous.”

Your vision blurs, your body trembling as a new wave of pleasure builds deep inside. You mumble incoherently into the shirt, but it doesn’t matter—Yoongi knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls clench around him.

He keeps his rhythm steady, his fingers teasing your clit while his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until, with a final, whispered plea of his name, you unravel completely, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body spasms, and you push the shirt out of your mouth, gasping for air as you whisper his name, the sound broken and desperate.

“Fuck, babe,” Yoongi groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. The way your body grips him, the way you moan his name—it’s too much. With a low growl, he thrusts deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills into you, warmth flooding your walls as he pants your name.

The world narrows to the feeling of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours as he collapses on top of you, both of you breathless and sated. You don’t mind the weight of him, your arms wrapping around his back as you press a tender kiss to his temple.

“I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin, his voice soft and filled with love.

“I can’t wait either,” you reply, your voice equally tender as you kiss him again, pouring all the love and gratitude you feel into that simple, sweet gesture.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts@constancelayon@wobblewobble822@ktownshizzle@moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

*I don't know why the fuck the taglist doesn't want to work anymore T_T I hope you all find it anyway!

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I have two more extras planned for this series and they’re coming soon! Please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask what you liked 💜 And please, remember it’s just fiction.

[nostxlgiax]

i swear (i never lied) | myg

title: i swear (i never lied) | myg (18+)

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: dark, angst, drama, smut

word count: 2.4k

status: complete

synopsis: reader knows how to fix cars and tie loose ends. powerful men are a newly acquired skill.

warnings: unprotected sex, semi public sex, shower sex, life debt, mob boss yoongi, illegal distribution, gun threats, hostage situation, minor character death, fucking under the influence (consensual pls)

“i’m a patient man,” is all yoongi says walking forward. his hand’s on his own waist for a change, small and toned, she’s had her tongue on his abs. “but i’m no fool.” 

he inspects from a distance, keeping an even amount from her. 

“someone’s been here.” he digs into his an inside seam, and she balks at what she finds. 

“yeah.” there’s a silhouette she knows well, pointing the shiniest piece she’s ever seen. “—they didn’t leave.”

© copyright ciani jayde 2024

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[farfromsugafanfic]

Rebound | Chapter One: Cherry Picking

Genre: College AU, Basketball Captain!Yoongi, Basketball Captain!Reader, Idiots to Lovers, slight Rivals to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: break up, implied cheating, cursing/sexual language

Synopsis: You and Yoongi always catch each other on the rebound. Notes: The first chapter! Enjoy x

Series Masterlist | Next

vVv

You hated the days where the girl's basketball team was forced to practice with the boys. It meant that you'd have to deal with the smell of boy sweat, being blatantly checked out, and many of the guys making fools of themselves as they tried to show off. Not to mention, you didn't like giving away your plays to the boy's team. Sure, you all played for the same university, but with an even amount of championship wins, this year, the competition was between the boys and the girls and who would be able to bring home another title that year.

And, you'd caught the boy's captain, Min Yoongi watching you as you ran through plays with your team. However, it wasn't the glances like you were used to from the rest of his team, the ones that lingered over your body and left you feeling like you needed a shower. No, Yoongi was watching each step of your foot, each time you faked a pass, or threw a basket. He was learning from you, and that was completely unacceptable.

You and Yoongi has been playing together since you were in high school. Now, as seniors in college, it was both of yours last chance to earn a championship for your respective teams. You both had previous championship wins, but the boys and girls never won a championship in the same year. And, this year, it was going to be yours.

"Yah, Min Yoongi! Why don't you come down here and show off your own strategy instead of stealing mine?!"

"I wasn't stealing," he said. "I was admiring." A smirk crossed his face quickly, fading so quickly you weren't sure it had even been there at all. "But, fine. Come on boys, let's play some defense."

Yoongi called over his team and instructed his starters to get into their respective defensive positions. His eyebrow arched as he got into position in front of you, his stance low and his arms out. Yoongi was known for his defense, in fact, it had turned many games. If your offense could beat Min Yoongi, it could beat anybody.

"Captain on Captain," he said, his momentary smirk returning. "Let's make this interesting. Whoever loses has to stay and clean up. Both locker rooms."

You shrugged, you often stayed for hours after practice anyway, but the thought of having to clean the boy's locker room made you want to throw up. However, you agreed—not willing to back down—and waited for the coach to blow the whistle, signaling for you to begin.

You began dribbling the ball and headed towards the basket. Yoongi was right there with you, his chest less than an inch from you. You stopped and passed the ball to a teammate before booking it over to the side of the basket where she passed it back to you.

It was a fairly simple play--the ball only being passed between you two--unless for some reason either of you was otherwise occupied. It depended on your teammates moving around to keep their defenders busy while the two of you used the free space to your advantage.

Yoongi attempted to catch the pass, his fingertips connecting with the ball, but you managed to catch it and throw it up at the basket before he could get a grip. The ball bounced off the basket and rebounded in your direction.

Yoongi managed to catch the rebound and started dribbling down the court. You defended him, but he was faster than he looked. You managed to get in his face just as he shot the ball up towards the basket, but it didn't faze him and the ball sunk into the basket.

You cursed under your breath. You turned--attempting to retrieve the ball--and your ass rubbed against Yoongi's thigh and you could practically hear the smirk break out across his face.

The game continued fairly uneventfully. The boys were two points ahead due to a lucky three point shot. It was the last half of the final quarter and you had to do something. You carefully signaled to your team to do a play that involved passing the ball excessively before one of your teammates finally passes it back to you and you go for the three point shot. You could think of nothing sweeter than winning by one point.

The play went smoothly with the ball coming back to you. Yoongi had only left your side for a moment in an attempt to catch the pass back to you, but as he quickly discovered what you were planning, he lunged towards you. Attempting to stop the ball from its ascent, he had too much momentum and smacked right into you. The ball's ascent becoming much sharper and landing far short of the basket.

You--on the other hand--had fallen straight backwards. Luckily, your butt broke your fall and you rolled onto your side and curled into a ball, out of breath from the shock. You heard the whistle blown--indicating that Yoongi fouled you--and it brought you back to reality.

Everyone seemed to be asking if you were okay, in a flurry of questions that only made you feel dizzy. You simply offered a quick nod and made your way to the free throw line. You easily made the two free shots, tying up the game.

The whistle sounded. "Games over," the coach said. "Looks like the teams are pretty evenly matched." He nodded at you and Yoongi. He dismissed practice and you turned to look at Yoongi.

"So, I guess the bet's off? Since we tied? We'll each just clean our own?"

Yoongi shrugged. "I don't mind doing both. I didn't mean to hurt you."

You laughed. "I'm fine, Yoongi. You've seen me take worse falls."

"I know, it's just--I caused this one--"

"Well, if you really want to clean the girl's locker room, it's fine. Just text me first or something so I can make sure everyone's out."

vVv

You didn't register Yoongi's text as you sat underneath your office desk. Your legs pulled into your chest as you tried to steady your breaths. He had to have known you were in your office by now. He'd been at practice and was probably changing when he sent the simple text.

"I'm breaking up with you, Y/N."

You knew your now--ex-boyfriend had probably left already--probably already had another date lined up. God, you hoped it wasn't with one of the other girls on your team. Partially because of the awkwardness, but also, because every girl on your team deserved better than a boy who would break up through text.

You heard a hesitant knock on the door. You huddled down closer underneath your desk, hoping that if you could keep your sobs quiet enough, whoever it was would just go away.

"Anyone still in here?" you heard Yoongi ask, as he peeked into the empty locker in room. Your office was connected to the locker room, but the blinds on your window were closed and your door was closed. You pulled your legs as close as they could possibly get to your body and pressed your head into your knees, hoping Yoongi would clean and leave thinking simply that you'd left already.

You heard as he shuffled around the locker room picking up half drank water bottles and making sure all the locks were secure. Your sobs were building up in your chest and you feared you couldn't hold them back. You inhaled sharply, but the exhale came out shaky. You whimpered, trying to hold the tears back.

The nearly completely concrete room carried sound better than some music rooms and it was only a moment later the shuffling paused.

"Y/N?"

You stayed quiet, even forgetting to breath for a few moments. You weren't sure how he immediately knew it was you. Maybe it was because you were always known to stay after practice and do your homework or work on strategy, often not leaving until it was dark. Or, maybe you two had simply played long enough together he could tell you from the others on the team.

You phone vibrated, somehow reverberating off the walls. It was simply reminding you of Yoongi's unread text and you muttered a silent curse as you heard the shuffling stop once again.

"Y/N?" he asked again, this time approaching the door to your office.

You closed your eyes and tried not to notice how the light was suddenly blinding you, even with your eyes shut.

"Y/N, what are you doing down there?" he asked. "Wait, what happened?"

You opened your eyes and looked up at the boy who was crouched down in front of your desk and examining you with his frustratingly puppy like eyes.

"It's nothing," you said, crawling out from underneath your desk and leaning against it and crossing your arms. Yoongi followed you, standing up, but not leaving the room.

"It's not nothing," he said. "I haven't seen you cry this much since you broke your wrist at championships Freshman year."

"At least I made the shot though," you said, smiling for half a second before it faded.

"I-I didn't hurt you earlier, did I?"

You shook your head. "No, really, Yoongi, I'm fine. It's stupid."

Yoongi stood in silence, waiting for you to explain. He wasn't going to leave without an explanation or a fight, and you were too exhausted to argue with the boy. Normally, when you were grumpy, he was the first person you picked a fight with, but you hated him seeing you in your weakened state. And, you knew he would see through your attempts at trying to argue for what they were--trying to annoy him into leaving.

"Isn't Ji-yoo waiting for you?" you asked, your attempt at stalling causing him to sigh and release the tension in his shoulders. You knew mentioning his girlfriend was a sure fire way to piss him off, but the girl was sweet and a decent player. You honestly didn't want her to have to wait on your problems.

"Y/N, just tell me what happened. We've known each long enough. I'm not gonna tell any of the boys about this."

Your eyes shifted away from him and your hands gripped the desk, your knuckles turning white. You held back another sob that has built up during the conversation, feeling more pathetic than ever.

"Chan-woo broke up with me," you said. "He texted me a little before you did." The sob came out and you hid your face in your hands.

You felt Yoongi's body envelope yours. You immediately fell into his warmth, your face hiding in his black T-shirt. You could still smell his body wash and a small hint of a musky cologne. He'd obviously showered just after practice and you couldn't be more thankful as you took in his scent and you felt yourself relax against him and the desk.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft and deep. It was the voice he used when he pitied you. His arm tightened around your back and you propped your chin on the center of his chest. He looked down at you, his free hand coming up to carefully brush some of your still damp hair from your face. "I know we're not really friends, but I don't like to see you upset. What happened to the Y/N from high school? You were the one breaking hearts then."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully. "Like yours? Remember when you asked me to homecoming and I said no?" You dragged your fingertip over his chest and felt his gaze harden. Not maliciously, but enough to make you pause.

Your body tensed again under his gaze. His dark eyes looking at you in a way you couldn't describe. His gaze felt warm, but it was like sitting too close to a fire, the sparks began to burn.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I do remember. I also remember driving you home after you got stood up that night."

You pulled away, losing his warmth was nearly painful, but you wiped your eyes, the tears having stopped spilling. The sobs were no longer in your throat, but you could still feel where they sat.

"Oh yeah," you said. "I, uh, forgot about that."

"I know you're upset, but you deserve better. You know that, right?"

"No, its okay. I know. He was a jerk, anyway, and I really should've seen this coming. I always saw the way he looked at the other girls on the team. I don't really know why I'm so upset about it. I know I shouldn't be cause he was probably cheating on me anyway, but--"

Yoongi's lips cut yours off. It caught you off guard, but your hands seemed to naturally gravitate towards his freshly washed and still half damp hair and your legs spread allowing him to come closer. His hands anchored to the desk on either side of your hips. The kiss was short, but heated, and when he pulled away you felt yourself yearning for him to come back.

"Stop talking about him," Yoongi said. "It'll make you feel worse."

"Yoongi, what was that?"

"You were rambling."

You couldn't help but let out a girlish giggle at his excuse. Yoongi's eyes seemed to soften when you laughed, but his posture was still tense, his hands still resting on either side of you, and his body still so much closer than you two got outside of the court.

"I never liked the way he talked about you in the locker room," he said, his head lowering slightly. His gaze falling from yours.

"Mmm, is that right? How'd he talk about me?"

Yoongi seemed surprised at your response, but his gaze shot back to yours. It had darkened though, from a look of concern to one of need.

"All the things he wanted to do to you," he said, his voice becoming raspy and breathless. You noticed his gaze slipping downward, although you had no idea where.

"Like what?"

Yoongi's right hand moved from the desk and onto your thigh, pushing up your basketball shorts slightly. His fingertips brushed the edge of your panties, but he didn't attempt to go any further.

"He wanted to fuck you on the court. Right at half court."

"Is that all?"

"Well, he was more specific, but I'll spare you the details."

Yoongi's face was dangerously close to your own, your foreheads nearly colliding.

"Don't guys talk about that stuff all the time?"

"Yeah, but it was different."

"Why?"

Yoongi knew you were baiting him, but as his fingers began to slowly massage the skin of your thigh, he seemed to care less.

"Cause it was about you."

"What makes me so different, Min Yoongi?"

He didn't answer the hair on his forehead tickling your skin.

"Is it cause you've known me so long I've become like a sister to you?"

"No," he said.

"Is it cause you have your own fantasies about me?"

Again, he didn't say anything, but he bit his lip and let out a shallow grunt that seemed to be in affirmation. "Just cause your glances are subtle, Yoongi, doesn't mean I don't notice."

His glance was less than subtle coming to rest at your lips and finally meeting your eyes full of something primal.

"What do you want to do to me, Yoongi?"

His lips brushed against the skin on your neck—testing the waters—and when your neck lulled back allowing him full access. He was eager and immediately his tongue came into contact with your skin and made you shiver.

"I want to fuck you on this desk," he said.

"Then, do it." One of your hands returned to his hair, while the other played with the hem of his T-shirt. "And, don't spare me any of the details."

Taglist:

@limiworld @wobblewobble822 @wmyoons @sarcasticsweetlara

Add yourself to the taglist

[moccahobi]

The Creamed Pie

Summary:  What a gross bakery name you thought as you entered, too hungry to turn down the promise of food. Allosexuals were getting more and more brazen by the day but succubi were worse, even if they were ace. And somehow you were helping that ace succubus now.

Pairings: Seokjin (BTS) x Reader 

Rating: SFW (although I ask that because of the number of sexual jokes and comments, please just 18+ people read)

Warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of death

Genre: fluff, humor, angst, succubus au, slow burn

Word count: 7.9k

 The Creamed Pie

The cafe sign looked down at you with welcoming arms, steam and water puffing out from the name. And if it weren’t for your hunger, you might’ve looked over the bakery because of that name… you might not know much… but that was sexual. You barely even paid mind to how as you were about to give in and look up food nearby on your phone, such a tasty looking place came into view. 

It was too good to be true. 

Just a short walk from your new apartment was a cafe that could fuel you before work and fulfill your cafe loving mind on mellow days? It was a miracle and you could imagine the times you’d spend in here.

The cafe name though .... Were allosexuals ok? 

You laughed and shook your head, your growling stomach you in. Despite the name, the inside wasn't playing off of such sexy themes. 

In fact it was full of pastel colors and vibes. The tables were full of soft rainbows, each table and chair set a mix and match of all the colors. An accent wall of luscious ivy seemed to wave you over to settle into the couch right below it, full of plushies. There were even more plushies sitting on chairs and resting on the counters. It was an eclectic and interesting place that you could see becoming popular for its aesthetics off of social media… especially if they had those aesthetic bathrooms that people would spend twenty minutes in getting the perfect selfie.

The handsomest man in the world with a blinding smile rushed from the backspace, his smile wide and excited as he started fretting behind the counter. Pink oven mitts were barely off before he was shouting welcomes, his pastel blue apron dusted with flour that was sprinkling onto the counter. 

"What can I get for you ?" 

"An Iced americano, please." 

For the briefest second, a frown took over his face before he rushed to make it. After he finished he grabbed a muffin and plated it.

"Here you go."

"Uh. How much is it?"

"Oh! Shoot. Forgot about that. You all normally have registers, right?"

"What?"

"Nothing. This is on the house," The man flashed a large smile. "For being my first ... customer." 

You nodded, grabbed your stuff and sat down. He probably hadn't had customers because of the cafe name… Looking back over though, he didn’t even have a register.

Or… wait… there was one? 

It seemed fuzzy, barely there in your mind but the longer you looked at it, the more you were sure that there was and always had been a register there. You shivered and looked down at your order. Maybe you should of gotten a hot americano. 

Despite the off putting name (who thought of that name and approved it?), taste of the food was out of this world. Everything was bursting on your tastebuds and between the chewy fruit and a crunchy topping, the muffin was the best muffin you’d ever eaten. The owner knew what he was doing by giving you this on the house. You were groaning and vibrating with excitement with each bite. 

Half way through your muffin though you froze, the hair on the back of your neck sticking up as you turned to look at the counter. The man was staring with a big smirk on his face, his plump lips spread thin and teeth on display as he watched you eat.

Creepy.

His smile dropped and he quickly went to the backroom to do something. You deflated once he was gone and finished up your coffee before rushing out. Maybe the cafe wasn’t a place you needed to go to again. That man was creepy and unless you were able to figure out a schedule for other workers, you don’t know if you’d want to stay long enough to eat there.

The cafe stayed with you like a ghost and before long, you were trying to seek it out matter how again. No matter how badly you searched though, you couldn't find it. Somehow the cafe wasn’t in the same spot as last time and you felt a shiver as you thought back to the man. Something wasn’t right with him. His smile haunted almost you as much as the muffin did. Yet he seemed friendly too… just… off. 

The longer you thought about the cafe and him, the more you wanted to return (maybe with another person) to find out more about him and his cafe… if it managed to survive past a week.

It wasn't until you were caught by the rain on your way home from work that  you found it again. Its name was still the same  but the surrounding logo of food outlines made it look much more appealing and feel much less sexual. Gone were the water droplets and now there was a few different baked goods on it. Maybe the owner was upgrading his business to get more customers.

You rushed inside and stopped at the doorway to shake off the water, shivering as the cold stuck to you and the water refused to leave. During your move your umbrella broke and although you could use it if you kept your hand up to push it open, you didn’t want to do that… especially after working a long day. It was mindless of you to not get a new umbrella. 

"Oh! Y/n-ssi! You're shaking. Here's a towel! Let me prepare some tea." The same man as last time said after popping out from the back room. You could hear him clamor around and before long you found yourself ushered to one of the cushioned chairs and wrapped up in a warm towel. 

It wasn't until he came back with a hot cup of tea that you processed what he said, another shiver running through you at the realization. 

"How did you know my name?" You asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Your credit card shows it on the chit system."

"You gave me my stuff on the house."

He froze before collapsing in the seat. across from you with a dramatic sigh, "Acting human is hard. Other succubi don't have this challenge!"

"What?"

"Oh shit. Be not afraid." He said, waving his hands around as if to try to put a spell on you.

What the fuck? 

This can’t be real!

“It’s real, Y/n-ssi.” 

…

No one else was in the cafe… you should play along. There was no telling what he might do to you if he thinks you didn’t believe him. 

"So… You're a succubus? Well I hate to break it to you, you won't get any food from me."

"Oh on the contrary. Your first visit here was delectable."

"How! I'm ace! you feed on orgasms! Omo! The name makes sense now." You said, trying to think of anything to keep him talking. 

"I'm ace too. And succubi feeds off of desire. Not orgasms."

"You're an ace succubus?" You asked, laughter rising from you at the contradiction. This man was pulling shit out of nowhere at his point. 

"Hey! I hear your thoughts," The man said as he laughed, "Just because common media shows us as sex hungry demons doesn't always mean we are. And I am telling the truth. I don’t know how I can prove that to you but I am. I won’t hurt you if you don’t believe me. You don’t have to worry about that." 

You froze. Any self aware man who--

“Knew about the struggles people have with strangers would be able to realize you’re worried about your safety?” He said, giving you a flat look.

Your mouth was hanging open as you gaped for something to think of… Were you actually talking to a demon? How was that even possible? The whole thing felt surreal but the same cafe showed up in two different spots ... he knew your name. No one else was here. He was unrealistically handsome. His food was unimaginably tasty.

"If you're trying to live like a human, you're failing."

"Care to teach me?" He asked and despite the suggestiveness of his words, when he looked up at you, you saw desperation and concern, “I only have a few more months to give this a try before they bring me back to hell and try to get me to do the usual succubi business of sex dreams and,” He shivered, “I can’t do that. I can’t go back.”

His anxiety was something you felt so viscerally. All the moments of people not believing your sexuality, questioning your jokes and actions when they didn’t fit into the stereotype of what an ace person should look like, the times people thought they could change you… you knew his pain and his anxiety. Maybe not as extreme as him if he was a succubus but you knew it. 

“Yeah. I’ll help. But I will have you know, I do not like how you went to food. I get you want to do something different than sex but… food? It’s the oldest ace stereotype in the book! ” 

He blinked slowly. 

“What?” 

“Media always portrays ace people as replacing sexual urges with food.” 

The man started laughing, slapping his knee as rolled around in the chair, “It sounds to me like they try to understand their desires by putting others through a filter of their understanding. But food is one of the next biggest desires so I am not changing it. I’ve gotten enough desire from those who’ve visited already. Only a little though. Almost not enough. And so many other desires offer much less. But you’ll help me, Y/n-ssi?” 

You sighed, “Yeah. I will… What’s your name?” 

“Ah! I almost forgot you all can’t read thoughts. It’s Seokjin. Kim Seokjin. Nice to meet you. I hope you’ll help me stay on earth with this job...” 

Seokjin groaned and threw a damp washcloth at you. Stupid demons have good aim it seemed because it hit your book, forcing it out of your hands, “I can’t believe you’re reading that.” 

You shrugged and grabbed your book, “I’ll read sex scenes if the rest of the book is good. Besides, I mostly read what they say and skim the rest.” 

“I can literally hear you reading each sentence.” He said and when you looked over at him, his ears were bright red and a frown was twisting his face. 

“Would you like me to stop reading it for now? I have some other books I can read while you can hear my thoughts.” 

He sighed and nodded, “I’d appreciate that. I can’t believe that you convinced me to buy an actual shop! Now I have to be in the shop more.” 

You laughed as Seokjin whined, “You won’t get tons if you only target people who are desperate for food! You can still give them stuff on the house but now you’ll get more people with small amounts of desire as well.” 

He groaned and threw his arms in the air like a petulant child and you were once again struck by the fact that he was a demon. A succubus. How the hell was this stuff real? How had you been roped into helping an ace succubus? It explained so much and yet so little about Seokjin. His looks, his flirty nature… but his humor? And his past? And his personality? Still so much was unknown to you and something deep in you was pushing you to learn more.

“I’m glad I’m able to still,” He twirled his hand, a beautifully decorated cake in an ornate cake display shimmering into view and telling you that it’d always been there, "I wouldn’t be able to own an actual shop if it weren’t for this.” 

That was still something you’d need to get used to. He’d materialized so much around you, made it real and with a past in your mind. The world of magic that you’d been thrown in was overwhelming. 

Whether or not Seokjin heard your inner monologue, he didn’t say, instead going about and cleaning tables. You watched from your corner seat, not yet gathering energy to open your phone and find a new book to read. 

The ding from the door pulled you to your phone as you let Seokjin tend to his client. Business in the evening was slow for him and that’s when you enjoyed coming in to rest and help him navigate the human world. The man refused to get an apartment or home despite claiming he wasn’t going to hell to sleep. Where he slept, you didn’t know and that worried you only a little more than his incessant winking when he greeted new customers. And those occasional smirks he gave you when he was feeding off of you… well you were fairly positive he was feeding off of you. 

You shivered and tried to bury yourself into your phone. 

The next time you came over, Seokjin was struggling with his taxes, screaming at a computer that has always been behind the counter and shaking his head.

“You’re scaring customers away.” You said flatly as you entered, setting your work bag down on your seat. 

“The shop is closed.” 

You didn’t even jump as the shop sign flipped over to closed and Seokjin went back to yelling about taxes and eating the rich. A laugh left you as you watched him, his veins popping as he worked up a sweat with each hit of the computer. 

“Do you want help?” 

“No. I am going to make the landlord vanish.” 

“Your contract literally had a clause that if the landlord died, his kids would get the place and they might force you out. Nothing will stop the onslaught of taxes, Seokjin.” 

He sighed, “Silly humans and their useless taxes. What even is the use of business taxes?”

“I am the last person who’d know. I don’t do taxes nor do I own a business but I am sure the internet could tell you.” 

Seokjin threw himself into the chair across from you and your heart leapt out of your throat as his chair wobbled dangerously before finally settling down. He wailed dramatically and grabbed your hands, warmth spreading from his touch as he complained about taxes more and more. 

You laughed and shook your head again, grabbing a book from your bag and settling into your seat, “Have you eaten enough desire today?” 

He sighed, “No… Especially with this frustration, I am so hungry.”

You should open your shop again then.

“Why would I when my favorite customer is here, though?” You looked up, heat rising to your cheeks as he sent you a wink.

What did this man have in store?

“Want to try the latest treat I’ve made! It’s a decadent lavender and lemon cupcake!” Seokjin was already up and about before you could say anything, his focus on making the cupcake look pretty on the plate. As he walked over, you noticed how he stuck his tongue out in focus. He was a cutie, you’ll give him that. 

Before you could even blink there was a steaming mug of tea next to the cupcake as well and he watched you expectantly as you set down your book and took a sip.

“Ohhh. A chocolate tea with this is really smart.” You said, trying to focus on the flavor and not at how excitedly he was looking at you. It made you shy and yet at this point in knowing Seokjin, you couldn’t help but be edenred at how excited he got for you to try his food. 

You tried to tell yourself that it was just for the desire he’d get from you but there was always a small voice in your mind telling you differently. Gingerly taking the cupcake, you unwrapped it and broke off the bottom half to put on top. 

Seokjin groaned, “Can you not butcher cupcakes like that again?!” 

“What! It’s a smart way to eat a cupcake and reduce mess!” 

“It’s blasphemy!”

“Shouldn’t you like it more then?” You asked, silencing Seokjin with a bite of his cupcake.

Damn it. 

Seokjin made good food. 

Begrudgingly, you gave into the wonder that was the cupcake. It wasn’t too sweet, the tart lemon cutting through the sugar and allowing the lavender to hang in the back of your mouth for longer. And the frosting? A soft and tart cream that melted on your tongue, allowing the spongy cake to be eaten smoothly and softly. 

Seokjin was smirking at you as you ate and damn it, he looked good. 

You set the cupcake down and drank more of the tea, thankful for the change in flavor. 

“It’s good.”

“I’m glad. I am feeling much better now myself.” 

You scoffed and looked away as you tried to calm down your heart. This man would be the death of you. 

Seokjin shook his head at a customer, a pout on his face as he handed over her food and drink. She didn’t seem phased though, waving bye with a smile and sitting down close to you. It wasn’t common to have people come in shortly after you arrived in the evening, the evening rush often starting closer to eight pm with students cramming for the next day. Yet here was someone who’d visited a few times before and was now fluttering her eyelashes at Seokjin as he cleaned up. 

You chuckled into your computer as you watched him shy away, glaring at the counter that he was cleaning as she watched him intently. Maybe he was embarrassed by her thoughts. That made you laugh. The man was so handsome and whenever his forehead made an appearance (instead of his common bowl cut) people seemed to flirt with him more than normal… which was to say about every customer was more friendly with him. 

Poor guy. 

Seokjin glared at you, his nostrils flaring as he dramatically went into the back room. 

The other customer deflated, turning to her food and phone as she settled in for the meal. You found yourself deflating as well, turning to focus more on your work. Normally you were good at enforcing a work-life balance but when the deadline for the project you’re heading is nearing and everyone else on your team is enforcing a healthy work-life balance, it was on you to pick up the slack. In the past, they were bad about working overtime without pay even when there wasn’t much to do so you were proud of your teammates. Truly… but the work wouldn’t complete itself. 

The next time you looked up, it was because Seokjin had placed a big sandwich, bursting with luscious vegetables and egg salad on your table. A cup of tea that had always been there also greeting you. Your heart fluttered as you thanked him and watched as he sat down with a big sigh. 

“I am so tired from standing all day, Y/n-ah! Why do people do this?” He said with a groan, rolling his feet under the table without a care for your shins he was beating. 

You shrugged, “Put a chair back there then.” 

“That’s really smart!” 

“Thank you.”

“What are you working on? I don’t normally see you with your computer out.” He asked, leaning over the table and shoving his face near your computer screen. As if he could possibly read the document upside down.

Could succubi?

“No. I am too tired to go around. Besides I don’t know what it would say upright anyways.” 

You nodded. It was always surreal when he read your thoughts but you were getting more used to it as you spent more time with him. 

“Please eat by the way.”

Is he really hungry still? It was Monday and every Monday evening he bragged about how stuffed he was because of the worker rush. 

“I know you’ve not eaten since this morning. Silly, silly, silly. Don’t overwork yourself.” He said, gently flicking your forehead. 

You didn’t know if you believed him. 

You looked over at the woman who was finishing her food… she was still here so you couldn’t change the subject to something succubus related… like how he always managed to have such a rush or how he still targeted people whose desires were strong and not in the area.

“Speak for yourself. You are open every day.” 

His brows furrowed, “Is that not normal?” 

“Are you a big corporation who goes through workers like wheat in a mill and refuses to close?” 

He pouted and you felt the urge to coo, “I’m not a big corporation who is mean to workers. Are those? I wonder who--” 

He stopped and looked at the lady eating. Were inhumane capitalist systems created in hell?

“From my understanding they’re human.” 

You sighed, “Either way. Working every day, with the hours you work isn’t common.” 

“Oh. I should close some days then. Would you want to do something with me those days?” His eyes lit up and you knew you couldn’t say no to him. 

“Sure. That’d be fun! And I can help you find some other people you can spend time with.” 

His brows furrowed once again, “But I like spending time with you. Why would I need others.” 

Damn it. 

Seokjin wasn’t good for your heart. 

“Y/n! Y/n! I found this awesome song! Cake!” Seokjin was shouting excitedly, waving around his phone as he bound towards you, blaring an overtly sexual song and blissfully unaware of the many angry people looking at him. 

“P-Please! Quiet the song!” You said, trying to take his phone as he pouted and kept it away.

CAKE! ON MY BODY! CAKE! PUT IT ON MY BODY!

“But it perfectly encapsulates my feelings about cake!” He said with a pout, wiggling around in a poor attempt to dance.

After way too long of him dancing and avoiding your grasp, you were finally able to get him to sit down and silence the song, your whole body bright with embarrassment. 

“Seokjin… you can’t play a song like that in public. Even if you feel like it fits your feelings about a food. It’s so sexual.” 

“What? How?” 

“Oh dear. How do you have your bakery named The Creamed Pie and not know what cake is?” You wanted to cry at having to explain this to a grown ass man… a succubus. 

“What about the Creamed Pie? Why are you bringing my love into this! It’s a beautiful name” 

“Oh dear.” You shook your head, “It’s a term for a… sex action.”

“O-Omo! What? I had no idea! It fits so well! And cake?” 

“Ass.” 

“What?! No wonder my friends laughed when I told them what my bakery was named and my favorite song! I know! I will change the bakery name! Double Stuffed is another name I was considering.”

You facepalmed.

“Do succubi naturally make innuendos?” 

“What?!” 

“Just keep the Creamed Pie. It’s stuck at this point.” You said with a sigh, shaking your head as you looked at Seokjin fondly. 

The man was getting so much better at blending into the human world. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was human. But you knew better so you could guard your heart better. He was an immortal demon and you were a human teaching him how to act human. 

You watched as he jumped up excitedly to greet a mutual friend of yours who worked at a pet shelter. Hoseok was being pulled excitedly by a new puppy who had to stay with the vet for the night. Laughter bubbled out of you as you watched the two interact, Seokjin throwing his whole body into snuggling the dog while the two interacted. Helping him get into different communities to make friends had been beneficial to you. Sure you had a few friends from work but that was about it, the move removed you from most of your previous friends after all. Seokjin got you into shelter work, a bookclub, a gardening club full of sweet old ladies. He’d made your world better by being in it. 

How long would you be able to have Seokjin in your life before he’d have to move to keep his image up? 

Would he last ten years before people started to notice he didn’t age? 

You sighed, not wanting to get up and interact yet. 

These thoughts of Seokjin’s transience had been bogging you down more and more. Sure he could live here for a long time… but would it be enough for you? He’s someone you want in your life for… as long as you live. Ignoring the flutters that have been occurring more frequently, he’s made your life so bright and you didn’t want it to end. 

