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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 months ago

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building blocks | yjh

(agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.)

pairing: master's student!jeonghan x TA!f!reader genre: university!au, strangers to loveres | fluff, minor angst, attempt at humor, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 19.7k (idk what to say atp) warnings: mentions of eating and drinking, jeonghan briefly drives a motorcycle, they're both engineering students but i don't claim to know engineering, the angst is minor because there's some miscommunication smut warnings: lots of kissing, hand job, fingering, slight voyeurism? (jeonghan watches reader finger herself), kind of loser!jeonghan, missionary sex, nothing really crazy all things considered

a/n: this is for the TA collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios. those two have been working so hard on this and i can't wait to read all the fics. but go easy on me because i know next to nothing about structural engineering. credit to @caelesjjk for this banner, it's so amazing 🥰 also thank you to everyone that helped me brainstorm along the way @ugh-yoongi @haologram @highvern and of course to @wqnwoos for letting me borrow her name.

note 2: this isn’t proofread. i had something come up irl and wanted to get it posted, so i’m sorry for any errors! i’ll come back to it next week when i have a minute.

(tag list at the end)

Your entire academic (and professional, for that matter) career has been a battle. A fight to be taken seriously. A fight to get the right classes. A fight to make the right connections. A fight for every inch that you’ve gotten. There are times that you wonder if it’s all worth it, wonder if anything should be as hard as this. But, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an engineer. To be able to leave your mark in some sort of meaningful way, even if that’s also a little conceited. It’s all you want and you’re so close to getting some much needed room to breathe.

Except…

You have to make it through one last semester of this damn Master’s program. You managed to find a sponsor to allow you to commit to a final semester full time, with only part time research work. That’ll put you in a good position to carry on for your PhD, with your dissertation topic already picked and funded. Things had been going entirely too smoothly, in hindsight. You should have known. Everything about your application to the upcoming program is perfect. Except for the final recommendation. And, of course, the professor to give that recommendation won’t just give it to you to recognize the years you’ve put into this. No. He implies that there’s something he needs from you.

Nothing really awful, in the grand scheme of things. Not for someone that does want to return as a lecturer at some point down the road. It’s just that you didn’t really want to be forced into a teaching assistant position for Professor Choi’s introductory structural engineering course. It’s the course that weeds out who’s actually going to carry on with the civil engineering branch of the Master’s program from those who may switch out to something that better suits them. Which, again, isn’t a huge deal, except that you remember how burnt out the TA looked from when you took the course and it’s the last thing you need during your final semester. It’s hard to know that some portion of your future hinges on doing this. It’s also hard to forget another friend of yours admitting Professor Choi had given him a recommendation without the hoops.

Whatever.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that.

So you schedule your regular meetings with the professor, make a separate email folder for all course related communication, jot down the important dates, and figure out which lessons you have to help plan. First up is going to be the introductory class. Professor Choi comes in and introduces himself while you distribute the syllabus, an odd task when everything is available online through the portal, but he likes things in hard copy. Once he’s done his introduction, he leaves the rest of the first class to you, as he had with the TA in your course during your first semester. For a moment, you consider pointing out that this is a Master’s level course and you don’t really need to do the typical introductions. Most of these people have busy lives and, even though they’ll have to work together on projects, can manage without syllabus week. But, Choi is old school and you know it. You also need his letter, so what’s the point in trying to change his system? You’re not here to do anything other than fill a spot that he was having trouble filling, get your letter, and go.

When you scan the roster before the first day, nobody particularly sticks out. There are a couple of relatively familiar names, though you’re not sure you can place faces to them, but most of the students seem to be in their first semester of the program. It only takes getting to the introductions for someone in the course to stick out, though.

“Well, I’ve always been good at building Legos. I figure, how different can it really be?” one student answers.

It takes everything in you to school your face back into a politely interested expression when the rest of the class bursts out laughing. Your initial reaction had been incredulity. Surely he couldn’t be serious. There’s no way someone just wandered into this program because he liked building Legos. The laughter from the rest of the class dies down and you keep your attention on him.

“Why did you really join the program?” you ask. That’s what every student was supposed to be sharing. A problem for this student, apparently.

“That is why I joined,” he says with an infuriating smirk.

“What did you say your name was?” you ask.

“Jeonghan,” he answers without anything else.

You consult the roster in front of you and put a star by his name. This is someone you know you’re going to have to keep an eye on.

“Did I get a star already?” he prompts, earning another few chuckles from his classmates.

“Something like that,” you say and then turn to the person next to him. “And why did you join?”

Nothing else grabs your attention during the remainder of the introductions. Several students volunteer what they’re hoping to get out of the program. One brave student says she’s heard that Professor Choi is tough before asking for your opinion. Although you give a neutral answer, you make a note to speak to her privately to address her (very valid) concerns.

When it comes time for you to return to speaking about the rest of the semester, you expect Jeonghan to interrupt in some way. He gives the impression of someone that likes causing a little bit of chaos or bringing attention to himself. Instead, he simply listens, notes something down occasionally, and gazes at you so intently that you nearly feel yourself flush. It would be a lot easier to ignore him if he didn’t look like some kind of model, though. You catch yourself looking at him more than once when other students are sharing answers. His nearly black hair falls in longer layers around his face, not quite reaching his collar in the back. There’s something almost delicate about his nose, about all of his face, really. His features are soft in a sort of beautiful way. It’s only when he catches you looking that you shake any consideration of his features from your mind.

Once there’s only a few minutes left, you dismiss the class with a reminder that your email is beneath Professor Choi’s on the syllabus and you’re always around to help them. This class, you share, can be daunting and you’re here to help them get through it in one piece. That part comes out genuine because you do mean it. None of these students are to blame for the position you’re in. It’s not their fault that they have a TA that doesn’t really want to be in the position. So, you’re not going to make them suffer. You’re going to help them just as the TA for your class helped you. You make a note to reach out to him and ask for some advice.

Jeonghan’s eyes linger on you as the other students get out of their seats and begin talking, mostly about what they’re most excited for in the coming semester. You have to break first and look down to collect some papers from the desk. It also helps to remind yourself this is the same student who said he joined the class because he likes Legos. Ridiculous. When you look back up at the class, you’re half expecting to see his attention is still on you. It’s not. He’s joined a few classmates and is leaving the room without a backward glance.

Legos, you remind yourself, and return to gathering your things.

The one good thing about all this is that it’s an evening course, designed for people that have to work during the day. When the class is over, you get to go straight home to eat dinner and meld into the couch with your roommate, who also happens to be your best friend.

You: i’m tired, want me to pick up food on the way home?

Bestie boo: i already called in an order from that one place you like so you can pick it up on the way home

You: wow who are you and what have you done with my best friend?

Bestie boo: i didn’t pay for it

You let out a snort because that’s exactly the friend you know and love. He has to cover up ordering your favorite food from your favorite restaurant, which is sweet, by reminding you he’s still a giant pain in the ass. The gesture is enough for you to ignore it and just let him have this win. Maybe you’re off your game, but you’re a little tired.

“You should watch where you’re going.”

The comment nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Sure, you scare easily as it is. But it’s worse when the voice comes out of seemingly nowhere. Of course it’s Jeonghan from your class, leaning against the wall just outside the building. His eyes glint at your reaction, like he’s enjoying it. Maybe he is. A second later, he pushes off from the wall to come closer.

“And you shouldn’t scare people like that,” you retort when your heart slows a bit. He’s looking at you conspiratorially. “Did you have a question from the class?”

“No,” he answers easily.

“So…” you start.

“Do you memorize the faces of all your students so quickly?” he wonders, continuing when you give him an odd look. “Or am I special?”

“You made an impression,” you say neutrally.

“A positive one?” he presses.

“I didn’t say that,” you counter.

“But, still, you remembered me. Unless you learn all your students' faces before class as TA duties,” he says.

You sigh and decide to give him a partial truth, one that’s less likely to bite you than admitting his face is one of the only ones you remember. “I haven’t been a TA before so I don’t have a manual for how I’m going to approach it.”

“Happy I get to be your first, then,” he says and turns to walk away. He turns back over his shoulder with a wicked smile and calls, “see you next class!”

Your mind is preoccupied all the way to the restaurant to pick up the food and all the way back to your apartment. It’s only been one day of class and you can already feel that this student is going to be a menace. Worse than that, he seems like he knows he’s getting under your skin and wants to press it even further. Realistically, you just have to get through any of the classes that you lead. Otherwise, he’ll be the professor’s issue.

Seungkwan is waiting on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone when you walk into the living room, takeout containers in hand. It’s relatively familiar, though you know that he also likes to be out whenever he can. A perpetual social butterfly.

“Today was already fucking annoying,” you moan when you set the boxes down and flop onto the couch.

Seungkwan gives you a sympathetic look. “At least you’re one step closer to getting what you need from that idiot.”

You’re confused for a moment because you hadn’t been thinking of Professor Choi at all. “Oh, yeah, no. I wasn’t talking about Choi.”

“What was the issue then?” Seungkwan asks as he leans forward to get his food.

“There’s this guy in the class and I don’t know. I can’t figure him out,” you offer. “He’s so annoying. Like who signs up for a structural engineering class just because he likes building Legos? And that smirk. Ugh. I hate him.”

“Sure sounds like it,” Seungkwan quips.

“Fuck off, I do,” you double down.

“What’s he look like? Is he cute?” he wonders.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

“No. You answered anyway,” Seungkwan says with a grin.

“Fine, yes he is attractive because for some reason I’ve been cursed. Why do all you annoying people in my life also have to be hot?” you whine, casting a look at your roommate.

“Did you just call me hot?” he barks through a laugh.

“Fuck off, just pick a show. It’s your turn,” you say with a push on his arm.

You make it through the first few classes as a TA without much to report. Jeonghan tries your patience, but there’s not much he can do during the class and he doesn’t linger afterwards. That’s usually when Professor Choi wants to debrief on the course material and make sure the next class is ready. The class is also just starting to get into the real material and away from the foundational information.

But, now the course is well and truly underway, which means you have to announce that you’ll be starting to hold your own office hours every week. Of course, Choi also has office hours and students could take advantage of those. Probably would, if not for the fact that he encourages the class to go to you first to try and resolve anything. Something about how he’s very busy and that’s why he has a TA. It’s exhausting and just another obstacle in getting what you need.

After getting feedback from the class, you decide to set two different times for office hours, one during the late afternoon and one during the early evening to accommodate schedules. A few students show up right at the start of your first office hours session with similar concerns. So, you invite them in and start to work through a few practice problems to illustrate the point that they’re struggling to understand. It’s actually surprisingly easy to work in this way. You would never admit it to Professor Choi, but it’s actually kind of enjoyable. There’s value in helping someone understand a difficult concept. It’s also really rewarding to watch the comprehension dawn on the faces around you as each of them seems to grasp what you’re saying.

Honestly, you can’t imagine your first office hours going any better when you’re already an hour into it and you’ve been working with the same three students. Of course, just as they’re gathering their things to head out, feeling more confident than when they showed up, Jeonghan appears in the doorway. He doesn’t even say anything at first, just looks around at the other students. They seem oblivious to what’s happening around them.

“Thanks again,” one student says as he’s standing up.

Another student catches sight of Jeonghan and she smiles. “Oh, sorry Jeonghan. We didn’t know you were having trouble with any of the concepts or we would have asked you to join us.”

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “I was busy until just now anyway.”

“Do you all feel confident with the topics? Or would you like to stay and go over something now that Jeonghan is here?” you ask, trying not to appear hopeful. (And failing at that pretty miserably.)

“Oh no, we’re definitely set. And we had plans,” the first student says with a look over at Jeonghan.

The three of them exchange goodbyes with Jeonghan and head out, allowing Jeonghan to close the door behind them before plopping into a seat at the table in your office. He’s directly across from you, which makes it hard to avoid his eyes. When you do meet his eye, though, he’s got a sneaky, all-knowing look on his face. You don’t like the loot of it one bit.

“What’s with the look?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” he retorts quickly.

“You’re making a face,” you say.

“Are you saying you don’t like my face?” Jeonghan asks, pretending to be offended.

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” you ask to switch tactics.

“These are your office hours. I’m here to ask questions about the material,” he says.

“You don’t need any help with the material so far. I’ve graded your problem sets and the answers have been perfect,” you admit.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he muses.

“I’m not answering that. It brings me back to my question, though. If you don’t need help, why are you here?” you press.

“Why does it seem like you don’t like me?” he asks.

“I don’t have any feelings about you either way,” you deflect.

“Now, that’s not true,” he disagrees.

“You’re determined to get under my skin,” you say, half as a joke.

“Determined to figure you out,” he corrects. “It doesn’t seem like you’re all that excited about being a TA.”

“That’s because I was forced into it,” you blurt out and immediately clap a hand over your mouth. That’s the last thing you meant to say. “I didn’t mean…”

“Now we’re getting somewhere in this relationship,” he says, sitting back into his seat with a satisfied smile.

You heave another heavy sigh, a common occurrence around this man. “Why are you so determined to figure me out? Why do you care how I feel about you?”

“Because everyone seems to like me right off the bat,” he says.

“I can see why,” you deadpan.

“So can I stay? Or do you have very important things to do?” he asks.

“It’s my office hours, so I’m here to help students until the two hours are up,” you admit.

“Perfect.”

The next few times that you hold office hours feature Jeonghan showing up for the second half. It seems deliberate that he doesn’t show up right when they start, especially because you always have at least one other student in your office. If there’s another student there, he joins in to ask questions along with whoever else is there. When it’s just him, his questions are much more personal. It’s obvious that he wants to know you. Know your likes and dislikes, know the things that make you tick, know who you are when you’re not at school. Seems very convinced that the version of you outside the walls of the engineering building is very different from the one he sees. Jeonghan doesn’t seem to realize that he’s slowly getting more and more of a peek into who you really are. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring up your slip about being forced into being a TA.

It doesn’t make it any easier to be around him.

It should. You should be able to get used to his particular brand of torture. Yet, with each new piece of information you learn, you unlock even more questions. It’s like you can’t ever really figure him out. Or maybe that he doesn’t want you to. He’s very careful to give vague answers about the serious things, while he goes on and on about the things that don’t matter. He’ll spend a solid five minutes talking about the latest Lego he’s building, but then breeze past the few questions you ask about him personally. It usually includes some sort of quip about how he’s wearing you down and how you clearly want to know him better.

“Bet you thought you were escaping me today,” a voice says, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp. Your heart beats a mile a minute as you look up to glare at the intruder.

“No, Yoon Jeonghan. I can see the confusion, though,” he says and you sigh heavily.

“Office hours are almost over,” you point out.

“Not for 20 more minutes,” he counters.

“Right, but I was in the middle of grading something,” you say, indicating the design plans in front of you. He glances over at them.

“Hm,” he says.

“What, Jeonghan?” you ask with exasperation.

“Just doesn’t look like mine is all,” he says and plops into the chair across from you.

“Well obviously,” you say. “Can’t exactly grade your project with you sitting here.”

For some reason, that makes him break out into a wicked grin. “So you aren’t grading my assignment because you were hoping I’d show up.”

Ah, yes. Now you see your mistake. Should have definitely seen that coming, too. “You’ve come to every other session. I wasn’t hoping you’d show up again, but it was a fair assumption that you might.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he says placatingly. “D’you have a question?” you ask. The tension headache you associate with Jeonghan’s presence in your life is threatening to make an appearance.

“Nope,” he says, popping the last syllable.

A notification on your phone stops you from responding to him and you unlock it immediately. It seems that Professor Choi needs to give you a stack of assignments and instead of just walking a few doors down the hall, he had to send a message. You drop your phone back on the desk with the message still open and take a calming breath.

“Everything good?” Jeonghan asks with more care than you’re used to.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back. Have to go pick something up from Professor Choi’s office,” you say, already on your feet and heading towards the door.

It only takes a minute or two for you to go and come back. For once, you’re thankful for Jeonghan because it gives you the ready-made excuse that you’re just wrapping up office hours with a student waiting for you to return. He doesn’t need to know that student hasn’t ever asked you a class related question without another student present. You’ll take the wins where you can get them. The pain in ass in question is still sitting exactly where he was when you left him.

He looks up at you as you walk back in, set the folders on the corner of your desk, and sit back down. “You really hate Professor Choi.”

“I didn’t say that,” you counter quickly. Probably too quickly.

“You didn’t have to. Sometimes you have a really expressive face,” he comments and looks back down at his phone.

“Only sometimes?” you wonder. Jeonghan looks back up to regard you.

“It’s always expressive, but you work a little harder to control it in class than you do outside of it,” he decides. “You mentioned something about being forced into this. Why be a TA if you hate it?”

“I don’t actually hate being a TA,” you clarify. He seems to accept this at face value. “It’s just…I didn’t…no. Why am I doing this with you?”

“Because I’m asking?” he offers.

“I had never considered being a TA. I wasn’t opposed to it, I just hadn’t really fit it into my schedule. It has been a lot of fun, though,” you say. It’s the first time you’ve noticed how much attention Jeonghan gives you. The way his eyes are on you and it seems like he tunes out any other distractions.

“How did you end up here, then?” he asks. Any teasing or lightness is gone from his tone.

“Please don’t make me regret giving you the honest answer,” you say warily. “But, I’m applying for my PhD program. I have everything that I need…except for a final letter of recommendation.”

“Oh, you’re joking,” he says and actually does look offended on your behalf. “He’s making you TA for him in exchange for the letter? That’s why you said you were forced into it?”

“Yup,” you respond, popping the end of the word like he had done earlier..

“Well, that’s definitely shitty but I’m still counting myself lucky that you ended up with this class,” he says.

“I can’t figure you out,” you admit.

“I know.”

That should be annoying, the way he says that he knows you can’t figure him out. It’s like he’s not even trying to hide that he’s making it difficult to get to know him. Yet, he’s not making it a secret that he wants to get to know you better. There’s just something about him that prompts you to share things you wouldn’t with anyone else. No, that’s dramatic. It’s just easier to share with him than it usually is with someone else that you barely know.

Despite asking again if Jeonghan has any questions, he insists that he’s fine with just sitting there to keep you company while you have to wait to see if any student comes by in the last minutes of your office hours. For a change, he doesn’t ask any personal questions. Doesn’t try to press you into admitting things that you usually wouldn’t. He just takes out his laptop to make it look like you’re actually helping him in the event that anyone checks in on you.

Nobody does. The last few minutes pass quickly with you returning to grading the assignment you had been working on. The two of you gather up your things in relative silence and Jeonghan walks with you out to your car so that you can head home. You’re expecting something else or something different, but that’s all there is. Just a walk to your car, a smile with a goodbye, and him heading off in another direction. It’s somehow the strangest and most normal interaction you’ve had with him. It makes you pause to wonder if this is the real version of him. A little quiet, a little reserved. Not being a menace to anything and anyone in his path.

It’s not until you’re back home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine while watching some variety show with Seungkwan that you realize it wasn’t quite the normal interaction you thought it was.

Jeonghan: i appreciated you telling me the truth about the class today

The message lights up your screen and all you can do is stare at it without being able to believe it. How are you getting a message from Jeonghan with his contact information saved? You’re racking your brain trying to figure out if you gave him your number, or saved his, and just didn’t remember.

“What’s with your face?” Seungkwan asks.

“Wow, that was nice,” you retort.

He looks over at your phone where the notification still shows a message from Jeonghan. “Finally gave him your number, huh?”

“No, I -” you start when another message comes in.

Jeonghan: you left your phone unlocked when you went to Choi’s office and I figured it was time for us to exchange numbers

Seungkwan, now more invested in your messages than in the show in the background, lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow, he’s good. I see why you like him.”

“I don’t like him, Kwan,” you sigh.

“Sure,” he says dismissively.

As if to prove something, you make a show of moving your phone over to the end table and turning it over. Seungkwan gives you a Look that plainly says he’s not buying whatever it is you’re trying to sell. Otherwise, he lets you go back to the show that you’re watching without bringing it up again.

The text thread with Jeonghan seems to haunt you every time you open your messages, at least until there are enough conversations to push it out of your view. Surprisingly, you don’t get any more texts from him when you don’t answer. He also doesn’t show up to your next office hours, which is a bit odd to you. And you can’t vent to Seungkwan about it because he’s still very convinced that it’s only a matter of time before you end up sleeping with Jeonghan. Ridiculous, honestly. Like you would waste your time on someone you’re not even sure you like.

That carries you through to your next class. It’s a slightly more complicated lecture that Choi does every semester to try and scare students off this path. He claims it’s so that everyone knows what they would be getting into. You suspect that it’s his way of reminding everyone just how smart he is. Not exactly the most flattering trait, but you suppose that he probably doesn’t care about that. Doesn’t need to. He’s been teaching so long that his job is guaranteed at this point.

The good thing, though, about knowing Choi won’t need you during the entirety of the class is that you get to just sit at the back of the class and do some work. It gives you the chance to get through grading some of the assignments for the class without having to take time away from something else. Let’s you get absorbed into that to tune out the grating sound of Choi’s monotonous voice as he tries his best to warn students off the path. You’re so absorbed that you don’t notice the way that Jeonghan periodically glances over his shoulder to where you’re sitting, trying to catch your attention even for a moment.

When the class comes to an end, you make your way up to the front as you would any other time. It’s a little irritating to have to check if there’s anything Professor Choi needs like you’re his personal assistant, but you’re also resigned. What you’re not prepared for, though, is that he calls Jeonghan up to the front of the room.

“Yes, Professor?” he says with so much respect and deference that it almost feels real, if you didn’t know how he feels. One of the only personal things you actually know about this mystery of a man..

“I really enjoyed your proposal for the final project using Legos,” Choi starts. “Every few semesters, I get someone that seems to think being good at using plastic building blocks means they’d make a good engineer. But, you’ve actually been doing wonderfully in the class. So, I want you to work with my TA here to refine the idea a little bit. I don’t think you’re meeting your full potential with it yet.”

“Oh, well Professor Choi…” you start and he waves a hand.

“Surely it isn’t a problem to help foster the best student in my class, is it?” he challenges.

“No, of course not,” you concede.

Professor Choi wears a triumphant smile. “Good. I’ll leave the two of you to coordinate your schedules. See you next class, Mr. Yoon.”

The formality of calling students by their family names nearly makes you roll your eyes. It’s only when you note the glint in Jeonghan’s eyes that you catch yourself. The two of you say your goodbyes and a silence settles in Choi’s absence.

“Should I just stop by your office hours tomorrow?” he asks when it’s clear you aren’t going to say anything.

“Sure, that works,” you say. “You stop by most of them anyway.”

“Does it bother you that I do?” he asks, a note of something you can’t detect in his tone. Maybe vulnerability.

That makes you soften. “No, of course not.”

“I can back off if it’s making you uncomfortable,” he says with a forced smile. “Maybe it was too much adding my number to your phone.”

“We can talk about boundaries when I see you during office hours tomorrow,” you joke. At least it seems to bring a real smile back to his face.

In a strange turn of events, Jeonghan shows up to your office hours only two minutes after they start. You haven’t even gotten yourself fully unpacked because you weren’t expecting him to show up at the beginning. Not when he seems to show up in the latter half every other time.

The differences continue as you settle into the work the professor assigned the two of you. Jeonghan pulls out his proposal, something you hadn’t actually seen yet, and talks you through his ideas. His idea had been to submit a design for a brand new structure built to scale entirely using Legos. It’s ambitious in a way because the blocks only come in certain shapes and sizes. You can’t just cut something down to fit the size that you need. It requires a good amount of forethought. But, for someone like Jeonghan who’s taken to the course like a fish to water, it doesn’t seem like it’s quite enough. You can see why the professor asked you to help him work through it a little bit more. It needs to be fleshed out a little further.

As the two of you go back and forth with ideas about how to give it an element that makes it more impressive, you’re stuck by how easy it is to work side-by-side with him. How well the two of you work together. It’s like every visit before this has been building up to the level of comfort you have now, even if you’re still pretending that you don’t really know him. Maybe you don’t, though. It’s not like he ever gives you real answers to your questions.

“Why Legos?” you ask as the two of you are feeling stuck on where to go to expand on the proposal.

“Because it’s funny to see how annoyed you get when I bring it up, so I figured it would be funny to imagine you grading my final project that has to do with Legos,” he says with that same look.

“Be serious for once, Jeonghan,” you sigh. “I’m trying to help you with this. It’s the least you could do.”

“Sorry,” he says after a moment and shifts in his seat. “It’s, well, it’s just always been the way that I zone out and reset. At first, it was just when I needed a break from dealing with people because I had to focus on the instructions. Then, I started to think about how impressive it was that they were able to form these insane shapes with building blocks. Then, it started to get more elaborate with me testing out what worked and what didn’t when I built my own designs.”

It’s one of the first truly real and truly honest things he’s said to you. Not hiding behind a joke or brushing off an answer. It’s just him and you feel like that one response helps you know him better than all the hours he’s spent in your office up until that point. It also helps you realize what the proposal was missing in the first place: something personal from him.

Ultimately, what is going to make this project stand out is something that makes it personal. A structural engineer doesn’t really need to design a building or a bridge or any other structure. They do need to design and analyze any of the support systems, though, which can be a dull job at times. Adding something more human will make it stand out. So, you suggest that Jeonghan take it a step further than just modeling a structural support system from Legos. You suggest that he set it up almost like instructions for an established set. But, instead of simple drawings to make it step by step, you suggest that he include little snippets about his previous experiences with using Legos, how he tests it to make sure he structure will hold, and any calculations he does for load capacity and gravity.

Initially, he seems a little unsure. It’s easy to see that talking about things that are more personal to him, especially for a final project, is uncomfortable. After a lot of reassurances that nobody but you and Professor Choi will see it if he doesn’t want them to, he finally agrees that it’s a good idea. It does seem like he’s at least excited about the prospect now, though.

While he’s rewriting his proposal to submit to the professor, you get back to what you had planned to do during the first part of your office hours before he showed up: grading assignments. Once again, his isn’t on the stack to be graded. Out of habit, you always grade his first and some time when he’s guaranteed to not be around. It’s oddly comfortable to work like this, grading papers while he types away on his laptop across from you.

Once he gets through typing up a new proposal, he asks if you would be willing to read it over. You’re just about to suggest that he email it to you, when he just hands his laptop over. Seems unconcerned about having you his laptop. Although he watches you carefully as your eyes scan through the words, it feels like his only concern is what you think about it. Which doesn’t need to be a concern at all. It’s perfect, as far as you’re concerned.

You tell him as much when you look up with a smile. “I love it.”

“Don’t be nice to me now,” he says nervously as you hand the laptop back over.

“What?” you ask.

“You don’t need to spare my feelings now when you’ve been ignoring my texts,” he says like he’s trying to protect himself.

“So much to unpack there and we’ll return to the texts,” you say, a little exasperated. “But, I’m not being nice about the proposal. It’s perfect and I genuinely can’t find a single thing I’d change. Choi’s going to love it.”

“Ah, well, he was right in getting your help. I wouldn’t have gotten here on my own,” he admits and it does actually make you smile again.

“Still your idea,” you say to encourage him.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” he says and you know it’s the real him for a moment.

“Okay, but back to the texting,” you say to shift.

“The boundaries chat, wonderful,” Jeonghan says, returning to his previous mask of being a menace.

“You really shouldn’t be going through a stranger’s phone and adding your number,” you chastise.

“We’re not strangers though, are we?” he challenges. “And I didn’t go through your phone.”

“No?” you ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Your phone was still lit up when you left so I called myself quickly and then created a new contact, and then locked your phone and put it back,” he says like it’s the most normal sentence in the world.

“That’s insane?” you state with a level of shock.

“I really wasn’t trying to cross some sort of line,” he admits with a shocking level of sincerity. “I just really like getting to know you and I figured you’d feel weird about giving a student in your class your number, even though you’re still a student as well. So, I just wanted to make it easier. If you don’t want me to have it, you can delete it right out of my phone.”

Jeonghan holds his unlocked phone out to you and it’s open to your contact. For some insane reason, you do actually believe what he said. It’s easy to see how he might want to befriend you and be hesitant on how to do that. He strikes you as the kind of person that can put on a mask of liking to be social, but really would much rather be at home or in a small setting like in your office with you. And you do actually enjoy having him around, even if you keep trying to pretend that he’s basically a stranger to you. He’s not wrong, either. You would have felt weird about exchanging numbers with him. You’ll never admit that to him.

He must see the hesitation on your face because he retracts his hand. Waits for you to say something, though. “I guess it’s not the worst thing that you have my number.”

“That’s almost a positive,” he jokes. “You could give a guy false hope that you actually might be starting to like me.”

“Oh, now I wouldn’t go that far,” you quickly tack on. “Wouldn’t want you to get a big head.”

“Have you seen the grades I’m getting? I already know I’m doing something right,” he brags.

“I have seen your grades since I’m usually the one grading them,” you remind him. “So, I have to balance it out.”

“You just wanna break my heart over and over again,” he whines.

“You’ll survive,” you deadpan.

Everything seems to carry on as it always does. You have to make sure you’re keeping up with all of your actual classes for your degree. Grade assignments when Professor Choi hands them off to you. Give feedback on the upcoming topics. Most importantly, you find plenty of time to disengage from all the hustle of classes. To enjoy time with friends where you can let your brain just wander onto things that don’t matter nearly as much.

Even though you don’t ever text Jeonghan first, it doesn’t seem deterred because you do always answer the messages that he sends to you. Some of them are idle thoughts throughout the day. Others are questions that he wants answers to and seems to think he’s more likely to get them over text than during the hours he spends in your office. Your favorites, though, are when he texts you some wildly out of pocket statement and then gets you to debate him on it because it’s always something completely inane. Something meaningless. It gets you so fired up, though.

“He’s so infuriating,” you complain as you forcely set your phone down on the couch next to you.

“I’m guessing we’re talking about Jeonghan,” Seungkwan says from his position on the other end of the couch.

“Why would you immediately jump to Jeonghan?” you ask.

“Bestie, we haven’t talked about anyone else but Jeonghan all semester,” he says. You fling a pillow at your roommate.

“First, you’re being dramatic. And second, yes I talk about him a lot. He’s infuriating,” you say.

“Whatever you say,” Seungkwan says dismissively.

“I might hate him,” you say.

“They say hate sex is the best sex,” he says without taking his eyes off his phone.

“And they say killing your nosey roommate isn’t actually a crime,” you retort.

Seungkwan looks up at you and smiles. “Let’s do it baby. I know the law.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Vernon,” you scoff.

“Maybe, but if you kill me, who’s going to lend their ear to you and listen to your troubles?” he asks.

“Van Gogh,” you answer immediately.

“He’s dead,” Seungkwan says with an arched eyebrow, carefully avoiding the more obvious retort.

“And so are you to me right now,” you say flatly.

“Touche,” he says with a light laugh. “What’s he done this time that’s got you all pissy?”

“He’s spent the last 20 minutes debating with me over whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich,” you say, expecting Seungkwan to think it’s just as ridiculous as you.

What you’re not expecting, though you should be, is for him to pick up Jeonghan’s side in the debate and make you rehash everything you’ve already talked about. It sounds like such an innocuous topic. Something so outlandish that it could possibly spark debate for more than a few minutes. Yet, here you are, having the same debate all over again. It makes you even more heated despite not having a stake or opinion before Jeonghan asked you. In fact, you had never even considered the question. It was one of the most effective he had posed since he started sending you random questions or opinions like this.

Somehow, though, your biggest mistake is telling Jeonghan that your roommate got just as invested as he had about the topic. Worse when you told Jeonghan that Seungkwan was on his side. It made it immediately obvious that you could not ever let those two meet. It would spell an instant demise for any remaining sanity you had left. The realization that they would be instant best friends is terrifying.

The debate about whether or not hotdogs are sandwiches lasts all the way until the next day when Jeonghan shows up at your office hours, right at the start. The look on his face tells him that he’s about to carry on the text conversation. But, thankfully, he falls silent when you say that you actually want to get some grading done unless he actually has a question about the course material. It makes him soften, actually, and he agrees that he’ll sit at the little table and work on some of his own homework. It doesn’t really give the impression that he’s asking you for help, though you’re sure that you could sell it if you needed to.

Normally, it’s not all that distracting to have Jeonghan in your space. Probably because he’s there so often that you’re kind of used to him by now. That’s a thought you don’t allow yourself to dwell on too long. It’s easier to maintain the idea that you kind of hate him than to consider what your real feelings might be. Yet, those thoughts seem to be swirling in your head just by him existing in the same space as you. If he’s equally affected, then you can’t tell. His fingers seem to fly across his keyboard as he works steadily on something.

Without warning, his voice interrupts the rhythm you finally find. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve never asked permission before,” you note, but don’t look up.

“I wasn’t sure if it was an office hours question,” he says with a little hesitation.

That does get you to look over at him. “Is it about the course material?”

“No,” he says.

“Shocking,” you sigh. “Well, whatever it is, let’s have it.”

“Do you want to go out and get dinner sometime?” he asks, looking more vulnerable than usual.

It’s enough to make your heart both constrict and threaten to beat out of your chest. Does he know that you’ve been sitting here internally debating what your actual feelings towards him are? Has it been that obvious on your face?

“With you?” you ask to buy yourself time.

“That would be the idea, yes,” he says with a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t know…” you start.

“You don’t know because you’re trying to spare my feelings? Or you’re not sure for some reason?” he asks to clarify.

That’s such a crossroads kind of question. You’re not actually sure what the answer is yourself. All you know is that you feel immediate panic at the thought of one of the professors, especially Professor Choi, seeing you out with him. It’s not that there are any rules about TAs and students dating. After all, TAs are just students themselves. But, since you’re doing most of the grading, setting some of the assignments, and even leading some of the classes, it’s frowned upon. It could give the student actually in the class some kind of perceived advantage. The thoughts just go rapidly flying through your brain as you look over at Jeonghan’s expectant face.

You decide on some version of the truth: that it doesn’t matter what you think, it’s not a good idea for you to blur that line. That if someone from the university saw you out, that it could possibly jeopardize everything you’ve spent years working on. That Professor Choi seems even more old school than most of the other professors. You’ve already sacrificed so much. It’s just not a risk you think you can take.

What you don’t say: that the question actually confuses you. That you can see yourself saying yes to finally figure out what exactly it is that’s going on with you and Jeonghan. You wonder what type of place he would pick. Wonder what he’s like when it’s really just the two of you without the risk of someone else butting in. You wonder if maybe he’ll answer all those personal questions that he’s so fond of dodging when he’s sitting in your office. It actually makes you wonder if saying yes is worth taking a risk when you’ve been so careful with everything in your entire academic career. It’s the kind of thought that really terrifies you even more. This is a man that you can’t even figure out your feelings towards and yet you’re considering taking a massive risk.

It’s one of the most intense office hours you hold and you’re left with more questions than answers.

It’s been another exhausting day between your own classes, research, and doing work as a TA. Sure, there are definite upsides to your schedule. It helps you feel like you have a complete grasp on the material. It also helps you feel like you might be well suited to being a lecturer or even a professor yourself down the line. You also know that you’re giving more to your time as a TA than you need to. It’s just that you don’t want to leave anything to chance. The stronger the recommendation from Choi, the better.

When you get to your apartment, Seungkwan is in the kitchen with Vernon and Chan. Which should be a concerning sight, since none of them are exactly great cooks, but you’re too tired to really care. You’re also kind of starving and whatever they’re making smells good. What’s the worst that could happen? So you call out quick greetings before heading into your room to drop off your things and change. You reemerge to the sounds of them bickering back and forth.

“Hey, do you want to try some of what we’re making?” Chan calls.

“She’s going to say no,” Seungkwan says.

“I’m starving. I’m down to try whatever it is,” you disagree.

“Looks like Chan wins this one,” Vernon teases.

A beep from your phone distracts you from engaging in the bickering back and forth. It’s the last thing you’re expecting, though it shouldn’t be. Ever since Jeonghan managed to get your number, and heard your half-hearted chat about boundaries, he’s been bothering you whenever he feels like it.

Jeonghan: have you thought about what I asked? You: no Jeonghan: don’t believe you You: my answer hasn’t changed Jeonghan: that it's not a good idea? You: exactly Jeonghan: that’s not a no You: isn’t it? Jeonghan: listen, I respect you and if you tell me no, I won’t ask again Jeonghan: the only thing I’m going to ask if you actually think about it before saying no You: fine

“Hello? Are you there?” Seungkwan asks, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“Huh?” you ask.

“Oh, she’s gone girl,” Chan says with a laugh.

“Who were you texting?” Seungkwan asks. He gives you a look that screams he’s about to tease the shit out of you if you’re honest.

“Oh, nobody important. Just a friend,” you say dismissively.

“Are we calling Jeonghan a friend now?” Seungkwan teases.

“It wasn’t Jeonghan,” you say with an eye roll.

“Who’s Jeonghan?” Vernon asks.

“I think he’s that guy we’ve been betting on when she’s gonna finally give in and sleep with him,” Chan says in an undertone to Vernon.

“I’m not going to sleep with…hang on. What the fuck?” you ask, wheeling around on Seungkwan. “Have you been betting on me again?”

“Only when you’re being an idiot,” Seungkwan says with a shrug.

“Wait, again?” Vernon asks.

“Bro, we have been involved in other bets,” Chan says.

“I need new friends,” you grumble.

From there, it devolves into the usual bickering that you associate with your friend group. Sometimes you wonder how you even got so sucked into this friend group where they’re two or three years younger than you. You’re incredibly thankful for them, though, even in moments like this where you want to strangle them.

Dinner moves into watching something and playing a game. It always goes the same way. Chan or Vernon take care of picking what to watch since they watch more TV and movies than you and Seungkwan. Conversely, Seungkwan usually picks the game, which is never a good idea because he always picks something that he’s good at. It doesn’t really matter to you, at least. Your brain tends to be fried from classes and research and all that. It’s nice to let them just make the decisions and chime in when you have something to say.

Thankfully, the conversations quickly move past your friends and their complete conviction that you have feelings for Jeonghan to much less serious topics. Sitting there, though, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace even in the chaos. Even when you say that you need new friends, you know that you wouldn’t trade these friends for the world.

It’s been just over a week since you promised to give Jeonghan’s question actual thought. You’re still not entirely sure why you agreed. It’s not like you’re actually going to say anything other than no. It’s been a little weird, though, because Jeonghan hasn’t brought it up again, either. It’s like he’s actually been true to his word. He even skipped your office hours when he would usually show up just to bother you and pretend to ask questions.

Since your workload has been a little light, you agree to go out for drinks with Seungkwan and some friends. It’s a much needed night to unwind and just not think about any of the issues that plague you during the week. It’s a night of ridiculous conversations while you all give each other a hard time about nothing that really matters. Eventually, as is always the way it goes, Seungkwan gets up and kicks off some karaoke. It’s a blessing and a curse. He’s got an amazing voice and you feel like you should be paying to hear someone sing that well. But, then he wants other people to join him and none of you are that keen to embarrass yourselves by following him.

Casting your eyes around the bar, they land on someone in a leather jacket. As you watch, he shrugs it off and sets it on the back of his chair. There’s something compellingly beautiful about him. He runs a hair through his short, perfectly textured black hair and turns his face slightly to the side. You’re appreciating his profile for a second before it hits you. This isn’t some stranger. It’s Jeonghan. It’s just that he’s clearly cut his hair and styled it differently. You quickly return your eyes to your group and only can hope that he hasn’t noticed you yet. Then again, Seungkwan has been loud and singing before returning to your table. Most people seem to have noticed him. Still, since Jeonghan hasn’t texted you or come over to say anything, you figure that maybe he hasn’t seen you. No matter what, you down another drink to forget about checking him out.

By the time it’s your turn to go up to the bar and get another round of drinks, you’ve mostly pushed the thought of Jeonghan out of your mind. With your back to his table, it’s been much easier to act like he doesn’t exist. Once you’re at the bar, it’s a little more difficult. Your eyes find his table without even meaning to. His jacket is still there, but he’s not.

“Looking for me?” a soft voice asks from just beside you.

It makes you jump a little to realize that he’s somehow right next to you. You try your hardest to act like you’re unaffected when you turn to face him. Try to act like you didn’t realize he was there. Kind of fail at that, honestly, because you’re one drink past the point of being able to pull it off. “Hey, Jeonghan. How long have you been here?”

He smiles that mischievous smile that always makes him look like he knows something that you don’t. “I saw you looking over at my table. You knew I was here.”

“I almost don’t recognize you with the new haircut and that leather jacket,” you say and only realize your mistake a second too late.

“The leather jacket back at my table?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “I saw you checking your phone too.”

“Were you watching me?” you challenge.

“Yes,” he admits freely. “You’re nice to look at.”

“Oh, well that’s not…I didn’t mean,” you stutter out, saved by the bartender setting a small tray down of drinks for you and your friends.

Somehow, though, because life isn’t fair (and neither is Seungkwan), your best friend picks that moment to waltz over claiming he wants to help with drinks. What he really seems to want is to introduce himself to Jeonghan. Even goes as far as pretending he hasn’t heard Jeonghan’s name before. Seungkwan manages to sell it better too and you think it would probably pass with anyone else that wasn’t paying such sharp attention. It’s only then that you notice Jeonghan doesn’t have a drink in hand. Doesn’t really seem the slightest bit drunk. Which is fine until Seungkwan manages to make it even worse by inviting Jeonghan and his friends to come join your group.

