#and doesn't think they deserve that knowledge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dawn-iscozy · 2 days ago

Text

“ like a cat in a sunny spot ” ♡ x ♡

SERIES PLAYLIST: “ swim ” - chase atlantic ♡ “ honey (are u coming?) ” - maneskin ♡ “ the summoning ” - sleep token ♡ “ soft spot ” - keshi ♡ “ bubbly ” - colbie caillat ♡ “ kiss me ” - ed sheeran ♡ “ cotton candy ” - yungblud ♡

SERIES WARNINGS: poly, eventual ot8, named oc - “Rora”, derived from “Aurora” (soooooo original, I know), who is basically a self-insert (i’m still on the brink of denial about it). loooots of nicknames/pet names, and even more as the fic progresses (if you read the “a little warmth in winter” you’ll know most of the names already 🤭). things move pretty quickly in this, and it may stray vaguely into soulmate au territory but, like, I’m a sucker for these men and for the way I’ve written them and I just can’t stop.

apologies in advance if the timeline doesn’t make any sense, I’m going purely on vibes and my affection for these 8 men. idk if it deserves a warning, but scents are mentioned a lot in some parts and kinda littered through the rest of the fic (using scent profiles from a perfume/fragrance site that has a line of scents called “Smells Like a Hug From Ateez” and very limited knowledge of fragrances the members may have previously used/just the vibes they give off)

WORD COUNT: 12.5k

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS: more sleepy mingi, more simping (i’m so down bad for these boys if it wasn’t already made obvious), sannie likes to dote and dresses oc, so does jongho in his own way, mingi and wooyoung are little shits, but they’re cute so it’s okay, group date!!, new female oc, pink hwa, hwa playing animal crossing, (temporary 😔) scene boy yeosangie, descriptions of rora’s hair (ginger and blonde cause she’s a self-insert yall🙃), rora wears a dress, yeosang really likes the dress and it makes him a shy boy, S M U T, yet another threesome, use of a toy, yeosangie gives switch vibes at moments, yeosang REALLY likes rora’s thighs, jongho is in charge yup, and he insists on very explicit consent, face sitting, incorrect use of a belt, possibly slight mxm (sorry not sorry), masturbation, definitely more that needs to be added, let me know if there is

TAG LIST: @kaleigh-2002 @stickystickyjam (if anyone else wants to be added, drop a comment or a message and i'll gladly add you!)

A NOTE: i literally JUST finished writing this and haven't really gone over the later half of this part much, so if there's anything not mentioned in the warnings, typos, or anything that doesn't make sense...let me know so i can fix it! enjoy, and pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think! 😊🫶

♡ 18+ - smut - MDNI ♡

Wooyoung hogged her attention until one of the others heard him trying to sneak her down the hall and into his bedroom. He wasn’t very sneaky about it, giggling and pressing wet kisses into her skin loud enough they echoed off the walls. Mingi, apparently now ready to be awake and presumably hearing Wooyoung’s commotion, opened Yunho’s bedroom door, catching Wooyoung in the act.

He stared for a moment, blinking bleary eyes at the two of them before stealing her right out of a protesting Wooyoung’s arms. His movements were slow, sloppy, but Wooyoung didn’t make a move to stop his friend, complaining aloud even as he helped steady her when Mingi’s large frame stumbled, hand warm on her bare shoulder before retreating a step back.

“Morning, Mingi.” She laughed, ignoring Wooyoung’s petulant huffing and puffing behind her in favor of throwing her arms around Mingi’s broad shoulders. “I thought you would sleep longer.”

Mingi hummed, holding her tighter against his warm chest. “Couldn’t go back to sleep,” he said, fumbling his grip around her waist to ensure her towel stayed in place. “Missed you. Yuyu wouldn’t let me cuddle him.”

“Poor baby,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his chin. “Just need attention all the time, hmm?”

A sound bubbled up in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a whine, his head swinging in a sleepy left and right that had her laughing.

“Don’t deny it, you needy thing,” she teased, letting her fingers sift through his messy hair, working through the tangles in an attempt to get the strands to lay properly on his head. “It’s cute.”

“M’not cute,” Mingi murmured, brows pulling down low over his eyes and full lips pushing out in a pout that entirely defeated his disagreement.

Her brows rose, and she hummed. “Funny, Yeosang said the exact same thing earlier,” she said. “You can be cute and also be handsome or cool or sexy or whatever else you wanna be, you know.”

“You’ve got a point,” he admitted, but his brows were still furrowed and his lips still pouted.

“D’you wanna cuddle until Jongho comes back with my clothes?” Rora asked, unable to stop herself as she dotingly smoothed down his sleep mussed hair again.

That brightened him up, brows rising high on his forehead and eyes practically disappearing behind the big gummy smile he shot at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” she said, melting against him when his arms tightened around her middle. Wooyoung let out a noise, and she looked back at him, giggling at his disgruntled expression. “Of course you can join too, Youngie. We were going to your room anyway, right?”

“Fuck yeah,” he quickly agreed, grabbing both of them by the arms, forcing them to stumble the rest of the way down the hall to his opened bedroom door and pushing them into a giggling heap atop his still very unmade bed.

“You can just use your words, you know.” Rora laughed as he pushed and pulled her and Mingi around on the bed.

He huffed and continued what he was doing, shuffling the blankets around to cover them once everyone was where he wanted them. “That’s not nearly as fun,” he murmured, settling down to one side of Mingi, throwing an arm and a leg around his larger friend. His fingers wrapped lightly around hers, pulling until her arm was snuggly around Mingi’s chest, fingers linked with Wooyoung’s.

They stayed like that, her and Wooyoung wrapped around a very happy Mingi, for at least an hour. Long enough that the other friends seemingly took turns stopping by the room to check on them. Long enough for Jongho and San to finish up at her apartment, come back, and start looking for her.

She squealed when a broad shouldered man ran into the room to jump across the three of them, the two men laying on the bed groaning when his weight landed on them. San crawled over his friends to cage her head between two muscular arms. “Hi, darling,” he said, dimples on full display and damp hair hanging over his eyes.

“Hi, Sannie,” she said. “Did you have a good workout?”

He nodded, leaning down to nuzzle her cheek, pressing kisses to her jaw.

“You smell like my shampoo,” she murmured, sniffing at his hair again just to confirm, unable to stop the little flutter of happiness when the familiar jasmine scent filled her senses, undercurrents of almond and shea coming through, mixing pretty well with San’s usual cologne. “And my soap. Did you shower at my place?”

“Mhm. Jongho came before I could shower at the gym and didn’t wanna make him wait too long.” He shifted, settling more into his position atop his friends, easily ignoring their protests and groans of pain. “S’that okay?”

“More than.” She kissed his cheek. “How’s Teddy? He doing okay?”

“He’s fine,” Jongho finally said. Her gaze fell from San’s to watch Jongho walk further into the room. He smiled as he crouched beside her, elbows propped on the mattress to lean closer to her, fingers playing with the strands of her hair that were splayed out on the pillow only to give a playful tug. The sharp gasp that elicited made him laugh, but he soothed the sting in her scalp with a tender touch that had her eyes threatening to flutter closed. “He ate his food and played with Sannie for a little while. He was curled up for a nap in your bed by the time we left.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What clothes did you bring me?”

A smirk crawled onto his face. “None, sorry. Guess you’ll have to stay in that towel.”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes only to pout up at him. “When did you become such a pervert?” she whined.

All he did was laugh, grabbing a bag from the floor. “I found a dress that I remember you wearing to work once a long time ago. Remembered how pretty you looked in it and knew it would drive Yeosangie a little crazy.”

A brow rose in surprise. “Yeosang?”

San huffed out a laugh. “Her thighs look a little extra good in that one, baby bear?”

“Scrumptious, even,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You’re gonna torture the poor guy.” Despite his words, San’s tone was filled with amusement and his chest continued to rumble with laughter.

“Good.” Jongho smirked, eyes still sparkling as they looked down at her. “Now, up you get. Time to get dressed.”

“You’re sadistic,” she grumbled lightheartedly, barely containing the giggle beginning to bubble in her throat. “And bossy.”

“You like bossy,” Mingi and Wooyoung said in unison, sending the two of them into fits of laughter that echoed off the walls and shook the bed.

“Been nothing but sweet to you two all morning and you decide to gang up on me. I see how it is,” she snipped, wiggling her way out from the tangle of limbs and grabby hands.

Jongho handed her the bag he brought, and her brows arched as she shuffled through the contents. A finger hooked through a pair of delicate white lace panties she rarely wore, dangling it in the air as she looked between Jongho and San. “Who decided on this?”

“It was a unanimous decision,” San answered, cheeks flushing and eyes turning into crescents with the shy smile curling at the corners of his lips. “But I suggested also including the matching bra. Wanted to see you in it. Knew you’d look pretty in the full set. And Jongho agreed.”

“Guess I could get dressed here and show you, hmm?” she mused, laughing when all four men agreed with great enthusiasm. Her head tilted, and she looked at Sannie with a tiny smile. “Or would you like to help me wear it? You seem to like the idea of dressing me up.”

Cheeks still pink, he just stared at her from his place on the bed, like he needed a moment to process her suggestion. Then, he was scrambling up from the pile of bodies and pushing a laughing Jongho aside to get to her.

He took great joy in unknotting her towel, strong hands soft on her skin, gaze all but reverent as every inch of her was exposed to everyone in the room. He was gentle in caressing her belly, sneaking around her hips to give her ass a cheeky squeeze that had everyone laughing at her little squeak of surprise.��

Quiet murmurs of praise filled her cheeks with pink and had her skin thrumming with the heat of all of their eyes on her. She loved it, even if the initial courage gave way to embarrassment. There was nothing but warmth from each of them, maybe a bit of lust as they skimmed over her nakedness. As they took note of the way her nipples pebbled in the air of the room, how her thighs squeezed together and her arms came around her middle before falling away to allow Sannie to soothe her back into full comfort.

The broad-shouldered man kneeled before her, helping her step into her panties. A mere scrap of lace that disappeared between her cheeks and hugged her hips in a way that she often found herself just that slightest bit too conscious of. But the fabric was soft. Pretty. And she loved the way Sannie’s eyes lit up, warm and soft and all but reverent, when he pulled them up her thighs. As he settled the material over her hips. Loved the way his fingers traced the top of the panties, calloused fingertips smoothing over where they dug into her skin, before trailing up her belly with such tenderness that goosebumps rose in their wake.

The bra came next, nimble fingers sliding the straps up her arms and over her shoulders. “Turn for me?” San murmured, pressing a kiss to her sternum, guiding her hands up to hold the bra in place.

She did as he asked, eyes falling on Jongho. His eyes skimmed over her before coming to rest on her face again. Her breath caught at the look on his face. At the combination of affection and heat there. At the smirk that slowly formed as he took notice of how he affected her.

Hands kneaded at her ass, up her back. Fingers tickled over her ribs before coming to catch the bra hooks to hook them together. Then kisses were trailing down her spine, hands kneading her ass again.

“Fucking love your ass, darling,” San all but whined, teeth sinking into the flesh of one cheek hard enough that she yelped.

“What’s with you and biting me?” she scolded, biting back a giggle as his fingers tickled up her sides again, wiggling away from him until he gripped her hips to pull her back to him.

“Stop being so biteable,” he murmured, pressing kissed over where, no doubt, an imprint of his teeth was embedded in her skin, making her shudder in his hold. “Sorry, darling. That one might bruise.”

A knock came at the door, and she turned to see Hongjoong there, arms crossed over his chest but a smile on his face as he leaned against the door frame. Yeosang peeked in over his friend’s shoulder, freezing when he spotted her. She shivered at the way his lips parted. How his eyes raked over her, teeth trapping his bottom lip. His eyes caught hers for a moment, cheeks reddening, before he disappeared from the doorway altogether.

“Hwa’s appointment is in half an hour,” Hongjoong said when her attention came back to him, already turning to leave, glancing over his shoulder with a little grin. “We gotta leave in 10 minutes if we want to make it in time.”

Rora giggled when three of the four men in the room grumbled and whined at their older friend’s words. “Are you done, Sannie? Or are you gonna help me with my dress too?”

San hummed, reaching to pull the dress from the bag and carefully pulling it over her head. It was a soft fabric, sage green and dotted with little daisies, with thin straps and a square neckline that outlined her breasts well. She had to agree with Jongho, too. It did frame her legs nicely, flaring out in an a-line at the top of her hips and falling just far enough on her thigh, where she wished every shorter piece of clothing she owned would stop but almost never would wear out in public.

She felt pretty in it, felt pretty under their gazes and unfiltered praises, giggling as she was pulled back down into the cuddle pile. Mingi and Wooyoung littered her with kisses until Mingi got too excited and caught her mouth with his own, stealing her breath and gripping her close to him until she had to thread her fingers in his hair and tug to pull him away.

He looked entirely unrepentant. Particularly smug as his eyes roamed over her face to take in the flush of her cheeks and the wet shine of her lips. Even as San and Wooyoung tackled him away from her and into a bout of playful wrestling and tickling that had the larger man shrieking with laughter. Jongho helped her from the bed just in time, as the three of them rolled right into the spot that she had been laying in.

She giggled in his hold, letting him sweep her from the room and down the hall, where her dates were likely waiting for her. Jongho cleared his throat, hands disappearing from her skin and into the pockets of his sweats. “I have a cardigan you can borrow to wear over your dress,” Jongho suggested, chin hooking over her shoulder as they shuffled awkwardly closer to the living area. “So you don’t get cold.”

“I love how I don’t even have to steal clothes from any of you. You all just offer them up without anyone even asking,”

“So you don't get cold,” Jongho reiterated, but when she glanced back at him, his eyes were looking forward, refusing to look in her direction, and the red in his ears was traveling to his cheeks.

“Just admit you like when I wear your clothes, bear.” Her lips pressed against a pink-dusted cheek. “I’m not gonna say no.”