You hoped that Seokjin didn’t sense this from you. Aside from the embarrassment of these thoughts that he might hear, you imagined that your want to keep him in your life could feed him almost as much as his food.

Seokjin was looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

You shivered. 

Maybe he already knew. 

With a heavy sigh, you got up. The walk to Hoseok and Seokjin was full of trying to wipe your mind of the thoughts and the gloom. Think about puppies.

“You’re tired, Y/n. Take a nap.” Seokjin said with a sigh, taking a now empty plate from your table. 

“Huh? I’ll be ok. I need to work on a bit more.” You said, waving him off as you continued to type away on your computer. A possible new job was opening in your work and you had to finish the application soon.

The laptop slowly closed on your hands, Seokjin’s frowning face greeting you. There was a blanket and a pillow on your table, the two plush and calling to you stronger than this application was. Was this succubus magic? 

Seokjin sighed, “You won’t get the job if you’re burnt out. Take a short nap. I’ll wake you up in thirty minutes,” He must’ve seen something in your eyes because all too soon he was crossing his arms and sitting across from you, “I will bar you from the bakery as well. The door takes people to where they most desire but I can make it so it’ll take you to where you’re dreading.”

“The door can do that?” You asked, looking at the door with a new suspicion. You guessed it made sense that the door had some magic too since he could bring people in from all over the area who were desiring food. 

“I am not changing the topic to educate you on one of the many things I’ve learned over my lifetime. Nap.” 

“I’m not even that sleepy.” You said, but as you looked back at the door, you knew that you didn’t want to risk no longer being able to see this place. With a glare and a few curses for Seokjin, you grabbed the pillow and blanket, spreading out on the couch and trying to get comfortable.

Sleep didn’t come to you easily though. Seokjin was working still and despite your mind feeling oddly quiet, you couldn’t get comfortable. It was all made worse when Seokjin came over and adjusted the blanket, his hand removing hair from your face gingerly. He sighed what felt like a thousand unspoken words before finally going back to work. 

But the ghost of his kindness didn’t leave you. Not the rest of that day. Not during your time at the pet shelter. Not at work. Not during book club. 

You shouldn’t be so flustered by a friend’s action. You’d probably do something similar if his hair was in his eyes. It was just a caring thing to do.

Plus, the two of you talk about being ace all the time… but not romance. He still turns down every flirty customer… he could be aeromantic. Or not interested in humans. If you were an all powerful and eternal demon, you don’t think humans would appeal to you. 

His touch haunted you as you watched as Jimin collapsed into Seokjin with laughter, Hoseok and Namjoon clinging to him at some joke that they’d told. It was barely even funny (if only you’d been listening). Physical touch has always been something you felt neutral about or blatantly shied away from and generally it didn’t affect you when others were able to so freely be physically affectionate. It was a ghost of a barrier keeping you minimally stimulated that you rarely ever overcame and no one else seemed to try to broach. There were some family members and childhood friends who you hugged or snuggled, but touch had never been something that you wanted or needed. Bodies were warm and quick to getting damp. You cringed at how Seokjin was attacked with affection and yet another part of you longed for that kind of affection from Seokjin. 

To hug. To be caught by him. To be able to lean on him. To hold hands. 

Jimin, Hoseok, and Namjoon never had a challenge with it. 

Seokjin accepted it willingly… but you struggled to broach that. 

Speak of the demon… Seokjin looked over at you, welcoming you closer on the picnic mat, his hands pointing to some cold fruits that had always been part of the picnic. 

You leaned over and grabbed something to munch on with a smile, Jimin launching on you with his next roll of laughter. A cringe rolled through you but you didn’t push him off, his heaving chest tickling you into laughing as well. 

The guys had been swapping strange customer stories for the past hour. It had urged them up the mountain they hiked and been the background noise of the picnic setup. Despite not working at a customer service facing job, you enjoyed the stories and how they reacted. Like Jimin had someone who wanted white black eyed susans in their bouquet… which didn’t exist. They meant daisies… but they refused to believe they weren’t black eyed susans. It didn’t take Jimin too long to convince them that white black eyed susans were super rare and upcharge the poor person on the common flower.  

“You’re so devious!” Seokjin said, quieting his laughter with some of the fruit and watching as others around started to eat. 

“Nuh uh! The dude was being really rude and I tried to explain it to him for over fifteen minutes. If he wants to think he got something special, let him. He came in wanting to spend more than he needed to anyways.” Jimin said with a hum.

Namjoon shrugged, “Here’s hoping he doesn’t find out ever. Hyung, this fruit is so good! Probably the best I’ve ever had.” 

“Thank you!” Seokjin said, smiling broadly and winking at you. 

Jimin giggled and gave you a look and you tried to shake it off. Seokjin winked often and this was about your little inside secret. They didn’t know he was a succubus or that he was feeding off of them as they are this fruit… or that he’ll live forever and eventually leave everyone here behind. 

Seokjin looked into the woods around everyone as Hoseok took control of the conversation. He was talking about a tragic vet case he worked recently… which was as sad as your thoughts were.

“Why do you keep thinking about me leaving?” Seokjin asked as everyone started hiking back to the parking lot. He’d fallen behind with you and was speaking quietly as if he was worried about others hearing. 

Probably because this got to his demonic ways… which they didn’t know. 

You shrugged, “You can’t stay here forever. You’re immortal. Sooner or later people will realize that you’ve not aged a day and to keep eating desire you'll need to move. I’ve seen movies and read books about this.”

“You’re acting nonchalant but I can tell how much it’s hurting you. You’ve grown so distant.” 

The trail was getting smaller and to continue talking and walking next to each other, your shoulders bumped together repeatedly. His warmth was welcome. 

“I like you in my life.”

“And I’m in your life right now.” 

“But for how long?” You asked, looking over at him with a glare. 

“I don’t know. It’s not like I can’t figure out how to stay with you forever.”

“Seokjin. I don’t live forever. You do.” 

“I don’t have to.” He said, untold words swimming in his eyes at that. 

Before you could continue though, the parking lot came into view and Jimin was urging Seokjin into his car. You were once again alone with too many thoughts bogging you down.

Damn it, Seokjin. 

You watched the back door swing open, two people sauntering into the bakery who you’d never seen before. Seokjin hadn’t talked about hiring people to work here and that was something the two of you talked about often. One of them made their way over to you, tattoos on full display as he dusted off his jacket and gave you a once over. 

“Come here often?” He asked in the worst pickup line ever. It took physical strength not to cringe and turn back to your book. 

“No.” 

“That’s good to know. Want to come over to my place after?” 

“Jungkook! What in the world are you doing?” Seokjin’s loud voice made the man, Jungkook, stand on edge. His eyes were wide and face pale. 

“That is no way to talk to…” He looked over at you before looking at Seokjin again, the two entering a staring contest that could rival battles. 

Was Jungkook a succubi? 

You looked over at the other man, tall and lanky but dressed to the nines. They practically walked out of romantic dramas. Why were demons so bad at blending into the human world? 

The other man started laughing wildly, Jungkook and Seokjin whipping around to looking at him, “S-Sorry. This human… they have such hilarious thoughts! I can’t tell if they’re insults or not.” 

“Yes. When I first moved in they had a lot of comments about my shop’s name. Still can’t quite tell if they were meant to be positive or negative.” Seokjin said, not even sparing you a glance as he sized up the other demon. 

“They were negative.” You said and immediately regretted it as Jungkook whirled on you once again sizing you up and giving you one of the worst smolders you’d ever seen in your life. What a disgrace to Flynn Rider.

“Hey! I will have you know that my shoulders are amazing! Wait-- Why aren’t you affected by it?” The poor man looked so confused and sad that you weren’t falling at his feet.

Seokjin coughed and Jungkook and the other demon’s attention was brought to you once again, “What are you two doing here?” 

“We wanted to visit you. Especially with the current whispers we’ve heard down below.” The other man said, sitting down in a chair by you and taking a sip of tea that had always been there, waiting for him. 

“I wanted to try your food! I’ve heard it’s really good!” Jungkook said, “And Taehyung said that we should have a serious chat with you about giving up immortality.” 

Taehyung slapped Jungkook’s arm and shot you a look. 

Your eyes shot up as thoughts started rapid firing in your mind. Why would Seokjin give up immortality? 

“Y/n, I think you should leave for now.” Seokjin said, not taking his eyes off of Taehyung and Jungkook.

“But they seem like fun! Don’t you want to have fun, Y/n?” Jungkook asked, sending you a wink.

A growl tore you from Jungkook’s gaze, quickly making you pack up your things, “Seokjin’s right. I should get going. Good luck with the conversation, buddy.” You said, not wanting to give space for anyone to speak as you raced out of the cafe. 

To your shock, exiting the cafe led right to your apartment door. How in the world did that happen? 

The next time you saw Seokjin, he looked sickly and tired and was moving around the shop with half the energy and excitement that he normally had. He still tried to put on a smile for customers who came in and any time you opened your mouth to say something he glared at you. He wasn’t wanting you to bring up what was happening to him but you worried nonetheless.

Do demons get sick? 

Is it possible for him to not be getting enough desire? 

If so… you wished you could give him all your desire. Anything to keep him healthy and here with you. 

Seokjin was so tired that he sat down at multiple points. It was during one time when he was resting his head against a table that you got up, determined to help him somehow. You moved behind the counter and started to make him a cup of tea. 

Except… this man didn’t have any mugs. 

You sighed and next thing you knew, a mug was greeting you. It had always been there. Looking up, you saw Seokjin looking at you from the table, his head turned to rest and watch what you did. He winked but didn’t do much else. Quickly you made the tea and grabbed one of the display sweets. It wasn’t much and Seokjin likely had something similar all the time but it was the most you could do without talking about whatever was going on. Before bringing the stuff to him, you went to the door and flipped the sign to closed. Seokjin wasn’t in a place to serve people right now. 

You sat across from him, cringing as he struggled to get up and slowly sipped his tea. The cafe was filled with the sounds of him slowly eating and drinking, the man a loud slurper and chewer. Probably his one flaw.

“Hey! I am flawless!” He shouted, crumbs flying across the table.

“I don’t know about that.” You said, “Noisy eaters can be a big deal for some people. Can trigger main receptors in some!” 

He scoffed, “Well not you.” 

You shrugged, “No. But I don’t like it much still.” 

He huffed but started to eat with less noise, “I will not change my slurping. It’s how you aerate the hot drink and cool it down. I don’t want to burn my tongue.” 

“Didn’t know demons could.” 

Seokjin stayed silent at that. 

What did Jungkook and Taehyung talk about? What was happening to Seokjin? 

He glared at you. 

Puppies. Think about puppies. 

“You think about puppies a lot. Do I remind you of them?” He asked, his cheeks filled with food and eyes playful. 

“Hmmm. I think you remind me more of chipmunks or hamsters. But I like puppies! They’re cute.” You said with a laugh, half wanting to grab your phone and show him some pictures or videos of puppies. 

“What about chipmunks and hamsters? No love for them? They live a short time, is that why?” 

“I like them.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded, “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to see them when I do. Their life span isn’t a worry either. They might only be around for a short period of my life, but their owners… and I when I see them, love them for their whole life. Their life is full of love. Should be.” 

Seokjin looked at his tea and nodded.

“You should make your way home early tonight,” Seokjin started, “I think it’s going to rain soon.” 

His eyes were watery when you finally left. 

Hoseok and Jimin could tell there was something up with Seokjin… they’d planned a small gathering and while Seokjin didn’t say anything, with only four people there, the tension was palpable. They were carrying the conversation and your worry for Seokjin only allowed for you to add in every once in a while. The chatter of the bar that you’d gathered at was practically screaming into your conversations. When he excused himself for the bathroom but left through the front, you followed.

“Seokjin. Are you ok?” 

He jumped, his hands rising up to his face as he whirled on you, eyes wide, “Why are you out here? You should be inside having fun.”

Shaking your head, you came closer, “I wasn’t having fun before. It’s no fun when I’m worried about you. What’s up? I’m here for you.”

“The lights are up.” He said, his back hitting the wall as he sank to his knees.” 

You grimaced. You’ll tell him about not touching the outdoor walls of buildings, especially bars, “I love your comedy but now isn’t the time. I want to help you. Do you need food? I can… I can give you desire.” 

“Bars are rife with desire… I don’t,” he sighed and shook his head, “I’m feeding fine. It’s… this change is taking so much out of me. I’m exhausted. Change is hard.” 

“This chan-” His immortality.

Seokjin didn’t look at you but you felt tears well up as he started talking more, “Jungkook and Taehyung told me the risks… and I still decided that…” 

You grabbed his hand, your heart in your throat, “What are the risks, Seokjin?”

He squeezed your hand, pulling you down to squat next to him and despite the fact that your shirt likely had piss on it now, you wanted to be closer. The warmth of his hand and heat from his shoulder wasn’t enough. You didn’t move and he didn’t speak. 

The hustle and bustle of the bar filled the tension like air to a black void and like a black void, nothing satiated the tension. 

“I don’t know how long I have left on earth.” 

“Do you have to return to hell?” 

He shook his head.

“Fuck. Seokjin, what will happen?”

“If I’m not strong enough to not live with immortality?” He sighed and leaned his head on your shoulder but you couldn’t find any comfort in his warmth, “I guess my life will be like a hamster. Short but full of your love.” 

Tears were fighting their way out of your tear ducts, “S-Seokjin. Wh… Don’t…” 

“Would you run The Creamed Pie when I’m gone.” 

You scoffed, tears getting into your mouth, “Aside from the fact that I have a job and hate the name--” 

“It’s grown on you.” 

“I’m not done, idiot.  You’re talking like you won’t make it. Don’t talk like that.” 

“Well… it’s--”

“There you two are!” Hoseok shouted, his eyes not yet adjusted to being out of the bar, “Get off of that piss stained wall and come back inside!” 

Seokjin’s cafe disappeared. 

It’s been weeks since you, Hoseok, or Jimin have seen him. 

You had to take days off when you realized what had likely happened. 

Damn it, Seokjin.

He didn’t even say goodbye. 

You’d been crying your eyes out for hours at the realization. He was gone. You’d never see him again. The light that he brought into your life was gone. You were alone in your isolation, your heart breaking loudly in the silence of your apartment. 

On day three of your crying, you got a knock at your door. Probably your neighbor wanting to complain about the noise again. Stealing up your energy, you hobbled over and prepared for her to berate you. 

You looked through the peephole. 

Seokjin. 

For a second you had the strong image of opening the door and closing it on his face. But you were frozen, unable to move as a thousand thoughts rushed through your mind all too fast and jumbled to even process.

He was alive. 

“I know you’re there. I can hear your thoughts. Please open up.” He shouted, knocking on the door once again. 

You couldn’t face him though. He… you’d been grieving him. The loss of a friend and someone you loved. How could you just… 

“Please? I missed you.” 

If you weren’t dehydrated, you’d be crying. 

“Don’t cry! Please let me in? I have so much to tell you.” 

“LET THE DAMN MAN IN! I AM TRYING TO NAP.” A neighbor shouted and you finally found yourself moving, opening the door with shaky hands. 

A warm embrace was wrapping around you before you knew it. Seokjin’s soft arms and firm hug holding you up as you lost your strength once again. He was cooing for you, rubbing your hair. For once, physical touch felt like a wash of warmth. Slightly too warm, yes, but it was filling a deep crave in your body that had never been there before Seokjin. 

He practically carried you to your living space and set you down on the couch before going off to the kitchen to get something. 

“No wonder you came to the cafe so much. This kitchen is really underdeveloped.” He said as he clattered around, opening cabinets and drawers. 

You watched, open mouthed as your brain tried to process the man who was in front of you. He was glowing more than you think he had before, more youthful and handsome than he was before if that was even possible. There was a slowness to his actions that you didn’t remember being there before but that could have also been your shock of seeing him again. 

“You’re here.” You finally manage to say when he sets a cup of water down in front of you. 

“I’m here. Mortal.” 

“Mortal.” 

“Yeah. I… I didn’t say this before,” He started, grabbing one of your hands and forcing the water into it before grabbing your other hand, “I… I couldn’t stay immortal. Not… I can’t see my life without you.” 

“So you risked me not having you in my life? Seokjin, I grieved for you like you were dead. I-” Your voice gave out and you saw tears bud in Seokjin’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“How could you!” You gripped his hand tight, shaking it as you heaved, no tears coming, “I grieved for you! Seokjin I- I loved you and I lost you.”

“I’m back! And I will never leave you. I love you too.” 

You shook your head, “I grieved for you, Seokjin. I need time. I can’t. I can’t disregard my upset because you’re back.” 

He nodded, “I understand. I’ll be at the cafe when you’re ready. Is… is there anything I can do to help you right now?” 

“Get out.” 

A week later, full of Hoseok and Jimin pestering you, you walked into The Creamed Pie. You didn’t need a phone to direct you where to go after visiting it for so long but you didn’t even need to take ten steps to get there. Its door right outside your apartment, where it had been for the whole week. The fresh smell of baked bread hit your nose before the warm hug of Seokjin.

“I missed you so much.”

He was ushering you inside with a bright smile, the closed sign flipping over as the two of you sat down. Seokjin refused to leave you, tea and a sandwich appearing on your table. They’d always been there and you savored each bite. Their wonder was miniscule in comparison to being next to Seokjin again.

“Thank you.” 

“For?”

“Returning to me.” 

You grabbed his hand, bringing it over your shoulder as you leaned into him, “The cafe was always with me.”

[kimthwariru]

Like the wind

pairing: Taehyung x reader

(+Jungkook)

genre: smut, enemies to lovers, angst, collage au, rich kid!Taehyung

Masterpost

Chapter 3: flashbacks

You were used to having cold showers by now. You’d first tried it when you’d read on some health site that it was supposed to help with skin and stress. You didn’t know about the skin part, but you truly felt way more relaxed when you showered with cold water. You’d get so distracted with how cold it was, that there was no time to overthink—a task you often did while showering. Something you truly did not need right now.

Because there was a list of questions in your head waiting to be checked out. Questions you had no answers to, and would probably never get.

Why was Kim Taehyung such an asshole?

Why did he act the way he did?

Why did he fuck you over like that?

How can someone place a bet over who they’re fucking?

That dude was disgusting, but what was worse was the fact that, for mere moments, you’d fallen for his lies. You thought that maybe, there was something there. That maybe that boy you’d met years ago was starting to resurface.

But no. Kim Taehyung was a fucking monster who didn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own.

Frustration clawed at your chest as you closed your eyes under the ice cold water.

Your mind travels to Marloom 4 years ago, a port near Outfield where fishermen and boat crew mostly lived. It was probably the poorest region outside the wall, which was why you were so surprised when you saw Taehyung there, sitting at the edge of the deck, his bare feet brushing along the waves. He was like a picture.

“y/n!” He’d called out “check this out” he’d showed you a book you’d been trying to get your hands on forever which unfortunately, was limited edition and way out of your budget.

“No way!!” You smiled “How did you even manage to get that?”

He shrugged his shoulders “The publishing company works for my dad” he handed it to you “it’s yours”

“You’re kidding!?”

“No, take it. Read it and tell me if it’s worth the trouble.”

“Of course I will. Thanks, Tae”

He smiled at that, but his expression quickly faded into a sad grimace “Hey, are you alright? What are you doing in Marloom anyway?”

“I don’t feel lonely here. Local folks don’t even recognize my face, to them I am just a teenager, not Kim Taehyung, so they will scold me for chasing ducks, yell when I steal the ropes to climb some tree… there’s even an old lady that gives me these vanilla cookies every Sunday, somehow they make me feel less lonely”

You’d basically forgotten that Kim Taehyung was this well known prince of Hashfield that would take his father’s place one day. His face would feature in many magazines. ‘Prince Charming’ was one of the many nicknames given to him by the media, but, to you, he’d always been Tae.

“Did I tell you about the novella I’ve been reading?” You tried to change the subject the minute you saw his eyes turning sad. Today would’ve been a month since his mother had left without even saying goodbye, or where she was going.

“About the knight who doesn’t know whether to speak or die.? I think you told me already.”

Obviously you had mentioned it and forgotten. “Yes.”

“Well, does he or doesn’t he?”

A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess. And she too is in love with him. Though she seems not to be entirely aware of it.

Despite the friendship the blossoms between them or perhaps because of that very friendship, the young knight finds himself so humbled and speechless

He knows they are from two different worlds. The princess was to marry soon, and he’d be serving the new king until the day he died.

So, despite his feelings, he's totally unable to bring up the subject of his love.

Till one day he asks the princess point blank

Is it better to speak or to die?

“Better to speak, she said. But she’s on her guard. She senses a trap somewhere.” You replied

“So, does he speak?”

“No, he fudges.”

“Figures. People never say what they truly feel”

“If you speak, you risk rejection, or worse. The knight could be exiled from the kingdom. . .But if you don't speak, then you keep the words inside you, you essentially kill them, let them die with you, and you risk nothing. Which one would you choose?”

His honey eyes reached yours and for a second you’d forgotten your name. “I’m not sure which would be more suitable…”

He made a pause.

“To expose your depth and your darkness, to expose the most personal parts of yourself? To present yourself to the world with your skin flipped inside out? Or to keep a fire bubbling within, never unburdening yourself by letting go of the passionate energy pounding in your lungs? To suffocate, never releasing the words from your throat. To die with a legacy or to have your beliefs, mind, thoughts remain unknown, to let your mind leave with your body. A well known library book or a diary that has never been invaded. Realistically, I’d choose to die, but I knew I would regret it later on”

You loved the way his mind worked. The way he’d analyze situations the same way you did. But you couldn’t help but see he was in sorrow, his eyes would wonder around, because maybe if they met yours for too long they’d uncover how hurt he was. “Look I know you don’t wanna talk about it. . .but what you said earlier, about feeling lonely. I feel like that all the time. I’m only saying this because I want you to know you’re really not alone in that feeling. In case you think you are.”

He averted his stare from the sea to your eyes “You know what’s really funny? When I seem to get really lonely you’re the person that happens to be there…and…I guess, I’m lucky for that because you seem to have a soothing effect on me. You know, the things I would normally worry about, they don’t really feel that warring when I talk to you”

Fuck.

You close your eyes and let the water drops his your face. Cold showers were the only thing that prevented you from overthinking, but it looks like this time, your thoughts had taken over.

Taehyung P.O.V

It was cold.

Not that he expected to find warmth and comfort, but he couldn’t help but notice it seemed to be colder than usual. While he walked down the silent corridors, Taehyung wondered when was the last time this house had felt like a home, and not just a shelter with a roof under which he barely existed.

He guesses it was a long time ago. Before his mother had left. The process took him back to a long lost summer, too many years ago, when the walls were still vibrating with life and happiness. That there was even a time in which he had walked barefoot, with just his trunks on in the middle of the winter, without feeling cold, was such a preposterous thought he sometimes wondered whether it had really happened at all, or it was just a fantasy his mind had made up.

It was not a fantasy, and he knew it.

Taehyung knew there was a time he had loved his life, and that he was believed to be destined for greatness. To inherit this big empire his dad had carefully laid out for him.

All bullshit. 

He quickly pushed these pointless thoughts to the corner of his mind where they belonged, to focus on the more pressing matter of why his house had suddenly become as cold as the Antarctic. The answer to that question came when he noticed that every single fireplace was empty.

“Fucking hell” he muttered

It was Maya’s fault - as always - but he couldn’t bring himself to summon their head maid to tell her she had yet again forgotten to light the fire, mostly because it would have just made her cry for thirty minutes, promising him that she’d be more attentive next time. But no matter how many times Maya promised, she always forgot and, to be honest, he didn’t care any more.

Taehyung was conscious this house had long lost its past glory, with the cold that now covered every piece of furniture and treasure his family had been so proud of. He vaguely remembered his father showing off a miniature greek statue of Achilles, whose head was covered in gold, to a distinguished member of the British Royal family, and wondered what his old man would have thought if he knew his son had used the priceless treasure as a target, and had concluded its existence by flinging the remains into the fire.

 After having lit all the fireplaces, he sank heavily into an old velvet armchair and grabbed the bottle on the small table on his left. Not even bothering to acknowledge what it was - honestly it didn’t make any difference - he uncorked it and began to drink straight from the neck.

Irish.

It was definitely Irish whiskey. Although not The Macallan, or perhaps it was just the shittiest bottle ever produced by that brand.

Taehyung took another long swig, Macallan or not it perfectly served its aim. Unfortunately, his busy drinking was interrupted by the sudden appearance of their head maid, Maya.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” she squeaked in her high-pitched voice, “but mister Logan has come to see you.”

He closed his eyes and set his jaw, mentally cursing his bad luck. “Where is he now?”

“I’m here.”

Logan Everett’s slow deep voice forced Taehyung to lift his eyelids. Time hadn’t been kind to the former Minister of justice, the black of his hair had long ago disappeared to make room for a pure white, his forehead wrinkled and it seemed he needed aid from an emerald embedded cane in order to stand up straight. But time hadn’t been kind to Taehyung either, so he wisely opted to not share his thoughts.

“Hello, uncle Logan” were the words he greeted him with instead, after dismissing Maya with a nod, and before lifting his left arm to offer him the liquor. “Want some? I’m afraid it’s not Macallan but it gets the job done”

Logan twisted his lips into a disapproving grimace as he proceeded to sit on the armchair opposite to him. “It’s 5 o’clock in the afternoon, Taehyung.”

“Do I have to take that as a no, thank you ?”

“Obviously.”

Was it ten years ago? He recalls that’s the last time he’d seen Logan Everett this close. He’d phone Taehyung from time to time, make sure he wasn’t drunk driving himself into a ditch, but other than that, Taehyung’s godfather was nothing but a ghost in his life.

His father’s best friend.

Funny, considering Logan was somewhat of a decent human being, or just, a human being—unlike his father. When his mother was still here, Logan along with his late wife vacationed with them every summer. Taehyung remembers himself running around in Verona, Italy. Logan chasing after him.

It was warm then, unlike now; Taehyung was freezing.

“Is he here? Your father?”

Taehyung took his time to drink again and then shook his head. “No.” Thankfully

“Does he plan to come back soon?”

“As far as I know, he is having the time of his life finalizing some deal in Germany so… no.” He cocked his eyebrows while staring at his Godfather. “What do you need from him?”

To state that the relationship between Logan and his father had deteriorated was an utter underestimation, since the two of them had barely spoken in those long years. When Taehyung had asked why ���when he still cared—the cryptic answer Logan gave him was “he destroyed something I cared about”

Nothing surprising there. Ruining others’ lives was his father’s expertise, as Taehyung knew from first hand experience.

“I heard he’s getting you engaged with the Arden family.”

“I’m not getting engaged with anyone” Taehyung replied immediately, taking another sip of Irish while his eyes stayed on the older man.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s your choice to make, kid”

“Uh I’m pretty sure I can’t get engaged if I don’t consent. My dad may be rich but he is not God. Besides, what’s the worst he could do? Exile me from Hashfield? He’d be doing me a favor”

“You’re speaking nonsense” Logan’s hands wrapped around the cane in frustration “Believe it or not, The wall is here to protect you son. To get to the level of wealth your father is right now, he had to make a lot of enemies, powerful people, who would love nothing but his only heir outside the wall, unprotected.”

Every word Logan spoke made less sense than the other “What do you even mean?”

“The less you know the better” There was no hesitation in Logan’s speech. He slowly got up and paced towards Taehyung. Resting a palm in his shoulder “You’re getting older Taehyung, you’re not a little boy anymore.” There was a pause “Get engaged with the Arden Lady. . .people like us, living in our world, we don’t marry for love… but power. We build walls higher than the rest, because we have way more to loose”

The smell of expensive paint, deodorant, high-end perfume, and cigarettes entered your nostrils as you opened the door.

“You need anything madam?” Celine’s maid greeted you, making you feel more out of place than ever. Maids, palaces for homes and stadium like gardens made you question your existence in Hashfield everyday.

“No, thank you” you honeyed your voice. These people were working class—like you. You’ve seen the way insiders treated their staff and it made you sick to your stomach every time, you figure that’s how they’d treat you had you not been accepted into Hashfield College.

“This way, madam”

You look around.

Imagine the interior of the Palace of Versailles—or perhaps those gorgeous buildings in Florence were more like it— gold, marble, mirrors. Large and heavy-looking curtains draped down the sides of the extensive windows and the floor was this sturdy polished oak wood. The contrast between the light colours and the dark ones was just perfectly balanced. It was extraordinarily aesthetically pleasing. You felt so out of your league you thought you’d stain the place.

Underneath all the chemicals you perceived, you could distinguish the smell of wood, which was probably because of the floor. Your eyes glazed over the gorgeous cream-coloured walls, which were decorated with the most awe-inspiring golden ornaments. The place was definitely for the elite. And if the walls weren’t a perfect indication then the silk, ruby red, one of a kind dress Celine was wearing certainly was.

“Y/n!, hey! what’s up?” Jin called you out the minute he laid eyes on you. He’d been extra protective this week, texting you every day to see if you wanted him to bring god damn ice cream like it would make this whole ‘bet’ scandal go away.

It was sweet of him, it really was, but the embarrassment that washed over you when everyone learned about the bet Taehyung had made over who was going to fuck you first, was not going to get better with fucking ice cream.

“Hey guys” you acknowledged everyone in the room. You hadn’t made eye contact with Zed since that night—and you weren’t planning on making any today—your stomach dropped to your knees every time you thought about what had happened.

Kim Taehyung fucked up the relationship between the only insiders you hanged out with.

“Y/n, you know we’ve all been talking about how much of a dick Taehyung is…” Jiyeon started. An apologetic look on her face.

Fucking great.

You specifically had texted Jin about wanting to avoid this situation. He’d promised this would just be a simple hang out with friends, maybe drink a little wine to pass the time and then go back home.

You did not want to talk about the bet that had been placed without your consent. Especially in front of Zed who was swirling his whiskey like it was freaking talking to him.

“What he did was… terrible, he’s always been such an A-hole to girls. But betting over such a thing?” She shook her head “That’s low. Even for him”

“True” added Celine

“Guys. Really. It’s fine” you tried to mask your emotions with a smile “Can we talk about something else?. . . Anything”

• • •

Billie Holiday played softly from the pool radio. Condensation dripped down crystal glasses, and silverware glinted in the bright sunlight. It was a chilly October afternoon, the steady breeze being the perfect interlude.

The chairs were soft, the food was good, and the wine was worth twice your house, but it could only be so comfortable having dinner with a bunch of insiders.

“Anyway, I heard the Arden family is settling matters with The Kim cooparation—”

“Jiyeon.” The word was a low warning from Zed’s spot at the table.

She rolled her eyes and took a deep drink of wine, but she spoke no more.

You couldn’t care less about this conversation. What Taehyung’s father did was none of your business, they could all go drown and you wouldn’t think about it twice—or once— for that matter.

You always pondered Jiyeon’s and Zed’s relationship though. They did appear to find each other annoying, Zed would talk shit about Jiyeon sometimes and so would she. But then you figure, most of these insiders weren’t really friends with each other, they just existed in the same place at the same time. Much like now. Including yourself.

Jin—your only actual friend among these people— was sitting next to you though hadn’t said a word, except for some oddly-timed chuckling. His mind was clearly traveling somewhere else.

Trevor was apparently already devouring his third stake. Making another rude remark towards the house server while downing what seemed to be a liter of Syrah wine all by himself.

And then there was Celine. Whom you knew was the person that tolerated you less from here and didn’t care about not making it obvious.

Celine was your polar opposite. Where you were quiet, she spoke with abandon and laughed loudly. Where you were demure, well . . . she’d stuck her gum to her cloth napkin before eating her pasta, twirling it around the fork at least a hundred times to make sure nothing was getting spilled on her precious dress.

Low chatter and the scraping of silverware filled the yard, but beneath that lay a tense air that wouldn’t dissipate, an uncomfortable vibe the breeze wouldn’t take with it. Everyone seemed to be easily chatting amongst themselves, so maybe it was just you. You tried to brush it off.

Jiyeon —despite Zed’s orders— didn’t stay quiet for long, though she no longer spoke about insider business gossip. She changed the subject to horse racing. That was an acceptable conversation many joined in on.

However you couldn’t help but think about the question Taehyung had made.

“Why are you here?”

Why were you here? Hashfield is a cold shallow place that’s filled with people you don’t like. Their view of the world was so superficial, human relationships were glib, basically meaningless. No one cared what values their friend had, as long as they had more than five cars on their parking lot.