Then, something else that’s kind of weird happens. Jeonghan, who has spent the entirety of the semester up until about a week ago terrorizing you, barely says anything to you at all. He talks about his favorite artists with Seungkwan. Asks Chan for suggestions on some movies that he’s recently seen. Even laughs about random ass memes with Vernon. His friends, whose names you can’t even remember, fit in just as seamlessly. It’s a little…well, uncomfortable. It’s giving you entirely too much time to think and you don’t like it.

So, you do the only reasonable thing and you keep getting drinks. Stay just on the right side of drunk so that you’re aware of your surroundings, but not sober. It makes it easier to deal with everything happening around you.

As the night continues on, your merged groups seem to ebb and flow. Some people wander over, drawn in by the fact that it seems like a fun place to be. Other times, some wander off to make new friends or have new conversations. This is especially true of Seungkwan, which you’re used to. Your roommate is one of the most social people that you know. And then people start to make their excuses to leave as it gets later. How you end up outlasting Chan is a mystery, since he seems to have endless energy. It’s fine, though. You still have your roommate.

Well, until he tells you, without nearly the amount of shame that he should have, that he’s going to be bringing someone home that he got to talking to about karaoke. It’s a little unlike him, at least until you realize that the person isn’t a stranger. They’re definitely someone that Seungkwan has talked to before. It still leaves you a little lost on what to do or where to go.

“I never ask you for anything,” Seungkwan pleads. It’s patently false. He’s always asking you for things, just never things like this.

“I could text Chan or Vernon to see if they’ll let me crash on their couch,” you say, trying to quickly clear the cloudiness from your brain.

“Don’t they put their phones into DND as soon as they get home?” Seungkwan asks.

“My only other option is to just go home and put headphones on,” you say.

“You could come crash at my place. My roommate won’t be back from a trip til tomorrow,” Jeonghan offers.

“Perfect! Thank you!” Seungkwan rushes out.

“Um? Seungkwan? You can’t just send me to some stranger's house?” you protest.

“He’s not a stranger. He’s been in your class all semester and at your office hours nearly every day,” Seungkwan says with an eye roll. Jeonghan looks vindicated hearing this piece of information. “You’re so dramatic.”

“It’ll be fine. I can sleep in his room and you can sleep in mine. I’ll even make sure you have fresh sheets if you’re worried,” he says.

This is definitely a bad idea. Even though you’re not drunk, you’re definitely not sober enough to pretend you’re not at least a little bit interested in Jeonghan. Everything about him seems to be a study in contrasts. Confident but not in some toxic masculinity type of way. Chaotic but serious at the same time. Silly to where he would say he joined a class because he’s good at Legos but also genuinely smart. And beautiful in a way so few men seem to be. He’s just something entirely his own.

You shake your head because you realize you’re spacing out. This is a terrible idea and one you probably wouldn’t agree to if you were sober. It’s not like he’s actually a stranger, though. Jeonghan seems to have realized the conclusion before you open your mouth. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Dangerous question,” Jeonghan says with a glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” Seungkwan says and wraps you up in a hug before skipping off.

“Are you ready to leave, then?” Jeonghan asks when it’s just the two of you.

“Yeah, might as well,” you say. He nods, looking a little unsure for the first time since you’ve known him and turns to grab his jacket. Says a quick goodbye to his friends and you try to ignore the looks they cast over at you.

“Let’s go,” he says a minute later.

“Are we calling an Uber or something?” you ask.

“I’m sober because I rode my bike here,” he says as he leads the way outside.

“I’m sorry, you rode your what?” you ask, brain slow to catch up with what he’s saying. It’s then that you notice he didn’t just grab his jacket. He’s got a helmet as well.

“Bike,” he says and indicates a motorcycle parked outside the bar.

That brings you up a little short. It’s the last thing you would have expected when you thought of this man. Though, maybe it shouldn’t have been. After all, you said he was a study in contrasts. Isn’t this just another one of those?

Somehow, the more you look, the more it seems to suit him. It’s not some big, clunky bike. Not what you typically think of when you think of a motorcycle. It’s sharp and beautiful, just like he is, even if you can only admit that in your head. He pulls open a compartment that seems to be under the backseat and hands over a helmet.

“Promise I won’t go too fast,” he says with a softer smile than you’ve seen on him before. Like he’s actually trying to reassure you.

Sure, it’s not the first time you’ve been on a bike. It’s just that of all the ways you could have seen this night ending, this wasn’t one of them. At least you’re not feeling too self conscious as you slide onto the bike behind Jeonghan and wrap your arms around his waist. You miss the way his breath stutters as you settle in close to him. Miss the way his heart starts to beat out of his chest because you’re too focused on getting comfortable. Don’t even think twice about clinging to his lean frame. But, even with the drinks, it’s hard to ignore the way that your body slots perfectly against his. Or the way your thighs squeeze against his hips. Maybe there’s a lot more to whatever has been happening than you’ve been admitting to yourself.

Once you reach Jeonghan’s apartment, he carefully helps you off the bike and then puts a bit of distance between you again. It’s the first time that you notice he seems nervous, like maybe, you think, he might be reconsidering if this was a good idea. There’s not really much you can do about that now. You promised Seungkwan that he could have some privacy in the apartment and you’re already here. It can’t possibly be so bad that you really regret coming here. It could even help you sort through the very complicated feelings that are making their presence known.

Inside the apartment it’s incredibly cozy. Not at all like you imagine two single guys would live while they’re in school. It’s not overly cluttered, but it doesn’t feel cold either. Jeonghan disappears as soon as you both have your shoes off, which lets you look around at some of the decorations. He returns with a spare t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. Despite your insistence that it’s fine, he just presses them to you and indicates where the bathroom is for you to change.

It feels oddly…comfortable. Like this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him outside of class or your office. It also makes you take a little longer to change because you have to process whatever you’re feeling. Since you’re not sure exactly what to do after you change, you peek your head out into the living area. Jeonghan is setting some snacks and water out with the TV on in the background. You take it as a sign that you’re supposed to come out and join him. Momentarily, he disappears into his room and reappears also wearing more comfortable clothes.

The confusion only gets even worse from there. Maybe it’s just that Seungkwan’s gotten into your head. Since you’re finally processing that you might be interested in being something a little more with Jeonghan, you expect things to go a certain way. Seungkwan, and your other friends, for that matter, seem to think it’s only a matter of time before you cross over into being more than friends. Subconsciously, your brain must have latched onto that. Even wanted it, a little. But, now you’re here, and Jeonghan doesn’t do anything. He’s not the smooth, confident person that you’ve gotten to know over the course of the semester. He doesn’t try to pull any moves on you. Just makes sure that you’re comfortable, that you like the snacks, and that you like the show he has on.

It all feels like it’s a little too much and so Jeonghan shows you the way to his bedroom. Your nerves feel frayed because surely, this is the moment where things finally shift. Surely this is when he makes whatever move he’s held off on making up until this point. Quickly, you brush off the need to change the sheets. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal if something else happens. Without giving your brain a chance to overthink it, you lean in to give him a hug. His whole body tenses for a second and you’re about to pull away, when he finally relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“You know, you can just sleep in your own bed,” you offer carefully.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he says through an emotion that you can’t place.

“I won’t be. Plus, I’d hate to force you into your roommate’s bed,” you suggest again, meeting his eye to reinforce the point.

“Oh, well, it’s…” he starts, eyes avoiding your gaze.

“Really, Jeonghan, it’s fine. Your bed is big,” you say.

“Okay,” he agrees and walks to the other side of the bed.

It’s confusing, to say the least. He slides into the opposite side of the bed without meeting your eyes again. You’re not exactly sure how to give him another sign that you want something else to happen without making it too obvious, especially because it’s not clear if he wants that. The guy constantly in your office was just on the right side of flirty. Always trying to wear you down. This Jeonghan in his apartment is much quieter, more reserved. Like he’s not really sure what happens now that he’s gotten you outside of school like he claims he’s wanted.

“D’you usually sleep with the TV on?” he asks and you pull a face.

“I’m not a psycho,” you snort.

“Good to know after I let you into my apartment,” he jokes back and turns on the TV anyway. “I’ll set a timer just in case we both fall asleep.”

Confusing. You’re laying in bed with this person that up until tonight you referred to as basically a stranger and there’s just…nothing happening. The two of you are plenty close enough that you could brush up against him, yet not touching at all. His attention seems to stay forward on the TV. Occasionally, he shifts to get more comfortable, but he doesn’t get onto his phone or even really look over at you.

Thankfully, the bed is comfortable and without even realizing it, you drift off to sleep laying on your side, facing Jeonghan. The last thing you remember is looking up at his face. Appreciating the cut of his jaw and the way the light from the TV threw his features into contrast. Then nothing but the easiest sleep you’ve had after a night of drinking.

In the morning, when it’s too early to wake up after a late night but late enough that the sun seeps through the curtains, you have a momentary panic wondering where you are. Slowly, the night before settles back into your brain and you relax into the bed. It’s only when you feel a weight around your middle that you wonder if everything is coming back. It is, though. You think back to the last things you remember before falling asleep. Jeonghan was safely on his side of the bed. Now, his arm is draped over your waist and he’s breathing rhythmically like he’s still fast asleep. For once, instead of overthinking it, you just slow your brain back down and drift back into sleep. After all, this is one the right path to what you wanted the night before.

The sun is fully up when you wake up again if the light streaming around the curtains is any indication. That’s not the only difference, either. There’s no weight around your waist and, when you look over your shoulder, the other side of the bed is empty. Which isn’t entirely surprising when your phone tells you that it’s nearly noon. It’s very unlike you to sleep in that late, but it makes sense. You’re just thankful that Jeonghan insisted on giving you so much water and something to make sure you didn’t wake up with a headache. Even though you’re still a little tired, you’re not hungover and that feels like a miracle.

But, what do you do now? Nothing happened last night, despite genuinely feeling like Jeonghan had some level of interest in you. But, then he did share the bed with you and curl up to you during the night. Maybe that was his subconscious way of showing what he couldn’t say. You’re out of the bed and nearly out the bedroom door when you hear voices drifting in from somewhere else in the apartment. Voices, plural. One is clearly Jeonghan, but the other sounds female and that stops you in your tracks.

The decision is immediate once you hear the second voice laughing at something Jeonghan says. You open your group chat with Seungkwan, Chan, and Vernon to ask if any of them are around to pick you up. Chan is the first, and fastest, to respond, saying to drop your location and he’ll be out the door to get you in a minute without any questions asked. That’s more than you’re expecting and you’re incredibly thankful. Makes it feel like one weight has been lighted as you quickly and quietly get dressed back into the clothes you wore the night before.

Chan texts you to let you know he’s only a few minutes out. That’s your queue to actually leave the bedroom and make an appearance out in the rest of the apartment. Jeonghan’s back is to you and it looks like he’s got a cup of coffee next to him. The other person you heard from the bedroom is, in fact, a woman. She’s stunning in an effortless way that actually makes your head hurt a little bit. It has absolutely nothing to do with the drinks the night before, either. Her eyes land on you and there’s a smile you can’t place. It could be saying that she knows she won, despite whatever effort you made. Something on her face must tip Jeonghan off because he turns around.

And it’s worse than you thought, immediately. The smile on his face is both welcoming and soft, like he’s actually happy to see you. It only makes the whole thing more confusing. Why is he looking at you like that with one of the most beautiful people sitting across from him?

“You’re awake,” he says, still smiling. “I hope Hana here didn’t make too much noise.”

“Sorry, babe, I only have one volume setting,” she, Hana, apparently, says with another smile you can’t place.

“Do you want coffee? Something to eat?” Jeonghan says and starts to get out of his chair.

“No, no, it’s fine. My friend is almost here to pick me up. Thanks for letting me crash last night,” you say without fully meeting Jeonghan’s eyes. It means you miss the confusion that settles in there.

Without a backward glance, you’re out the door and down the elevator. It’s only another minute or so before Chan pulls up, shockingly by himself, and smiles softly at you as you get into his car. All he asks is if you’re hungry and then starts navigating to your favorite place to get breakfast food that’s open at least into the early afternoon. It’s exactly what you need right now.

Chan lets you just be in your head while he drives with music playing softly in the background. It might be a dangerous decision, honestly. All you can think about are reasons for that person, Hana, your brain supplies automatically, to be in Jeonghan’s apartment like that. His roommate wasn’t home, to the best of your knowledge, so that means she was there for Jeonghan. Was that his girlfriend? Was that why he was so reluctant to do anything the night before? On some level, you do know that’s probably not the right answer. The rational part of your brain knows that he wouldn’t be so calm if that was his girlfriend. There’s no space in your brain for rationality right now, though. So, you’re going to stew in the feelings that she could be dating someone.

“Do you wanna talk about whatever happened last night?” Chan asks once you’re sitting opposite of each other in a booth.

“Not really,” you say. “Nothing happened last night, though. So, you don’t have to worry about whoever wins the bet.”

“I’m not worried about some stupid bet. I’m worried about you,” he says.

You shrug. “I think I might actually like him.”

“No shit,” Chan says with a knowing smile.

“You didn’t let me finish. I think I might like him and I don’t think it matters,” you say.

“Start at the beginning and we’ll figure this out together.”

It’s been a week since whatever happened at Jeonghan’s apartment and you haven’t spoken a word to him since leaving. Not that he hasn’t tried to speak to you. After breakfast with Chan, you realized you had both texts and missed calls from Jeonghan trying to figure out what went wrong. Those stay unanswered. Even if you’re being stupid, you can’t really bring yourself to behave in a different way. When the next class comes around, you avoid his eyes as much as possible. The one or two times you do look over at him, he looks incredibly hurt and confused. It’s funny, you think, how he’s the one that’s acting put out by this whole situation when you’re the one who had to wake up to some other woman in his apartment without understanding anything.

That leads to your first office hours. Thankfully, Jeonghan doesn’t show up to those like he normally would. The office feels a lot quieter, even though other students stop by to ask questions. It just all feels very professional and detached. Not comfortable in the way it does when he drops by. It’s hard to admit, even to yourself, that you had gotten used to having him around. That you even looked forward to it. Somehow, you’re not really sure how, Jeonghan became one of your favorite parts of every day you saw him. That realization makes you want to crawl into your bed and hide forever. No matter what, it doesn’t feel like you’ll have the option to go back to that. It sucks to realize it just took you too long to come to the very obvious conclusion.

Now, at least, it’s the weekend again so you have a short reprieve from all things school related. Well, all things Jeonghan related because you still have your own homework to handle, assignments to grade, and a new week to prepare for. At the very least, you deserve a little bit of a treat. Texting the group chat makes you realize, though, that a lot of your friends seem to have their own things going on.

Seungkwan is out spending the day with the same person that he brought home last weekend. They seem like they’re really enjoying getting to know each other, which you’re rooting for wholeheartedly. You want your roommate and best friend to be happy. Vernon is kind of vague saying that he’s got other plans. With anyone else, you might think that he’s also seeing someone. You just know that he tends to be a little spacy when it comes to sharing plans. Knowing Vernon, he’s probably just off with some friend of his. Once again, Chan comes through and says that he could really use a coffee. Apparently, there’s some new cafe by him that he’s been wanting to try out. It feels like an excuse because Chan will absolutely go anywhere by himself, but you take it all the same. He’s actually probably the easiest of your friends to speak to about this, even if he’s younger than you are.

One sip into your drink proves that this is the best decision for a Saturday afternoon. Chan chatters away about the things that have been going on in his life. He’s taking more dance classes in every free moment he has and it’s nice to see the way his face lights up talking about it. He certainly seems happier than any time you see him talking about his actual classes. Think about suggesting he give up one thing to pursue something else that would truly make him happy. His face is different when he’s happy like this. It makes it obvious how strained he feels with everything else.

A laugh pierces through the crowd and it gives you the worst sense of deja vu. Suddenly, you’re back in Jeonghan’s apartment. Which is crazy, right? What are the odds that he and the mystery woman are in this same coffee shop at the same time as you and Chan?

Not impossible, apparently. Well, at least in part. Your eyes cast around for the source of the laugh when they land on the mystery woman sitting with someone else that you don’t recognize. Your brain tries to stutter over the name before it forces you to think, Hana. Just as you’re about to look away, her eyes find yours like she could sense someone looking at her. She flashes a smile, which you try to return, before looking back at Chan and whatever story he’s sharing.

That should be it. Except, when she appears by your side a moment later, you realize it’s not. She has someone else you’ve never seen in tow behind her. Chan, not always as quick on the uptake, looks up at her in confusion.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you remembered me…” she begins and you’re quick to answer.

“I do, yeah. Sorry about the other day,” you say. Chan’s face has a look of dawning comprehension.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. I didn’t even catch your name,” Hana says and you open your mouth to share before she cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “No, Jeonghan told me. He’s done nothing but speak about you for weeks now.”

“And I thought I could be annoying,” the mystery person says from behind Hana.

“Oh, I’m so rude. This is my boyfriend, Joshua,” Hana introduces and your brain short circuits. What? Boyfriend?

“And Jeonghan’s roommate. I hit traffic coming back last weekend or I would’ve been there to meet you as well. Make the morning even more awkward,” he jokes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, rapidly trying to make your brain connect. “You two are dating?”

“Yup!” Hana says with a smile and then notices your face. “Wait, what did you think? That I was dating Jeonghan?”

“Oh, well, I don’t know. I just thought…it was still early-ish in the day and…” you stumble awkwardly.

“Babe, no. Jeonghan is very single. I was just early getting there because Joshua hit traffic and I was excited to see him,” she says. “He will kill me for saying this, but he hasn’t talked about anyone but you since the class started.”

“Please note that I had no part in spilling the beans. I have to live with him,” Joshua jokes.

“And just so there’s no more confusion, I’m one of her closest friends, Chan. Not a boyfriend or date or anything like that,” Chan says.

“Oh!” Hana says and turns to Joshua. “Jeonghan was mentioning him, remember? There was a movie we were supposed to watch.”

“Yeah, he did mention that,” Joshua agrees.

“Anyway, I’m sure you have lots to think about, but I’m nosy and I figured I’d say hi. Have a good weekend!” Hana says, full of more energy than anyone should have on the weekend. Joshua gives a smile and follows her out of the shop.

As soon as they’re out of sight, you drop your head into your hands. All that worrying and you could have just talked to him. Could have avoided this whole idiotic situation.

“Feeling kinda dumb right now?” Chan asks. You raise your head to glare at him. “I did say it didn’t seem like he was seeing someone.”

“Not the time, Chan,” you say.

“It’s completely the time. Look, yeah you fucked up by not just talking to him. But, you admitted that you liked him. He clearly likes you. Just talk to him. I’m sure you can fix it,” he says.

“I don’t know,” you start. “I was such an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah, you kind of were. But, he spent that whole night after Seungkwan invited them over getting to know your friends. Genuinely interested in everything we said. He’s not doing that just to make more friends. He wants to show you that he can fit into your life without anything really having to change,” Chan reasons and it brings you up short.

“When did you get so smart?” you question.

“I’ve always been smart, you just treat me like a baby,” he says with an eye roll.

“You are the baby in this friend group,” you point out.

“Just go figure out how to make it up to him,” Chan says.

Even though you know it was a terrible miscommunication, you’re not sure how to approach Jeonghan for the rest of the weekend. You’re also not sure how the conversation will go. So, despite knowing better, you decide to just take your time. Get yourself completely set for the coming week and figure that you’ll see Jeonghan during the next class. As much as you want resolution, you don’t feel like it would be enough for you to text him and ask to talk. That could also be taken wildly out of context.

So, you prepare for the next class. Make sure you look a little cuter than you normally would for class. Go over what you’re going to say with both Seungkwan and Chan, who’s gotten incredibly invested in the whole situation. It’s another class where you’ll just be sitting in the back and listening, which might also make it easier. You’re a little early getting there so that you can set all your things down.

But, then the class starts to fill in and you don’t see Jeonghan. Professor Choi closes the door, doesn’t comment on Jeonghan’s absence, and just starts teaching. It’s unusual. He normally takes attendance. Instead, he does a head count of the students and gets on with teaching. Everyone else is there. Jeonghan is the only one missing. You figure that maybe he reached out about missing the class. It leaves a weird feeling in your stomach, though, because you wonder if he’s okay. What if something happened to him?

At the end of class, you join Choi at the front as you do on every other occasion. The answer comes immediately when Choi looks up at you. “Mr. Yoon emailed me before the class to say that he was feeling very sick and wouldn’t be able to make it. I assured him you would send over some notes on the subject matter today.”

You try to avoid any relief that you feel at knowing it’s at least nothing that serious. It sucks that he’s sick, but at least he wasn’t in an accident or anything. You need to stop going to the worst case scenario, honestly. “Oh, sure. I’m sure he’s already ahead on the material, but I’ll send it over.”

“He’s such a good student,” Choi agrees. “Thank you for helping him with the proposal. I’m not sure if you read it over, but it’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“I did read it because he wrote it during my office hours. But, it was all him,” you say.

Professor Choi looks up at you like he knows that’s not entirely true. “I can feel your influence on it. In a good way, of course. You have a habit of helping people get to their best results.”

“Thank you,” you say earnestly. It’s the most genuine compliment he’s ever given you. He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a folder to hand to you. “Did I miss picking up an assignment to grade?”

“No,” he says with a smile you’re not used to seeing. “This is your letter for the recommendation packet. I already sent it in, but I thought you might like to see a copy.”

“Thank you so much, Professor Choi,” you say with a relieved sigh.

“You’re incredibly bright, probably one of the brightest students I’ve ever taught,” he says and it takes you completely by surprise. “I know it’s probably seemed like I’ve been hard on you because I have been. I knew there was even more potential in you waiting to be coaxed out. I also know I made it much easier on John to ask for a recommendation. But, between you and I, your letter is much more complimentary and personal than his was. I can’t wait to see what you accomplish.”

It all suddenly makes sense. Everything that Choi has put you through since asking for his letter. It almost makes you laugh. “I’m sorry for doubting your motives for asking me to TA this class.”

Now, Professor Choi does actually laugh. “Oh, no need to apologize for that. It’s much easier to get the most out of a student when they think they have something to prove.”

“You may be onto something,” you agree.

“I’ll see you next class,” he says and closes up his briefcase to head off.

With that bit of good news, you feel a lot lighter. You almost don’t even need to read the letter (though, you definitely will later). It’s enough to know that your entire future is still open ahead of you. It makes all of the miscommunication with Jeonghan feel incredibly silly. It also makes you feel a little bolder. So, you figure that you still have the location for Jeonghan’s apartment dropped in a group chat. Why not get him some food and medicine to help him feel better? It’ll give you a chance to apologize for how you’ve handled everything up until this point.

That idea seems a little poorly thought out when you show up at Jeonghan’s apartment with soup and medication. He answers the door, looking completely fine healthwise and confused to see you standing on the other side of the door.

“Professor Choi said you were really sick so I figured I’d bring some soup to help you feel better,” you offer, holding up the bag to show him.

“Why are you here?” he asks. There’s none of the normal warmth.

“I was worried about you,” you admit.

He sighs and leans against the doorframe without letting you in. “I can’t do these mind games.”

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I know I messed up really badly. I owe you an apology.”

“You might as well come in,” Jeonghan says and steps aside. “Soup does also sound good. It’s cold out.”

“Right, here,” you say and hand it over to him.

“Is there enough for you to eat with me?” he asks and takes the bag. “Oh, it looks like it. Wanna join me? And you can try to explain what’s been going on?”

“Sure,” you agree.

It’s mostly silent as Jeonghan heats up the soup and puts it into two bowls for you to enjoy it with him. He sets the bowls at the kitchen table and also sets some drinks down for you. The two of you take a few sips first before you venture to explain what’s been going on.

“I’m really sorry, Jeonghan,” you say.

“So you’ve said,” he comments. He’s not going to make this easy on you.

“That whole night when I stayed here wasn’t exactly what I signed up for,” you admit. He opens his mouth, but you wave him off. “Let me try to get this out. You were so kind and caring to me when you brought me back here. Then, I was kind of expecting something to happen and nothing did…”

“Because you had been drinking. I wasn’t just gonna be like hey, let’s jump into bed when your mind wasn’t fully clear,” he says with a scoff.

“That’s fair. I get that,” you acknowledge. “Then, I don’t know. I saw Hana sitting out here with you the next day and I just kinda freaked out. I had realized that I might actually like you and here’s this beautiful person in your apartment for who knows what reason. I worried she was your girlfriend or something.”

He snorts a little derisively at that. “That would be kinda shitty to share a bed with you and then let you walk out to find me with a girlfriend. She’s not, by the way. She’s my roommate Joshua’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. I ran into her and Joshua while I was getting coffee over the weekend,” you admit sheepishly. This seems to surprise him.

“You met Joshua?” he asks.

“They didn’t tell you?” you ask in return and he shakes his head. “Probably because Hana told me that I’m the only one you’ve talked about since starting the class.”

“I wouldn’t have even cared if I had an answer to why you started ignoring me,” he says.

“I got a bit scared,” you say softly.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t just speak to me,” he insists.

“I know that. I really am sorry, that’s all I can say,” you offer.

“Well that and you can tell me that you do actually like me. Not that you might like me or something else vague,” he says with a glint to his eyes.

“You are…infuriating,” you say with a laugh. “You’re beautiful and smart and funny and impossibly kind. You make me want to pull out my hair at least once a day…”

“Don’t do that. You have nice hair,” he interjects.

“But, yes, I’m trying not to be scared anymore. So yeah, I do like you,” you say.

“What about being the TA for my class?” he asks and you shrug.

“The class will end eventually,” you say.

“Does this count as our first date, then?” he asks like the true demon he is.

“Only if you plan something else for our second date,” you concede.

“Deal,” he agrees.

Everything feels a little bit easier after that. A little bit lighter. Like you actually can breathe for the first time all semester. You tell Jeonghan about the letter and he suggests that you read it right then with him. It makes sense, in a way. Working with Jeonghan has brought out exactly the side to you that Choi wanted to see. It feels like this is kind of his win as well, even though he didn’t realize it. It also feels a little less overwhelming to read it with him by your side. (It’s a rave. Way better than anything you could have dared to hope for and better than any other letter written by him that you’ve read. Everything feels worth it and like it falls into place.)

Now that the awkwardness is out of the way, Jeonghan shares that he wasn’t actually sick, which you already know. It’s obvious looking at him that he feels fine. It does surprise you a bit that he admits to avoiding you to give himself time to process, though. Then he moves onto talking about Joshua and Hana, grumbling that they hadn’t told him about running into you after you relay the entire conversation. Even goes as far as to say that he would have come to class so that you could have figured all of this out. Instead, he admits telling Joshua about the plan to skip. That’s why Joshua isn’t there, though. He claimed he was going to give Jeonghan his space to work through whatever he was feeling and spend the night at Hana’s. You make a mental note to thank Joshua for that.

“How early is your day tomorrow? Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something?” he asks a little awkwardly when you finish your soup.

“Not that early,” you answer easily. “A movie sounds good, but can we watch something in your room? I feel like laying in bed and being lazy.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he says.

“We don’t have to,” you say quickly.

“Can I say something that’s really gonna make me look…not cool?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say curiously.

“You make me a little nervous,” he admits.

That completely surprises you. Nothing about Jeonghan really seems anything short of confident in everything that he does. It’s kind of nice to see him falter. All you do is hold out a hand to him. “It’s okay, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

He takes your hand easily and lets you lead him into his own bedroom. Seems very content to let you just set the pace of what’s happening. So, you settle on top of his covers and he hands you the remote. It’s nice to get to control what’s on the TV for a change, even if you’re not really paying much attention to it. Jeonghan is a little stiff against his headboard as you try to settle into his body.

“Is it okay if I lean against you like this?” you ask, suddenly worrying this is too much.

“Of course,” he says after a moment.

“You can tell me if…” you start.

“No,” he says firmly. “No, I’ve been thinking about this since the last time I had you in my bed.”

“Just since then?” you tease.

“No, it was definitely before then, but I’ve already lost a lot of cool points,” he says.

“I don’t want to possibly misread the signs, but are you okay with…” you start, once again, before he cuts you off.

“I am fine with absolutely anything you want to give me,” he says and you wish you could see his face. Wonder if he’s blushing.

“And if that’s just a cuddle?” you test.

“Fine,” he says.

“Or if it’s a kiss?” you ask and feel the breath he takes. “Or what about if it’s a lot more than a kiss?”

He takes another beat. His voice sounds a bit strained when he speaks. “Definitely more than just fine.”

That’s really all the confirmation that you need. Making sure you’re on the same page is important and getting this kind of consent makes it easier to relax. You settle further back into his chest and pull his arm around you, let one of your own arms drape across his lap. It feels like it might be easier for him to settle that way. So that you can’t see his face and he doesn’t have to worry about losing any more cool points. Not that those really matter with you anyway. More than anything, it’s entertaining to see the way this constantly confident, perpetual pain in the ass gets so tongue-tied now that he’s getting what he wants.

The more time goes by, the more he seems to relax a little more into what’s happening around him. His fingers absently run along your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. He leans his head down to meet yours and you could swear his lips press the lightest kiss into your hair. His entire presence is a little overwhelming. And he smells amazing. It’s such a unique scent that you can’t place. Something light, airy, and delicate. Something that seems to perfectly suit him. It might be your new favorite scent.

Nothing about the TV show is keeping your attention. It feels like little more than a precursor to what you both know is coming. But, Jeonghan doesn’t make the first move beyond the contact his fingers make with your arm. The first actual move seems like it might belong to you, which is actually kind of exciting. It’s a bit thrilling to know that you’re going to be in charge with this man who’s done nothing but send every one of your senses into overdrive. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t need to be in control of everything.

Almost as if you’re testing the water, you run your hand across his lap, careful to go slowly. He stops breathing for a second as he seems to wait to see what you’ll do next. It prompts you to run your hand back and forth a few more times, not bothering to move on from the subtle imprint of his dick through his sweatpants. Everything about him stills: his hand freezes on your arm, he doesn’t fidget, and his breathing is incredibly shallow. He starts to get noticeably harder underneath your hand while you keep your eyes trained forward, even though you have no idea what’s going on in whatever show you picked as background noise. There’s something strangely intimate about this in the way it feels a little innocent.

Finally, when he starts to moan a little with each motion, you pull your hand away. Delight in the way he actually whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s time to actually face him so that you can see what you’re doing to him. Repositioning yourself, you see the look on his face. He’s a little flushed just from the attention and his eyes are wide. Waiting. All he’s doing is waiting to let you set what happens next, like he can’t really believe that this is happening after so much time. It is, though.

You run a hand through his hair and marvel at how soft it is when it looks perfectly styled. Either his hair just looks like that or he’s got the best products in the world. Neither feels fair when he’s already this stunningly beautiful. Gently, you lean forward to press your lips against his. Let your hand tangle in his hair as you anchor yourself to him. The kiss is at complete odds with you slowly rubbing him through his pants. There’s a little bit of desperation and you’re not even sure which of you it’s coming from. All you know for sure is that his lips are so soft that they feel like clouds and he doesn’t even fight you for control when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just meets whatever pace you set. He really is happy with whatever you give him.

Your free hand winds down his body and doesn’t waste any time slipping into the waistband of his pants. When your hand wraps around his cock, he tries to pull away from the kiss, but you don’t let him. The moan that comes from you running your thumb over his tip gets caught up in your lips. You pull your hand out just long enough to spit into your palm and return it to the inside of his pants. Jeonghan does break the kiss when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes the first time, a hiss coming out of his mouth.

“Are you still sure you’re okay?” you ask, but it’s almost more of a tease.

“Fuck,” he hisses out. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

Hearing him nearly begging like that is the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Never could you have imagined you would have this man like putty beneath your hands. It’s going to your head a little bit and then it hits you. You wonder if you can make him come just like this. Wonder how that would feel to have that kind of power over him.

So, you do the only logical thing, and decide to test it out. You kiss him again, fierce and messy and desperate. Keep a steady rhythm of stroking him. He’s a squirming, writhing mess under your touch and it’s like he doesn’t even remember what to do with his hands. It’s actually turning you on as well to know that he wants you this bad. That nothing more than your lips and his touch are going to send him over the edge. It’s obvious when he starts getting close because he works harder to break the kiss. Can’t seem to catch his breath. You take a little pity on him and kiss across his jaw. Even pull away to watch him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he whimpers.

“So come,” you direct.

“I can’t come in my pants like a fucking teenager,” he protests. “Please, I’m begging…”

“I want you to come for me, Jeonghan. Right now. Exactly like this. Come for me and show me how desperate you’ve been to have my hands on your cock,” you instruct.

“Fuck,” he draws out. “Fuck, I can’t…I’m gonna…”

His release comes almost out of nowhere, so hard and heavy that it coats your hand as you continue to stroke him through the release, coaxing every last bit from him. Once he’s spent, he collapses back against the headboard of the bed and you see any tension drain from his body. You pull your hand from inside his pants and wipe it off on them. Thankfully, he doesn’t even seem to protest.

While his breathing steadies, you shift and get off of the bed. He slowly opens his eyes and tracks your movement. Only swallows a little hard when you start to undress without taking your eyes off him. Sometimes, this part makes you a little self conscious. It’s much easier now, though, knowing you had just made Jeonghan come in his pants. That’s an ego boost you never expected to get. His breath stutters when you even remove your bra and panties, leaving yourself completely exposed before him. His eyes go somehow even wider when you get back onto the bed and position yourself in front of him. He reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away.

“Oh, no, no,” you chastise softly. “No, my little demon, you are going to watch now.”

“Watch?” he asks.

“Yes, watch,” you confirm and study his face. “Don’t you want to watch me get myself off? Don’t you want to watch me show you exactly what it is that I like?”

“F-fuck that’s…wow,” he stutters out.

You lean back, using one hand behind you on the bed to brace yourself. You spread your legs open to show him the way your pussy already glistens a little. The kissing and the feel of bringing him over the edge like that really turned you on. It’s a little bit of a first for you. Running a finger up your entrance, you collect some of the wetness there. Do it once more for good measure. And then, still emboldened by what’s happened so far, you reach forward to hold your finger out to Jeonghan. Let it run along his lip until he takes it into his mouth and tastes you.

“Fuck, you’re so…just, fuck,” he hisses. “Can I…”

“No,” you say and cut him off, pulling your finger back.

Now that you’ve had a taste of him begging for something, you want to drive him to that again. Want to get him so turned on that he can’t even see straight. You slowly tease at your entrance and watch the way his eyes track each movement. When you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples, he seems like he can’t really figure out where to look. Then, you slide one finger into your pussy and it’s like he can’t see to take his eyes off the motion. You moan, even though it’s nowhere near enough of a stretch, and increase the rhythm. Quickly add another finger and start to fuck yourself just the way you like. Just the way you would when you want to draw out your release a little more than using a toy. You slide your free hand down your body and use it to rub small circles on your clit. Somewhere, the thought of Jeonghan watching you becomes a little secondary. It’s incredibly sexy to know that he’s just watching, but you’re also invested in your own high. You want to do this for yourself as much as to show Jeonghan. Can’t possibly realize that Jeonghan is even more turned on knowing that you’re so lost to your own passion.

The orgasm washes over you more suddenly than you’re expecting and it takes a moment to catch your breath. It takes another moment to realize that Jeonghan has undressed himself while you were lost in your own world. He isn’t touching himself though and you can’t figure out if he’s still sensitive or just waiting for your permission. It’s hard to avoid the realization that every part of him is beautiful. His body is all lean lines, not overly muscular, yet still looks strong. Even his cock is kind of beautiful in a way, which isn’t fair. It’s not surprising, though.

“That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” he admits, a little breathless.

“D’you think you can make me come as well?” you tease. “Want to feel my pussy squeeze around you?”

He nods immediately and it makes you laugh a little. “I know I can. I want…”

“To taste me?” you offer and his eyes go dark with lust.

“Can I?” he asks. “Can I actually get a taste? Just your finger wasn’t really enough.”

“I want to see what that mouth can do when it’s not talking a mile a minute,” you say. “I hope you’re just as good with your tongue.”

It’s obvious that this catches him a little off guard that you’re so confident now with him. So easily fall into telling him exactly what you want him to do. But, you’re very curious to see what his skills are like. The two of you reposition so that he can settle between your legs. His eyes find yours, searching, Maybe asking permission. You nod and he uses his fingers to spread your lips open. He licks up your core and mutters a quiet fuck under his breath at your lingering wetness. The breath against your core sends a slight shiver through your body.

After all the build up and everything, you don’t really have the patience for him to go slow. So, you tangle your hand into his hair and press his head further into your cunt. Force his nose to brush against your clit. Don’t really stop to consider if it’s too much for him. His moans into you seem to show that they’re not, though. It’s nice to just take what you need and know that he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. When you ask him (read: tell him) to add a finger, he does it without question. For someone that always seems to have a retort for everything, he’s surprisingly quiet now. Nothing piercing the quiet of the room apart from the constant stream of moans from both of you and curses from you as you get closer to your second orgasm.

The second one hits a lot harder than the first, a fact that you wouldn’t really want to admit to Jeonghan. It’s too obvious to hide, though. You don’t even care. Jeonghan’s tongue is far better than anything you could have dreamed about. Not that you were dreaming about it. (And not that you ever got yourself off in the shower or in your bed, late at night, thinking of the annoying guy who wouldn’t ever seem to leave you alone. Absolutely not.) When you open your eyes again, you find Jeonghan looking at you with awe. There’s nothing smug about his look. It makes your insides go even a little mushier. It’s definitely not the time for those kinds of emotions.

“Wow,” is all Jeonghan says.

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Do you still want to…? I mean, can we still…” he starts.

“Jeonghan, do I make you feel that nervous?” you joke. “You just ate me out and made me come all over your face.”

He shrugs. “I just don’t wanna press my luck.”

“Maybe we just stop here then,” you say with a return shrug. “I’m not sure you want it enough.”

“Oh, no, I definitely want it,” he disagrees.

“Are you sure?” you taunt. “Sure you can handle it?”

That unleashes a side of Jeonghan you haven’t fully seen yet. The next moment, he’s begging you for your pussy. Begging you to show you how much he still wants you. Begging to make up for the fake that he came in his pants just at your touch. Just begging for anything and everything. He even goes as far as to say that he’ll do all the work. It shouldn’t be working for you. It’s kind of lame, the way he just can’t seem to stop himself from running his mouth. And, unfortunately, it’s working for you. You kiss him just to make him stop.

The kiss immediately turns into something desperate, but you’re not sure which one of you takes it there first. Every new bit of him you get only makes you want even more of him. It’s kind of insane to think you weren’t even sure you liked him when it’s been so easy to fall into this. Jeonghan breaks the kiss and reaches over into his nightstand for a condom. Somehow, he manages to get it on in nearly record speed, despite his nerves about everything else. He doesn’t waste any time in positioning himself, either. You lie back when he spreads your legs open and seems a little drunk on the sight of you. You tap his side with your foot and he shakes his head clear of whatever he was thinking.

Jeonghan lines himself up at your entrance and presses his tip in. You arch your back, moaning at the initial stretch. It’s immediately better than either of your fingers or his tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in and it makes him snap into you in one swift movement. All you wanted was to be full and you squeeze your walls around him. Direct him to move. The two of you work together to figure out the right pace, knowing that neither of you is likely to last all that long. You’re both a little sensitive from everything in the lead up to this moment. Still, you revel in the way that Jeonghan rolls his hips into you. Appreciate the way that he nearly pulls all the way out before snapping back into you. Moan into the sloppy kiss when your mouths crash together. It’s hard to tell where your own whines start and his moans begin. The sounds all kind of blend together into some kind of weird harmony.

Where Jeonghan was incredibly vocal when he was begging, he doesn’t seem to have a coherent thought to share now. Yet, his eyes never leave you. Like he’s trying to map each part of your body. It’s too fast for him to learn what you actually like. That’s not what you need, not right now. What you need is to have another release, one that comes at the same time as his own. And that’s exactly what you get when you come hard again just as you feel his thrusts stutter. A moment later, he’s coming into the condom and eventually stilling inside of you.

The last thing you want is to feel the loss of him inside of you, but you understand that he has to pull out. His breathing is heavy when he rolls over onto his back. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to get out of bed. That it’s a struggle. But, he gets up to dispose of the condom and you hear water running in the distance. He returns a moment later with a wet cloth and starts gently washing you without even asking. He tosses the cloth on his dresser and then collapses back on the bed next to you. Pulls you into his body without a second thought.

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” you say softly while you’re nestled into him.

“Like I would let you leave,” he says just as softly.

“Oh, the man that begs for my pussy is going to force me to stay?” you challenge.

You feel the way his chest slightly rumbles with laughter. “I was hoping you’d let me live for a second.”

“After you not letting me live since we met? Fat chance,” you answer.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he says.

“I really don’t want to leave tonight, though, so hopefully you have more clothes to lend me,” you say.

“You’re gonna have to let me move for that,” he says in return.

“Worst offer I’ve gotten all day, but fine,” you agree and allow him to disentangle from you.

Once he offers you some clothes, you also get up from the bed to get dressed. Try not to ogle Jeonghan too much as he does the same. He catches you, because of course he does, but surprisingly doesn’t say anything. Only smiles back at you. You help him remake the bed before the two of you go back out into the living area. It occurs to you that you didn’t exactly let your roommate know what you were up to before just heading straight over to see Jeonghan.