He pushed her to sit on the sofa, hands gentle and face sulky, and left her in the living room. There was clattering in the kitchen, shuffling, the rustling of clothing. Curiosity got the best of her, and she turned to see Seonghwa looking through the fridge while Yeosang adjusted and fussed over his clothes. He was dressed in a simple white shirt tucked into belted light-wash jeans, but he looked incredible. Flashes of skin caught her eyes, the bulging and flexing of arms, as he pulled at his t-shirt to look it over. Seonghwa murmured something that she couldn’t quite catch, but whatever he said made Yeosang relax and let his shirt go. Until he turned to the living room and tensed up again, seeming to startle upon seeing her seated on the sofa. How he didn’t hear her and Jongho coming in, she wasn’t sure. But it was endearing, nonetheless.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Yeosangie,” she said, pulling a leg up onto the sofa to tuck it beneath her, watching in awe as his eyes tracked her movements, locking in on the way her thigh expanded upon settling against the cushion. Pretty lips parting again, a flash of pearly white teeth and pink tongue. Eyes so surprisingly intense for a long moment, she couldn’t breath. Not until he startled, looking away when Jongho came back into the room, a soft looking sweater folded over his arm.

Jongho laughed at Yeosang upon his arrival, taking in his friend’s flustered face, how his eyes darted away from everyone in the room. Jongho’s knowing, satisfied look sent her giggling as she took the cream cardigan from his outstretched hand.

Seonghwa sighed, letting the refrigerator door fall closed, arms stretching over his head as he turned, the loose sleeves of his open-knit sweater pooling at his elbows and the bottom lifting to show a sliver of taut tummy. The cream color of it made him look soft, cozy, and had him nearly glowing in the late morning light. Looking like an angel, him and Yeosang both.

A smile crossed Seonghwa’s lips when he saw her sitting on the couch. His face was soft, eyes shining under the kitchen lights, hair falling into his eyes as his head tilted. “There’s nothing to really eat here. How about we order some food and have it delivered to the salon?” Her stomach answered for her, grumbling at the thought of food, and he laughed, head tipping back just enough to emphasize the pretty line of his neck, the golden glint of a delicate chain gleaming over the ridges of his collarbones. “I’ll order it on the drive there,” he said, voice soft, trembling with lingering laughter.

“Hmm?” She turned to see Hongjoong walking into the room, face shining with what she assumed to be a layer of not-yet-set skincare. He looked both put together and casual in a button-up and ripped black jeans, hair messy on his head, pushed back by a pair of sunglasses.

“You’re driving so I can order us food,” Seonghwa said.

Hongjoong nodded, picking at his shirt and adjusting the way it fit on his frame. “You still have my card info on your delivery app, right? You’re already paying for the salon - charge the food to my card. And make sure to get some coffee.”

Seonghwa flustered for a moment, mouth opening and closing before he finally sighed, lips tipping up into a little smile. Affectionately defeated, like he knew it wouldn’t be worth it to fight his friend on the matter but he appreciated the offer nonetheless. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Joong.”

Hongjoong hummed, looking around at everyone as he re-tucked the front of his button up into his jeans. The move should have been awkward, but as his gaze locked with her own, deft fingers adjusting his belt, she couldn’t help but swallow. The corner of his mouth went up, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Are we all ready to go?” he asked.

The three men started making their way to the front door, taking turns to slip into their shoes at the entrance, and she turned to Jongho, who had been silently standing near the couch the whole time. Rora tucked his cardigan closer to her chest as she stood, leaning into him to plant a lingering kiss on his cheek. “See you later, bear,” she said.

“Have fun, precious,” he murmured, smoothing his thumb over her jaw lightly.

She hummed. “Don’t miss me too much,” she teased, giggling when he rolled his eyes.

“Go before he drags you to his cave and keeps you for himself,” Wooyoung interrupted, cackling and running back down the hallway when Jongho turned to him.

♡♡♡

The drive was quiet, interrupted only by Seonghwa asking soft questions about what everyone would like from a bagel place he promised was good (Sannie tested and everything). The order was placed and they were just waiting for the driver to pick up and deliver. As soon as they got to the shop, Seonghwa was greeted with a hug and a warm call of his name by a ball of energy with short, colorful hair and sick graphic liner. “How’ve you been, Hwa?” The person asked, pulling back to look at his face, gloss-slicked lips pulling up into a grin. “Are you ready to finally go pink?”

With previous partners, she might have felt uncomfortable. Not jealous, really. And maybe she was a bit uncomfortable at that moment. But it felt more like usual first-date jitters. The usual meeting-a-new-person, twist in her stomach. The typical about to make a change to her appearance that she gets every time she goes for a haircut, tries on a new piece of clothing, or experiments with makeup.

“So ready,” he confirmed, lips stretching into a wide, pretty smile. He took a step away from the person, looking behind his shoulder to catch her gaze. His eyes roamed over her face, gauging her reaction, making sure she was okay, seeming to catch the nerves in her posture. His expression softened before he beckoned the three of them further inside. “Naomi, you’ve met Joong, right? He came along on my last appointment. And this is Yeosang and Rora. If it wouldn’t be too much, would you want to have some fun with their hair, too? I’m sorry to just spring this on you. I should have called ahead to ask, but it was a last minute idea and I got too excited.”

“You brought friends!” Naomi’s face practically glowed as she moved a few steps away from him to glance over them. A bubbly little sound came from her lips and her hands clapped together. “Of course I don’t mind! I have nothing else going on today, anyway. You’ve practically booked up my whole day, remember? Come in, come in!”

She was quick in seating them, each of them in a chair, turned to watch her start working on Seonghwa. Hongjoong flip-flopped between dozing off and speaking with her and Yeosang until the food Seonghwa ordered was finally delivered, the coffee taking effect quickly and sending him into a buzz of laughter and conversation that had him twitching in his seat and practically glowing, even under the fluorescent lighting of the salon.

And Yeosang kept glancing at her with flushed cheeks and dark eyes, tongue poking out occasionally, a teasing glimpse of pink that made her heart flutter every time it happened. It took a while for him to loosen up, but before she knew it, he was laughing aloud at jokes and sending shockingly sharp jabs at his friends that sent her laughing aloud.

To her own surprise, she was quick in relaxing into the situation. The three men and Naomi kept the conversations flowing with an ease that she admired, and when they all fell into silence, none of them seemed anxious to fill it. It was comfortable. Like every other interaction she’d had with any eight of these men since meeting them. They were all just so…kind and

Soon, Noami was done slapping thick globs of bleach and foils onto Hwa’s hair with quick, practiced movements until his head was fully covered in aluminum pieces. The hairdresser had barely peeled the gloves from her hands before Seonghwa was moving.

Rora watched in the mirror as Seonghwa pulled his bag into his lap, searching around for something she couldn't quite see. With a triumphant noise, he pulled out a gaming system. His eyes were gleaming under the store lights, enhanced by the glinting of the foils decorating his head. He froze when he saw her looking, face almost guilty "Do you mind if I play?" he asked.

"Not at all," Rora said, containing a giggle when his face immediately brightened up and he wiggled in his seat.

Naomi moved to stand behind her, stealing her attention from the adorably excited man as she moved her fingers through her hair. "What were you thinking of getting done?" Naomi asked, meeting her eyes in the large mirror.

“I’ve been wanting to try a split dye for a while,” she said, eyes sliding from the hairdresser’s face in the mirror to settle on Hongjoong’s. Her cheeks were already warm from the interaction with a new (very pretty) person, but they flamed even brighter when his eyes widened, a smug smile finding home on his lips. She cleared her throat. “Blonde and my natural color.”

“I love it when redheads add some blond,” Naomi said, working a comb through her hair to part it properly down the middle. “You’re wanting a proper half and half split dye, right? One full side of blonde?”

“Yes,” Rora confirmed.

“Are you gonna want a cut too?”

“Please,” she said, laughing lightly. “I need some of this length gone.”

“This is gonna be fun,” she said, clapping her hands together once. “I’m just going to go get everything ready and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” Rora murmured, head nodding as she forced herself to relax into the chair again.

As Naomi walked away from her, the hairdresser turned to Hongjoong, who was shifting in his seat and adjusting his hair on his head. “Hongjoong, are you wanting to touch up your own hair again or do you want help this time?” Naomi asked.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with a charming little grin. “I can do it, Naomi. Thank you.”

“I’ll mix you some up too, then,” she said. “Yeosang.” Said man perked up at his name being called. “I’ll get to you in a little bit, okay? Sit tight.” When he nodded his acknowledgment, she disappeared around a corner at the far end of the studio space.

She came back and got started quickly, parting her hair and painting it with bleach with steady, practiced moves. Naomi was halfway through bleaching her hair when their eyes met briefly in the mirror. “Rora,” she said softly, a question already curling up at the end of her words. “How did you come to meet my favorite clients?”

Rora had to pause for a moment, shutting off her phone screen and settling it face down on her lap. “Do you want the full version or a summary?” she asked, swallowing when the eyes of the three men also settled on her, their curious gazes like weights on her face.

“You can tell me whatever you want to tell me. Or you can tell me nothing,” she said sweetly. “I won’t judge or pressure you.”

Rora breathed out through her mouth, slow and steady. “Some of my coworkers talked me into going out after work one Friday evening. Coerced me, more like, but I agreed to go so they would finally just…stop asking and making comments about how I never go out,” she started. “They left me as soon as we got through the door, saying they were going to get drinks or something. But when I made it to the bar, they weren’t there. I couldn’t see them anywhere, so I just sat at the bar, trying to enjoy a drink cause I had worked so hard to dress up and everything. And yeah, I felt like I looked good, yunno? It would have been such a waste to just go home.”

Naomi made a little noise in the back of her throat. “Did you take any pictures?” she asked, leaning closer. “I’m so invested in this now, and I need to properly visualize it.”

Fumbling to flip her phone back around, Rora flipped through the pictures in her phone, flustering further as Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Yeosang came over, crowding as close as they dared to see the picture themselves. She found it quickly enough, the full body mirror picture she took just a little too long perfecting before stepping out her door. Her heels, the shiny red of the dress, the dark red pop of her lipstick barely visible behind her phone. It was one of the best pictures she had ever taken of herself.

“Damn, girl, yeah. You looked hot. Definitely would have been a shame to just go home!” Naomi exclaimed. “What happened next?”

Her cheeks flushed at the memories, and she cleared her throat, watching the three men go back to their respective chairs as she thought about the best way to word the rest of the story. “Two of their friends, Wooyoung and San, sat next to me at the bar, asked if I wanted to dance. We had fun, and they made the night so much better than I imagined it would be. One thing led to another, and turns out I’ve been working with one of their other friends, Jongho, for the last year or so. Had met another one that same afternoon, even. Eventually, I met the whole group and apparently, they want me to stick around.”

Naomi hummed, continuing to gently swipe bleach into Rora’s hair. “I don’t know all of them, obviously,” she said. “Or you all that well, for that matter. I’m sorry your coworkers did that to you. That was really shitty of them, and you didn’t deserve that. But I’m glad something good came out of it. If the rest of them are anything like Seonghwa or Hongjoong, they’ve gotta be some really great people.”

Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yeosang shifted sheepishly in their chairs, cheeks and ears pink at the praise, and Rora couldn’t help the grin forming on her face. “They are,” she agreed, watching as the three men grew even more flustered under her gaze.

They were at the salon for hours, but the time passed by in a blur of tingling scalp, giggle-filled conversations, and observations she was able to make about the three men. Like how Hongjoong tried to lead conversations, even when he might have been feeling a little awkward, offering to be the bridge to keep things moving smoothly. How Yeosang may have often needed to ask people to repeat things they said but was surprisingly sharp and observant. How Seonghwa got completely lost in his game at one point, gleaming with happiness as he clicked buttons and copied the noises of the little characters on the screen. How the two oldest friends practically coddled Yeosang, casually wiping his face of food crumbs after they all ate or cooing at him adoringly when he did something they deemed particularly cute. How easy it was for them to do such acts, like they had been doing it without thought for years and years. And maybe they have. She didn’t know how long they had known each other, but the closeness of all eight of them spoke of years of friendship and comfort and understanding.

By the end of their salon date, her hair was shorter and half blonde, Hongjoong’s split dye was retouched, Seonghwa’s hair was a gorgeous bubblegum pink that made him glow, and Yeosang’s hair was green with lines of black striked through. He had told Naomi he wanted to try it, but he didn’t want the whole thing to be as permanent. So, they settled on bleaching his hair, dying it green, and having some fun with some hair chalk Naomi had been curious about and was excited to finally be using on someone.

The sun was nearly setting by the time they were all done and Jongho was pulling up outside the salon. Rora grinned at him as he stepped out of the car, adjusting his shirt as he walked closer. “Hi, bear,” she greeted brightly, letting him pull her into a hug, her arms going around his middle.

“Hi,” he greeted, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I like the hair,” he said, pulling back to look her over better, a hand coming up to brush over the freshly bleached half of her head. “It looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Abruptly, he pulled away from her and stalked over to his friends, throwing an arm around Yeosang’s shoulders. “You’re coming with us,” he said, manhandling the confused man over to his car. “Say bye, precious.”

Rora tsked, but she couldn’t fight the smile threatening to take over her face as she stepped closer to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “You leaving us?” Hongjoong asked, arms crossed over his chest.

She looked between them, mirroring Seonghwa’s pout as she nodded. “Mhm,” she hummed, taking a step closer to them. Her head tilted, teeth nibbling her bottom lip before she pressed up to press a kiss to Seonghwa’s and then Hongjoong’s cheek. When she rocked back onto her heels, Hongjoong reached for her, hand around the back of her neck to pull her close. Noses brushing, breath mingling for only a moment, and then his lips were on hers. Soft and firm, pulling a gasp right from her.

Soft fingers were gripping her chin, turning her head until Hongjoong’s lips disconnected from hers, another pair taking his place. Plush, slightly sticky from some gloss or balm. A tongue teased her bottom lip, cherry exploding in her mouth as she opened up for him. Then nothing, eyes still closed and breaths coming from her in soft pants. The warmth of them retreated, and she whined, much to their amusement. Their laughter had warm breath fanning her face as they pressed twin kisses to each of her cheeks.