You couldn’t be more different. Your favourite literary period was the Romantic for crying out loud. . .and it was the same for music and art. There was something about the music from the Romantic period which enamoured you. Genuine emotions came through the music. Every time you listened to Chopin, something rooted inside you pushed you to dance. Perhaps the expressiveness, emotions, and escapism were the factors that drew you towards the Romantic period. You wanted to waltz through a room, carefree. Your body moving along to one of Chopin’s masterpieces instead of sitting across from a bunch of insiders.

Maybe you were a coward, but you were glad you didn’t have to sit near Zed. You were carrying out this carefree facade all evening and had a polite response for anything—as inappropriate as the comments could sometimes be when insiders were drinking—but with him, words were at a loss for you. You felt tongue-tied around him, tilted off your point of gravity, and truthfully just embarrassed, as though a blush permanently warmed your skin. It might be unpleasant speaking to him, but it was too easy to look in his direction.

You cringed as you recall what had happened.

-One week ago, Clair’s party-

Your mother used to smoke at the kitchen table in her nightgown after she and your father would scream the house down. So, naturally, you’d picked up her habit of smoking during stressful times.

With your cheeks burning in anger and the cigarette in your hand, it wasn’t lost on you that the apple really doesn’t fall that fucking far from the tree. Kim Taehyung was a fucking asshole just like his father was rumored to be. But for whatever reason, you realize that you’re more mad at yourself for thinking the opposite for even a second.

You closed your eyes and mentally cursed at yourself when you saw Zed approach you.

“Kim Taehyung” Zed’s voice was a low growl “What a fucking idiot”

“Yeah Zed, I know. That bet was stupid and embarrassing and I’m sorry you got dragged down into it-“

“I mean—is he out of his mind? If I was really trying to fuck you I’d be working much harder, trust me. . . Who does he think he is? He thinks he’s better than me or something?”

Wow.

That was definitely not the reaction you were expecting. Zed was a fucking idiot. He’s obviously intoxicated— but you like to call alcohol the truth serum, so yeah, fuck him.

“Oh really? That’s what you’re so mad about? That you think you could fuck me first?” you let anger sip into your tone

Zed’s eyes widened in embarrassment when he realized his tongue had run faster than his brain “No, y/n look—“ he stammered “all I’m saying is he shouldn’t have placed that bet alright? I mean, I wouldn’t want to fuck you anyway”

You gave him a deadly stare

“That came out wrong! I’m sorry—all I’m trying to say is-“

“Honestly, I bet that whatever you’re trying to say isn’t even important, so how about you get out of my sight?”

Why was it such a surprise to you that Zed was as much of an asshole as the others?

You kept feeling naive lately.

Lunch continued with meaningless chatter, good food and drink, but the tension never dissipated. It sat there, uninterrupted. Like an echo before the words were even spoken.

You remember the first time you met Mina and Namjoon. They were both decently shy kids that gravitated towards each other because their mums were best friends. Seokjin came on later in the picture, Mina was skeptical about him at first because he was an insider, but his true colors surfaced and everyone realized he was a decent human being unlike the rest of them. Eventually, you four became close and the rest was history.

“Feels good to party outside the wall after so long huh?” Seokjin’s smile had basically reached his ears as he handed you a drink

“You can’t imagine” you quickly agreed “I’d forgotten people actually danced at parties”

“How did Mina manage to make such cool friends in Uni? I swear she self diagnosed herself with social anxiety last year.” Namjoon added

“I heard that, asshole” Mina suddenly made an appearance from Namjoon’s back. “And I promised my self I’d change unlike you” she downed what was left of her drink “You’ve made like… two new friends? And one of them is your cousin” she burst a laugh.

But her laughter soon faded away once she made eye contact with you “How are you doing?” She made a pause “Kim Taehyung. That asshole, I hope his house burns down or something.”

“He has like three whole mansions” you rolled your eyes and smiled at her

“Whatever” she took a sip

Four drinks in was when you decided that a bathroom break was more needed than you’d thought.

Stumbling a bit along the narrow hallway, you managed to find your way into the bathroom. To be fair, it was much easier to navigate a normal house as opposed to the three story mansions you were used to these past months.

“Ahh somebody would think you’re stalking me, angel“

Your heartbeats collided with a crash at the familiarity of the voice.

A burning rush of recognition ran down your spine as you met Jungkook’s heavy gaze. Brown doe eyes hugged by thick long eyelashes and a killer smile.

Jungkook was so much more dangerous than he looked. But that was what made him lethal. Because just by looking at those sweet eyes and that picture perfect smile, you wouldn’t be able to imagine how easy it would be for him to break your heart.

What was he even doing here? This was a one hour drive from Hashfield, and a party filled with people that didn’t really match his ‘status’.

You weren’t curious enough to ask.

“Move” was what you spat at him instead.

“Damn y/n. . . You’re breaking my heart”

Why had your name rolled of his tongue like he was more than familiar with it? Well you guess, because it was. . . Considering the fling you two had back in the day.

Another experience ruined by Kim Taehyung.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll get over it. Now, move”

He smiled.

An outrageous smile.

“Since when did you become such an ice queen?”

An even more outrageous question. “Uhh I don’t know, maybe since you and your little friends constantly fucked me over?” It’s ridiculous that you’re even talking to him right now, but somehow you couldn’t hold yourself back.

This hallway was narrow, narrower than you’d like. So when you tried to make your way past him, it was easy for him to pull you back with a simple hand movement.

He suddenly seemed to get ahold of his drunk self “Y/n about that… I just wanted to say I’m sorry, it was a shitty thing to do”

“Yeah, you think?” You don’t hold back the anger and bitterness sip into your tone, Jungkook deserved nothing less. “Let go”

An evil grimace formed, and the way he slightly came closer made your stomach drop. “I don’t really want to”

“I can smell the alcohol in your breath, Jungkook. Let go”

“I can assure you I’m very sober right now” he followed your order and took a step back, letting your hand slide down his fingers

You hadn’t talked to Jungkook since the whole fiasco between you him and Taehyung, yet this moment was enough to remind you the pull he had on you.

An annoying pull you had no control over.

“Y/n, I really am sorry. . . About everything”

You took a long sight, forgiving Jungkook for all the bullshit he’d done in the past was not on today’s to-do list. “Apologizing doesn’t take what you did back. It just puts me in a shitty position of having to decide wether you’re worth forgiving or not.”

“I know. I know. It’s selfish of me to say it now but uhm, I don’t think I’d get another chance so…”

“I get it, but I don’t think I’m ready to forgive you Jungkook.” You breathed in a shallow breath as you walked passed him and got into the bathroom.

It was the right thing to do. Jungkook was not the person you needed to talk to right now.

You closed your eyes and the mumbled music brought you back to the last time you had actually talked to him.

Outfield central club, two years ago

“I’m telling you pink brings out your eyes you should wear it more often” you jokingly pushed his shoulder. Jungkook didn’t need any color to bring out his eyes, they did a fine job being the center of attention on their own.

He smiled and pulled you closer by grabbing your waist. A signature move of his, you’d wondered how many girls had fallen for that trick. “There you go, romanticizing me again” he stood still but his eyes burned with intensity. “It’s too late for me, angel. I destroy everything beautiful that comes into my life”

That was not entirely wrong.

Sure, you and Jungkook had become extremely close this past year, the closest you’d been with an insider besides SeokJin and well, Kim Taehyung. But you felt comfortable around him, playboy reputation aside, there were times when he seemed genuine, sincere and kind.

Despite his rumors, Jungkook was not a bad person, which is surprising considering he hanged out with the devil himself, Kim Taehyung.

You and Jungkook clicked. You liked the same bands, enjoyed the same movies felt the same way when Jenna Jones and Brandy broke up. (She was too good for him)

“I don’t believe that. I think you’ve just convinced yourself that your not worth something serious because when you start to really care about someone it scares you”

His eyes got bigger “I care about you, and I’m not all that scared”

Gosh with the way he was smiling right now he had to have known how much you’d been crushing over him this past year.

You sighted. You wanted to put a chink in the ice he wore like armor. Stepping closer you ran a finger across his jawline, your voice soft “You have such a handsome face. Does it always get you everything you want?”

“Almost”

There was something so significant about that single word it put a hitch in your breath. “I bet one look from you can make women swoon at your feet”

He grow, probably annoyed that you brought up his popularity again. “Yet here you stand, perfectly not swooned”

You laughed lightly “Oh I wouldn’t say that”

He stared down at you.

You stared up at him.

As a corner of his lips lifted, You realized you were amusing him. “What?” You broke the silence

“Nothing” he shook his head “I shouldn’t really be here, Taehyung would kill me”

“What does Taehyung have to do with this?” You said firmly. Pretending the mere mention of his name didn’t bring your blood to boil.

“He’s just weird about me talking with you. He thinks we shouldn’t mix” he let out a breath

“We? As in. . . outsiders and insiders?”

He was a fucking asshole

“Cmon angel. . . You know how he is”

“Well, fuck him” You said, trying to take a step back, but his hand went to your lower back and drifted to the top of your ass. Your stomach tightened with unease.

Jungkook had always been subtly inappropriate—his fingers just grazing things they shouldn’t. Close enough to make you pleasantly uncomfortable, but not too close to where it would be considered something. If he went further, would you be able to handle it?

Jungkook pulled back to look you in the eye, but his hand didn’t leave you. Something crawled under your skin. You realized at this moment why you couldn’t escape the spell he seemed to have everyone under.

He buried his head on your neck before pulling back again “I could smell you all day, you know that?”

You stared at his big bright innocent eyes. Jungkook was the picture perfect son, or that’s what every magazine wrote, at least. He was kind and flirty to everyone, and could make every person in the room feel happy just by flashing a smile. That’s why he was so popular in the media. But what you found the most intriguing about his appearance, however, was the dark ink that showed through his white dress shirt. It was vague, but you thought it went all the way from his shoulder to the gold watch on his wrist. Jeon Jungkook had a full sleeve. You knew that «good kid» look was all smoke and mirrors.

He was looking at you as if he’d felt you observing him “I feel like you get lost in that head of yours sometimes” his smile was a soft one, the one he’d flash the paparazzi sometimes when he wanted to take an innocent looking picture.

“What can I say, thinking is my favorite hobby” you joked

“So. . . what do you think about me?” That smile never left his face

That you’re dangerous “I can be honest?”

“Please be”

“I was skeptical about you at first, I mean, your crowd, you know, they don’t have the best reputation, especially amongst outsiders. But as I got to know you, I’ve found that you’re the best exception to the rule ever”

“I am?” His eyes looked as if he’d succeeded at something

“Yeah, you are” your pulse leapt into your throat at the thought of your next words “I think I really like you, Jungkook—”

His name wasn’t even properly out of your mouth yet his lips locked on top of yours. He sucked slightly on your bottom lip, and he tasted as sweet as his reputation had been.

It was two days later that Taehyung had told everyone Jungkook hitting on you was a total prank.

You felt destroyed, defeated, because you had honestly fallen for Jungkook, but the disgust took every single feeling away. It took over your body for months, and you cried it out until you felt numb to it.

How shitty does a person have to be to do that? Yet how easily could you forget everything Taehyung had done to you? Your mind took you back to the «sober corner» and reminded you of everything you and Taehyung did together. But mostly what was more fucked up was how intense your feelings were for him. A person that never did right by you.

You closed your eyes shut and with a deep breath you let all the anger wash out of you. You decided that the pitty party was over as you had a very real party waiting for you on the other side of that door.

• • •

It had maybe hit four when Namjoon had finished throwing up for the third time tonight.

“What do you think y/n? Three or four months of teasing for this?” Mina bumped you in the shoulder

“I don’t know Mins” you let a laugh out “Let him live a little, he’s had a rough week”

So had you.

“You turned soft y/n, is it the change of the wall?” She teased

“Oh yes! Cause being around insiders all day turns me into such a softie!”

She chuckled at that but after a moment her eyes turned serious “You sure you don’t want to talk bout it?”

“Mina, don’t” you warned “Talking about it won’t change anything”

“It might change how you feel”

“I doubt it” You faked a smile, knowing Mina wouldn’t buy it anyway “So tell me all about that guy from the Kim’s firm!! What was his name? C something? It definitely had an E there was well—”

“Cedric, his name is Cedric” she rolled her eyes “Yeah well, I think he likes me. . . I mean he was aallll over me earlier” she smiled to herself.

“Well duh!!” You made a noise of acknowledgment, not surprised it had taken her this long to come to that assumption. The obvious was like a well hidden secret in Mina’s eccentric mind. Surprising, as she’d always aced her schoolwork, read people like a morning paper and had more friends than you could ever hope for.

“And I kept thinking, maybe there’s a reason he manspreads so much? He is big. Then I began to worry, so I started looking up pictures—well, videos—of men his size, naked, and that only made me worry more.”

“You were watching porn.” You said, deadpan, leaning by the side of Seokjin’s car while he fed Namjoon what seemed to be a hotdog? Where did he even get that?

She tilted her head “Yeah, I guess that’s what it’s called.” She turned around and followed your gaze “Okay where the hell did he get that hotdog from? I’m starving”

“Mina!! Hello? You were watching. . .” You lowered your voice “porn, for a guy? To like what? Prepare yourself? See if he’d fit?” A laugh escaped you but when Seokjin shot you a glare you turned it into a cough.

“Anywayyyys” she said as she opened the car door “Speaking of Cedric, I’ve got news!”

“Oh” was what you said when you got in the car, guessing the next sentence that’d come out of her mouth wasn’t going to be your favorite thing in the world.

“The Kim and Arden family are trying to make the engagement official”

“Trying…?”

“Jesus y/n, you’re living under a rock. Too many books not enough TV”

“You’re going to be a great mum” you chuckled

“Taehyung is literally all over the media, apparently some paparazzi interviewed him on the street last night, he said, and I quote! What my father wants is non of my business, I would rather eat a bag of dirt” she stopped “A bag. Of. Dirt.” she jerked her head backwards laughing “Listen, I don’t like the dude, but he’s got balls”

Relief shouldn’t be what you’re feeling right now. “I see” you tried to sound indifferent, because that was the acceptable reaction, but something pounded inside of you.

“I mean, acting up like that? In front of cameras? ANNND against his dad’s word? Makes you wonder why he’s so against it, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes “What are you implying, Mina?”

She had a puppy look on her face “Nothing! Nothing! I’m just sayinggg”

“He’s young, and a massive playboy” you sounded more angry than you should “He obviously doesn’t want to be caged like a pup. Besides, he can’t tolerate Brianna for more than a second”

“And you know that because…?” Mina was obviously teasing.

Fuck. “Well, you know he told me, Mina.”

Of course Mina knew, but Seokjin, who was driving, and Namjoon, who was sitting on the edge of the passenger sit looking out the window probably contemplating life and why he had so much to drink today, didn’t exactly know the details between you and Taehyung. And you’d like to keep it that way.

There was a silence “I know I was stupid to trust him okay? I just—“

“It’s not your fault, y/n” Seokjin’s voice made an appearance “It’s not your fault he’s an asshole.”

“I know, I get it”

“So all that anger, don’t place it on yourself” Namjoon’s voice was barely audible

“Sorry are we still talking about y/n or are you talking about your alcohol problem? Because I’m a little confused” Mina snorted, she was always the one to tease Namjoon yet she took care of him the most out of all of us.

You rolled down the window, allowing the autumn air to flow through the car. It was a beautiful night, the starriest it had been for a while now. Cold air brushed your skin as you drove back to Outfield, gazing the wall from afar and that’s all you used to do, but now you know the other side of it very well. In fact, you were more familiar with it than you’d like. Bitterness crawled up your throat.

Toward the end of November, the bet was long forgotten and everyone and their mother was focused on Taehyung’s so called engagement, or rather, the lack of it.

You didn’t care. Focusing on schoolwork was far more important. . .Or that’s at least the lies you’d been feeding yourself.

It was hard to avoid it, considering it was all everyone talked about. The Arden and Kim family were arguably Hashfield’s founding families, the possibility of those two historic houses merging had everyone on edge.

Well, except Taehyung, apparently.

Ever since the scandal interview he gave about a month ago, Kim Taehyung seemed to do the opposite of what his father wanted. According to Claire, there had been a succession of crushes, flings, one night stands, who knows. To you all of it boiled down to one thing only: his cock had been everywhere. It had been in god knows how many vaginas, how many mouths.

Without your concern, your gaze found him. The amphitheater was big enough, so he shouldn’t notice.

The image disgusted you. It bothered you to think of him between a girl’s legs as she lay facing him, his broad, tanned, glistening shoulders moving up and down. Just looking at his shoulders when he happened to be going over his notes made you wonder where they’d been last night. How effortless and free the movement of his shoulder blades each time he shifted, how thoughtlessly they caught the sun. Did they taste of the sea to the woman who had lain under him last night and bitten into him? Or of his suntan lotion?

You remembered the last time you’d seen his shoulders all exposed under the sun. It was three years a go, near the end of your friendship.

You were in your mother’s garden, he’d stop by to bring you a Nintendo for your birthday. You tried to tell him that you were going to be a junior this year and that he should cut it with the kid stuff, but you’d secretly wished for that Nintendo so badly.

“Listen, I need to pick up something in town.” he said.

Something was always weed.

“And here I was, thinking you came down to Outfield for my birthday”

He sat silently a moment. “I did.” cleared his throat “Want to come with me? It’s been a while since we rode our bikes together”

“Now?” What you might have meant was, Really?

“Why, have you got anything better to do?”

“No.”

“So let’s go.”

Kim Taehyung, billionaire, Kim Taehyung, riding on a bike instead of his panamera just because you’d convinced him it was fun two years ago was the funniest sight, ever.

When you arrived at the garage, Amir, was arguing with Kadir, as usual.

This time he was accusing him of dousing the tomatoes with too much water, and that it was all wrong, because they were growing too fast.

“They’ll be mealy,” Amir complained.

“Listen. I do the tomatoes, you do the driving, and we’re all happy.”

“You don’t understand. In my day you moved the tomatoes at some point, from one place to another, from one place to the other”—he insisted—“and you planted basil nearby. But of course you people who’ve been in the army know everything.”

Their heavy accents made everything a little lighter.

“That’s right.” Kadir was ignoring him.

“Of course I’m right. No wonder they didn’t keep you in the army.”

“That’s right. They didn’t keep me in the army.”

Both of them greeted the two of you. The gardener handed Taehyung his weed. “You have a familiar face kid. Ever since the first day you came out here, I’ve seen you before, I’m sure of it. Did you work in a farm nearby perhaps?”

A laugh escaped your lips at the thought of Kim Taehyung being a farmer, maybe in another life. Of course Kadir had seen Tae’s face hanging in magazines or blasted through the daily talking show, but he couldn’t exactly pin point it.

Taehyung caught your smiled and after eyeing you smiled back.

Amir couldn’t have been more peeved. “No farmer dresses like that, are you stupid? From now on, I talk to customers you grow the tomatoes”

Kadir gave a wry smile.

Once you two had reached the cypress lane that led onto the main road to town, you asked Tae, “Doesn’t he give you the creeps?”

“Who?”

“Amir.”

“No, why? I fell the other day on my way back and scraped myself pretty badly. Amir insisted on applying some sort of witch’s brew. He also fixed the bike for me.” With one hand on the handlebar he lifted his shirt and exposed a huge scrape and bruise on his left hip.

“Still gives me the creeps,” You said, repeating your aunt’s verdict.

“Just a lost soul, really.”

Lost soul.

On your way, you noticed that Tae was taking his time. He wasn’t in his usual rush, no speeding, no scaling the hill with his usual athletic zeal. Nor did he seem in a rush to go back to his precious wall, or join his new friends on the beach.

He’d been spending a lot of time with a new crowd, you didn’t really know them, nor were you interested. Rich snobby kids from far inside the wall, probably best to avoid them. It kind of bugged you that Tae had started hanging out with them so much, but you wouldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

Today he’d spend almost the entire day with you, perhaps he had nothing better to do.

When you arrived at the small café that overlooked the sea, Tae stopped to buy cigarettes. He had started smoking Gauloises. You had never tried Gauloises and asked if you could. He took out a cerino from the box, gently placed the cigarette in between your lips and by cupping his hands very near your face, lit your cigarette.

“Not bad, right?” he said after you took a puff

“Not bad at all.”

He didn’t like the fact that you’d picked up smoking, but he wasn’t any better so he decided not to scold you about it anymore.

“Just take a look at this,” he said as the two of you ambled with your bikes in the afternoon sun toward the edge of the café overlooking the rolling hills below.

Farther out and way below was a magnificent view of the sea with scarcely a few stripes of foam streaking the bay like giant dolphins breaking the surf. “Do you know about the wailing woman?” he asked suddenly.

“She threw her husband in the sea, thinking he was dead, but he had just been asleep for days due to some medication. He ended up drowning from the waves”

“You heard how she died?”

“The next night she took a bunch of sleeping pills and threw herself in the sea to drown as well” You replied and studied his pondering face.

“Do you know why she did that?”

“Because she thought that, if she died the same way her husband did, she’d meet him in the afterlife.”

Why was he quizzing you?

“Is there anything you don’t know?” he asked, his eyes a light caramel from the sun.

“I know nothing, Tae. Nothing, just nothing.”

“You know more than anyone around here.Anyone I’ve ever met”

Why was he returning your near-tragic tone with bland ego-boosting?

“If you only knew how little I know about the things that really matter.” you replied

“What kind of things?” It was as if he was starring down into your soul

How much you wanted to touch his hair which was slightly ruffled by the passing wind. How much you wanted him to come even closer, maybe enough to hear how fast your heart beat every time he was near you.

Tell him. It’s now or never.

Is it better to speak, or to die? “Nothing.”

You were treading water, trying neither to drown nor to swim to safety, just staying in place, because here was the truth—even if you couldn’t speak the truth, or even hint at it, yet you could swear it lay around the two of you, the way they say that if a necklace gets lost while swimming: You know it’s down there somewhere.

You focus back to the class. On the Present day, when Taehyung was just a mere asshole to you, nothing else. You hopefully averted your eyes fast enough so that he didn’t notice you staring at him for what was probably fifteen minutes now.

This class was boring, you blame the weariness that washed over you for the flashbacks you were having about him.

That version of Taehyung was long dead to you.

@nikkiordonez12 @travelleratheart101 @theaufanartist @world-moon @ratedbangtann @chimchoom @pnkoo @taehyungedd @turnthepageandbeburnt @glitteryouid @jkbangtan7 @chimchoom @thankyoublair @manuosorioh

[vknq]

tea for two  ;  kth

SUMMARY: Taehyung is keeping a secret from you and has been acting suspicious for a while. Can you really trust him or is it time to break things off?

―  POV: reader  ―  PAIRING: taehyung x reader. ―  RATING: m (18+), minors dni. ―  WORD COUNT: 3,732 words ―  GENRE/AU: one-shot, romance, established relationship, angst, fluff. ―  CONTENT WARNING: explicit language, suspected cheating, heated arguments, taehyung all secretive whats that all about, very emotional.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: my very first fic AAAAAAAA im kind of proud of this one but also super nervous lol i hope y’all like it! happy december 2nd everybody! also i’m new to using people’s personal tags, so if any of y’all know if there are more tags to be a menace to society in pls lmk thanks c:  if you like it pls consider reblogging as it helps show support<3 

BETA READER/S: @kookimonster​  ( i hope you know you owe me 27 words )

Maybe this was it. This was how it ended. A four year long relationship with the most beautiful man you’d ever laid your eyes upon. You should’ve known he’d be nothing but a heartbreak in disguise.

“I’m literally not jealous!” you spoke with that very same denied jealousy spilling over, increasing the volume of your voice. Desperately searching through your makeup bag to find.. something, anything that could distract you and act as an excuse not to look at him. Not like you’d seen much of him these past couple of weeks anyway. Something was off. You could feel it so deeply and truly in your heart that you could choke on pure emotion. 

“Sure,” Taehyung said sarcastically from the opposite side of the room, “You don’t seem jealous at all. My bad.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I am not fucking jealous.”

“Oh, come on. You really think you can fool me? You’re a terrible liar.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should get off your high horse,” you aimed your words right back at him, keeping your glance fixated on the makeup bag. Hands still fiddling through the beauty products. There was a brief pause in the verbal combat you found yourself in. It almost gave you enough time to regret your indication of a superiority complex in Taehyung. You knew there’d never been such in him, but the words had been said. It was out there now. You had to just roll with it, be stubborn, be strong. 

“My high horse?” Taehyung expressed genuine confusion, “It’s you who refuses to tell me what the fuck is going on!”

This is when it escalated within you. Your heart beating faster, your cheeks getting warmer. This really wasn’t the time to start up a big argument. You had to be at his parents house in a couple of hours meaning you’d have to leave in just about 10 minutes. That wasn’t nearly enough time to confront him about his dishonest behaviour lately. He’d been texting her a lot, back and forth, emojis galore. He’d been meeting up with her.. At a coffee shop, he’d said. Sure. He’d even turned down a night out with his best friends. Suspicious.

“You are literally so stupid, Tae! So fucking stupid!” your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, revealing how fragile and weak you felt in this moment. You heard a frustrated sigh.

“Babe, please…” he softened up a bit.

“I really don’t wanna discuss this shit right now,” you brushed him off and grabbed a boring pink-ish lipstick to put on in a couple of swipes, pressing your lips together briefly, “Come on, we’re gonna be late.” You finally looked over at Taehyung.

Everything about him was perfect. Head to toe gorgeous, solid income, always one of the best dressed men in the room, and he loved you. Or so you’d thought. His brows were slanted downwards, eyes big and pleading. Looking guilty, in your opinion. Your eyes began to sting at the very back. Poor Jimin.

“Baby…” he breathed, voice soft and timid.

You exhaled. “Let’s just go.”

It had been difficult. Sitting there at the dinner table at his parents house, having to pretend everything was fine, being reminded of the dreams you’d shared nothing but a few months back. They’d teased you two, asking when you’d be tying the knot, and poked at Taehyung about why he hadn’t gotten down on one knee yet. Back then you’d just laughed it off, saying that you loved each other no matter if there were rings involved or not… but the sex that night had been more intimate and meaningful than before, and you knew. You both knew that this was the real deal, that you wanted what had been left unspoken. What had been merely hinted at in cheeky glances lovingly given to each other. There was no doubt in your mind that this is where you wanted to be; right there in his arms.

But that was in the past. Now you were sat in a car barely acknowledging one another, falling apart in deafening silence. There was nothing you wanted more in this world than to go back to when everything was good. Back to when you didn’t know what you knew now.

It was quiet the entire ride home. Not even the radio was on. Nothing but the sound of rain gently drumming on the roof of the car, and your heart shattered painfully slowly with every passing second. On paper it sounded like just another trip to the in-laws, eating a delicious dinner, chatting about daily life, and driving home again afterwards… but it wasn’t. The freezing cold air pierced at your skin as you exited the car. It was dark out already. December had never been generous with warmth nor light. Snow creaked underneath your feet as you walked up towards the apartment complex, failing to wait for your boyfriend to join you, missing his hand in yours but simultaneously hating the thought. 

Without sharing a single word, Taehyung met you at the front door and you went inside together. Shoes off, coats off.

“We, um…” Taehyung awkwardly attempted to start the conversation, “We should talk about what happened today.” 

Your heart sank. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“How about you actually start telling me what’s happening? Why are you so hostile with me all of a sudden? What have I done?” he bombarded you with questions, leaving you feeling despondent. 

“I think you know,” you dryly responded.

“See, but baby I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Feeling deprived of energy and any desire to continue this discussion, you simply shook your head at his antics, turning around on your heel heading for the living room. Taehyung followed suit.

“Why are you shaking your had at me? Baby, what did I do?” he sounded so genuine, but you knew better. He couldn’t expect you to not see through his little act of being oh so oblivious.

“What did you do?” you asked before turning around sharply, shooting daggers at him with your gaze. Taehyung stopped in his tracks. “Are you kidding me, Tae?”

Visibly confused he frowned. “No?”

You felt your jaw drop and with it hanging onto dear life from the disbelief, a smile formed upon your lips. The audacity this man had. “Um, does Yumi ring a bell?” you finally spoke up, Taehyung’s expression neutralising upon realising what this was about, “I know you’ve been texting. I have seen your phone light up from all those little notifications. She even sent you a ring emoji at some point? And Jimin had like sent some text I think, asking you if you’d fallen off the face of the earth or something like that. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you really think that I don’t know cheating when I see it?”

“Babe, stop it,” Taehyung harshly reacted when cheating was brought up.

“Did I stutter? She’s your best friend’s girlfriend, Tae! What the fuck!” you involuntarily raised your voice at him, feeling your insides twisting and turning, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and greater. You knew it was a matter of mere moments before it’d let go and you’d lose your battle against remaining stoic towards the pain.

“What? I know she’s my best friend’s girlfriend. Who do you think I am?” the volume of his voice matching yours.

“You’re not even denying it!”

“Fucking hell. No! No. No. No. I am not cheating on you,” he scattered his words all around, seeming messy and desperate, “Now how’s that for denying it?”

“How’s that for denying it? What are you, twelve?” you mocked his choice of words. This was getting out of hand, you were well aware of it, but there was anger inside of you that you needed to let out. A hurt you didn’t know what to do with. “I literally caught you, Tae.”

“Oh my god…” he mumbled to himself. Rude.

“You’ve had all the time in the world to tell me what’s going on, but you chose not to.”

“I can’t,” he sighed.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” you challenged him, feeling more than fed up with his avoidant behaviour at this point and feeling your emotions clump in your chest. Eyes not leaving your boyfriend, you took him in; he seemed nervous, worried, maybe even a little hopeless. Was he gonna confess? After all, he couldn’t keep his act up for much longer. Only a fool would let their pride get in the way of being truthful. Surely he wasn’t that stubborn.

“I can’t.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. That was it. The last drop that proved too much for you and you felt your bottom lip start to tremble.

“I know how it sounds, but I promise you it’s not what it looks like.”

You scoffed at him. In complete disbelief and shock. ‘Not what it looks like’ was the very thing people said, when it was exactly what it looked like. You knew this. You’d dealt with cheaters before saying the same thing, and they’d all been lying.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me… I really never thought-”

Your sentence was cut short by an unexpected sob clutching your throat. Instinctively you hurried your hands up to your face, covering it, hiding it. Hiding your pain, the hurt, the harm. Another sob choked by your hands, tears building up in your eyes at an alarming rate, the simplest task of breathing felt impossible. 

“Babe, I haven’t. I’m telling you,” he tried.

“Just shut up,” you sobbed, removing your hands and trying your best to steady your breathing, “I need to go.”

“What?” Taehyung’s voice sounded so small.

“I need to get out of here and just.. go for a walk or something, I don’t know,” your glance landed on your shoes in the entrance and you immediately walked towards them. You needed space. Lots of it.

“I’m-.. You’ll come back, right?”

You didn’t respond. Your only goal right now was to put on those shoes and leave.

“Babe?” he followed you out of the living room, “Babe, don’t do this. Please. I can’t. It’d just ruin everything.”

Another wave of tears were coming. Oh, he dared to speak as though being honest would ruin anything. As if his unfaithful ways hadn’t already wrecked everything. Trying to pin it on you, huh? Zoned out, you felt your head softly shake at his words. Disapproving of them. 

“I promised her I wouldn’t say anything. What do you want me to do?” he begged.

“Whatever,” you said and opened the door, “Let me leave.”

Slam.

The cold wind was ripping through your clothes, closing itself around your limbs, creating an army of goosebumps all over your skin. Snow was gathering on your shoes, the melted seeping through and soaking your socks. It was oddly peaceful. Not a single person in sight, not a single footprint in the snow that painted everything pristine white. It left you with plenty of room to collect yourself and deal with all that was going on inside you. What a pleasant surprise it was that the freezing cold helped you strip away any anxiety or fear, leaving you with nothing but the very core.

Was this really it? Was this really how it ended? A four year long relationship with the most beautiful man you’d ever laid your eyes upon. Perhaps you should’ve listened to him. He did beg for you to listen and you’d rejected him. Could there really be more to this story? More often than not it was a clear cut case. People lied to each other every day. Breaking trust, breaking hearts. Why should Taehyung be any different than any of the ones that came before him?

You wrapped your coat tighter around your body, starting to regret having gone for this silly walk. Your phone vibrated in your pocket for the 100th time, yet you did nothing to pick it up. You had no idea how long you’d been out in the snowy winter night, but your fingers gave you a clue. Fingers more like icicles at this point. The wind got stronger, playing with your hair, gently pushing you, warning you, telling you to go back home. Curling your shoulders up to your ears, you tried to shield yourself a little more from the crispy cold wind, but to no avail. Stubborn and protective of your trust, you kept arguing with yourself, not knowing whether to keep walking or turn around and go home. You wanted to feel warm again. Safe and comfortable.