A fact that is immediately obvious when you see the texts and missed calls on your phone. Oop.

“Hey,” you call out to Jeonghan. “My roommate, I’m sure you remember him…”

“Yeah, Seungkwan, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, he’s freaking out because I forgot to say I was coming over here,” you say. “I’m just gonna call him really quick to let him know I’m fine and I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Do you want privacy?” he asks and you just laugh lightly.

“Not sure I need it,” you say and the phone is already ringing. Seungkwan answers nearly immediately.

“What the fuck? Are you okay?” he asks instead of saying hello.

“Chill, Kwan, I’m fine,” you answer.

“Where are you? Your class ended hours ago,” he says.

“Has it been hours?” you ask with some amount of surprise.

“Wait, where are you?” he asks again, sounding calm but skeptical now.

“I just…just don’t worry about me for the night, okay? I’ll be home tomorrow,” you say.

“Switch to video, you whore,” Seungkwan says skeptically.

“Don’t be a weirdo,” you retort.

“Come on! Turn on your camera!” he yells and you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Fucking fine,” you grumble and press the button on your phone before holding it back up to your face.

“I KNEW IT!” he shrieks gleefully. “Who’s shirt is that?”

“Oh, well, it’s…” you stall and look over at Jeonghan. He’s already moving toward you.

“Well?” Seungkwan prompts as Jeonghan leans over behind you so his face shows in the camera.

“It’s mine,” Jeonghan answers and Seungkwan looks like Christmas came early.

“Well, hello Jeonghan,” he says.

“I promise to take good care of her and send her back in one piece,” Jeonghan says and Seungkwan can’t contain his grin.

“Keep her as long as you like. I’m about to be so rich,” he says, far happier than he should be.

“Goodbye Seungkwan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say and hang up before he can say anything.

Once you hang up, Jeonghan gives you an odd look. Like he’s trying to figure out what Seungkwan just said.

“Do I…want to ask?” he finally asks.

You sigh. “Seungkwan started placing and taking bets about me sleeping with you as soon as I mentioned you.”

“And when was that?” he asks, seemingly not even surprised by the bets. You internally curse.

“After the very first class when you mentioned you joined because you like Legos,” you admit.

“We could have saved so much time,” he whines and you just shake your head.

“This is exactly how it was supposed to go,” you disagree.

“Maybe,” he concedes. “Should we get some sleep? We can figure everything else out in the light of day.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree and follow him to bed.

It’s far easier than it should be to settle into bed with him. Like you’ve done it a million times before. Maybe it’s okay to allow yourself to have the things you want. Maybe this can all be as easy as attaching one block to another until you have something amazing.

i hope you liked it! and like i said, i'll be back to fix any spelling/grammar errors after the weekend.

taglist: @newjihoonie, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @okiedokrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @jelly-n , @christinewithluv, @hipsdofangirl, @sana-is-ms-rmty, @lllucere, @vixensss, @soffiyuhh @aidanjoon, @hanniebub, @stormy1408, @lilifiedeans, @hyucksrealm, @joshuaslv, @tinkerbell460 (strikethrough means can't tag)

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luv-gukkie · 7 months ago

Text

★ little, naive thing ★

pairing: yandere! jeon jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: a small cuddle takes jungkook back down memory lane; a time where he could only admire your pretty-self from afar with a burning need to make you his, an idea your little boyfriend wasn’t so fond of.

word count: +4.8k

tags/warnings: cockwarming, boobie kisses, dom! jungkook, sub!reader, jungkook worships reader, he switches up real fast, size difference, smooches here and there, jungkook manhandles reader, he's possessive, degrading comments, public sex? (don't worry? no one catches them), jungkook gets into a fight, he hurts himself, manipulation, jk lies, talk about marriage ;), degrading comments, jungkook gets a tattoo of..., unprotected sex (don't be silly), reader was his first (for EVERYTHING), he's in love LOVE

notes: hope you enjoy it! i’ll try to post the small writing about yoongi soon :)

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

"no, no, no, no!" jungkook yells with a small smile as his hands covered his face, acting as if he was sad. you sing out a little chant, sticking your tongue out at him. he can't help but hide his laugh at your taunts and the small dance you do behind his hands. you're so cute, jungkook thinks as he stares at you through the gap between his fingers. the playback of your pink character, cat peach, flashes through the television screen as it shows her first through the finish line seconds before tanooki mario, jungkook's character, crosses through it as well. he groans in pain, "i was so close." he can't believe how good you've gotten at mario kart 8. it's unbelievable how fast you've learned. "wanna know my secret?" you whisper softly as if there were people around you; even though both of you are alone in your shared apartment, with the only witnesses being bam, the big and strong doberman, and cinnabon, your cute, tiny bunny. the pair lay together (similar to jungkook and you) on bam's huge bed, cuddled into each other, hiding behind their floppy ears. with the same mischievous tone, jungkook whispers back, "i have to know." you smile before leaning in closer to his ear and before he knows it, he's backing away, tricked and played. jungkook covers his ear, recovering from your surprise shriek. you giggle at his reaction before going in to leave kisses on his face all around. "sorry", you giggle as he "tries" to get away from you, but it's impossible because you two sit together squished on a bean bag.

as he sees you laugh, memories with you flash through his mind. it takes him back to the start of his love to you; all the way in high school.

jungkook has never been social to begin with. he's always been a little timid and shy compared to others, but it didn't meant he couldn't experience the same things others his age were experiencing. puberty had hit him hard. jungkook had grown too fast over the heat of summer. his voice was no longer of a teenage boy, but one of a grown man. the change into manhood had girls confessing their admiration to him left and right, but he's never been too interested in starting a relationship in the first place. it's not until he landed his eyes onto dainty, little you.

jungkook remembers it was the first day of sophomore year, the summer had tanned him a bit from being a life guard at the public pool and he had grown his muscles. jungkook's eyes wandered around the new classroom, recognizing everyone's faces, but stammering at an almost unrecognizable face. the reddish lipgloss you wear shines on your plump lips, a slight blush on your cheeks and your eyelashes have darkened with mascara. it's clear that he's not the only one who's changed over the summer. your hair is styled perfectly with a nice hairstyle that makes it even cuter. but it's the glimmer in your eyes that attract him the most especially with that faint, flirtatious smile you put on as you smile at the boy who holds your hand. the realization hits jungkook, why the fuck are you holding that boy's hands? that boy probably didn't even know you existed last year so why were you giving him such a lovely look? he thinks he's been staring too long when the guy turns around to glare at him and sticks his middle finger out when you turn around to talk to your friend.

shit.

it would've been a whatever to jungkook, but now, he keeps seeing you everywhere since he's noticed you. and it's not fair that your fucking boyfriend follows you everywhere you go, always in your shadow and never not. and it's like your boyfriend feels notices the glances he throws at you and sends him nasty glares whenever he gets the chance. jungkook fucking hates his ass. hates how he's gotten obsessive over you when he barely knows you; when you don't even know him. he doesn't like the feeling really, but he can't ignore it either so he does everything he can to get the little lovebirds to separate for his sake. eventually a small little rumor breaks things apart and he can't help the little smile that breaks free when the gossip he started reaches his ears. its times like this when jungkook is thankful to the loudmouths his classmates have. and it's like the heavens heard of his prayers when in no time, he had you in his grasp for life.

you don't even find out about jungkook being hurt until your lunch time. the whispers of jungkook's name are loud and seem true enough that you dash out when you hear a short version of the story. you're over the top worried for jungkook. your heart hurts, your eyes are blurring up and sweat is building up on your forehead as you get nearer to the nurse's office. when you find him sitting with a bandages across his arms and hand, fists bloodied and his nose still slightly dripping with blood. and even as the dark bruises are hurting him, red running down his nose and his arms onto the once white bandages, he runs to you with a call of your name and a helpless expression on his face. you let out a painful sob at his delicate form, "jungkookie, this is all my fault. i'm so sorry, you shouldn't be like this." jungkook doesn't deny your claims, tearing into your neck as his arms hug your waist in a tight embrace. you promise to take care of him and you do by spending every single second next to him, making sure he's not hurting. not noticing the sly smile he had on each time you turned around because of how his dumb little girlfriend didn't realize the blood on him wasn't his, but of your ex-boyfriend.

you ignore your ex. can't stand thinking about that stupid idiot, much less seeing him so you make a clear decision to avoid him or anything that has to do with him. sharing your decision with your friends so that they don't even speak of his existence. your blood boils at the fact that he dared to throw insults and then hurt jungkook, provoking you further. unbeknownst to you, your ex-boyfriend was stuck spending his time in the hospital. so it comes to your surprise when you do see him, his arm is in a cast along with his nose covered in white with bruises surrounding it. he's practically limping with each step he takes. when you two make eye contact, your eyes fidget to your phone to tried to avoid him. ignorance that's made harder when he decides to call after you. you're firm as you continue walking but turn around soon after, when you hear the crutches hitting the floor behind each step you take. he whispers about how you should leave jungkook; that there's something wrong with him. but the annoyed look you give him tells him you won't. "leave me alone," is the only thing you utter and before you know it, he's taking your hand as your about to leave and leaning in closer. "___, he's fucking crazy." the terrified look in his eyes is more than enough to scare you, but you're distracted when your eyes spot jungkook's pained ones.

you don’t hesitate to run after jungkook, leaving your ex behind in a hopeless state. you're not able to catch up, but following the sound of his footsteps is good enough to lead you to the back of the school. "jungkook?" you shout for him, wondering where he was. "why are you fucking talking to him?" his harsh tone has you in a ruined state in no time. jungkook has never talked to you in such a way, your mind tells you it's all your fault he's like this. you go to hug him, but all he does is move back and you notice that the tears in his eyes are gone.

jungkook doesn't like what he saw at all. all your words are nothing to him right now; all he feels is anger and jealousy in him. "talking to that piece of shit after he talked bad about you, after he fucking attacked me." he gulps before continuing with a lower tone, "baby, is there absolutely nothing in that pretty little head of yours? you let him hold your hand even after everything. you let him touch what doesn't belong to him." you're crying at this point, telling jungkook that it meant nothing and you only have eyes for him. it's in that moment a light bulb goes on in his head; he's got you right where he wants you. "prove it." his demand confuses you, a small "how?" leaves your lips. you follow his gaze before realizing what he wanted. "will you forgive me?" you question, the hope evident in your mellow tone. "of course, baby." you're about to get down on your knees before he stops you, "nuh uh, pretty," his fingers playing around with the necklace he gave you, "it's something else that i want. c'mon you got this, put two and two together." a mocking tone as he talks to you in a childlike manner. it's in that moment that you realize where both of you still are: school. you don't know how the information left your head, but you shake your head at jungkook. "we're still at school kook, anyone could see us and we could get in trouble." you speak softly, hoping he agrees with you. your palms feel sweaty at his request. it's like a switch-up when he stays quiet for a while, different to how he acted minutes ago but you don't notice. you watch as his bandaged hand tugs a couple of hairs behind your ear.

jungkook wipes his nose with the same bandaged fist that's covered in blood and his bangs slightly reveal the dark purple bruise on his forehead. "please." he begs with a soft voice and with his pretty eyes, you're convinced enough. you just can't deny him, especially after he fought for you; because of you. jungkook got hurt to protect you from that idiot you once called your boyfriend, and you can't help but blame yourself for it. jungkook ruined his reputation for a stupid fight. it's all your fault, so you let him get closer to you. you let him back you up into the hidden corner outside of the school. you wrap your small hands around his neck and let him kiss you. jungkook pushes you into him, his tongue is quick to explore your own. his saliva drips onto your lips and leaves it all messy. his fingers go to unbutton your white button shirt, undoing the blue collar. "you're so pretty, ___." he whines as he licks up your neck in a hurry and sucks it with need until pinkish skin is shown and teeth marks are left. it doesn't help him that the school uniform looks so good on you. the thigh high blue socks the schools requires only feeds on to his desires. and to top it off, you have to wear a blue (mini-looking) skirt with the basically transparent button shirt. and he can't forget the little decorations that you add on, which only fuels his fantasy to have you under him. a little red bow you add on to your hair and the jewelry you add on to your wrist and neck. especially the one that's wrapped around your neck, a sparkling j in the center.

a clear memory goes through jungkook when he raises the skirt he loves on you because it's not the first time he's gotten a peak at what you hide under that skirt; he's seen it multiple times, even before you two started going out but you don't have to know that. he knows he shouldn't have looked, but you wouldn't have minded. would you? either way, he couldn't help it. jungkook's eyes wandered when he was around you. he would ignore the arm that wrapped around your waist (the douche bag you called your boyfriend) and stare hard as fantasies played in his head. he loves the way your tits are so tight in that stupid shirt. he knows he's a pervert for gawking so hard at your ass when you walk pass him, or sometimes taking a peek at what hides underneath. but, he also wished that it was him that was hugging you and kissing you. it would be his dream come true. and maybe, it was just his luck when he saw your panties as you tripped on some rubbish on the ground. thinking that no one was around, you stayed on the ground for a while; whimpering in pain, knees scraped and legs apart, giving jungkook the perfect view of your covered pussy. you didn't wear shorts underneath your skirt, it's like you wanted him to see you in such an intimate way. he swore he felt drool falling out of the corners of his mouth at the sight. he couldn't stop staring (and definitely couldn't forget) at how your body was spread apart on the ground. jungkook doesn't remember how long he stood there before coming to help you, meanwhile trying to hide the hard-on that was growing in frustration. jungkook definitely had luck on his side that day, because soon after, both of you would start to hang out more. it was enough time to indulge your mind and heart.

when you both started dating, you both sat next to each other in almost all your classes. you let his hands play with the trim of your skirt and caress your upper thigh whenever he wanted. ignoring how each time his fingers inched closer to your panties. you were so nice to him. whenever you bent over the slightest, your skirt was basically hanging off your hips, revealing your cute little panties. and now he gets to see them all over again. "shit," he groans at the ache in his cock. you were so enticing with your white panties and the little bow right on the center that he'll never get tired of. but jungkook's too desperate, so he is quick to tug down the flimsy material. quickly choosing to hide it away in his pockets. breath stuttering at your bare, wet cunt. "___, you're so fucking pretty." his finger slides against your slit, immediately getting soaked. his thumb is quick to follow towards your clit, pinching and teasing it until he hears you start to whimper. he turns to you around to place a messy kiss on your lips, tongue dipping in to touch your own as he takes off his pants desperately. his cock is bulging and has left a mess in his boxers, but he pushes it down.

a sigh leaves his lips when his cock stands straight, hitting his abdomen. you don't even get a look before he turns you again and bends you against the brick wall. you feel your heart pound in your chest. "kookie, anyone could find us," you stutter out, a small glob escaping your gaping hole. 'cute', is all he thinks before pressing his hot cock head against your cunt. "shit baby, i have to bend my knees to reach you," he snickers out loud. he can't help the grin that escapes him out of the realization; you're so small compared to him. his shadow completely covers you under him, his hands are huge compared to yours and he can carry you like you're nothing. he's about to press in when you ask if he has a condom. it makes jungkook remember his trip to the pharmacy days before, staring at the pack of condoms he was going to take as he left the store. it brings back the sick pleasure he had then, the need to fuck you raw and full of him. he stands back to his full stature as he softly whispers an apology that he didn't have a single one. he feels slightly angered at the silence you give him, but you wouldn't know because you face the other way. "s' okay kookie i guess." he taunts you in his head, annoyed that you had him standing with a hard cock like an idiot just to ask him for stupid things.

it's already a painful feeling as he pumps his cock. the slit on his tip has precum dribble out. so in return he chooses not to bend down to your height. his hands grip harder onto your hips, the pressure causing you to fuss and arch your back in response. a shriek of his name and a desperate attempt to hold onto the wall distracts you as he lifts you up to the height of his hips by wrapping one arm around your stomach. his other hand directs his drooling cock head into your pussy. as he forces his dick in, your mouth widens as a silent moan escapes you. the tip of his cock is thick and hot. you can hear him pant heavily, calling you sweet names as he watches with heavy eyes as he keeps pushing in until his hips meet your own and the tip shoves right up against your womb.

you can feel tears in your eyes at the way his fat cock is nestled deep inside your cunt. the veins that run down him are perfect and his length excites you. jungkook curses silently as he sees his cock getting drenched off the globs of your slimy slick. he's speechless on how good your pussy feels, surprised he's not busting a nut so far. all he knows is that he'd get on his knees over and over to get just a look at your cunt. it doesn't help that you're practically hanging off his cock, back bending so beautifully to reach him, while your tits are begging to spill out your half-opened shirt. it makes him smug knowing that you could fall if he simply let go of your hips. your legs are dangling mid-air as he fucks you deep and slow for the couple first thrusts before completely switching into a different pace. he feels heavy inside your cunt. all you can think about is him, each time jungkook rams his cock head directly into your sweet spot.

your tiny mouth lets out the dirtiest sultry noises he's ever heard. you sob about how his cock is too big. "kookie," you wail as his cock easily pokes and pushes against your sweet spot and cervix at the same time. you feel the heat from his angry tip that oozes out more chunks of precum, reminding you that he isn't wearing a condom. but you're left dumb with your eyes rolled back when his fingers tease your bud in a hurried pace. jungkook feels your walls squeeze tight on him and it causes a throaty groan to leave his lips. "wet my cock, my pretty baby" he mutters. you shake as jungkook continues stretching your pussy hole out. and with an airless moan, you squirt your juices on his abdomen and the base of his cock. his eyes fill with curiosity at the wetness he feels leak all down his cock and thighs. "s-so perfect for me. little hole gonna be gaping when i leave it. gonna stuff you full of me, isn't that want you want? my little dumb girlfriend wants me to fill her with my cum." jungkook can't help but moan at how your pussy swallows him whole, accepting every inch of him in your hot walls even if he's bigger than you can handle. "gonna be my cock sleeve, perfect for it. wet, little cunt s' clenching around me like a bitch in heat."

he feels the heat crawl up to his face, and it doesn't help that the sweat on his forehead makes his hair stick to his face. he smells your perfume as it begins to stick on him and he fucking loves it. loves that he can grab a full fist of your hair and the only thing you'll do is cry out his name and wet his cock over and over as he goes faster. jungkook leans down to place sloppy kisses down your back, nearing your ear to whisper dirty words that have your cunt clenching tighter around him. the moans you let loose are loud and messy, forgetting your still in school. "people should see how good my baby takes cock, can't compare with no one else, right?" a question you don't answer, or can barely make out with how loud your ass smacks against him. "pussy so filthy and tight, ready to take my cock at anytime and anywhere." you're about to release all over again when jungkook stops to slowly pull back his hips. you whine in frustration, but soon forget when he drags his cock back into your cunt, making sure you feel each vein and curve.

the breathy whines you let out almost drown out the lewd squelches of the bottom of his shaft meeting your bare pussy. jungkook can't hold back the huff, "oh, fuck yes. cute cunt leaking just for me, sucking me right back in," his jaw clenches at how wet you are. each time he sank further, his pace began to pick up with an impatient desire to fuck you harder. "my good girlfriend, s' pretty when she's desperate for cock, my cock." he says mockingly.

"i'm gonna cum," you gasp out with each word. jungkook's fingers make their way to your lips, passing them to reach your tongue. "me too," is all he says before pulling out once more to turn you around and place you right back on his cock. "you look s' fucked out, baby," he whispers with a smug smile on his face, "pussy gonna be nice and stuffed with my cum, yeah?" he's quick to connect your lips together as you squirt from the overstimulation, hiding his desperate groans. you feel his cock spill warm loads of his cum inside you. small curses coming out of his mouth as he continues to runt against you, slobs of cum still leaking into you. you moan at the globs of cum slide down your inner thighs and onto the ground. his voice is soft when he talks to you and carefully holds you onto him. "you're so good to me; my good girlfriend, yeah?" he ignores the way you trace his dark bruises and brushes your hair out. he'll never let that stupid fuck get close to you again. it's not that he's scared of him, but rather of what nonsense he's gonna say. it's best if you don't know that jungkook started the fight, that he went home and hurt himself to make the bruises etched into his skin; smacking his head against the wall until he bled and couldn't think of anything but you and slammed one of his dad's metal tools against his hands to have you next to him, cause jungkook would really do anything for you.

"jungkook, what are you thinking about?" your voice breaks him out of train of thought, "about us." he responds without hesitation, because really, when is he not. his hands rub your waist, slowly taking you onto his lap. you smile at him and it's like he's in love all over again with you. and he hopes you feel the same as he takes his left hand into yours, "i want us to be together forever, ___." you watch the way his doe eyes show you all the love he has for you. you're lucky you've always had jungkook be this affectionate. he's always willing to take you out to a restaurant on late nights, picnics almost every week during the summer, and it's always refreshing to be with him. never once has he failed you, so you can't help the heart-warming feeling in you right now, watching a smile break through his face when you agree with him. "i've loved you from the very start, and i can't wait until we start a new chapter together," he pauses for a while, holding you tighter against his chest, "and you know that i've always wanted to put a ring on your finger, and if you're ready, i'll be more than happy to give you any ring you want." your lips find their way to his as you kiss him with everything you have, "i love you jungkook."

he doesn't even have a chance to respond before you're kissing him again, because you know that he does love you. it's in his eyes; his smile; in everything he does. you're shown love through every gesture he does, like the tattoo he surprised you with last week. big, pretty letters that are deeply inked into the skin of his chest for eternity. these pretty letters that make your name and are surrounded by the soft-feathered wings of beautiful angels. his tattooed hands dig into your hips, angling you on top of his hardened cock. his hand grabbing your jaw, squishing your cheeks and lips as you move your loose shorts to the side. with a harsh tug, jungkook's sweatpants end up at his knees. there's a big pearl of precum on his head, slightly leaking down his base. at the sight, you feel your cunt pulse. jungkook's hands massage your ass as he makes his way back up to unclip your bra. jungkook pumps his cock with your hands, cooing at how small they are. he pushes himself inside your swollen cunt, and it's hard to control himself when your tiny cunt violently clamps around his thick base, taking all of him in. you're moaning desperately into his ear distracting him from your painted nails leaving deep red marks on his abdomen. his lips wrap themselves around you tits, leaving trails of saliva behind before kissing the spots.

"faster, kookie," you cry out as you feel your orgasm at the pit of your stomach. your ass repeatedly meets his pelvis with a burning pain. you're begging for release when his thumb plays with your nub and his mouth is sucking your tits. "little hole dripping all around me, ain't that right baby," a shaky gasp he lets out while his cock makes you reach your high. tears roll down your cheeks at the overstimulation when he grinds himself into your sopping cunt. "gonna make a mess in this pussy," he groans before shoving his warm load deep inside your sore cunt. a little gasp escapes your mouth at how stuffed your tummy is.

just as your hands begin to slide off his shoulders, ready to fix yourself up, jungkook pulls you in close enough that your chest is touching his. you can't even speak when he begins to softly pound into your spent pussy which has you whimpering. there's a cocky grin on his face that you want to wipe off, but it's hard when your oversensitivity makes you weak. with a faint call of his name, jungkook finally halts his sensual motions with a replaced giddy smile, "i love having you in my arms."

as the minutes past, he takes note of your sleepy head dozing off into his neck. jungkook envelopes you into a cozy cuddle as he watches the blarring tv whilst his racing mind drags on with repeated memories of the past; haunting reminders that should never be brought up. he digs his head into your hair, fingers gently kneading into your scalp making his beating heart calm its pace. everything he's done was for you. the thing is jungkook can't limit himself when he's around you. it's a suffocating feeling that indulges every ounce of his body. it fills him with a need to protect you, and it makes him go mad in the head sometimes. it causes him to commit foolish acts of violence against those who he thinks have a role in your life. though, he's gotten better with the persistent idea of becoming a better man for you; a better future husband; a better future father. jungkook's lips turn up at the ends at the sleepy noises you make. "i love you."

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kooqitas · 5 months ago

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#pairing: yoongi X reader #synopsis: eating your pussy is like a amusement park for your boyfriend #wc: ~850 #notes: not proofread, english isn't my first language!

#tags: pwp(!), oral (f.) eating pussy, dom!yoongi, overstimulation, cumming in pants. | inspo by hc yoongi

★ m.list | inbox

you knew it was ruined when yoongi went between your legs.

you knew he would spend many minutes there, eating your pussy is like a amusement park for him, the best part of the sex.

he kissed you on the lips, over your panties, jesus, you are really ruined.

"i haven't even started yet and you are wet?" he provoked you.

“shut up, yoongi!”

“i will!”

he smiled to you, and in the next second his mouth back for your down lips, kissing soft the lace of your panties.

yoongi kissed you through your panties, rubbing his lips slowly against the fabric, making you feel every inch of his thin lips touching you. and he laughed when he saw how wet you were getting with that simple act.

“stop laughing!” you teased him. but yoongi didn't answer you.

he ran his index finger slowly across the wet panties, making your thighs tremble at the touchand then he lightly bit your panties, which made you moan, and then he pushed your panties to the side.

fuck, yoongi salivated when your pussy was exposed to him, you literally saw the drool running down his mouth, the way he looked fascinated at the mess he had made in just a few minutes over you, it was kind of embarrassing, but the the way he looked at you made up for all the embarrassment.

“i want you smearing me, leaving your smell all over my face, my tiny slut!”

he rubbed his nose on your wet hole, making you shiver from the different contact, but yoongi didn't take long to put his tongue in your pussy, doing what he did best: sucking you.

“fuck!” you moaned as soon as you felt him part your lips only to spit, making the saliva flow into your hole that was already calling for him.

yoongi was agile when his tongue entered you, sucking every inch of your pussy in a way that only he knew how to do.

yoongi lets out a quiet moan as you grab his hair, leaning down toward you gently and looking at you with a devil look in his eyes. "already? calm down, you know i’m going to spend the whole night here…”

yoongi's calmness is something that irritates you (a lot), he continues tasting you with the greatest calm in the world, while you start to lift your hips, trying for more contact.

“i need more, please” you begged.

yoongi leaves a light bite on your clit, which makes you close your legs around his head a little hard, of course it hurts, but he doesn't care, on the contrary, he loves your reaction.

for a few minutes he just sucks you, alternating between your clitoris, your wet hole, sometimes rubbing his nose, his chin, making you smear all over his face, leaving your smell there. his hips lifting more and more and your moans getting louder and louder until you finally came in his mouth.

you think it's finally going to end, but in the next second yoongi still has his tongue in you, seeming even more determined to continue his own service, putting you in a mental space you didn't even know you were capable of reaching.

it was too much, the overstimulation hitting you hard while he didn't let go of his mouth from your pussy, you knew he wouldn't stop (except with the use of your safe word), you and he knew you could take more.

"t-too much!" you moaned as you tried to release yoongi's strong hands from your thighs, but of course it was no use, he was much stronger than you and besides, he was determined to give you a second orgasm.

eating your pussy was yoongi's playground!

“no, baby, let me suck that pussy some more, hmm? i like this so much!” he said before going back to sucking your pussy voraciously.

you try to escape his arms again, not because you really want to, but your body reacts to the overstimulation on its own, and the way yoongi grabs your hips, forcing you to stay in place makes you cry with lust.

he spits twice on your pussy, before slapping it hard and going back to eating there, you close your legs again, but yoongi is a little violent in the way he opens them just to continue sucking you

you pull his hair and that just motivates him even more, if that was even possible.

you feel your body shake and the blurred vision makes you wonder if you're going to end up passing out, but in the next second you feel your body cumming again, and you scream yoongi's name so loud that you know all the neighbors will hear it.

you're a wreck, but as soon as yoongi finally lets you go and lies down next to you, you realize that his black underwear is completely wet, fuck, yoongi cummed in his pants while sucking you.

"can you sit on my face or is your leg still shaking?" your boyfriend asked once your breathing calms down.

ah, yeah, yoongi really has a tongue technology.

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joonsmagicshop · 8 months ago

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Professor Rapline

Summary: Mr. Kim is your English Literature and Poetry teacher and while he is known for being a strict teacher is he is also hot. So incredibly hot! So when he gives you an outlet for all your exam stress how can you possibly say no? Little do you realize it wont be just him you are getting pleasure from

Paring: Namjoon/Reader focused! Eventually Yoongi/Reader Hobi/Reader

Word Count: 15K

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: A/U, Professor/student relationship,slow burn, flirting, pet names, Joon calls her princess Yoongi calls her Kitten, Hobi calls her baby, dirty talk, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, cum licking, eating out, sex, so much sex, basically she gets fucked three times in one night, choking, face fucking, power dynamics, dry humping.

Authors Note: I was possessed by a horny demon when I wrote this. This idea has been stuck in my head for months and once I started writing I didn't want to stop. This is a work of fiction and I do not recommend fucking your professors.

No one warned you about Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jung Hoseok.

But then again, you doubted you would have believed them if they did.

It was the last semester before your time at University would be over for good, and honestly, you couldn’t wait. You were over the long nights studying, the assignments that had to be handed in on time or you would lose marks, and the group projects that were just as pointless as they were frustrating.

You had done everything you wanted to do, you went to the parties, kissed random strangers in bathrooms, and even hooked up with a few. You had a boyfriend for three months and decided it was better for you to be single and now you were ready to graduate and move on with your life.

Which found you sitting in the Academic Adviser’s office nervously shifting in your chair as you watched her go through your file. The office was painted a soft blue color and the heater was pumping out hot air on blast making the whole space dry and stuffy. As you wait, you unwound your scarf from your neck and placed it on your lap.

Her eyes met yours and she smiled softly at you.

“Well Miss Y/L/N it seems that you have a bright shining future that’s for sure. You have a wonderful file here and honors too, you must be proud.” She said beaming at you as you crossed your legs nervously and unzipped your coat.

You understood that it was the dead of winter outside but did it have to be so incredibly stuffy in here?

“Thank you. So I’m on track to graduate? Everything looks good?” You ask leaning forward in the chair.

“Well here’s the thing…” She trails off as she pushes her glasses back on her nose and scans the computer again.

Your heart drops.

“As I said bright and shining future for sure but you are missing just one credit. If you are unable to fit another class in this semester you would be unable to graduate.” She says with a frown as you see her eyes scan the computer to double check as your heart drops down to your boots.

There is no way.

You spent four years busting your butt, there was no way you were going to stay any longer than you had to.

“I can fit another class in! Which class do I need?” You ask in a panic as she clicks some more on the mouse and you watch her concentrate on the screen.

“Well, the good news is you just need one more elective class. The bad news is most of them are filled up…well. Except…” Her voice trails off again as you squirm in your seat, panic taking over.

“Whatever it is I’ll take it!” You respond eagerly.

“Miss Y/L/N it’s English literature and poetry with Mr. Kim.” She says in a serious tone as her eyes finally leave her monitor to look at you.

“Okay fine sign me up!” You say as you lean so far forward you are almost pushed right against her desk.

“Miss Y/L/N I understand you want to graduate on time but you must know. His class is notoriously known for being… quite difficult. I never want to slander a teacher but Mr Kim is very serious about his job and a lot of students come to me trying to drop his class.” She says staring at you with a serious look on her face.

You had no idea who Mr Kim was. The campus was so big you hardly knew where half the rooms were let alone half the teachers. But you had to graduate on time. You were not about to spend more money to have to go back to school for one elective course. There was just no way.

“That’s fine sign me up.” You say boldly as she frowns at you and types away on her computer. Well-manicured nails fly along the keyboard.

“Only if you are sure, you can always change your mind.” She says as you nod and she clicks something, you assume it’s to enroll you into his class.

"Okay, you are set. The class is on Wednesday nights at six pm. His classroom is 0994B which is in the basement.” She says as she pushes her glasses off her face to stare at you again.

“If you have any trouble at all please let me know.” She says as you nod and gather your things. You wrap your scarf around your neck and wave goodbye, leaving the stuffy office to head to the textbook shop to grab your book, having no idea what you just agreed to.

.........................

Two days later you found yourself searching the basement for the classroom you are looking for. While the University is beautiful with a rich history the basement is spooky and dark, especially in January when the nights are long and you rarely get sunlight.

Just as you approach the door you see a paper taped to it and you frown.

Basement heater is broken. Mr Kim’s class moved to 0294.

You let out a frustrated sigh and begin to ascend the stairs, hiking your messenger bag up on your shoulder as you climb.

The second floor is much nicer than the basement and you luckily find the new classroom with ease. You slip inside and take stock of the students. The lecture hall is large and set up like a theater with a podium at the front and the seats ascending upwards. You see most of the front rows are already taken with giggling girls.

You made your way to the back and plopped your things down in a seat slightly to the right of where the empty podium sat. You pulled out your phone to make sure it was on silent and as you took out your textbook and pens you couldn’t help but overhear the girls in front of you talking.

“That’s not a reason to take this class! I’m not carrying you though because you only signed up for this class because Mr. Kim is hot.” A blonde girl teased her friend as her friend shushed her and giggled.

“Come on that’s why people try and survive his class. He’s such a hardass but so nice to look at it makes up for it!” Her friend teased as both girls dissolved into giggles.

You wondered what the hell they were talking about. Mr Kim was hot? You had many English teachers throughout your years and they all were mostly the same type of person. Lanky, nerdy, either a tortured poet or a Shakespeare lover. You never pictured your teacher to be attractive at all and now thoughts of what he could look like clouded your mind.

But it didn’t take long for you to find out.

The second the door opened the entire class fell silent.

No one warned you about Mr. Kim.

But you’re sure if they did you wouldn’t believe them

Hell, you didn’t believe the girls who were sitting in front of you until you saw it with your own two eyes.

He was tall and handsome with blonde hair slicked back from his forehead and eyes narrowed as he looked through the crowd of students. When his eyes met yours you shivered but he didn’t linger as he made long strides towards the podium and set his brown briefcase down on the floor.

He took out a small laptop and set it up as you watched him in fascination. He was no doubt handsome and even though he had not spoken a word he had already commanded the class to be quiet.

It was quite impressive.

He took his time fiddling with the laptop as the class stayed deathly quiet. Once he got everything hooked up and the projector running he finally addressed the class.

“Hi I’m Mr Kim and I’ll be teaching you English lit and poetry.”

And then he smiled

When he smiled two beautiful dimples appeared on his cheeks and you knew you were undeniably screwed.

Not only was his class notorious for being difficult, but it also didn’t help he was drop-dead gorgeous.

Well, shit.

Your small crush on Mr. Kim lasted well in February. As the ground started to thaw and the days were very slowly becoming longer you spent most of your time buried in a book trying not to drown in your coursework.

While Mr. Kim was in fact the hottest man you had ever seen, the rumors were true and he was also a hardass about his subject.

By the second week, twelve people had dropped his class. He didn’t seem to mind or even acknowledge it, he just kept teaching.

By the time the first month was over twenty people had left and the class had once again been moved. This time to a small lecture hall on the same floor that was a lot more cozy and less intimidating than the original one.

You hardly noticed how many people dropped the class come March as midterm exams were approaching and you were too worried about your grades and future to worry about anyone else.

Your crush on Mr. Kim even took a backseat as you spent most of your time in the library, wistfully staring out the window at the sunny days wishing you were outside instead of in a stuffy old library going over poems written by people who had passed away ages ago.

In the last week of March, you got a break. Mr. Kim was teaching about Robert Frost and going over the poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay.” You were lucky enough to study that poem in high school so you sneakily took out your psychology homework and began to work on that, nodding and making occasional eye contact with Mr. Kim so he thought you were paying attention.

Lucky for you, you had finished most of the essay during Mr. Kim’s lecture. Unlucky for you class had ended five minutes ago and everyone had left the lecture hall, leaving you sitting there alone typing while Mr. Kim packed up his stuff.

You were so absorbed in your work you didn’t notice his hard gaze on you, how his eyebrow quirked when he saw how concentrated you were, and how he let out a low sigh as he made his way up the steps to approach you.

You did however notice when he was about two feet away from you and you gasped and slammed your laptop lid shut in alarm

“Miss Y/N.” He said smoothly as he took a seat in the aisle opposite yours and smiled softly at you.

You felt a blush appear on your cheeks as you hastily tried to come up with an excuse.

“Please Y/N tell me what you were working on. I know you aren’t typing that much about Robert Frost.” He teases as he stretches out his legs and you can see his slacks stretch under the pressure of his thick thighs.

“I-Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry. I…well I studied Robert Frost in high school and I have this big psychology essay that is due and I just wanted to get a head start on it.” You admit shyly as you shove your laptop in your messenger bag and gather your things.

You stand up to leave but a strong hand stops you.

“My class and Psych? I’m impressed.” He says as his hand leaves your arm but you can still feel the heat from where he touched you, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well, I… yeah I need Phych and I needed one more class to graduate so I picked yours.” You admitted as you stood there in front of him.

“And the Academic advisor let you do this? Take both?” He asks as he remains seated and gestures to the chair you vacated. Knowing he wasn’t going to kick you out of his class you graciously sat down, placing your bag on the floor.

“I…well I kind of didn’t give her a choice. I don’t want to come back for a year to take one course.” You admit.

He smiles at you, dimples present and you feel pleasure bloom in your chest.

“That’s very admirable of you. I’m sure she warned you about me and my class and you still decided to go for it? I like that.” He says.

You nod not sure of what to say.

“What do you want to be when you get out of here? What are your goals?” He asks you breaking the silence.

“I want to be a high school teacher. Educate the future generations.” You say shyly as his smile grows bigger.

You smile back at him.

“Ah. Very admirable. A girl after my own heart.” He teases and you feel yourself blush at his praise.

You both lapse into silence and you feel your heart hammer against your chest. He is staring at you softly and you slowly reach out to play with the hem of your skirt, hands desperate to do something so you don’t reach out for him.

“I’m sorry for keeping you late Sir. I should let you go.” You say as you gather your things and almost miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs when you call him sir.

You don’t waste any time and make your way down the stairs, leaving Mr. Kim still in the seat watching you go.

“Y/N?” He calls back for you as you stop and turn to face him. He looks so nonchalant sitting there, and so incredibly handsome you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid.

“I'll speak to Mr. Min about your caseload and see if he can ease off a bit. He can be kind of a hardass.” He says as he stands up and stretches and you can’t help but sneak a peak when his cream-colored sweater rises to show a flash of taunt skin.

Fuck.

“Oh, Mr. Kim you don’t have to it’s okay.” You say flushed at his generosity as he makes his way towards you to gather his things.

“It’s okay I have to talk to him about something anyway. I won’t mention your name I’ll just tell him to lay off a bit.” He assures you as you nod.

You wish him a good night and make your way out of the classroom. Your hands grip the straps of your messenger bag tightly as you hurry across campus to your car. By the time you get into your car, you are sure the flush on your face is gone, but the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering around like crazy.

April.

The dreaded month of April.

April was prep for exam season and you were once again buried in your books. Spring was finally here and when it wasn’t raining buckets you spent your time outside, spreading your books on the picnic tables as you got to work catching up on things you had to finish before exams.

After your essay for Mr. Min, his class did seem to get easier. You never asked Mr. Kim about it, instead, you pretended to be oblivious about the whole thing though you did have a feeling a conversation was had because you noticed Mr. Min staring at you more than usual as he taught.

Every free hour was spent studying or revising or writing essays so you hardly had time to think of that day with Mr. Kim. How gorgeous he looked sitting across from you, and how his cream-colored sweater fit his body perfectly and showed off his sculpted chest and broad shoulders.

You only let these thoughts run ramped late at night, when the stress of the day caught up to you and you wondered what would happen if he did lean in and kiss you. How soft his full lips would feel against yours. Would he be soft with you or would he be in control and command you just as he did that first day when he walked into the room?

Often times you would let your hand wander into your underwear and you would circle your clit. Imagining it was his strong deft fingers instead of your own. You would imagine him pinning you against the wooden podium and pulling down your pants to finger you.

How his huge body would cage you in and how he would whisper dirty things in your ear, his voice low and gruff as he would prep you to take his cock.

Most times you could cum around your fingers thinking of him. Wondering what it would be like to have someone as tall and handsome as Mr. Kim fucking you.

The weather was getting even warmer and your stress was at an all-time high. At this point, you lived off coffee and would often take it to class with you as you worked.

Mr. Kim was going over the structure of your final exam and as much as you tried you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open. You had slept a total of three hours last night and his late-night classes were getting to you.

You fought your body as much as you could. Trying to take notes, trying to focus but before you knew it your eyes were shut and you were snoozing softly on your textbook, face smushed cutely into the cover.

Unbeknown to you Mr. Kim had been keeping a close eye on you since your private conversation and he caught you sleeping the moment your head rested on the textbook. He bit back a smile as he continued to address the class.

You had slept for half an hour. You were awoken by a strong hand lightly shaking your arm and you looked up to see Mr. Kim staring down at you, his lips curved in a smile as you blushed with embarrassment.

“Oh my god Mr. Kim I’m so sorry I just- I don’t even know what to say this is so embarrassing and I missed most of what you said about the exam and oh my god I can’t believe I fell asleep in class what’s wrong with me!” You babbled on as you frantically shoved all your stuff in your bag and avoided eye contact with him.

You were sure he was beyond mad. A student falling asleep in his class is super disrespectful.

“Y/N deep breaths please, I don’t want you hyperventilating in my class.” He teases you with a smile as you freeze and turn to look at him.