“Have fun with Jongho and Yeosangie, bunny,” Seonghwa murmured.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she let herself just…look at him for a moment. “The pink looks really good on you, Hwa,” she said, brushing her fingers through his hair, tucking some loose strands behind his ear. “Like, really good.”

His face went soft with his smile. “Thank you, bunny,” he said. “We’ll see you later, okay?”

She nodded, turned, and scurried over to where Jongho was waiting.

“Wanna sit in the back with Sangie, baby?” He phrased it like a question, like he was merely suggesting it. But it seemed more like a demand. One that she found herself excitedly nodding to, allowing him to open the back door and help her inside.

Yeosang watched as she settled in beside him, eyes wide and lips parted as he watched her hook her seatbelt and smooth her dress out over her thighs.

The ride was tense, thick with something that had anticipation bubbling away in her belly. She caught Jongho’s gaze as he glanced back, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip, breath hitching at the heat there. His eyes darted over to Yeosang for a moment, the corners of his lips ticking up in a mischievous little smirk.

“Did I make a good pick, Yeosangie?” Jongho asked, eyes glancing back through the rearview mirror when the car came to a stop at a red light. “The dress looks so good on her, doesn’t it?” His voice was low, teasing. Knowing. Bordering on sadistic amusement.

Her thighs squeezed shut, fingers curling in the fabric of her dress.

She could feel Yeosang looking at her, could feel it as he took her in, and she looked over to see his eyes on the bare skin of her legs, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Satisfaction bubbled in her chest, head going hazy with need. Her grip tightened on her dress, inching the material up just the slightest bit more.

A noise fell from his parted lips, strong hands flexing where they rested in his lap.

“You can touch me, Yeosangie,” she murmured, letting her thighs fall open just the slightest bit, shifting in his direction, debating just moving into the middle seat.

It was quiet enough in the car that she heard his breath catch in his throat. Heard the shift in his body as he stilled, as he tensed in his spot on the other side of the car. Her breathy giggle filled the silence, and she took the initiative. Unbuckling her belt, she slid quickly into the middle seat, pulling the new buckle over her lap before anyone was even able to reprimand her.

Yeosang started at that, hands coming up as if to stop her, lips parting on a protest. Whatever he was going to say died in his throat when his palm landed on the exposed skin of her thigh. As if of their own accord, his fingers flexed, gripping the supple flesh enough that it indented and dimpled beneath his touch. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, lips parting again, eyes glued to the way the plush of her thighs spilled between the gaps of his fingers. To the way her skin raised with goosebumps at the gentle scrape of the calluses on his hands and her thighs squeezed together once again, emphasizing the plush of them.

“Fuck,” he finally rumbled out.

Rora giggled, letting her fingers trail up his arm as she leaned closer into his space. “D’you like them, Sangie baby?” she asked. “Like my thighs?”

“So soft,” he breathed out, kneading the skin lightly, fingers teasing between the seam of her legs. He groaned when her thighs parted again, and he gripped the inside of her thigh to pull it closer to him.

Before the tease on the tip of her tongue could be fully realized, Jongho was parking the car and glancing back at them, brows raised knowingly and eyes shining with amusement as he caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. He held her stare as he turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt, only looking away when the click of the buckle seemed to jolt Yeosang into motion.

With quick, shaky movements, he unbuckled their belts, opened the door, and pulled her from the car. He stuck behind her, practically glued to her back as she led the way up to her apartment. Apparently, he couldn’t wait. Hands gripped her hips and turned her around, pushing her back against the door. Hand holding the back of her head, he dipped down to crush his lips against hers.

Her surprised noise was muffled by his mouth, one hand coming up to grip her chin, tugging until her mouth opened up enough for his tongue. She melted right there, forgetting that they were in the hallway of her apartment building, that he had her pressed against her door, fingers bunching the fabric of her dress enough that it inched up her ass.

Yeosang shifted, pressed her harder against the door, one of his strong legs pressing in between her own and the hand holding her head trailing down her back to grip her ass. He groaned into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers as he pulled her closer to his body, sending her grinding down against his thigh.

The sharp gasp that elicited echoed in the hallway, and her cheeks flushed. “We gotta go inside, Sangie,” she murmured.

He grunted, lips trailing down her jaw to nip at her ear. “Code?” he asked, breath fanning down her neck.

A shiver worked down her spine, a moan building in her chest when she shifted against his thigh. She whispered the numbers out, hooking a finger in the belt loops of his pants, letting the fingers of her other hand untuck the bottom of his shirt to find the warm skin of his belly.

The hitch of his breathing was covered by the successful beep of her keypad, and he was crowding her, pushing her through the door. They barely paused to take their shoes off at the entrance, stumbling through her apartment, hands frantically gripping at each other's clothes, skin, hair. It was unlike anything she thought would happen with him. The shy man who flirted but could barely meet her eyes as he did. The man whose hands sometimes shook just as bad as hers and whose ears went red when he caught her staring. This same man, in a hurry to get her inside her apartment, to fuck her as quickly as possible.

It was exhilarating.

Yeosang detached himself from her and pushed her over the edge of her bed. She lifted her knees to perch them on the little bit of metal overhang of her bed frame. Wicked bruises would decorate her skin for weeks to come, but they would definitely be well worth it. Her dress was flipped up and her panties were pulled down just far enough to expose her to the air, a hand pressing into her back to arch her hips higher in the air.

“Fuck - yeah, stay like that for me.” His words were frantic, voice low and tense, and she could feel the shaking of his hands intensifying even as they left her skin. She could barely hear his words over the sound of his zipper and the sound of her own heartbeat. There was a clank as his pants fell to the floor and suddenly his cockhead was slipping through her folds, pressing against her clit then sliding back to lodge at her entrance. "Deep breath, angel. Relax."

Rora inhaled at his words. One, two, and her breath was leaving her lungs entirely. He pressed right in, the stretch nearly too much with no prep. But she could already feel herself dripping, could hear the slick sounds with each flex of his hips forward until they finally rested flat against the roundness of her ass.

"Fuck," he gritted out. "Sorry, angel. I wish I could take my time with you. But I just...." he trailed off, hips flexing in a way that had her whining. He whined in response, right into her ear as he collapsed over her. A hand slid up to push her hair up, fingers tangling in the roots, hot breath panted out against the back of her neck as he took a moment, just fully seated inside her. Teeth nipped, lips sucked, and she hoped he left marks behind. “Your thighs in this fucking dress,” he groaned, pressed his hips forward, ground his cock deep inside her until she keened

The door opened, slammed closed. She and Yeosang flinched at the sound, both moaning as the movement sent pleasure through them, and a chuckle filled the space. "Really just couldn't wait, huh, Sangie?" Jongho mused. “Never seen you so impatient. Not even stopping to greet poor Teddy.”

Yeosang huffed, pushed himself up, the hand on her lower back moving to dig into the plush of her hips and ass, strong enough, tight enough, surely, to leave bruises. The hand in her hair tugging her up into a deeper arch, scalp stinging pleasantly and muscles aching with the effort of holding the position, of having his thick fucking cock bullying its way right into her slick cunt.

His hips retreated, then punched forward strong enough that her knees threatened to slip, but his hold on her was strong, pushing her deeper into the mattress. "O-oh, god," she cried out, hands scrambling for something to grab onto, gripping at her blanket until it wrinkled in her fists.

"There you go," Jongho said from behind them, his voice almost a condescending coo that sent a shiver down her spine. "Fuck her like she deserves, Sangie."

Yeosang’s grip in her hair tightened, and he shifted to properly grip her hip, pulling her back to meet each precise thrust. He was slow with it, taking his time now, making her feel each retreat, letting himself enjoy the way she clenched around him, trying to suck him right back in. Her knees were screaming, already bruising, but her blood was singing, skin vibrating with pleasure. “So good,” she panted out, voice breaking on a moan with a particularly sharp thrust.

She heard shuffling, her bedside drawer opening, a triumphant noise. Then, buzzing filled the air. She felt herself clenching around Yeosang's cock at the mere thought of her vibrator.

"Turn her over, Yeo," Jongho murmured, climbing onto the bed beside her. Before she could turn her head to look at him, she was being pushed further up then flipped onto her back, legs caught in Yeosang's hands, hips just barely on the bed. Her panties were pulled the rest of the way off her legs, and in one smooth push, he filled her once more. He pulled her closer by her thighs, fingers kneading at the plush flesh like he just couldn’t get enough of it.

She cried out, back arching, and Jongho caught her wrists to pull them over her head. Her eyes blinked open, and she watched him as he steadied himself before reaching over her, her small black bullet vibrator in his hand.

Her breath caught. "Fuck!” The word came out as a mere squeak when he pressed the toy over her clit, unable to pull in a full breath. Her head flew back, body twisting like it didn't know whether to arch into the sudden pleasure or away from it. The sensation tore through her so fast, she didn’t even have the time to care about a possible noise complaint from any of her neighbors. It felt too good, was too much. She was almost certain that it was an orgasm, but one was already building up, too quickly for it to have been.

She writhed beneath the two of them, hot under their ministrations. “Need,” she whined. “Need my dress off. Get it off, please.”

Jongho was quick to release her wrists and leave her vibrator sitting precariously against her, shoving the fabric up and off. His hands were gentle on her skin, trailing over her ribcage and breast, pressing just firmly enough that she arched up into his touch. Lips were on hers before the dress was even fully over her head, stealing what little breath she had. Strong fingers cupped beneath her chin, teeth nibbled her lip, a tongue swept into her mouth.

The vibrator was pressed more firmly against her once again, and her hands flew down, gripping Yeosang’s wrists as his pace picked up. She moaned into Jongho’s mouth, thighs shaking around Yeosang’s hips so bad that he had to grip them, push them up until she was nearly folded in half. The angle had him sliding deeper, the vibrator stuck between the slick folds of her cunt and the plush of her thighs, shifting with every harsh thrust.

She would have screamed if it weren’t for Jongho pulling back to slap a hand over her mouth. “Feel good, precious?” he murmured right into her ear. A whine was muffled by his hand, and she nodded, eyes wide, unable to focus on him properly with the pleasure continuing to build. “Gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over Sangie’s cock, baby?”

Her moans, though muffled, continued to raise in pitch beneath his palm, her own hands sliding up her torso. Squeezing her breasts. Coming to settle on her throat, pressing just enough that her eyes threatened to roll back.

“So fucking dirty, baby,” Jongho groaned. “Make her cum, Yeosang. I’ve got a little treat in mind for both of you, but I need you to make her cum first.”

She whined when Yeosang stopped moving and removed the vibrator from her, settling her flat against the bed. “What’s your favorite setting, angel?” he asked, voice low and breathless.

Her hand reached out for the little device, flipping through the settings until she found the one that always left her entirely overwhelmed and seeing stars in mere moments. Yeosang shifted her further up the bed, climbing onto the mattress, thick cock hanging heavy between his strong thighs, still shining with her arousal.

She moaned at the sight, at the next display of strength as he folded her in half again, lifting her hips right off the bed. His cock slid along the backs of her thighs, smearing the skin with her own juices and his sticky precum. Then, he was sliding home in a single, slow thrust that had him brushing over that glorious spot.

The cry of his name was muffled by Jongho’s hand, but Yeosang seemed to hear it all the same, an eyebrow lifting and his lips ticking up smugly as each thrust had him hitting that same spot again and again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Right there.”

She worked the vibrator down her torso, a slow line down her belly until she could slip her hand between her thighs. Her eyes widened, rolling back, breath catching on a squeal as she pressed it to her clit, whining as she moved it around to find that perfect angle.

“Fuck,” Yeosang gritted out, head tossing back, his neck and chest flushed a glorious pink as her muscles fluttered around his cock.

Rora gripped Jongho’s hand, sliding it from her mouth to rest heavy on her throat. “Sangie,” she whined. “Sangie, please.”

“Tell me what you need, angel,” he breathed, heavy lidded eyes sliding over her face.

“Harder,” she murmured. “Fuck me harder. Please.”

Yeosang cursed, pausing to brace himself better, gripping her thighs tighter. His next thrust into her was harsh but so. fucking. good. The loud gasp it elicited from her was muffled by the grip Jongho took on her throat. It sent her buzzing, floating, soaring. Almost immediately on the brink of cumming.

“Yesyes, Sangie, please,” she panted out, free hand reaching down to grip at his wrist, reveling in the way the muscles of his forearm flexed beneath her touch, how his hold on her tightened when her nails dug into his skin. She was shaking. From the pleasure. From the sheer strength behind his thrusts. Finding a good grip on the vibrator and holding it where she needed it was proving difficult with just how wet she was, and she whined high in her throat as her climax sat just on the edge and retreated just out of grasp. “Jongie,” she cried, eyes fluttering open to look up at him. “Jongie, please. Can’t.”

“What’s wrong, precious?” he asked, eyes sharp, dark as they slid over her face, taking in the flush of her cheeks and the tears threatening to wet her lashes. “Need some help? Pathetic little thing, aren’t you?” The words were degrading, but there was an affection in his tone that softened the edge.

Rora pouted up at him, nodding even as her eyes rolled back at Yeosang’s next thrust, at the sound he made when she tightened around him, once more on the edge. The vibrator slipped again, and she wanted to sob. Practically did, breath catching and voice cracking as she begged again. “P-please, Jongie. Need help.”

Jongho groaned, grip tightening on her throat briefly before letting her go. “Open her up, Sang. Make a little room,” he ordered, moving so his knees were on either side of her head, hand already sliding down her belly. “Hold on to me, baby. Keep your hands there.”

She did as he said, hands finding purchase behind each sadly still-clothed thigh, squeezing the softness to find the strong muscles nestled underneath. His hips shifted, the barest hint of a twitch forward, but just enough for her to wish his pants were gone. Imagining him above her, cock heavy between those thick thighs, dangling just above her face had her mouth watering. The wish was interrupted, however, when Jongho swiped the vibrator through her wetness, from where she was still stuffed full of Yeosang to the top of her cunt before circling lightly over her clit.