And that’s when you saw it. A car that very much looked like Taehyung’s, same colour and everything. Forced to squint your eyes at the thousands of snowflakes coming your way in full force, you didn’t even bother trying to see who was behind the wheel. A sliver of hope appeared in your chest, wishing for it to be Tae.

Alas, the car passed you.

You missed him. Didn’t wanna be apart, didn’t wanna break up. You didn’t want any of this to be happening. Eyes watering, you found temporary comfort in the past. Back to when you’d first met him. You’d felt so confident, so independent. Like you didn’t need no man. Having just gotten out of a long string of terrible relationships with terrible people, one more toxic than the other, you had fully decided to not fall in love again. It had been going really well. You were advancing in your career, catching up with friends, going harder in the gym, you’d even gotten around to start a new hobby. With so much time to yourself, you’d honestly almost felt a sense of relief and freedom not having to be tied down and devoted to anyone but yourself.

All he did was crack a couple of jokes, ask about your day, and buy you a donut… Apparently that was all it took. A sob stumbled out of you. No, of course that wasn’t all. ‘Cause he’d shown you respect. Been patient. Understanding. He’d not just told you, but shown you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t unworthy of happiness or unlovable. You’d been too trusting of the wrong people, but he told you that you weren’t wrong or bad or stupid for putting your trust in others. The only ones wrong and bad and stupid were those who took advantage of that. And he’d said your name so overly cutely you’d laughed.

“Baby!” A voice you’d recognise anywhere boomed from behind you.

You turned around and him, he, your lover, your heart, your only wish came running to you. Thoroughly frozen, you walked towards him. You couldn’t run. Your feet were far too numb for that.

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” he sounded so worried, so concerned, and without hesitation, without thinking twice he threw his arms around you in such a warm embrace you only just now realised how dreadfully cold you were.

“God, you’re like ice,” he said and pulled back only enough so that he could look at you, the wind howling in your ears, “Let’s go home, okay? I promise I’ll explain everything. I don’t wanna break up. I wanna work this out.. okay?”

One of his strong hands held your cheek. You almost melted to the touch.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Warm water surrounded your ice blocks for feet, pushing a satisfied exhale up and out of your lungs. Your fingers were still tingling, stinging, and starting to swell up a bit. You’d been out there for longer than you thought. Three hours just walking around, ignoring his calls, lost in thought. Now here you were, in your kitchen, sitting on one of the dining chairs enjoying a foot bath and wrapped in a fleece blanket. Light jazz playing at a low volume. A serene moment in time.

“Want some tea?” he asked, face still heavy with everything you had said to him.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “Thank you.”

It was calm. His tall posture standing by the kitchen counter, preparing tea for you both. Two cups, two spoons, two sugars. Like he’d done so many times before when you were sharing relaxing nights indoors, whether it be the most modest of tuesday evenings or a saturday with last minute cancelled plans. The muted sound of water filling up each cup, it hugged your soul. This was your happy place.. You wished with all your heart that his explanation was a good one.

“Here you go,” Tae placed your cup filled to the brim in front of you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, not grabbing it just yet. The translucent steam still ascending from the cup. You had to wait a little, but maybe that was okay too. Taehyung sat down close to you.

“So, um..” he awkwardly started out, his long fingers fiddling with the handle on his own cup, but his eyes never leaving you, “I haven’t told you, ‘cause I promised Yumi not to say anything to anybody.” Your ears perked up, anxious to hear what this whole secret thing was all about.

“She was afraid it’d come back to Jimin before she got to do it, and I’ve been helping her out like, looking at rings and Hoseok has been keeping Jimin company while I was with Yumi, so he wouldn’t get all suspicious,” he failed to get to the actual point.

“Okay?” you tried to follow along.

“I’m gonna tell you.. ‘cause I don’t wanna risk losing you over something so silly that-that has nothing to do with us,” his brows knotted together, clearly feeling bad about going against his own promise to Yumi, “But you can’t say anything, okay? It’s a secret. It’ll spoil everything.”

“What is it?” you leaned forward, so excited to hear what the secret was that you’d almost forgotten how angry you’d been with him just a few hours earlier. Taehyung sighed heavily.

“She’s gonna.. propose to him.”

You gasped. Jaw dropped and hand up to cover your mouth.

“Yes! Yes, but shh, okay?” he couldn’t hold back a small smile, tickled by your adorable reaction to the news.

“Oh my god,” you whispered for no good reason seeing as it was just you and Tae in the room alone. You couldn’t believe it. They’d been together for not much longer than you guys and now was finally their time. You knew how restless Jimin had been to get married, you knew how great those two were together, and oh gosh Yumi in a wedding dress? Your hand moved to place flat on your chest.

“Now it all makes sense,” you said, thinking back at the ring emojis and Jimin asking why he hadn’t hung out with Tae for a while, “Oh wow.. they’re really getting married?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “But you can’t say anything. Okay?”

“Babe, why would I say anything?”

“Oh come on, we both know you can’t keep a secret to save your life. You’re a terrible liar!” his bright, goofy laugh filled the room.

“Um, rude,” you joked, “I can totally keep a secret!”

“Well, now you kind of have to, don’t you?” he stated the unfortunate reality, “Otherwise Yumi is gonna roast me like a rotisserie chicken. She’ll murder me.” You’d truly never been the best at keeping secrets. If it wasn’t your words disobeying you and blabbering without permission, it was your face. You wouldn’t be able to keep it together if you saw Jimin, face bound to display too much excitement. Maybe it wasn’t completely wicked not to have told you.

“Okay, okay, I promise I won’t say anything,” you teased with a little eyeroll.

“Good.”

And you smiled at each other again. Any bits and pieces of ice left in your heart had melted away. All this stress for nothing. Tae’s smile faded.

“I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve told you.”

“No, please. It’s okay,” you cut him off before he could say any more, “I get it. I know I’m a shit secret-keeper.”

“I’m not gonna fight you on that.” He reached out and took your hand in his, tender as always. His fingers intertwining with yours. “But I should’ve told you earlier today. You were stressed and I wasn’t listening.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, giving his hand a little squeeze, “I wasn’t listening either. I was set on the worst case scenario without talking to you. Got a bit dramatic, didn’t it?”

“That’s okay. We were both a equally stupid,” he smiled lightly.

“Still. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okaaay,” Tae said cutely and he leaned over to plant a kiss on your lips. And another. And another. Soon your lips were moving together like waves on the open ocean, eyes fully closed. His warm tongue slipping past your lips, meeting yours. This was it. This was the true meaning of safety. To love and be loved. To trust and be trusted. Oh, how important communication was. How silly misunderstandings could be. And as he pulled away, even if just the slightest, you opened your eyes and saw nothing more, nothing less than your future.

“What d’you say we take this to the bedroom?” he cheekily suggested and wiggled his eyebrows. You giggled.

“Hmm, sounds tempting,” you hummed.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“I even have a pair of pre-heated socks ready for you,” he teased. Joyfully you snickered, before pressing another peck to his lips.

“That’s genuinely very sexy of you,” your words were almost muffled by how close you were, your mouths nothing but a breath apart, “How did I land you?”

“Maybe you should lock me down too.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes met. Nothing more needed to be said. It’s not like it hadn’t crossed your mind, but it wasn’t something you had actively been thinking about.. not till now at least. Now that he’d mentioned it. Suggested it even.

“What about the tea?” you asked.

“Hm?” Taehyung raised his eyebrows before turning his head to look at the two cups still completely filled, untouched, forgotten about entirely. His mouth pulled up into a smile and he looked back at you. “Ah, it won’t go anywhere.”

His lips seductively brushed against yours.

“It’ll be there when we come back.”

[pennyellee]

A DANGEROUS GAME 2 - WHEN THE CHIPS ARE DOWN by Chaoticpuff17 ○ TRAILER (mafia yandere!au)

Drum roll yall!!! I'm very much excited to announce that on the 4th of May 4:00 AM GMT simultaneously at 00:00 AM EDT - the trailer for ADG's sequel "when the chips are down" will be fully online and available on youtube ♥

Still can't get my head around how queen @chaoticpuff17 could create such thrilling and exciting story and therefore this trailer or project is defo not the last one you'll see from ADG universe or from Becca's stories, gorgey huns ♥

I rendered the trailer thinking "this is a hot mess" and then I thought "but i like it this way" so it is what it is, the point is - it is very authentic as this is, as of now (bombastic side eye), the first and only version.

Also - disclaimer: this is how I usually envision MC, your imagination can be, of course, different, but I chose to not cover her eyes or crop the videos with her, coz let's fucking admit, she is a fire bomb beautiful woman. the babe also uploaded another chapter (jcfhifhuihfibvishfgbqfhqf - excuse my excitement) recently so go and tune back to dark unsettling mafia universe she created.

And as I'm good witch Glinda, here is a sneak peak ♥

Lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

[imsadstuff]

today, my boyfriend told me about the voice notes he left for me during our break up. he wanted to call and tell me a million things, but instead he'd leave a voice memo in his phone, pretending like it got to me. made me sob like a baby, seeing how in love with me he still was 😭😭😭

so, I'm going to do a version of this for loving you is red, different voice notes Jungkook records for OC over the five years they're apart...

I'm going to tag the usual tag list, incase you want to be added, comment below!

(apparently there are some issues with replies being hidden, you can reblog to be added to the tag list too)

[jstkook]

Just Us

Paring: Jungkook and Jimin

Trigger warning: smut,21+,one shot,shower sex,dom/sub/switch,oral sex,blowjobs, boys kissing, fluff and smut,slut shaming,dirty talk,first person p.o.v.

A note: I don't usually get into sort of thing but lately I've decided to try something new and see where it takes me. I'd appreciate some feedback. If you liked it, if you didn't. I did have a beta reader and some help with wording.

Word count : 1,431

Jungkook p.o.v.

Shit, here I am after my very first solo concert tour. I loved every minute of it, but I'm exhausted. It's a lot harder when it's just me alone on stage. Jimin came with me. I'm so glad because I'm not sure I could have done it without his support. This has been a great run. Kinda weird without all my brothers, though, to be honest. As I sit here trying to come down from the high I just experienced. My are ears ringing, and outside, I hear fans screaming my name over and over. I walk to the window and wave, then, close the drapes. 

I'm drinking my 5th glass of highball and feeling pretty good. 

There's a knock at my door.

I didn't order anything. As I look through the peep hole, I see Jimin standing there. Of course it's Jimin. He always knows when I need him. As my heart races with anticipation like it's beating out of my chest, I open the door.

"Jimin ssi, hi." As I open the door smiling.

"Junggoo, ahh!" He says, hugging me. "Let's celebrate!" I can tell he's a little inebriated already as well.

"Already started." I laughed. Showing him the glass in my hand as I take a sip.

"Without me? Aww, man, I wanted to strut around for you naked and suck you off a few times, baby." He pouted.

"You still can." I smiled. As I sat down on the bed as Jimin danced around as he stripped off what little clothes he had on.

"For you!" He smiles and kisses me, twirling around as I slapped his ass.

He pushes me down on the bed and starts grinding on me, as we kiss some sloppy wet kisses. I can’t resist his dick on full display, thick and solid. So I take it in my hands and start to stroke it up and down between my fingers, starting at the base. He moans. I bend down, licking the tip with my tongue in circles around his fat head. I know how he likes it. He hisses, bucking his hips with the motions of my hands up and down. Engulfing his thickness in my mouth bobbing my head back and forth. Sucking on him and watching him bucking and throwing his head back in pleasure eyes half shut, really getting into it as I finally come back up and lick his head a few times, knowing he’s about to shoot it into my waiting mouth, I can feel him twitching. 

"Ahhhhh shit!" he moans as he lets go tiny ribbons in my waiting mouth. It’s salty and sweet, and I wasted no time kissing him, as I know he likes it, tasting himself on my lips as we kiss passionately and moan in each other’s mouths. 

He doesn't waste time as he goes down on me unzipping my pants and starts stroking my hardend legenth in his hand, looking up at me with stars in his eyes and licking his plump juicy lips like the little slut I know he is.

"You know how I like it, Jimin-ah. Shit!" I moan with my eyes fixed on him.

He continues stroking and licking my tip in circles, and I can barely hold myself together. I feel as if I'm going to explode any minute.

"Your mouth looks so pretty on my dick. Yesss! " I say bucking and hissing as he tales me further into his mouth, engulfing me deep in his throat.

Sucking it so good I could barely hold it in. I come over and over again in his mouth as I hold his head in place.

"You're such a fucking cock slut," I moan breathless.

"I'm not finished," he tells me. Smiling.

"Oh?" I asked raising my brows.

"Shh," he tells me putting his finger up and kissing me, tongue and all. I can taste myself on his juicy lips and I start to get really excited.

I start to throw off what clothes I have on as he gets ready for me.

"Top or bottom tonight, baby?" he asks me.

"Fuck me." I say nodding and getting into position. I hear the condom wrapper and resist the urge to watch him slip it on.

He gets behind me and begins slowly thrusting into me, holding my hips as we get in sync.

"Ummm…" we both moan at the same time as he thrusted deeper and harder. My ass hitting his thighs as his balls hit my ass harder and harder. I love that feeling. He's so good to me.

"You like that don't you?" he moans between thrusts and heavy breathing.

"I love it. I love you, Jimin," I tell him.

"I know, baby, I know," he answers.

My heart races faster and faster and I feel myself letting go as he does. Over and over, crashing into me. I can't get enough of it . He knows how I love it when he fucks me so good.

We collapse on the bed next to each other out of exhaustion as we attempt to catch our breaths, sweat mixed with come all over the bed sheets. The room smells of sex in the air.

We lay next to eachother falling asleep briefly. A while later, I hear him get up and go into the bathroom, and I hear the water for the shower. I go in and join him, standing behind him and kissing his neck.

"I was trying to let you sleep. I know how exhausted you are from this tour, baby. You need your rest," he tells me washing off his body with the Lofa.

"Umm, that ass looks so juicy right now." I tell him as he bends over for me. I slowly thrust into him as he puts his hands on the wall of the shower, as the water warm hits us both, and I thrust holding his hips as his ass hits my thighs over and over again. As I watch his back tattoo glistening in the water hitting his back. 

"Jungkoo… I… I umm!" he moans over and over whining like the little fucking slut that he is.

"Deeper?" I ask in a grunt.

“Yes, daddy, deeper, harder and faster!" he begs as I wrap my tattooed arm around his neck while he moans, trying to catch his breath. The more he squirms, the more I like watching him. It gets me off more. I love it when he calls me his daddy. I'm younger than him, and still he plays right into it.

I slap his ass with my other free hand. "Don't come till I say, you dirty slut," he likes it when I take charge. I like dominating his ass.

"Yes, Daddy!" he answers.  

"I didn't say the slut could speak! Did I?" I ask as I ram him harder. "You may answer."

"No, daddy you didn't not allow slut to speak." He responds batting his eyes. 

"Good, then don't!" I bark at him slapping his as and ramming even harder. It will probably leave bruises.

"Slut wants to come. May I please, daddy?" He asks looking back at me with pleading eyes.

"Oh the slut wants to come? I don't think that's a good idea. Not yet." I tell him playing him like a toy. "You're mine tonight!" I laughed.

Shortly after I can tell he’s getting tired and weak. And so am I. The grip I have around his neck losens, I tell him he could speak.

"Slut may come now!" I tell him, slowing down.

"Thank you, daddy!" he says as he lets go a huge gush all over the shower floor. As he kisses me.

"You're such a good little slut for me."

Jimin laughs fondly and turns off the water after having washed us all over again.

Taking our time, we dry off and Jimin goes in and  changes the bedsheets while I grab a couple of boxers for us to wear, matching ones, of course. 

I smile and go to him, handing him the boxers and watching unashamedly as he puts them on. He watches me too, and before I know it, he's pulled me into bed with him, snuggling me and giving me little sips of water.

As we flip through some random channels on the tv, and find a movie to watch as we talk about everything and nothing. Keeping our eyes on the TV but barely paying attention. I wonder if this is our future: the two of us together.  Forever.

I can't wait to find out. 

[sketchguk]

in my head; kth

➵ pairing: fwb!taehyung x reader

➵ genre: pwp (porn with plot), angst, college au

➵ word count: 8k

➵ synopsis: taehyung’s friends love you ー adore you. they probably want to fuck you, but they’ll never admit to it. instead, they’ll push taehyung’s limits in the middle of a frat party, testing just how close they can get to you before he takes you to bed in a fit of jealousy. and maybe, just maybe, one of his friends can have a taste too (if he’s lucky).  

inspired by thuy's in my head

warnings under the cut!

➵ warnings: unrequited love, commitment issues, dacryphilia, degradation (use of the word slut, whore, and pervert), fingering, oral (f receiving), spit kink, overstimulation, use of the color system, breast play, hand job, unprotected (jealous/possessive) sex, marking, impact play (slapping - face & pussy, spanking), breeding kink, choking, mirror sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, manhandling, mentions of intoxication (mc & taehyung are sober!), use of the word daddy, mentions of religion, ass play, mentions of dp, creampie

You can’t help but think that this is a terrible idea. The heavy bass and the sound of rap lyrics vibrate through the walls of the old Victorian house. Unfamiliar voices are muffled beneath the syncopated beats, and you can’t make out a single word. 

You’ve managed to escape the sticky, beer-stained floors and the heat of the frat party downstairs. Instead, you’ve sought refuge in one of the bedrooms, hand-in-hand with none other than Kim Taehyung himself. 

The space around you is dark, save for the dim lamp behind you. You’re propped on top of his tiny desk, careful not to knock over the expensive camera that rests beside you. 

“I thought you were gonna show me your new photos.” You pull apart from Taehyung’s lips, meeting his gaze between pretty eyelashes. 

Your words slur, finding it difficult to talk with his tongue in your mouth. A string of spit connects your lips together. It threatens to break loose the further you recline. 

With hooded eyes, he leans forward, chasing after your kiss. “What’s the rush?” 

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth as his hand wanders down to the hem of your dress, bunching it over your waist. The straps have already fallen loose from your shoulders, the top of your breasts spill out from over the fabric. 

Taehyung grips your jaw, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. His nose nudges against the column of your neck. A sigh falls from his lips as he lingers over your pulse point, his breath hot against your skin, teeth grazing. 

He glides a finger over the taut fabric of your panties. It’s soaked from your arousal, wet and sticky between your thighs. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he taunts with a crooked smile. “I’ve barely even touched you.” 

Although that may be true, you’ve been kissing for what feels like over an hour. 

In an effort to pull him closer, you wrap your legs around his waist. The outline of his erection leaves an imprint against the fabric of his sweats. It rests against your core, hot and heavy. You shift in your seat, desperately wanting him to pull your underwear to the side so he could stuff you full.  

“Who got you this worked up, hm?” Taehyung dips his head down to kiss your shoulder. 

His fingers squeeze your cheeks once again, and he angles your face to look him in the eyes, domineering. The hum of his low voice sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is dark and hazy with lust and desire. 

There’s a soft glow of light that surrounds you, almost like a halo. Taehyung thinks that you look the prettiest at times like this ー when you’re pressed beneath his weight, right in the palm of his hands. 

You meet his eyes before shifting focus to his swollen lips. He quirks his brow, and you melt in his touch. Perhaps you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long because you can feel your saliva pool out of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. 

Taehyung’s thumb swipes across your bottom lip, collecting your drool. “What’s wrong, love?” He tsks, tapping the side of your cheek. “You always have so much to say, but now what? Don’t tell me you’ve gone this stupid for cock.” 

A fervent whine escapes from your parted lips. Your eyes brim with tears as your cunt pulses with desperate need, aching to feel Taehyung inside of you, even if it’s just the tip. 

Taehyung throbs at the sight of your soaked eyelashes, but he pays no mind to your pleas as he sinks down to his knees. 

“Let’s try again.” He spreads your legs further apart, trailing kisses against the inside of your thigh. “Who made you this wet?” His lips hover over your panty clad cunt before mouthing against the fabric. 

“Taehyung, don’t tease,” you shake your head, babbling. “You’re the only one I want, you know that.” 

He pushes the cotton aside, revealing your sweet pussy to his wandering eyes. 

“I’m the only one?” In a deep voice, he hums against your folds. “Are you sure it’s not Namjoon?” 

You shake your head in denial. “Just you,” you say in a hushed tone. 

His fingers spread your lips apart, watching you clench around nothing. Taehyung lingers above you before releasing a glob of spit onto your core. It glides between your slit, dripping down your entrance. 

You spread your legs wider, making room for his broad shoulders. His gentle, teasing fingers trace across your sensitive lips before dipping them between your velvety walls. 

“You seemed to be really cozy with Joonie though,” Taehyung pumps two fingers inside of you, easily gliding between your soaked cunt. “You were acting like such a needy slut downstairs, I swear that you wanted to fuck my friends.” 

His jaw clenches. You can sense a hint of jealousy in his tone. You find that to be odd considering Taehyung is never jealous. 

He’s not even yours. 

Taehyung has always been difficult to read. More often than not, in the lonely hours of the night, you’re within an arm's reach, prepared to keep him company, dropping everything at his beck and call. 

After tangling between the sheets at the end of every night, he’d comb his fingers through your freshly-washed hair, careful not to linger too long on the hickeys that scatter across your collarbone. 

Meanwhile, you’d trace hearts onto his back, wondering what he thinks about when he looks at you ー whether or not your name sits inside of his head in that current moment, if ever at all. 

Time and time again, he reminds you that this is just casual. The two of you are supposed to let loose and have fun. 

Yet he holds your hand so gently when you cross the street, when you slow dance in the quiet of the night, and when he fucks you deeply and ardently into the mattress. After, he’d order Chinese delivery to your house, stuffing siu mai in your cheeks so that you would shut up and stop talking nonsense about paying him back. 

He even kisses your forehead and calls you his good girl after leaving love bites on your neck.

It would be impossible not to fall for someone like Kim Taehyung as kind, sweet, and humble as he is. 

If you ask him to be your boyfriend, would he laugh? Would he furrow his brows and wonder why? Would he utter a vague response? Something along the lines of “I don’t know.” He often deploys these words when he’s faced with questions he doesn’t want to think about. 

In your mind, the worst case scenario occurs when Taehyung breaks it off right then and there, asking you to leave. Meanwhile, you linger by the door, begging him to love you just once, and maybe twice ー Through the ups, downs, and in betweens. 

It never happens. You never ask. You never bring it up. You just go through the motions, settling for the warmth of Taehyung’s body, even if it’s a temporary fix. 

Lost in your own thoughts, you bite back a whimper. Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth. Taehyung grabs your wrist, placing it at the edge of his desk. 

“You weren’t this shy when you were whispering in Jimin’s ear ー when his hand was on your thigh, and when you were acting like a huge, desperate cock tease.” 

The possessive part of Taehyung’s brain takes root when he guides his hand between your legs, slapping your clit. Shuddering under his touch, you release a silent scream. 

Taehyung plunges another finger inside of you, stretching you apart with a steady pace. It feels like too much, yet not enough at the same time. Your head is spinning, body sensitive from the heat of his skin against yours. 

“I want to hear you cry for me.” His brows furrow. A look of faux sympathy crosses his angelic features. “Unless you don’t want my friends to hear you being such a whore.” He speaks so casually, as if he didn’t just drop another glob of spit onto your mound. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if Namjoon was here though ー watching you.” 

You shake your head, panting for air, trying to catch your breath as he curls his fingers inside of you. 

“Really? Then how about Jimin?” He taunts you so cruelly.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth, licking your lips before you can bring yourself to speak. It’s too difficult to form words when your mind is numb on pleasure, nothing but a steady hum of static. 

But if there’s one thing that you should know about Taehyung is that he is not a patient man (despite the fact that he’s been edging you for the better part of the last hour). It’s evident when he wraps his hand around your throat, bringing your attention back to his hazy eyes. He needs your answer, and he needs it now. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he says, demanding, squeezing the column of your neck. 

He’s obsessed with the way your throat constricts beneath the pressure of his grip as you swallow your spit.

“Would you prefer if Jeongguk was here then?” 

His lips curl into a smile as if he’s testing you, but you see right through his sweet facade. Kim Taehyung is nothing if not mean in bed. If you were to be honest, he would find a way to punish you despite the reassurance in his tone. 

After all, Kim Taehyung has never been one to show you mercy. He will spank you, choke you, and fuck you until you’re at the edge of your limit, simply because you let him. Because you love it, and you love when you’re reduced to nothing but a slutty little mess. 

“It’s just you, Tae,” you murmur weakly. “Just want you, not Guk.” Despite the affirmation in your voice, your walls clench around Taehyung’s fingers. 

Guk? Since when did you ever use nicknames with Jeongguk? 

“Love, we both know that’s not true,” he says, slapping your clit once again.

You curse under your breath. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you sob with tears streaming down your face, but you adore every second of it. Taehyung takes a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes before pressing a tender kiss to the apples of your cheeks. 

“I saw the two of you at the door earlier,” Taehyung begins, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, biting the flesh between his teeth. 

It’s true that Jeongguk invited you to the party. Actually, he asked you long before Taehyung had even brought it up. But no, Jeongguk is not your date and neither is Taehyung.

At the very least, Jeongguk had the decency to acknowledge you and give you an ounce of attention (Taehyung would argue that Jeongguk looks at you like he’s in love with you, yet you remain oblivious, chalking it down to being friends). 

The entire evening, you talked his ear off about your neuroscience research ー the idea of emotional numbness being a symptom of certain psychological disorders. It sounds depressing, but when you manage to break it down, comparing it to Widowmaker’s genetically modified brain chemistry, Jeongguk clung onto your every word. 

Not only are you so adorable, but so fucking brilliant. On top of that… you can unpack the lore of his favorite Overwatch hero for hours on end? You might just be the girl he’s been searching for in all of his dreams. It’s no wonder he looks at you with so much love in his eyes.  

Meanwhile, throughout the whole night, Taehyung was too “busy” to approach you ー only watched from afar. He can’t risk the thought of people finding out about your relationship. Rather, he was swarmed with girls hanging off of his arm, vying for his attention. Yet the only thing he saw was you. 

You finally had a moment alone when he brushed against your arm, asking you to trail him upstairs to “show” you the photos he took on his new camera.

And that is exactly how you found yourself in this predicament. 

“Jeongguk was so sweet to take off your jacket and offer you a drink.” Taehyung circles your clit with calloused fingers as if he has all the time in the world. 

These soft, gentle touches only mark the beginning of your punishment, and you’d be lucky if you could crawl out of bed tomorrow morning. You close your eyes, praying to a higher power that you’ll make it out of here in one piece.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” He murmurs against your jaw, pressing a kiss to your chin, barely missing the soft curve of your lips. “I’m pretty sure he thinks about you when he touches himself.” 

To emphasize his point, Taehyung glides his hand down the inner part of your thigh. Goosebumps ripple across your skin as you shiver in his hold. 

“What if Jeongguk was here, watching you beg for my cock, hm?” Taehyung hums. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

You whine desperately, saying anything that would please Taehyung despite how easily your body betrays you ー pussy pulsing with need, carnal and insatiable. 

Anyone could tell that Jeongguk has a huge crush on you. It’s in the way that he looks at you with wide, lovestruck eyes. He holds onto every single one of his words as if you’re rewriting the stars. Whenever you share a lame joke that flies over everyone’s head, he’s giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world. 

Truthfully? Nothing pisses Taehyung off more than that. 

Somehow, even the sound of Jeongguk’s name makes you clench around Taehyung’s fingers. 

“Do you want him to fuck you?” 

The image of Jeongguk making room for himself in your cunt makes you break into tears, sobbing. Or perhaps Jeongguk would be the type to take it slow, you can never be so sure. His pretty face is so deceptive. Maybe he would memorize every inch of your skin and make love in a way you’ve never quite understood. 

“Because I know that Guk wants to.” Taehyung says it as a matter of fact. As if he knows something that you don’t. There’s malice in his tone when he utters the nickname you’ve defaulted to. 

“Would you let the boys watch? Namjoon? Jimin? You know they’re quite fond of you, right? You might give them the impression that they have a chance with you because you’re such an easy slut.” Taehyung spins a dirty fantasy inside of your head while he rubs deft circles onto your clit. Your slick arousal seeps out of your pulsing cunt, soaking his fingers. 

“I bet you’d let Jeongguk fuck you raw too.” 

The innermost part of you thinks about Jeongguk losing his innocent image so that he could stretch you open and flood you with his cum, round after round. How he would plug your needy cunt with his length, forcing you to cockwarm him, locking his cum inside of you until he’s ready to ruin you all over again. 

How would Taehyung feel if he were to watch? You can’t decide if he would love it or hate it, and neither can you. 

Jeon Jeongguk is nothing if not kind, so surely, he could do you one favor, right? 

With the thought of Jeongguk stretching you open, your orgasm washes over you, and you tremble in Taehyung’s arms, consumed by your climax. You cry out, muttering apologies over and over again. Tears cascade down your cheeks, unable to control yourself. 

But perhaps you’re not sorry at all. 

That’s all it takes for Taehyung to latch his mouth onto your clit, sucking harshly on the small bundle of nerves. You buck your hips, wanting him impossibly closer, but his hands squeeze around your waist, pinning you to the table.

His tongue delves between your entrance, lapping the arousal that drips out of you. The taste of your cum is such a sweet reward, but it’s almost offensive how you could come to the thought of fucking another man, a man who is not him, but one of his friends and fraternity brothers. Even if Taehyung was the one to flood your head with thoughts of Jeongguk, he can’t seem to handle the truth. 

Maybe, just maybe, it’s because you could slip through his fingers and leave him at any point in time. How much longer can you deal with this lack of commitment ー no strings attached situationship? 

The gossip among your friends isn’t lost on him. He knows that they don’t like him, always urging you to step away. An ember ignites inside of his chest when he recounts a conversation he once overheard: ‘Jeongguk’s been asking about you. You should give him a chance, don’t you think? What if he’s the one?’ 

As if Taehyung has something to prove, he works you into overdrive, sucking your clit into his mouth as he rolls the small bundle of nerves with his tongue.

You reach down, gripping his hair between your fingers, feeling much too overstimulated after your first orgasm. Taehyung digs his face deeper into your pussy in hopes that he can elicit the sweet whimpers that make his cock leak with beads of precum. 

From beneath his desk, he drags down the band of his sweats, just low enough for him to pull out his dick. His hand wraps around his length, jerking off to the sound of your moans and the way that your pussy weeps for him, squelching into the quiet of the night. 

Taehyung eats you out like he’s starving ー messy and depraved. You’re dripping in arousal, completely soaking his chin with your essence. 

Your legs quiver, closing around Taehyung’s head as you approach your high once again. He circles his arms around your thighs, spreading them wide apart. You’re rendered immobile, forced to take him like the good girl he knows you are. 

He picks up the pace, forcing his tongue deep between your walls. 

Trembling in his hold, you tip over the edge with a sob that rips through your throat. Your cunt pulses as he laps up the cum dripping from your core. 

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, yet Taehyung has no intention of stopping. In fact, the pain drives him to work even faster. He swipes his tongue against your clit, sucking on the bud and working you into overstimulation. He needs to make sure that you don’t ever think about touching another man but him. 

He may not be yours, but you are his without a single doubt.  

Taehyung plunges his fingers back inside of you, massaging the inside of your cunt with delicious friction. It’s on the border of pleasure and pain, yet you welcome it as you ride out your high. 

“Taehyung…” You whimper in a weak voice, “It’s too much…” Once more, you tug on his hair, pulling him apart from your cunt, even as it pulses in his wake. 

But Taehyung can’t help himself, lurching forward, he wedges himself between your thighs. He needs to taste you, just a little more as if this is the last time he’ll ever have you. He kisses your clit, repeatedly, one smooch after another ー completely pussy drunk. He knows that you can take it. 

You slump against his desk, legs weak. But there’s nothing you can do. What Taehyung wants, Taehyung gets. And all he wants is to mark you, claim you, and breed you until you’re filled with his cum for days on end. 

Taehyung wipes his chin with the back of his hand, and it just might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He picks you up from beneath your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck. 

You’re no stranger to the bounce of his bed as he lays you on top of his covers. You’ve been there a dozen times before, having memorized the feeling of the cool, linen fabric against your exposed skin. 

Taehyung tugs on the neckline of your dress, revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes. He suckles on one of your pert nipples while twisting the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

Meanwhile, you reach forward, palming his erection through his sweatpants. He grinds against your hand as he hums into your chest. Murmurs of “mine, mine, mine.” 

His hand reaches down to circle your wrist before shoving them down his pants. He dips your hand beneath the fabric, guiding your hand to fist his cock, pumping his length without the burden of cotton in between. 

It’s heavy in your hands, long and thick. You can barely wrap your fingers around the circumference of it all. 