“I am so sorry!” You cry out as you bury your face in your hands and stare at the floor.

“It’s okay really.” He says as his hands circle your wrist to pry your hands away from your red face.

His big hands engulf your wrists and you let out a shaky breath as your mind goes haywire at his soft touches.

He is staring at you with concern written all over his face and you look around, once again the classroom is empty except for the two of you.

“It’s not Mr. Min this time I swear! It’s just exams and revisions and I want to keep my honor roll so I have to work hard I haven’t been sleeping much because of all the work and I’m so so sorry!” You blurt out eyes shifting from his sharp eyes to his plush lips that are still drawn up into a smile.

He catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow

You were really in trouble now.

“Y/N you have big dreams and it’s amazing how much you are taking on. Honestly when you told me your plan and the courses you are taking I was and am very impressed. You should be proud of yourself.” He says lowly. You glance down to see his hands are still holding your wrists steady and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat pounding against your skin.

“Thank you.” You whisper out hearing your voice echo in the empty room.

“Being an almost University graduate can be stressful and challenging.” He starts as his thumb caresses your wrist and up into your palm.

You can’t help it, you bite your lip in anticipation as his fingers work your skin soothing you but also making your heart beat faster.

“It really is. I just want to graduate and be done.” You admit shyly as his sharp eyes are locked on yours.

“I totally understand that. I remember those days. I lived off coffee and ramen.” He admits standing up from his crouch to sit on the chair right next to yours, his thick thighs bumping against your knee as he lets go of your hands to get situated.

“Mind you I wasn’t trusted in the kitchen so my roommates did most of the ramen cooking.” He teases as you giggle.

He runs a hand through his hair and pushes it back from his forehead. The tension in the room is thick and you can’t stop staring at his lips, your mind flashing to two nights ago when you came around your fingers moaning his name.

He clasps his fingers together on the table and your eyes dart down to them. He grins when he catches you staring and you blush further.

“I guess what I want to say is it’s important to study hard but also important to take breaks when you need to. Stress can do major damage to the body.” Mr. Kim advises as you nod wordlessly at him.

“What do you do for fun? That’s not schoolwork? Do you have an outlet of some kind?” He asks softly.

You were sure it was wildly inappropriate to tell him that you orgasm to relieve stress so instead you tell him a little about yourself and your life.

How your parents live a ten-minute drive from the University so you never felt the need to stay on campus. How you like to take your dog on walks when the weather is nice and how he wears a little raincoat on days when it drizzles. You tell him about your friends and how you try to get together for movie nights but you all are so swamped with school you haven’t had time.

He listens intently and soon enough you realize you are blabbing so you shut up much to his dismay.

“You sound like you have good hobbies though maybe a balancing problem. You need to work hard but also play hard too. This is University after all that’s why people party so much to get rid of all the stress from teachers like me.” He says with a laugh as you laugh along beside him.

You explain how you did go to the parties in your first year but grew out of them and he nods along in understanding.

“I get that. And with being so close to the end I get you want to rush through and graduate to get it over with but you have to find outlets to relieve all the stress. Once you get into the workforce you’ll still have this stress and even though I’ll let it slide you fell asleep in my class the workforce won’t be so gracious.”

You nod along at his words as he adjusts himself in the seat, his knee bumping yours and sending your heart racing once more.

“I am truly sorry Mr. Kim I have never fallen asleep in a class before in my life.” You admit to him, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Ah, so I must have been boring you.” He jests which has you protesting right away.

“No not at all! I would never think that of you!”

He smiles at your words and you push your knee into his as silent reassurance.

His eyes dart down to your lips and back up again and you smirk at him.

“So what you need to do is find an outlet for all that stress and built-up frustration. Some people choose to drink, but I think you might be over that, some people choose to lift weights or run. But there are…other options you know.” He says letting his voice dip dangerously low and you stare at him in shock when he winks at you.

Is he suggesting what you think he is suggesting?

Because if he is?

How the hell do you even say no to that?!

“I-uh. I’m not sure what you mean….sir.” You say putting on your best sultry voice and watching as a slow smirk appears on his face.

So he does mean what you think he means.

Well….wow.

“You know a lot of people have….experiences in University. Great time to get to know yourself and what you want…and like.” He hints as you push your knee boldly into his and his smirk grows wider.

The tension in the room is palatable at this point and you can almost feel the want radiating off both of your bodies.

You don’t want this flirting to end so you tease him some more, seeing how far you can take it.

“Oh, I already went through all that. Too bad University boys half the time don’t know what they are doing. Such a shame I have to do it myself.”

His eyes widen and his tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. You wink back at him and feel him once again push his knee into yours with more force.

Your body is on fire when you lean in closer to him, letting his cologne cloud your senses.

“What a pity.” He almost growls out as you look up at him fluttering your eyelashes.

Boldly he unclasps his hands and places one on your knee, the same knee that is currently pressing into his under the table.

You let out a small gasp when his hand sneaks into the inside of your knee and his thumb caresses your other leg.

You wish with all your heart that today of all days you had chosen to wear a skirt instead of jeans but your skin is on fire as he traced fine lines into your jeans, eyes not leaving yours.

Neither of you speak as his hand climbs higher. The rational part of your brain is screaming for you to stop this because he is your professor, your teacher, your senior, but the horny part of your brain is begging his fingers to climb higher where he would for sure find you soaked for him.

Before you can do or say anything he squeezes your thigh and you let out a squeal of shock when his hand leaves you, before you know it he is standing up and making his way down the stairs back to the podium seemingly unbothered and unaffected by the whole thing.

You realize this is him dismissing you so you grab your things and make your way down the stairs. Trying to hide how aroused you are and how badly your pussy is aching for his touch.

When you make it to the podium, messenger bag slung over your shoulder he looks up at you and reaches out to hand you a little white card.

You see it's blank on one side but when you turn it over you see an address scrawled on the back.

His address?

“Pity University boys don’t know how to please a woman. As I said you need an outlet for all that stress. Friday night come to this address. Seven pm.”

Your eyes widen in shock

He was inviting you to his house?

“I- I don’t know what to say.” You admit still holding the card in your outstretched hand and as you stare him down.

“Show up or don’t your choice ultimately.” He says closing his laptop and packing up his things for the night.

“What if someone finds out? Or sees this card?” You ask him with a tilt of your head.

He chuckles softly.

“No one ever has before. I’m not too worried. But if you are… don’t show up. Shred the card.” He offers as he shoves stuff in his briefcase not bothering to look at you.

“You’ve done this before?” You ask hating how your voice sounds so scandalized. As if you weren’t egging him on the entire time.

“I think you know the answer to that Miss Y/N.” He says with a cock of his eyebrow as he places his briefcase down and finally locks eyes with you.

“I see the way you look at me. They all have the same look. The want. The desire. I’m just here to get a paycheck and maybe have some fun. Though I will forwarn you if you do show up you will be punished for sleeping in my class.” He adds with a smirk as you gasp.

“Balls in your court Y/N. And if you do tell anyone well you still have your final exam to write.” He says boldly.

Your mouth drops in shock.

“You're going to fail me if I don’t show up? Are you insane?” You cry out as he smiles down at you.

“If you don’t say a word regardless of whether you show up or not I won’t have to fail you. If it does get out, whether you show up or not…well.” He shrugs as an answer and you gasp at him.

You shouldn’t find this hot.

You really shouldn’t.

“Fine.” You bite back and his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Have a good night Miss Y/N,” he says gesturing at the door.

Friday you tell your parents you are going to a study group. You have no idea how long this will take or what will even happen so you tell them to not wait up.

The drive is about twenty minutes from your house and you are shaking in anticipation the entire way.

Of course, you didn’t tell a single soul. You knew Mr. Kim was true to his word and you didn’t want to put your grades in the balance so you kept the note hidden in your wallet and double triple checked it before you drove over.

The sun was just starting to set casting everything in a beautiful glow as your hands tapped on the steering wheel and you turned down a side street.

The weather was warm today so you opted for a pale blue sundress with small yellow flowers on it. You dug out your best bra and underwear and tied your hair up to keep it from your face.

Your tote was on the seat next to you filled with textbooks you would never open as you finally made your way to the address and the big house.

It was a two-story white house with white shutters and a long driveway with three separate cars parked. You decided to park on the road and you pulled out the card to double-check again as the door opened and you saw Mr. Kim standing there staring at you.

You never told him you were coming but you guess he was ready anyway because when you grabbed your things and closed the car door he was smiling at you.

He looked so different than how he did in the classroom but still drop-dead gorgeous. His blonde hair was pushed back from his face in his signature style, he was wearing a black tight shirt and grey tight sweatpants that had your mouth watering.

He looked so good.

It really wasn’t fair.

“Hi.” You said softly as you made your way to the door.

He smiled at you and quickly ushed your inside as you took in your surroundings.

The living room was a good size with a big couch and a TV. Of to the side, there was a galley kitchen and you smiled when you remembered he said he was a terrible cook. You saw a staircase off the kitchen and a small bathroom off the living room.

“Mr. Kim thank you for this.” You start but he shushes you with a finger pressed to your lips.

“Please. I’m Namjoon. We don’t need the professional titles here.” He says as you kick off your shoes timidly and he puts a hand on the small of your back to bring you over to the couch.

“Namjoon.” You say his name as he smiles down at you when you both sit.

“Exactly. Or you can call me sir if you're into that.” He teases with a smirk as you blush.

“I think you are the one who would like that…sir… I saw the way you reacted when I called you that.” You tease back suddenly feeling bold as you drop your bag on the hardwood floor.

“You little tease. And getting all dolled up just for me, You shouldn’t have.” He mutters as his fingers come to play with the small straps holding the dress up.

“Yeah, you like it?” You smirk, standing up and swishing your dress around, giving him a full view of your legs.

His hands grab your hips and he pulls you down on his lap as you straddle him staring at him with lust-blown eyes.

“You absolute tease.” He grumbles as his hands come to play with the straps once more, taking his time to pull them slowly down your shoulders and letting them hang.

“What do you want?” He asks staring up at you not daring to make another move until you answer his question.

“You.”

Without warning he leans forward and captures your lips in a searing kiss. You put your hands on his shoulders for support as you kiss him back.

His lips are just as soft as you imagined and you take your time with him, letting him control the kiss as he pushes his body into yours.

You feel his half-hard cock in his sweatpants and when you grind down on it a small moan leaves his mouth.

His hands run up and down your thighs and finally settle on your waist as he kisses you harder pushing his lips into yours and nibbling on your lower lip.

You moan at the feeling and his tongue darts in your mouth to rub against your tongue.

You rake your hands through his soft hair and grab the hair at the nape of his neck as you push your body into his, letting your breasts press into his chest and making more moans fall from his mouth.

This was hands down the hottest makeout session you have had and you start to feel yourself grind against him as pleasure courses through your body.

He pulls away and grins lazily up at you as you continue to rock your core against his now fully hard cock.

“Bend over my lap I promised I’d punish you, princess.” He says as you stare down at him and continue your grind on his cock, the sensation too good to stop.

“What if I don’t want to be punished?” You tease him as he rolls his eyes at you.

His hands grab your shoulders as he pushes you down on the couch and in a flash he has your dress hiked up so your ass is on display.

You moan out when you feel his strong hands massage your bare skin.

“Lacy underwear for me? You shouldn’t have,” He jokes as his hand comes down to smack your ass.

The sting causes you to close your eyes and you moan against the cushion when he continues to spank you, ranging from hard spanks to soft little taps.

Your pussy is throbbing at this point and you are almost humping the couch with how aroused you are. Namjoon isn’t letting up though and after ten spanks he is kneading the sensitive skin and praising you.

“Mr. Kim please!”You cry out.

“What did you call me?” He asks, delivering a sharp smack to your left and right buttcheek causing you to push your face into the cushion harder and moan out.

“Namjoon! Namjoon please!” You cry as he lifts you up and once again positions you on his lap. You can feel the hard ridge of his cock and you grind down on it some more.

“What do you want princess?” He asks massaging the skin he spanked raw as you bury your face in his shoulder, turned on beyond belief.

“You. I want you.” You beg out as he smirks and you lift your head.

You don’t waste time grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. You gasp when you are met with toned tan skin, broad shoulders, and a muscular chest.

“God Namjoon your body.” You whimper as you lean down to pepper kisses along his collarbones and chest, arching your back so you can reach more skin and have your core press harder into his cock.

“I could say the same about you.” He says lowly as he pulls the straps of your dress down to free your bra to his hungry eyes.

He quickly gets your bra off and his large hands come to cup your breasts. You throw your head back and moan as his thumbs flick over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure to your already-soaked core.

“God princess I can feel how needy you are, you're soaking my pants.” He says as you look down to see a stain forming on his crotch.

“That’s so fucking hot.” He admits as his hands continue to work your nipples and you continue to grind against his cock chasing your high.

“Princess you're so fucking wet for me I bet I could just slide in huh?” He says as his hands leave your breasts to run down the expanse of your stomach to the hem of your underwear

“Please. Joon. Fuck. Please.” You beg as his hand slips inside and your eyes roll back when he gathers your wetness and begins to circle your clit agonizingly slow.

“Use your words, princess.” He teases as he continues his slow torture on your clit. You throw your head back and grip his strong shoulders for support as you grind against his skilled hand.

“Want you to fuck me. Please, sir. Please.” You whine as he removes his hand and you watch as he licks his fingers clean, sharp eyes never leaving yours.

Your pussy pulses with want and a broken moan leaves your mouth.

“Gotta prep you, princess. Not to brag but I’ve been told I have a big cock. Don’t wanna break my girl before exams.” He teases as he taps your butt so you lift yourself and kneel on the couch giving him full access to your pussy as he pulls your underwear down and completely off leaving you in just your dress with nothing underneath.

He smiles up at you as his finger dips back into your underwear and he circles your clit again. You moan out and grip his shoulders when he inserts a finger inside of you.

You were right when you told him University boys didn’t know what they were doing

You had never experienced something like his before

And it never felt so good being right.

He took his time opening you up on his fingers. Adding another one and scissoring them, making beautiful whines and moans fall from your lips. You already felt close to the edge and when he curled his fingers upwards and thrusted deeper you let go.

Your body arched forward and you cried out his name as you orgasmed around his fingers. He chuckled darkly against your skin as you rode out your high. Feeling yourself pulse around his digits as he worked you through it.

Once you came down you straddled his lap once again and pressed your face into his chest letting your breathing even out as he stroked your hair and praised you for being so good for him.

“Please Namjoon.” You whined out as you pushed yourself up so you were face to face with him.

“Tell me, Princess. Tell your Professor what you want.” He says as you scoot back and stroke his cock through his sweatpants.

“Want you to fuck me Joon.” You beg as he wraps one hand around you to lift you and the other hand tugs at his sweats pulling them down so his hard cock is flush against his stomach.

He was right, his cock was big.

Thick and veiny, the tip was bright red and leaking precum down the shaft. You carefully wrapped a hand around his cock and began to slowly jerk him off, wanting to give him the pleasure he gave you.

“Princess you are too good at that.” He whines out when you twist your wrist at the top making his cock leak more precum.

“Princess you gotta stop I gotta get a condom.” He says as you stop your movements and giggle when he reaches for his wallet you didn’t even notice was on the coffee table and retrieves a condom from it.

Your pussy throbs in anticipation and right as he is about to roll the condom on the door bursts open.

Standing there is Mr. Min your psych teacher and you scream and bury your face in Namjoons shoulder as he looks unbothered by the whole thing.

“Jesus Joon on the couch?! Really? Thought we said bedrooms only!” Another voice says and you look up in time to see another male standing in the doorway. He is beautiful with slightly wavy brown hair and wide eyes, his features are soft giving him a look of unearthly beauty.

“Sorry, it just kind of happened,” Namjoon admits as you are still frozen in shock at the fact your other teacher is here watching the whole thing and seeming so chill about it.

“Mr. Min I’m so- I- shit I don’t know what to say.” You stammer as Mr. Min’s eyes lock on Namjoon’s in a harsh stare.

“You didn’t even tell her Joon? Jesus, do we have to do everything?” He asks as he comes around the couch and you push yourself closer to Namjoon in worry of what will happen.

“Listen Kitten. Come to my room when he’s done fucking you yeah? Up the stairs last door on the right.” He says pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your back as he walks away from the couch and smacks Namjoon on the back of his head.

“No more fucking on the couch or you’re going to pay the cleaning bill.” He says as he makes his way up the stairs.

Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you are frozen in absolute shock

What the fuck is going on?

“Why do you get her first?” The other man complains as Namjoon pushes his head into your shoulder and whines in embarrassment.

“Because I’m her teacher too. She has no idea who the fuck you are!” Mr. Min calls from the top of the stairs in a teasing tone.

The other man comes around the couch and grabs your hand to shake it with a big smile on his face.

“I’m Mr. Jung but you can call me Hobi. We’ve never met but I’m the performing arts teacher. Once these two buffoons are done with you come to my room. I’m the last door on the left.” He sends you a sultry wink and before you know it he is heading up the stairs as well and you are frozen in shock.

“What the fuck.” You whisper as Namjoon is groaning into your shoulder and you look down to see his cock softening between your bodies.

“I… Shit, they are right I should have explained things before we started.” He admits as he pushes his head back to stare at you.

“I’m so confused.” You admit still in shock.

“Yoongi, Um I guess he’s Mr. Min to you, Hobi, and I were roommates at University. After we graduated we couldn’t afford housing alone so we decided to rent a big house and live together. We all work at the same place so it just made sense. Anyway, we found that there are…students who take an interest in us beyond academics and figured why the hell not? We are young and if we want them and they want us and it’s consensual…” His voice trailed off and you nodded.

“Anyway, sometimes we share our students and sometimes we keep them to ourselves. When I talked to Yoongi about how he was stressing out my students he admitted he had an eye for you, but so did I. So we agreed to share as long as I got you first. Hobi is…well he’s Hobi he’s not picky and usually is down for anything. You don’t have to do anything with them if you don’t want to. You can let me fuck you and walk out this door. It won’t affect your grade with Yoongi at all. I should have told you sooner, as soon as you got here but you in that dress…good god I had to get my hands on you.” He says running his hands up and down your hips as you whine and grind against him.

“Again you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You can walk out the door right now, write your exams, and never see any of us again. Your choice princess.” He says.

You shake your head at him and slide off his lap.

You see his face fall.

And quickly turn to shock when you lower yourself down to the floor and engulf his soft cock in your warm mouth.

Namjoon grunts and grabs your hair that has started to fall out of your ponytail to keep it away from your face as you suck him down, loving the feeling of his cock starting to harder in your mouth.

You suck and bob your head as your tongue dances over the sensitive flesh.

“Fuck! Is that a yes then?” Namjoon pants above you as his hands tighten in your hair and force you to look up at him.

“Have sex with the three hottest teachers on campus? I’d be stupid to say no to that.” You tease as you jerk off his quickly hardening cock and get off your knees to get back on his lap and kiss him.

His hands tangle in your hair as he frees it from your ponytail and you kiss him wildly. Your tongues and teeth clash as you feel his now fully hard cock press into your abdomen.

“Fuck me Joon. Please.” You cry out as his hand comes down to spank your ass once more.

“Are you just saying that ‘cause you wanna rush to Yoongi?” He teases as he finally rolls the condom on his cock.

“Nah you made me wait a whole semester. If I wait any longer I’m gonna explode.” You admit as he positions his cock at your entrance and teases your folds with the tip.

“Well, I won’t make my princess wait any longer then.” He says as he inches his cock inside of you.

The sting is immediate and you bury your face in his shoulder as he pushes himself in inch by inch until he is fully sheathed inside of you, his large hands coming up to hold your hips steady and give you time to adjust to his length.

“God I made you cum and your still tight.” He grits out as it’s taking everything in him not to immediately thrust inside of you.

You take your time and slowly move your hips back and forth. His hands grip your sides harshly and he hisses every time you move.

You know he is being a gentleman and waiting for you to adjust and it makes you smile.

“Joon. Move.” You plea as he begins to thrust into you shallowly letting your body get used to the feeling of being stuffed with cock.

You let out a moan when he starts to pick up speed. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you use your legs to fuck yourself on his cock as he picks up the pace and is fucking you rather harshly.

The noise is obscene and you wonder if the other men can hear how Namjoon is fucking you. It makes your pussy clench and Namjoon lets out a hiss as he tilts his hips and pushes his cock deeper inside of you to hit your g spot.

You are moaning above him, hands holding onto his for dear life and feeling the coil of pleasure get tighter and tighter.

He must understand because one hand leaves your hip to come and circle your clit and a high whine leaves your mouth as you feel yourself get closer to the edge.

Namjoon once again picks up the pace and fucks into you harder and you capture his lips in a kiss and before you can warn him you are flying off the edge and cumming hard around his cock.

You whine against his mouth as you ride out your second high of the night and Namjoon fucks you through it. His hand leaves your clit and he continues to pound into you bringing you to the brink of overstimulation before he groans into your neck and cums hard into the condom.

You cry out when you feel his cock twitch deep inside of you and his thrusts become erratic as he works himself through his own high.

You slump your body against his and let your breathing settle as he does the same.

His hands still have a vice-like grip on your hips and when he finally releases them you look down to see they are slightly red.

You grin.

“That was wow.” He says pushing his sweaty hair back from his face as you grin at him feeling euphoric.

“I agree.” You say with a smile as you climb off his lap and try to stand, only to have your legs shake and your body nearly tumbles into the couch.

Namjoon steadies you and takes the condom off his softening cock and ties it up throwing it in a garbage nearby.

You pull the straps of your dress up and search for your bra and underwear but Namjoon stops you.

“Don’t bother, save the others the trouble of taking it off again.” He says which has you gasping.

“Remember you always have a choice. You can walk out the door now or go to Yoongi.” He says as you lean against the couch and smooth everything down trying to at least look presentable.

“You know my answer Joon,” you say as you raise your eyebrows at him.

He stands up and pulls up his underwear and sweatpants. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal in delight as he carries you up the stairs and to the last door on the right. He kicks it open with his foot and you find Yoongi hunched in a desk chair working on something on a laptop. His hair is messy under big headphones and he looks up with a slow smirk when Namjoon deposits you on his bed.

“Special delivery. No bra or underwear just a skimpy sundress. You’re welcome.” He teases as he winks at you and closes the door.

Now you are left alone with Yoongi having no idea what to expect.

“Did Namjoon fill you in?” He asks taking off his headphones and saving whatever he was working on.

“Yeah, he did.” You say suddenly breathless at the prospect of getting fucked…again.

“And did he take good care of you? Namjoon is the youngest of the three of us. Gotta make sure we trained him well.” Yoongi says as he rolls his chair over to sit at the foot of the bed, eyes roving over your disheveled appearance.

“Yes Sir.” You say watching Yoongi smirk at you as his hands trace small circles on your legs.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as his fingers take their time with your bare skin.

“Good. A little sore. Namjoon spanked me. But overall good.” You admit as your eyes are glued to his long fingers which are climbing slightly higher with each stroke.

“Why did he spank you kitten? Were you bad?” He mutters lowly as his hands come to your knees to part your legs.

You sit up for him and scoot your butt to the very edge of the bed and let your legs fall open. You hike your dress around your hips and give him a full view.

Yoongi’s eyes darken.

“I have this teacher called Mr. Min. He gave me so much homework I stayed up all night completing it and hardly slept. I fell asleep in Joon’s class so he had to punish me.” You tease as you watch Yoongi’s hands trail higher and higher on your skin.

His cheeks are flushed and his brown hair is falling into his eyes as he watches his hands caress your skin.

“Ah well if it were me I’d do the same thing. Naughty girls get punished.” He says giving your upper thighs a soft smack as you whine.

You start to pout but just as you stick your bottom lip out, he leans forward to kiss you.

You plant your hands on his jean-clad thighs as you lean forward to kiss him back. His lips are soft as he presses them to yours. You flutter your eyes closed and focus on the sensation of his good his lips feel against yours.

You feel your core throb with arousal and you push your lips harder into his, loving the way he grunts against you and tangles his hands in your hair.

You spend awhile just kissing and testing the waters and soon enough Yoongi pulls away and his eyes are dark, clouded with lust and you can see an obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock?” You ask as you stand up and stare at him.

“Namjoon didn’t let you suck him off?” Yoongi asks as he stands up and takes your spot on the bed. He throws you a pillow to kneel on and you take your spot between his legs palming at his bulge eagerly.

“I mean he did but hardly. Think he was too excited to fuck me.” You admit as Yoongi lets out a quiet laugh and your hands come to pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. His eyes widen when you see his cock straining against his dark boxers.

“I don’t blame him,” Yoongi mumbles as he pushes his hair back from his face to look down at you kneeling on the floor between his legs.

A sight he wants to commit to memory.

You slowly pull his jeans down and he helps you kick them off. You take in the sight of him, already looking fucked out and you hardly touched him.

“What were you working on when Joon dropped me off?” You ask as you bring your hand up to palm at his erection.

“M-Music. I make music on the side.” He admits as you push your palm into his cock and soak in the moans that are falling from his lips.

“Hard ass Mr. Min makes music on the side? That’s cool.” You tease as his eyes snap open and he stares you down dangerously.

“What did you call me?” He asks in a low voice as you hook your hands into his boxers and he lifts his hips to assist you with pulling them off.

“A hardass? Come on you knew that already.” You tease letting your hands run up and down his hard shaft, smearing the pre-cum all over it as his eyes threaten to flutter closed again.

Before he can reply you lean forward and wrap your lips around his cockhead causing him to moan and lace his fingers tightly through your hair.

You take your time sucking him, loving the feeling of your tongue lapping up his precum and loving even more that you are making big bad intimidating Min Yoongi fall apart.

You slowly take him in deeper and smirk when he grips your hair harder and bucks his cock into your mouth.

You bring your hand up to work in tandem with your mouth and you hollow out your cheeks and continue to suck him.

He throws his head back and whines as you take him deeper. By the time you get his cock down and your nose is brushing against his neatly trimmed pubes, Yoongi has his hands laced through your hair and is grunting above you.

He tastes salty on your tongue and your eyes water when your gag reflex kicks in but you do everything you can to relax your throat and swallow around him.

Rough hands tug at your hair as he pries you off his cock and you look up at him with tearful eyes, as a string of spit is still connected from your mouth to his very red cockhead which is slowly leaking more precum.

“Kitten you are far too good at that.” He complements as you smile up at him and he leans forward to grab your arms to help you up.

You stand on shaky knees as Yoongi grabs you and pushes you down on the bed. You let out a squeal of delight as he flips you onto your back. He hikes up your sundress and lets it pool around your midsection as he eyes your still-soaked core.

“You’re still all puffy for me Kitten.” He comments as one finger comes to trace at your clit and you whine and buck your hips into his hand.

“Mmm Yoongi.” You moan letting your eyes close as he teases your clit with the tip of his finger, his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration and his tongue darts out to lick at the corner of his mouth.

“What do you want kitten"?” He asks plunging a finger inside of you making your body arch off the bed and your hands come to grip the sheets below.

“You. I want you Yoongi. Real bad.” You cry out as he adds another finger without warning and begins to take his time opening you up.

“You already got fucked by one man now you want another so soon. You're such a greedy kitten.” He purrs reaching up to kiss and suck at your neck.

You tangle your hands in his hair and let the sensation of his soft lips on your heated skin take over.

He takes his time plunging his fingers inside of you and stretching you out. You felt like you didn’t need stretching out after Namjoon’s cock but you weren’t about to say anything as Yoongi’s fingers felt like magic.

“Wanna come around my fingers?” He asks as his lips are still sucking at your neck and you are grinding your butt down to meet his thrusts, fucking yourself on his long fingers.

“Would rather cum on your cock.” You admit as his head snaps up and his eyes meet yours. His eyes are dark and lustful and when he pulls his fingers out he licks at them taking his time cleaning them and leaving you whining out on the bed.

“Kitten doesn’t know how to use her words.” Yoongi teases as he sees your frustration but still takes his sweet time.

You frown at him.

“Kitten did use her words you just chose to ignore them.” You fire back which causes Yoongi to pounce on you, resting his whole body weight on yours as you feel his cock press against your center.

“Did you just talk back to me?” He growls as he grabs the base of his cock and runs it through your folds.

“Sorry, Sir. Guess I’m just impatient. You like to take your sweet time.” You answer back not bothering to hide your attitude as Yoongi’s hand wraps around your throat.

Your eyes bulge when he squeezes it and you let out a choked moan when he stares you down with an intensity that has your core throbbing.

His hand tightens on your neck, pressing into your pulse which has it racing against his fingertips. You flutter your eyes closed but with his free hand, he lightly slaps your cheek.

“Look at me when I speak to you. Naughty Kitten comes into the lion’s den to get fucked by three different men. Now she thinks she can sass back to a man who holds her future in his hands. I could fail you right now if I want to. I could squeeze your throat until you passed out. I could throw you up against a wall and fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for a week. “

Your eyes roll in the back of your head at his words.

“Now are you going to behave or am I going to add to the spankings you already received? Hmm? Gonna drop that attitude yet or still think your hot shit around here.” He growls out as his fingers start to ease on your throat and you expand your lungs taking in as much air as you can.

“Sorry, Sir. I’ll behave.” You say softly as Yoongi smiles down at you and presses soft sweet kisses to your neck, soothing the area he just had his hand wrapped around.

He slowly gets off the bed and reaches over to the nightstand where he pulls out a foil packet. He opens it and rolls it down his hard cock, jerking himself off as he goes.

You watch him work his cock with nimble fingers and soon enough he is on top of you again positioning his cock at your entrance.

“Let me know if it’s too much.” He says softly as he slips his cockhead inside and begins to inch in slowly.

You can’t help but whine when he finally gets all the way in. His hips are flush against yours and you both breathe heavily at the sensation.

He stares down at you with hair falling into his eyes and slowly presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow and sweet and the complete opposite of how he choked you earlier. You tangle your hands into his hair and give your body time to adjust.

This time it doesn’t take your body long to adjust and you start to wiggle your hips to give him the signal to move.

“You good Kitten?” He asks pulling away to stare at you.

And what a sight you were.

Hair splayed out on his pillow, eyes blown wide, and cheeks dusted with a pretty blush.

"Please.” You beg as Yoongi begins to thrust inside of you shallowly, slowly picking up the pace as he goes.

His hands are on either side of your head holding himself up as he fucks into you. You tear your eyes away from his gorgeous face to see his biceps bulging and you moan out his name.

The sound of slapping skin, grunts, and moans fill the room and you shift down to meet Yoongi’s every thrust.

But something is missing. You want more.

“Yoongi please.” You cry out when he thrusts into you harder and his cock hits that spot inside of you that has your toes curling and your lips parting in an obscene moan.

“Again Kitten use your words. Did we teach you nothing? Fuck.” He cries out as he tilts his hips to get a better angle deep inside of you.

“Choke me. Please fuck. Yoongi.” You beg as your hands come up to claw at his back.

He stops his movements. Completely stills and you whine at the loss of friction.

“You…sure?” He asks staring down at you with eyes wide. Like he couldn’t believe you had just said that.

“Please.” You beg as Yoongi smirks and slips out of you.

You let out a frustrated noise as he positions himself at the foot of the bed and taps his bare lap, signaling you to come over and ride his cock.

“Can’t hold myself up and choke you kitten. You have to decide.”

You scramble to the end of the bed and sink down on his cock. He feels so much deeper in this position and when his hand comes up to your neck you let out a moan and feel your eyes flutter closed.

“Fuck your a vision like this with my cock stuffing your pussy and my hand around your throat.” He mutters as you use his cock and begin to ride him.

He has one hand on the bed holding himself up and the other is around your neck.

You are seeing stars, absolute stars. The pleasure from his hand around you slightly choking you and the feeling of his cock stuffing you full has you riding him harder, chasing the high you so desperately craved.

Yoongi pushes a little harder on the sides of your neck and you're a goner. You arch your back up and feel the pleasure that was building and building finally crescendo into an orgasm that punches the air out of your lungs, or maybe that was the fact Yoongi was still fucking up into you wildly and his hand was still wrapped around your throat.

“My pretty Kitten cumming with my cock stuffed inside her and my hand around her pretty neck, fuck you are so hot. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.” He blabbers as he chases his own high and is soon cumming inside of you. His hand leaves your throat to steady himself on the bed so you both don’t topple forward and hit the floor.

You let him ride out his high as you come down from yours. He buries his face in your shoulder and grunts low and dangerous as he finally stills his hips.

He slowly shifts you up and off his lap, plopping you on the bed and standing up so he can crack open a window.

The whole room reeks of cum and sex and you flop back down on his bed putting a hand on your chest to feel your heart beating rapidly.

Yoongi pulls up his boxers and fishes around in his drawers for some looser pants pulling them over his legs before he sits down beside you.

He shoots you a rare smile and you smile back at him.

“So I’m not actually going to fail your class am I?” You tease breaking the silence as he giggles and you smile at him.

“Nah that was a heat of the moment thing. You are top of my class I would have no way of failing you.” He admits and you sit up and stare at him.

“Wait really? I’m top of the class? I…wow. I didn’t expect that.” You say shyly as he messes up his hair and smirks at you.

“How? You actually show up. You hand in assignments. You work hard. There is no reason you shouldn’t be top of my class.” He says and you flush at his praises.

“Even if a teacher had to come to talk to me and tell me to lay off a little bit.” He says with a teasing tone.

“He told me he wouldn’t say specifically who!” You say with a laugh rolling your eyes to the ceiling.

“He didn’t say it was you specifically but I could tell you were working yourself to death and needed a break. Or a release.” He says wiggling his eyebrows as you smack his arm.

Before you can answer there is a knock at the door and you pull your dress down and smooth it out as Hobi appears.

“Ah just in time,” Yoongi says as he smiles up at his friend.

“I know I heard you fucking her.” He grumbles as he leans against the door frame and you take him in.

The other two you were familiar with, but Hobi was a stranger so you took your time.

Your eyes roved his lean dancer’s body and how he leaned up against the door frame and crossed his arms with ease. He looked intimidating except for the small smile on his face.

“Only if you want to Kitten. You can walk out of here now. Your choice.” Yoongi reminds you.

“I don’t want to pressure you but I’m so fucking hard right now,” Hobi admits with a bite of his lips which has you standing up on shaky legs.

In two long strides, he reaches you and holds you steady against his strong frame.

“What did you do to her? She can hardly stand.” He accuses as Yoongi smirks and grabs a sweater on the floor, throwing it over his head and making his way back over to his desk and opening his laptop.

“Have fun kitten.” He says as he winks at you and puts his headphones over his ears.

Hobi leads you out into the hall and you take a shaky breath staring up at his beautiful face.

“Only if you want to.” He says shyly and you nod.

“Words please.” He says crossing his arms and staring you down.

“Yes. I want to. Though I might be extra sore.” You say with a grimace as you feel how tired your legs are and how your ass still stings from Namjoon’s earlier spanks.

Hobi grabs your hands and leads you to his room across the hall. You enter and take in the bright walls and decor and the big bed in the middle.

You can’t help yourself as you flop down on his bed and curl up in a ball. You take in the smell of his bed sheets and you sigh as he comes to sit next to you.

“You don’t have to baby. Seriously I want this to be good for both of us.” He says massaging your back as you peek up to look at him.

“Sorry Hobi I want to. God, I want to. It’s just the last two were…intense.” You admit suddenly feeling shy when he rolls you onto your back and stares down at you.

“How about we take it slow? Let me massage you and we will see where it leads hmm?” He asks and before you can answer he rolls you onto your stomach and his long fingers begin to massage the back of your legs.

You close your eyes and rest your cheek on his bed as he gets to work. He takes his time applying pressure to your sore muscles, digging his thumbs in where he feels like you need a little more pressure being respectful the whole time, and not letting his hands trail too high up your body.

You let out a whine when he massages a particularly sore spot and you spread your legs for him wider, letting his hands dance over the skin of your inner thighs.

“God baby you’re so tight.” He mutters as his hands travel down your calves and back up again earning a broken moan from you.

“So dance teacher huh?” You ask as he continues to work your muscles this time his hand inches high on your hamstrings and you push your face into the mattress at the feeling.

“Yeah, I’ve always loved dance and music and I had some teachers change my life and the way I see dance so I decided I wanted to be just like them. I love what I do.” He says softly as his fingers dig into your flesh and you feel yourself start to relax.

“How come I’ve never seen you on campus?” You ask voice muffled by his sheets as his hands continue to work your right and left leg.

“The dance studio is the furthest away from your building. We are the complete opposite sides of campus. Can’t have us blaring our music and having fun while you are trying to study for a test.” He teases as he gives you a small smack on the ass causing you to jolt and let out a pained whine.

He lifts the skirt of your dress and stares down at the red marks Namjoon left behind. His skilled hands massage the tender flesh and you let out another satisfied moan.

“T-True. But might be nice you know, to see you guys perform, might take away some stress.” You admit as his hands still wander your butt cheeks.

“I thought that’s what we were doing here?” He teases as you crane your neck to look at him and he flashes you a toothy smile.

His hands come to your hips to flip you over to your back. You stare up at his beautiful face and lean yourself up on your elbows capturing his lips in a kiss.

His hands cradle your head and hold you steady as he kisses you back. You feel blissed out as just like the others he takes his time exploring your mouth and pushing his lips into yours.

The kisses are slow and sweet, with no urgency just two people taking their time to get to know each other.

You shift so you are kneeling on the bed and you run your fingers through his dark hair and he sighs happily against your mouth.

You let your hands explore his hair, moving down to his neck and exploring his body.

You grab the hem of his shirt and your lips part so you can pull it off of him.

You press soft kisses to his neck and collarbones and smile against his skin when he throws his head back and whines.

You take your time with his body, kissing every freckle or mole you find as he holds your hair back and allows you to explore.

You stop at the hem of his loose-fitting pants and you can already see a sizeable bulge which causes you to giggle.

"So eager.” You tease as you lean up to capture his lips again and palm at his hard cock. He whines in your mouth as you push your palm into him and make sure to grind against his cockhead.

“You have no idea what it was like. Having to sit in this room and hear Namjoon and Yoongi fuck you. Torture.” He admits as you continue to palm him through the material.

“Did you like hearing how good I was getting fucked?” You say to him as you dance your fingers along his cock which is straining against the material, when you give him a squeeze you realize he is not wearing anything underneath and you gasp.

“Had to take them off. I was so fucking hard my cock needed some room. Didn’t wanna jerk off in case I came. The noises you make. Fuck Y/N I know why Namjoon picked you.” Hobi admits as you pull his pants down and watch as his cock smacks up against his toned stomach.

You take your time circling the base of his cock with your hand and he buries his face in your shoulder and whines at your touch.

You feel yourself start to get wet but you want to take your time and focus on him, he needs this more right now.

“If I make you cum now would you be able to still fuck me?” You ask as you begin to jerk him off, applying just the right amount of pressure and smearing his precum down his aching shaft.

“I-fuck-” He says as you flick your wrist at the top and watch as he bites his lip burying his face into your shoulder harder.

“Words please.” You say with a smirk as he pulls away and stares you down.

“I can tell you have been with Joon and Yoongi. I know I’m too pent up to fuck you right now I probably wouldn’t last. So yes. Please. Make me cum and I’ll fuck you.” He says as you nod and begin to stroke him harder.

He leans up to pull you in for a searing kiss and you tighten your grip on his cock which has him moaning against your mouth.

His hands are tangled wildly in your hair and you continue to jerk his cock harder and faster until he can no longer kiss you and instead is just moaning and whining against your swollen lips.

When you run your thumb under the head of his cock his hips jerk, fucking himself into your fist.

He continues to snap his hips forward and back, using your hand as his own personal fuck toy and you let him, loving the way he throws his head back making his hair push back from his sweaty forehead and the way the veins in his neck strain against his skin.

“Gonna cum for me?” You growl as you watch his eyes flutter open and he nods.

“Cum all over my hand Hobi. Come on now. Be a good boy and cum.” You demand and he loses it.

His body convulses forward and he buries his head back into your shoulder as he cums. Ropes of hot cum coat your fist as you let him work himself through it. He is still fucking up into your tight fist and when he finally stops you release his cock and begin to lap at the cum he left behind.

“Fuckkkk.” He groans out as he watches you lick and suck the cum up, his taste exploding in your mouth as you take your time, keeping your eyes locked on his as you finish the job and completely clean yourself.

“How are you real? Holy fuck how are you real?” He whines out as you smirk at the way his jaw is dropped and his eyes are blown wide.

You smile at him as you drop down on his bed and lie on your back, your knees starting to get sore from all the kneeling you had to do.

Hobi smirks and crawls off the bed, his hands grab at your hips and he pulls you to the very edge of the bed and kneels on the floor. Your eyes widen when his hands come to your knees and he flips up the skirt of your dress and prys your legs open as he gets comfortable between them.

“Gonna eat you out.” He mutters as he places hot kisses on your thighs and you spread them open wider for him.

When his mouth finally gets to your core you are almost shaking on the mattress. He laps at your clit and begins to swirl his tongue around it making you see stars.

Your hands grip the sheets below as you bring your legs up to wrap around his back caging him in place.

He chuckles against your core and continues to suck and lick at your clit, you can hear the wetness of his tongue lapping at your wetness and it makes your pussy pulse.