“Good girl,” he murmured. Then, he pressed the toy down. Just the slightest bit more pressure, but enough to have her head throwing back and a cry ripping from her throat. “There you go. Just cum for Sangie and you can have that treat, hmm?”

Muscles flexed beneath her grip, and her hold on him tightened. His hips twitched again. He pressed the vibrator with a little more pressure.

Her body trembled as her orgasm began to build up again, as it threatened to topple her right off the edge of the earth. “Oh, god, please,” she sobbed. “So fucking close.”

“Yeah?” She couldn’t tell who said it, not when all she could hear was her own moans and the wet slap of Yeosang’s hips against her ass, and deep fucking voices groaning out words she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Heard you squirted last night. Think you could do that for me?” She was just barely able to register Yeosang’s distinct timbre, and the sound of it had her shuddering.

“Faster. Harder, please,” she begged, hips twitching only to have both men lock her right back into place, at the perfect angle as Yeosang increased his pace, hitting that perfect spot over and over again with deadly aim. Harder, faster, like she asked, and it had her keening.

“Gonna soak this fucking cock, angel? Can feel you squeezing me, you gonna cum?” He let go of one leg to land a sharp slap to the outside of her thigh, a hot sting that did nothing but push her even closer.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” her voice raised in pitch as she felt it build up, that exquisite feeling from pulling the knot in her belly tight, had her cunt fluttering. “Please, please.” Her words were met with an increase in vibrations against her clit, and she was screaming, a hand slapping over her mouth as she came.

Fingers took the place of Yeosang’s cock when she started to gush. “There you fuckin’ go,” Yeosang rasped out, voice breathy and so fucking low, it had her all but spiraling into another orgasm. Jongho kept the vibrator firmly against her poor clit, Yeosang’s strong fingers continually pressing against her sensitive walls to milk her of every drop they could get from her, until she was sobbing and writhing in their holds and there was a puddle under her ass.

“Good girl,” Jongho murmured, fingers carding through her hair to help her come back down enough to register gentle hands massaging her hips and soft kisses and nips littering her thighs. Her eyes blinked open to find him looking down at her, gaze soft, bordering on concern. “You good?”

The giggle that fell from her lips couldn’t be helped. Not when her heart gave a little flutter and her tummy swarmed with butterflies “So good,” she confirmed.

She watched in real time as his expression shifted, going from soft to sharp, from warm to cold. A shiver worked down her body as a smirk came to his face.

“Wanna know what that treat is?” he asked, still smoothing her hair back from her face as she nodded. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, head tilting down to tease his lips over her own. “How about you smother our Sangie with your pretty cunt and thighs while I fuck you full? How does that sound?”

Rora moaned at the thought. “Please,” she murmured, tipping up to press her lips to his only to be left whining and wanting when he moved away.

A huff of laughter warmed her face before he turned to his friend. “What about you, Sangie? You okay with it?”

Cheeks still flushed with exertion turned a darker red, and Yeosang swallowed. Lips parted, releasing a breath before he nodded.

“Words.” Jongho’s tone was firm, eyes even moreso, and it sent her heart racing.

“Y-yeah,” Yeosang stuttered out. “I’m okay with that.”

“Lay down,” Jongho instructed, watching his friend pull his shirt over his head and lay down in the center of the mattress, watching as Yeosang’s fingers fidgeted with the wrinkles of her blankets, clenching and unclenching, cheeks brightening further when his still very hard cock gave a little twitch under both their gazes.

Jongho, seeming to finally take pity on his friend, turned to her. “Straddle him, baby.”

She did as he said, slinging a leg over Yeosang’s hips to hover above him. He looked up at her, brows furrowed and eyes shining and lips parted. So eager and expectant and soso fucking beautiful, she couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him.

The kisses were slow, deep, and his breath caught when she sucked on his bottom lip. A whine rumbled in his chest when her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly to angle him so she could trail kisses down his chin and nibble along his jaw. His soft moans filled the air when she sucked a little mark beneath his ear, his whole body stirring, muscles tensing. But his hands stayed rooted in the sheets and his hips against the mattress. Being so patient. So fucking good.

She kissed him until she was breathless. Until his mouth was shiny with her spit and his eyes were dazed and every sound that fell from him was raspy and whiny and he was shaking with a need that mirrored her own.

Until Jongho sighed and tangled a hand in her hair to yank her upright. “That’s enough, baby.” He tugged her hair again, his other hand coming around to cup her throat, aiding in tipping her head back so she could look at him. Those gorgeous eyes locked with hers, shining as they looked over her wrecked face, lips ticking up with a smirk that threatened to steal what was left of her breath as he leaned closer.

“It’s time to sit on Sangie’s pretty face.” He paused long enough to look over her face, letting his eyes stray to his friend when he whined at his words, brow quirking up before turning his attention back to her. “Are you going to listen?”

“Yes,” she breathed, all but trembling as he looked over her face again.

“Yes?” His eyes raked over her face, brows arched expectantly.

“M’gonna listen, bear.” The words came out on a whine, struggling under his intense gaze and the feeling of Yeosang tensing, all but shivering beneath her.

He nodded, letting her go with a satisfied, approving hum. A shiver worked through her at the sound of him pulling his belt through the loops of his jeans, and she gasped when he jerked her arms behind her, looping the still-warm leather around her wrists, tight enough to feel but loose enough that she could escape if she wanted to. “Keep your hands there,” he murmured, helping her shuffle up Yeosang’s body until her thighs caged his head. His hand snuck around her, fingers brushing Yeosang’s hair back with the backs of his fingers, brushing right over his birthmark, making his eyes flutter at the touch.

“Go on, Yeosangie,” Jongho all but purred. “Make our girl feel good again, hmm?”

Yeosang looked so fucking gorgeous beneath her, cheeks red and hair a mess, eyes looking up at her with so much hunger she couldn’t help the little whimper slipping from her throat. She hovered above him, marveling as his eyes all but crossed to take her in, head lifting off the bed to press a kiss right over her clit. It was a whisper of a touch, but it was enough to have her hips jerking in surprise.

His eyes came to her face again, shining with amusement and heat, staying locked with her own as he licked up her cunt. She yelped when strong hands gripped her thighs, pulling her flush against Yeosang’s face. He wasted no time, diving right in, brows furrowed and eyes closed like he was savoring her. LIke hse was the tastiest damn thing he had ever had on his tongue.

Jongho shifted around behind her, the rustling of clothing piquing her interest, the strong grip he took on her restrained wrists even more so. He plastered his bare torso to her back, hard cock nestled against her ass as he nosed along the line of her neck. “You’re gonna take it all like a good girl, right, baby?” he murmured, voice barely more than a rasp in her ear.

It had her shivering in his hold, body arching with the combination of his voice and a pointed suck to her clit from Yeosang. “Yes, yes, please,” she begged.

He groaned hotly against her neck, teeth digging into the skin there until she gasped. Then, he was pushing her forward, until she could no longer see Yeosang looking up at her and her face and chest met the cool wall. “Stay like that for me,” he said, gripping her wrist harder.

His cock swiped through her folds, spreading the wetness from her hole down to where Yeosang’s tongue continued to work at her clit and back again. The broad head lodged there for one breathless moment. “Yeosangie, if you need to breathe or get uncomfortable, tap one of us, okay? Two times.”

Yeosang hummed the affirmative against her, and she had to swallow back a whine at the sensation.

“Can you do it? Just so I know you understand?” Yeosang let go of one of her thighs and must have tapped Jongho, because Jongho hummed. “Good boy, Yeosangie.”

That got a reaction out of him, a full body shiver working through him, hard enough that she felt it. “Such a good boy,” she agreed, just to get another reaction out of him, wishing she had her hands so she could work her fingers through his hair, to caress his gorgeous face.

He whined right into her cunt, suctioning against her clit until she cried out.

Finally, Jongho was pressing harder, working the head of his cock into her. So fucking slow. So fucking thick. She groaned as he paused. “You ready, precious?” he asked, hand pressing against the back of her neck, gripping around to the sides to press down against the exact spot that made her brain grow hazy.

“Yesyesyes,” she chanted breathlessly, eyes nearly rolling back as Yeosang’s tongue laved around her folds, as Jongho’s thick fucking cock stretched her open.

Then, he was sliding home in one slow, smooth glide. The stretch was a lot, cock so fucking thick. So fucking delicious. She keened when his hips finally met her ass. “So fucking-” her words left her as he ground his hips against her, pressing deeper before starting a slow withdrawl that had her walls clamping down with every inch.

The hand on her neck slid down her back, nails dragging and calluses catching until it landed on her ass. Jongho gripped one cheek roughly, pulling away to leave a slap that echoed through her apartment. “Fuck,” she choked out.

His next thrust was harsher, quicker. The withdrawl even moreso. Eventually, he picked up a brutal pace, his hips meeting her ass with sharp slaps that rivaled in volume against the sounds of her wetness and the sounds leaving her throat. Yeosang’s grip on her thighs tightened as Jongho’s thrusts had her sliding further up his face, his nose nudging her clit until he gripped her tighter to pull her back into place. Still, he kept at. Circling her clit, sucking it into his mouth, introducing the faintest edge of teeth just to drive her insane. Entirely unbothered by the lack of air, gasping for breath right against her sopping cunt, pressing her down harder. Like he wanted her to suffocate him. Who was she to deny him?

Her thighs were tight around his head, trembling with the strain of remaining upright at the face of so much pleasure.

She yelped as Jongho yanked her off the wall, tugging her back by her wrists, right into his chest. Hand coming to her throat, squeezing until her eyes rolled back, his other hand trailing down her belly to spread her further open for his cock and Yeosang’s greedy tongue. His fingers pressed briefly against her clit, rubbing teasing little circles there even as Yeosang kept at it. The next second, those fingers were shoved into her mouth.

Moaning, she licked her arousal and Yeosang’s saliva off them, loving the way he pushed the digits further into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue. Her hips were starting to move, grinding in slow circles, unable to figure out whether she should push back into Jongho’s thrusts or grind down into Yeosang’s eager mouth.

The fingers in her mouth were yanked away, a wet slap meeting her cheek, not hard but enough to sting with shame. “Be fucking still,” Jongho growled. “You take what we give you or you get nothing.”

She whined but stilled, letting them work her as they pleased.

“Good fucking girl,” Jongho grunted, pushing his fingers back into her mouth, hips picking up their pace once more.

Yeosang’s hand left her leg for a moment, and Jongho was hauling her further up on her knees, pushing her into the wall again. A hand held the back of her neck, and she clamped down on his cock at the move, at the feeling of Yeosang’s hot panting against her wetness.

He was babbling beneath her, and she wished she could see his face. Wished she could see how absolutely fucked out he looked. “Need you to come on my face,” he whined, thumb finding home on her clit, rubbing in maddening circles and figure eights. “Please, please, please, angel. Need you to come so bad. Soak my fucking face. Soak Jongie’s cock, baby. Please.”

The hand on her neck slid up to tangle in her hair, pulling until her back arched. The angle had Jongho’s cock sliding impossibly deeper, hitting a spot that had her practically screaming. A hand covered her mouth, forcing her to breath through her nose, muffling her sounds.

“So fucking loud, baby. Like you want all your neighbors to hear.”

Her eyes nearly rolled back in her skull when he picked up his pace, when Yeosang’s mouth found her clit again, despite her being held above him. Whines and whimpers, pleas for her to cum muffled into her cunt, fingers still going at her clit.

Jongho’s lips were at her neck, teeth nibbling up until his hot breath brushed her ear. “Sangie’s begging so pretty for you to come, baby. Don’t you think you should reward him? Gonna come for us, precious?”

Her response was muffled by his hand, but he seemed to understand the enthusiastic sound. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound of it sending a shiver down her spine. “Yeah, you are. C’mon, baby. Come like a good little slut,” he said, voice so silky she moaned into his hand.

That was all it took, apparently. A suggestion, a degradation wrapped in praise, the low rumble of a voice, and she was on the edge. Whining into the sweat-slicked palm over her mouth, teeth digging into the flesh as the pressure in her belly built up and up. Jongho grunted, fingers gripping her hair tighter, hips pushing harder, faster in retaliation.

Yeosang’s efforts doubled, sucking and rubbing her clit in tandem to Jongho’s cock bullying into her cunt. The pleasure, the sheer stretch, the wet sounds bouncing off the walls had her feeling hot. Too hot. Too close. So fucking close. It was the brush of Yeosang’s teeth, a particularly sharp, stuttered thrust from Jongho that had her falling apart. Shaking and screaming as Jongho chased his own orgasm, sobbing out with each stuttered thrust, trembling when he finally spilled into her, each pulse inside her, each continued suckle from Yeosang’s lips, making her sensitive walls clench down around him.

She was still recovering, ears ringing and breathing erratic, when Jongho pulled out, laughing affectionately at her little whimper, and shuffled her lax body around to lay her down on the bed. Hands smoothed over her skin, steady fingers working the belt from her wrists, rubbing gentle circles into the no doubt red skin.

There was shuffling, a murmured exchange, and a body was over her. A whimpered “Angel?” had her fluttering her eyes open. Yeosang hovered above her, face flushed and eyes blown. He was trembling, hips twitching, neglected cock hanging heavy and dark red between his strong thighs.

“Poor Yeosangie. Do you still need to come, baby?” she cooed, running a hand down his sweat-slicked torso.

His voice broke on a whine when her hand encircled his cock, back arching when she gave a slow stroke from base to tip. “Fuck, please,” he begged, voice a mere thread of sound, cracking like he might start crying if she made him wait any longer. “Please. Need to come. Hurts.”

“Poor thing,” she murmured, pulling him down for a kiss, working her hand along him in slow strokes that had him shaking. “Been so good and patient this whole time. D’you wanna use my thighs, baby?”

He all but sobbed at the suggestion, lips trembling against her own.

A kiss was pressed to his mouth, trailing along his cheek, down his jaw. “There’s lube in the drawer. You wanna get it for me, baby? Get your pretty cock nice and ready to fuck my thighs?”