Taehyung shifts focus onto your neck, sucking love bites into your delicate skin. To fuel his ego, he needs the rest of the world to know that you belong to him. That nobody can fuck you better than him. Not Namjoon, not Jimin, and definitely not Jeongguk. 

“Tae, I need you.” The words are slurred coming out of your mouth. You’re delirious, yet you haven’t even had a taste of him. 

“You think you deserve my cock?” He tilts his head to the side, arching his brow. His question is rhetorical, yet you can’t help but nod with desperation.

It’s condescending and downright degrading, but you grow wetter upon tasting his arrogance. You should feel pathetic for wanting his warmth and his comfort, yet in this very moment, he is the only thing that you crave. 

Taehyung tugs his shirt over his head and drags his sweatpants down to his thighs. He slides his bare cock between your folds. It’s puffy and much too sensitive, but you love the feeling of his weight on you. 

He taps your clit with the head of his cock once, twice, three-four times. 

“Who does this pretty cunt belong to?” He doesn’t shift his gaze, even when your eyes roll back, consumed with blinding pleasure. 

“It’s yours, Taehyung,” you whimper, melting into the sheets. “I’m all yours.”

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear,” he says before tapping your bottom lip. 

Instinctually, you open your mouth, and he drops a glob of spit straight down your throat. 

Before you can even swallow, Taehyung is lining up his cock with your entrance until he bottoms out, leaving you with little to no time to adjust to his girth.

“My pussy’s all yours.” You manage to mutter a string of words, breathless, half coherent as he stretches you wide open. 

“Mine?” Taehyung quirks his brow. His jaw clenches. “Then how about I fuck a baby inside of you, huh?” 

If you had any semblance of sanity, your rationality would have spoken against it. But when Taehyung looks at you with such desperate eyes, almost animalistic, you can’t help but to wrap your legs around his waist, forcing his cock deeper into your fertile cunt, begging him to breed you. 

The squelch of your heat fills the otherwise quiet room. It’s verging on pornographic ー the sound of skin slapping on skin. When he nestles his hips against yours like two pieces of a puzzle, he groans against your collarbone, resuming his mission to claim you and make you his, ravishing your skin until a deep bruise forms in its place. 

He glides into you so effortlessly, his pace punishing. The slick of your arousal allows him to rut into you like you were made for him. By now, you’re certain that he’s fucked your pussy into the shape of his cock. It’s reserved for Taehyung so long as he’ll have you. 

He grabs the back of your thighs, folding you in half, right into a press, perfect for breeding. But not before roughly delivering a spank to the curve of your ass. The impact leaves a temporary mark, and you thrive off of the attention that he gives you. 

You’re so fucked out, you can’t think of anything other than coming with Taehyung’s name on your tongue. 

He pounds into you with a force that causes your body to inch up the mattress. The bed frame rocks against the wall, but neither of you care about the repercussions. Nobody could possibly hear you whoring yourself out when the boom of the bass is so loud downstairs. 

Would it really be such a bad thing if someone were to catch you? 

It should be humiliating how wet you are, soaking his cock like a bitch in heat. But in fact, you’re in love with the way he prods your cervix as he finds his home nestled inside of you. 

Taehyung grips the underside of your jaw, turning your head so that you can face the floor length mirror on the other side of the bed. 

His lips press against the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings against your blazing hot skin. “You’re such a good girl. Look at how well you take me,” he coos. 

You stare into your reflection, eyes meeting your own in the mirror. Your makeup is a complete and utter mess. Your mascara runs down your cheeks from the tears in your eyes, your lipgloss stained from all the kisses you’ve shared. 

Taehyung’s hips roll against yours, and your gaze shifts to the strain of his muscles. His back is so broad and so strong. His biceps flex from holding himself above your body. 

From this angle, you can see the way he drives into you. Your pussy can’t help but swallow him deeper and deeper, accommodating his length as it drags against your walls with a delicious, slow burn. He fucks you so ardently, he can barely pull away for long before burrowing right back into your core, settling into the deepest parts of you. 

With your eyes trained on the mirror, you can spot the faint love bite that blooms beneath his ear. Perhaps there is a small part of Kim Taehyung that does belong to you. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on your heart once again. 

Taehyung props himself up on his knees for more leverage. But before he can situate himself, he notices the small crack in the doorway, slightly ajar. Through the gap, he can see the wandering eyes of his fellow fraternity brother, none other than Park Jimin. He genuinely has no idea how long he’s been standing there. 

Feeling high on some power trip, Taehyung flashes an amused smirk at the man on the other side of the door, shooting him a wink as he plows his hips against yours.

There’s a small part of Jimin’s subconscious that makes him believe he should walk away and pretend that this never happened. It feels wrong to spy on his best friend splitting your sweet cunt in half, but he can’t seem to look away. The longer he stares, the harder he gets.

Maybe it’s the boost of serotonin that Jimin gets from the sight of your tits. They’re bouncing from the force of Taehyung’s thrusts, and he can only imagine how they would feel beneath his palms. Perhaps it’s the sound of your dulcet voice, begging Taehyung to fuck you deeper, spank you harder, and love you louder. 

Jimin has only ever dreamt about the sound of your moans, but now, he can hear them loud and clear from the other side of the door. 

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Perhaps this is a dream. Or maybe he’s a little too drunk at this point of the night. 

But when he looks up again, he’s met with Taehyung’s darkened eyes. Jimin’s mouth goes dry, wishing that he could be there in place of his dear friend. 

In all of his dreams, Jimin has never pictured you to like it so rough. You’ve always been so kind and so sweet, offering to clean the dishes among his dirty fraternity brothers. You’re so considerate to keep him company while he builds his Lego sets late into the evening. 

You’re practically the face of innocence. 

Now with this knowledge of you being a dirty, little whore, he can stow it away into the back of his mind, saving it for the dark and restless nights.

When Taehyung’s thumb meets your clit, you whimper his name. It’s raw, almost painful, coming from your scratchy throat. 

“Say it again,” Taehyung demands, tapping the side of your face with his free hand before gliding it down to your neck. “Say my name again. If you want me to cum inside of you, beg.” 

You cry out his name as your eyes roll back, his length prodding against your cervix, bruising the soft, spongy spot inside of you. Unintelligible murmurs spill from your lips. “I’ll do whatever you want. I just want your cum, I need it, please, please, please. Need you to fuck me full. I want your babies, daddy. You promised, remember?” 

Something inside of Taehyung ignites whenever you call him daddy. “You need it? Need my cum? My babies?” 

Taehyung picks up the pace, burying himself deep inside of you. His tone is mocking, and you fall apart to the sound of his voice. “What a needy fucking plaything.” 

He pays no mind to the way you shudder beneath him, tears falling down your face. He continues to maneuver you into a different position, manhandling your body in a way that has you clenching around him even tighter, sheathing his cock deeper between your walls. He hooks his arm beneath the bend of your knees, lifting your legs over his shoulders until you curl beneath him. 

You’re addicted to the way he fills you to the brim, splitting you in half. A ring of milky cream coats the base of his cock, revealing itself whenever he pulls out the slightest bit. It’s mixed with the saliva that he drops onto your mound, making the glide so effortless. 

Had this been any other night, Taehyung would not let you off the hook this easily. Instead, he would humiliate you into begging. Your face would be pushed into the mattress while he makes a mess of your pussy. He would spill his load inside of you while prolonging your orgasm, only allowing you to come if you beg for it. But tonight, he’s being much too kind in the presence of his guest.

Taehyung brings his hand down, spanking the curve of your ass. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” He groans against your lips. 

You shudder once again when he strikes your clit ー “This pussy is mine.” At this point, you would have thought you’d be used to it by now, but the impact continues to surprise you every time. 

He gives a harsh thrust into your cunt, deep and rough. Rushed murmurs of “mine, mine, mine.” For good measure, he spits on your face and slaps your cheek. Kim Taehyung fully knows that you do belong to him, and he needs Jimin to know that. 

Taehyung grabs your waist and flips you over so that you straddle his hips. He grips your jaw with a firm grasp, forcing your head toward the direction of the door. He doesn’t seem to forget about his dear friend. Because apparently, Park Jimin is as much of a pervert as you are. 

When you lock eyes with Jimin on the other side, you clamp around Taehyung’s length. 

He just knows that you love the attention. 

Your legs tremble on either side of his waist, and you want to collapse into his chest to hide in embarrassment. Humiliation prickles your cheeks, but you know there’s nowhere to run. 

As a reminder of his presence, Taehyung grips your waist. “Color?” All you have to do is say the word, and he’ll stop. 

You’ve expressed your interest in exhibitionism before, yet Taehyung has always been the one to keep your relationship a dirty little secret. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you nod your head in confirmation, cursing out the words, breathless. “Green.” 

“‘Atta girl,” Taehyung groans, squeezing your hips. “Why don’t you show Jimin how you ride?” He suggests, clenching his jaw. 

There’s an innate need to show Jimin what a pretty, desperate little toy that you are. So you bounce on your knees, fucking yourself onto Taehyung’s cock. 

Jimin can’t keep his eyes off of you as your tits bounce on full display. His eyes scan your body up and down, taking note of the dress that bunches around your waist. It’s the same strawberry pattern that you wore to Sunday service the week prior. 

He remembers how pretty you looked as you sat cross legged on the other side of the pew 一 when you had volunteered to pass around plates of food for the elders at the luncheon and when you had flashed him a gummy smile after pouring you a glass of orange juice. But now, the image of you in that same exact dress has tainted his memory. 

Your hands rest on Taehyung’s chest as you grind your hips onto his. With each brush against your clit, you shudder, slowly losing your senses from the mind numbing pleasure. 

Soon enough, you lose your rhythm, jagged and off-tempo. Your thrusts are much too shallow for Taehyung’s liking, your thighs burning. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. But you can’t help it when you’re a little too distracted by Jimin’s eyes boring into yours. 

“You can do better than that,” Taehyung growls, landing a sharp slap against your ass. His fingers dig into your waist. Your flesh gives way to his grip, dimpling beneath the pressure. 

“Tell Jimin how much you love being fucked like a whore.” Taehyung says, punctuating each syllable with a sharp thrust. 

Because you are constantly under Taehyung’s spell, you do as you’re told, whining out Jimin’s name with tears in your eyes. “Minnie…” Taehyung grits his teeth, hating how close you are to all of his friends. At the end of the day, you’re his. 

There’s no hesitation in your voice. “Love it so much 一 Love being Taehyung's slut. He fucks me so well, he’s ruined me for anyone else. I can’t- I can’t-” The sobs wrack through your body as the dirty words pool out of your mouth. “Please, Tae, I want to come so bad. I’ve been a good girl, please, please please- I promise I won’t act up anymore, I only want you.” 

Taehyung has trouble believing your lies. You’ve been anything but a good girl all night. The images flash before his eyes 一 you drinking with Namjoon, leaning into Jimin’s touch, giggling with Jeongguk. Fuck, the way you came around his fingers when he flooded your pretty little head with thoughts of his friend claiming you in front of everyone like a needy whore 一 it sets a fire ablaze inside of him. 

The only thing you’ve done that’s worthy of praise is making room for Taehyung’s fat cock inside of your slutty cunt. 

Taehyung forces two fingers into your mouth, demanding you to suck. You swirl your tongue around his digits, making them nice and wet before he traces them down your spine. He circles the puckered rim of your ass before dipping right into your tight hole. 

“Would you let Jimin fuck you here?” Taehyung asks, searching for the answer in your eyes. “You could probably come with him in your ass, no?” 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shake your head no. 

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t done it before, love. I know you can come as long as your holes are filled,” he coos. “Wouldn’t it feel so much better if you had two dicks inside of you? Sweet girl, I know you can take it.” 

You clench at the sound of his filthy words. Taehyung has never proposed a threesome before. He hardly talks to his fraternity brothers about you, whether it is out of privacy, jealousy, or embarrassment, you can never be sure. 

Drool starts to drip out of your mouth and pride swells up inside of Taehyung’s heart. 

He circles his arms around your waist, bringing you down to his chest. Digging his heels into the mattress, he bends his knees to thrust into you at a merciless pace. His perfect tempo hits your soft, spongy center with such precision. The head of his cock grazes against your g spot with every stroke, and you whine into his neck. 

Your eyes are threatening to close, and you find it difficult to catch your breath. 

Taehyung murmurs against your skin, reminding you to breathe. Upon hearing his calm voice, your chest heaves against his. 

“Come with me, come with me,” he demands, his voice breathy. “Show him that you’re mine.” 

With a few deep thrusts, you come on Taehyung’s cock, pulsing around his length. You clench around him so tight as though you never want him to leave. The sound of Taehyung’s moans are muffled by the blood rushing to your head. All you can hear is the thrum of your pulse, pounding against your ear drums. 

Taehyung’s hips still against yours as he grabs your waist, trying to find a semblance of self-control. He spills into your cunt with thick spurts of white, hot cum, filling you to the brim. It pours out from between your walls, coating the side of his length. 

Your breath is labored as you collapse into his chest, much too weak to hold yourself up any longer. 

When you look over at Jimin, there’s a dark, wet spot over the crotch of his pants. A small whimper escapes from his parted lips, his eyes screwed shut. 

If you did not have a modicum of rationality in your post orgasmic haze, you would think that Taehyung would offer to invite him inside. But as you’ve come to learn, Taehyung is not a fan of sharing what’s his. 

So when the show is over, Jimin is quick to step into the bathroom where he can touch himself to the fresh visual of you in your strawberry print dress. Perhaps he can conjure up the image of you on your knees, wrapping your pretty lips around his throbbing cock. He would die a happy man if he could paint your perfect tits with his cum. But for now, he’ll have to settle with the glide of his hand, imagining that it’s your tight walls sucking him into the warmth of your cunt. 

And once Jimin cleans himself up, he’ll be on his merry way to tell his dear friends about the best thing he has ever witnessed in his entire life. He’d be $20 richer after Seokjin coughs up the money he bet on your relationship. And maybe Jeongguk will finally come to terms with his feelings before he loses you completely.

Surely, when all is said and done, Taehyung has cleaned up the mess that he’s made, making sure that you’re happy and well taken care of. He kisses your lips and rubs your back, taking his time to clean you up. 

He’s extra gentle when he wipes a wet cloth against your swollen pussy. It’s far too sore after the rough pounding that he had put you through. Possibly bruised and broken, at least that’s how your body feels, yet you wouldn’t be opposed if he suggested another round after you’ve recuperated because you’re simply insatiable. 

Yet that moment never comes because the two of you tuck yourselves beneath the covers, making small talk until the morning rises. 

You never mention Namjoon nor Jimin. And you definitely wouldn’t dare to utter Jeongguk’s name. With sleepy thoughts and heavy eyelids, you simply let the night cut into the day. 

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a beam across the thin film of your eyes. You’ve been awake for the last hour, keeping yourself occupied by counting the beauty marks that scatter across Taehyung’s face. You’ve done it a million times before. You could probably point them out in the dark, completely blind. 

“Creep,” he mutters under his breath when he catches you staring. 

A chuckle vibrates through your chest as you playfully push his shoulders. He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, but you cage him in your arms, wrapping them around his waist, molding your body to his. Your laugh tickles the nape of his neck.

Taehyung tries his best to ignore the lingering scent of your perfume on his bed sheets. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the right side of his bed where there’s a dip in the mattress ー the same shape as you. 

He won’t even bring up your awful bedhead because he thinks it’s funny. He likes how he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. You’re at your prettiest when you’re beneath him, but also beside him. 

Yet if he were to speak of this out loud, it would mean that all of this is his ー that he has something worth losing.

“How about I make some pancakes?” You offer, wiping the exhaustion from your eyes with the back of your hand. 

Taehyung shifts in your embrace. He strains his neck to gauge your expression. “Pancakes?” 

“Yeah, you got any strawberries?” They’re his favorite. He may have mentioned it once or twice in passing between soft kisses and sleepy yawns. Something about it being a reminder of his grandfather’s farm in Daegu. “Thought I saw some in the fridge the other day.” 

“Don’t you have class soon?” Taehyung wonders out loud. He already knows the answer. He has your schedule memorized. How could he not? 

“I could be late,” you shrug. “Remember what I told you about Professor Lee? He’s boring anyways.” 

On any other day, Taehyung would have said yes without a second thought. But the fact that you’re willing to skip class doesn’t sit right with him. Suffering through medical philosophy 301 might not be that important to you, but… would you honestly prefer to spend your time making strawberry pancakes? 

Taehyung clears his throat. “Before I say yes, can I ask you something?” 

The air is thick. 

There’s hesitation in your response, but you nod nevertheless. “What is it?” 

“Are these just pancakes, or… is it something else?” 

You part your lips, ready to respond, but the words are stuck in your throat. The answer should have been “just pancakes,” yet you’re certain that it’s more than that. 

Perhaps it’s the casual intimacy or the domesticity. Maybe it’s an extra 30 minutes spent with the guy you’re half in love with. Is that too much? Are you too much? 

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” You decide to play it safe as if you don’t want to die on the inside. As if his answer won’t have your organs collapsing on itself. 

How the hell is Taehyung supposed to tell you that he wants more than just breakfast and half an hour of your time. He wants all of it and more, but it’s selfish to ask for that. You deserve the world, but he can’t give you what you need. 

Time and time again, Taehyung has said that this is just casual. No strings attached. But how could he let it get this far? 

There’s an adoring look in your eye that triggers his fight or flight response. He’s scared. 

“I think… I just want pancakes.” There’s a dull ache in his heart and a voice that’s screaming in the back of his head. “But maybe next time. You should go to class.” 

Little do you know, it took a hell of a lot of courage to say anything but “Please have me. Please hold me. I’m sorry.” 

You try to push down the sting of his rejection as if it isn’t a reflection of the love that you deserve. “Okay, so I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Taehyung curls onto his side of the bed, retreating into himself. The heat of his body escapes yours. His responses shrink, reduced to nothing but an “I don’t know.” 

You contemplate his cold tone and decide not to push any further. Yet you’re certain that you’ll keep yourself awake in the dead of the night by finding meaning in his silence. 

For Taehyung, it hurts knowing that he can’t be the man for you. When his efforts fall short of what you deserve, he has a feeling that you’ll slip through his fingers once again. Would that hurt more than pushing you away?

When Taehyung asks you if you need a ride back to your place, a vile feeling bubbles up in the pit of your stomach. You can’t quite explain what it is. Anger? Hatred? Animosity? The truth is, you could never hate Kim Taehyung. Not for all the dreams you’ve shared. Not for all the wasted time. Not for the things he never said. 

Taehyung thinks a ride is the best he could do if he can’t offer himself to you. If he can’t be your boyfriend. 

You simply decline. “I think I wanna walk,” you mutter. Perhaps a little bit of fresh air is exactly what you need. Some time and space to clear your head and just think.

You hum, flashing him a smile that isn’t much of a smile at all. It doesn’t sit right on your face, Taehyung thinks. It doesn’t reach your eyes the way he’s accustomed to ー like when you ace your physiology exam, when two bags of chips fall out of the vending machine, or when you wave hello to a stray cat from across the street. Even if Taehyung notices the ill-fitting smile on your face, he doesn’t seem to mention it. 

So you slip out the door without another word, falling apart in the usual way. 

It’s chilly in the hallway outside of Taehyung’s room. You shiver at the feeling. 

From the back of your pocket, you pull out your phone, drafting a text to Taehyung: “It’s cold out. You should wear a jacket.” 

You contemplate hitting send, but before you can decide against it, a familiar voice brings you to a halt. 

“Hey, Y/N, morning!” The sweet lull of Jeongguk’s voice resonates through your eardrums. He’s always awake early in the morning, but perhaps he never went to bed to begin with.

His hair is messy. Disheveled. He has a crumb of toast that sits pretty on the corner of his lips, and you don’t hesitate to dust it off. He flashes a warm smile at you, thankful for the action. 

As he often does, you think that he might offer a ride to prevent the walk of shame. If you ever decline, he’ll just nod his head, shrug on a jacket, and walk by your side to the foot of your apartment building. In spite of Jeongguk’s frat boy status, he may be the only decent member of the fraternity. 

But this time, you don’t decline. You tuck your head between your shoulders as you shrug. An “okay” slips from your lips, followed by a “thank you.” 

Maybe you could use a friend. Maybe you could have more than that. 

There’s a set of keys in one of Jeongguk’s hands and a knit scarf in the other. He wraps it around your neck so that you can brave the cold, fifteen steps to his car at the end of the driveway. 

But as he fixes your bedhead, pulling your hair to the side, careful to not get it caught beneath the fabric of his scarf, he chimes with yet another question. 

“Are you and Taehyung serious by the way?”

You shake your head no. “No, not at all,” you murmur, sullen. 

There’s a hopeful smile that affixes itself onto his lips. “What would you say if I asked you out on a date?” 

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | wedding special

Yoongi has done everything in his power to make your wedding truly special, what he couldn’t plan for was the rain. But fret not, a bit of rain will not make your day less special when it’s surrounded by friends and family. And your wedding night? Well, being pushed down into the sheets by Yoongi is easily one of your favorite things.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: the whole gang + family 🥰 → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, wedding!au, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 12.2k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Yoongi is so sweet 😭 You’ll see what I mean when you read, but he’s also a horny man that just wants to make the wedding day and night the best for his love 😭 Also, there’s still the usual sexual jokes and banter than friendcation is known for— there’s a few inside jokes, but you really don’t have to have read the whole series to understand them! → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, sexy lingerie, oral (male receiving), deep throating, multiple orgasms, sexual banter, pregnancy kink, spanking, pussy rubbing, nipple play and sucking, clit play, creampie, cockwarming, slow and hard sex, first a bit rough and dirty but then it turns slow and more passionate 🥹  → Author’s note: Remember when I did the winter special and I said that I would probably write more? Well, here I am with a new edition to Friendcation! This special is actually set before the ‘winter special’ 🤭 I do have two more specials planned for this lovely couple 🥳 I know that this is a special to a completed and established series, but I still do think that it kinda works as a one-shot still. So if you find this, not having read Friendcation before, I think you’d still be able to enjoy this, and if you end up liking it, you can always start reading the series (it’s filled with a lot of crack and sexual tension 🤭). And please don’t let the very sweet and romantic beginning fool you—this is very much still friendcation and the story will get filthy towards the end 👿 The taglist is technically closed, and I just went with the old original one— but if you want to be added to the taglist for the two other specials I’m gonna do, just let me know. And If you for some reason don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know that too! → Author’s note, pt2: So… remember how I said I would post this on the 20th? SURPRISE! I’m in my feels because of the ot7 photo— so here’s an early gift for you all 💜 Also, I did not really proofread this, simple because I’m too much of a happy mess to do so, so I’m sorry for any mistakes and whatnot. → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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This moment, bathed in magic, will weave itself into the very fabric of your memory, an indelible mark that time dare not erase until your very essence transcends this forsaken world.

But until that fateful day arrives, every precious moment enveloped in your boyfriend’s presence is a treasure to be savored—a sweet prelude to the boundless joy awaiting you when he finally becomes your husband!

At times, the surreal reality of marrying Yoongi, your once-friend-turned-best-friend-turned-soulmate, eludes comprehension, prompting you to pinch yourself just to affirm that this enchanting journey from friendship to love is indeed your reality.

A simple getaway—a friendcation with your best friends, and the simmering tension between you and Yoongi exploded like a tightly wound spring finally released, echoing the burst of a bubblegum bubble reaching its limit before bursting in a cascade of flavor and delight.

That’s precisely why you now find yourself immersed in the tranquil embrace of Seoul’s outskirts, enveloped by a forest alive with verdant splendor—a tapestry of towering trees crowned with emerald foliage, interwoven with lush grasses and bushes displaying an array of vibrant green hues, painting a picture of nature’s untouched magnificence.

Under Yoongi’s careful hands, string lights dance like fireflies, weaving around the sturdy trunks and graceful branches of the trees, forming a celestial canopy above. Amidst this enchanting glow, he has created a makeshift altar, a sanctuary for your love to bloom amidst the verdant embrace of nature.

Every detail meticulously arranged by Yoongi leaves you in awe, a tender reminder of his deep devotion—a gesture that fills you with a bittersweet mix of wonder and gratitude, as you realize anew the depth of his commitment to making your wedding day a cherished memory.

As the string lights cast their gentle glow, the forest transforms into a captivating fairytale image, each illuminated leaf and dancing shadow conspiring to steal your breath away. In this magical moment, Yoongi’s tender side shines through, igniting a newfound appreciation that fills your heart with a fluttering joy you never knew existed.

“Do you like it?” Yoongi’s voice, soft as a whisper, accompanies the gentle caress of his calloused fingers tracing circles on your skin. In that tender moment, as his touch soothes the frantic beat of your heart, you’re overcome by a puzzling mixture of nerves and anticipation—after all, it’s Yoongi, you don’t understand why you’d be nervous.

As he gestures towards the enchanting scene he’s meticulously crafted—the trees adorned with twinkling fairy lights, the stools arranged before the makeshift altar, even Holly parked to the side, adorned with ribbons and lights—Yoongi’s efforts overwhelm you with a wave of affection for the man who’s not just your partner but your future husband. Each thoughtful detail he’s woven into this momentous occasion stirs your heart, amplifying the love that binds you together.

With a tender smile gracing your lips, you lean in closer to Yoongi, your eyes reflecting the warmth of the fairy lights surrounding you. “I love it,” you muse softly, your voice a gentle melody in the tranquil forest. As you draw him nearer, your touch carrying the weight of affection, you add, “But I never knew this side of you—so soft, so tender. It’s like seeing you in a whole new light.”

He chuckles, that deep, resonant sound that melts your insides and sends your heart soaring, like a bird set free in the vast, open sky.

“You know I want our wedding to be perfect, or at least as close as we can get. Perfection might be an illusion, something that doesn’t truly exist, but damn, you’re the closest thing to it, babe. Anything for you.”

Your cheeks flush with warmth as you divert your gaze to the damp grass beneath your feet. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice tinged with emotion. “I love it.”

Yoongi’s gaze sweeps over you, his eyes lingering with admiration. He gently runs a warm hand over your flushed cheeks. “I love your dress,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “Everything about you is stunning. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You’re adorned in a simple yet elegant dress, the delicate lace you adore gracefully hugging your figure. To complete the look, a flower crown, woven from nature’s most exquisite leaves and blossoms, rests upon your head, making you feel like a woodland fairy in a fairytale.

You chuckle, warmth blossoming in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft and filled with affection. “You look incredibly handsome in your suit. I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Speaking of marriage— you did tell our parents what time the wedding is, right?” you ask, your voice tinged with nervousness. You glance up at the sky, the sun hanging low, a golden reminder that the ceremony is imminent. Anxiety bubbles within you as you realize none of your friends or family have arrived yet.

“Did you give them the right location? What if they can’t find us out here in the forest?” you ask, your voice rising with mounting anxiety. The nervousness gets the best of you, your heart pounding with worry as the reality of the secluded setting sinks in.

“Relax, babe. They’ll be here soon. The officiator will arrive, and everything will be fine,” he reassures you, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. As always, his calm presence grounds you, steadying your racing heart with just a single touch, or even the reassuring depth of his gaze.

Instantly, his words soothe you, the nervousness ebbing away with each syllable. You smile back at him, then glance down at your gown. It’s a simple, white dress—though you had wished for a different color, given how many traditions you’re already breaking. This fact has upset both your parents, who have scolded you countless times for not having a traditional wedding. But you and Yoongi are determined to follow your own path, and this forest wedding is exactly what you want—a heartfelt ceremony in the very place where your love story began.

As the distant hum of engines grows louder, you turn to see your parents’ and Yoongi’s parents’ cars winding their way up the uneven forest road. A rush of excitement courses through you as the vehicles come to a stop, and one by one, your beloved family members step out into the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, their faces radiant with anticipation and love.

Your mother rushes over, enveloping you in a tight, loving hug that fills you with warmth and reassurance. Moments later, your father joins in, his embrace just as comforting. Then, Yoongi’s parents step forward, wrapping you in their arms, their affectionate gestures bridging the gap between families. In a seamless exchange, your parents switch, their hugs crossing boundaries and symbolizing the unity and love that binds you all together.

“Is it too late to have a traditional wedding?” Yoongi’s mother asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she bats her lashes, her voice carrying a playful tease that dances on the air like a feather.

“Eomma! We’ve discussed this before. We don’t want a traditional wedding,” Yoongi groans, his frustration palpable as he defends your choices once again. You can practically feel the weight of his exasperation, as if he’s on the verge of pulling out his hair in sheer frustration.

“Yes, yes. I know,” she says softly, her smile tinged with wistfulness as she gently nudges Yoongi’s shoulders. Despite her words, her eyes shimmer with fond memories and unspoken hopes, casting a warm glow that belies her timid demeanor.

“Shouldn’t you just be happy that I’m getting married at all?” Yoongi frowns, a hint of playful defiance in his expression, but his lips curve into a crooked smile that reveals the warmth of his affection, his gums peeking through like hidden treasures.

“Yes, you keep surprising me. Next, you’ll give me grandchildren, yes?” she asks, her voice laced with playful anticipation, her arms enveloping Yoongi in a tender embrace. With a loving smile, she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Eomma, no,” Yoongi groans in mock disgust, though a playful twinkle dances in his eyes at the attention his mother showers upon him. You catch the subtle excitement in his voice, a reflection of the shared dreams you both harbor for the future. And as you exchange knowing glances, anticipation tingles in the air, as you are looking forward to all the nasty and dirty stuff you and Yoongi will be doing under the moonlight tonight.

You might just make a baby, who knows?

As you stand beside Yoongi and his mother, your attention is abruptly drawn away by the distant hum of engines. You turn to see multiple cars pulling up, their tires crunching on the grass as they park beside your parents’ vehicle. With each arrival, the air fills with a sense of excitement and anticipation, signaling the imminent gathering of loved ones to celebrate your special day.

You scan the arriving guests, and your eyes light up with delight as you spot your friends and Yoongi’s heavily pregnant sister. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she radiates a vibrant glow, her anticipation palpable in the gentle curve of her belly. You can't help but feel a surge of excitement and warmth, knowing that she’s on the brink of welcoming new life into the world.

Your gaze sweeps over the arriving cars, and your attention is snagged by one unfamiliar vehicle, its sleek silhouette contrasting with the rustic charm of the forest surroundings. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you realize that this could be the arrival of the officiator, the final piece in the puzzle of your wedding ceremony.

Your friends spill out of their cars, their laughter and excited chatter filling the air as they rush towards you and Yoongi. In a whirlwind of embraces and enthusiastic greetings, they envelop you both in a cascade of warmth and affection, their love palpable in every heartfelt hug and joyful smile.

Jimin strides in solo tonight, a vision of confidence in his sleek suit. Namjoon arrives with his date—the one he couldn’t stop texting since your vacation months ago. She exudes grace and warmth, fitting seamlessly into the group. Seokjin’s arm is wrapped protectively around his girlfriend, her gentle smile glowing despite the weight of her pregnancy. Meanwhile, Jungkook and Taehyung arrive without dates, their playful banter and laughter hinting at the unbreakable bond between them, yet leaving you curious about their romantic adventures, or lack thereof.

Surrounded by the warmth of your friends and family, your heart swells with happiness, as if it might burst from the overwhelming tide of love washing over you. Amidst the joyful chatter and laughter, your gaze falls upon Yoongi, his eyes alight with a radiant smile that seems to stretch from ear to ear, his conversation with his sister and brother-in-law a testament to the deep bonds of family and the anticipation of this special day.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden glow across the forest, the air seems to hum with anticipation, the vibrant hues of the surroundings intensifying under the magical embrace of the golden hour. The fairy string lights, once subtle, now twinkle like stars amidst the verdant canopy, weaving an enchanting tapestry of light and shadow that dances with the gentle breeze, infusing the atmosphere with an ethereal charm.

The officiator locks eyes with Yoongi and gives him a subtle nod, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. Your heart flutters with excitement, mingled with a hint of nervousness, as you realize that the moment you’ve been waiting for is finally here. Giddy anticipation bubbles within you, causing your palms to grow clammy with nervous energy. You fumble with the delicate lace of your dress, trying to dry your sweaty hands, your fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Your friends and family settle into the chairs meticulously arranged by Yoongi, their laughter and chatter filling the air with warmth and anticipation. The chairs are nestled on the lush grass, forming a cozy circle in front of two majestic trees adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft, enchanting glow. As your loved ones take their seats amidst the magical ambiance, you feel a sense of unity and excitement building, like the anticipation before the opening act of a grand performance.

With a sense of solemnity, the officiator leads the way towards the towering trees, their branches adorned with twinkling lights that illuminate the gathering dusk. You and Yoongi follow closely behind, your fingers intertwined in a reassuring grip, each step echoing with the weight of anticipation and the promise of forever.