His tongue runs up and down your slit and he buries his face into your core causing his strong nose to bump against your clit sending you arching off the bed and a broken moan falling from your lips

His hands hold onto your thighs keeping you steady as he licks and sucks, pressing harder and working faster as you feel your orgasm start to build in your lower stomach.

You are squirming on the sheets and his name is falling out of your mouth in a prayer as he works harder and sucks up everything you are giving him

“Ho-Hobi stop you gotta stop.” You cry out as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Not wanting to fall off too soon.

“Baby your sopping wet for me.” He says as his head pops up between your legs and you see his lips shiny with your arousal, some is even leaking down his chin, and you swear it’s the hottest sight you have ever seen.

“Want you to fuck me Hobi.” You say as you sit up and watch him get up from the floor. His cock is once again rock hard against his stomach and he smiles at you.

He grabs a condom and rolls it onto his cock, pumping himself a few times as he leans down on the bed.

“How do you want me?” He asks as you sit up and close your legs giving him room to sit next to you.

“However you want. I just don’t think I can ride you. I think my legs will literally fall off.” You say with a laugh as Hobi eyes you mischievously.

“Did you ride both Joon and Yoongi?”

You nod.

“Don’t they know there are other positions to choose from? Fuck no wonder you are tired.” He says sitting on the bed beside you and stroking your knee in a comforting way.

“Well Joon I didn’t mind but with Yoongi we had to….for…reasons.” You say blushing at the memory of his hand wrapped around your neck.

“Reasons?” He asks with a cock of his eyebrow.

“He um..was choking me. Consensually of course!” You reply as you choose to stare at the floor instead of Hobi’s surprised face.

“Kinky.” He says with a soft giggle as you face him and smile shyly.

“Okay how about this lay against the headboard feet flat on the bed, I’ll do all the work baby.” He says patting you as you follow his instructions.

You spread your legs as Hobi crawls up the bed towards you. He places his hands on the headboard to hold himself steady and is on his knees running his cock through your folds.

You let out a broken whine and his eyes snap to yours in concern.

“I’m okay just…sensitive.” You admit already knowing that having a third cock inside of you in a short span of time will only make the soreness worse.

“I’ll go easy baby.” He says as he uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips even more and he slides his cock in.

Hobi is just as big as the others and even though you have lost track of how many times you have cum you can still feel a slight stretch as he bottoms out.

You close your eyes and scrunch your face, letting your body get used to the sensation as he stills and gives you time to adjust.

“Fuck you are so wet inside. Your soaking my cock baby. So fucking wet. And all for me.” He mutters in your ear causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

He starts to thrust shallowly inside of you and you bring your knees closer to your chest giving him more access to your core as he starts to pound into you with force.

Hobi is skilled with his hips and you can see why he would be a good dancer, he alternates from wild thrusting to burying his cock deep inside of you and grinding his hips causing his cock head to brush against your g-spot.

Hobi holds your legs open almost bending you in half and giving his cock room to go deeper inside of you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach but your eyes are too heavy to open right now so you take deep breaths and focus on the sensation.

The view you are missing is immaculate.

Hobi’s hips are thrusting deep inside of you and his head is thrown back in pleasure. His hair is sweaty and stuck to his forehead and his lips are sucked into his mouth as he works on bringing you over the edge.

You feel the coil of pleasure start to tighten and you know you are close.

Hobi is so good and once he gets into a rhythm he starts thrusting erratically making you shake on the bed and whine out his name.

Your eyes are screwed shut when you cum. Crying out his name in a broken moan that is ripped from your lungs. You want to cry from the feeling of having another orgasm as euphoria washes over you. It is too much and not enough at the same time and you feel tears slip out of your eyes when he continues to work his cock deep inside of you chasing his high.

“One more baby can you give me one more?” He asks in a desperate tone as his thrusts become erratic and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life as the overstimulation is almost painful.

“Ho-Hobi please please it’s too much… fuck!” You cry when his hand comes down to circle your clit and you feel your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Want you to cum with me can you do that baby. Come on one more on my cock.” He says breathlessly as you quickly reach the edge one more time and you cry out and feel your walls pulse against his cock which twitches and cums deep inside of your pussy.

He has his cock buried all the way in and is panting above you as you both ride out your highs.

When you finally come down the soreness in your body takes over and you slump against the headboard.

He pulls out of you and tosses the condom and leaves you spread eagle on the bed. You don’t mind though you are too worried about trying to force air back into your lungs after that intense orgasm.

Faintly you hear running water and you open your eyes to see Namjoon standing there leaning against the door frame with his hands tucked into his pockets.

He changed out of his clothes into soft green pj pants and a big baggy sweater, the hood was thrown over his messy hair and he stared at you affectionately.

“Come on princess we have to get you cleaned up now.” He says as he enters the room and walks over to Hobi’s window throwing it open to air out the room.

You groan and bury your face in the pillows, the last thing you want to do is stand up right now.

“Come on I got you.” He says softly as he scoops you in his arms like you weigh nothing and you bury your face in his soft sweater as he carries you towards the source of the running water.

The bathroom lights are dimmed and you see Yoongi is already there testing the water with his finger. Namjoon sets you down on shaky legs and you look around at the three men standing in the bathroom, all of them grinning at you.

Namjoon slowly slips the straps of your dress down and he lets it pool at your ankles. You step out of it as Hobi holds you up and helps you into the warm bath.

You sink into the warm water and let out a content sigh as Hobi and Yoongi leave the room, leaving you with Namoon who is still staring at you affectionately.

“Take as long as you need Princess. Towels are over there and there is a change of clothes on the vanity. It’s our stuff so it might not perfectly fit but it will do.” He says with a dimpled smile.

“Yoongi is making some food so take your time we will bring it up to you.” He says softly as he closes the door.

You inhale the lavender scent of the bubble bath and you sigh and sink deeper in the water, hoping it will ease some of the ache in your legs.

You flutter your eyes closed and aren’t sure how long you are laying there when the door cracks open and Yoongi is there with a plate of noodles that smell wonderful.

He places it on a mini folding table and leaves the room again, giving you time to eat in peace.

You spend a total of forty minutes in the bath and as you dry off and throw on the soft sweatpants and sweater someone knocks on the door and you see Namjoon standing there again.

“How do you feel princess?” He asks still leaning against the door frame as you let your hair down and throw the hood of the sweater over your messy hair.

“Relaxed. And so sleepy.” You admit as he comes behind you and hugs you, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“You did amazing tonight princess. So good for us. It’s pretty late so if you want to crash here we have a spare room. Or if you're comfortable you can sleep next to one of us. Or if you want to go home you can. Your choice.” He says as he raises his head to stare at both of your reflections in the mirror.

“Wanna sleep next to you Joon? Is that okay?” You say feeling small and safe in his arms.

He shoots you a smile as he takes your hands and leads you to his bedroom. The small bedside lamp is on and you see the duvet already rolled down. He assists you over to the bed as your legs are still shaky and he helps you get under the covers.

He crawls in on the other side and flicks off the lamp casting the room in darkness as he comes behind you to spoon you, his hands holding you flush against him.

“What time is it anyway?” You ask craning your neck to look out his window where you can see a small sliver of the moon illuminated in the sky.

“Almost eleven.” He replies as you gasp.

You didn’t think that much time had passed.

“Time flies when you're being fucked.” He teases as you smack his arm and he laughs, face buried in your neck.

“You should give me bonus marks on the exam for dealing with your terrible jokes.” You grumble as he is still chuckling behind you.

“Maybe I will.” He says as you can hear his voice drop a couple of octaves, he must be as tired as you are.

“Night Mr.Kim.” You tease pushing your butt back so it’s flush against his cock as he groans low in your ear.

“Goodnight Miss Y/N”

#Kim namjoon #Min Yoongi #jung hoseok #namjoon #jhope #bts #bts rapline #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #hobi smut #namjoon/reader smut #yoongi/reader smut #hobi/reader smut #yoongi #bts smut #bts fanfiction

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euphoricfilter · 1 year ago

Text

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober day 12

[day twelve: overstimulation]

pairing: yoongi x f. reader

tags/ warnings: pwp, vibrator, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, minor oral? (f. receiving), unprotected sex

notes: smut straight under the cut

kinktober masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“Too much—Shit Yoongi, no more” your thighs quiver, orgasm lingering as he pulls the vibrator away from your clit, poor little thing, swollen. Throbbing with that aching sort of want as your pussy dribbles another pitiful wad of slick onto the sheets.

He leans down lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, tongue laving over as your orgasm slowly ebbs away, sparks of overstimulation tingling down your legs, cunt clenching around nothing.

He presses the vibrator over your entrance, pussy lips parting around the silicone as he presses it ever so gently past your walls.

“Yoongi” you whine, fingers tangling into his hair as he continues to suck at your clit, hips rutting up into his face as you continue to chase the edging pleasure, he’s pulling out of you.

He hums, pitiful moan dripping thick off your tongue at the added vibration, arousal seeping out of your pussy over the silicone toy, dripping over his fingers, skin slicked shiny.

He thrusts the toy a little further into you, angling it upwards ever so slightly.

Yoongi’s lips press a kiss over your clit before he’s pulling away, tongue cleaning the mess you made of his face as his eyes glaze over your pussy. Creamy slick slipping down you perineum, poor little pussy clenching around the vibrator, a mean little smile tugging at Yoongi’s lips.

He presses one of the buttons on the side, your mouth falling open, unfiltered moan clawing up your throat, overstimulated pussy pulsating around the toy.

“Fuck—” you cry, “s’ too much” tears cling to your waterline, fingers digging into the sheets below you, hips bucking upwards.

“Cum again for me, baby” he murmurs, presses a kiss over your sweat-slicked chest, lips ghosting over your nipple.

He thrusts the vibrator into you, knuckles nudging against your sensitive little bud with every press into you.

“Can’t” you whine, thighs quivering, snapping closed around his hand.

“Yes you can, always so pretty when your poor little cunt is ruined” his tongue runs over your nipple.

Your mouth falls open, world burning white for a moment as you tip over the edge, orgasm shaking your body. Clawing up your spine as your legs shake, Yoongi’s fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he holds them open, deep reverberate of his voice barely penetrating your ears as he tells you how pretty you are.

You blink away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks, Yoongi’s thumb brushing over your damp cheek.

“You here with me?” he asks, hint of a smile on his face. The prideful kind, the one where you know he would be sure to remind you of this moment in the coming days.

You nod, swallowing.

Pussy swollen, aftereffects of the vibrator still tingling down your body, stomach tensing as your orgasm slowly slips away, gentle hum of what was once there still sends hints of pleasure throughout your body. Dopamine hazed mind slowly processing the press of Yoongi’s cockhead against your entrance.

“Think you can give me one more?” he presses a kiss to your jaw, angling his cock through your folds.

The tip nudges against your clit, hips jutting upwards, slightest of touch enough stimulation to have slick leaking out of you.

You nod, arms slipping around his neck as you pull his body closer to yours.

“Words, baby. Need to hear you” he presses another kiss to your cheek.

“One more” you nod, “I won’t last long”

He hums, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips as he pulls your body over his thighs a little. Pretty fingers wrapping around his length before he’s pressing over your entrance.

Your back arches as he splits you open, cunt pulled wide over the flared head before he’s sinking into you, hips rolling forward; seemingly not in a rush.

His thumb gently brushes over your clit, cunt pulsating around him as the sparks of delicious pain mingled pleasure slips down the length of your body.

He needs no warning when you’re about to cum, hips jackhammering into you, angled perfectly as he presses you further and further towards another orgasm.

“Shit Yoongi” you curse, feeling it build within your stomach, your hands pressing against his stomach as he ruts his thick cock into you.

“Come on, pretty” he grunts, head tipped back at his own pleasure.

He just about catches sight of it, cock slipping out of you as his fingers rub over your pussy as you squirt over yourself, some of his catching his cock. Your hips jolt upwards as he continues to rub your clit, another spurt of cum wetting his hand as you moan his name, mind fully fucked as overestimated pleasure buzzes beneath your skin.

You barely register Yoongi jacking himself off over you, tugging his hard cock at the sight of you fucked out body. Pussy lips swollen and pitiful little clit throbbing, wet slicked shiny and sticky with your arousal, creamy cum clinging to your folds.

You moan when you feel his cum shoot against your pussy lips, running his cockhead through your folds, smearing his release over your soiled cunt.

“Always such a good girl for me” he lets the final spurt of his cum coat your pussy, “Letting me make you feel good, mind nothing more than mine to ruin”

You reach out for him, uncaring of the mess between your thighs, not when he smothers you with kisses, endless praise dripping off his tongue as you come down from your lust filled high.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts kinktober #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader

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chimcess · 1 month ago

Text

Lady's Honor || ksj

Pairing: Seokjin x ReaderOther Tags: Lord!Seokjin, Lady!Reader, Lord!Jimin, Lord!Jimin, Lord!Yoongi Genre: Regency!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, HEA Word Count: 16.8k+ Summary: What unfolds when a gentleman's noble effort to help a lady in distress inadvertently tarnishes her reputation? He finds himself bound to protect her honor at any cost—even if it means risking his own life. Warnings: Attempted assault on reader, society at this time was very judgement, practically forced marriage, but they like one another so it's fine, everyone has a title that is different from their true names, because they're Earls and own land, Eisen is disgusting, Jin is a gentleman, mentions of sex, illusions to sex, light teasing, need for an heir, Jin has a 'My Lord' kink, kissing (scandalous at this time), pregnancy, child birth, minor character death, dueling, main character injured, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I've been trying to write in new styles and dive into different themes outside of fantasy, and so I really stepped out of my comfort zone to write this one. Rereading some Jane Austen was also helpful. Hope you enjoy.

Perhaps it was the oppressive heat radiating from the hundreds of flickering candles scattered throughout the ballroom that made him uneasy. But more likely, it was the desperate air of the young woman he’d just finished dancing with. The Earl of Rushmore felt a prickling sensation crawl up his spine, a warning he couldn’t quite dismiss.

“That was ever so splendid, my lord,” Miss Rose Tyrell tittered, bouncing on her toes like an eager puppy. Every exaggerated movement seemed calculated to draw his gaze to her décolletage. “You dance exquisitely.” She leaned in, flashing a smile that he could only interpret as desperate. It turned his stomach.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, forcing his lips into a smile that barely masked his irritation. The corners of his eyes tightened as he nodded to Sir Gerald Tyrell, her father, standing awkwardly on the periphery. With that, he made to escape the stifling encounter.

Yet just as he turned to leave, the shrill voice of Lady Tyrell pierced the air, dragging him back into tedious conversation. “My lord, we are organizing an outing to Vauxhall Gardens next week, and one of our gentlemen has had to leave London for urgent family business, leaving us one short.” She fluttered her fan with all the grace of a chicken flapping its wings. “Would you do us the honor of joining our group?”

A familiar panic clawed at him, a suffocating sensation that had haunted him through countless soirées with the daughters of ambitious families. It was as if his sordid reputation—of womanizing, reckless drinking, and gambling—had become a beacon, attracting those looking to snag a title for their daughters. The very thought made him itch with the need to flee.

“I’ll have to check my availability,” he said, the words falling from his lips with the practiced ease of a politician. “I shall send word on the morrow. Good evening, ladies.” He bowed stiffly to Miss Tyrell and her mother before making a purposeful exit, each step a declaration of his freedom.

The musicians began to play the next set, and a wave of relief washed over him as he realized he was free from the obligation of dancing with any particular young lady. The evening had thus far been a parade of vapid chatter and trivial pursuits, save for one notable exception—Miss Y/L/N.

He had heard whispers of her modest debut the previous season but had only caught a glimpse of her tonight. There was something about her, an ethereal beauty that shone through the murk of societal expectations, and a vivacious yet modest personality that intrigued him. She shared his passion for stargazing, a rare treasure amidst the sea of watercolor painting and embroidery that most young ladies feigned expertise in.

He spotted his mother among a gaggle of women and approached, forcing a smile. “Mother, I’m going to take a stroll in the garden.”

“Oh, my dear, I had hoped to present you to Miss Webber,” she said, her tone a blend of disappointment and guilt.

Resigned to the endless parade of introductions and dances, he craved a brief escape. “I shall only be gone for one set,” he promised, his voice laced with indulgence.

“Ah yes, and then you’ll disappear into the card room, and it will be impossible to find you a suitable wife. Really, Rushmore, you are two-and-thirty. It’s time you settled down and set up your nursery.”

Her words pricked at him like thorns, and he fought the urge to unleash the torrent of frustration bubbling inside. He knew she meant well; her intentions were rooted in love, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage.

“Yes, Mother, I understand. If you will excuse me?” He nodded to acquaintances as he maneuvered through the ballroom. Stepping out onto the terrace, he finally felt the weight lift, if only slightly. The coolness of the evening enveloped him, a comforting embrace that allowed him to breathe freely.

Only the crunch of his gleaming Hessian boots broke the silence as he wandered along the gravel path that wove between hedgerows and blooms. He was weary, so utterly weary of the relentless pressure of the marriage mart. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, the sound mingling with the night air.

After a few minutes, he wandered beyond the glow of the paper lanterns dangling from the trees, halting to let his eyes adjust to the enveloping darkness. He tilted his head back, searching for constellations, but the encroaching clouds obscured his view.

In these precious moments of solitude, he could cast aside the weight of his title, the incessant pleas of his mother for an heir. Here, he could simply be Seokjin, not “Rushmore” or “my lord.” He wasn’t sure how long he’d been absent, but he knew it had been long enough for his mother to send a search party to drag him back to the ballroom for another tedious encounter.

The rebellious spirit that had defined his youth flared within him. He would be damned if he shackled himself to one of these vapid fortune hunters. When he married, it would be on his terms, in his time. In a final act of defiance, he chose a longer route back, hoping to prolong this rare moment of freedom.

As he strolled, he noticed a section of the path where the stones had been disturbed and the flowers trampled. He frowned, planning to speak with Lord Min; the gardener needed a firm reminder of his duties.

He had not taken but two steps past the ruined path when he heard a rustling from the rhododendron bushes to his left. He paused, hesitant to interrupt whatever clandestine meeting might be unfolding there. When silence fell once more, curiosity gnawed at him, urging him closer.

Peering through the foliage, he caught sight of an abandoned dancing slipper, its owner nowhere in sight. He almost dismissed it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a wry grin. It had been far too long since he had shared the company of a woman who intrigued him.

But then the unmistakable sound of sobbing pierced the air, and his heart twisted in an unexpected pang of concern. The battle within him waged on, but as he took another step, he spotted a young woman crawling on the ground, frantically searching for that missing shoe.

Instinct propelled him forward. He stepped off the path, making his presence known through the rustling bushes, startling her in the process. She scrambled backward, eyes wide with panic, as if he were a specter come to haunt her. Her skirts were stained with dirt, and her hair hung in disarray, obscuring her features.

“Miss? Are you hurt?” His voice broke the tension, filled with concern.

She whimpered softly, the sound twisting his gut. What had happened to her?

Looking around, he saw no one else nearby, no lurking assailants or companions to provide solace. Crouching down, he made no sudden movements toward her.

“Please, miss, I have no wish to harm you. Do you have a companion or chaperone you would like me to summon?” When silence stretched between them, he tried again, softer this time. “Let me help you back to the ball. We’ll find a discreet entrance—somewhere hidden.”

At last, she raised her head, and he sucked in a sharp breath. How had Y/N Y/L/N ended up in such a predicament? By all accounts, she was the embodiment of propriety, not one to engage in scandal.

As he took in her appearance, he noticed the tear in the bodice of her gown, the clutched remnants of a pair of drawers that were also damaged. Rage ignited within him, a hot ember that flared into a blaze. It was one thing for a man to indulge his desires with a mistress, but to force himself on an innocent like Miss Y/L/N? That was an outrage beyond measure.

"Who did this to you, Miss Y/L/N?" he demanded, his voice low, strained, as though the question had been pulled from the very depths of a dark pit within him.

She shook her head, her entire body trembling, a fragile thing caught in a tempest. "No one, my lord," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Her reticence ignited a fury in him, a volcanic rage simmering beneath the surface, but he clamped down on it. He wanted to shake her, to rattle loose the truth from her lips like a confession from a guilty soul. But he held back, aware that rage could consume him whole.

"So you mean to tell me that you've ruined your hair, shredded your dress, and torn your—" He faltered, words dying on his tongue as he caught sight of the cruel red welts marring her cheek, vivid streaks of pain that seemed to shout a silent accusation at the dark night. His nostrils flared, drawing in the scent of roses mingling with something more sinister—fear.

"And you did this all to yourself?" he asked through gritted teeth, the effort to contain his fury almost painful. "Forgive me if I find that scenario a little hard to swallow. Tell me who has harmed you, and I will see the blackguard brought to account for his actions."

He stood up, a sudden restlessness seizing him, his hands clenching and unclenching as he flipped the tails of his dark blue superfine coat behind him. The air crackled with the unspoken promise of violence, a storm gathering within him as he paced, thoughts colliding like thunderheads in a darkening sky. Abruptly, he stopped and pointed at her drawers, still clutched tightly against her chest. "Did he manage to...?"

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. He couldn’t voice the horrific possibility that loomed over them, and for a fleeting moment, he marveled at the violent protectiveness rising up from the depths of his heart. It felt foreign, primal.

She shook her head, her gaze dropping to the ground, a broken bird struggling to mend its wings. A small whimper escaped her lips, and his heart twisted painfully at the sight. She winced as she shifted her weight to her unshod foot, and his anger flared anew. Who had she been dancing with after him? The names flooded his mind, but one stood out—a dark specter of a man who lurked at the edges of polite society.

Jonathon, Lord Eisen.

In the grand tapestry of reputation, Seokjin would be the saint compared to the notorious Viscount Eisen, a man known for treating young ladies like pawns in his cruel game. Wealthy, yes, but at what cost?

"Did Lord Eisen do this?" he pressed, the words a growl. "Did he lure you into the gardens?"

Her eyes widened, a silent acknowledgment that echoed like a bell tolling a grim fate. In the distance, a chorus of voices called her name, the urgency cutting through the night like a knife. They were looking for her, and the dread of discovery hung in the air, a heavy mist curling around them.

"Miss Y/L/N, please, let me help you back before we’re found in this position. There’s no reason to ruin your reputation by being seen with someone like me."

She blushed, ducking her head, and for a moment, he thought he glimpsed a flicker of a smile. But then, she faltered, her fragile façade crumbling. "I cannot walk, my lord. I fear I have... s-sprained my ankle."

Reality crashed over him as he realized that the chill in the air had seeped into her bones, amplifying the shivering that gripped her. With a quick determination, he shrugged off his topcoat and draped it around her shoulders, enveloping her in warmth, an oasis in a desert of despair.

"Put your arm around my neck," he instructed gently, bending down to meet her eyes. When she complied, her drawers still clutched in the other hand, he lifted her as though she weighed nothing, an echo of the strength he didn’t know he possessed. As he carried her toward the house, the softness of her body against his ignited something deep within him, a rush of feelings he was unprepared to face.

"Why did he stop?" he asked, the question an uneasy tremor in the quiet of the night.

She inhaled sharply, her breath hitching, and laid her head against his shoulder. For a heartbeat, he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then, with a voice steeped in trembling fear, she whispered close to his ear, "I fought him. I kicked and scratched... That’s when he slapped me. I think he heard you coming."

The revelation stirred a darkness within him, igniting a fierce desire for vengeance. "He will pay for this," Seokjin vowed, his heart pounding with a dangerous intensity. The very air crackled with his determination to protect her honor. She had a brother, a man more than willing to seek revenge, and yet, here he was, feeling like a moth drawn to the flame of her vulnerability.

As her head rested against his shoulder, a curious weight settled around his throat, tightening like a noose, a reminder that he had no business becoming entangled in her fate. But how could he turn away when the shadows had crept into her life, and he felt the unmistakable tug of something deeper than duty—something that felt like destiny.

What a coil! thought Y/N, a frenzied swirl of confusion and unease tightening in her chest. She had only intended to stroll with Lord Eisen along the terrace, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the manicured gardens. But when he asked about her interest in the stars, her passion ignited, and she began chattering like an eager canary, the words spilling forth in a rush, a desperate bid for connection.

Lost in her own celestial musings, she hadn’t noticed the subtle shift in direction until it was too late. The secluded part of the garden loomed before her like a trap waiting to snap shut. In an instant, the air around her thickened with a sense of foreboding, the fragrant blooms suddenly oppressive.

It was all she could do to keep her wits about her as he forced her against a tree, the bark digging into her back, bruising her lips with punishing kisses that felt like a betrayal of her very soul. She raked her fingernails down his cheek, a desperate act of defiance, but instead of pulling back, it only seemed to stoke the fire in his eyes, a dark hunger awakening within him.

She burrowed her face into Lord Rushmore's shoulder, desperately trying to will the shame of what Lord Eisen had done to her to dissipate like morning mist. Had she behaved wantonly? No, she had acted every bit the lady, hadn’t she? But the tightness in her throat mounted, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Cursing her overactive emotions, she knew she needed a moment to compose herself before returning to the ball, to that cruel world of social masks and whispered judgments.

As they entered the lit portion of the garden, her brother's voice bellowed her name, booming through the night like a thunderclap. Panic surged in her chest, and she cast about for a more private place, somewhere she could gather the scattered pieces of herself.

"Lord Rushmore's, might we sit at that bench for a moment while I attempt to put myself to rights?" she implored, her voice quivering.

When she looked up into his eyes, she felt that same fluttering sensation that had gripped her during their earlier waltz. His eyes, an unsettling shade of green, seemed to pierce through the façade she tried so hard to maintain. She couldn't help but notice the strength of his arms, how effortlessly he carried her, as if she were nothing more than a feather. And if she were being completely honest, the way his coat hugged his broad torso and how those buff-colored breeches molded to his powerful thighs made her heart race in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

Heat flooded her cheeks as that thought twisted inside her like a serpent coiling tighter, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something flicker in Lord Rushmore's gaze—a fleeting spark that vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind only his mask of calm.

He nodded once, a movement fluid and deliberate, and made his way to a weathered stone bench nestled behind a grouping of lilacs. The flowers whispered secrets in the night breeze, and she felt both comforted and exposed in their presence. With utmost care, he deposited her onto the bench before turning to stand guard, his posture protective, a fortress against the horrors she had just endured.

Hastily, she donned the torn drawers, feeling the fabric scratch against her skin, but it was better than being seen carrying her undergarments. As she fussed with the bodice of her cream chiffon and lace gown, the reality of her disheveled state crashed over her, a wave of hopelessness that threatened to drown her. The earlier magic of the evening had been shattered, leaving only fragments of what could have been.

But perhaps not completely. The thrill of being in the arms of such a handsome man still pulsed through her veins, even if he wasn’t the type a respectable girl should find appealing. The allure of a man with a dangerous reputation was like a moth drawn to flame, intoxicating yet perilous.

It was silly to think such thoughts, she chastised herself. He was merely doing his gentlemanly duty, ensuring her safe return. Any notion that he might entertain feelings for her was absurd. Besides, the gossip among the parlors of the ton painted him as a confirmed bachelor, much to his mother’s dismay.

She twisted one last piece of hair, pinning it into the mass of curls and braids atop her head. "Do I still look as though I’ve been tumbled in the bushes?" She rested her hands in her lap and looked at the Earl, who seemed lost in thought.

He took several deep breaths, and she wondered if he, too, felt the weight of the moment pressing down on them. His nostrils flared, lips pursed, as he studied her appearance, and the intensity of his gaze sent a fresh wave of heat rising in her cheeks. She cast her eyes down, biting her lower lip to keep from trembling under the weight of his scrutiny.

"Well, your color seems to have returned," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, reminiscent of her brother's teasing ways.

"May I examine your ankle?" he asked, shifting to sit next to her on the bench.

Without waiting for her consent, he leaned down and lifted both of her feet, drawing them across his lap. A furious heat shot through her, screaming in indignation, How dare he? But as his warm hands slipped off her dancing shoe and began to probe her foot, any righteous fury fled her like a shadow at dawn.

His touch was gentle, exploring the instep, his fingers moving with a calm assurance that sent shivers racing up her spine. She hissed when he pressed on a particularly tender spot, and he nodded softly, his eyes focused and intent, then replaced her slipper without lowering her feet.

"It has begun to swell slightly, but I don’t believe it to be broken." His words were curt, almost clinical, yet they held a honeyed warmth that seeped into her bones, loosening the tension that had coiled tightly within her.

"And my hair— is it even remotely presentable?" She caught his gaze, feeling ensnared, unable to break free from the magnetic pull between them. The sweet scent of lilacs surrounded them like a fog, and even though she was wrapped snugly in the Earl’s topcoat, a chill raced through her.

For a long moment, the world around them fell away, leaving only the two of them in that secret garden, an electric energy drawing them closer together.

"Far more than presentable," he murmured, inching closer, his breath warm against her skin.

His hand lifted, tentatively brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. As his fingers lingered against her jaw, she felt the weight of his gaze, a tether pulling her into the depths of something she could neither understand nor resist.

Her heart thundered in her chest, a wild drumbeat that seemed to echo the chaos of the night. In that fleeting moment, as the lilacs danced in the night breeze, the world faded away, leaving only the two of them standing on the precipice of something undeniably profound.

“Sis-...Kim! Unhand my sister at once!”

Like the fragile sheen of a child’s soap bubble, the magic enveloping them burst the moment Anthony’s voice cut through the night—a jagged shard of ice in a world of warmth. In what felt like a heartbeat, Anthony surged forward, seizing the Earl and slamming him against the rough bark of an ancient elm, his forearm digging into the Earl’s throat with a grim resolve.

Lord Rushmore's retreating form was replaced by her father, who seized her by the shoulders, his gaze sweeping over her with the intensity of a hawk eyeing its prey. "Her dress is torn," he shouted, as if those words could mend the fraying fabric of her dignity. The sheer horror in her father’s tone twisted the knife in her gut, causing Anthony’s grip on the Earl to tighten, his elbow pressing cruelly into the Earl’s neck.

“Anthony, stop! This isn’t what it seems…” Panic clawed at her throat as she saw the search party gather, shadows converging on their secluded haven. Her heart sank, heavy and leaden, as if it were chained to the ground.

“What has that scoundrel done to you, my child?” Her father’s voice was a fierce whisper, laden with unspoken fears.

To his credit, the Earl of Rushmore merely grasped Anthony's arm, a desperate attempt to stave off asphyxiation, doing nothing to fight back against the encroaching storm.

In moments, the terrace teemed with onlookers, the whole ballroom spilling out into the moonlight, the murmurs and gasps igniting an electric buzz that thrummed in the air, each sound a reminder of their encroaching doom.

“Anthony, summon the carriage and fetch your mother,” her father commanded, voice clipped and taut.

Anthony nodded, stepping back, the heat of anger still radiating from him. He straightened, eyes ablaze, locking onto the Earl with a fury that promised retribution. “This isn’t over, Kim. We’ll speak tomorrow at Parke’s.” With that, he turned and stormed off, leaving chaos in his wake, people scattering like leaves before a gale.

The music from the ballroom swelled, Lady Min's voice announcing the supper dances, a cruel mockery of their plight. In mere moments, the crowd thinned, but it was clear that The Honorable Y/N Y/L/N, daughter of Lord and Lady Y/L/N, and The Earl of Rushmore would become the latest gossip—a scandal writ large against the night sky.

By dawn, Parke’s gentleman's club buzzed with wagers, bets slung like daggers as men debated Lord Rushmore's fate: Would he indeed find himself shackled in matrimony? How quickly would he wed Miss Y/L/N? And would her brother, Mr. Y/L/N, take the Earl’s life for this affront?

“Tough lot there, ol’ chap,” Lord Newton said as Seokjin strode past, his voice laced with mockery. “Too much trouble for a bit of muslin, wouldn’t you agree?”

Seokjin turned, ready to unleash fury, but two strong hands—one muscular, the other wiry—restrained him, anchoring him before he could lash out.

“Save your fists, Kim. There’s nothing to be gained from boors like Newton,” Namjoon, Lord Halston, his cousin, interjected, grounding Seokjin with his steady presence.

The fight ebbed from Seokjin’s body as Halston’s words sank in. Jimin, Lord Whitmore, gave his shoulder a reassuring pat before releasing him, the trio turning from the cowering Lord Bolton as they slipped into a more private parlor.

Both Park and Halston had witnessed the disastrous ball, no explanation needed for the morning’s stirrings around the betting book. Seokjin had already divulged the details of the night’s chaos, though in truth, it mattered little. Reputation was a delicate thing, and in the eyes of the ton, he’d become the villain in Miss Y/L/N’s tale.

“Will you go make your addresses to her father?” Park asked, his tone serious.

“I fear I must,” Seokjin replied, frustration twisting in his gut. “Blast it, I never meant to land myself in this mess.”

“Come now, Kim. The chit seems biddable enough. She won’t put up a fuss if you want your freedoms, will she?” Halston suggested, shaking open the daily news with a flourish.

Seokjin groaned, raking his fingers through his hair, the weight of propriety and duty pressing down on him. “That’s not how the Kim men are bred. Blast!” He tapped his fingers against the table, cursing the moral fibers woven into his being.

A light touch on his forearm brought his attention back. Park’s finger pointed to the door, signaling an approaching visitor. Seokjin looked up to see Anthony Y/L/N enter, flanked by two unfamiliar young men.

“Kim,” Anthony greeted, his tone frosty.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” Seokjin replied, offering a curt nod, the air thickening with tension.

“I’m here to settle the matter of my sister’s honor.”

“I assumed as much. I assure you, I’ll speak to Lord Y/L/N and Miss Y/L/N tomorrow.”

“Did you compromise her on purpose? What was your design?” Anthony stepped forward, rage simmering just beneath the surface.

Seokjin sighed, rising from his chair, emboldened by the silent support of his friends. “I did no such thing. Did she explain what happened?”

“She did, but you should have known better than to be caught in such a position with her—especially with her appearance in such a state. You knew that tongues would wag, and wag they have.”

Seokjin could see Anthony’s fists clenching, breath coming in sharp bursts, his face a mask of barely-contained fury. He’d heard whispers of Anthony’s quick temper but had never imagined standing on the receiving end.

He took a step closer, his finger jabbing into Anthony’s chest. “See here, Y/L/N, I’m prepared to offer the protection of my name and title to your sister. What would you have had me do? Walk away and leave her vulnerable? If I hadn’t intervened, Lord Eisen would have ruined her reputation, violated her very person.”

The words struck a nerve, twisting Anthony’s expression into one of frustration and disbelief.

“Her reputation will be salvaged,” Seokjin pressed on, “and in a few weeks, another scandal will eclipse this one. What more do you want? Will you have your pound of flesh, too?”

They stood nearly nose to nose now, the air between them electric with tension, fists ready to unleash fury.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I require,” Anthony spat, his voice low and dangerous.

“And if you kill me, where does that leave your sister?”

Seokjin should have known better than to expect any form of civility from the brutish Anthony. The man was a wall of muscle, a shadow looming over him like a thunderstorm ready to unleash its fury. Sure, Anthony had height and heft on his side, but Seokjin was no stranger to the dark art of combat, having spent countless hours in the ring at Gentleman Jackson's boxing saloon. There, he had learned the subtleties of tactical fighting—the way a well-placed jab could shift the tide of a bout. Confidence flowed through him like the heavy liquor that coated the floor of the dimly lit establishment.

"Well, then, let us do this in grand fashion, shall we?" Seokjin said, a smirk dancing on his lips, concealing the tremor of anxiety curling in his gut like a serpent ready to strike.

"What did you have in mind?" Anthony grunted, his voice deep and gravelly, like rocks grinding underfoot.

"A match at Jackson's. Until one of us is rendered unconscious or yields." Seokjin’s heart raced at the thought, part anticipation, part dread.

Mr. Y/L/N paused, glancing between his companions as if he were deciphering a silent code in their expressions. After a moment’s consideration, he crossed his meaty arms over his chest, the muscles bulging like a tightly wound spring. "Agreed. When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. I shall call upon your father and sister in the morning." The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

"Very well," Anthony replied, the growl in his throat barely concealing his eagerness for confrontation.

As the brutish figure turned to leave, Seokjin felt a sudden surge of courage. "Mr. Y/L/N?"

The response was a low, menacing growl. "What now?"

"I do have one small request."

"And that is?"

"Try not to do too much damage to my face. I would hate to have two black eyes and a crooked nose on my wedding day." He forced a chuckle, but it echoed hollowly against the walls of the club.

"You'll be lucky if that's all I leave you with," Anthony grumbled, the threat hanging in the air like a storm cloud. He turned and strode out of the club, his companions trailing like lost souls in his wake.

Once the tension subsided, Seokjin let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Park?" he asked, turning to his friend.

"Yes, Kim?"

"Do you still have a connection with a certain Bow Street informant?" His voice was a low murmur, as if the walls had ears.

"I do. Shall I put him on the lookout for Lord Eisen?" Park asked, his brow furrowing.

"If you would be so kind, but nothing official, mind." Seokjin felt the weight of impending doom settle over him like a shroud.

Jimin nodded in understanding, murmuring, "Of course."

"And cousin, will you stand as my second on the morrow?" Seokjin's heart raced at the thought of what was to come.

Namjoon slapped a heavy hand on Seokjin's shoulder, the gesture grounding him. "You needn't ask, my friend. I should be honored to watch you knock some sense into the man."

Y/N sat at her dressing table, her maid working diligently to pin up her hair. As she gazed at her reflection, the visage staring back was a stranger, a ghost of the girl she once was. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, dry and weary, the dark smudges beneath them growing more pronounced, shadows of a soul haunted by secrets.

The day after the ball had stretched on in suffocating isolation, each hour dragging like a lead weight. She preferred the company of her book of prayers, each line a refuge from the storm brewing outside her door. It was far better than facing the ire of her father, who would surely unleash a torrent of censure and berating upon her head.

She had attempted to explain the events with Lord Eisen, how Lord Rushmore's was more the hero than the villain in this twisted tale, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. Ignoring her mother’s advice to stay on the terrace, she had strolled with Lord Eisen, allowing the specter of scandal to wrap its cold fingers around her throat.

Her mother had nearly succumbed to a fit of vapors upon hearing the details. The tips of her father’s waxed moustache twitched with barely suppressed rage, while Anthony, her brother, remained frighteningly silent. Once home, she had been ushered into her father’s study for a thorough dressing down, sent to her room like a recalcitrant child.

With a final pin, her maid bobbed a curtsy and exited Y/N’s bedchamber, leaving her in a silence thick enough to suffocate. Lady Y/L/N had dispatched her own maid with orders for Y/N to don her most modest day gown and report to the formal parlor. With trepidation, she slipped into a simple, light blue frock that covered her to her collarbones, devoid of any embellishments. Her hair twisted into a knot, soft waves framing her face, a fragile semblance of grace.

She took her time nibbling on toast, each bite a reminder of the world outside her door, where shadows danced with whispers of her impending fate. Checking her appearance once more, she steeled herself and made her way to the parlor.

There, she found her mother waiting for her, worry etched into every line of her refined features. Lady Y/L/N had once been a beauty, but the years had wrought their toll, drawing tight the skin around her eyes and pursing her lips into a thin line.

"Good morning, Mother," Y/N said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her mother’s cheek, the contact feeling more like a farewell than a greeting.

"Your father is speaking to the Earl of Rushmore. I suggest you prepare yourself for his offer. You’ll be the luckiest girl of the season if he does what is proper and expected."

Stunned, Y/N felt her heart drop into the abyss of despair. This was only her second season, and she was barely prepared for the storm brewing on the horizon. Marriage? To a man she hardly knew, with a reputation as murky as the depths of a shadowy lake?

"Mother, I cannot marry him. I do not even know him. I—"

"Do not entertain any notion of rebellion, Y/N. If he offers, you shall accept. It is the only way to salvage your reputation, which is, at this moment, in tatters after your comfortable coze in Lady Min’s garden." Her mother's voice was sharp, laced with urgency.

"But I... I had hoped to have some kind of affection for the man I married." Her voice trailed off, nearly swallowed by the silence, as tears threatened to spill over.

The rustle of her mother’s voluminous skirts approached, and she felt the settee dip as Lady Y/L/N sat beside her, a gentle finger lifting Y/N’s chin. Their eyes met, and in that moment, she saw the weight of her mother’s own sacrifices reflected back at her.

"My child, I wish it were possible for us all to marry for love. But circumstances dictate otherwise. If you do not accept Lord Rushmore's, your prospects of a good match will vanish. And there are far worse fates than becoming a countess, don't you think?"

As if summoned by fate, the door swung open, and a footman announced Lord Rushmore's and Lord Y/L/N, their arrival heralded like the final note of a dissonant chord.

"My lady, if you will accompany me, there are a few matters we must attend to," her father said, glancing at her mother with a look that brooked no argument. "Y/N, the Earl has a matter of utmost importance to discuss with you."

The footman closed the door, sealing her in a cage of expectation with Lord Rushmore's.

He was breathtakingly handsome, a figure draped in a dark brown topcoat, gold embroidery catching the dim light like whispers of wealth and power. Beneath it, a tan waistcoat clung to him, a gold watch fob glinting like a promise—or a threat. The crisp, white linen neckcloth, simply knotted, was elegant against his throat, while breeches hugged his thighs sinfully until they disappeared into polished boots, a facade of civility masking the predator within.