Yeosang was leaning over and fumbling for her bedside drawer before she had even finished her words. She giggled as he came back into position above her, nearly dropping the bottle as he tried to pop it open. “Calm down, Sangie,” she said, reaching to rub her thumb up the line of his jaw. “Just take a breath for me.”

His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, his chest swelling with an inhale at her words. He exhaled slowly, grip loosening on the bottle of lube and trembling just a little less.

“There you go, good boy,” she murmured, taking the bottle from his hand and opening it up herself. She let it dribble right over his cock, catching the extra with her hand before slicking him up.

The whine that ripped from his chest was delicious, the shiver that raked his body even more so. “Fuck,” he breathed, gasping and gripping her skin so tightly she was sure there would be bruises.

“C’mon, baby,” she said, tugging him closer by his cock, lifting her legs to incase him in the warmth of her legs. “Use my thighs to get off.”

Yeosang was gone before her hand even had the time to abandon his cock, gripping her thighs tight as he fucked between them. Muffled groans and soft pants blessed her ears, and she watched Yeosang push in. The wet, red head peeking from between her thighs, with each rut of his hips, hands kneading and squeezing her flesh until spurts of warmth covered them. He was a vision between her legs, gorgeous muscles shifting beneath sweat-slicked skin with each thrust of his hips. When he came, his head fell back, hair fluffing out about his head, strands sticking to his flushed face as he moaned, voice cracking as his release covered the skin of her thighs.

Rora pulled him over her as he came down, running her fingers through his hair and murmuring little affirmations in his ear as he came down. His body had just stopped shaking, relaxing over her own like a living, breathing weighted blanket when Jongho walked out of the bathroom, looking warm and freshly showered, dressed in a pair of sweats and without a shirt. He smiled when he noticed her looking - so open and relaxed and so fucking beautiful in her space - running a hand through his still-damp hair as he walked closer.

“Drew a bath for you and Sangie,” he announced softly, pushing her hair back from her face then smoothing Yeosang’s in a slow stroke. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Running her hand down Yeosang’s back, Rora hummed. “Ready whenever you are, Sangie,” she murmured. “Though, I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk all the way there on my own.”

Jongho laughed, pretty gummy smile on full display. “Need me to carry you again, precious?”

She pouted, but nodded nonetheless, wrapping her arms around Yeosang’s shoulders as he shifted against her.

“It’s good Jongho is here,” he said, voice a mere croak. “I don’t think I can walk, either.”

There was silence, and then a yelp as Yeosang was dragged off her and into the air. “I’m still naked, fucker,” he exclaimed.

Jongho huffed a laugh, settling his friend over his shoulders. “Your tongue literally touched my cock less than five minutes ago. I think we’re past a little naked manhandling.”

Yeosang’s face went red. “Shut up,” he whined, smacking Jongho on the back of the head lightly.

Jongho simply laughed and walked his friend to the bathroom, and she couldn’t help but giggle as they bickered even for the short walk. Despite the warmth in her chest, she started to shiver, the air of the room finally settling on her sweaty skin. Luckily, Jongho was back quickly, scooping her up from the bed and cradling her close to him.

The bathroom was dim when he stepped through the door, the overhead light off in favor of a flickering candle and the warm glow of the plug-in diffuser. Vanilla and jasmine and amber filled the air, and she wanted to melt. She did melt, even, right into Yeosang’s arms when Jongho lowered her into the slightly-too-warm water of the bath. Their touches on her skin rivaling the softness of the bubbles filling the tub.

She watched Jongho knelt on the floor beside the tub, his fingers dipping into the water, gliding over her skin until she shivered and relaxed further into Yeosang’s hold.

“How are you?” he asked lightly.

“Hmm?” Rora tilted her head back against Yeosang’s shoulder, letting her cheek brush against his own before turning her head to look at Jongho directly, her brows furrowing. “How am I?”

“I’m just checking in, baby,” he said, the corner of his lips tilting up teasingly. “It’s part of that aftercare you were so curious about last night.”

Her cheek went hot and she pouted. “I was not curious about it,” she whined. “I just said it was unexpected.”

He hummed, eyes still twinkling at her. “Whatever you say, precious,” he said, grabbing a washcloth and lathering it up with her body wash. “I do need you to answer me, though. How are you? Was everything okay?”

The grin that came to her face was brimming with the affection building rapidly in her chest. “Yes, bear,” she murmured, relaxing into the way he ran the cloth over her body. “Everything was okay. Better than, even.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise, bear.” she reached out to him, wet fingers trailing lightly over the curve of his jaw. “Wouldn’t have changed a single thing.”

He turned his head, catching the tips of her fingers with a little nip of teeth, following it up with a gentle kiss that had her giggling.

“What about you, Yeosnagie?”

Yeosang stirred beneath her, a startled noise coming from his throat, like he hadn’t expected Jongho to check on him too. “Me?” he asked, arms tightening around her.

Jongho’s laugh in response was soft, so full of affection and years of love for his friend. “Yes, you,” he said, running the cloth up Yeosang’s arm and over his shoulder, making him shiver at the touch. “That was a new experience for us, and I want to make sure there weren’t any boundaries crossed in the heat of the moment. Just need to know you aren’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” Yeosang answered. A little too quickly, if Jongho’s lifted brow was any indication. “I am. I’m okay, Jong.”

“Sure you’re not uncomfortable about something and just being nice about it?”

“When was the last time I did that for you?” Yeosang shot back, making her and Jongho laugh.

“Good point.”

“It was okay. I…” he trailed off for a moment, shifting behind her. She glanced back to see him looking down, eyes refusing to look at either of them, teeth worrying his lower lip. “I liked everything that happened.”

Her eyes shot to Jongho, and she watched as he melted right there. His face softened, his shoulders relaxed, and he settled further down on his heels. “Thank you for your honesty, Yeosangie,” he murmured. “And thank you for trusting me in that situation.”

26 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 3 months ago

Text

higher power

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: waiting for jungkook to love again doesn't guarantee you a permanent romantic spot in his life, even if you've been in love with him the longest.

alternatively, you promised yourself to keep confessing to jungkook, your brother's best friend, every year until you turn twenty-eight.

[ fluff, angst, Drastic Yearning that it's painful to watch, tangled with the take five universe yippeeee, slippery slopes, mentions of cheating (there's none in actuality), jungkook's a bit mean :(, lots of self-deprecation n the concept of having to deserve love, mentions of surgery (appendectomy if we r being specific), homage to agust d's 28 (i fucking love u yoongi i miss u), arguments, redemption ]

notes: bring back men who YEARN!!! 😑😑

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

There's a step in your childhood home's staircase that Jungkook always trips on.

Your dad, and even your brother, Yoongi, repeatedly vow to fix it whenever they hear the all too familiar sound of Jungkook tripping on it. The way he’d wince because of it every single time is comedic, if not extremely endearing, because Jungkook would always clamp his hand down on his mouth as to not disturb anyone.

Doing his very best each time, Jungkook would have to clutch the banister as he waits for the pain to subside. He wants to groan loudly with everything that he has, but he can’t risk putting your dad in trouble with your mom by yelling at him to stop hurting Jungkook from delaying the repair of the step.

He even wants to collapse in pain sometimes (Jungkook’s not joking when he says that he almost wiped out so hard to the point that he only saw white and started tasting colors), but he tries not to, because if he falls and makes a commotion, he knows you’d immediately stand up and forfeit the already limited computer-borrowing hours you have because of Yoongi.

“I’d fix the step for you, y’know?” you mutter under your breath as you try to keep your laughter at bay, once again serving as the crutch to your brother’s best friend who’d completely entertain the possibility that your family has it out for him, if not for all the warmth that you give him. “If only Yoongi would lend me his computer for more than an hour and I didn’t have a ton of requirements, I could really hack it out with a single video.”

“Of course you will,” Jungkook snorts under his breath, his inability to feel embarrassment over being critically profiled by your one (1) wooden step (because he’s just gotten hurt so repeatedly that it’s nothing new for him) being overtaken by his raging ability to feel shy, just because it always has to be you to pick him up.

It can’t be anyone else at this point.

It can’t be your brother, because all Yoongi would do is attempt to fix the step with his stock knowledge (to which there is none), and Jungkook knows he would be in further danger if his friend takes a crack at it. It can’t be your parents either, because your mom is a little too wired to the point that she’d want to replace the whole staircase if she sees a mismatched, temporary fix, and your dad is a little too lax to the point that he’s the type to ask Jungkook what color he tastes as his version of a pain scale.

It has to be you, because although everyone in the house has seen Jungkook at his worst at all his various points of life, you’re yet to lose your faith in him.

It’s not to say that your family has already lost respect for him (not even by a long shot), but Jungkook figures that it can’t be that bad letting you in because amongst everyone, the lowest point you know him by is him just being extremely upset over his girlfriend breaking up with him and that’s it.

While your parents know about him sleeping over in your house meant he fought with his very own and couldn’t stand staying in his room for another second, or how Yoongi knows that Jungkook’s strapped for cash because the latter keeps pacing in their dorm trying to panic-clean as he waits for callbacks from part-time jobs he applied for — the only low that Jungkook lets you see is him being distraught over his first love.

Jungkook doesn’t get idolized that much. He’s not a prized son like how your brother is, and neither is he known in college for being smart. He’s not actually a superlative like how he knows you think of him, and the realization of your crush on him makes Jungkook feel conflicted whether it rains or pours.

He doesn’t like you like that, but that’s never stopped you before.

You know about Sora and how first loves have this intoxicating, vice-like grip on everyone, along with the fact that even glancing at an upset Jungkook makes you upset, but that’s never hindered you before.

He wants to let you down as gently as he could, because the last thing he ever wants to do is make his best friend’s sister develop a complex from being rejected. Jungkook knows he’s handsome (read: he’s attempting to be humble), and kind, and maybe even charming on a good day; above all, he’s realistic.

He doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks definitively as you glare at him through the rear-view mirror from the backseat, because you mistakenly assumed that the extra can of coffee in the cup holder was for you instead of Sora whom he was tasked to pick up right after you, and Yoongi had to correct you with a snicker.

Jungkook doesn’t want you to depend on him— he thinks hesitantly as he hears you shriek from the bottom of the staircase.

“Shit! God, that fucking-…” you seethe, attempting to keep yourself stable in all fours right after tripping on Jungkook’s cursed step. It’s never hurt any of you before except him, and now that it finally does, you don’t get how he could’ve kept quiet all this time.

Jungkook rushes down and Yoongi comes after, the latter cussing under his breath as he heads back to his room to retrieve his first-aid kit and (hopefully) patch you up with what he’s learning in pre-med.

“What happened? Don’t tell me you were trying to break in your heels again,” Jungkook chastises you as he gets you to sit upright, the frustrated and pained tears cornering from your eyes immediately making him apologetic with his approach.

“I wasn’t! You sound just like Yoongi,” you spit, keeping in a sniffle with your arms across your chest, looking away to hide your tears because you don’t want Jungkook to see just how badly you’re torn over your ankles and knees burning.

He deflates at that, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to calm himself down with the sound of Yoongi bounding down the stairs with a first-aid kit and his notes like it’s some return-demonstration, except he can actually practice on you.

“I’m sorry. I just thought you were doing something-…” Jungkook apologizes, the word stupid being cut off from his lips, not only because Yoongi’s shooing him away, but because he can’t bring himself to stomach the gaze you have directed at him.

Jungkook does back away, with very little coaxing, as he disappears when Yoongi starts asking you if you’re in pain anywhere else with the most serious, professional voice you’ve ever heard him pull.

While your brother fixes your ankle up at the bottom of the stairs, Jungkook soon appears behind you with your dad’s toolbox and the most unreadable look to his face.

While Yoongi dashes to his room again to look for his camera to take a picture of the work he did on your ankle alone so he can reference it later, Jungkook washes his hands in the kitchen sink before patting a damp, clean towel to your knees.

Jungkook’s not in pre-med, and he doesn’t live in your house either.

What he is, is your brother’s best friend who’s extremely apologetic.

"Thanks. Love you," you mumble out of habit, meaning the words sincerely even if they leave your mouth every time someone does something remotely sweet towards you.

You still mean them nonetheless, and the prospect of repeating your sentiments doesn’t seem so bad when it’s him.

You’re eighteen when you first confess to Jungkook.

"I'm just patching your knee up...?" he trails off in confusion, later laughing when he finally sees the shake of your head that lets him know that you, too, felt embarrassed.

You still mean them regardless, even if you feel like taking them back.

You’re eighteen when Jungkook fixes the step in the staircase of your childhood home, not because it always trips him, but because you did that one time.

( ♡ )

Jungkook has a habit of coming over unannounced.

In between all your parents' insisting that your house is also his for him to run to anytime, to your brother realizing that being friends with Jungkook meant having to see him in unhealthy doses because he has no other choice, Jungkook effectively integrated himself to the quilt of your life.

He's a lived-in, well-loved shirt that's cut up and fashioned into a granny square, along with a hundred other versions of him that you've had the privilege of seeing; it's actually ironic because Jungkook's left a lot of his items, of himself, both in your childhood house and your shared apartment with your brother, and he's never batted an eye once about their whereabouts.

Jungkook doesn't question why your parents posted a picture of your old beloved dog wearing a shirt of his from elementary to Facebook, but he does save the picture immediately and make it his wallpaper.

He doesn't question either why Yoongi's cap collection is growing and why he keeps insisting that he bought it himself (even if Jungkook can still place the faint smell of his shampoo on it), but he does make sure every now and then to actually gift him one in exchange for the uncountable favors your brother's done for him.

Most importantly, Jungkook doesn't question you either when he sees his hairtie on your wrist when you open the door for him.

He knows not to bring up anything about your crush over him (not unless it's you starting the conversation about Your Feelings For Him, which practically happens only once a year), or how he really hates it when his hairties go missing. Even Yoongi isn't spared from his annoyance, because in Jungkook's defense, your brother's too rich to go steal from the godsend, usually-expensive ten-pack that he managed to buy on sale.

Jungkook doesn't point out the red elastic on your wrist. He ignores the starry-gazed look you only have for him, except now, your eyes are only narrowed and hollow over his sudden appearance.