As the warm summer air envelops you, carrying the hum of insects and the symphony of nature’s song, you can’t help but feel a sense of serenity wash over you. This is your element, being embraced by the gentle caress of nature’s embrace, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the forest. With each breath, you and Yoongi are united in your love for the great outdoors, and in this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of your wedding venue, you feel more connected than ever before.

The officiator begins to address you, your loved ones, and the assembled guests, his words weave a tapestry of emotions and imagery. He speaks of the intricate journey from friendship to love, likening it to the delicate bloom of a red tulip, its vibrant petals unfurling in a display of magnificent colors. His voice resonates with tales of enduring love, reminiscent of the fairytales of old, and despite your initial skepticism, you find yourself drawn into the beauty of his words. While your own love story with Yoongi may not fit the traditional fairytale mold, there’s a raw and genuine beauty in the imperfect, real-life moments you’ve shared together.

As the officiator speaks, your gaze naturally drifts to Yoongi, his hands clasped lightly in yours. You hold him with a tenderness that belies your fears, as if he’s fragile and delicate, but deep down, you know he’s as sturdy as the roots of the trees surrounding you, built to weather any storm. It’s evident in the strength of his embrace, the gentle yet firm touch of his fingers interlocked with yours, offering silent reassurance and unwavering support.

When your eyes meet his, you’re captivated by the intense love shining in his dark chocolate brown eyes, a depth of emotion you’ve never seen before. His smile radiates warmth, softening the lines of his face and illuminating his features with a tender glow. Dressed in a sharp suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, he exudes an effortless elegance that takes your breath away, his presence commanding attention and admiration.

As the officiator begins the ceremony, the world around you fades into a soft, low buzz, like the distant hum of bees in a summer garden. Despite the faint background noise, Yoongi’s voice cuts through clearly as he recites his vows, each word carrying the weight of his love, lifting you higher than the clouds. His words wrap around you like a warm embrace, grounding you in the depth of his devotion. When it’s your turn to speak, you watch the impact of your vows on Yoongi, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his trembling lip betraying the depth of his emotion. In that moment, the love he holds for you shines brighter than any star, illuminating his handsome face with an ethereal glow.

Yoongi says ‘I do’, and a surge of exhilaration floods through you, lifting your spirits as if you could soar high into the clouds. This moment, the culmination of your deepest desires and fondest dreams, fills you with a profound sense of joy and fulfillment. For so long, you harbored secret feelings for him, uncertain if your love would ever be reciprocated. But now, as you stand on the brink of forever, you’re overwhelmed by the realization that he loves you just as fiercely. In his ‘I do’ you find the reassurance that your hearts are perfectly aligned, destined to journey through life together as one.

Yoongi’s touch is tender as he clasps your hands in his, his eyes shimmering with an unspoken vow of love and devotion. With gentle precision, he slides a golden band adorned with small, glistening crystals onto your ring finger, each delicate touch imbued with the weight of a promise that spans eternity. As the cool metal meets your skin, a rush of warmth floods through you, a tangible reminder of the enduring bond you share and the beginning of a new chapter in your love story.

A smile spreads across your face, one of those ‘I’m stupidly in love’ grins that lights up your entire being. You’re acutely aware that your expression must look utterly comical to anyone watching, but in this moment, you couldn’t care less. All that matters is the overwhelming rush of joy and adoration that fills your heart, painting your world in vibrant hues of love and happiness.

As the officiator’s gaze falls upon you, a sense of gravity settles over the scene, and you realize it’s your turn to say I do. Locking eyes with Yoongi, you feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the very air around you becomes charged with anticipation. The once bright skies darken, heavy clouds obscuring the sun, and the forest is cloaked in the earthy scent of moss. Yet, you’re unfazed by the changing nature around you, your focus solely on the man before you. With unwavering determination, you speak the final words, ‘I do,’ and as if in response to your declaration, the heavens open, showering the world with rain—a fitting testament to the intensity of your love and the power of your union.

The rain pours down in torrents, soaking you to the bone, your once-flowing dress now clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Oblivious to the chaos around you, the cacophony of your friends and family’s screams as they scramble for cover, you lock eyes with Yoongi. His long black hair is plastered to his face by the relentless downpour, and yet, there’s an undeniable joy in his laughter that mirrors your own. With a shared glance, you burst into fits of laughter, the absurdity of the situation only strengthening the bond between you. As you slide the ring onto his finger, your laughter mingles with the rhythmic patter of raindrops, a symphony of love and laughter. In that moment, as the officiator pronounces you married and grants you permission to kiss, you share a tender embrace, sealing your vows amidst the exhilarating chaos of the downpour.

And kiss you do. With an urgency born of love and longing, Yoongi leans in, his soft lips meeting yours in a tender yet passionate embrace. Despite the rain drenching you both, you can’t help but chuckle into the kiss, the warmth of his touch melting away any discomfort. As he pulls you closer, his arms enveloping your drenched form, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, binding you together in an intoxicating dance of desire. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, the beat of your hearts echoing in perfect harmony. In the background, amidst the cheers and applause of your friends and family.

The kiss feels like a spell woven between you, a moment of pure magic and transcendence. It takes you back to the day when Yoongi proposed, a memory etched in your heart like a cherished melody. You recall the day vividly: Yoongi toiling away in his garage, hands stained with motor oil, yet his eyes ablaze with a passion that mirrored the fire in your own heart. It was one of those late nights, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil, as you shared takeout amidst the hum of machinery. Unbeknownst to you, he beckoned you over to the car he was working on, his intentions shrouded in mystery until the moment he kissed you—deep and fervent, igniting a flame of desire within you that threatened to consume you both. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might rip your clothes off and take you atop the very car he was fixing, the thrill of anticipation quickening your pulse. Instead, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with unspoken love, as he uttered those life-changing words. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was quintessentially Yoongi—unexpected, sincere, and overflowing with the depth of his affection. And in that moment, as you uttered the easiest ‘yes’ of your life, you knew that your love story was destined for greatness, forged in the quiet moments of intimacy and the simple beauty of everyday life.

The rain continues to pour down, drenching you both to the bone, yet Yoongi’s kiss remains unbroken, as if time itself has stretched out to accommodate this perfect moment. Each passing second feels like an eternity, your senses heightened by the coolness of the rain and the warmth of his lips. You can feel a deep, growing desire unfurl within you, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every tender caress.

“Hey hyung! You shouldn’t stick your tongue down her throat like that, it’s gross!” Jungkook’s playful shout pierces through your passionate moment, jolting you back to reality. You reluctantly open your eyes, laughter bubbling up despite the interruption, only to lock eyes with your mother. Her expression speaks volumes, a single displeased look delivering a silent scolding that makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment. The contrast between the fiery intimacy of Yoongi’s kiss and the sudden, humorous reality check from your friends and family fills you with a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a deep, abiding love for the man holding you close.

Yoongi pulls away gently, his hands steadying you as he straightens you up. A chuckle escapes your lips, quickly blossoming into full laughter as you realize the intensity of your kiss might have been a bit too much for your audience. The amused glances and knowing smiles from your friends and family only add to the humor of the moment, making you feel both exhilarated and slightly sheepish. The love and joy of the occasion, however, remain undiminished, as you and Yoongi share a private smile, basking in the sheer delight of your unrestrained affection.

Despite the rain, your friends and family rush towards you, their faces alight with joy and excitement as they shower you and Yoongi with heartfelt congratulations. Your parents, though expressing their initial desire for a traditional wedding, admit with warm smiles that this ceremony was uniquely beautiful and special. The mingling continues for a while, laughter and chatter filling the air, but soon, the persistent downpour compels both your parents and Yoongi’s to consider heading home. 

You embrace your parents tightly, feeling the warmth of their love despite the rain. They are the first to depart, leaving behind words of encouragement and happiness. Next, you bid farewell to Yoongi’s parents. His mother, ever the tease, turns back with a mischievous smirk. “Have a lovely night. I expect grandchildren!” she calls out, her voice carrying a playful lilt. You laugh, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement, as her cheeky remark adds a final touch of joy to this unforgettable day.

And with that, they depart, their figures slowly disappearing into the misty depths of the forest. You and Yoongi are left behind, choking on your laughter, the echoes of their playful words lingering in the air. The sound of your mirth blends with the soft patter of rain and the rustling leaves, creating a symphony of joy that perfectly encapsulates the magical moment. As you watch them fade from view, a sense of serene happiness washes over you, knowing this enchanting night is just the beginning of your beautiful journey together.

Yoongi’s sister and her husband approach next, their smiles warm despite the rain. You exchange heartfelt hugs, feeling the comforting swell of family support. “Thank you so much for coming,” you say sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. They nod, their eyes shining with shared happiness, before bidding their farewells and disappearing into the misty evening. 

The officiator steps forward, his eyes twinkling with genuine pleasure. “This was an absolute joy for me to officiate,” he says warmly, shaking your hand with a firm, friendly grip. “I rarely get the chance to oversee non traditional weddings, so this was truly special for me as well.” His words carry a heartfelt sincerity that touches you deeply. With a final nod and a parting smile, he bids you farewell, leaving you with a sense of profound gratitude for the unique and beautiful ceremony he helped create.

With only your friends remaining, they close in around you, a joyful swarm of affection and excitement. Their laughter and exuberant chatter fill the air, wrapping you in a warm, comforting cocoon of love and support. You feel their genuine happiness radiating towards you, each hug and congratulatory word a testament to the deep bonds you share. The moment is electric, their energy infectious, making you feel incredibly blessed to have such wonderful friends by your side on this unforgettable day.

“Did you bring your camera?” Yoongi asks Taehyung, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation. Taehyung nods enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Of course! It’s in my car,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“But do you really want pictures in this rain?” Taehyung asks, his brows furrowed in uncertainty, his concern evident in his tone. The rain continues to pour, casting a shimmering veil over the forest clearing. Despite his hesitation, there’s a glimmer of determination in Taehyung’s eyes. “My camera is weather-sealed,” he reassures, his voice tinged with resolve. “And I can always enlist Jungkook or Jimin to hold an umbrella over it, just to be safe.” 

His willingness to brave the elements for the sake of capturing your special day fills you with gratitude and admiration.

“Yeah, just some shots over by that tree over there,” Yoongi muses, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a tender gesture that sends a shiver of delight down your spine. The gentle touch of his kiss elicits a soft giggle from you, the sound echoing amidst the gentle patter of raindrops. In that fleeting moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the forest, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and contentment enveloping you, binding you ever closer to the man whose presence fills your heart with joy.

“Okay,” Taehyung says with a nonchalant shrug, his excitement palpable despite his casual demeanor. The fact that Yoongi had asked him beforehand fills him with a sense of pride, evident in the way he confidently reaches for his camera. You watch as Taehyung, fueled by anticipation, turns to Jungkook, a mischievous glint in his eye as he enlists his friend’s help. With a shared grin, Jungkook readily agrees, stepping forward to be Taehyung’s trusty assistant for this impromptu photoshoot. Together, they gather the necessary equipment—a camera and an umbrella—and set off towards the designated tree, their laughter mingling with the soft patter of rain.

You don’t want to capture too many photos, just a select few to encapsulate the ethereal beauty of this rain-soaked day. Hand in hand with Yoongi, you approach the towering tree, its branches adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft glow against the backdrop of the darkening sky. Taehyung guides you further away from the tree, his camera poised to capture the perfect shot. With expert precision, he explains the importance of separating you from the background to achieve a stunning bokeh effect in the photos. Following his instructions, you step a few meters away, the string lights creating a halo of warmth and intimacy around you both. As twilight descends, a magical transformation takes place. The gentle hum of nature fills the air, accompanied by the soft patter of raindrops and the distant chirping of crickets. Suddenly, tiny pinpricks of light begin to dance around you, their soft glow illuminating the darkness like miniature stars. You gasp in awe as you realize that the air is alive with fireflies, their luminous presence adding an enchanting touch to the already magical atmosphere. It’s a scene straight out of a fairytale, a fleeting moment of pure, unadulterated magic that you know will be etched in your memory forever.

Taehyung presses his finger on the camera’s shutter, immortalizing the tender moments unfolding before him. First, he captures you and Yoongi standing side by side, your expressions innocent and serene. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, Yoongi leans in and plants a soft kiss on your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The scene shifts as Yoongi gently turns you to face him, the world around you fading into a blur. With a sudden, passionate intensity, he captures your lips with his in a fiery kiss, the heat of it igniting every nerve in your body. Taehyung’s camera clicks rapidly, capturing each electric moment as Yoongi’s embrace tightens, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you, just the shared breath and the undeniable love that burns brighter than the fairy lights around you.

Yoongi’s fingers glide to the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips leave yours, tracing a fiery path down to your throat where he kisses and sucks, leaving a deep purple mark on your skin. A groan of delight escapes your lips, your senses consumed by his touch. The world around you fades into oblivion as Yoongi’s lips travel back up to your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing against your skin. He whispers sweet nothings, painting vivid images of all the things he wants to do with you tonight, each word stoking the fire of lust and making your pulse race with desire.

Jungkook clears his throat, breaking the spell of Yoongi’s intoxicating kiss. As you reluctantly pull away, your gaze lands on Jungkook, whose cheeks are flushed a deep crimson, reminiscent of that day he accidentally walked in on you and Yoongi in the garage. The memory flashes vividly in your mind—the startled look on Jungkook’s face, the awkward shuffle of his feet, and the embarrassed apology that followed.

“I’ll only take photos of you kissing,” Taehyung huffs, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he lowers his camera. “If you want more raunchy photos, you should hire a professional.” He places the camera carefully to the side, while Jungkook, his cheeks still faintly red, lifts the umbrella higher to shield Taehyung and the equipment from the rain. 

You and Yoongi both nod, a shared understanding passing between you. It’s so easy to get lost in each other’s embrace, to forget the world spinning around you. You offer a quick apology to Taehyung and Jungkook, but the sincerity is wrapped in the light-heartedness of the moment. Despite the raindrops falling around you, you all burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the patter of rain.

“But you are a professional photographer now, Tae,” you giggle, pulling Yoongi away from the tree. The rain continues to fall softly around you, creating a magical ambiance as you make your way over to the rest of your friends, who are still waiting for you with bright smiles and open arms. Yoongi squeezes your hand, and you feel a rush of warmth and happiness, knowing that this moment, surrounded by loved ones, is exactly how you imagined your special day.

“Yeah, but I don’t do that kind of photography. But I do know a guy who does amazing boudoir shoots,” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your eyes light up at the mention, the wheels in your brain churning with ideas. You turn towards Yoongi, your husband, a playful grin spreading across your face as you imagine the possibilities.

“Would you prefer photos of me in my wedding dress or in my wedding lingerie?” you ask, your voice a soft, teasing whisper. You notice how his pupils dilate, his breath hitching slightly, which brings a lovely, satisfied smirk to your lips. The anticipation in his eyes makes your heart race.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his eyes, quickening his pace to escape the conversation, his discomfort evident as he strides ahead, trying to distance himself from your playful banter.

“Wedding lingerie?” His voice comes out raspy, almost strangled, as if the very thought has taken his breath away.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod, a surge of excitement coursing through you, your heart beating faster with every step closer to your friends. You squeeze his hand in yours, feeling the warmth of his touch anchoring you in the moment, while the smiles of your friends awaiting you ahead fill you with a sense of joy and anticipation.

“Are you wearing it right now?” he asks, his gaze trailing over your body with a hunger that makes your skin tingle. It’s as if he could see through the layers of your wedding dress, his eyes sparking with curiosity and desire.

You chuckle, feeling a playful surge of excitement as you bounce in front of him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. With a coy smile, you purse your lips and quip, “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Your words are laced with anticipation, leaving him intrigued and eager for what’s to come.

Taehyung’s chuckle ripples through the air behind you, rich with amusement, while Jungkook emits a soft sound of discomfort, his unease palpable in the subtle shift of his stance.

“You can give me that photographer's contact info later, right Tae?”

You hear Yoongi’s voice behind you, his tone tinged with curiosity and a hint of excitement. It makes you chuckle softly, surprised yet pleased by his interest in the idea. You hadn’t been sure if he would entertain the thought of such intimate photos of you. But as his words sink in, a warmth spreads through you, and you’re filled with a newfound eagerness. You’ve always been curious about boudoir photography, and the idea of exploring it with him fills you with anticipation.

You finally catch up with the rest of your friends, who immediately turn their attention to you and Yoongi, their faces lighting up with big, joyous smiles. The warmth and love radiating from them wrap around you like a comforting blanket, and you can feel the excitement and happiness in the air as they welcome you with open arms and congratulatory cheers.

“This wedding is a celebration of love in its purest form,” Namjoon begins, his gaze sweeping over the enchanting forest setting. The fairy lights twinkle in the dusk, casting a magical glow over the scene. You can see the admiration in his eyes, knowing he envisions a similar backdrop for his own wedding someday. With his deep love for nature, this setting, with its lush greenery and serene ambiance, is indeed the perfect venue.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he adds, a big smile spreading across his lips as he pulls his girlfriend into his embrace and plants a tender kiss on her forehead. Watching them, you can’t help but think how incredibly adorable they look together, their affection radiating a warmth that adds to the magic of the evening.

“Of course. We’re just so thrilled to have everyone here to celebrate this special day with us. You’re welcome to stay if you want—sleep under the stars like we did on vacation,” you quip, a big smile lighting up your face. Your eyes glisten with the fond memories of those three magical months, filled with laughter and unforgettable adventures with your friends.

Jungkook is the first to look away, clearing his throat but remaining silent. Jimin, however, turns to you with a playful smirk plastered on his face. “We didn’t bring any tents with us, sorry,” he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Seokjin chimes in with a knowing smile, “We need to sleep at home, closer to the hospital, you know, just in case we go into labor. Can’t risk it out here.” His hand gently rests on his partner’s belly, and you can see the mix of excitement and nervousness in his eyes.

His girlfriend shoots him a stern look, “I’m the one going into labor. Me. I’ll be doing all the pushing and stuff while you just sit and observe.” She scoffs slightly, her irritation clear as she places her fisted hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and determination.

“What? Do you think I’ll just sit and watch you give birth? No, no. I’ll hold your hand, your thigh, whatever you need, love,” Seokjin breathes, rushing over to reassure his pregnant girlfriend. The moment his hands rest on her stomach, you see her shoulders relax and a hint of a smile touches her lips. His touch seems to melt away her irritation, and the love between them is palpable, a beautiful testament to their bond.

You smile, savoring the moments when you observe your friends with their partners. It reminds you of how grand and sweet love can be, or how it can bring laughter with its quirks. Your heart swells with affection as you watch Seokjin and his girlfriend banter playfully. Their lighthearted exchange makes you chuckle, resonating deeply and reminding you of the delightful dynamic you share with Yoongi.

“We have some spare tents in Holly that you can use,” Yoongi quickly interjects, pulling you closer with a firm yet gentle grip on your hips. His touch sends a warm shiver through you, grounding you in the moment and making you feel cherished. You lean into his embrace, smiling as you think about how considerate he always is.

Taehyung swiftly stows his camera away in his car, sheltering it from the relentless downpour, before rejoining the group. He inserts himself into the conversation with a playful yet teasing tone. “Look, we just don’t want to hear you have sex again, thank you very much,” he quips, his expression a mix of amusement and mock exasperation.

You shoot a wide-eyed glance at the guys, their cheeks flushing with vivid hues of embarrassment, vividly recalling the escapades from your vacation days. Your own ears burn crimson with the memories flooding back, a mixture of nostalgia and amusement swirling within you.

“Yes, it’s probably for the best, yeah,” your words tumble out in a nervous chuckle, accompanied by a nod of agreement. The memory of past escapades tinges your cheeks with a hint of embarrassment. Deep down, you're relieved by their decision, grateful to avoid any repeat performances in front of your friends. Their words resonate, striking a chord of truth, and you find yourself conceding to their wisdom.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, while your fingers remain intertwined with Yoongi’s. 

“It’s your wedding night. You should get to enjoy it unrestricted, you know what I mean?”

His voice is a hushed whisper against your ear, igniting a blush that creeps across your cheeks. Oh, you understand his meaning all too well. After all, he was the one who lent a hand in selecting your wedding lingerie. In that moment, you’re struck by a surge of gratitude for your loyal confidant — your ultimate ride or die. Next to Yoongi, of course; he holds a special place in your heart.

Jimin extricates himself from the embrace, and you catch the familiar glint of disapproval in Yoongi’s gaze. It’s a look he often wears, a silent protest against the closeness he perceives between you and Jimin. But there’s no cause for concern; Yoongi needn’t fear. Your affection for Jimin is pure and platonic, a bond woven with the threads of years of friendship and trust. Yet, you can’t help but wonder if Yoongi sees something you don’t, something lurking beneath the surface of your friendship.

Jimin then sidles over to Yoongi, enveloping him in a snug embrace, his lips moving in a hushed murmur that escapes your ears. Whatever secret message Jimin imparts seems to evoke a predictable response from Yoongi—a roll of the eyes accompanied by Jimin’s infectious laughter, a silent exchange that speaks volumes of their friendship.

“Time to head back,” Jimin announces, gently guiding your friends towards their awaiting cars. “We’ll leave the lovebirds to enjoy their first night as a married couple in peace.” His laughter ripples through the air, a contagious melody that makes you chuckle.

As they make their way to their cars, each of your friends pauses to envelop you in warm hugs and heartfelt congratulations, their genuine affection palpable in the air. With bittersweet smiles, you wave them off, watching their cars disappear into the distance.

You pivot toward Yoongi, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Now that we’ve got the whole forest to ourselves,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice, “what’s your pleasure?”

Yoongi’s smirk widens as he raises a suggestive eyebrow, raindrops still clinging to his skin and clothes. “What do you think I want to do?” he teases, his voice low and inviting. 

“Get in the van, babe,” he adds, his tone hinting at a world of thrilling possibilities.

Excitement and arousal surge through your body like an electric charge as you stride towards Holly, your hand eagerly grasping the handle as you step inside, ready for whatever adventures await with Yoongi by your side.

Yoongi follows you eagerly, the click of the door shutting behind him echoing the finality of the moment. With a soft sigh, you sink into the cozy embrace of the makeshift bed, the anticipation of the night ahead palpable in the air.

You lay down on the bed, smirking up at Yoongi as you lick your lips, trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in his mind. You wonder how he wants to take you, what he plans to do tonight. One thing is certain—you know exactly what you want to do to him.

Yoongi hovers over the bed, looking down at you with dark pools of lust in his eyes. Your gaze drops, catching sight of the bulge in his pants, and a soft, seductive chuckle escapes your lips.

“You’re already getting hard,” you breathe, your voice feather-light. The thought of having him in your hand, or even taking him deep into your mouth, sends a shiver of anticipation through you.

He grunts, “What did you expect? Now strip so I can see that lingerie, babe.” His voice is rough with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

You laugh wholeheartedly, the sound echoing in the intimate space, because that is so Yoongi. You know the thought of your lingerie has probably been driving him wild since you hinted at wearing it.

With a teasing smile, you rise from the bed and stand tall before him, well, not taller, but still. Holding his gaze, you let your hands travel to your back, finding the zipper and pulling it down slowly. The sound fills the van, and you see Yoongi’s brow twitching, his anticipation evident. He's probably doing all he can to resist the urge to ravish you right then and there.

You let your wedding dress cascade off your frame, sliding down your hips and pooling around your feet. Yoongi’s expression is priceless; his adoration for you is unmistakable, his lust palpable in the way his lips curl into a smile and his eyes unabashedly roam over your body. You bask in his gaze, loving every second of it. Your hands find their way to your breasts, groping and pressing them together. “Do you like it?” you ask, mirroring his earlier question, batting your eyelashes at him with a feigned innocence that you both know is far from the truth.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just stands there, taking you in. His eyes roam over your white lingerie set, lingering on the lacy bra that’s sheer enough to reveal the darker hue of your nipples. Delicate strings extend from the cups, winding over your shoulders and around your waist, accentuating every curve. You’re wearing a white lace g-string to match, barely covering anything, and to complete the look, a suspender belt holds up a pair of white lacy stockings. His silence speaks volumes, the heat in his gaze making you feel more desired than ever.

You chuckle softly, the sound filling the silence as he remains speechless, mesmerized by the sight of you. The power you feel in this moment is intoxicating, knowing you have him utterly captivated. Your eyes sweep over him, taking in every detail, and you lick your lips slowly, savoring the anticipation. Your mind races with wicked ideas of how you can tease him further, heightening the delicious tension between you.

“There’s a wet patch on your pants, Yoon,” you purr, closing the distance between you. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear, your breath hot and tantalizing. Your right hand glides down to his crotch, cupping his dick through the fabric, feeling the heat and firmness beneath your touch.

“Speechless?” you tease, your voice a sultry whisper in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. His response is a low, guttural grunt, and you smile, knowing you have him right where you want him. With a subtle increase in pressure, your hand caresses his cock through his pants, relishing in the power you hold over him.

“Gonna suck your dick, Yoon,” you whisper seductively, your voice dripping with desire. “Gonna make you come down my throat. You can make me choke on your cock. Then you can fill up my pussy, maybe get me pregnant, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Each word is laced with a potent mix of passion and anticipation, igniting a fiery hunger between you both.

You feel a surge of empowerment, like a femme fatale in control of her prey—savoring every moment of rendering him speechless. Damn, you enjoy it way too much. It makes you soak your panties. The anticipation ignites a wildfire of desire within you, causing your senses to heighten. You can practically feel the electric tension crackling in the air as you drop down to your knees, a siren of seduction ready to unleash your desires upon him.

With a swift and practiced motion, your hands move with purpose, deftly unzipping his dress pants and pulling them down, along with his underwear, revealing the object of your desire in all its glory.

His dick springs free, a tantalizing sight that never fails to ignite desire within you. You revel in its presence, appreciating its length and girth, knowing how perfectly it fits you and the pleasure it promises. In this moment, with his dick before you, you feel a surge of ownership and longing, your heart racing with a potent blend of love and lust, knowing that it’s now exclusively yours to enjoy.

You take hold of him, your fingers wrapping around his dick, and you give him a slow, deliberate stroke, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. Then, with a teasing smile dancing on your lips, you lower your head and flick your tongue across the sensitive tip, savoring the way he shudders with raw desire at your touch.

Your gaze meets his, a facade of innocence masking the minx within, especially when it comes to him. You lock eyes, finding his already lost in ecstasy, as you trail your tongue along his cock, savoring the way his breath catches and he bites down on his lower lip, unable to contain his desire.

“I want to hear you, Yoon. And I want you to fuck my mouth. I’ll let you know if it’s too rough, okay?” You don't wait for a response; his stunned silence tells you all you need to know.

You take him fully in your mouth in one smooth motion, your hand gripping the base of his shaft firmly.

You take him deep, your mouth accommodating his full length as you breathe rhythmically through your nose, ready to embark on your task. Working your mouth back and forth along his shaft, you elicit low, primal sounds from him. His fingers thread through your hair, anchoring you as you establish a steady, deliberate rhythm.

You ensure to maintain eye contact with him, locking gazes as you work your magic. His intense stare reflects his captivation with you, every movement you make drawing him deeper into the moment. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip, you create a vacuum, engulfing him in a whirlwind of sensation. He tightens his grip on your hair, emitting a primal hiss of pleasure, lost in the ecstasy you provide.

You take him deeper, pushing past the boundaries of your comfort to savor every inch of him. As he brushes against the back of your throat, you battle your gag reflex, determined to accommodate him fully. Finally, your nose nestles into his soft curls, and the heady scent of him envelops you. A primal moan escapes your lips, unleashing a torrent of arousal that courses through your veins, igniting every nerve ending in a frenzy of desire.

You maintain a steady rhythm, your lips and tongue caressing him with a practiced finesse. Yet, as your jaw begins to protest and your throat yearns for respite, you glance up at him, silently begging him to take control. Your eyes implore him, a silent plea for release, while a gentle tap on his thigh conveys your need for a change in pace.

“Damn,” he finally speaks, his voice hoarse with desire. Running a hand through his tousled black locks, he gazes at you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You look so perfect like this,” he continues, his fingers tenderly tracing the curve of your cheek. “With my cock in your mouth. Let me take over, babe.”

Relief washes over you as you relinquish control, allowing yourself a moment to simply savor the feeling of his dick between your lips, the weight of him against your tongue. It’s a welcome reprieve, a chance to lose yourself in the pure physicality of the moment.

With a firm grip on your hair, he sets a rhythm, each thrust pushing deeper into your eager mouth. Your jaw slackens, welcoming him eagerly as he moves with a primal urgency that ignites a fire within you. The intensity of his movements sends shivers down your spine— rough and fast.

Panting, he murmurs, “You in that lingerie set are really doing something to me,” his words punctuated by the force of his thrusts, each one harder and more desperate than the last.

Your eyes begin to water, but the overwhelming pleasure makes you love every second of it.

His breath comes in ragged pants as he locks eyes with you. “That suspender belt on your waist… you must be trying to kill me, because, fuck,” he groans. Sweat begins to form at his hairline, and the sight of his damp white shirt clinging to his skin makes him look utterly sinful.

“I want to fuck you wearing that so bad, babe,” he groans, his voice heavy with desire. You feel him twitch in your mouth and respond by suctioning your cheeks tighter around him, humming softly to intensify his pleasure.

It makes him shudder, and you can tell he’s close. Just a bit more, and you’ll have him spilling down your throat, you’re sure of it.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. I can’t hold back with you looking at me like that,” he groans, your name falling from his lips as he spills inside your mouth. Your hands grip his hips tighter, feeling him pulse as he thrusts a few more times, making sure you take every drop.

It tastes salty, just as always, but you savor it like a fine wine. When he finally pulls out, you make sure to show him your tongue, every drop swallowed, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, your panties already soaked, the wetness likely trailing down your thighs.

“Yoongi, I love you,” you gasp, breathless, your hand brushing away the tears that had escaped while he fucked your mouth.

“I love you too,” he murmurs tenderly, his hand cradling your jaw before his fingers trace lightly over your lips. “Come on. Get up and get back on the bed.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine as you comply. Rising from your position on the floor, you crawl over to the bed and settle yourself down, anticipation coursing through every fiber of your being.

Yoongi steps out of his pants with fluid grace, tossing his shoes aside before shedding his blazer and pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his naked form. You’re captivated by him, every inch of his body resonating with an irresistible allure. His skin, its familiar pale hue, speaks of hours spent indoors tinkering with cars, sculpting his lean physique with just a hint of muscle, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

As Yoongi draws near, he takes your feet in his hands, removing your heels with a gentle tug and allowing them to drop to the floor.

“What do you want, babe? I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, his eyes filled with tender affection, awaiting your heart's deepest longing.

“I want to have your babies. Like we talked about. I want that future with you,” you confess, your voice trembling with anticipation, your body arching towards him, showing him just how wet you are, a silent invitation for him to claim you completely.

“Oh, babe. You know I want that too. It will be a moment before I’m ready to go again,” he murmurs, his hand moving to your leg, his touch sending shivers down your spine as his fingertips trace patterns of intimacy on your skin, making goosebumps appear.

“Just touch me. I want your hands all over my body, please, Yoon,” you plead, your eyes locking with his, your voice a soft melody of longing, your lip quivering as you await his touch.

He traces the map of your skin with a feather-light touch, igniting a trail of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. As his fingers dance closer to the apex of your pussy, you hold your breath, yearning for his touch, but he tantalizingly skirts past, teasingly exploring every inch of your being before finally reaching your breasts. 

“Your boobs are so perky,” he murmurs, his touch tracing the delicate contours of your bra, coaxing your nipples to a tantalizing peak.

“No, they’re not,” you pout, feeling your pussy tighten and your body quiver in response to his touch.

“Don’t speak ill of your body. You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice a soft murmur against your skin as he gropes your breasts, his thumb tracing tantalizing circles around your nipples. Your heart races, torn between the desire for him to take you now and the intoxicating thrill of the teasing.

“And now you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice dipped in darkness and possessiveness, thick with lust, sending shivers down your spine.

You chuckle softly, a playful glint in your eyes. “I was yours long before we said ‘I do.’ Marriage didn’t change that, you know?”

He chuckles softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine, yet his eyes hold yours, intense and full of promise. “Oh, I know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your skin. “But now I have a piece of paper that says you’re mine and mine alone.”

You ask with a playful giggle, shifting closer into his touch. “Yoongi, are you possessive?” It’s more a statement than a question; you already know the answer. He’s likely the most possessive guy you’ve ever met, but it’s a quality you adore, one that ignites a wild, untamed energy within you.