It seemed that Seokjin had made a valiant attempt to bring order to his hair, but it had either been ruffled by his own restless hands or simply refused to be tamed, a wild, untamed creature defying all attempts at restraint. If one were to judge solely by his disheveled appearance, one might assume he had just rolled out of bed, a thought that sent Y/N's mind spiraling into a frenzy of embarrassment and shame. What was she doing, allowing herself to entertain such visions of him in her most private moments?

As she cataloged his tousled locks and haphazard attire, she caught him doing the very same, his eyes roving over her like a thief scouting for hidden treasures. Suddenly, she felt exposed, vulnerable before this man whose presence filled the room with an unsettling energy. She ducked her head, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth, unable to find a single word to break the silence.

"Miss Y/L/N, I … How do you fare?" His voice was hesitant, laced with a nervous edge that made her heart race.

She glanced up just in time to see him pinch his eyes shut, as if steeling himself against a tempest of emotions.

"I am as fine as can be expected," she replied, her words feeling hollow in the charged atmosphere.

"Yes, well. To the matter at hand, then." He cleared his throat, the sound echoing like a distant thunderclap, and positioned himself in front of her, a statue of formal propriety. "Your father and I have discussed the situation, and I am prepared to offer you the protection of my name. I should have exercised more discretion at the ball, and for that, I apologize."

His hands clasped behind his back, his tone dripping with cold formality, the chill of icicles punctuating his every syllable. This was not the vibrant man she had encountered amidst the chaos of the ball. No, this was a figure of duty, an automaton wrapped in layers of ice, and she hated him for it.

"The protection of your name?" she echoed, her voice trembling slightly. "And what exactly would that mean?" She widened her eyes, feigning innocence, though she was no naive girl fresh from the nursery. She understood that marriage in their society came with varying degrees of commitment, some more binding than others.

His forehead wrinkled as he coughed, the sound a harsh rasp, before he paced toward the fireplace. Leaning on the mantle, he turned his gaze toward her, and she stood frozen in place, her spine straightening, shoulders squared, meeting his eyes with an intensity that seemed to draw the very air from the room.

"You would be my wife," he said, words flowing from him like a river, cold and unyielding. "The Countess of Rushmore. You would receive a generous allowance to purchase whatever you desire, and any scandal that may have tongues wagging today would practically disappear once we are wed."

"Do you wish to marry me?" The question escaped her lips before she could cage it, catching him off guard, a momentary flicker of surprise crossing his handsome face.

"Of course I do. I feel immensely… protective of you. I care a great deal for you." His eyes bore into hers, but she sensed a wall between them, one built on duty rather than desire.

"And is there anyone else for whom you care a great deal?" The words trembled on her tongue, and she felt the atmosphere thicken, charged with unspoken truths.

"I beg your pardon, but I don’t follow," he replied, brow furrowing in confusion.

She twisted her fingers together, summoning every ounce of courage as she faced the specter of societal norms that haunted her thoughts. "Do you support a… a mistress?" The word slipped out in a whisper, the weight of it heavy as it filled the space between them. She glanced up and saw his eyes widen, then quickly cast her gaze down, words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I do not believe I could stand such an arrangement. I would rather be a ruined woman and marry a nobody and live in the country for the rest of my life than to share a husband with another woman." Her voice faded into nothing, grounded firmly in the floorboards beneath her.

"I do not have a mistress," he replied, the certainty in his voice like a lifeline. "Once we are wed, I will remain faithful to you and you alone. You have nothing to worry about on that score."

Relief washed over her for a fleeting moment before the weight of his words sank in. If he had no mistress, then he would expect a marriage that was not just a façade but a binding of souls, in name and in deed. She swallowed thickly and nodded, her heart a tumultuous storm of fear and longing.

"Y/N," he began, then hesitated, as if the weight of her name held more gravity than he anticipated. "May I call you Y/N?"

"Yes, my lord."

He had moved closer, now standing directly in front of her, the space between them charged with a palpable energy. "Will you call me Seokjin?" he asked, his voice dropping to a soothing tenor that wrapped around her insides like a warm embrace, calming the quivering nerves.

Tentatively, she peeked up from beneath her eyelashes, finding his gaze steady, a promise held within its depths. She nodded, a silent acceptance.

"Very well. Y/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" His words, heavy with intent, settled over her like a shroud.

"Yes, Seokjin. I will marry you."

In that moment, as the promise hung in the air, she felt the world shift beneath her, a groundless fear mingling with an unexpected thrill. What lay ahead was shrouded in shadows, and yet, she found herself stepping forward into the unknown, hand in hand with a man who, in this moment, could be both her salvation and her doom.

It had been two days since the boxing match with Y/N, a brutal affair that had gone better than Seokjin had dared to hope. Anthony had landed only a single glancing blow to his jaw, leaving a faint bruise that shadowed his skin like a lingering ghost. But the rest of him was a veritable tapestry of pain—blues and purples smeared across his torso, greens and yellows blooming like grotesque flowers. He had given as good as he got, though, and after twelve grueling rounds, Gentleman Jackson had declared the contest a tie. Both men had stood, panting and bloodied, a testament to their resilience and foolishness.

As he climbed into the high-perch phaeton, wincing at the pressure on his bruised ribs, he took the reins from his tiger. Concealing his injuries from Y/N would be no easy feat. The drive to the Y/L/N home was filled with thoughts that gnawed at him like a persistent rat. He couldn’t shake the notion that he had unwittingly fallen into a parson’s mousetrap, the kind of snare that snapped shut when you least expected it.

It wasn’t exactly a shock that Y/N had accepted his proposal. Had she not, London would have turned into a bleak wasteland for her and her family, the whispers of scandal echoing like a funeral dirge. No, the real surprise was the absence of panic that usually clawed at him like a feral animal. He felt no urge to flee, no desire to escape as he had with every other prospective bride. Not even the promise of fidelity had made him balk. Instead, he felt an unsettling calm settle over him, a strange sort of acceptance.

But one thing did trouble him: the absence of Lord Eisen. The man who had wronged Y/N had become a phantom, slipping through the cracks of society’s brittle façade. Seokjin felt a duty to call the villain to account for his behavior, and if an apology was not forthcoming, a duel would have to suffice—a duel to defend her honor, the stakes set high against the backdrop of the London social season.

To his surprise, Y/N was ready only moments after he entered the foyer. His feet seemed to sprout roots, anchoring him to the spot as he watched her descend the staircase. She wore a fashionable lemon-colored dress that clung to her slim waist, the kind of style that screamed sophistication, while her straw bonnet was adorned with a delicate spray of white and yellow flowers. Yet, despite the beauty of the scene, her smile was an unsettling mask—forced, like a stage actor trying desperately to remember their lines.

Perhaps she was not as pleased with her lot as she ought to be. Wasn’t every young woman supposed to dream of snagging a peer for a husband? Seokjin didn’t think himself a hardship to look at, and he had promised her generosity. It left him genuinely perplexed at the cloudiness of her demeanor, like storm clouds brewing overhead. He would have to suss her out during their drive.

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N. You are as lovely as a summer day,” he said, taking her gloved hand and pressing his lips to it, a gesture that felt both tender and fraught with unspoken tension.

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, that delicious blush creeping into her cheeks, bright as the dawn.

“Have you driven in a phaeton before?” he inquired, trying to gauge her mood, the air thick with an undercurrent of something he couldn't quite name.

“No, I have not. Is it terribly high?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“The highest,” he grinned, tucking her hand through his arm, the warmth of her presence grounding him amidst his swirling thoughts.

They crept along Rotten Row, the most fashionable hour for seeing and being seen. Nods and exchanges flitted between them like whispers in a crowded theater, laughter and gossip hanging heavy in the air. Park and Halston stopped to chat, their words a playful torment that turned Seokjin’s ears to fire. To her credit, Y/N managed to handle his friends with a practiced expertise, her demure laughter a welcome balm.

But as they parted ways, an open barouche approached, filled with the resident dragons of the beau monde—women so high in the instep they would snub even their own kin if it threatened their standing. Seokjin braced himself, prepared for the cut direct that would slice through the pretense of civility. He turned on his most charming smile, tipping the brim of his hat to them, a mask of confidence. To his relief, they nodded at him and Y/N, their plumed hats bobbing like strange birds pecking for seeds, momentarily offering her the protection that came with his name.

He directed the phaeton down a less congested avenue, glancing at his fiancée. “I’ve acquired a special license to marry. I thought this Friday would give you enough time to have your maid pack your things and deliver them to my home. Is that enough time for you to prepare?”

Her gaze drifted, unfocused as she twirled her parasol in lazy circles, caught somewhere between anticipation and anxiety. “Yes. I believe that will be enough time. Mother has a modiste working ‘round the clock, but my gown should be ready by then.” A laugh erupted from her, bright but edged with a hint of disbelief. “The poor woman nearly fell over herself for the privilege of making the new Countess of Kim’s wedding dress.” Her voice trailed off, shyness washing over her as if she had stepped into a cold river. “We’ll be going to Bond Street tomorrow for my other bride clothes, so there is little else for me to assemble.”

He was disarmed by her effortless humility, the sincerity of her words only adding to her appeal, like a faint light in the darkness.

“Do you have any opinion on the location? Somewhere small and private, perhaps?”

Had this been a typical courtship, he would have expected them to reserve St. George’s in Hanover Square, the kind of place where fashionable ton weddings occurred. His mother would’ve insisted upon it, a parade of acquaintances, all eager to witness the spectacle. But this was no ordinary wedding; it was a necessity—a desperate plea for normalcy in a world that felt increasingly chaotic. A smaller chapel would better serve their needs, he thought, yet he couldn’t shake the sense that their union was more than just a formality.

“Whatever you think best,” she said, her voice flat, as if she were reading from a script that had long lost its meaning.

Seokjin snapped the reins, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silence that enveloped them. He tried to ignore the unease pooling in his gut, still grappling with the enigma of Y/N’s enthusiasm—or lack thereof. Just then, the wheels on his side of the phaeton jolted over a substantial pothole, and Y/N slammed into him, the impact hard enough to make the breath hiss from his lungs.

The sudden gasp nearly made him curse, but he swallowed it down, letting his hand drift to the bruised ribs that throbbed beneath his shirt. “I’m terribly sorry, my lo—Seokjin. I didn’t think I jarred you so.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I… I’m just careless with the ribbons,” he replied, teeth clenched like a vice.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, as if she were trying to decipher a foreign language. He waved away her concern, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Why do you seem so displeased with our arrangement?”

She sighed, her mouth curving downward, eyes fixated on something far beyond the horizon. “It’s rather silly, really.”

“Nothing important to you is silly,” he countered, slowing the horses until they came to a stop beneath a canopy of fragrant trees, their leaves whispering secrets to one another. He turned to face her fully, heart hammering like a ticking time bomb.

“I suppose I just feel… very inexperienced.”

“Shall we try and remedy that, my darling?” He took her hand, cradling it gently as if it were something fragile, something that might shatter at the slightest misstep.

“Whatever do you mean?” Her voice dropped to a whisper that danced over him, sparking warmth in the chill air, stirring something deep within his chest.

“May I try something?”

She blinked, once, twice, the uncertainty in her gaze unraveling him. “Yes?”

He leaned closer, slowly, carefully, as if drawing nearer to a wild creature, waiting for it to either flee or surrender. Patience enveloped them, thick and electric, rekindling that tension from the ball, drawing them together like moths to a flickering flame.

When her eyes fluttered shut, he crossed the distance and pressed his lips to hers. It was a gentle exploration, soft and hesitant, the taste of sweetness enveloping him like a shroud. Her rigid posture melted against him, a warmth spreading through his veins. He relished the sound of her breath hitching, the quiet gasps of surprise that filled the air like a prayer.

But reality loomed, a footman lurking at the back of the phaeton, the world of Hyde Park still swirling around them. He savored the way her hands clung to his biceps, the way she leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable.

As their kiss lingered, he pulled back, heart racing, and squeezed her hands gently. “Despite what you may have heard of my reputation, I want you to be happy. It’s my foremost pursuit. You’ve come to mean the world to me, Y/N. Once we are wed, I hope you will let me court you properly.”

She bit her lip, turning her face just enough to hide a smile beneath the brim of her bonnet. “That sounds lovely.”

A week passed—an entire week!—since their wedding, and Seokjin had done nothing more than kiss her lightly before she retreated to her separate bedchamber. Days melted into one another in their Mayfair townhouse, filled with light conversation about likes and dislikes, books, and the shifting tides of politics. Each night, he would escort her to her door, kiss her as one might kiss a sibling, and disappear into the silence of his own room.

Y/N had mentally prepared herself for the duty all wives were expected to perform, and the absence of that first night stung like a phantom limb. With each passing day, her fondness for Seokjin grew—perhaps even love—but every time he sent her to bed alone felt like a deeper wound, a rejection wrapped in tenderness.

Staring at the heavy brocaded tapestries above her, she fumed, a tempest brewing in her chest. Enough was enough. She threw off the covers, slipped into her dressing gown, and marched through the hushed rooms until she found his. His valet must have retired, for the air was thick with stillness and the promise of secrets.

Without so much as a knock, she flung open the door to his bedroom and halted. There he stood, just out of reach of the fire’s glow, a vision of raw masculinity with one hand resting on the counterpane of his bed. Her breath caught in her throat, captivated by the lean muscles of his back, the dimples above his shapely behind. But then she saw the shadows—fading bruises that painted his torso like a cruel map of his suffering.

“Good Lord,” she gasped, horror mingling with concern. “What happened to you?”

His shoulders slumped as he shrugged into his dressing gown, the fabric whispering secrets against his skin. He approached her, tying the sash, hands sliding into the pockets like a man trying to hide the evidence of his pain.

“It’s nothing, my sweet. Please don’t concern yourself.”

“Is this why you have not touched me since our wedding?”

“I didn’t want you to see me in such a battered state. If I were to do more than kiss you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

“What happened?”

“An overly enthusiastic sparring partner at Jackson’s boxing saloon.”

Timidly, she spread open the top of his gown. Her heart raced as she traced her fingers over his bruised skin, circling the marks of violence like a moth drawn to a flame. “Who was your partner?”

“I… can’t say as—”

“Please be honest with me. I cannot abide liars.”

He paused, gaze shifting from her eyes to the floor. “It was your brother,” he confessed, the weight of his words pressing down like an anvil.

“And he is the one who gave you the bruise here, I suppose?” Her fingers brushed against the stubble on his jaw, memories of their earlier kiss flooding back, tainted now by the knowledge of violence.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He felt the need to defend your honor. I was the only target available.”

Her grip tightened on his lapels, a surge of anger coursing through her veins. “How positively stupid! You had already offered for me, and I had accepted. Why would you let him pummel you so?”

His soothing voice gripped her, but she wanted no part of it. She stepped away, feeling sick, as if the world had spun off its axis. “And what good would that do? Will you beat him into unconsciousness?”

He winced, a sheepish smile flickering across his face like the dying light of a sunset. “Will you challenge him to a duel?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. When he said nothing, her breath hitched, and she gasped, “You would leave me a widow less than a month after our wedding? A marriage we haven’t even consummated?”

His eyes flared like flames licking at dry wood, and he stepped forward, closing the distance between them in one swift motion. His hands gripped her arms, pulling her face to his, their noses almost touching. “Don’t for a second think, Y/N, that I don’t want to consummate our marriage. I’ve burned for you since the moment we crossed that threshold as husband and wife.”

Then, in a rush, his lips crashed against hers, an urgent storm of desire. His hands slipped from her arms, gliding over her shoulders, up her neck, cupping her face with a tenderness that belied the tempest brewing within him. He kissed her, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh along her neck, each brush of his mouth a brush against the very core of her being.

Dizzy, she felt their bodies meld together, pressed tightly from knees to chest, sensations swirling like a maelstrom. When his lips reached her ear, he whispered, “It’s a matter of honor,” and with that simple phrase, she snapped back to reality, the haze of desire dissipating like fog in the morning sun.

“Go then,” she said, her voice sharp as a knife, pushing away from him. “Seek your satisfaction, but do not come to me. I could not bear it if I gave you my entire self only to have you killed over something so trivial now. Y/N Y/L/N is no more; only Lady Y/N Kim, Countess of Rushmore, remains, a woman of standing, one of the most sought-after guests in London.”

With that, she turned and fled to her chamber, locking the doors behind her as if sealing away the chaos of her heart. She collapsed onto her bed, sobbing until her tears ran dry, feeling the weight of her world pressing down upon her.

Seokjin waited for over an hour, but she did not join him in the breakfast parlor. He could feel her vexation in the air, thick and heavy, like a summer storm hanging just before the downpour. If only she could understand how her honor intertwined with his own, how he could not simply walk away from the challenge that had been laid before him.

The prospect of a duel with Eisen loomed, but Seokjin preferred other avenues to address the scoundrel's transgressions. He was ready to confront the man, but only if words failed. Until then, he could only wait, his heart heavy with concern and unspoken words.

He left the door to his study open, hoping to hear the sound of her footsteps. The empty fireplace crackled softly, but the only thing he could focus on was the gnawing worry about her silence. Just then, his butler knocked and announced Lord Whitmore’s arrival.

Seokjin rose to greet his friend, who brushed aside the butler’s offer to take his coat and hat.

“I don’t believe I shall tarry long, Forbes, but thank you,” Lord Whitmore said, glancing at Seokjin with a look that could only be described as appraising.

“Morning, Park. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You look terrible, Kim. Is the little wife not pleasing you?”

“Speak another word on that subject, and you may find yourself missing a few teeth,” Seokjin growled, tension flooding his veins.

“Easy, friend. I have other news. Eisen’s been spotted.”

At the mention of the man’s name, Seokjin felt his entire body tense, a primal instinct surging through him, the urge to fight. He flexed his fingers, pacing the length of the room. “Where? Has he returned home?”

“No, he was seen last night at a gaming hell near Covent Garden.”

“Your Bow Street friend is tailing him, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“Then what are we doing standing around woolgathering?”

When they found Jonathon Bartlett, Viscount Eisen, he lay slumped over the gaming table, still dazed from the previous night's indulgences. The weary proprietor explained how he’d tried to send the viscount home, but Eisen had threatened violence if anyone laid a hand on him. It went without saying that the authorities weren’t called in, given the establishment’s questionable legality. But that didn’t deter Seokjin; he was resolute in seeking justice for his wife.

“Lord Eisen, I would like a word with you.”

The viscount lifted his head, eyes bloodshot and watering, about to lay it back down when comprehension finally broke through the fog of drink clouding his mind. “Rushmore? Is that you? Poor sot you are, shackled to a fish like her,” he began to laugh, but before he could rise, he slumped back down, surrendering to the inebriation that held him captive.

“You behaved in a most heinous way toward my wife, Eisen,” Seokjin said, his voice steady as granite, muscles taut like a bowstring. He stood with his arms braced on the table, the weight of his indignation anchoring him against the crude laughter of the man before him.

Eisen leaned back, his arrogance filling the space like stale smoke. “You see, Rushmore,” he continued, as if Seokjin’s words were mere whispers against the roar of his own hubris, “it’s not good form to take the chit astride you in plain view of her papa. One must be smarter about these things. At least I had the decency to carry her off to a nice, dark corner of the garden for some real fun.”

“Eisen, I warn you—”

“Doesn’t she have the creamiest thighs you’ve ever seen? A right shame she had to ruin everything by carrying on like a hellcat. What I would give to sink into th—”

In the heartbeat it took for the air to thicken with tension, Lord Rushmore's fist connected with Eisen’s nose, a sickening crunch echoing through the room as the viscount crumpled to the floor, blood spilling like a crimson secret onto the polished wood.

Seokjin would have launched himself atop the man, would have rained down blows until his fury found satisfaction, had it not been for Jimin’s firm hands grasping his shoulders, holding him back like a rabid dog on a leash.

Jonathon, now upright but wobbling, wiped the blood from his face, confusion mingling with rage. “What the devil are you playing at, Rushmore?”

“You will apologize to Lady Rushmore.”

“She barely got what she deserved, the tease. Making eyes and overtures all night, then turning into a proper little prudish thing…”

Seokjin slowly removed his leather gloves, peeling them off with a deliberate precision that bespoke his simmering wrath. He straightened each finger, each gesture methodical, before slapping the gloves across Eisen’s face, satisfaction blooming within him as he noted the three pink scars Y/N had left on the viscount’s cheek.

Eisen let out a sick, hysterical bark of laughter. “You’re challenging me, then?”

Seokjin remained a statue, unyielding.

“What’s it to be? Another bout of fisticuffs at Jackson’s? I assure you, I won’t spare your pretty face like the Y/L/N lad did.”

“Pistols, tomorrow at dawn. Who is your second?”

Eisen narrowed his eyes, scanning the growing crowd in the club with a predator’s focus. “Lord Alec Winters,” he replied, a cold gleam dancing in his gaze.

“Lord Halston will be in contact with him to determine the field of honor. Good day.”

As they mounted their horses, Lord Whitmore turned to Seokjin, his expression grave and weighted with concern. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“What’s done is done,” Seokjin replied, each word heavy with the inevitability of consequence. “I cannot recall the challenge without appearing a coward.”

“Very well, my lord. I shall stand at your side with Halston.”

Seokjin spent the rest of the day cloistered in his study, though hiding would be a more accurate term. Y/N was noticeably absent when he returned home after issuing his challenge. The butler had handed him a note stating that his wife was spending the day with her particular friends, Ladies Jeon and Jung, but it made no mention of when she would return.

He ate his meal alone, the silence in the room amplifying the thrum of his thoughts, before returning once more to the sanctuary of his study. After pouring himself a generous glass of port, he opened the case that held his dueling pistols. He examined the moving parts, ensuring everything was in proper working order, the metallic tang of the weapons grounding him amidst the swirling chaos in his mind.

It was well after dark when he heard her voice echo through the foyer. “Is Lord Rushmore's at home?” she asked, her tone light but edged with something he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yes, my lady. He is in the study,” came the butler’s formal reply.

“Thank you, Forbes. That will be all.”

Before he could consider the implications of the pistols laid out on his desk, she appeared in the doorway, her presence a sharp contrast to the darkness of the room.

“Seokjin, I just wanted to…” Her voice faded as her gaze fell on the dueling pistols, an expressionless veneer sliding over her features like a heavy curtain. “I just wanted to let you know I was home.”

“Y/N…”

“Goodnight, Seokjin.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, as she turned and left, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed like a gunshot in the night.

She couldn’t sleep a wink. The moment she’d spotted the gleaming pistols on Seokjin’s desk, nausea twisted in her stomach like a coiled snake. All night, she lay in the dark, listening for any sound from his bedchamber, but there was nothing. The silence stretched, oppressive and thick, until her unease multiplied, leaving her trembling, a leaf caught in an unforgiving wind.

In the pre-dawn darkness, she lit a single candle, its flickering flame casting long shadows as she made her way to the kitchen, seeking a biscuit or something to settle her roiling stomach. But as she crept into the dimly lit space, her heart plummeted when she overheard Forbes speaking to Mrs. Cope, the housekeeper.

“He’s goin’ through with that bloody duel?” Mrs. Cope’s voice dripped with concern, thick as treacle.

“It would seem so,” Forbes replied, his tone grave.

“The poor girl,” Mrs. Cope continued, her voice low, “she was so out of sorts yesterday, and just when I thought they were beginnin’ to warm up to each other…”

Madness. Absolute madness. How could she sit idly by, waiting for news that might shatter her world, wondering if her husband lay dead in a field of honor? Clearing her throat, she startled the two servants. “Forbes, please have a footman saddle my horse.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, but he schooled his features, nodding with a single, curt motion.

“And when you’re done with him, bring him here and I’ll box his ears,” Mrs. Cope added with a wink, a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

Y/N knew the housekeeper had cared for Seokjin since he was a lad of seventeen, just stepping into the world as an Earl after his father’s death. She’d watched Mrs. Cope fuss over him like a second mother, a bond forged in years of loyalty and affection.

“You can count on it, to be sure, Mrs. Cope,” Y/N promised, her resolve hardening.

She rushed back to her chamber, dressing in her riding habit without a moment’s thought for her maid. Tying her hair into a simple queue, she ignored the elaborate hats hanging in her dressing room, knowing they would do little to comfort her.

Forbes held the door open, and as she passed, he murmured, “Hyde Park, just north of the Serpentine.”

“Thank you, Forbes,” she replied, determination coursing through her veins.

The groom helped her into the side-saddle, and she urged her horse into a slow trot until she found her seat. Then she pressed the beast into a gallop, the wind whipping around her face as the world blurred by. The gray mist of foreboding cloaked the park, but she pressed on toward the bridge, morning light peeking over the horizon, the air crisp and biting.

As she crossed the bridge, her heart raced at the sight of a gathering of gentlemen, tension crackling in the air. Two men stood poised to fire, and she could faintly hear Lord Halston calling out, “Ready. Aim. Fire!”

Time slowed as she careened toward the group, her voice piercing the morning hush. “NO!” But it was too late; the shots rang out, echoing in her ears like the toll of a death knell.

She leapt from her horse, barreling through the crowd of men, her heart pounding like a war drum. “Seokjin!” she called, desperation clawing at her throat as she broke through the front line. Lord Eisen stood to her left, his pistol still raised, confusion painted across his face. To her right, she saw Seokjin, his arm raised to the sky, expression a tempest of fury and concern.

“I am satisfied,” he declared, his voice steady despite the chaos, “Let it be known that Lord Eisen is a debaucher of innocence and a dishonorable blackguard.” He lowered his pistol, striding toward her with purpose.

But before he could reach her, another gunshot shattered the stillness, a sharp crack in the fragile morning. Horror twisted in her gut as Seokjin howled in pain, crumpling to the ground, blood blooming like dark petals through the fabric of his breeches. Disapproving murmurs erupted from the gathered crowd, a cacophony of gasps and curses directed at Lord Eisen.

Her focus narrowed to Seokjin, writhing on the ground as blood seeped from his wound. She fell to her knees, hands trembling as they fluttered over his injured leg.

“Stay back, Y/N, this is no place for you,” he gritted out, his voice strained with pain. “Park, take her back home.”

“No. I’m not leaving. I can help.”

“Dammit, woman, why will you not do as I say?”

“Because I love you!” she shouted, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. “And I won’t leave your side.” She cupped his sweat-dampened cheek, searching his eyes for any sign of hope. “Lord Whitmore, is there a physician present?” she asked, desperation lacing her voice, unwilling to tear her gaze from Seokjin.

“Here, my lady. I’ll just see to binding the wound,” a gray-haired gentleman replied, a black satchel slung over his shoulder.

Seokjin threw his head back on the grass, a roar of agony ripping from his throat. “Be quick about it. I’m not sure how much longer I can remain conscious!”

Once the physician bound his leg, Park and Halston helped Seokjin into the doctor’s carriage, then Park handed Y/N inside, her heart hammering with fear as they made their way home, Seokjin’s head resting on her lap, his warmth a fragile reminder of life.

When they arrived at Kim House, Halston administered copious amounts of brandy until Seokjin was thoroughly foxed, the alcohol dulling the edges of his pain.

The doctor worked efficiently, extracting the bullet with practiced hands, though he was the recipient of a lengthy string of vitriol from the Earl. “Curse you, Eisen!” Seokjin spat, his voice thick with indignation. The doctor promised to return the following day to check the dressing and promptly exited the room.

Y/N remained at Seokjin’s side, mopping his forehead with a cool cloth, his features a pale shadow of their usual vigor. He was insensible from both the liquor and the laudanum, yet he managed to crack his eyes open, a flicker of recognition igniting within.

“Did you mean it?” he asked, voice slurred yet filled with an urgency that made her heart leap.

“Why was your pistol raised when I arrived?” She couldn’t help but question, a mix of fear and frustration welling within her.

“I shot into the air,” he scowled, eyes narrowing. “The cur wasn’t worth even a single bullet.” He paused, searching her gaze with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “Did you mean what you said? That you love me?”

“Yes, you ridiculously honorable man. I love you,” she confessed, her heart swelling with the truth of her words.

“As I love you,” he replied, his voice softer, a gentle lullaby beneath the tumult of the day. “’Tis why I had to confront him the way I did.” His words were heavy with sleep, yet fervent as though each syllable was an anchor in the storm.

“Well, you’re going to have to come up with a different way of expressing it. I don’t think I could bear to see you… For a moment, I thought you were dead.” The weight of those words pressed down on her, a chill creeping through her veins.

“I shall never leave your side again, my love.” His voice softened, eyes fluttering closed, his breathing slowing like the ebb of the tide.

For a heartbeat, she thought he had finally succumbed to sleep, but then she felt the gentle pressure of his hand around hers, a tether that bound them even amidst the shadows, a promise whispered in the dark.

"I fear I shall be a useless husband for the next several weeks until the wound is well on its way to healing." Seokjin's gaze pierced through her, an intensity lurking behind his words that took her a moment to grasp.

A rush of crimson crept up her neck, and she quickly averted her gaze. “Don’t be vulgar. It is far too early in the morning for such talk.”

"I will require a great deal of nursing and special care, you know." His voice was a teasing whisper, laced with something more primal that made her heart race.

"Yes, the doctor explained what would need to be done. I shall take extra special care of you, my lord," she replied, tracing a delicate finger over the smattering of hair on his chest, the softness of the moment shattered by the storm brewing beneath the surface.

"Vixen," he murmured, eyes fluttering shut, a smile playing on his lips. "These next weeks will be torture."

"I do hope so," she shot back, her tone teasing but edged with sincerity. "Perhaps next time you won’t be so quick to engage in something as foolish as this."

She leaned in, pressing her lips to his, the kiss igniting a warmth that spread through them both. Seokjin’s hand found the back of her neck, holding her gently in place as he feasted on her mouth, nibbling and sucking, each sigh from him a reminder of the thin line between pleasure and pain.

With a soft thud, his head dropped back onto the pillow, and he looked deeply into her eyes. “When my leg has healed, the first order of business will be to see to the matter of an heir for the Earldom.”

“Agreed,” she whispered, lying down next to him on the bed for the first time, a sense of gravity settling over them.

Meanwhile, Lord Rushmore stood with his hands casually clasped behind his back, watching a stable boy lead a striking pair of chestnut horses around the yard at Tattersalls. He had no real intention of acquiring any new horseflesh; he had simply agreed to meet Lords Park and Halston there, his mind elsewhere, adrift in thoughts of a summer retreat at Willow Hill, his country estate.

It had been an arduous month, the wound inflicted by Lord Eisen a constant reminder of his vulnerability. Kim hated being an invalid, but Y/N’s determined care was a salve to his wounded pride, particularly when she offered to help him bathe. Yet now, as he was finally cleared to bear weight on his injured leg, her shyness returned, casting a pall over the intimacy they had shared.

“Kim!” Namjoon’s voice cut through his reverie, yanking him back to the present.

“How goes it, Halston?” Seokjin asked, forcing a smile.

“Well, very well. And how does the livestock look?” Namjoon’s tone was light, masking the concern lurking just beneath.

Seokjin circled the courtyard, moving smoothly as Namjoon trailed slowly behind.

“Still walking like you’ve got a dry stick in your boot instead of a leg, I see?” Lord Whitmore called from behind, his friendly jab punctuating the air.

Seokjin turned, a rueful grin tugging at his lips. He had long since stopped limping, yet the familiar teasing felt like a balm, a reminder of their shared camaraderie.

Jimin stepped up beside Seokjin, tilting his head slightly. “They’re preparing the gallows at Newgate,” he said, his voice low, the gravity of his words palpable.

“I see,” Seokjin replied, his brow furrowing. “And has your Bow Street source heard anything that would be of particular interest to me?”

Jimin shook his head, frustration evident. “He wasn’t able to get a look at the list of condemned.”

“After shooting you in the leg and then strangling his new bride to death, it would serve him right to dance upon nothing. I shudder when I think of the reports that were given as to her physical condition before death. The man is a monster.” Namjoon’s voice grew impassioned, his anger simmering just below the surface. He despised violence against women, a sentiment that burned hotter with each word. “If I had the chance, I’d dispatch Eisen with my bare hands.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Seokjin replied, the heat of righteous indignation flaring in his chest. “Though I must admit, it would take Herculean effort to prevent a towering rage from overcoming me if I were to find Y/N with another man—and in the very act, no less.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to protest, but Seokjin raised a hand. “No, friend, I understand. Her dalliance certainly did not merit her death. If Eisen is to be hanged, he has certainly earned his fate.”

The three stood in a tense silence as the auctioneer began the bidding on a black thoroughbred racehorse, the tension in the air palpable.

“Halston, are you bidding today?” Jimin asked, his voice light, yet curiosity tinged his tone.

Namjoon’s brows pinched together, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t seen anything that strikes my fancy.”

“Shall we be off to Park’s, then?” Jimin’s brow rose expectantly, glancing between Namjoon and Seokjin.

“Not for me, lads. I must see to a few last-minute preparations before we leave for Willow Hill.”

They strolled a short distance away from Tattersalls, where Seokjin’s coach awaited.

“We shall join you in a week’s time,” Namjoon said, a promise hanging in the air.

“I look forward to a few weeks in the country,” Seokjin replied, a smile creeping onto his lips despite the heavy weight of recent events. “Though I daresay this house party will be quite different from those of past years, with Lady Rushmore now leading you about by the nose.” Jimin chuckled, nudging Namjoon with his elbow, their shared mirth a small reprieve from the shadows of their reality. They exchanged a pitying glance with Seokjin, who merely smiled, shaking his head, caught in the bittersweet nature of love, loss, and the unbearable weight of impending fate.

"I'll have you know that in addition to her Mama and Papa, Lady Rushmore has also invited the Jeons and the Jungs. I would not doubt she has matchmaking on the mind." The words tumbled from Seokjin’s mouth, heavy with implication, each syllable dripping with the kind of mischief that hangs thick in the air before a storm.

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head. "The day I fall into a parson's mousetrap, as you did, is the day I shall kick the bucket from under my own feet and take a short drop."

"Ah, my dear Park, there are a great many advantages to having a wife," Seokjin replied, climbing into the carriage, the sound of his voice echoing like a warning bell against the backdrop of laughter and banter.

"Does that mean you're no longer living the life of a monk?" Jimin called after him, his words laced with a teasing edge. As Seokjin gave two swift raps to the roof of the carriage, the laughter of his friends faded, oblivious to the rich tapestry of pleasure that a loving wife waiting at home could weave into a man's life.

The scene that greeted Seokjin upon his arrival home was chaos incarnate. Maids bustled about like frantic bees, arms laden with linens and other household goods, while footmen heaved large trunks and portmanteaus down the stairs, the very air vibrating with urgency.

He nodded as he passed various servants, each one bobbing curtsies or bowing stiffly before resuming their frenetic tasks. But as he reached the top of the stairs, a familiar voice cut through the cacophony—Y/N, directing her maid with a calm authority that belied the frenzy around her.

"I'm afraid I'll need the basin with me inside the coach. Heaven help me if I should cast up my crumpets during the journey. Lord Rushmore's has yet to witness such a distasteful episode. I fear I shall die of mortification if he were to witness such unpleasantness."

A flicker of irritation sparked within Seokjin at the thought of her hiding an illness from him, a dark cloud threatening to obscure his sunny disposition. He had every intention of chastising her for keeping silent about her health, but that resolve evaporated like morning mist when he rounded the corner into their bedroom.

There she was, bent over a valise, sorting through her chemises and nightdresses, a vision of domesticity that stole the breath from his lungs.

The maid was the first to notice him. He raised a finger to his lips and nodded toward the door, signaling his desire for privacy. She nodded once and slipped out, closing the door without so much as a whisper.

Seokjin moved across the room, his footsteps muffled by the plush woven rug beneath him, until he stood directly behind his still-leaning wife.

"Liza, have you already packed my tan kid glo—" He gripped her hips, pulling her backside against him, eliciting a shriek of surprise. When she spun around, he caught her in his arms, her wide eyes a mirror of astonishment.

"Hello, my love."

"Seokjin! How you startled me." She swatted her hand against his chest, but the smile creeping across her lips melted the tension from her flushed features, leaving only warmth in its wake.

"I am sorry for that, but I was loath to interrupt my view of your delightful figure."

He stroked his finger along her cheekbone, which bloomed with a telltale blush. She studied him as he trailed the same finger down her throat and around the back of her neck, delighting in the shivers that coursed through her at his touch. Leaning down, he followed the path with the tip of his nose, stopping momentarily to graze the tender flesh behind her ear with his lips.

"My lord," she whispered, and he felt the weight of that title hang between them like a breathless promise.

"Yes, my lady?"

He continued to kiss and nibble his way across her jaw and up to her lips, savoring the sweet aftertaste of honey that lingered from her tea. She responded with equal enthusiasm, suckling his lower lip and tilting her head for a better angle. After what felt like hours, she finally pulled away, gasping for breath.

"Seokjin, there is too much to do." She leaned away from him, perhaps expecting him to release her, but he tightened his grip around her waist, kissing her again, lost in the moment.

"We have a moment, do we not?" he murmured against her lips, the world outside fading into insignificance.

Suddenly, she stiffened in his arms, and he instinctively relaxed his hold. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened with a dawning horror. He let her go as she rushed to the washstand, emptying the contents of her stomach into the basin.

With purposeful strides, he crossed the room and laid a gentle hand on her back, offering comfort as she heaved, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room. When she was finished, he extended his handkerchief and waited, heart pounding in his chest.

She shuffled to the tea tray, returning to the basin with a cup full of lukewarm tea. Swishing mouthfuls and spitting them back into the basin, she did her best to maintain some semblance of delicacy, but her weariness was palpable.

When she finally turned to face him, the rosy flush had drained from her cheeks, replaced by an ashen pallor that sent a chill through him. How long had she been hiding her illness?

"Must you look at me with such pity?" she asked, setting the teacup down and twisting her hands together, a nervous habit that made his heart ache.

"My sweet, how long have you felt ill? We can postpone our departure until you are well. Everyone coming to Willow Hill will understand." He reached out to caress her cheek, but she turned away from his touch, brushing past him like a ghost.

He watched, concern knitting his brow, as she paced the room, muttering under her breath, a whirlwind of anxiety. Finally, she cast herself onto the bed, curling into a tight ball, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Seokjin was taken aback, concern spiraling into panic at the sudden shift in her demeanor. Every instinct screamed at him to rush to her side, but he remained frozen, captivated by the raw vulnerability laid bare before him.

As if pulled by an unseen string, she sat up, wiping her eyes before their gazes connected, and he felt propelled into action.

He hurriedly knelt in front of her, grasping her hands in his. "What is wrong, Y/N?"

"I did not… It was supposed to be… Oh botheration. I must look a fright." She dabbed the handkerchief at the corners of her eyes, a picture of fragility.

"Should I summon the doctor?" he asked, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of his wife being gravely ill.

The lines of worry etched on her face began to soften, replaced by a look of adoration that made his heart race.

"I have already seen the doctor."

"And what is his diagnosis?" Seokjin’s heart plummeted, a darkness settling over him at the very thought of her suffering.

She wriggled one of her hands free from his grasp—he hadn’t realized he was squeezing her so tightly—and cupped the side of his face with a tenderness that caught him off guard. “I’m afraid you were quite successful in your quest for an heir,” she said, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm.

His brow furrowed as the meaning of her words sunk in, slowly creeping through the fog of his mind like a dark shadow. “Do you mean… I say! Are you—” He sprang to his feet, a surge of exhilaration propelling him to nearly drag Y/N off the bed in his excitement.

“I am increasing, and it is all your fault, you insufferable man! I don’t feel the least bit well, and of course, there’s nothing to be done for it but nibble dry toast when the nausea strikes.” Her voice had a sharp edge to it, yet there was a sparkle in her eyes that ignited something primal within him.

Dropping to his knees, he surrounded her with his arms, resting his head gently against her still-flat abdomen. The thought “I am going to be a father” echoed in his mind, a mantra that swelled until it overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, massaging soothing circles on his scalp, murmuring sweet nothings that drifted like whispers in the night until, finally, she grasped his chin and gently lifted him to his feet. “I wanted to tell you at Willow Hill. The doctor confirmed the pregnancy only this morning.”

“When will it be here?” he asked, his heart pounding like a drum echoing through an empty hall.

“He shall be born in early February.”

He smirked, a wild gleam igniting in his eyes as he led her back to the bed. With a tenderness that seemed to transcend reality, he cradled her in his arms. “You are sure, then, that I have produced an heir for the title of Lord Rushmore’s?” His voice danced with mischief.

“Of course. It is my greatest wish that the lineage for the earldom be secured, but…”

“But what, my darling?”

“What if it is a girl?”

“It gives us all the more reason to practice the arduous task of producing a male heir.” He kissed her soundly as he laid her on the bed, hovering protectively over her, his body a fortress against the world.

“There are still so many things to prepare, Seokjin.”

“Hush, my dear. Let the housekeeper do her job. The world will not fall apart if we steal a few moments of quiet together.”

She pressed herself into his side, and in that fleeting moment, as if they had stolen a slice of eternity, he felt her body relax, her breaths evening into those of a slumbering angel, wrapped in the cocoon of their shared warmth.