That's the only thing he can't shake off.

"Is your brother home?" he asks his original intention for his visit, shifting his weight from one foot to another because of the lackluster, blank gaze you have on that keeps piercing him. "You okay?"

"Won't be home for another hour."

Jungkook laughs at your curt reply, eyes widening in sarcasm as he shakes his head, the snort that leaves him catching him off-guard too. He can’t place why he’s annoyed over the possibility of you being any less than delighted to see him, and truly, he’s trying not to sound like a narcissist; he’s only ever really cared about his image when you were concerned.

"That was a lot of attitude."

You and Jungkook don't really fight. You don't fight with each other because there's barely anything that you disagree about, but when you do fight with him (not if), it's unlike any of the fights you have with Yoongi.

You don't fight with Jungkook as if he's your brother, because he's not.

You don't fight with him either as if he's only your brother's friend, because you don't want him to be.

With Jungkook, there's guilt that settles in your bones when you don't reconcile before you go to sleep. There's an unspeakable force that actually makes you doubt yourself, when usually, you'd know to your gut that you were in the right every single time you fought with Yoongi.

With Jungkook, you don't get an unspoken promise that you'll just forget about whatever happened.

It's him, after all.

"Hey, woah. What's wrong with you?" Jungkook reacts with a frown when you refuse to grace him with a reply, following you into the apartment with a firm grasp on your forearm.

It's not the first time you've ever turned your back on because you didn't want to talk, and it's not the first time either that he's had to physically chase after you. Jungkook's been through this before: he's been through it as the occasional referee between you and Yoongi on your heated fights growing up. He knows how quickly you could shut yourself off, but he didn't know it would feel this weird being at the receiving end of it.

He didn't know it would feel this jarring.

"Nothing. Let me go," you mutter, jerking your arm away from him that only makes Jungkook huff.

He's supposed to be understanding, that much he knows. He's supposed to be the older, mature one between you both, but there's just something about you being short with him that makes Jungkook feel rewired, for better and for worse.

"So something is wrong with you," he insists, rolling his eyes when he follows you even into the kitchen, the two of you knowing well that you're just passively opening the fridge (and a hundred other cupboards) so you could lose him.

"Can you leave me alone?"

"You opened the door for me, sweetheart," Jungkook sarcastically hums, the smile on his face even more insufferable than your furrowed brows that have not loosened even once since seeing him.

"Because you're clearly here for Yoongi," you remind, the edge of your voice slamming harder than the last drawer against its base. Jungkook would wince about it if only he hadn’t spent the better part of your entire interaction loathing the way you talk to him, making his ears ring.

"Can't I be here for you too?" he offers, the sincerity coming across as half-baked pity into your system.

Jungkook didn't even look sure with his own question.

The roll of your eyes makes Jungkook even more annoyed, his irritation bordering on anger that he can't even place. He didn't even get this worked up over his fights with your brother, and the two of them have even went so close as to getting physical multiple times.

"What was that for?"

"You're clearly lying," you mutter, settling for folding your clothes angrily right in front of him. You’re not even fazed that you’re just three sleep shirts away from folding your own underwear in front of him because it’s the least of your concerns.

Now, the only thing you can think about is how Jungkook’s beyond clueless. For all you know, he doesn’t even care about why you’re acting the way you were because simply (and realistically, in your case) put, Jungkook just wants you to remain the same. He just wants you to remain as the mainstay, familiar figure everywhere he goes who makes him feel better just by giving him a default, love-sick glance and nothing less.

You’re not a dog waiting around for him by the front door.

You think you’re more of a mutt waiting to be seen at the porch when nobody else inside wants to do his tricks.

"What are we even talking about right now?" Jungkook nudges the laundry basket away with his foot, the scowl you give him making him shrink momentarily. "You're the one who's starting something and I literally just got here."

"I'm not starting anything."

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong, huh?"

The simple and seemingly mundane question makes you dart up, unceremoniously dropping the same shirt you’ve been pretending to fold in the neatest, tightest rectangle as possible.

You should be relieved at the prompt because it meant you didn’t have to bring it up out of nowhere. You should be happy at the cue because whatever you’ll answer, it would mean that Jungkook asked for it.

You should be anything but the way you’re feeling now with the words scratching your throat from the inside, because with your feelings out in the open (even more than what you’ve already given time and time again), you feel even more tense.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sora were back together?"

Jungkook expected everything but the simple, one-dimension question. He didn’t anticipate for you to ask something that he could give you an answer to but refuse to. He just sits beside you, eerily still with the dumbest look on his face that keeps pleading you to just drop this even if you barely even started, his wide eyes blinking with confusion.

"I didn't-..." he clears his throat, looking down on his lap briefly because looking at you the whole time, as he composes his words, would mean his defeat. He didn’t know exactly why or how he’d be losing by looking at you directly as he professes the truth, but all he knows for sure is that however he does it, you’d never be the winner. “I didn't think I had to tell you, Y/N," he laughs uneasily. "I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of her."

"Neither is Yoongi, but he still got to know," you chuckle dryly, the shrug of your shoulder being far too lax that it convinces neither of you that you were really okay with it.

"Because he's my best friend," Jungkook exasperates, the tired sigh that leaves his lips making you buckle by the knees despite being seated.

You never wanted to disappoint him. You never wanted to be looked down upon, most especially by Jungkook, because every little detail adds up into your head like an overtired piggy bank you don’t ever want to let go of, even if keeping it close to you means it would lose its value.

You’re keeping score, even if Jungkook never did. You’re more wired than he’ll ever be, and just the slightest slip of his attitude (even the tiniest upset sigh from his lips or a clench of his jaw) makes it known to you that he wouldn’t understand how it feels to be pathetically reliant over the slightest chance at love.

"Am I not?" you snap. "Will I just be Yoongi's little sister to you forever?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that's not what I meant," he spits defensively, brows knitting in genuine disdain because he can’t even think how a vile thought has ever crossed your mind.

"Then finish the sentence, Jungkook," you goad. “If I'm not your best friend, and if I'm not your best friend's sister either, what exactly am I?"

Jungkook sharply sucks in a breath, screwing his eyes shut as you mess with every last bit of his inhibition. He never liked fighting with you, and whenever you actually did, he’d be ridden with guilt even before said fight is concluded. He doesn’t like hurting you that way because Jungkook knows, truly, that he’d be more capable of inflicting it on you than you ever could for him.

Or so he thinks.

He knows he does it every time (even if he shoves the fact deep to the back of his memory) that he comes around. He knows he does every time he gives you either a carefree laugh or a sorry hand on the small of your back every time you confess.

He even knows he’s hurting you now.

"I didn't tell you because I know you would disapprove."

"When has that ever stopped you?" you scoff, the soft, lived-in quality of the hairtie on your person suddenly making your wrist itch. ��If I never saw her story, that's just it then? If I never asked Yoongi, you wouldn't tell me?"

"Why's it such a big deal?" Jungkook throws his head back in disbelief, briefly recalling the way he looked happy, content, in the picture Sora shared from last night. “Why does it matter so badly to you whether I get back with Sora or not?"

"Because you matter badly to me!" you exclaim, digging your nails into the palms of your hands to stop them from flailing and finding their way to Jungkook’s arms to hold him still, not because he’s thinking about leaving, but because you don’t want to leave and you want to be reminded of it. ”Are we not best friends, Jungkook? A-are we— are we just people who see each other practically everyday?" you swallow the lump in your throat. “When I see you, I tell you about how my day went. I tell you about what I'm thinking. I... I've never withheld anything from you.”

There was never a time you’ve hidden anything from Jungkook. He’d been the witness of everything, both significant and pointless, in your life. He’s your best friend. He’s your Jungkook, whether or not in the way you want him to be.

The only thing is that Jungkook can’t say the same for you.

"That's you, then," he rasps thickly, exhaling with his teeth grinding together from how tight his jaw is clenching. "Do you see me snooping about who you're with? Do you see me hounding you about your boyfriends and-..."

"I don't tell you shit because I don't have any of that," you interrupt. “What I only have is you and you know that!”

You’re barely getting into the thick of it when the front door opens and your brother appears like a lifeline for Jungkook and the complete opposite of it for you, the stupid, hopeful smile on his face with the accompanying words of "I bought chicken!" making everything in your chest seem forgotten.

You're twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that not only does he still not see you as a woman he’s in love with, but he also doesn’t see you as his best friend. You’re twenty-two when you throw a tantrum in the middle of dinner, ripping off Jungkook’s hairtie from your wrist and tossing it in the trash, right after he cuts up your favorite boneless chicken for you in front of your brother.

Back then, you were nineteen when Jungkook gave you the first slice of his birthday cake, even if you spent a month saving up for the expensive, heavy-duty hard drive for his gift and even longer writing up the letter that was saved as the only document in the device, only for him to spend less than five minutes to scan your letter and move on with cutting the cake that’s not even in the flavor that you liked.

You were twenty when Jungkook replaced your flat tire for you because you didn’t want to anger Yoongi who only warmed up to lend you his new car after incessant begging for three months. You were twenty when you held up the umbrella so the rain wouldn’t soak him and get into his eyes while he saved your life, the words “thank you, love you” slipping out of you from habit, only for Jungkook to loosen his hold on the wrench for the briefest second before resuming.

You were twenty-one when he gave you his shirt to wear after coming home drunk to your shared apartment with Yoongi, because surely, your brother seeing you in his best friend’s clothing would be far less concerning than seeing you practically blackout wasted. You were only twenty-one when you wore his shirt backwards and inside-out (because Jungkook refused to even look in your direction at the time), clutching to him tightly while letting it slip: “It should be me, not Sora,” you muttered, while Jungkook only tucked you into the couch and answered Sora on the phone, telling her that she has to babysit you for the night.

The only thing you have is Jungkook and he insists that he doesn’t know it.

He insists that the both of you are neither lovers or friends, but instead, something less and far worse.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook tells you that he doesn’t get why he and Sora and the state of their relationship matter so greatly to you, and you’re also only twenty-two when you first block Jungkook’s number for just a few hours so he wouldn’t bother you when he’s on his way home.

You’re twenty-two when you realize that Jungkook didn’t even leave you a message in the first place.

( ♡ )

Little by little, everything’s looking up for your family.

For starters, your mom’s no longer accidentally misusing emojis and abbreviations whenever she texts in the family group chat. You don’t have to be choking over air when she texts KYS after you tell her that you had a bad day (she thinks it means Keep Your Smile), and Yoongi doesn’t have to wince when she sends a tombstone emoji after telling her that he had a difficult time with one of his patients (she thinks it’s a gray cathedral window, and it’s her way of telling him to look outside and take a breather).

Your dad’s also looking into being more of a handyman in the house, now that they’re practically empty nesters most weeks of the month and Jungkook fixing your step that one (1) time sparked something in him.

Yoongi’s even happier doing his residency, enough for him to not collapse face-down on your coach and talk to you through muffled yelling about who should order what.

Everyone who’s most important to you have things looking up for them and oddly enough, contrary to your own belief, it gives you a little hope. You don’t feel bitter seeing life treat them a little lighter (even if it’s still less than what they deserve) even if you think you’re the only one who’s not moving forward.

You never harbored any deep resentment for Yoongi being the smarter child. He’s the one who’s even more volatile between the two of you whenever someone even just so attempt to point out how you were falling short to him by just being fine. You weren’t incredible by any means, and you didn’t want to start being excellent now when everyone’s already complacent with the way you are.

It’s either you’re seen or you’re not, there’s no in-between. You’re either Yoongi’s pretty sister whom nobody knows what degree she’s even taking, or you’re nobody at all.

You’re either a best friend or something far less significant. You’re either a mainstay cast member who got to be that in the first place by repeating the same overtired lines on the same skit that had been relevant once and recycled ever since, or you’re a fleeting extra who worked her whole life only to be recognized by something downright insignificant and even insulting.

You’re either Yoongi’s little sister that gets to hang around with Jungkook, or you’re someone who’s known Jungkook for a long time and just happen to love him ever since — whatever it is, you wouldn’t be recognized the way you want to be.

You’re yet to maximize the freedom of your youth and the sheer realization that you don’t plan on being as booked and busy as your brother, but by whatever cosmic power and due diligence of being the youngest child, you opt out of partying with your friends from university to instead get groceries with Yoongi and Jungkook.

You willingly choose to do the mundane, not because you already know you’re mundane, but because you realize that the sooner you practice yourself going through the motions of life beyond what’s serving as your unparalleled distraction, the sooner you’ll accept that you’re not destined for greatness.

You know you’re not destined for greatness, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s a little better (even if you don’t know what) when you don’t check your phone and are fully enthralled just walking past the new products in the toiletry aisle.

You know you’re not destined for excellence, but you know that you’re destined for something that’s slightly brighter than the life you’re already living when you don’t ask Yoongi impatiently if he must really smell every fruit that he puts into the cart.

You know you’re not destined for anything remotely important, but you believe with everything in you that it’s not entirely wrong for you to be hopeful that you might be, when you come out of the grocery store, about fifty reusable bags in hand, just to see white pouring.

"It's the first snow," you gasp in surprise, the awe in your gaze able to be spotted from a mile away, but Jungkook wouldn’t know the distance because he’s already far too close to you now, a giddy laugh automatically rolling from his lips.

"I know.”

"You know what they say about that, right?" you giggle, your expectant gaze turning to him without any malice; just pure, unbridled hope like the past years and the past winters haven’t hurt either of you.

"I do," he affirms, laughing as he readjusts the other fifty reusable bags filled with all the groceries Yoongi’s gotten on a whim as the both of you wait for him to go around with the car.

You’re not meant for greatness, but Jungkook equates to it, and you’ve never wanted to strive to be something you’re not so badly in your life.

"Jungkook?" you ask softly, head tilting in deep thought as you paid no attention to the snowflakes grazing your cheeks and onto the ground, gaze only focused wholly on him and nothing else.