“You know I don’t wanna share you with anyone,” he murmurs, locking his gaze with yours. The intensity in his eyes makes you wonder if he’s truly afraid of losing you, even though he shouldn’t be. You’ve loved him for so many years, most of them spent in denial, but they still count. His possessiveness only reassures you of the depth of his feelings, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You know I’d never leave you, right?” you whisper, your voice filled with unwavering devotion and the weight of all the years you’ve shared, your eyes searching his for the reassurance you know you don’t need but crave to give.

“Hmmm, yes I know. You love me and my big cock too much,” he laughs, glancing down as his dick twitches back to life. 

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” you roll your eyes, only to moan as he pinches your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “But I guess it’s okay when you can back it up.”

“And yes, I love you,” you purr, your voice dripping with desire. “Now show me why I can’t get enough of that big cock of yours. I’m so wet already, Yoongi. Touch me,” you plead, spreading your legs even wider, a desperate invitation for his touch.

He licks his lips, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Then get on your hands and knees and lift that gorgeous ass for me, love.”

You shudder, anticipation coursing through you as you turn around and lift your hips, presenting yourself just the way he likes.

His hands glide over the curve of your ass, sending shivers through your body. His fingers find the straps of your suspenders, tugging them taut before releasing them to snap back against your skin. The sharp slap makes you hiss in pleasure, each stinging contact like a playful spank that only fuels your arousal, leaving you wetter by the second.

He does it again, and this time, a needy moan escapes your lips, the sound of it echoing through the van and blending with the rhythmic patter of rain outside.

You feel his hard cock press against your ass, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. The thought of him entering you, filling you completely, drives you wild with desire. You crave it, crave him, more than anything.

He seizes the suspenders once more, pulling them taut, their snap against your skin echoing in the confined space of the van, a sharp punctuation to the electric tension between you.

Fuck. You’re probably dripping on the sheets now.

With precision, he adjusts his position behind you, his touch gentle yet purposeful as he shifts your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the curves of your ass before the tantalizing sensation of his dick against your folds sends shivers down your spine.

“Down,” he purrs, his voice low and commanding, as he presses your back and head into the sheets with the firmness of his strong hand, igniting a primal thrill that courses through your veins.

You comply, sinking into the plush sheets, your anticipation mounting as you feel his cock teasing against your slick folds, yet he doesn’t yield to the sweet surrender of penetration.

With each powerful thrust, his hands firm on your hips, you feel the friction igniting a wildfire of need between you, his desire branding your skin with each passionate press.

“Fuck. You look so pretty in this. So sexy,” every movement sends ripples of pleasure through you, his words adding fuel to the fire of arousal burning within. His praise ignites a fierce longing, amplifying the intensity of every thrust against your folds, like he was fucking into you.

Desire courses through you like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought in its wake. The sensation of his fervent thrusts against your skin is intoxicating, yet beneath the surface, a primal yearning gnaws at your core, demanding to be sated with the ultimate union of your bodies.

Surging waves of pleasure crash over you, catching you off guard as your senses reel from the approaching climax. His name escapes your lips in ragged breaths, a fervent prayer whispered into the fabric of the sheets as ecstasy dances on the precipice of release.

As his tip brushes against your sensitive nub, a wave of ecstasy washes over you, eliciting a throaty moan of pleasure. It’s almost overwhelming, the intensity of sensation sending shivers down your spine. Every nerve ending ignites with desire, leaving you breathless and craving more. Fuck. Why does it feel this good? The question lingers in your mind, lost amidst the whirlwind of bliss.

“Do you think you can come like this?” His voice is a sultry whisper, laden with anticipation, as he plunges deeper onto your pussy. With each forceful thrust against your throbbing clit and slick folds, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. 

You clamp down on your lip, fighting back the wave of pleasure that threatens to engulf you completely. 

Through a choked sob, you manage to gasp out a breathless affirmation, your voice trembling with anticipation and need. “Yes,” you confess, your admission punctuated by the primal rhythm of his thrusts, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

Every nerve in your body hums with a delicious tension, coiled tight like a spring ready to burst. With each electrifying touch, each tantalizing thrust, you teeter on the edge of oblivion, your senses ablaze with the promise of release. You’re on the brink, trembling on the precipice of ecstasy, and you know it won’t take much more for him to send you spiraling into blissful chaos.

“I’m already close,” you gasp, your voice a breathless plea, heavy with need and desire.

That admission ignites a fire within Yoongi, prompting him to alter his rhythm, trading speed for slow deliberate, powerful thrusts.

Fuck! His cock now pounds against your clit with even more intensity, sending waves of exquisite sensation coursing through you. It’s almost unbearable. It feels fucking delicious and you can’t take it anymore.

The moment is so intense, and you cry out his name as pleasure washes over you, without his skilled fingers or tongue touching you. It’s mind-blowing.

“Good girl,” his words of praise rain down on you like a soothing melody, even as he continues his slower thrusts, allowing you to savor the waves of your orgasm that leave you trembling with desire.

“Fuck, Yoongi. That was amazing, I—,” 

You’re cut off as Yoongi slowly eases his length into your entrance, the sensation of stretch mingling with pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. It’s intoxicatingly good, so utterly delicious, causing your fingers to clench around the sheets in a desperate grip.

“Fuck!” you pant, each inch he pushes in sending tremors of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending with a feverish intensity of lust.

“Shit, you’re always so tight. And taking me so well,” he praises you, his voice husky with desire as your body responds, your inner muscles clenching around him in a rhythmic dance of ecstasy, eliciting a deep, primal moan from him.

When he’s finally fully in, you feel a rush of relief flood through you, the sensation of him stretching you sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His hands roam your ass with a possessive hunger, seeking out the suspenders once more. As he pulls on them, the satisfying slap against your skin sends a jolt of delight through you, causing you to instinctively clench around him, eager for more.

“You really like that huh?” he chuckles, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and desire, “I do too. Seeing you like this, feeling you react to me—it’s intoxicating.”

“Yes! Just fuck me, Yoongi. I need you, I want you. Fill me up. Fuck me good and make me yours,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire, each word punctuated by the heat of the moment.

“What my wife wants, she’ll get. You can count on that, love. I’ll fuck you good, don’t worry,” he reassures you with a firm pat on your back before plunging into you with renewed intensity, his movements becoming faster and harder with each thrust.

You moan uncontrollably, the sound escaping you in a crescendo of pleasure, unabashedly indulging in the obscenity of your own desire as he drives you to the brink with his relentless and skillful thrusts.

As he strikes that tender spot deep within you, a surge of ecstasy washes over you, rendering you utterly powerless to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, each thrust opening you up to a realm of bliss.

“Shit, I’m happy that I’ve already come, otherwise I’d be done for already,” he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives himself deeper into you, each thrust a symphony of raw desire and primal need.

Your relief mirrors his own, knowing that this time together will stretch out deliciously, allowing you to savor every moment of his passion. The anticipation builds within you, a craving to witness every expression, every twitch of pleasure on his face.

“Yoongi, please, I wanna see your face while you fuck me,” you plead, yearning to lock eyes with him as he thrusts into you. You strain to turn your head, craving the connection, the intimacy of sharing this moment with him, body and soul.

He pauses, withdrawing his cock from you momentarily, his breaths heavy with anticipation. “Then flip over, love,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise, “Lie on your back, so I can see your face too as I make you mine.”

You comply, following his command eagerly, turning over and settling onto your back, legs parted invitingly. As he approaches, his dick in hand, slick with your essence, your anticipation heightens, every nerve alight with the promise of his touch.

“You look so gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he guides his cock back into your pussy, each inch a testament to the intensity of your connection. A soft moan escapes your lips, his name a melody of pleasure on your tongue, as you revel in the ecstasy of his touch.

In this intimate position, you relish the opportunity to witness his unraveling, to see every expression of pleasure etched across his face as he reaches the pinnacle of ecstasy. When he finally succumbs to the waves of climax, it’s a sight that steals your breath away, one of the best in this world.

As he fills you up to the brim, a surge of affection floods through you, reflected in the warmth of your smile. With deliberate patience, he establishes a rhythm that's both tender and intense, each deliberate movement igniting a firestorm of sensation within you. The tantalizing dance of his hips against yours is almost torturous in its exquisite pleasure.

“You’re so handsome, Yoon,” you praise him, your voice a breathless whisper. “The way you’re making love to me right now… Fuck, it’s so good, I love it.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a subtle sign that he might not last as long as he thinks he will. A smirk dances across your lips, silently daring him to prove you wrong.

He descends to kiss you, the connection between your lips deep and passionate, matching the rhythm of his slow thrusts. The intimacy of the moment envelops you, igniting a fiery passion within. As he trails down to your neck, his kisses turn into playful nibbles, then a light bite, accompanied by a low, guttural groan of pleasure.

As his movements become more erratic, you sense his dick twitching more, prompting you to inquire, “Are you getting close again, Yoon?”

His voice, husky and filled with desire, caresses your ear as he murmurs your name, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes smoldering with lust. “Not yet,” he breathes, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes rove over your body as his hands follow suit, moving to your breasts. He tugs at the lace, pulling the cups and bra up to expose your bare skin, wanting to see you fully, unobstructed by the fabric.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing over your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples, sending shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

With a teasing pinch of your nipples, he makes you hiss his name in pleasure, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he rolls his hips into you.

He moves down again, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, making you arch your back in delight. He swirls his tongue around the bud before sucking hard, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The knot in your stomach tightens, the sensation building rapidly. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge, almost ready to be pulled under, but not quite there yet.

“Fuck, Yoon. I’m so close,” you pant, your hands tangling in his black hair. You tug, making him release your nipple with a groan.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice dripping with desire and affection.

“Touch my clit,” you pant, desperate and so fucking close, craving his touch to push you over the edge and come around his cock.

Before he sits back up, he leans in to kiss you deeply, then his hand finds your clit, teasing it lightly before tugging at the swollen nub. As his dick hits your soft spot, the pleasure intensifies, and you know you’re on the brink of coming, seeing stars with every thrust.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rolling his hips into your pussy. His fingers work your clit with vigor, perfectly synchronized with his thrusts. The light pressure on your clit is just right, deep enough to make you shudder, your toes curling in pure delight.

“Yoon!” you warn him, feeling your body tighten in response to his touch. Then, like a coiled spring released, you cream his cock, his fingers still swirling slow circles on your clit.

You pant for air, your body thrashing on the bed, but Yoongi, skilled and attentive, steadies you somewhat with his other hand.

“So pretty. You’re leaking,” Yoongi murmurs, his gaze fixed on the point where your bodies are joined. You sense his appreciation for the sight, the way his eyes trace the path of his cock disappearing into you. Damn, you love seeing it too, and his fascination with your joined bodies sends a thrill through you. You can only imagine the mesmerizing image below, your cum dripping out of you while he continues to fuck into you.

Your pussy pulsates around his dick, a rhythm of its own, coaxing a deep, primal sound from his lips as he spills his seed inside your warm, welcoming depths, filling you up with each pulse of his release.

“Shit, sorry,” he pants, his grip on your left leg tightening slightly as he adjusts his position, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head, a grin spreading across your lips. “Don’t apologize for not warning me, Yoon. I don’t care. You can come where and whenever you want.” Your words are laced with desire, your voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver down his spine.

You pull him down into your chest, enveloping him in the warmth of your embrace, his head resting against the softness of your breasts, while you feel a mixture of yours and his liquid seep out of you.

Yoongi breathes hard, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his exertion, his ear pressed against your chest, soaking in the comforting cadence of your heartbeat.

“Damn. It hit harder the second time. Caught me off guard,” he chuckles against your chest, his voice husky and tinged with fatigue, a testament to the intensity of your shared passion.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, your hands soothingly tracing patterns on his back, eliciting a shiver from him that resonates within you as you feel him twitch slightly inside your pussy.

You don’t want him to pull away from you yet, so you hold him close, relishing in the intoxicating blend of his musky and sweaty scent enveloping you.

“Thank you, Yoongi. For marrying me, for loving me,” you start, your voice heavy with emotion, tears brimming in your eyes, each word carrying the weight of years of pining, love from afar and all the moments you’ve shared with him. 

He adjusts himself, his gaze locking with yours, “I should be the one thanking you. For loving me, for marrying me. For putting up with all my shit over the years.” His words carry a mix of gratitude and sincerity, a testament to the depth of his appreciation for your unwavering support and enduring love.

You chuckle softly, your eyes shimmering with affection. “Thank you for making today magical. With the twinkling lights and all the little surprises you had in store. You truly are the sweetest.” Your words are tender, carrying a warmth that reflects the depth of your appreciation for his thoughtfulness and effort.

With a soft smile, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of his love and gratitude.

As he draws back, his gaze sparkles with boundless affection, warming your heart and coaxing a smile from your lips in response.

“Where will our adventure take us for our honeymoon?” you inquire, drawing him close for another tender kiss, eager to embark on this new journey together.

“I’ve already booked it. You’ll wait and see, it’s a surprise” he declares with a grin, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. You’re left wondering if it’s a tropical paradise with sandy beaches or a lush, verdant haven tucked away in nature’s embrace.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

Did you like it??? Are you excited for where they’re going on their honeymoon? 🥹

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[nostxlgiax]

might not have (did not loose) | knj

title: might not have (did not loose) | knj

pairing: kim namjoon x reader

genre: drama, angst, smut (eventually)

word count: 6.1k words and counting

status: work in progress

synopsis: he's all she's ever known, til she knows nothing at all.)

warnings: descriptions of car accidents, descriptions of injury, depression, memory loss, temporary amnesia, mentions of medicine, flashbacks, non sexual intimacy, strangers to friends, friends to lovers. slow burn, eventual romance, eventual sex, (more tags to come)

"he feels familiar—" she explains with a frown. it makes her head too heavy and hot to find the words. "—like someone you've seen before? somewhere? everywhere?"

she sees him in the hall, talking animatedly in a way she wants to reserve for herself.

it's selfish.

senseless.

"—like someone you can't forget."

© copyright ciani jayde 2024

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note: hey there babes ! this is a [chaptered] work in progress that i'm so happy to share with you'll. if the aforementioned warnings and added tags look like your thing, let me know ! i’ll add any to the taglist. a masterlist of current, upcoming, and posted works will be created eventually; if you have any writing prompts you’d like me to fill, drabbled/request, send an ask ! ✧∘*

[farfromsugafanfic]

Rebound | Chapter Four: Shot Fake

Genre: College AU, Basketball Captain!Yoongi, Basketball Captain!Reader, Idiots to Lovers, slight Rivals to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: mentions of exes/relationships, sexual references/themes

Synopsis: You and Yoongi always catch each other on the rebound.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

You'd played in semi-finals the previous three years and every time the locker room beforehand was the same.

The smell of muscle rub and hot showers and the slightly nervous singing that filled the room as everyone changed and got ready. Semi-finals decided your fate, if you would even make it to finals in the first place.

You smiled as a few of your teammates burst out into song and dance as "Getcha Head in the Game" came through the speaker you'd set up to pump up the team.

Yet, you weren't quite as relaxed as the rest of the team. You'd barely been able to eat anything that day and your stomach was still turning. This was your last chance to earn a title for your team, for your school. Sure, you'd won a championship two years ago, but you weren't captain then. You wanted your name engraved on the trophy. You wanted to lead your team to a victory.

You looked down at the protein bar you'd found on your desk when you'd gotten there an hour before. You knew it was from Yoongi because he had written, "Good luck" in Sharpie on the front. You couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Yoongi sneaking into the girl's locker room before anyone got there just to leave you a snack.

It was the first correspondence you and Yoongi had shared since the day he drove you home from practice. Other than a few quick glances and the formalities of the sport, neither of you had paid the other any mind.

The boy's game was nearly over and you knew they were going to win. You'd heard your school's cheer numerous times and the muffled announcements whenever a basket was scored.

"Yoongi's doing pretty well," you heard Ji-yoo say.

"You must be pretty proud," another one of your teammates said. "Your boyfriend has been killing it these last few games."

"No, I'm surprised."

Silence fell over the conversation and you felt yourself unconsciously lean towards your open door slightly. You felt a pang of guilt at eavesdropping on the conversation, but the cement walls of the locker room carried conversations extremely well, that even without the music and your inching over you could almost fully hear.

"What do you mean?"

"I broke up with Yoongi. This morning."

Your heart stopped. She knew. You felt tears pricking your eyes wondering if it was possible to just sink into the hard cement wall and become part of it. Did Yoongi break down and tell her? Did someone see them leaving together? Oh God, had the locker room not been empty that night?

Your cheeks flushed as you ran through all the possibilities and remembered the night in the question. Even if Ji-yoo somehow found out, for some reason you couldn't make yourself regret it, which only made the tears prick at your eyes harder.

"Oh my gosh, girl! Why?!"

Ji-yoo paused. You were luckily hidden behind the wall, so she didn't see you as she looked around.

"I'm with Chan-woo now."

The other girls gasped and you tuned out their hushed whispers. The tears were suppressed by the shock and your glane wandered down to the protein bar. Had she done by the time he'd snuck that onto your desk? Was that the only reason he did it?

Your breath hitched as the final buzzer of the boy's game rang. You only had twenty minutes until your game and your heart was already beating against your ribcage in a terrifying rhythm.

You shot Yoongi a quick text.

"You okay?"

It only took him a few minutes to respond.

"I just won the game. Of course, I'm okay."

"I heard about Ji-yoo."

"Don't worry about me, are you okay?"

"As okay as I can be."

"Go out there and kick some ass, Y/N. Show Chan-woo why he doesn't deserve you."

 vVv

The tight black dress you wore was a far cry from the T-shirts and gym shorts you lived in otherwise. It felt nice though. Even you liked to dress up every once in a while. Seeing boy's player's jaws drop and eyes widen was enough of a reason for you change it up.

The party was already getting out of hand. Half of both teams was already drunk and the music had been turned up much too loud. Luckily, the large house that belonged to someone on your team's family was fairly secluded and it shouldn't end how many of these parties had ended in the past: with the red and blue lights of police lights.

Once you were spotted, a few of your teammates came and handed you a drink. You had no idea what it was, but it burnt slightly as it went down.

You'd won the game. By a landslide, in fact. Your teammates carried you off on their shoulders and elation filled you to the brim. You'd made it to finals. And, even if you hadn't, the post-semifinals party was legendary. It just may not have been so wild if either team lost.

You didn't recognize many of the faces there. You saw a few from your team and from the boy's team, a few cheerleaders and sideline managers, but nearly everyone else was a stranger.

The music suddenly cut and the room cheered. You realized everyone was looking in your direction.

"Give it for the team captains!" the DJ practically screamed into the microphone, causing you to cover your ears. The room erupted into cheers and you felt your face go red and your fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress.

You turned and got saw Yoongi behind you, his face also red and a shy smile crossed his features. After a minute or so, it all died down and the music started back up.

You approached Yoongi and couldn't help but feel a twinge in your stomach. He looked good. He wore ripped skinny jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black bomber jacket that was just slightly too big for his frame. Finishing it off, he wore a silver necklace that fell perfectly in the indent between his pecs and his hair was messily styled. You wanted to jump him right then and there.

"Hey," you said. "I never got to congratulate you."

Yoongi smiled. You noticed his eyes doing a quick once over of your own attire. He was quick to meet your gaze though, acting as if he hadn't been checking you out.

"Thanks, congrats to you too. I watched your game and you played well." He rubbed the back of his palm with his neck. "I said you didn't need those extra shooting practices."

You'd noticed Yoongi up in the bleachers. You caught his eye a couple times, but when you noticed Ji-yoo's flushes cheeks, you wondered if you were the only reason he stuck around to watch the game.

"You know, I saw a couple scouts from the Ravens there," he said. "They seemed impressed."

Your eyes widened, but not from the news that Yoongi had seen scouts from your favorite professional women's basketball team at the game. Just within your eye line you caught sight of Chan-woo and Ji-yoo. Chan-woo's arm was slung around her shoulders and you couldn't help but notice the dark bruises that popped out from the neckline of her shirt.

"Yoongi, let's go over..." You attempted to grab his wrist and pull him towards the other end of the party. Ji-yoo has just broken up with him that afternoon, it would probably hurt to see her with someone so soon.

You tried to ignore the own rumbling in your stomach, not just from seeing your ex kiss someone else, but also because you worried for Ji-yoo. Would Chan-woo break her heart too?

"Y/N," he said. "What are you doing?" He followed your glance and caught sight of the couple, who still lingered near the entrance. Chan-woo's hand now rested firmly on her ass and you couldn't help but cringe, feeling Chan-woo's hands and lips on your own skin again.

"Oh," he said. "Listen, Y/N, you don't have to try and protect me."

"But, you and Ji-yoo broke up today, aren't heartbroken?"

Yoongi's eyes darkened for a moment and you felt his hand creep to rest lightly on your arm, his fingers rubbing your skin slightly causing goosebumps to erupt even in the warm environment of the party.

"Probably not as much as I should be." You felt his breath on your skin as he moved close to you, his hands coming to your waist. "Come on, let's give them a show."

You and Yoongi danced, although you were both too sore to be serious about it. You noticed Chan-woo sneaking glances at you and it only made you want to grind against Yoongi to watch the other boy squirm.

"How far are we going to take this?" you asked, the palms of your hands momentarily pushing against Yoongi's chest. He looked down at you through his fringe of black hair. You recognized that expression, his mouth slightly upturned and his dark eyes appearing even darker.

"As far as you want," he said. "Do you want to make him jealous?" His hand brushed some of the hair that had fallen into your face while you were dancing. "He watched the game too, Y/N. He saw the way you played and how sexy you looked on the court. He'd hate to see me—"

You cut him off with your lips. It didn't take long for him to catch on as his hands roamed down your body.

You were just going to make out. That was all. Just enough to show you moved on.

Yoongi soon took control of the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth, and you stifled a moan.

You pulled away. "Let's—let's go somewhere else." You motioned to Chan-woo and Ji-yoo who very obviously had gotten a full view of your make out session.

Yoongi took your hand and led you to the edge of the party before he pushed you against the wall and continued the kiss, the intensity immediately returning.

"You know this isn't what I meant," you said, but you couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face.

"Mmm," was his only response before his hands lowered to your ass and pulled you towards him.

You worried someone other than Chan-woo or Ji-yoo from either of your teams would see. You and Yoongi were supposed to be rivals, essentially supposed to hate each other until finals. You weren't supposed to be making out with him or feel the rush in your head whenever you caught his glance.

If anyone asked, you'd just say you were drunk. No one could blame you, practically every girl on your team wanted to fuck Yoongi. No one would blame you.

"He's looks pissed," Yoongi said, pulling away and resting his forehead on yours. You caught the smirk that was on his face and it only made you want him to fuck you again.

You turned your head and while your body was trapped by Yoongi's arm, you could still see Chan-woo glaring at the two of you and Ji-yoo's face was flushed, her hand on his bicep obviously trying to calm.

"That day in the gym. He was mad cause I wouldn't sleep with him...if...if he thought I was going to—"

Yoongi was dragging you down the hallway before you could even finish your sentence. His grip was firm as he led you towards the end of the hall and into an empty bedroom. You collapsed onto the bed that's sheets probably cost more than your entire bank account. You tried to stifle your laughter and the adrenaline that ran through your body, but failed as you giggled uncontrollably.

You flung the pair of black heels off your feet and they landed a couple feet away. You were glad to rid yourself of them, wishing you had just chosen to wear Jordan's with your dress. Sure, it would probably look odd, but it would be you.

Yoongi fiddled with the doorknob, attempting to lock the door, but instead finding the lock broken. He shrugged and threw his jacket on the pillows at the top of the bed. He laid down beside you and you couldn't help but want to huddle yourself against his warmth.

"He looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of you," you said. Yoongi hadn't bothered to turn on the light, so you were just staring up at darkness for the most part. But, you could make out Yoongi's face and form beside you.

"Let him," Yoongi said. "We wouldn't have a shot at finals without me."

You chuckled. Normally, you would view his comment as arrogant, but it was true. Without Yoongi's leadership, the team didn't have a chance of winning finals. And you knew Chan-woo knew too. It was the only reason Yoongi didn't have a black eye.

"I'd feel bad if he actually did it though," you said, the words falling from your lips before you fully registered them. The darkness made you bolder.

"He won't," Yoongi said. "And, even if he did, it'd be worth it cause I got to see his face when I kissed you." You felt Yoongi shift on the bed, his body coming to hover over your own. His forearms on either side of your head, supporting himself so that he didn't crush you. "And I got to kiss you."

He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. They were barely there and you couldn't help but feel fluttering in your stomach as he pulled away.

"Yoongi, Ji-yoo's not going to see."

"Do you think that's the only reason I kissed you back?" he asked, his dark eyes trained on you. You could sense their disbelief as they raked across your features.

You stayed silent and Yoongi sighed. One of his hands rested on your hip and the other ran through your loose locks. His body was nearly flush against yours now and the weight of his body made you want to squirm.

"God, you look so pretty with your hair down." You were happy the room was dark and hid the blush that erupted across your cheeks. His breath was shaking as he spoke again. "Y/N, me and Ji-yoo have been on the rocks for a while now. Since before I slept with you. We were never good for each other. I liked the girl, but—"

Yoongi's lips attached to your neck and you lulled your head back, allowing him a larger canvas.

"But?" you asked, barely managing to get the word out.

"But, I like you more." His lips moved from your neck and to your exposed collarbones. Shivers ran down your spine and you lowered the straps on your dress, preparing to slide it off.

Taglist:

@limiworld @wobblewobble822 @wmyoons @sarcasticsweetlara @vickvx @baechugff

Add yourself to the taglist

[moccahobi]

Tangled Mess: Together

Summary: Yoongi finally tells Jungkook what has been putting distance between them. 

Paring: Hoseok x GN Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook

Genre: Soulmate AU, Grad School AU, Young Professional AU, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: A Breakup

Word Count: 590 words

A/N: I am so sorry for the consistent delays in posting! Life has been super hectic but imma try to get back to posting this series regularly! I will queue up a few posts so that even when life gets hectic again, there will be a buffer. Thank you all for your patience~

Tag List: @@daisies-and-dandelionpuffs

Part 7 << Masterlist >> Part 9

Yoongi was fretting. He knew he was but it was all that he could do to stop overthinking all that could possibly go wrong. He’d hurt Jungkook and would continue to hurt Jungkook. Tonight Yoongi would lay out his feelings and insecurities and watch as Jungkook gently turned him down and their friendship was irreparably damaged. 

Hoseok seemed to think it’d go well. Hoseok always seemed overly hopeful about his relationship with Jungkook. 

Hoseok was wrong though.

Jungkook didn’t like him back. Couldn’t like him back. Jungkook would be too kind to explicitly say that Yoongi’s crush made him uncomfortable and they’d slowly drift apart because Jungkook would stop initiating things. The friend group would fracture as people choose who they liked hanging out with more. All because Yoongi caught stupid feelings. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Hyung! I’m here!” Jungkook was entering slowly, taking off his shoes and jacket. He looked apprehensive and shy, especially as Yoongi looked at him like a deer in the headlights. 

They should have met at a cafe or something. Some sort of neutral place. But Yoongi was a coward who needed the comfort of his home to share all this. 

“Come sit down! I made you some tea.” Yoongi said, guiding Jungkook to the couch and handing him some tea. 

“You look nervous, hyung. Would you like to hold hands?” Jungkook. Oh sweet Jungkook. 

Yoongi nodded, but let Jungkook initiate, his hand a limp mass that Jungkook rubbed comforting circles into. The warmth of Jungkook’s hand was something Yoongi would savor for as long as he could. 

“So as I said… this distance is all because of me.” 

Jungkook nodded. 

*Gotta pull the bandaid off*

“It’s because I like you r-romantically and I don’t want it to affect our relationship or change the friend group. It is also because I’m shit at tough and emotional conversations and even when we are just discussing changing boundaries, I get so overwhelmed. It’s why I don’t date tons. Because it’s just so hard and tiring to share changes and I didn’t want to put that emotional labor on you. You don’t deserve it… but also I don’t expect you to return these feelings. Actually I am so sure that you’ll grow distant after hearing this but I had to share. I couldn’t let you think that you were the cause of this distance. It is me and my stupid stupid feelings. Stupid old me who needed some distance to not fall deeper for you. I know it’s so stupid and I am so sorr--”

Jungkook was wrapping his arms around Yoongi, holding him tightly to his (big) chest.

“This has clearly been stressing you out a ton.” Jungkook finally said, loosening his hold on Yoongi. Yoongi didn’t leave from where he was though, enjoying Jungkook’s warmth. 

“I get if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” 

Jungkook started laughing, his voice floating around Yoongi, “Hyung. I’ve had a crush on you since you first started complaining about capitalism. I kept on thinking about how smart and cool you are. And when you play piano? Or work out? You get so into it and so focused and I just love it so much. If I don’t want to be friends anymore it’s because I want to be boyfriends.” 

“Oh.” 

Yoongi slowly wrapped his arms around Jungkook.

“We will need to figure out how to chat about boundaries though.” 

“I… I think I could do that.” Yoongi nodded, pressing his face into Jungkook’s shoulder. 

“We will do it together.” 

“Together.” 

[kimthwariru]

Like the wind

pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

genre: smut, enemies to lovers, angst, collage au, rich kid!Taehyung

warnings: slight mention of religion and god

check out chapter 1 here

Chapter 2: Tell me pretty lies, look me in the face

Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them. Love and hate are related to each other in a complex manner;they are visceral. Your stomach twists at the thought of that person. Your blood rushes to your cheeks when someone mentions their name, the heart in your chest beats heavy and bright, nearly visible through your flesh and clothes. Every interaction spikes your blood with a dangerous kind of adrenaline, your body is barely under your control. You’re consumed, and it scares you.

That’s exactly how you felt about Kim Taehyung.

You can’t quite explain it, but even though you didn’t fancy him all too much, there was a part of you that wanted him near you. The mere mention of his name made your blood boil. Especially after that night.

You’d never felt this way about a person before. One minute you wanted to kill him the other you wanted to fuck him. Was there something wrong with you?

Out of all people, why him?

The thing that had been bothering you lately, the question that has been popping up in your head ever since that day;how did he feel about you?

He hasn’t contacted once. Not a single message, and you knew he could get your number if he wanted to, the thing is, he didn’t want to. If he wanted to communicate somehow, he would have, and that just confirms the thought that has been hiding in the back of your brain, too ashamed to come out because of how embarrassing it would be to admit to such a thing to yourself;that Taehyung only used you for his own pleasure. That he didn’t actually care about you, but only about what you did together. You were another victim that fell for him, and that frustrated you.

“Yo are you even listening to me?” Jin’s voice woke you up from your daydreaming. It was the first day of college, Jin was trying to explain accurately every professor’s background and personality. It was sweet of him to offer to help you out, but you didn’t really need it, especially since you were having an entire inner monologue about how much you fucked up things with Kim Taehyung before the semester even started. “Repeat what I just said” he ordered

“I’ve got to be honest…” you began, but before you could even come up with a poor excuse as to why you had been staring at the empty space for what was probably 15 minutes, Jin interrupted you.

“You weren’t even listening to me!” He whined

“Sorry, I have quite the busy mind” you chuckled and pushed his shoulder hoping he would brush this whole thing away and not ask any questions. “it’s almost 10, I’ve got to go”

•••

It almost felt like a dream when you took your first step into Hashfield college. You thought you were mentally prepared for what you were about to witness in this school, but you immediately felt your jaw drop when your gaze caught on a striking woman with . . . questionable style. She wore a mink shawl in September, over a thin olive-green dress, and thigh-high boots. Long blonde hair fell in smooth waves, and with her fake eyelashes and large hoop earrings, she was like an ad to the seventies era. And, as if she wasn’t doing her job well enough, she blew a pink bubble and popped it, her eyes narrowing on you like you were the one whose style was four decades too late.

Now, judging someone based on how they dressed for school was not a habit of yours, but the attitude she was wearing along with her outfit was definitely annoying you a bit.

Just by the way she made a grimace at a couple of girls that simply passed by her, minding their own business (an asset very rare for insiders) screamed what type of girl she was.

You know the kind, probably a cheerleader, or a leader in some kind of attention seeking club, popular, possibly had every jock wrapped around her fingers. These type of girls, they never leave high school, they never abandon that mindset, it stays with them. Mean, cavalier, superficial... The kind who doesn’t have a thought stay in her head too long or else she needs a nap. If polar opposites were ever in the same room, it was her and you, undoubtedly.

She was surrounded by 2 fit guys and a red head that was carrying a handbag that matched hers. If she was Regina George then that was definitely Gretchen Wieners.To your disappointment, you watched as a very familiar back approached them. Kim Taehyung. Of fucking course he hanged out with that type of crowd.