The next morning unfolded like a symphony of chaos as the coaches were readied for the departure of the Earl of Rushmore’s household. When Forbes gave the word, Seokjin tucked Y/N’s hand in the crook of his elbow and led her to the carriage. Once she was settled, he followed her in, sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. His gaze flicked nervously to the basin opposite them, stacked with lavender-scented handkerchiefs and towels. He hoped her sickness wouldn’t turn their journey into a nightmare.

The carriage lurched into motion, rattling off through the streets of London, bound for the quieter Hampshire countryside. The sun barely peeked over the rooftops, and the cool breeze whispered secrets through the open windows. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment of calm until Y/N spoke, shattering the fragile peace.

“Seokjin, why are we going in the wrong direction? This is not the road to Hampshire.”

He opened his eyes and sat up straighter, unease coiling in his stomach like a serpent. “I have a small matter of business I need to see to before we leave town.”

She frowned, her brow knitting together in concern. “I thought you took care of all your business yesterday.”

“Yes, well, one other matter came up.”

“I see.”

She shifted away from him, her attention drawn outside. His heart sank as he realized where they were headed. The closer they came to Newgate prison, the more agitated he became, as if an unseen force was tightening around his throat.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, glancing at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Do you not have a book or some kind of embroidery with which to occupy yourself?”

“I fear I would grow ill if I tried to read, and heaven forbid I should attempt any kind of needlecraft. I would most likely end up sticking myself and bleed to death.”

He sighed, defeated by her stubbornness. Minutes ticked by, and the rattling wheels on the cobblestone streets were replaced by the jeers of a growing mob gathering for the hangings.

“Seokjin, why is there such a crowd at this early hour?” Her voice was laced with dread, and he could feel her eyes boring into him, demanding answers he couldn’t provide.

He stood, head bent, shoulders rounded, and leaned over his legs to peer out his window. The prison loomed ahead, and the gallows stood like a grim sentinel against the morning sky.

As they approached, the carriage slowed, stopping some distance from the raised platform, yet they had a perfect view. When the gaoler stood and raised his arms, the crowd fell silent, anticipation crackling in the air like static before a storm.

As he read the names of the condemned and their crimes, a chill crept down Seokjin’s spine. One by one, the hooded figures were brought forth, the nooses cinched around their necks as the crowd hissed and jeered, throwing stones and objects at the prisoners.

“And last we have, Jonathon Bartlett, Viscount Eisen, condemned to hang by the neck until dead for the murder in cold blood of Louis Montford, Marquis of Calais.”

Y/N gasped, scrambling backward into her seat, her breath quickening as panic washed over her like a wave. She waved her hand in front of her face, but that same wide-eyed look of distress he had witnessed the day before seized her. She lunged forward, retching violently into the basin.

Once again, he handed her a clean square of toweling and waited, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest.

“I had heard of the scandal. Lady Min was quite thrilled to share the news with your mother. But… he is not condemned for the death of Lady Eisen?”

Seokjin shook his head, his heart pounding like a war drum. “No. Had he only killed her, he most likely would not be in this position. When he murdered the Marquis in front of his entire household, he sealed his fate.”

Though he glossed over the details for her benefit, the gruesome images of Lord Montford’s lifeless body, throat slit from ear to ear, lingered in his mind like a dark specter. It was damning, to say the least.

Seokjin peered out of the carriage window, the air thick with a tension that prickled at the nape of his neck. It was nearly time.

“Please, Seokjin,” Y/N’s voice quivered, raw with dread. “I can’t bear this. Let’s go.”

He nodded once, the sound of his heart thumping painfully in his chest. With a sharp rap on the carriage's wooden panel, the horses whinnied in response, and the vehicle lurched forward, rattling down the cobbled streets.

As they rounded the corner, the roar of the mob reached a crescendo, a grotesque symphony of triumph and bloodlust. It echoed in his ears, a haunting reminder of what awaited them. Y/N leaned heavily against him, her body trembling as she covered her face with shaking hands, bent double as if the weight of the world bore down on her fragile frame. For a moment, he feared she might be sick again.

After a silence that stretched like a taut wire, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes glistening. “I don’t understand why I’ve turned into a watering pot.”

“It’s the good and kind nature within you,” he murmured, though he felt the tremor in his own voice.

“It’s never good to revel in the death of one of God’s children, even if he was a very bad man.” She sniffled into her handkerchief, and gradually, the plush upholstery of the carriage seemed to embrace her weary form, pulling her back from the brink of despair.

“True. He was indeed a most depraved individual, but now we shall never have to worry about him again.”

“Do you think he really would have followed through on his threats against me?” She looked at him, eyes wide with fear.

“It’s hard to say for certain. But if his madness regarding his wife’s lover is any indication, I’m relieved to think you need not worry about his intentions any longer.”

28 February 1816

11:54 pm

“I swear to God himself, if I am not allowed to see my wife this instant, I shall break down the door!” Seokjin's voice reverberated through the upper halls of Willow Hill as he pounded on the door to their shared bedchamber, desperation clawing at him.

Y/N had been laboring for nearly twenty hours. The doctor had even consented to allow the local midwife to assist, though his reluctant agreement came with warnings laced with disapproval.

Just as Seokjin was about to start kicking the door, he heard the soft click of the lock. A frightened, doe-eyed maid opened the door, stepping aside just in time as he barreled past her into the room.

Y/N sat hunched over on a peculiar chair, sweat beading on her forehead and clinging to her hair. On either side of her stood their mothers, both wearing matching scowls, while Siobhan, the midwife, whispered instructions into Y/N’s ear, her voice thick and accented.

When Siobhan glanced up, her eyes sparkled with an unsettling gleam. Her hair was a wild halo of gray curls, and her face bore the deep lines of age, looking like an apple left too long in the orchard—wrinkled, desiccated.

“The babby is almost here,” she crooned, “but she be waitin’ fer her own special day. This'un is sure to be full o’ spirit.” Her words slurred together, but the meaning hung in the air, heavy and ripe.

“How do you know it’s a girl?” Y/N grunted, a fresh wave of pain coursing through her. “Ooooh, another…”

“Bear down and push, lovey. ’Tis almost done. Are ye ready to catch, doctor?”

“Hush, witch. I know how to bring a child into the world,” snapped the doctor, irritation coating his every word.

“Kim, come take my place,” Seokjin’s mother urged, but he hardly heard her over the pounding of his heart.

“We’ve only ever talked about names for a boy,” he murmured, glancing at the doctor’s bloodied hand reaching for a towel.

“Och, there he goes,” Siobhan said, her voice laced with disapproval, and that was the last thing Seokjin remembered before the world around him faded to black.

Everything became muffled, foggy, like he was submerged in deep water. He tried to reach for Y/N’s voice, but his limbs felt like lead, unresponsive.

Then, a sharp, acrid smell invaded his senses, burning his nostrils. His eyes shot open, heart racing as he scanned the room, confused and disoriented. He was on the floor of his chamber, the strange chair gone, the chaotic mess of moments before replaced by eerie calm. How long had he been unconscious?

A familiar wrinkled face appeared above him. “Ah, there ye be. ’Tis why we don’t let the papas in until after the wee ones are born.”

“Y/N!” he gasped, shaking off the haze. “Where is my wife?”

“I’m right here, my lord.”

He rose unsteadily, dread curling in his stomach, and turned slowly toward her voice. Y/N lay on the bed in a fresh, white nightdress, hair neatly plaited over one shoulder, and cradled in her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in blankets, a serene infant nestled against her.

He stumbled forward, drawn by an unseen force, and perched next to her, awe washing over him. Siobhan’s departing words barely registered as he soaked in the sight of his wife and child.

“Y/N, my beautiful Y/N. How do you fare?” he whispered, his heart swelling.

A knowing smile danced on her lips. “You fainted, my lord.”

He felt the warmth of laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He remained silent, mesmerized by the tiny rosebud lips of their child. “I hope everyone has sworn an oath to take the events of this room to the grave.”

“Oh dear, I do believe we forgot to summon a magistrate for such proceedings.”

“Then I will assume the entire township, nay the whole of Hampshire, will know of my weak constitution by midday.” He sighed, resting his head on her shoulder, feeling the weight of the world lift just slightly. After a contemplative silence, he asked, “Was she right? Siobhan, I mean.”

“Does it matter?”

“You are alive. The child is alive. Of course it matters.”

He watched as Y/N’s fingers traced the soft strands of reddish-brown hair that crowned their daughter’s head. “She was right. You have a daughter, my love.”

“A girl,” he breathed, the word heavy with meaning. “Was she indeed born on the twenty-ninth?”

“Yes, she waited until it was two minutes past midnight. Siobhan was right on both counts. She wanted to have her own special day.”

The thought struck him like a chill in the night air—he would never survive having a daughter. Anxiety twisted in his chest, coiling around his heart until it clenched painfully with every beat.

Y/N must have sensed his turmoil, her gaze steady and soothing. “Please don’t give yourself an apoplexy thinking of suitors and her coming out. We have many, many years before that becomes an issue.”

“You know me too well, my sweet. But it changes nothing. I would go to the ends of the earth to protect my ladies’ honor.”

He extended his arms, lifting the stirring infant into his embrace. “What shall we call her?”

Y/N tucked the blankets around her legs, her smile illuminating the dim room. “I was thinking perhaps, Lady Caroline Marie Kim, in honor of your late father.”

“Perfect. My mother will be deeply touched.” He marveled at the strength of the little fist that curled around his finger. “She will need a brother to protect her. When shall we start working on that endeavor?”

Y/N arched an eyebrow and shook her head. “You may address that subject with me in three or four years’ time. Until then, do I need to cloister myself in a separate bedchamber?”

Seokjin’s grin took on a mischievous edge as he shook his head. “I don’t think I can bear to sleep without you, my love. I promise I will behave.”

But beneath the surface of their laughter, a dark shadow lingered—a reminder that the world outside could be as dangerous as it was beautiful. And it wouldn’t be until the twenty-ninth of February 1820, that a boy, the next Earl of Rushmore, would arrive.

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sweetlyskz · 8 months ago

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Emerald Gem||Chapter Six

Hybrid!OT7 x Fem!Reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE, some language, harsh themes

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Tags list is now CLOSED! Thank you guys for loving this pic <3 lots more to come soon!

Unedited

Your dinner was getting cold. For some reason, you couldn’t pick up the fork. Your hands were too busy gripping the table, bewildered by the sight in front of you.

“Are you going to come greet us or just sit there?” Yoon teased, showing that gummy smile you missed so much. The others were behind him, Jimin laid on Taehyung’s back. You could tell they had been through hell and back. Jin could barely stand on his own two feet, leaning on Hobi for support.

“I- what are you guys doing here?” You never thought you would see them again. Now that they’re here in front of you, you don’t know what to say. Even after all that time practicing what to say if they came back.

Im sorry. Please stay. I missed you.

Instead, you asked “Where’s Namjoon?”

The smile on Yoongi’s face quickly turned into a frown, telling you all you needed to know. Maybe you couldn’t do anything to convince him to stay, maybe Joon was just a lost cause- that’s what you tried to convince yourself anyway.

“I’m so sorry-.” You tried to apologize but Jungkook quickly shut it down with a quick embrace. As soon as you felt his arms wrap around your waist you were at ease. But once he pulled away, you yearned for more. It was just a second, but you still craved it nonetheless.

“Don’t apologize when you have nothing to be sorry for. He made his bed. Now he has to lay in it.”

“Speaking of beds”, Jimin interrupted, apparently lucid enough to speak clearly. “May I go to mine? I haven’t had a proper sleep in weeks…”The guys chuckle at Jimin lack of consciousness. It made you smile knowing they could laugh in dire situations. It comforted you, hearing Jimin call the bed his. It was his bed.

This is his home.

***

After eating dinner, everyone went there separate ways. They were probably looking forward to having a nice, cozy bed all to themselves. You laid in bed trying to rest, but your mind wouldn’t allow it. Yes, you were happy to have the six wanted hybrids back home, but every time you thought about Namjoon your stomach turned from worry. Apparently you weren’t the only one.

“Hey Y/n?” The Bunny hybrid stood in front of your bedroom door holding his favorite black and blue pillow.

“Hey Kook”, you leaned against the headboard, getting a better look at him. He looked frazzled, like there was something on his mind. You know that look all too well. “Can’t sleep?”

He nodded, making his way to the unoccupied side of the bed. He laid down next to you, getting as close to you as he could while holding his pillow to his chest.

“Worried about Namjoon”, he whispered into his pillow. “Never been anywhere without him. Im scared…”

You gently removed the pillow from his chest, replacing it with your warmth. Jungkook immediately relaxed in your embrace, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. You felt like home- nice and warm. You were familiar to him, someone his could call his. Yes, he had the guys, but he grew up with them so it was different. The bond he built with you was new, and easy.

You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, rubbing his back soothingly. “I know”, you whispered. You of all people know what it’s like to lose someone. You know the feeling of curiosity, the feeling of wondering where your person may be.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him… I promise.”

You continued to rubbed Kook’s back, soothing him to sleep. There in the darkness, you both laid. It was quiet- serene.

“How did we get so lucky?” He murmured, eyelids fluttering on the brink of sleep. “What did we do to deserve you?”

He fell asleep before you could respond, before you could find the words to answer him. But his question kept you up all night, looking for the right words. How do you tell the person you just met that you’re falling? How do you explain to him that it’s you who was lucky enough to find seven incredibly selfless people.

“You deserve the world”, you whispered, finding comfort in his unconsciousness. “All of you do..”

“I love you. More than you know...”

***

You expected jungkook to be gone when you woke up, but there he was- still laid in your arms. He looked peaceful. Even with the cuts and bruises on his face, he was beautiful. And there it goes again- butterflies in your stomach. It was a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. The feeling was warm and comfortable, but also scary.

But you couldn’t lay in bed all day, admiring all of Jungkook’s features. The farm needed tending to, and breakfast needed to be made. When you went to sit up, a pair of hands quickly pulled you back down.

“Don’t leave yet”, he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Kook”, you sighed, pretending to be irritated. “I’ve gotta go cook and feed the animals. You can come help if you want.”

He shook his head, pouting like a sad little kid. “Hobi already tended to the farm and Yoon made everyone breakfast. Now, lay down with me please.”

“Oh” was all you could say. You didn’t have any other excuse. The guys made sure of that. So you let him cuddle you, the way you did him. And for a while, you laid in his arms peacefully.

“You trust me tight?” Kook questioned.

“With my life”.

He scooted closer to you, putting his head in the crook of your neck. You could feel him breathing on you, making you nervous.

“Just trust me, okay?”

You nodded. “O-okay.”

Taking his sweet time, he placed gentle kisses from your neck to your ear. It had you squirming in anticipation, wondering where his lips would move to next.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now”, he breathed by your ear, running a hand up and down your waist. One hand made its way to your breast, messaging it through your night shirt. You gasp at the sudden feeling, giving him room to connect your lips with his. The kiss was soft and gentle, yet it still made you’re mind go blank. “Namjoon would loose his mind if he knew.”

You pushed away immediately after hearing his name. Namjoon, their pack leader. What would he think about the pack maknae comforting you in your bed? Your stomach turned just thinking about it.

“I should probably go check on the others, it’s a little too quiet”, you thought up an excuse, leaving a dumbfounded Jungkook in your bedroom.

***

As you walked down the creeky stairs, the aroma of pancakes and syrup surrounded you. When you entered the living room, four hybrids sitting on the couch devouring their plate.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Hoseok beamed. “Yoon thought we should wait for you to come down, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay”, you smiled. The smell of the morning breakfast was making your stomach growl. Jimin scooted to the edge of the couch, making some room for you to sit.

“Here, grab your plate and you can watch with us”, he offered. The Saturday cartoons were on, Tae’s favorite. Tom and Jerry always made him laugh, and don’t even get him started on road runner.

“Sorry, I can’t. Lots of farm work to do. But let’s play a game outside later!”

Jin, lying down on the other side of the couch, pointed a finger at Hoseok. “Hobi already did it! The silos are full and the chicken coops are clean! I fed the animals too!”

The stairs creaked once more. Jungkook, with his doe eyes and fluffy hair, entered the living room. “Good Morning”, he greeted in his raspy morning voice.

You could feel the butterflies again.

“You sure slept well, didn’t you?” Jimin smirked. “You might want to adjust your self, kook. It’s looking right at me.”

He glared at jimin. “What are you ta- Oh shit.”

If Jimin didn’t say anything, you would’ve never noticed, but now you can’t unsee it- the tent in the bunny hybrids pants. The others laughed at him while you blushed feverishly.

“What were you dreaming about kookie?” Tae teased the youngest.

“More like who was he dreaming about?” Hobi joined in. You couldn’t even think straight. Instead of joining in the taunting banter, you decided to quietly grab a seat and try to wipe the red off your face.

But Jungkook wasn’t going to let you get away so easily.

“Blame Y/n! It’s her fault”, He exclaimed with his back turned adjusting himself. Suddenly all eyes shifted to your side of the couch, and you could no longer hide your embarrassment. And with the embarrassment was also shock.

“I- I didn’t! We never-“ You stuttered trying to find the right words. Was there any right way to explain how you made their pack mate hard? Probably not…

“You worry too much”, Kook huffed, slightly irritated. “You’re our family now. I’m as just as close to you as I am my pack. You practically are apart of us now!”

You tugged at the loose string on your shirt, eyes on the floor as if you had just been scolded. “But Namjoon-“

“Joon will come around eventually”, Jin interjected. “He knows where home is. He’ll make his way back to us soon.”

***

The room felt cold, ice cold. And even though he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, he already knew where he was.

“No! Please, Not again!” Joon begged, body trembling.

The men in white lab coats laughed. “You’re lucky you still alive. We can keep it that way, too! Just tell me where the others are and no one has to get hurt.”

Namjoon laid on the cold white floors, gripping the metal bars caging him in. If the bars weren’t there, everyone in the room would’ve been dead, by his hand. Just hearing the sinister laugh of the people who hurt his pack made him want to tear them into shreds.

“Fuck you!” He spat. He banged and beat on the cell bars, but It was no use. He couldn’t break them. And now he’s in a situation he cannot escape.

And now he’s silently calling you for help.

Please, he begged. Save me!

Taglist (Closed!)

@yoongicatcat @wifflepuff1344 @unwillingly-oblivious @shycreationdreamland @emer-syn @rinkud @amimami1991 @singukieee @nikkiordonez12 @xicanacorpse @cestlabellemort @whipwhoops @spider-thot0115 @ddaeng-angmoh @silscintilla @readerofallthingss @welcometomyworld13 @danielle143 @kookiesbunny @yoongiigolden @woozixo @anaspectoflife @blackrockshooter780 @talyaaas-blog @eashmo @jaiele @kaceypdf @reallysparklychaos @lizzymizzy-blogg @rainfprest @shycreationdreamland @belikejk @00ihatesnaku @stellauniverse @tinybasementmaker-blog @comingupwithacoolnameishard

Permanent Taglist (open!)

@famousdelusionobservation @marblemoonstones @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf @fearnotfimmie @v-love @tired7o7 @jewishmommy @ghostlyworld

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jwirecs · 1 year ago

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Hii can you compile all the arranged marriage au fics please it’ll be so easy and helpful

Thank youu!!

helloo!! seems like i;ve had a few asks regarding arranged marriage aus. i will do my best to find fics from all of the groups that i read from but i will apologize a head of time for the spam in the tags since i will be tagging all of the groups..😅

**apologies to the authors for being mentioned in two posts (tumblr be kinda messed up rn where i cant tell if the author is linked in this or not..), the anon req for me to compile the post all in one so that its easier**

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Arranged || @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong💕💔✅(ceo au, yoongi x reader)

Belong || @v-hope💕💔✅(smau, taehyung x reader)

Best Friend's Best Friend || @ktheist🔞💕💔✅(chaebol au, jeongguk x reader)

Covenant || @junghelioseok🔞💕💔✅(werewolf au, hoseok x reader)

Drugs || @euphoriyoongi🔞💕💔✅(jimin x reader)

Kiss Me More || @mosaic-opine🔞💕💔✅(yoongi x reader)

Pink Sapphire || @jiminrings💕💔✅ (jeongguk x reader)

Please Love Me || @ahundredtimesover🔞💕💔✅(ceo au, jeongguk x reader)

Shadows of Doubt || @theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass💕💔✅(seokjin x reader)

The Crown That Is Ours || @taeshobipop🔞💕💔✅ (royalty au, taehyung x reader)

Til Death Do Us Part || @justimajin🔞💕💔✅ (namjoon x reader)

To Turn a Bad Thing Good || @chateautae🔞💕💔🔄 (jeongguk x reader)

Anon Request || @alluringjae🔞💔✅ (jeno x reader)

Before I Go || @yutaholic🔞💕💔✅ (doyoung x reader)

Binding Bonds || @jaedore🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

Coming Home || @cupofjae🔞💕💔✅ (smau, yuta x reader)

Lucky Number Seven || @paintmebare🔞💔✅ (johnny x reader)

MOON RIVER || @ppangjae🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

Seed of Pomegranates || @anashins🔞💕💔✅ (jaehyun x reader)

Accidentally In Love || @suhnshinehaos💕💔✅ (smau, vernon x reader)

I Found Love In Your Smile || @wonlouvre💕💔✅ (wonwoo x reader)

Saturn Without Rings || @dropsofletters💕💔✅ (royal au, wonwoo x reader)

Vampire Kisses || @horanghaejamjam🔞💕💔✅ (junhui x reader)

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gguk-n · 3 days ago

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Tracks & Beats (Max Verstappen x Rapper!Reader)

Face claim- Lee Sung Kyung. Reader is best friend's with Suga of BTS. Google translated Korean. All the pictures are from Pinterest.

Max winning after 4 months!!

y/ngotswings is Max's fan account

2016

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by 3,890 others Tagged bts.bighitoffiicial

y/n.y/l/n 최고의 프로듀서이자 래퍼 중 한 명과 함께 일할 기회가 있었다 Had the chance to work with one of the best producers and rapper

user15 언니 그 노래는 정말 좋았어 😭😭unnie the song was so good user16 collab of the century!!😍😍 user17 사랑해 ❤️❤️i love you y/ngotswings Best song yet!!😭❤️

2019

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by 7,264 others Tagged bts.bighitofficial

y/n.y/l/n 나와 함께 노래를 작업해준 윤기 오빠 고마워 Thank you Yoongi oppa for working on this song with me!!

user18 OMG!!! The way his voices meshes with hers😍😍 user19 Their collab's keep getting better and better😭😭 user20 언니 잘했어 👍👍unnie, good job!! user21 넌 정말 예쁘다 누나 😍you're so pretty, noona y/ngotswings I cried😭😭

2023

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by 10,500 others

y/n.y/l/n comeback season!!!

user22 this comeback was sooooo goooddd!! user23 i loved the album user24 i can't wait to watch you live user25 화이팅 👍👍Fighting!! user26 당신의 미소가 정말 좋아요 ❤️❤️I love your smile user27 나는 너에게 키스하고 싶어 😘😘I want to kiss you y/ngotswings Best album ever!! Can't wait for more!!❤️❤️

2024

Max is twitter user- Redbull gives y/n wings

{Max's POV}

I'm not someone who engages in arguments on twitter but when people kept shipping Y/N with that guy, I don't know why but it was pissing me off!!

So, I might've done something a few months ago in the heat of the moment which was embarrassing when I thought about it too much but now I feel like not so much. I mean, I'm kind of famous, maybe I can use that to my advantage. So, I did something. I asked RedBull to invite her to the Japanese Grand Prix. It's close enough and honestly, I wasn't sure she would agree but she did, so I guess a win is a win.

{Max's POV}

I've met so many celebrities before but non of them have left me feeling this giddy and excited but I've never been a fan of half the celebrities that would come to the races.

Y/N was different, she was so sweet and asked questions which made it seem like she was interested in the sport so I couldn't help but answer those. I mean, we were the hosts.

"Hi, I'm Y/N" she introduced herself. I know I thought. "I'm Max" I replied. "I hear that you're the best right now" she smiled. I felt a blush creep in. "Ah...It's nothing. I just do my best" I mumbled. "No need to be humble if you're talented" she said smiling. I felt my heart race.

She was here for the weekend which meant I got to spend a lot of time with her. She was so much more fun and exciting to be around compared to what I saw on the internet. She was funny and had the cutest little laugh.

As I spent more time with her, I fell in love as if I wasn't already. I mean, I did orchestrate our meeting. "Dude, you have to ask her out" Lando whispered. "What?" I said looking at him. "You've had a crush on her for years now. I remember you rapping her songs even though they aren't in a language you speak since I joined" Lando pointed out. "But wouldn't it be weird" I asked. "What is weird is you inviting her and then staring at her from a far with heart eyes" Lando laughed. "Hey" I grimaced. "Sorry Max, but we all think it's cute. This little crush of yours" Charles interrupted. "Not you too" I whined. "Actually, all of us have a betting pool going" Pierre said. "He wasn't supposed to know" Daniel laughed, shaking his head. "You guys bet on me" I almost screamed. "In our defence, we've never seen you like a love sick puppy. Let us have this" Daniel defended. I shook my head and walked away.

"You look annoyed, everything okay?" Y/N asked. "Yeah" I smiled. "Must be fun, travelling with all these people and getting to do what you love" she asked. "It is. I even get to meet celebrities like this" I said. "I feel like you're more famous than I am. Maybe I should be the one star struck" she laughed. "You know, if you're free" I said twiddling my thumbs. It was now or never, what's the worst that could happen, she would say no and then I would spend the rest of eternity pining for her. "maybe we could go on a date?" I said scratching the back of my head. "I am" she replied. "After I win the race, maybe we could go celebrate?" I suggested. "I would love to celebrate with you" she smiled. Maybe if I died now, I would die happy.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by 45,890 others Tagged maxverstappen1, schecoperez, redbullracing

y/n.y/l/n Thank you for having me!! Lot of fun watching Max win!!

redbullracing we loved having you!! maxverstappen1 you are always invited back!! Liked by Author y/ngotswings I think I can die happy now user28 OMG!!😱😱😱 user29 ❤️❤️😍😍 user30 Okay...to that one twitter user👀 user31 the second picture is so cute😫😘 user32 예쁜 😍😍pretty user33 사랑해 ❤️❤️love you

Max and Y/N started dating a few weeks after that meeting at the grand prix. Due to their hectic schedules, they weren't able to spend as much time together. Hence, during the summer break, Max was in South Korea, trying to make the most of their time together.

Max was lounging in Y/N's room, when she plopped down next to him. "You know my friend" she began. "Yoongi, the one you're close to" Max finished. "Yeah, he'll be off tomorrow from his duty and he wanted to meet you" she muttered. "Oh" was all that left Max's lips. "I haven't dated anyone in a while because of many reasons" she said looking down, "and oppa, just wants to make sure....you know how older brothers are" she said. "I get it." Max nodded along. "Where are we meeting?" Max asked. "At home, he can't really be out in public without being swarmed" Y/N laughed. "I saw with how many of his pictures are plastered all over the place" Max laughed.

The next day, the table was set. The two of them waited for Yoongi to show up while cuddling on the couch. "Do you think he'll like me?" Max asked, breaking the silence. "He'll love you" Y/N replied while kissing Max's lips. Then the door bell rang, "Must be him" Y/N announced and went to see. She came back with Yoongi in tow. "Hello" Yoongi greeted with his hand out. "Hi" Max replied, shaking his hand. He towered over Yoongi a bit. "How old is he again?" Yoongi asked Y/N in Korean. "The same age as Jungkook, the same month too. Jungkook's in the beginning of the month and he's in the end" she replied. Max was confused as to what they were talking about. "Korea is big on age hierarchy, so I was telling him when you're birthday is" Y/N explained looking at Max's confused face which morphed into one of understanding soon.

They proceeded to dinner, while making small talk. Y/N was happy watching Yoongi getting along with Max, a dream for her honestly. After dinner, while Y/N cleaned up; the two men sat together watching her move fluidly. "I said I could help" Yoongi called out who was now watching her. "You know I'm a control freak. You two should get to know each other" she called out. Yoongi slowly sat down, Max joining soon after.

"You both have busy schedules" Yoongi began, "That's why I try to make as much time as I can. We have a schedule in place, since I'm travelling so much. It's working out" Max quickly replied. "Even then, can you keep her happy?" Yoongi asked. "I'll try my best. I can't imagine her sad or crying and worst because of me" Max shuddered. "Good" Yoongi nodded. "Listen Max, nothing against you but she's like a sister and I don't want anyone to hurt her" Yoongi reiterated. "I promise I won't ever hurt her and if I ever do, which I won't, you know where to find me. Finish me" Max stated. Yoongi smiled patting his back. "I like this one" Yoongi called out to Y/N. Y/N popped her head up, "He said he approves" she called out to Max. "I never said that" Yoongi chided. "Same same" she laughed.

Yoongi soon got ready to leave, "I had a good time. Thank you for the food" he said hugging her. "Thank you for coming. Drive safe" Y/N called out as he was leaving. "Take care of her" Yoongi told Max as he closed the door. Max looked at Y/N; "Great first impression" Y/N stated with her hands around his neck. "I think so too" Max replied kissing her. "I love you" Max stated looking into her eyes. Y/N's eyes widened before she smiled, "I love you too" she said kissing him

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hollyhomburg · 4 months ago

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Before I Leave You (Pt.73)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You are everything to Yoongi, the yoke in his egg, the daffodils on the sidewalk, the sunshine in the morning. Everything. He just had to remember it.

Tags: Nightmares, angst, hurt/comfort, mention of food issues but they're only talked about in terms of the m/c getting better.

W/c: 10.0k

A/n: the irony of this chapter is that it's going to come out during the wedding of the two people who live in the house that inspired bily, the last time i was there there where sprouts growing in every windowsill and a fluffy throw on every couch so <3 everything will be alright wont it? the house is filled with love in this universe as well as the bily one <3

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

Downstairs, you and Hobi are shrouded in a particular kind of fuzzy warmth. The kind that only comes from knowing you do not have to be in control anymore. That there is no hidden consequence waiting for you. no shoe to drop. no monster under your bed.

The downstairs is shrouded in that kind of quiet and comfort that comes with warm evenings and supple hands that have nothing to do but loving and set about diligently at that task. Like cold breezes in summer, icing and chocolate, and sunshine on raspberries warming their sugar.

But the upstairs nest room is not so peaceful.

Tae’s post-coitus talks are legendary at this point, as Yoongi sits on the edge of the nest, not looking at her because to look at Tae is to encourage more truth to fall from her lips. He busies himself with tucking jungkook in. Sprawled asleep. And tries not to listen to the truth that Yoongi neither wants nor believes he needs.

Right now his brain is fuzzy and prone to believing her.

There are small things all around the nest, pieces of the pack and remnants and evidence of the time the three of them spent here hours ago taking Jungkook apart and putting him back together again. Fucking then sleeping then waking up to fuck again. The arousal burns low at present, sated for now.

A discarded shirt of Jungkook’s sits tangled in a pair of handcuffs because he’d gotten too squirmy for Tae's liking, a silk scarf of Tae’s because he’d gotten mouthy too. A notepad and a bit of paper. Lines scrawled out because Tae’s post-knot clarity always gives her a few good poems, a few good lines.

Yoongi doesn't have to read them to know they're about you. Almost everything Tae writes has You and Jimin in it. The others are there too every now and then- but if Tae had to say it Yoongi knows you and Jimin are her muses.

It takes Tae a few months to digest her feelings into something palatable. Yoongi didn’t need to ask what time period it was written about as he read over her shoulder, pressing kisses to her lips between the lines. Trying not to be a distraction but wanting to be a distraction worthy of Tae’s attention.

This poem that he'd watched her scrawl out, pen to her lips between stanzas. It has the first few months of your relationship all over it.

I know I over-feed the cat, but I can’t help it. If you could eat the love I have for you what would it taste like? Would it be mangoes- Sticky, yellow, sweet. Eat Till the threads of it get stuck Between your teeth. Would it leave you full and sleepy- like bread and pasta? Rigatoni, Penne, pastina stars The candy toothache of my heart Swells thick and gummy. Eat up. I must admit I grow addicted to the brown sugar of your being. Would my love stain the edge of your smile? Like strawberries? Blueberries? Black? I must admit I am afraid of food metaphors When it comes to you. Because just like with food, I fear if I don’t give you enough You’ll go starving, Out of some sense Of beauty and responsibility. Could you love me enough, Would you love me enough if I’m good? Salt, fat, acid, heat. What is owed at our table- A full meal or half? Desert or just a snack? Just tea please, I’m not hungry. I already ate. I know I overfeed the cat, but I can’t help it- I can’t help it at all. If you would eat the love I have for you, Would you still want to be so skinny? Love is warm bellies and not hollow throats. Love cares not for second portions, Only 8 courses Love is a bowl of soup It warms from the inside out. I know I overfeed the cat.

Noodle purrs nearby, the subject of the conversation earlier today that no doubt inspired Tae. Heaped between a pillow and a rolled-up blanket looking overstuffed- like one of your stuffed animals that litter the nest up here and the one downstairs. Jin had gotten a little overzealous on the jellycat website during christmas time.

He's gotten rather chubby, his middle more round than just fluffy. His pudgy tomcat face is charming, eyes blinking slowly as he watches Yoongi toil with his emotions.

"We should put him on a diet" You'd lamented, still feeding him treats, in the kitchen this afternoon. Yellow light slipped through the windows and lunch plates piled high in the sink. A carton of coffee-caramel ice cream and mango sorbet gathering condensation nearby. On your knees before his bowl. Because if you all got after-lunch ice cream treats then he should get some too.

"Don't you dare, he's perfect this way." Tae had replied, scandalized, and made the point of giving Noodle an extra scoop of food and you an extra spoonful of sweet frozen milk.

Yoongi knows that your comment had stayed on Tae's mind just like he knows that it's not just Noodle you were talking about. How many times has he seen you pull down the edge of your shirt over the past few weeks? Or reach for Hobi's baggier sweatshirts? Or sho them all out the door when you shower intent on doing it alone.

The pack loves group showers, there will probably be one on the way tonight from the sound of it. Yoongi doesn't doubt that the pack will leave you messy and sated. A little too sleepy too. Someone will have to help.

His fingers drum quietly on the bed. Nervous. Waiting. A little annoyed- but Yoongi's not sure where it comes from.

A loud slap from downstairs punctuates the quiet. Yoongi just barely flinches. And Yoongi wonders if you'd let them see you naked tonight or if you'd been too nervous for it. Or if Seokjin and Namjoon will make everything, your anxieties and your fears and your feelings of inadequacy, feel small.

They'll make you feel small too. Omegaspace is all but a guarantee tonight.

But he's not allowed downstairs to double-check that you're alright. (He is, he's just not sure you even want him downstairs- which is another thing entirely. Would his presence make you more nervous? More likely to go into appeasement mode because you think that's what he wants?)

Tae has a habit of reminding him when he's being a shithead.

Now Yoongi wishes for Tae’s attention to be elsewhere. On a poem. On Jungkook. On anything. Yoongi has gotten very good at lying to himself over the past few weeks. But somewhere across the lines I’m still angry at her, turned into I should still be angry. He’s not quite sure when that changed. But he knows he's holding onto his anger, that it's growing slippery, but that he's not ready for it to go away.

Yoongi will do anything to keep you, to make you stay. And that’s part of the problem. He's scared of his own capacity for forgiveness. What you might take if he gives you another chance. He's scared that you'll go and take all of him with you.

He's scared- sure, but he's not really angry anymore.

He's just tired- tired of feeling so much, tired of feeling things so intensely. Tired of worrying, of keeping you at arm’s length and wondering if I let you back in now have you learned not to do this again? Or will you just say you’ll change?

Yoongi will always love you- will always be your mate. But he doesn’t want to be sitting and waiting all the time wondering if you’re thinking about leaving again.

You’ve already tried to do that twice; the third time would be the charm.

Jungkook slumbers belly down in the nest, his soft huffs of breath coming frequently and at a steady pace. He’s quite a vision with his rippling back muscles and splayed thighs. With Hickeys on his skin from Yoongi's own mouth where the skin goes soft and dark. Knees apart to limit the soreness he must be feeling from the knot. Covered at the waist but only just so with a thin sheet. The tops of his thighs shiny with cooling slick. Yoongi’s eyes hover on Jungkook as he looks back.

Tae's voice keeps it hush, mindful of Jungkook's sleep schedule but not of the fragileness of Yoongi's heart.

"If you worry you suffer twice. Her leaving and you not forgiving her- isn't the result the same?"

Jungkook's sleeping form will offer him no savior from Tae’s words, he’d say the same thing- they all would. "Do you really want the distance she's been trying to give you Yoongi? Because I really don't think you do"

You've been fucking miserable these last few weeks. Is what she doesn't say but wants too. Yoongi knows it. Can taste the unfinished business on the air in the form of Tae's wilting rose and cinnamon scent. The heady horny edge to it wareing away.

It’s quiet downstairs but it hadn’t always been; between your pleas and Hobi’s growls and then your cries that had made Yoongi gnash his teeth. Sobbing echos that made Yoongi flinch. Distant cries of “m’ sorry m-" and Jin’s joining croon of “good pup, come to daddy, I’ve got you my sweet little thing, I’ve got you.”

But it’s quieting down now. Yoongi can only just hear a little bit of the hushed voices when he strains his ears. He can’t hear you at all when Tae’s talking.

Jungkook stays asleep, completely lost to the world, He needed two cocks to settle, Jungkook always sleeps for a long time after scenes, even simple cute ones like this. You’re the same. Yoongi knows you’re the same. That you usually doze after cumming, so sleepy- like your body gives up under the force of too much pleasure. And that even awake you’re pliant and drowsy. (He loves it when you get that way).

You’ll never have to worry about insomnia the way that Tae and Yoongi do. If it ever gets too bad, the pack will only ever fuck you to bed.

Which is why Yoongi’s restless, why he can’t sleep. Because you’re downstairs and not upstairs with him. He can pretend that's not why he's awake, but the truth remains. Eviscerated by Tae's pouting lips.

He heard you crying earlier. Coupled with Hobi’s yelps and Namjoon’s low croon. It was hard- harder than Yoongi expected, to resist the urge to go down to you. Grating, the mental equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to tune out the sounds of his mate in distress.

It's not distress, he knows that- logically Yoongi knows that the pack would never do anything you didn't consent to.

And still…

"That's not it Tae, that's not it at all." Yoongi denies, but the lie is blatant even to his own lips.

Yoongi is harder to settle than Jungkook. Tae knows this. Folded against the nest, her silky lavender dress pulled back on after fucking Jungkook, small breasts pillowing, hickeys dotting the top of them both faded and not. Some of them are from Jungkook- fresh and pink- but a few might be from you a few days prior.

She snorts, "isn't it? You're both just doing what you think will give you the least amount of pain- instead of actually confronting each other about this. Do you know what I think hyung?”

Just about every packmate has a newfound obsession with Tae’s chest. The tender swelling sensitivity just there. Tae hasn’t gone up a cup size in a few months, she’s a B at best- but the pack still praises her for it. Still takes every opportunity to make her blush and show her their appreciation.

But still- sometimes Yoongi catches her in the mornings, putting on her lingerie that she wears under her clothes almost every days-tugging at the gaping in the front. She bought stuff a cup size up at the beginning- so did Namjoon and Jin and Jimin, endless pretty sets from for love and lemons and Victoria’s Secret that sit unworn.

Because they don’t fit- might not ever fit. Unless Tae does something drastic like surgery. Yoongi's surprised she hasn't asked for it yet.

Yoongi sighs, frustrated, “What Tae, what do you want to say?”

Tae flips over on her tummy, hair a little messy, grinning looking a bit like Noodle as she strokes gently down Yoongi’s jaw. He’s not wearing a shirt he just tugged on pajama pants so the scratch of her long nails down his skin makes goosebumps erupt all over his bare arms.

“I think punishing yourself isn’t a way to rewrite history. Punishing yourself isn’t going to make what happened go away. At this point- I think you’re keeping yourself away from her to prove a point- but the points already been proven.”

“That’s not it,” Yoongi says again. Like repeating it will make it true. Tae raises an eyebrow at him, swishing her legs, her white painted toenails flashing in the half-darkness.

“Don’t you want to make her see that it was a bad decision, isn’t that what you’re doing? Punishing her for going and punishing yourself for not being there when she made the choice to go?”

As if on cue Yoongi can hear it from the ground floor, the sound of your babbling giggles- you in omegaspace surely, a softly crooned “Good puppy, give him another treat, he’s earned it.” From Jin. Yoongi knows you’re cute and sweet and sensitive in your headspace downstairs, the idea of seeing you- touching you- without the burden of all this- is so tempting Yoongi’s hands hurt.

Yoongi’s hands tighten around Jungkook's elbow, his anchor, preventing him from going downstairs. When Yoongi turns back to look at Tae, her eyebrows are pulled together and she’s looking down at Jungkookie. He has a single hand tangled in the hem of her nightdress, fist closed, chubby and cute.

“What are you thinking?” Yoongi is always in the habit of asking that. It’s worth asking- so that you don’t have to wonder.

“You remind me of myself before I came out. Denying yourself love just because you want to be right- doesn’t make you right, it just makes you less loved.” Her eyes flick from Jungkook up to Yoongi.

Yoongi's hands are cold, the goosebumps on his arms are still there.