"Yeah?" he hums. Jungkook’s lips part at the way you look at him; like he’s some higher power on an altar that has forsaken you over and over again by not making his existence known when you need him the most, yet you’re a devotee who’s never lost faith, not even once, because you confuse your pain for hope. "I know, sweetheart. I know what you mean."

You stay silent at that, even when Yoongi arrives conveniently and takes the load out of your arms and gets you your favorite coffee and gives you the liberty to pick the music for the drive back home.

You stay silent in thought of the first snow and the first and only Jungkook in your life, but only until your brother interrupts your thoughts.

Jungkook’s been the only one to occupy your existence on every first snow you’ve seen and committed to heart, but along with that, he’s also every other natural calamity.

He’s every other freak occurrence, and he’s every other reminder that seasons never stay no matter how slowly you flip the calendar and realize all the other pages you tore out in the hope that it’ll be the piece wherein you get to cross out and marks as his and yours day alone.

"Hey, you mind if Jungkook and his girlfriend crash on the couch outside?" Yoongi asks, lingering by your doorframe as he tries not to grimace at the sight of all your sweatshirts piled at what’s supposed to be the chair to your study desk. “Sora's car battery died and all the shops are closed for the night."

“Oh,” you whisper. You didn’t know that the last time you’ve ever uttered Sora’s name willingly, which was just a year ago, would only be one of the several firsts of the many times that she and Jungkook would find their way back to each other. “They're back together. Again.”

Yoongi sighs, not in disappointment (he never would), but in understanding. “It's okay if you don't want them to. I can just make up an excuse."

You can see the exhaustion wearing down on your brother from medical school and somehow juggling you and everything in between. You can see the eldest child who’s meant for greatness and has just finished doing his grocery shopping and doesn’t have any time to referee any complaints you may have for your impending visitors.

You only see him and the tiredness that you deem is warranted for someone as great as him, and not the exhaustion you’ve accumulated for being anything less.

"It's okay. This is your place anyway."

"You pay half the rent too."

"But he's your friend,” you reason weakly, sitting by the edge of your bed as you’re no longer interested in resting at its very comfort.

"You're the one who loves him,” Yoongi mutters lowly (but loud and clear for you to hear), making you roll your eyes at the reminder.

It’s the first time he’s ever spoken of it to you, but neither of you flinch at the fact. He’s brought it up randomly on the first snow of the year but you don’t have it in you to address the raging fluctuations of what comes with loving Jungkook unrequitedly.

"He and Sora can sleep over. Just don't give them my room," you concede, sighing as you stand up with a newfound will, albeit concerning.

"What? Where will you sleep then?" he furrows his brows, eyes following you around your room as you fish out a backpack and just start throwing things in haphazardly.

"I'll just sleep over at a friend's. I.. I don't want to be here when they are," you answer briefly, the dimness in your gaze enough to make Yoongi back off.

It’s enough to make your brother let you go scot-free, but never enough to make Jungkook understand.

He’s perplexed, knocking at your door for minutes on end until he decides to open it slowly, only to see that you weren't there to begin with. Jungkook’s not even perplexed, probably, because perplexed would mean that he’d harbor some degree of amusement and he isn’t feeling that in the slightest — all he’s feeling is just pure, overflowing panic.

While Sora is in the bathroom, Jungkook practically crashes his entire weight as he opens Yoongi's door, even if he knows that the poor guy must be either studying or sleeping already.

"Yoongi. Yoongi wake up. Yoongi," he hisses, chest caving in as he shakes your brother awake. “Y/N’s missing. She's not in her room. We need to find her."

"The fuck?" Yoongi could only sleepily whisper, groggily rubbing his eyes. "She's at a friend's."

"Why?" Jungkook almost spits in confusion, eyes narrowed at the possible thought process.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, collapsing back into his pillow after having his shoulders basically rearranged by Jungkook’s sheer panic alone. "Beats me."

"Do you know this friend?"

"Relax. She's twenty-three."

"Do you know this friend?" Jungkook repeats, each word becoming more enunciated than the last. He’s getting angry by the sound of it (if Yoongi could pick it up correctly), the apparent ‘carelessness’ of your own family member irking him.

"I don't know. She doesn't like being hogged so I didn't ask," he groans. “Taehyung, probably? He lives nearby."

"What?" Jungkook grits, his hand almost collaring Yoongi’s shirt if not for his fist closing in on itself to remind himself that Yoongi’s the only way for him to get answers. “Your sister is sleeping over at a guy's house? By herself? Are you insane? Why would you let her?!"

"They're friends...?" Yoongi offers slowly but surely, his tone taking on the most obvious route to Jungkook’s otherwise unbelieving state. "God, Jungkook, can you let me sleep? I really don't want to talk about my sister's sex life with you right now."

"So she's having sex with her friend?!" Jungkook practically whisper-yells to his ear, the tremble to his breathing making Yoongi shake for the briefest second.

"What? No! No— I don't know...? Fuck! Just shut up and turn off the lights again. I have an early day tomorrow."

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook sends you a lengthy text about how it’s beyond disappointing that you’re being irresponsible, followed by the multiple, desperate messages for you to text him your location so he could pick you up so you could be safe at home.

You’re twenty-three when Jungkook loses sleep over you, despite Sora sleeping beside him in the living room of your shared apartment with your brother, his red, swollen, and fatigued eyes only settled on your contact photo that he took of you in his phone.

You’re twenty-three when you admit to Jungkook in your own way, once again, that you love him, and you’re also twenty-three when he lets you down in the best way he knows how.

You’re twenty-three when you spend the night of the first snow at a friend’s house to escape the existence of Jungkook and Sora in your very own home, along with the ghost of the weight that comes with settling for never knowing him at all so you wouldn’t be hurt like this — only to come back the next morning, seeing him holding his girlfriend in his arms.

( ♡ )

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a gold bracelet.

Normally, Jungkook wouldn’t even think twice about jewelry because for as long as he wore it, all he needed to make sure was that it didn’t turn his skin green and smell weird after being splashed under hard water (which is practically all of the running water in his place) for two seconds.

Granted that it was your graduation and just like every other overeager loved one, Jungkook was assumed (by your parents and Yoongi and every friend you’ve had in university that has an inkling about your dynamic), wrongly, to just buy a name-brand item and call it a day after writing a sincere letter for you.

You know he’s not well-off. You know that he rarely ever splurges on himself and so you didn’t expect for him to go out of his way to get you something. Unlike you, Jungkook isn’t big on giving gifts, and although that’s never been a problem for you before, it always has been to him.

He doesn’t exactly feel patronized when Yoongi gives him his “neglected things” that just turn out to be the brand-new, expensive items Jungkook only ever looked up fondly and as a pipe dream (he swears he’s seen this scene before in Bride Wars); it’s more of a haunting, raring feeling in him to get even and give something that’s more than his service.

Jungkook may tend to your mom’s garden with his green thumb and teach your dad how to use power tools without crying and even cook meals for Yoongi when he’s too tired to even lift his head up, but he didn’t just want to only be of service to you. There’s no amount of him driving you around and parallel parking in the most difficult spots, or even just being the constant figure in your living room that hums (and makes you feel less insane and alone) as you talk to yourself about your exam reviewers for a course that you’re barely passing could ever be enough.

Jungkook wanted to get you something real. Something tangible that you couldn’t only think back on like a distant, foggy memory every three years when a random thought crosses your mind about his good nature.

You were twenty-four when Jungkook gifted you a solid gold (none of that hollowed-out shit; read: ditching the aforementioned meant another solid two weeks of extreme budgeting) bracelet and a heartfelt letter on your graduation.

You were twenty-four when he dressed up in his best polo and gave you his gift with nothing but nervousness for you to actually love it, and you were only twenty-four when you hugged him the tightest that you’ve ever did, kissing his cheek in pure excitement.

You were only twenty-four too, when you realize that Jungkook’s a friend who perhaps really just wanted to give you something memorable and expensive on your special day and nothing more; because if he was more and he wanted to be more, then he would’ve stuck around for the afterparty.

If he wanted to be more and not any less than what you already were, then he wouldn’t have excused himself when you bounded towards him with the bracelet on your wrist and too much of your courage waiting at the back of your throat.

If Jungkook wanted to be more, then he would’ve let his lips graze your cheek for a millisecond longer right after you look up at him: “Thank you, love you.”

If he wanted to be more with you by loving you back, then Jungkook would’ve let his hand linger on your back for just another second more with more firmness instead of gentleness, because you’ve had enough of the latter; he wouldn’t have left, and he wouldn’t have reminded you of your place either: “Don’t make bad decisions tonight.”

You were twenty-four when you started to be resigned with Jungkook, yet you don’t know at what age would you grow to be sick of him.

You can’t tell when you’re going to move past his rejections due to the maturity you’ve always thought you harbored, enough to be the driving force to just settle for however you can keep Jungkook in your life and not ruin the friendship.

You can’t tell when you’re supposed to stop growing and stop being level-headed about your yearly confessions that in the long run, have never hurt Jungkook.

You don’t know if you’re ever going to yearn to be volatile and unforgiving; you don’t know when the weight of Jungkook telling you over and over again that he doesn’t see you that way will finally settle in your bones, permanently, instead of coming and going like a holiday that you grew to both anticipate and dread.

Jungkook’s not a shifty, aloof distant relative that you only get to see once or twice in a decade when an old relative from your extended family dies.

He’s not an overly proud alumnus you see in campus grounds every two weeks chatting up professors who are tired of seeing him.

He’s not anything specific in your life besides definitively being your brother’s best friend and your own, but only from a distance. You and Jungkook were close enough to hang out without Yoongi present, but the availability of the other was something you weren’t even eagerly seeking anymore just like the old times.

It’s you who’s adding to the space that Jungkook established himself, and you thought for the longest time that you’re fine with it; that for as long as you don’t get too emotional (read: resentful) seeing the gold bracelet on your wrist, then that would mean you and him are at the perfect distance away from each other until your inevitable, yearly confession happens.

Jungkook, too, thought that he’d been okay with the added space (or whatever it meant) despite seeing you almost every two days at this point, because he thought that you being less attached would make it balanced.

You know to yourself utterly and completely that knowing Jungkook more doesn’t lead to loving him less; it’s only what you hope to happen otherwise.

It’s what he also pleads to himself when he sees you tonight, sitting at the chairs by the parking lot of the hospital.

“Y/N?” he immediately asks out loud, barely shifting the gear to park when he walks (read: runs) to you with a gasp, eyes wide and concerned. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” you return the question, unable to process why out of all the times, it just had to be now when you see Jungkook unplanned; it couldn’t have been at the subway yesterday or even at the convenience store this morning.

Out of all the times that he’d see you accidentally (heaven knows the two of you see each other far too much), it just had to be when you were clutching your abdomen, writhing and sweating in pain.

“I borrowed Yoongi’s car so I took it to the carwash and-…” Jungkook trails off for a preliminary answer, shaking his head to physically reboot himself. “Sorry, I really can’t care about Yoongi’s car right now. What the hell are you doing here?” he repeats, running his palm over your sweaty forehead that’s simultaneously warm and freezing, the lack of any ease in your face making him panic.

“It’s n— fuck, that hurts,” you seethe, growing breathless as your eyelids fall heavy.

“Y/N, hey, hey. What’s happening? Where does it hurt?” Jungkook asks firmly this time, worry etching on to his face as his hands unconsciously tremble as he tries to survey you the best he could yet he can’t even think straight with your whole body contorted in pain.

You gasp at a particularly sharp burning sensation, pointing to the right of your abdomen with your index finger barely even outstretched in pain.

Jungkook screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back as he paces in tiny circles, holding your clammy hand as he tries to not faint on the spot. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Holy fuck I don’t know what that’s called b-but you’re in pain and— a-and how did you even get here? Did you drive?”

The nod you give him makes him even more lightheaded.

“Why the fuck would you drive here? Are you insane? Y-you should’ve called me!”

“Kook, now’s not the-…” you wince, the pained gasp that leaves your eyes rolling to the back of your head being the last straw for Jungkook before carrying you bridal style into the emergency room, that realistically was just a few steps away from you, but more-on felt like a thousand yards.

The pain felt like torture for you, and seeing your pain felt like a living, breathing, writhing version of hell for Jungkook as he tried to get everything under control.

He trembled while filling out your information and waiting outside of the surgery ward. He shook when he called Yoongi to go downstairs and informed him about what happened.

Jungkook was nothing short of miserable waiting for you to be okay, but nobody told him that it wouldn’t get any better once he finally sees you awake.

He doesn’t believe you even when you’re up and are raring to go home. He doesn’t crack a smile when you tell him that you’re okay and he was just being dramatic.

He doesn’t let up the slightest bit when you try and be back to how you normally are with him, when just hours ago, Jungkook prayed to a god he only partially believed in and even offered himself to just for the betterment of your condition.

You swear up and down that you’re okay, but it’s not enough for him.

“Are you that upset seeing me in a hospital bed?” you mutter, the roll of your eyes only making you dizzy for a split second instead of a full minute this time.

“Think about it, genius,” Jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms on his chest but not before pushing your vegetables closer to you on your plate, gathering the leftovers of your pudding from the edge of your cup with a spoon.

“I’m not going to apologize,” you mutter, looking away from him and your tray and instead on a poorly-dubbed children’s show on the TV, just to shield yourself from the confrontation that you weren’t looking for.

The thing about Jungkook is that he didn’t pick a time or a place to get into anything with you, whether good or bad.

The thing is, Jungkook’s goodness and concern for you have never not went hand-in-hand with his overbearingness that friends shouldn’t have in the first place.

“Good. You shouldn’t,” he stubbornly punctuates.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself,” he groans, sneaking a glance at his watch which reminds him that he had paged a nurse ten minutes ago and that he needs to follow up. “What did I do to make you think that you can’t call me when there’s an emergency? Do you know how dangerous it was for you to drive at that state?”

Jungkook’s voice wavers at the question, not expecting you to answer with the way your jaw’s clenched and you’re still refusing to look at him.