The fact that you had to walk passed them to get to your class seemed like a form of torture. You wish the earth would just open in two, and shallow you in. You felt your heart beat faster and faster, and you tried to move quickly to avoid them like they were a bunch of hyenas and you were a sheep whose survival instincts had kicked in. As if things couldn’t get any worse, just when you were about to surpass them, thinking you’ve succeeded in staying invisible and out of Taehyung’s sight, you hear a male voice calling your name

“Y/n!! Surprised you actually showed up. Hope this sight lasts” Jungkook’s voice made a bunch of slurs rush to your mind.

You hated the fact that your gaze immediately met Taehyung’s, as if it was reaching out to him, or even worse, searching for him. He stood there, simply wearing gray nike sweatpants and a white Celine t-shirt, yet you swear he looked a hundred times better than any model you’ve ever seen. He was larger than life in this hallway. Or maybe, this hall was just small? No, it looked like a normal-sized hallway. Ugh, get a grip.

“Hoped you’d chicken out last minute” Taehyung’s indifferent voice ran down your spine, with a strange thrill following in its wake. You’d never admit it, but you had strangely longed for the the alluring feeling his voice gave you.

“Glad that my presence made all of you so excited” you scoffed

“Excited is kind of overselling it, don’t you think?”Taehyung answered almost immediately.

“I’d argue differently” You gave him a look that conveyed;you were definitely excited when you went down on me the other night, Kim Taehyung.

The blonde girl pursed her lips in annoyance when all of the attention had shifted from her to you “Excuse me, who even are you?” She regarded you like someone would watch Animal Planet—like you were another species and possibly dull entertainment.

“I really need to get to class-” You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks when Jungkook’s elbow rested on your shoulder out of the blue.

All these years had passed since the last time you were this close to Jeon Jungkook, however his aura had remained the same. Cold, alarming yet somehow attractive. You caught a glimpse of Taehyung’s eyebrow raising slightly. Almost as if he was jealous “She’s Y/N” Jungkook said “The outsider”

The girl’s face light up in surprise, like she had just met someone from a different planet “Incredible” A judgmental eye look traveled carefully from top to bottom. Your insides were flaming in anger, what was she looking at? “Never seen one so up close before. You’re quite the talk these days.” A condescending smile painted her rich blonde girl face. “I mean an outsider!. In Hashfield? It’s wild”

You swallowed your pride knowing that arguing with these types of girls would only do you harm. You took one last look at Taehyung but the minute your eyes locked he turned his head to the side, as if he was embarrassed to even look at you.

Strange. You’ve never seen him like this before.

“As I was saying, I really need to get to class.” Your tone cold and indifferent, completely masking the wide range of emotions you were experiencing all at once.

•••

You never really understood the way that some people romanticized university life.

In movies and television shows, it’s all soft acoustic indie music playing over the image of some girl reading in a library, and an attractive mysterious guy gazing at her from afar, time seemed to have almost stopped as he was slowly falling in love with her.

Reality was far less idyllic.

Studying at the library was a battle between you and your attention span, the constant whispers exchanged between two annoying friends that weren’t aiding your situation at all, and the long ass paragraphs that became intelligible after four sentences, so you had to restart again from the beginning a few times before you read through the whole thing—still not understanding half of it nonetheless.

After what seemed like an hour of struggling to comprehend the difference between salve and salvete you realized Latin would probably be a bit more difficult than you had initially expected. You got up and paced towards one of the many enormous bookshelves to grab a book called “The modern guide to the not so modern Latin” this should help, you thought.

“You going to stand there and stare at that book all day, or are you going to move? Pretty sure just looking at it won’t win you any points anyway” the smooth, low, familiar voice that left Taehyung’s downturned mouth caught you off guard. You immediately jerked your head up to face him. Messy dark curls fell in his eyes accompanied with unexpectedly delicate features and cold, somewhat impatient gaze.

You blinked at him blankly, your stomach dipped like a tilt-a-whirl. You were finally alone with him for the first time after that night, and just as the smell of freshly baked sweet potatoes with turkey brought you back to a Christmas dinner with your mom and aunt, his cologne brought you back to when he was all over you, kissing your neck. “Pretty sure you’re not getting any extra points for being a pain in the ass either, but hey, look at you” you replied quickly, finding your tongue and only narrowly fighting back the annoyance that threatened to seep into your tone.

He replied by simply curling his lips up slightly, almost as if he was amused by your response. His eyes flickered up to the bookshelf as he peeled his attention from you, probably scanning for some kind of book ad you took a moment to admire his sharp jawline. When he’d finally spotted it, he took a step forward and as if you were the same poles of a magnet, you took one back. He chuckled at your obvious try to avoid him and extended his right hand to grab a book that was titled “Everything and nothing about the history of religion”

“Didn’t have you for a guy that would read this stuff, thought you said you lost God a long time ago”

You watched as he quirked a dark eyebrow “Guess you haven’t forgotten everything about me” He slipped one hand into his pocket as his gaze fell down your body “You know, there’s a lot of time to read in here, and I’ve read it all” he sighted “Talmud, Torah, Quran, Tae Te Ching” he smiled at you “Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, Jainism. Figured if I was looking for God, I should look everywhere.” He made a pause “Came out of that an atheist” he shrugged his shoulders

“Bet that’s a story” you said, gesturing to the book he was holding

“It is and it isn’t. I’m just in the middle of a project right now, besides, history behind religion was always more fascinating to me than the religion itself”

“Oh right, well, that sounds interesting, I’ll leave you to it then” Really? You couldn’t think of a less idiotic response? He just opened up about something clearly personal and you were too awkward to keep a normal conversation flow going? Embarrassed, you took a step to go around him and completely disappear—but, before you could, something grabbed your wrist.

He grabbed your wrist.

His grip felt like a band of fire; rough, calloused fire. A cool breath of fear mixed with something boiling hot leaked into your bloodstream. He stood only a few centimeters away from you, his grip the only thing connecting the two of you.

“Just so I know, are we going to pretend that night never happened?” his deep voice reached your ears

“What?” You breathed, your train of thought lost because of the hand wrapped around your wrist. It wasn’t a hard grip, but it was heavy, firm, immovable. It made you aware of how much smaller you were, how unnerved and out of place you felt. How you couldn’t leave unless he chose to release you.

He took a step closer as he watched you with an inquisitive gaze. Your heart felt close to stopping and your skin was burning up. “Are you going to pretend my dick wasn’t inside your mouth a few days ago?” he lowered his voice and you felt like you were about to pass out.

“I don’t know, are you going to pretend you weren’t in between my legs?” You managed to say and tried to pull your wrist away but he didn’t let you go.

Your pulse fluttered when his thumb brushed your knuckles. A smile painted all over his face like he had just done something he was proud of. “You know, if you want another round, all you have to do is ask”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” You said, breathing out an annoyed sigh as you brushed a piece of hair back from your face “Stop treating me like some girl that’s obsessed with you” you tried to free yourself from his grip “Let go!”

His gaze came back to your face, and you looked at each other for a moment. His grip slipped down your wrist, palm, fingers. The rough pads of his fingertips brushed your softer ones, and made your heart skip a beat. “I don't regret a single second I've spent with you, do you?”

What the hell? That was the last thing you expected to hear from his mouth and you didn’t know how you were supposed to respond. “Is this one of your sick jokes? Pretending to mean all these things when in reality all you want to see is how l’ll react? Because I’m tired of playing this game Taehyung, not this time, not with you.”

“No games” he pulled you even closer to his body “can’t you just listen to me?”

“I would if you talked to me. Do you know why I always need to have my guard up when it comes to you? Don’t you remember how embarrassed I was when you played that whole prank with Jungkook?” You pushed him away “Asshole, what makes you think it’s ok to play with people’s feelings like that?”

Two years ago. Jungkook was the only person you’d talk to, he was kind and seemed to like everything you did. The day after you’d confessed your feelings for him, you found out that the whole thing, Jungkook hanging out with you and pretending to like you, was a whole show Taehyung had put up. He’d made Jungkook do it. How dare he play with someone’s heart like that? What if all this was set up by him as well? You could never be too sure with him.

“Y/n, about that-“

“No. I’m done with you and your excuses. Just leave me alone” You cut him off “That night, I was drunk, and horny, and out of my head. Was it your dick I sucked? Sorry, can’t seem to remember that well, my memory is quite foggy” scorn laced your tone. You were done with him this time, you felt your blood boiling just by looking at him—and not in a good way.

“y/n come on-“

“You know, I really think that alcohol isn’t good or bad. But the version that can come out of me when I have enough to drink…yeah, she is bad. She’s careless and selfish and does things that I would never do sober.” Your tone monotonous, and your heart heavy as you know deep down that what you’re saying isn’t necessarily the truth. But you have to find a way in order to get away from Taehyung, he is bad for you, and you’re scared this whole thing is just another prank he carefully set up for you to fall in. But you knew better this time. “There is…a saboteur inside of me. she did everything that night, got it? And she left me to deal with the consequences of her actions.”

Taehyung pushed you with his body against a bookshelf. His right hand resting next to your head while you tried your best to control your breathing “You’re seriously going to pretend you didn’t love the way my tongue licked every inch of your skin?” His face centimeters away from yours as he stared at you dead in the eyes “The way you moaned my name?” He brought his right knee slightly up, just enough to push against your heat, providing the right amount of pressure to make your tummy tense up. How did he manage to have control over you yet once more? “The way you begged to eat my cum?” he breathed

“Stop…” your tone not very convincing, as you clearly didn’t want him to stop what he was doing. His mere knee was making you wetter than any other man ever did. And you hated him for that, you hated him for being the only one that made sucking someone’s dick enjoyable, so much you’d think about it every single night before you went to bed.

But love and hate seem to have an interesting relationship inside your head.

“Why are you putting on this whole show, when you feel the same things I do?” He placed his lips on the side of your neck, giving it a small and gentle kiss before facing you again “you smell amazing, you know that?”

The impact of his stare found a way to touch your skin. Again, a thing only he could do. The memory of him naked and exposed played on a loop, intense and hot, in your head. Just so you didn’t look like an intimidated little girl, you held his gaze for a breathless second.

Feel the same things I do?

What the hell did he mean by that? He wasn’t suggesting he actually viewed that night as something more than a meaningless hook up, was he? “I don’t have time for this, I need to get back to studying-“

“Studying, yeah” he jerked his head slightly backwards and sighted, and you couldn’t help but stare at his prominent Adam’s apple as it slowly moved. “Feels like I’m talking to a fucking wall sometimes” he took a step back

“I thought you loved walls” you smirked and distanced yourself from him “Next time, maybe don’t ghost me” you said with an indifferent voice, and maybe for a split second you wanted him to stop you one more time, grab you by your wrist and pull you in for a kiss, you closed your eyes and painted that picture in your head. But he never did.

It was for the best. Kim Taehyung was bad news, you knew how he treated girls, made them feel special and unique until he decided he was done with them. You were not going to allow yourself to fall for his little scheme. You caught a glimpse of his eyes, it was almost as if he was annoyed by you, as if you were the one who acted like a pretentious dick all the time.

You hated mornings

You couldn’t possibly describe how much.

Which was weird, considering dawn was your favorite part of the day, but the cold and empty feeling that you got when you first open your eyes is cruel and torturing. No matter how much you’d sleep, you would always feel tired when waking up.

Another reason why you hated mornings was because you had to get ready for Hashfield college. You had to find the right clothes and fix your hair and makeup. Not necessarily because you wanted to fit in but because that would make your day much easier. And it sounds dumb, but that was the case and you had to live with it.

There’s one thing you enjoyed about your dull mornings though, and that was the daily morning gossip call with Mina. She’d tell you everything that had happened last night and it would always make you even more jealous for the fact that you didn’t apply to a normal University outside of town instead of Hashfield. You could feel Mina’s excited voice. She was free. And you envied that.

“Ugh one thing I miss about Outfield is the coffee man, there’s just no competition”

“Uhh yeah sounds awful Mina you wanna switch places with me? Life sucks but at least coffee is bomb so I’d say it’s worth it right?”

Mina chuckled “I'll ignore your usual morning chipper and tell you all about the date I had last night”

You were always thankful for the distraction Mina provided every morning “I’m all ears”

“Okay, so” you could basically hear her smile through the phone “ "I was at the bar the other night and ran into this guy, his name's Beck, and we immediately hit it off, We talked for like, two hours afterwards, and he asked for my number. Few days ago he called and asked if I wanted to go out with him, and I was like hell yeah let's tear up the town. Guy picks me up at my apartment in this sleek ass car, and takes me out to this fancy pants restaurant, letting me order whatever I wanted, I mean this dude is loaded. Eventually I ask him what he does for a living, since he's got cash falling from the fuckin' sky. Apparently he works for the fucking Kim family? Isn’t it crazy how small the world is?”

“The Kim family!?” You repeated, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, the Kim business was booming the last decade, Taehyung’s father might be a shitty person but he is an awesome businessman.

“Y/n… you wanna know what’s even crazier?”

“Well I can’t say no now, can I?”

There was a small pause before Mina spoke again “He told me Kim Taehyung is going to be engaged soon.”

Words wouldn’t come out of your mouth.

You knew insiders were engaged early, basically, their parents wanted to secure business merges by having their kids engaged. It did good for business and insiders didn’t want to get married to outsiders in the first place, so it worked.

But Kim Taehyung? For some reason, you always thought he’d be a different case. He was known for his recklessness and not completely adhering to the rules inside the walls. He’d sleep with a lot of women, insiders and outsiders. He didn’t care about the gossip and he certainly didn’t care about what his daddy would say.

So yeah, in a way, hearing these news shocked you in more ways than one. “Are you sure? How would he know?”

“Talks around the office. You know how these things go y/n, if daddy says it then it’s law”

You hated mornings.

Perhaps, in hindsight, the fifth drink had been a mistake.

He isn't drunk, maybe tipsy, he hates to admit that he has grown a tolerance for alcohol. These many drinks into the evening, Taehyung’s short term memory wasn't up to its usual standards. Standing in the door of the bathroom, Taehyung thinks, 'Why am I in here?' It takes at least five seconds before he remembers that he wanted to pee , he's had five drinks and three glasses of water, and things are beginning to get urgent.

“Come ooooon we only have one fucking bathroom in this whole place” he listened to Jungkook’s stammering voice from the door. They had the same amount of alcohol but Jungkook was having a rougher time than him. Considering he apparently forgot there are two more restrooms downstairs.

Jerking his head back, letting his curls fall down, Taehyung thinks of you.

He wasn’t going to, he made a promise to himself to flick away this attraction he seemed to have for you. It wasn’t doing him any good and he knew things with you should remain platonic for your sake. He wasn’t a good guy, and he liked you enough as a person to keep a disntace before fucking everything up—like always.

Was it a week ago? He recalls that’s the last time he talked to you, in the library. Fuck, he could still smell your perfume in his nose as if you were there with him.

But you weren’t.

You were in that other party with Seokjin and Zed down at Clair’s. Taehyung wouldn’t step foot anywhere near Clair’s house, she was crazy for him and things hadn’t ended up the way she wanted so she made sure to make Taehyung’s life a living nightmare instead.

But right now, all Taehyung was thinking about was how much he wanted to punch the shit out of Zed. That dude was an A class asshole that wanted nothing but get his way in your pants. He knew you weren’t going to give it to him, you were smarter than half of the insiders he knew, but he couldn’t hold his worry back.

“Come ooooon dude I will fucking piss my pants”

Taehyung laughed at the sounds Jungkook was making. He finished his business and opened the door chuckling. “You know there are other bathrooms here buddy, right?”

“Whatever” Jungkook blurred before immediately letting loose of his pants. He didn’t even have the sense of mind to close the door behind him.

Jungkook was a good kid, very misunderstood by everyone. Granted, he was a massive dick to girls, but that’s just because he had his heart broken by his first love, and it’s been downhill ever since.

He was like a brother to Taehyung, he was there when Taehyung’s parents had split up, probably the darkest Taehyung had ever been. But Jungkook remained by his side through it all, and Taehyung knew he’d never meet a friend like Jungkook again.

Taehyung and Jungkook didn’t fight, ever. Except well , this one time.

They fought one time over you.

Jungkook had met you while hanging out with some weird crowds outside of the walls, and he seemed to grow a liking towards you. You had similar interests and hobbies despite the different worlds you two were living in, Taehyung had to bite the inside of his cheek every time Jungkook mentioned your name as if it had honey dripping all over it.

Taehyung loves Jungkook, but he knew he wasn’t good for you, so he decided to lie to you and spread the rumor that Jungkook liking you was a prank.

He was stupid for doing that, but he blames his young age and blinding jealousy for that. He still remembers how offended Jungkook got, but he got over the whole thing pretty quick, at least until he’d found his next victim.

Jungkook was a good kid, but he wasn’t good enough for you, no insider was, including himself.

“You’re kind of off today, Taehyung” Brianna wrapped a hand around his waist “Something on your mind?”

A lot of things he couldn’t talk about, especially with her “Nah, just tipsy I guess”

“Oh my god Bri” Tess laughed at her phone like she had just seen the funniest thing of her life “Isn’t that the new outsider girl? y/n, was her name? Was it?”

The mention of your name made Taehyung look at Tess’s phone screen. It was a video of you throwing up in a vase of flowers with the caption ‘Guess outsiders can’t handle alcohol that well’

“I give her another month before she drops out.” Brianna was as toneless as always “Why on earth would she think that mixing with Hashfield was a good idea? Outsiders are a joke, honestly”

“Why do you care, Brianna? It’s just college, who gives a fuck anyways?” Taehyung interrupted, not even bothering to mask how annoyed he was.

When Taehyung imagined what he wanted from life, getting engaged with Brianna was never on his list. It wasn’t even a thought that occurred, until his good-for-nothing ambitious father decided that the Arden family was doing massive numbers in sales. So what better way to merge businesses than to engage him to the Ice queen?

Jesus, his father was a lost case. Tae swore to himself that he’ll never go through with the deal. His plan was to finish Hashfield College as fast as possible and travel around the world, get far away from the fucking wall.

Brianna scoffed, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing in her damn life. “just College?” She eyed him “Taehyung, it’s Hashfield”

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes so fucking much he thought he saw his brain for a second. People like Brianna were not to be reasoned with. “Me and Jungkook are heading to the after party.”

“The after party? I think you’ve had enough to drink already” She lectured him as if she was his goddamn mother, she wasn’t.

“Didn’t know thinking was one of your abilities, you keep surprising me” His tone was rougher than usual but he didn’t really care. Plus the O shaped face she just made was the most amusing thing she’d done all day today. “Cmon Jungkook, let’s go”

•••

If you could get an image stuck in your head forever, it would be Taehyung’s face when he saw you walking out of the bathroom giggling with Zed, heading to find the others downstairs.

Of course, nothing had happened with Zed, he just wanted some help throwing all that tequila out of his system because he drunk a little more than he could handle, which was not much to begin with.

But Kim Taehyung’s expression was painted in your mind. Almost as if he was ready to punch Zed in the face.

Whatever.

What was he doing here anyway? Last you heard, he was at some fancy party with his girlfriend—or should you say fiancé, Brianna.

You don’t remember the last time you actually locked eyes with him since that run-in at the library. During lectures, you’d pretend he wasn’t there, but that only made it worse because you ended up constantly thinking about him. His mere presence was a constant burden. Kim Taehyung was a demon, or the devil himself.

The ninth circle of hell was not in some deep bowel under the earth, it was right here, in front of Clair’s Olympic sized swimming pool. Taehyung removed his shirt and dived in with a couple girls following him soon after. His hair wet and all over the place, locks falling loosely in his eyes, his body shiny under the moonlight and that fucking smirk all over his face. How could a man look this attractive?

“Fucking hell” you hear Celine basically moan.

Yeah, everyone was starring at the half-naked prince of Hashfield. Including you, and he noticed. You hate that he caught you looking

You quickly averted your eyes back to your phone, you didn’t want to give Taehyung the satisfaction of starring at him. Especially now, that he was acting like he had you down already.

“Fuck he’s hot” Nessa’s mouth had more water than the pool itself.

“I know right?” Jess exhaled deeply “Imagine fucking that”

Imagine fucking that

You cursed all sorts in your brain. Of course everyone wanted him. What’s not to like? A mysterious bad boy image, money, the fame of half the world, and soon to be C.E.O of the Kim cooperation. He was THE shit, and the worst part about it;he knew it.

The way he’d glance at all the girls that were eyeing him up and down, he felt the stares and he was feeding off of them.

“Jess your jaw is hitting the ground” Jin teased and in response he got a slap on the shoulder.

Your eyes jumped back at the pool, only to catch Taehyung starring back at you, his eyebrow cocked up, his expression was like an invitation, a dirty one. He watched as you took a sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact for a split second. This had been the longest you had starred at him. His eyes pierced through your soul, and you burned so much that no amount of ice could cool you down.

The devil.

“What do you think about him? Kim Taehyung” Zed bumped your shoulder resulting in that eye contact to break.

“I don’t know. . . Arrogant dick sounds like a nice summary” you faked a smile.

Arrogant dick was one way to describe him, among other things you wouldn’t say out loud, ever.

Zed chuckled at that. “Yeah, I don’t like the dude much either. He’s too lost in his own little fantasy world his good daddy built for him”

Wow, ironic much? Considering that was the case for most people around them, including him.

“It’s not his fault his daddy got money” Defending Tae was not your intention, but that statement was true. Sure, his father was this Hashfield King everyone admired yet feared, but it wasn’t Taehyung’s fault he was born into his family.

“I guess…”

He guesses. As if Zed wasn’t a nepotism baby. Living in the shadow of his family’s wealth. Probably marrying another woman that did the same.

•••

If it was one thing you enjoyed doing in those good-for-nothing outsider parties, it was to stroll around the huge mansions they were held in.

So many rooms that looked more like museums or modern art galleries that no one took an interest in because they were too busy getting fucked up by the jacuzzi or had no taste for such things to begin with.

Your eyes caught an enormous half opened wooden door with golden details on the side. You enter the room to find out it was an office. The place was a perfect square with a blue, stylish couch, a mahogany desk with a couple chairs in front of it, a flat-screen TV, and a minibar.

The walls were concrete, but with the gold and blue oriental rug and nothing but one piece of artwork on the wall, the room was somehow warm and comfortable.

You studied the painting that sat behind a shiny piece of glass. Pastel colors and bold yet refined sweeps of a brush. You weren’t much of an artistic person like your mother, but you recognized the work. You’d watched a documentary about the downfall of modern art. That what we consider art today is a poor example of the talent and heart of art in the past.

“Got lost trying to find the bathroom again?” Taehyung’s voice made goosebumps run down your back.

How did you two always manage to end up in the same places? Manage to read the same books, enjoy the same movies, like the same music? “Stalker alert”

You turned around and met his face. A thick atmosphere hung in the air. “Don’t flatter yourself” he scoffed “I’m impressed that leach Zed isn’t here with you, I thought you two were a package deal” He downed his drink and paced around the room, his attention moving from your eyes to the painting behind you.

“I could say the same thing about you and Cruella de Vil”

He laughed at that. A soft laugh, the kind that could melt your heart. “I can’t tolerate Brianna for more than an hour honestly”

“You’re not that tolerable yourself either”

Taehyung remained silent. His gaze fixed on the only painting in the room. And all you wanted to do was touch him just to make sure he was actually there, and you weren’t dreaming.

You should’ve gotten out of that room the minute he got there. He was trouble, and it was best to stay away from him, but for some fucking reason you found yourself glued there, gazing at him as if he was god himself.

“The Cliff Walk at Pourville” he suddenly broke the silence.

“Didn’t take you for a guy who would have a soft spot for Monet”

He turned his head, his dark eyes found yours and for a moment you felt your head spinning. “My mama was a fan” Your stomach warmed at the deep way mama rolled off his lips. “She had good taste” He laughed quietly. A bitter note showed through, and he wiped his amusement away with a palm like he’d just realized what he’d done. “You know why she liked about The Cliff Walk at Pourville so fucking much?” He clicked his tongue “It looks like the beach surrounding the wall. She said if she could paint freedom, it would look like that” he tapped the painting with his finger sort of aggressively. “And now she is free and I’m left alone in this fucking cliff”

Was that anger in his tone? Or maybe disappointment…? You figure it was a cocktail of the two. For some reason, your heart broke. You knew how much he loved his mum, you haven’t heard any news about her. Kim Taehyung’s father was a mean and cruel man, but how cold does a mother have to be to leave behind her only son like that?

“Don’t you like it here?”

His eyes wondered around the room, almost as if they were avoiding you “I don’t know…I mean it’s Hashfield right? I should be on my knees thanking the fucking God that I get to live inside the wall.” He breathed “The Damn wall”

“I can’t figure you out. I thought you enjoyed all of this…”

His drunk gaze found yours.

And you swear you lost sensation in your legs. He was a statue, something out of this century, maybe he was a reincarnation of Achilles. Or maybe he was not human.

His lips were slightly apart and his eyes were almost sparkly under the light. He smiled and finished what was left of his drink “I’m afraid you will never figure me out”

You rolled your eyes. Even drunk and out of his head he remained stubborn and an annoying know-it-all. “Why not?” You returned the smile, weirdly amused by the fact that his nose had turned slightly red from all that booze.

“I’m a paradox” His eyes tried to fix on you for a minute but soon flattered “I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I’m lazy, yet ambitious. I don’t like myself but I also love who I am.” He took a long breath “I pretend I don’t care, when in reality I do. I crave attention, yet reject it when it comes my way. Im a conflicted contradiction. If I can’t figure myself out, there’s no way anyone else can”

At that point, every last piece of your armor disintegrated. You felt Taehyung was being genuine with you, for once. He told you something about himself. He let you inside a corner of his brain. There was no pretense, it was just you, him and the Monet painting behind you.

“You miss your mother?” A gulp in your throat, you couldn’t hold this question back.

He exhaled “Everyday”

“You know, I used to think that losing someone went hand in hand with losing a part of yourself. That losing a person close to you was like giving away a little bit of who you are every time you said goodbye. But that’s not always true. Some losses, some parting of ways, are essential for our personal growth. When we burn a bridge, we allow something new to grow from its ashes. Something that wouldn’t have gotten the chance to bloom otherwise. So most of the time loss actually goes hand in hand with a new beginning, a new chance, even if it takes us years to see the change and to realise that maybe it was for the best. With every person you lose, with everyone you willingly let go, you get to know a part of yourself that was hidden before.”

He looked at you carefully as he took the remaining steps towards you. His cologne pierced your nose and nerves played beneath your skin when instead of stopping he came closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer “You’re really something, you know that?”

You pretended this position didn’t effect you at all, but in reality your heart raced from the shock.

“Y/N..” You turned your head to look at him. your breath shallowed when you realized his lips were only inches from your own. His gaze was warm, seeing deeper beneath your skin with each second. “Why are you here?”

You frowned your brows “I just…I like snooping around these big houses, I’m not really used to them. Plus if I have to sit through one more insider small talk I will drown myself in the pool. By the way did you know this house has like six pools? how many do you even need-“

“I mean Hashfield. Why on earth would you come to this place? I know you hate it”

“You’re right” A deep breath “I never wanted to come to Hashfield. It was not this big dream everyone thinks I had.” You exhaled and took a sneak peak of the way he was looking at you. He made you feel like whatever you were about to say was of importance. And it was. “The biggest mistake I’ve ever made was thinking time didn’t exist for me. I was young and stupid and convinced time would bend to my will like reeds bend to the wind. I was going to be a high schooler forever, you know? I had no plans, no dream job, nothing. But for whatever reason, I was always good with school. My grades were always top of the class and my teachers constantly praised me. That’s when my mum recommended that I try out for Hashfield. She really believed in me. No one ever believed in me but she did.”

“You never told her you didn’t want to come here?” He asked, rightfully so.

“I kept the words that could change everything lodged under my tongue, too scared, too shy, too embarrassed to say them out loud. Because what should I tell her? That I’ll reject the greatest opportunity anyone could have? That all the hard work and support she gave me was for nothing?” You sighted “I was going to tell her, eventually, I was sure about it. I thought I could put it off for another week, at least. The week became a month. And then the acceptance letter came and it was too late…Time. I had ran out of time.”

The dim lighting made his eyes look like burnt gold. “I guess one good thing came out of that”

“What?” You asked, already knowing the answer in your head, but you wanted to hear it from him

“We met again”

“We met multiple times outside the walls before, you know”

“Yeah” a faint smile “but that was different” he made a pause “I was different”

Tension crept between the two of you, finding its way between your legs and settling there like a heavy weight. You found yourself thinking about so many things. You wanted to see what was beneath that white shirt. You wanted to know how much little effort it would take for him to hold you down. You wanted to put out this fire inside you that had been there since the last time he touched you. But then. The words escaped your mouth as if they had a mind of their own “I heard you are getting engaged”

His gaze found yours, and the gold blackened around the edges. Your pulse pirouetted to a strange dance. “You heard?” his voice darker than usual

“I’m surprised more people don’t know about it. You’re like a prince around here”

“That’s because it’s not official yet” he exhaled a deep breath “My father is in the midst of some big deal and apparently he wants me to be the seal of it.. He can go fuck himself. I’m not planning to be a pawn in his game.” The anger quickly turned into amusement as he saw your face “Why princess, you thought you had lost me forever?”

With his body pressed against yours, warming you from the inside out, the pull to lean in was a physical thing. A heavy tug, as if he was your center of gravity. You could taste his breath and feel his strong heartbeat.

How easy it would be; to bury your fingers in his hair, to run your hand along his jawline, to meet your mouth with his.

You knew it would be the best kiss you’d ever have.

But you manage to tame that urge. Almost as if the two sides inside of you were fighting and hopefully this time, reason was winning. “Will you let go of me?”

To be fair. You weren’t making much of an effort to free yourself from his grip.

“I don’t want to.”

You loved his voice and the way he said that.

What was wrong with you? “Let me go”

“You’re not very convincing”

“You’re a dick”

“You always say that”

“Cause it’s true”

“Well I guess I’m a dick with a very kissable mouth then”

You cringed at the memory of you admitting he has a kissable mouth. It was true, but he didn’t need to know that. “Remove your hands Kim Taehyung”

Just when he was about to open his mouth and say something -probably very annoying- his phone rang.

“You should take that, maybe it’s your fiancé”

He raised his eyebrow in annoyance and checked his phone. The name on the screen wrote ‘Jungkook’ and you felt your throat dry up from the memories that hit you.

Kim Taehyung was not a good person to you, why were you in his arms?

“It better be important Jungkook” he answered his phone.

KIM TAEHYUNG P.O.V

“Look man, I-I didn’t do it okay? I mean-I mean I did it’s just- I had a lot to drink and Jimin was teasing me, saying I was a pussy and too scared to do it”

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

This couldn’t be good.

“What happened Jungkook. Fucking spill it”

He stared as you reached for your phone in your back pocket. It had been vibrating for a while. Who was texting you so impatiently? Was it Zed? Seokjin?

“I told Zed about the bet. I told him that we made a bet and you won, that you’d slept with y/n. Look man I’m sorry I-“

Your expression turned cold when you read the text messages on your screen. “What the fuck!?” You yelled as you pushed your self away from him. Your eyes slowly turning up, meeting his own. He could tell whatever you read probably broke your heart right there and then

He had fucked up. Big time.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Kim Taehyung?”

Jungkook was continuing his rumble making a half assed apology when Taehyung hangs up the phone. Trying to calm you down “Y/n I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“I knew it…” Your expression was empty, almost cold, Taehyung had never seen you like this before. You were always bright and warm. You were the only person he felt comfortable around, but right now… he could barely look at you in the eyes. “I can’t believe I trusted you. Kim Taehyung. A fucking bet?” You basically growled “Over who gets to fuck me? You truly are your father’s son.” He could taste the bitterness out your mouth when you spat that.

“Y/n… I can explain… please” He needed to explain to you…what? That you were lovely and smart and better than anything he deserved? That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for you?. That without meaning to, he’d begun to lean on you, to look for you, to need you near.?

Would you even believe him if he did tell you that? He thinks not. And he deserves the way you’re looking at him right now. Like he was garbage, because maybe, he truly is his father’s son. “I’m sorry… you can’t imagine how sorry I am y/n…”

It didn’t matter how much he begged for forgiveness, that look in your eyes told him you were done with him for good. For every step he took toward you, you took two steps back. Every time he thought he’d made some sort of progress, that he’d finally gotten somewhat closer to you, you slipped away again, like a shadow, like the wind, like a ray of light, simply refusing to be captured.

To be continued. . .

taglist:

@nikkiordonez12 @travelleratheart101 @chr1sht @theaufanartist @tetesland @world-moon @ratedbangtann @chimchoom @pnkoo @taehyungedd @turnthepageandbeburnt @glitteryouid @jkbangtan7

Sorry for taking this long, cheers! Happy new year