“I-I get it. I’m trying to get it. Your parents aren’t in the city and you didn’t want them to fly out this late, I get it. Yoongi’s busy being a resident a-and you didn’t want to worry him, I get it a little bit,” Jungkook sniffles. “But you not calling me when you’re in pain? When you need someone to drive you to the ER? When you just need someone to be there with you, no questions asked?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t get it, Y/N. I don’t get it at all.”

“You really don’t get it,” you concede, gaze flitting over to him. Jungkook’s sat on an uncomfortable chair with his legs spread, still dressed in last night’s clothes and torment, the furrow in his brows inerasable. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Jungkook tolerates your mouth. He tolerates a lot of your words and sentiments and occasional callousness when you were emotional despite being mature, but this just cuts it.

He doesn’t tolerate you now.

“How will you ever be a burden? You were having an emergency and the first thing in your mind is that you don’t want to inconvenience me?” he spits. “It’s not like it’s traffic, o-or you eating my takeouts, Y/N. It’s you being in danger, don’t you get that? That’s not an inconvenience!” he laughs without any amusement. “If you still think it is no matter what I say, then you should’ve inconvenienced me. You should’ve bothered me. You should’ve known that I would’ve went out of my way just for you to consider inconveniencing me.”

“Well I don’t want to, okay? I don’t want to bother you, Jungkook!”

“What the hell do I have going on in my life that’s enough for me to not come to you when you need me?”

“You have everything going on!” you exclaim, throwing your head back on your pillow, inadvertently making yourself wince and make Jungkook apologetic. “Y-you have a job, you have Sora, you have-…”

“Wrong,” he tuts, sighing heavily as he adjusts your head on the pillow, grabbing one of his own from his chair to secure you from the sides. “I can have nothing or everything and I’ll still come to you.”

You purse your lips, ignoring the way his touch is more firm than it is gentle.

“You don’t have to come to me if you’re already with me,” you confess in your own words, the sigh that leaves you taking everything not to round up to a pitiful, watery smile that sums up your anticipated rejection.

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook answers simply, in his own way.

You’re twenty-five when you feel yourself surrender little by little.

"Okay," you roll your eyes, the snort that erupts from you making his brows raise in curiosity.

"Okay?" he echoes. "You're okay with it?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know— I-... I mean I know this isn't the first time you confessed and this isn't my first time either turning you down, but-..." Jungkook trails uneasily, shaking his head softly as he tries to regain his bearings. ”…I don't know either why I asked if you're okay."

“My appendix did get removed a few hours ago, so that’s why,” you smile playfully, going back to your meal like nothing had happened.

Like Jungkook hadn’t lost his mind hours ago, and like you hadn’t confessed just minutes ago while you were laying in your hospital bed.

You’re twenty-five when you let yourself feel the hurt.

( ♡ )

It only occurs to you when you’re twenty-six, that Jungkook’s seen all your hardships, whereas the only suffering that you had to see him endure was the price of having Sora as his first love.

Every other difficulty and every other misstep Jungkook’s had in his life are only either retold to you or assumed by your conscience. Besides his turbulent on and off relationship with the only girlfriend he’s ever had, everything that wasn’t the good and the easy about him wasn’t known to you.

It’s as if despite having the privilege to grow alongside you, Jungkook deliberately went out of his way to ensure that you never see him vulnerable if it wasn’t for love. You realize at your age belatedly that you’ve lived this long and have never seen him feel so deeply for anything that wasn’t the matters of his heart.

You only know the big chunks and the bits and pieces of your closest friend’s childhood, but never to the extent that your brother knew him. You’ve questioned the lacking details about him over and over again, but in hindsight, you realize that you didn’t ask enough.

You never asked for any clarification as stubbornly as they expected you to, not because you were coincidentally proving Jungkook right that you were better off not knowing the seemingly unimportant details of his life, but because you were already content with what he gave you.

You took what Jungkook could only give you, but he can’t say the same now.

You’re twenty-six when you hear from Yoongi that Jungkook and Sora have broken up, for good this time, because she cheated on him and it had become his last straw.

You’re twenty-six when Jungkook learns that he only knows the hardships of your life and barely ever its triumphs (whatever the hell that meant in your book and not his), because when he sees you making out with Taehyung in your old childhood bedroom while your brother’s in the middle of throwing a party downstairs, he realizes that everything seemingly favorable in your life was only retold to him.

He should be relieved (right?) to see you at home instead of finding out through Yoongi that you were sleeping over at a friend’s he didn’t know, but none of the solace ever comes to his system. It doesn’t help that the guy who scrambles off you if the same guy that you had ran to all those years ago (Jungkook only knows after keeping tabs on Taehyung for literal years, it seems like).

It doesn’t help that you’re more angry at him than you are embarrassed of the entire situation.

"Do your parents know?"

"Know what?" you scrunch your nose, entirely lost to what Jungkook’s trying to get at.

"What you're doing," he details with narrowed eyes. “Who you're doing."

"What the fuck?" you spit with vitriol, in genuine disbelief whereas Jungkook remains stoic from where he stood. ”I’m twenty-six. I have my own place now. What are you talking about?"

Jungkook shakes his head at the reminder that you’ve moved out weeks ago from your shared apartment with Yoongi and he only got to know when he crashed at your (former) place after a particularly rough day, only to be genuinely confused at the sight of Just Yoongi At The Door, your own brother perplexed that Jungkook didn’t even know you moved out by then.

“I’m talking about how you're acting out like a teenager, getting it on with-..."

"Acting out?" you parrot.

"Yeah, that's what I said,” he grits, the sarcastic laugh that leaves his lips making your ears ring.

"What would I be acting out against? I'm not some teenager rebelling against curfew or-..."

"I thought you liked me, Y/N,” Jungkook enunciates word for word, making you stop dead in your tracks.

You weren’t planning on confessing tonight.

You weren’t even thinking of digging up your unresolved feelings for Jungkook because you didn’t want to be the bigger person about it; for once, you wanted to be the more vulnerable and volatile friend between the two of you.

"What kind of person keeps confessing to her brother's best friend every single year, yet still make out with another best friend of her brother's as if nothing she said was true?"

The ache that your chest molds around is far too big of a statue, concrete and rooted in its desire to let the pain seep into you.

"But you don't like me, Jungkook. That's the thing.”

"And you think that changes everything?" he asks, voice cracking at the edges. “What if— w-what if I lied awhile ago, huh? What if I-... what if I lied about not liking you, yet you're still out here letting Taehyung put hickeys on you? What then?"

You screw your eyes shut in utter disbelief of the possibilities that Jungkook springs onto you out of nowhere, tears pricking painfully.

“But did you lie?"

"That's not what I'm-..."

"Did you or did you not lie, Jungkook? That's what I'm asking first," you interrupt, fists balled in utter despair because if you don’t do something, anything to ground you, then you’d faint right in front of him and nurse the hurt like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

"I didn't," Jungkook whispers, eyes steeling as he regains his composure. "B-but that still doesn’t-…”

"No. It changes everything," you swallow the lump in your throat. “I can have this stupid, teenage crush on you and still be hurt. I can be stupid by ignoring all your past rejections and still get tired," you waver. “I can look stupid liking you from afar, only for you to reject me year after year, and still do whatever that I want to do with Taehyung.”

"If I lied and told you that I liked you back, and we become this... w-we become this fantasy of yours that you never let go of," Jungkook argues, exhaling heavily. "What then, Y/N? If you could do this now, what else are you capable of doing if we end up together?" he gnaws on his bottom lip. ”What can you tell me that would make me trust that I can be your boyfriend without you doing whatever the hell you want?"

"You're asking me that?" you whisper in disbelief, vision spinning on the weight that Jungkook demands from you. “You're asking me to convince you that I won't cheat on you, even if you told me again and again that you'd never want to be with me?"

“Yoongi told you, didn’t he?” Jungkook replies, meeting your eyes but not where you stood, the stubbornness in his gaze making you bow your head in surrender.

"My god, Jungkook. You're fucking insane.”

He buckles by the knees at that, pointing to himself weakly as his eyes widen. "I am? I'm the one who's-...?" he pauses, jaw clenching angrily. ”I’m the one who's confused, Y/N. I'm the one who can't tell how I'd stand in your life if I give in-..."

Give in, like it's pity.

Give in, like it's charity for the needy and returning your feelings would be the one final thing that cements Jungkook’s goodness.

Give in, like you didn’t spend the better part of your life pining after him without any promise because you weren’t afraid to be seen trying; you weren’t afraid to be in love with him.

"Then I won't confuse you anymore! I'll make it easy for the both of us," you burst, pushing past him in your fit of anger. “You don't have to think about being cheated on. You don't— y-you don't have to think about the image of me making out with Taehyung behind your back while you're.. y-you're fucking conjuring this life with me in the future when you don't even want to be with me now."

Give in, like you were never the one for him in the first place.

"I'll stop,” you whisper.

"I didn't tell you to,” Jungkook grits, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes track your direction towards the door.

"I don't need you to."

( ♡ )

You dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day.

The concept of it comes to you randomly after countless nights of losing sleep over your big fight with Jungkook that had instilled a rift in your friendship for months. You haven’t gotten over him (specifically on a random day that you so badly craved to prove that unlearning the ways of being attentive to him can happen in an as insignificant of a day as Wednesday), but you atleast attained your silent plea of being the one who’s more vulnerable.

Of being the one who’s pined after, not necessarily because Jungkook was completely in the wrong and there’s no basis for his fears, but because you wanted to know what it felt like being yearned for.

You didn’t have to be brave for the two of you because you were no longer grasping at straws to keep Jungkook whenever and however you can.

The only reason you dream of getting over Jungkook on a random day was because you want the feeling of the love you have for him to leave you when you're folding your clothes and you can ignore the fact that his shirts keep washing up into your basket despite not having stepped foot in your new place.

You want to get over him on a random day when you feel unsure of it the most, because only then would you prove to yourself that something as real and as tangible as your yearning is just as fundamental as learning to live without him in your life.

You want to get over Jungkook on a random day, even when you don’t want to, because the only way out for you is through.

You want to get over him but you can’t; you want to get over him even when he confesses his love for you at a time that you’ve stepped out of the middle, which was the only place you’ve been trying to coax him into to remind you that your yearning’s alive.

You’re twenty-seven when Jungkook first confesses to you.

“I’m in love with you and you don’t have to do anything about it,” he whispers, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers by your front door, left hand still trembling as he clutches the handwritten note of your address given by your brother who had promised to cut him off forever if he didn’t make things right with you. Jungkook isn’t doing this to get even with you, however — he’s doing this out of sheer longing. “And you don’t have to be in love with me for me to do everything about it.”

You’re twenty-seven, and you still know that Yoongi’s meant for greatness.

You know that he’s meant for greatness when he’s only a few years older than you and yet he’s already in the finishing steps of opening his own clinic, the technicalities of it amusing you because at his age, Yoongi’s acclaimed for his skill and his drive.

At your age, the hallmarks that you live with are that you’re going to join the family business (read: inserting yourself in Yoongi’s clinic) and make use of yourself to make up for the fact that you’re not particularly excellent at anything, and that finally, this is the second to the last year you’re going to be allowing yourself to confess your love to Jungkook.

Just because you allowed yourself to all those years ago, however, didn’t mean you were actually going to do it any longer.

You were freshly twenty-six when you and Jungkook had the fight that inexplicably changed your lives forever, more than growing up and witnessing each other change had ever did — you’re three months away from turning twenty-eight, and Jungkook’s never been more riddled with fear of loving you, but he does it anyway.

He’s more scared of losing you than he is with loving you, yet he knows he can’t forsake either in his pursuit.

Jungkook knows that he’s not meant for greatness, but you equate it, and he’s never wanted to strive to be something he’s not so badly in his life. He runs to you at full speed and he doesn’t care about the impact nor about the possibility that it wouldn’t bring him anywhere.

“You're not Sora," he utters when he sees you zoning out, gaze fixated on the first snow that falls right outside of the window of the clinic that’s still yet to be completed, hallowed out enough for his voice and his sentiment to echo throughout the walls. “And I don't want Sora."

"Nobody wakes up and just realizes that they don't love someone anymore, Jungkook," you murmur, following the way the bits of white patter against the ground helplessly because they have no choice but to fall.

Jungkook’s been nothing short of pathetic with his longing the entire year.

Even between him working as your brother’s contractor and even helping out the labor yet not ever running late from driving you to and from your place with homemade meals in hand, to him pulling his weight by being of service to you, by being anything that you asked and didn’t ask him to be — Jungkook, admittedly, can’t fill in the gaps of what longing for him in the past had instilled in you: doubt.

"I did,” Jungkook answers. “It happens."

"You spent the better part of your youth being in love with her," you remind him with a gentle roll of your eyes, ignoring the way he comes closer to give you his hard hat that you’ve always insisted on ditching out of stubbornness. “That doesn't just happen out of nowhere."

It’s daunting that you can talk about yours and Jungkook’s past out in the open.

It’s new.

"It happened because it wasn't out of nowhere," he clarifies. “I’ve been on and off with her in the first place because I— we, couldn't let go of the comfortable option which was each other."

“Just stop talking,” you murmur weakly, the lilt of your voice similar to the random days that creep up to you and remind you of the shade of the past, of Sora, that looms over you out of nowhere. "I... I-I must've had this conversation with you over and over again, Jungkook," you frown. "You're going to get back with each other like always."

"We're not," he corrects you, standing in front of you so closely that you could feel his warmth cling to your skin. “Sora and I are completely through."

"Whatever you say," you mutter, throwing your hands weakly, ready to call it a night when Jungkook grabs ahold of you firmly, undoubtedly, his eyes swimming in concern.

"Do you want time to prove it?" he tilts his head. "We could wait around for a lifetime and you'll believe me by then."

"I think I've done enough waiting,” you chuckle, drawing a laugh out of him.

You’re turning twenty-eight in three months, and Jungkook’s confessed his love for you more times than you’ve ever did for him in your lifetime; he’ll still love you under the weight of your shoe.

"You're meant for happiness, Y/N. You don't have to wait,” Jungkook murmurs. “And I need to work on being meant for you, so I have to wait."

#heh :D #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk oneshot

2K notes · View notes