Yoongi is not human without your love. How many afternoons has Tae seen him staring off into space? How many more meals will Yoongi push around the food on his plate? How many mornings will his hair go unbrushed because Yoongi simply doesn't have the energy to brush it? Tae and the others make up for it a good deal, but at the end of the day, none of them are the person who Yoongi bonded his soul too.

Tae knows what sadness looks like, what depression looks like and she's learned a lot from you. She won't let this be more than a little blip in Yoongi's year.

Your love is one of the things that makes Yoongi feel human. Without you to love, and feeling like he shouldn't, Yoongi's a little unmoored, a little without purpose.

Tae detangles Jungkook’s fist from her dress gently, replacing his grip with a nearby item- another one of her dresses that the omega had so diligently woven into the outer rim of the nest. He curls around it protectively, purring gently. She covers him with a different thicker blanket to simulate her warmth. Then she sits up on her knees and starts to shuffle to the edge of the nest.

“Come on,”

“But Jungkook-”

“He’ll be fine for a second hyung.”

Tae hasn’t yet conditioned herself out of using that phrase, hyung. And Yoongi might remind her if it didn’t sound so sweet coming from her mouth. More of a pet name than anything else. Yoongi doesn’t mind. She can still call him hyung if she wants. They’ve had conversations about it before.

Tae stops, and turns back. The language thing- is one of her current fixations at the moment. “It’s not- just because that slips out doesn’t mean I’m not still a girl."

“I know baby. I’d never think that unless you told me- not that you’ve got to- not that-“

“No, I know. Thank you hyung.” Tae's teeth worry away at her lower lip.

“You can use Oppa too you know. If that feels nicer, or you can go back and forth and use both.”

“I know, I don’t know why I don’t like it as much, hyung makes me feel like you’ll always look after me.” Yoongi grabs Tae’s hands, tangled in the sheets, silken, pink.

“You know I always will.”

Tae uses that hand to her advantage. Pulling him up and out of the nest. Tae leads him down the dark stairs, her quiet giggles softening Yoongi’s anxiety, but when he gets down there, you're there.

You're small in Namjoon's lap, resting your cheek against the hollow of his throat. The pack alpha's shirt is completely unbuttoned now and you’ve hidden your face in his honey skin, rubbing your face all in it, cheeks pink and slowly purring. Guarding your eyes from the big light in the kitchen- where Jimin is getting Hobi a glass of water. Pants pulled on just barely, still hanging low. The scar on his shoulder pink and catching the light- just barely healing. Big on the back side and small on the front.

Yoongi just barely hears namjoons low and sweet growls, his sweet nothings. The way he cradles you gently but so fiercely to his chest Yoongi knows it's all instinct.

"I'm never gonna let anything happen to you- never again- I've got you pup, I've got you. "

The shirt you wear is big and dark, he knows already that it's his- probably pilfered from downstairs to comfort you. Yoongi's not really sure why that makes his throat close up. Even around all of them, even after all of that. It's still his scent you ask for. The one that cloaks you and covers you in the wake of this.

It hurts a little bit more than it should that Namjoon freezes when he sees Yoongi standing on the steps. Freezes, arms tightening just a little around you as you continue to nuzzle into the pack alpha's throat, Dozing and lost in the haze of aftercare.

His arms relax when Namjoon sees it's just the two of them, and tae floats over, dress swishing. "Oh alpha- did you make her all small and soft for me?"

Namjoons teeth look extra sharp as he beholds tae, as she strokes down his throat. To have another alpha touch him there should feel threatening, but Namjoon just feels satisfied. "Of course I did babygirl."

Hobi is more awake than you but so much further down in puppy space than Yoongi expected. The collar jingles faintly against his throat where he rolls his tongue lolling out. Belly up on the carpet and clearly enjoying Jin’s nails scrapping and petting and scratching over his tummy. Never too tired for more belly rubs, especially with a full stomach full of good pup treats (they're just dog bone-shaped chocolate chip cookies, a special all-organic kind that Jin buys from Etsy explicitly for this).

He’s shy- Hobi hasn’t had the time to indulge in puppy space in months, but now he tucks his face under Jin’s shirt and squirms. Happy to be on the receiving end of the pack Omega’s undivided attention. “Good puppy- what a good boy-“ Jin croons, eyes glassy and dark, biting his lip as he watches Hobi squirm and his tongue lol. Panting animatedly.

He’s needed this too- the sound of his praises fall so easy and natural from his pouted lips. And Hobi stills, ears pink when he looks to Yoongi and Tae in the doorway. Lucid for a breath. Tae’s arms are looped around Yoongi’s hips. Keeping him from slinking off, keeping him from feeling like he’s not wanted.

The pack alpha pears at them over the back of the couch. His arms slowly relax around you, nostrils flaring at the scents coming from both of them but mostly Yoongi. Namjoon looks, and glares, but he can smell it. How upset he really is, the undercurrent to his scent. Yoongi smells like chocolate and worry.

He tips his chin down, a clear command to come here.

“Yoongi wanted to make sure she was alright.” Tae supplies, Yoongi tries to deny it but Namjoon already knows. Namjoon’s grumble growl is warm and inviting as Tae guides Yoongi to sit. Your arms are loose around Namjoon’s neck. He’s quiet, but his eyes are shiny with alpha space, measuring every one of their movements like the pack alpha might measure threats. Guarding the pup in his arms very diligently.

“She’s tired, fell right off.” jimin says, coming over to stand above the four of you and watch as tae guides yoongi's hand out, to touch your back, to pet up and down gently. Jimin runs his hand over your wet cheek, picking a hair out from between your lips.

“Poor little pup” and Yoongi feels breathless but Namjoon and Tae make room for him to sit close. yoongi doesn't need to be guided to sit close to you, almost sideways in something like a hug. You sag just a little more into him, like you’re relaxed by Yoongi’s presence alone. Letting out soft huffs of breath against Namjoon's chest, tiny purrs start up anew, louder, deeper. Your spine curls at an uncomfortable angle like you can decide between Namjoon's chest and Yoongi's hands.

And then Tae takes both of your wrists, detangling them from Namjoon’s neck, the same moment that Namjoon starts to lift your hips.

Yoongi can’t even say anything, can’t even protest as they put you in his lap. You suction to his front like a starfish sinking deeper into dreamland and going more boneless by the breath. Yoongi starts to say something- nothing more than hollow protests.

But it feels so good to have you hear, settled over his lap. So good his breath hitches.

Your hands tangle in the front of his shirt, holding on tight- like you think he might go even in your sleep. Yoongi knows you feel that he’s here- although you might not remember it tomorrow. Maybe that's for the better.

he hesitates for a second, and then pulls you flush against him, hard.

Tae settles behind him and namjoon behind you. His big hands forcing the collar of his shirt to the side so the pack alpha can lean around you and nuzzle into the hollow of his throat. He barely has enough energy in him to open his mouth.

How lucky you and him are to have 6 people to watch over you like this. To make sure that you wake up safe, that you get everything you need before you drift off. Yoongi doesn’t have to do it on his own anymore. He hasn’t had to in months but that still doesn’t lose its novelty. Yoongi wonders if he’ll ever take it for granted.

Yoongi breathes deep and even.

“Thanks, Tae.”

“Of course, honey. Remember for next time- alpha knows best.” Yoongi’s cheek rests against the top of your head, and your breath tickles his neck.

“I know we’ve got to go upstairs, but can we stay like this for a second?” “Of course, honey.” Her fingers stroke through his hair, and Yoongi closes his eyes and tucks his face into the top of your head. One cuddle can't hurt. He can go back to being angry with you in the morning.

“You’ll stay like that until Alpha says you can get up.”

Tae’s giggle is sweet, Yoongi’s eyes are already closed, “Joonie-“

He can hear Namjoon's bashfulness in his voice, the kind of shyness that warms yoongi up from the inside out and reminds him that they're all still learning. “Sorry, I’m still- it’s still-”

“I know alpha.”

I know I know I know.

~-~

(Yoongi, a few days later)

(In the end, forgiveness is not something that is inevitable)

Yoongi doesn’t know that it’s a dream while it’s happening.

One moment he is entirely unaware, resting, asleep, at peace. And the next the nightmare climbs up the edge of his vision. Clinging to the darkness- dissolving like mist only in reverse. Like smoke sucked through a straw. Like burning- carving from the outside in, hungry and without purpose. Burning burning burning.

One moment nothing and the next there is so much red.

The first thing Yoongi knows is that he can smell something burning, he looks up and he’s in the living room of your house, no furniture yet. The inside is so white but not perfect- he can vaguely place the memory.

This is the way the house looked just after they finished re-plastering; Yoongi files the memory and finds its from months and months ago- during another spring. The floors are all fucked from the mess that the plasterers had left. White splotches here and there. Everything covered in ghostly white sheets, a drop cloth under Yoongi's knees that slowly bleeds red.

It's about a month before the pack came home maybe. The last month it was ever you and Yoongi and not You and Yoongi and everyone else.

Yoongi watches as the Flames lick at the white walls. There is something in his hands but he can't look down yet. Something- his brain doesn't want to look at it- it's easier to look at the flames. The fire is yellow and slow to hunger. Creeping almost lazily, like it has nothing but time to burn. He can do little more than watch, not too scared, just confused, as all of the hours and minutes of his hard work are eaten up by heat.

The fire comes from everywhere and nowhere- leaking silently up the walls, turning the plaster slowly from gold to brown, then black before it crumbles away into ashes. Slowly chewing away at the walls, and the windows. The doorknob rattles and somewhere close by Noodle yowls and scratches at something.

The next thing Yoongi knows is that you’re very very still. You’re not moving at all. Not even a little bit- those pupish twitches of your fingers or the wiggle of your nose when you scent his displeasure. Nothing. None of it.

Yoongi is holding you, you are so small, so fragile in his arms. Lighter than you are in reality as he shakes you and tries to get you to wake up. You smile in your sleep a lot, but you aren’t smiling now. The mating mark is blackened against your throat, a thin trail of black and red that rims your lips, bleeding down the corner of your mouth. Inky dark one second, bright crimson the next as a bit of blood drips down the side of your face.

There is so much blood. It's wet and it's cold despite the fire.

He calls your name, and you don't answer. Yoongi's own voice sounds muffled, Warbled. He keeps talking. Unsure what he's saying. He shouts and screams. But his voice never gets louder, you never wake up. He yells as loud as he can and you still don’t wake up.

It comes all at once, just like the fire.

There is blood on your throat too, so much it can't just be from your mouth. Bright and ruby, slipping down your collar bones and the hallow of your chest. Welling out from somewhere- somewhere that Yoongi can't see. Where are you hurt? Where is it coming from? Yoongi can't find the cause of the bleeding.

There is blood on your arms- trailing to the hallow of your elbow, between your legs, soaking through the white of his shirt, heavy and sticky and warm. Yoongi feels like he's suffocating. Yoongi searches for the source of the bleeding, fingers ruddy, soaking into his palms and his knuckles. Frantic as he tugs the hem of your shirt soaked through. The shorts at your hips- all red.

There is so much of it, so much of it that it pools around the two of you on the floor, slow and lazily, almost taunting Yoongi- just like the flames. Yoongi can do little more but watch you bleed out and hold you through it. Hold you as you die. Watch the red swallow you until there's nothing left of you. Just blood-soaked clothing. His breath hitches, suddenly painful in his lungs and his voice comes all at once. So loud it hurts him.

“Namjoon- please- someone help me- someone-”

Yoongi wakes in the nest completely alone. Jerking up so fast that it makes him dizzy. He's too warm. Hot and balmy. Sweat soaks the front of his shirt.

He pushes himself up in the empty nest on shaking hands. Blinking, looking around at the folded blankets, the pillows at the rim of the nook, the absence of any other living soul here.

(that's not entirely true, Noodle is perched on a nearby pillow purring loudly. That's as much comfort as he can possibly offer as he's sworn to hate his arch-nemesis for eternity. Even though Yoongi sort of gives the best chin rubs- although Noodle would never confess it and will take the secret to his grave).

The high ceilings are dark and hollow, the whole room drenched in that half twilight of closed drapes. Empty even though Yoongi looks- searching for his packmates, searching for anything to make his chest feel not so tight.

Noodle purrs loudly and blinks slow.

The Christmas lights have been turned off- probably to help him sleep. The light streaming through the cracks in the curtains is dissonant. But the room is quiet and cluttered- Hobi’s monstera looks freshly misted in the corner, and humidity clings to the windows and skylight up high.

Yoongi pulls himself up and heaves out a shaky breath. Chest tight. You- he needs to find you. Find you and make sure- make sure you're not- Yoongi lets out a shaky breath. A dream, that's all it was. Just a dream. But part of him can't believe it. What if it wasn't?

It’s still hard to tell. The panic won’t leave his lungs. At the front of his nose is the scent of burning things- and that is very very real.

It looks like the omega’s piled the blankets around him, a smaller ring of fluffy blankets to keep the last slumbering packmate safe from outside eyes. But with so many blankets- Yoongi has overheated. He's sweaty and sticky and gross feeling. He should probably shower before he goes downstairs, probably, but-

He needs to make sure you're alright, right now- before he falls apart. Noodle mewls lightly and pulls himself over to Yoongi, pushing up against his trembling fingers, licking at them until Yoongi scratches his chin.

It takes him a second, staring down at his sweat-soaked shirt- to distinguish that it is not blood, blinking and mistaking the light behind his eyes for red.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything and doesn’t call out for anyone. Can’t do anything but detangle himself from the mess of blankets and Noodle and follow the smell of burning things down down down the stairs. Feeling like a ghost with a bad taste in his mouth. A vague pressure behind his eyes and a numbness in his arms and hands from lying on them for so long. His blood circulates slowly and sluggishly.

You are standing on a kitchen stool when he skitters to a stop on bare feet at the bottom of the stairs.

Yoongi has to blink a few times to make sure he's not dreaming, that the walls are the same light pink color they always were. Not brick red but not creamy plaster white- off color like the flush at your cheeks.

The sweater you wear is Hobi's- extra big especially at the wrists, pulling down all the way to your elbow as you reach up to stop the beeping from the smoke alarm with a wave of a newspaper. Nose wrinkled at the smell of smoke. You don't have the crusties at your eyes and your skin is glossy. Seokjin probably did your skincare routine for you as the pack omega is prone to do with so much extra time for fussing these days.

There is no one else in the house but you. The top layer of the air in the kitchen is cloudy with smoke. Yoongi watches you and scrubs a hand over his face. You do not turn and look at Yoongi in the doorway, although you know it’s him just because you can sense when your mate comes close, either scenting him on the air or through the dull pulse of the mating park.

Your sense of smell has been getting a little bit better recently. Yoongi knows better than to chalk it up to your weight gain but your health checkup earlier this week had been a lot more promising than the one before. Yoongi had gone to the appointment with you, and you’d perked up almost immediately when you realized he wasn’t going to give you the distant silent treatment again, all but skipping into the exam room.

He’d even let you hold his hand while they took your blood. He’s never had the heart to leave you scared. Never. Not even when he's angry at you.

Your hormones are leveling out, although there are no signs of you going into heat yet. Another 3 months of no change and you've promised Namjoon to at least talk about hormone therapies.

Tae had reassured you that it wasn't so bad with a kiss on your forehead and a hand at your hip. Covering the place where you, like Tae, might one day receive the weekly injections by Namjoon's hands.

It’s daunting. The idea of sitting through the same kind of treatment that Tae gets; the clink of the glass bottles on the counter, the pearly sound of glass hitting tile. The cold swipe of a swab and the press of a needle.

Namjoon’s always gentle.

You'd be inclined to just leave it alone- but your doctor had been very insistent, something about possible fertility issues if you want to have pups one day. It’s hard to get pregnant outside of a heat, nearly impossible. This isn't an issue that can be just pushed under the rug if pups are something you want to have with the pack someday.

Namjoon and Tae had perked up a little when the idea of pups had been broached. But Yoongi had remained at the fringes of the room- silent. Yoongi thinks about your scent changing the same way Tae's did- how it went from cinnamon and pepper to cinnamon and roses.

He'd never tell her because Yoongi would never want to make Tae feel self-conscious about her own much-needed changes, but he doesn't like the idea of your scent changing the same way.

Deep down Yoongi wonders if you’d want to have pups if it wasn’t what the pack wanted. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle it, a little bundle of you and him and the whole big fucking world with all its wicked people. Yoongi knows peace now but still doesn't trust it. Wouldn't trust it especially if it was just him and you and a little life- so unprotected and vulnerable.

Yoongi doesn’t like feeling this way; vulnerable.

He breathes in a deep breath of your scent, warm and sweet and slightly smooth, not frazzled or scared sour (the way he first knew your scent to be, back before he even knew that you smelled like cake and not rain). You smell completely unaffected, unworried, and unharmed. You don't smell at all like you would have in Yoongi's dream. You don't smell like you're dying.

So why is his heart still beating out of his chest?

He crosses the kitchen in a few shakey strides, just as you start to speak. “Hobi made pancakes but Jin and him started making out and they like totally forgot about them! So they’re out getting breakfast sandwiches, I didn’t wanna wake you so I just got you-”

Your voice cuts off abruptly as Yoongi lines his face up with your spine and plants his nose there, breathing in your scent once, then again shaky. Nuzzling into your lower back. Arms around your waist, gripping your hips.

You make a little noise, questioning, looking down at him with a mixture of shock and concern. and you should be shocked and concerned- it's been nearly a month since your mate hugged you- let alone clutched you to his chest like this. It’s roughly the same sound that Noodle makes when you wake him up with pets.

He holds around your waist as you stand on the ladder, three feet up. His hands tangle with the fabric at your hips. he blinks looking down and away, at the floor.

“Yoongi!? What’s wrong?”

Dimly, he's aware that he’s supposed to be angry at you. He flushes, the blood hot and pink at his cheeks. You’re not supposed to be speaking really- at least not about things that matter and to be fair- Yoongi cannot speak right now. Burying his face in your back until the feeling of your blood on his hands is a distant memory. Feeling the warmth of your skin until the idea of you cold and still no longer bothers him.

Not a memory- a dream. Not a memory. He has to remind himself a second time. Remind himself enough that by the time he doesn't belive it the space to answer your question comes and goes.

Your eyebrows lower and you set a hand on his head, threading routinely into his hair- long, shaggy and dark. And he pushes further into your skin and into your touch the same way plants press into sunlight.

Yoongi is so tired of being angry, he's so tired of being scared. Your hand touches his cheek and his eyes flutter. Lips parting. Namjoon cuddled him just last night- but Yoongi will always be touch starved just for you.

Your breath hitches, "Oh Yoongi."

his arms tighten around you, like he's worried you're going to slip through his arms like smoke. "Bad dream?" You ask, it's a state that you are only too familiar with as he hums non-committal. you turn around halfway so that you can put your hands on his shoulders and touch him. Yoongi almost wants to keen at the contact, almost wants to tell you he likes it too much- which would be embarrassing. He nods against your back.

He missed this, missed this A lot. He missed you. Yoongi's eyes are itchy.

This is the first time he’s held you since you almost left, besides that moment in the car when you were both so angry and so broken it hardly mattered. Yoongi swallows, and he still can’t speak when he tries. Hiding his face in your spine, your hip when you turn, back hugging you because even on a ladder he is still mostly taller than you. Shaking faintly, still shaking off the fucking dream.

His voice is croaky, not all there when his voice box finally cooperates. “Can you get off?"

You get down from the stepstool instantly. His hands tangle in the side of your shirt to steady you. Unwilling to go more than a few inches from you. You're always so wobbly in the mornings before you've eaten and Yoongi is ever mindful.

The sweater you wear has a small doodled bunch of flowers on the front, a botanical print. Yoongi thinks he remembers if vaguely- from a trip Hobi and Namjoon took to the botanical garden a few years ago. It's got holes in the arms like Hobi has snagged it one too many times on rose bushes. Yoongi threads his fingers through them and holds on.

You stare up at him from the floor like you’re waiting for his instruction. Eyes wide and glassy and pretty and alive.

Yoongi stills, breath hitching- at the sight of a bit of red on your lips.

It's off to the side, on your bottom lip almost hidden by where your smile sits. Yoongi's face crumples a little at the sight of it.

Yoongi reaches up with shaking hands to touch it, wiping it away. You follow his hand. He looks down at the smudge on his finger. The little bit of red.

“Oh! That was from Tae she-" You break off when he pulls you back to him, crushing you to his chest. And you surely can’t know what’s going wrong or what Yoongi’s just dreamed but you let him man handle you regardless.

He's sort of glad that no one else is home, that it's just you and him here for a few moments. The quiet of the house is all encompassing- beyond the sound of wind sneaking under the windowsills and the pitter-patter of the drizzle outside. Noodle meows dolefully from the stairs, coming to see why Yoongi had abandoned him so abruptly (the nerve of him.)

Yoongi rests his full weight on you, crushing you to his chest. You push his hair back away from his face, and Yoongi keeps his eyes closed like that will keep the feeling here for longer. Like he's worried if he opens his eyes the nightmare will be here again.

Your hands, his face, small fingers that push at the wetness that he doesn’t name dripping under his eyes. His breath comes out in short little gasps.

There is rain outside, pattering against the window. It’s been raining a lot over the last few days. Soaking the soil in the pre-spring cold. It won't be long now and everything will be green again. Hobi will plant the window boxes, and you'll be able to put the ferns out. You and Tae will start wearing your matching dresses all the time and it will become Yoongi's job to cut the watermelon because he's the only one in the house trusted besides Jin with the big knives. He'll cut up orange slices and peaches and strawberries too. Everything for his loves and their hungry mouths and hungry hearts.

Soon but not yet. Spring and summer are just around the corner but they're not here yet and yoongi is painfully aware of that.

You don’t ask him why he’s crying; you don’t look him in the eyes when he opens them, just continue your careful petting through his hair, eyes flickering up, then down and away. The twist of your lips is guilty.

You are not bleeding; you are alive and Yoongi cannot stand it. The weight of memories he didn’t live weighs on him, still memories. He breathes out a shaky breath. And double-checks his fingers are absent of blood after he rubs over your throat. Checking.

You pull at him, hands on his shoulders. “Come on-“

You pull him through the quiet halls, and into the room at the very back of the house. Noodle follows too with a jingle of his purple bell collar.

The windows here are cracked to let in the chilly spring air- pushing out the last mustyness of winder and bringing with it the smell of rain. The nesting nook is dark and cozy-tempting; but full of stuffed animals and extra nesting pillows that you scoop out of the interior and put on the floor with such care. Lining them up against the outside of the nook. All to make room for him.

Yoongi holds onto the hem of your sweater, rubbing a fist against his eye. Like a clingy child. But he has to let you go when you turn. he can feel the pout on his face and you reach up to smooth it out. You only pause for a second, briefly, “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Yoongi shakes his head, still wordless, unable to make his mouth cooperate. You don’t say anything, you don’t do anything but pull him into the warm dark quiet of the nesting nook.

Yoongi hasn’t spent so much time with you in here, but it’s surprisingly well-ventilated, the woven fabric sides of it dark but breathable. There’s not a lot of room but you make it work. Scooting back and pulling him down and down and down.

You pull him to rest against your chest, between your legs. Your hips splayed to let him curl up and nuzzle into you- in something like a full-body hug. Yoongi is too tired and too shaky to protest. He can’t even say he doesn’t want to but you check anyway- your movements slow as you get him situated.

Your heartbeat thuds quick against his fingertips. Yoongi wants to tell you that you don’t need to be scared, you don’t need to be afraid of overstepping. But can’t make his mouth cooperate.

His arms loosely circle around your waist, and then harder to crush you against him. At this position, you have full reign to run your fingers through his hair, over his shoulders, and down and up again. He knows he smells sweaty and probably rancid. But he nuzzles into your skin at the low neckline of the sweater. He puts his ear against your heart. Thud thud thud. Slowing down and evening out. You're right here and just under him, safe, and his eyelids are so heavy.

“Is this better? Do you need to go back to sleep?” Yoongi nods and doesn’t need to say another word.

Sleep rises up frightfully quick to meet him. He's not at all convinced that he hasn't dreamed it all. Finding you, coming here, and curling up. A dream within a dream. A good one in exchange for the nightmare earlier.

But this time he doesn’t dream at all, and even if he does, it’s only the sound of your heartbeat- thud thud thud. His own heartbeat thins out, and the tenseness in his shoulders relaxes.

Yoongi wakes up because a tomato has just fallen on his face.

You’re trying to be quiet, but Hoseok understandably laughs from where he’s holding out a half-unwrapped breakfast sandwich into the nesting nook for you to take a bite. Yoongi can vaguely place the words just whispered over his head. 'You guys eat without us, I don't want to wake him' 'Okay, but have a bite first- you know they're better when they're warm'

Your laughter shakes against his cheek, your jaw clicks as you chew, and when he picks himself up, the tomato slides down his face, syrup slow. Until it flops against your throat. You and Hobi devolve into louder giggles and Yoongi can't stop the laugh that comes from his chest too.

The ruse is up, and you're all laughing. “Oh my god Hobi you promised to be quiet,”

Hoseok's one knee depresses the side of the nesting nook as he leans. Grinning down at Yoongi. Long fingers splayed around his ribs, making Yoongi shiver. The alpha pulls at his hips, and Yoongi feels a bit like a chew toy but in the best way, to be between the two of you laughing. “Come on Yoon- we’ve got you one too-“

Yoongi lets you both puppet him into the other room. Stumbling between the two of you. Until Hobi ducks low and nuzzles, and Yoongi just resorts to watching the two of you.

The way your hand goes from holding Yoongi's to touching Hobi's palm, then back to his like a bumblebee darting between flowers. A small smile works its way onto Yoongi's face. Even more when you pinch Hobi's ass and Hobi acts appropriately scandalized. Only you could get in on his and Jungkook's near-perpetual ass-touching competition.

(Yoongi's smile grows wider without him even realizing it).

There is a spread on the dining room, three heavy brown paper bags not just of breakfast sandwiches wrapped in checkered paper but biscuits in syrupy gravy, french toast sticks with honey yellow syrup, and a whole tray of tater tots that Jin pops into his mouth with a satisfying crunch. Half of the pack is still in their pajamas; it can't be later than 11.

Namjoon and Jimin are noticeably absent from the table- at work. But Hobi, Jin, and Tae are setting up the plates. Jungkook's already showered from his morning run- his hair all locky and tangled.

Tae looks a vision in a pair of flared yoga pants and Yoongi just blinks at her thighs, not realizing he’s staring until Hobi pinches his thigh for it. You laugh too and pull out the chair next to him with a squeak while Hobi hands out sandwiches and Jungkook cuts them into perfect triangles.

Yoongi blinks down at his plate, and he’s got a quarter of everyone’s sandwich on his, easily more than he can eat but still- You trade, cutting thirds and halves to try them all. Yoongi stares at them and feels fresh wetness on his lash line. Tae notices him staring, and she’s got sesame seeds stuck in what's left of her lipstick when she smiles.

“We didn’t know what you liked- so we got you two.”

And oh, Yoongi can’t breathe. The love in his chest bullies away the oxygen. How lucky he is to have people that get him two sandwiches instead of one, how lucky he is to have a house full of laughter and warm bellies and-

Hobi gets him a cup of coffee, Jin nurses his, thick-rimmed glasses and warm cheeks chubby as he looks across the table at Yoongi like he knows. He leans across the table to tangle their hands while he flips through his phone. Leaving the beta to his overfull heart.

“Tae- your nail appointment isn’t until 1- would you like Jinnie to curl your hair for you?”

“Can we try a new style this time? Space buns?” Tae asks so so sweetly- already wearing lipgloss even though she must have barely left the house. The smile never falters, just spreads wider when he stares at the glossy pink.

Jin hums, happy, "Of course."

"I love you guys" Yoongi whines. looking at Jin because he can't look at you. Telling everyone- because he can't tell just you. And really it's the truth. Jin blinks and looks up at him. A smile spreading on his chubby cheeks.

"Aw- someone's sappy." Hobi teases. "For the record, love you too"

"for the record; He just woke up" You peck the back of Yoongi's neck and shivers erupt all over his body. you lean behind him to swat at Hobi's shoulder. "Give him a break." The sound of chairs scraping hides Yoongi's whine and his blush.

"For the record, Love you too bun,"

Tae snorts, eyebrows knitting together as Jungkook sits on her lap instead of the chair right next to him. "Weird, but I like it" she pauses, "for the record."

Yoongi rolls his eyes, "oh my god stop-"

"For the record; Hobi started it."

"You guys call me bunny and bun all the time- I should be able to use it too!" Jungkook smirks, pausing for dramatic effect. "for the record."

Yoongi groans and you giggle. "Okay I'm done," Yoongi's smiling anyway

You sit, a little clumsy, and your coffee spills a little onto the dark wood table. Jin wipes it up with a tut, eyes still on the schedule. “There’s nothing else much for today just Tae’s appointment. Anyone else want to do anything?”

“Wanna cook together tonight?” You ask, Yoongi pulls your chair over to rest against his properly, he can still pull you over with little effort but it’s getting harder each day.

It’s a good sort of hard. You have half of a sandwich on your plate a quarter of Tae’s and another small corner in your hand half gone already. Yoongi should start working out with Jungkook- so that he’s as strong as you need him to be.

You look at him, and then down at your nearly pressing thighs, “wanted you to be closer to me.” He says, and then cringes, Hobi laughs at him and hits his plate with a metal clink. You just hum and turn back to your breakfast. Yoongi can see the smile in the curve of your cheek, can see it in full when he turns your face to wipe away the sesame seeds stuck to your mouth too.

"Yeah, what do you want to make Jin?"

You talk it through. You and Yoongi and Jin- easily launching into what you'll make, what you'll bake and barter for another night of full bellies and a full house of love. and although it involves a trip to a grocery store, it's easily set into motion.

Hobi asks you if you’ll walk with him to work today, he has to go in a few minutes and it’s not that far of a walk. 10 minutes. Half a mile.

But you say you’ll go only if Yoongi does too and he’s agreeing before he even realizes it. But as far as mornings go, walking Hobi to work and getting to walk home with you isn’t the worst way things could go. Not by far. Neither is the way that you tug his jacked tighter against his throat in the doorway of the flower shop. The roses in the windowsill all yellow.

“I’m really not all that cold.”

“Still, I always want you to be warm”

"I like taking walks after breakfast," you say after another few minutes of walking. Light. Calm. The cold air encourages more pink from your cheeks. The sun streaming through the leafless branches now that the storm has pulled off.

"We can do it tomorrow if you want." Whatever you want.

Maybe you’ll even hold hands (you will, Yoongi will reach for your hand first, and you’ll walk in quiet that isn’t so quiet all turn to you pointing to someone’s porch and the flowers they’ve already put out in their pots. Bright pansies, splotches of color among the springtime drudgery, and the million shades of grey and taupe.

“Do you think we can plant flowers soon?” Yoongi will say maybe, but Hobi will bring a flat of pansies home before either of you can text and ask.

But that will be later. For now, Yoongi just looks at you next to him on the dining room table, thumb rubbing up and down your thigh, forgetting to chew as he looks at you. Forgetting to take a bite of the sandwich slowly falling apart in his hands. The cheese and the egg sliding out. Both yellow, both yummy, both needed.

Yoongi looks at you until Tae reaches over to pinch his thigh and he jumps. The egg in his sandwich slips out, hitting his plate with a slap.

Yoongi smiles, (really, the love is spreading like wildfire, slipping in through the windows like beams of sunlight, moving easily and unabated, like light through air).

“Eat your breakfast hyung- it’s getting cold.” She chirps.

Yoongi gladly complies, hungrier than he's been in years.

(In the end, forgiveness is not something that is inevitable. Forgiveness is something that you want to give, you have to want it with that person and they have to want it too. You have to give.

Yoongi will give and give and give.)

~-~

It happens on one of those evenings:

The nesting room is silent with the sound of sleeping packmates. The long curtains piled on the floor and two sets of bunny slippers sit unattended by the nest entrance because Jungkookie’s toes get cold sometimes and you like to match. His blue and yours pink. The Christmas lights up above are dimmed to a soft moonlit glow, lighting the bodies of your sleeping pack; gentle and heaped like sweet pavlova.

The door at the top of the stairs is open. There’s nothing to keep out tonight; no darkness or bad dreams. Nothing to fight off besides the vague feeling of childlike adventure that you gladly welcome inside. Not the sound of Noodle zooming around downstairs or the creeks of the house that’s almost finished.

Almost, it’s getting there. Yoongi has been working hard.

You and Hobi turn restless tonight. The only ones truly awake. Not with unease or with nightmares- too real and long gone. It’s not the memories of people with silver hair and dishonest smiles that keep you awake. Those villains are for dragons vanquished or papers in ashes that will never rise again to taunt you with their secrets.

There is no tower that you’re trapped in, at least not physically. Even mentally too. Any mental foes or sickness left in the confines of your head can wait until a later date.

Maybe it’s because of the full moon, the pearl bubble of your soul that matches and turns and keeps you awake, restless beneath the pink light. Maybe it’s because you both napped earlier with Yoongi in the nesting pod.

You’ve been doing that a lot more frequently over the last few days, taking little moments with Yoongi; spending breakfast in bed, cooking together most nights, sitting next to him always. Even small dates. Not even fancy ones but silly little outings that make you feel younger than you are.

Trips to his old coffee shop where he met Jin. His and Hobi's old record store, and Hobi's flower shop. Sometimes you leave separately and meet there to make it feel more like a date date. And Yoongi pretends he's surprised by the color of lipstick that Tae chose and you admire the ruffle of his tousled hair (he fussed with it for a few minutes in his car).

You'd never had a chance to date properly the first time.

It makes your relationship feel newer than it is. It makes you feel like you're making an effort instead of just having fun with your mate. It makes you feel like the drips of yellow paint on your sleeve- that had gotten there during the little sip and paint that you did last Thursday.

You'd gotten so giggly on cheap wine that you had to call Namjoon to pick you both up. You’d gotten handsy in the backseat and filled the car with the scent of arousal strong enough that Namjoon’s knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel. Barely a brain cell to scrape together to concentrate on driving.

Or the next day when you’d gotten dolled up just to go to different bakeries and sample cakes, eating them in the car with the windows rolled all the way down and the heat blasting. “This ones so good, have a bite.”

The two of you might be foodies actually, you might have found a shared hobby with it- testing pastries and food. You like the little things like fancy chocolates and fancy teas. It’s going to be your thing- the sweets. You can tell.

But for now, Yoongi sleeps peacefully not far from you as you look over at Hobi, eyes open in the darkness, face upturned, chest rising and falling just a bit too quick for him to be totally asleep. The windows are open and the night air is cool. You can press as close to the others as you want and you won't get too hot. You'd taken full advantage of this hours ago, snug tight under Namjoon's arm. His soft snore a special sort of lullaby.

You haven’t felt this calm in years. It doesn't make you choke up because you've felt this way before and you're getting used to it. The springtime air smells like rain, like the ocean already although you know it sits miles and miles away.

It might be another false spring- but the pack takes what it can get.

The nest is still quiet when you turn to Hobi and find his eyes open and bright in the darkness. Namjoon’s phone on the shelf reads 5:04 am. It's early enough to go back to bed but instead, you scoot over to Hobi when you see he’s awake, gently setting yourself first over Namjoon’s chest and then sliding down his other side to get to him.

Quieting Hobi’s sleepy giggles with an equally sleepy kiss pressed unhurried to his lips. His hands come up loosely to circle your waist, tired, sleepy. Your lips stay pressed for a breath too long. And Hobi shivers at the feeling of your warm skin pressed to his cold cheek.

It’s still dark outside, not even the faintest breath of the sunrise cresting the trees. You lie there on your stomach, looking at him and stroking a hand down his cheek in the darkness. You just watch him until he turns at you. A bright mischievousness in his eyes. A bad idea or a very good one depending on how you look at it- cresting his mind.

“You know if we leave right now, we can probably get to the beach before sunrise.”

Bad ideas are made better when chased with dreams, it’s only been a month since everything went down, and maybe two since this got normal between the two of you. The kissing, the looks, the touching. That’s different, but it's still just you and Hobi.

He's still your best friend.

The softness runs a little deeper now. He'll always understand you a little better, a little more than the others. Although you'll give them a few years to try and catch up. Hoseok's love is a little softer, like a sunrise instead of a sunset. With no bursts of color just dark blue one minute and light blue the next, baby blue to blush tones to that weird yellow green of the sunlight.

You smile into the next kiss, eyes opening wider now, and you know you won't easily go back to sleep. “Yeah? Want to go?”

His kiss already tastes like saltwater. “Yeah, come on.”

Getting out of the nest without rousing your packmates proves to be too much of a challenge. (And really you think Yoongi would have a heart attack if you tried to leave without at least telling him where you've gone. He might have forgiven you, but you know better than to poke at his wounds.)

Namjoon groans while Yoongi blinks away the darkness behind his eyes, a big hand closing around your wrists, stopping you when Hobi’s already off the bed. “Pups? Where are you-”

“Just to the beach Joonie,” Hobi ducks to press a kiss to Namjoon’s forehead the same moment you kiss Yoongi’s lips, puckering in sleep and making a soft sweet noise. Your mate smells so good- rolling waves of sweet chocolate- so good that it has you not wanting to leave at all. You linger, kissing Yoongi again when the temptation becomes too much.

He opens his eyes and grins at you. "Want company?"

“You don't have to, we’ll be careful! Promise.”

"Where you going?"

He blinks back his sleepiness but no sooner have you explained what you're doing than are Yoongi's arms going around your waist to pull you in. Sitting up too at the same time. Careful to keep his voice low to not wake the others.

“Let me come with,” Hobi is already grinning, hair sticking up in the back after he pulls a sweatshirt over his head. Namjoon shimmies to the end of the nest apparently coming too- only to knock into Seokjin because Namjoon is always sort of clumsy in the mornings and he always gets a bit tangled in the blankets you roll up to construct the edge of the nest.

Jin’s plush lips pout, eyes squinting in the darkness, “Guys? What’s-”

Then Jin trips over Jimin's legs and the alpha shoots up straight, jostling both Tae and Jungkook (folded under either arm) and everyone is awake and sharing plans.

You tug on warmer clothes because Jin fusses; fuzzy socks, and thick cable knit sweaters. Jin doesn’t bother to put his contacts in, black-rimmed glasses balancing on his nose. A thick scarf that he won’t really need teasing at his rosy cheeks.

together you guide a soft and sleepy Jk down the stairs. Scrubbing at his eyes all puppy cute while you’re morning zoomy. Barely pausing to kick off your bunny slippers. Jimin gets down to tie Tae’s laces so she doesn’t have to bend over so early in the morning.

By the time you get down to the ground floor of the house, the light is already turning the sky a lighter shade of blue. And Hoseok is pushing everyone out the door, sometimes physically, with cries of “Quick! Before we miss it!”

For once, you don’t take two cars. This time you pile all in Hobi’s red car (thankfully gotten back from the police with all but minimal scratches and a hefty fine that Namjoon had reluctantly paid). You sit on each other's laps, ducking your head whenever you see oncoming cars in case they might be cops. (You haven't learned your lesson quite yet, but there is time- you don't have to grow up quite yet).

Tae sits on Jimin’s lap. Hands wrapped around her middle, talking softly over the color of her nails (yellow with chrome, making them look almost buttery). Jungkook sits on Namjoon's lap (the alpha tucks his face into Jungkook’s hair, a little long, a little shaggy, intent on going back to sleep.) And you sit in the middle seat on Yoongi's (playing with your mate's hands, turning them over and over again in yours, until he squeezes them lacing them through.)

The pack omega gets princess treatment on account of having the longest legs. Feet Crossed daintily on the dashboard where it not for his thick slides. Hobi drives and fucks with the playlist. But he doesn't need one. Leaves it alone for once in favor of listening.

Yoongi laughs and you ask him why he is. "Don't take this the wrong way but your ass is so boney, my leg is going numb."

"See! I told you you should come with me to pilates!"

"I'm no princess-"

"No- that's me." Jin snorts from the front seat.

"Joonie that tickles."

It’s only a 15-minute drive on the windy backroads, not so unsafe. Not so necessary that you’ll think about taking two cars and separating your little bundle of love into two places. Headlights crest the hills of shrub roses and shrub oak trees, leggy and just beginning to leaf out.

How is it nearly spring already? When did winter pass? Yoongi’s arms never release your waist, he keeps you like that, close and safe until you skitter into the parking lot.

Jin leaves his red scarf in the car. It sits there in the backseat, a heap of red thread whining over and over again, giving warmth that’s no longer needed. A string of fate organized and neat.

The parking lot at the beach is empty at this time of year and at this time of day. There is no snow piled up in heaps, only remnants in the forms of shallow silver pools and puddles that you traipse through with little regard to the state of your socks. The ocean air is warm, unseasonably so. You’re a mess of tangled limbs and pajamas. Laughs and- “oh my god I have to pee-”

Yoongi loses one of his slides on the way out and Jungkook steals it from the pavement. Running off with it and leaving him to hobble on one foot, only to bring it back after a second. And you let Yoongi place his hand on your shoulder for balance while he slides his sock back into it. Worried about getting his socks wet. His hair ruffled and eyes crusty but the sun-

The sun is bright and hot against your cheeks, wind whipping picking up your hair as it crests the horizon. You run out to the edge of the ocean, your legs fighting to keep up with Jungkook who's faster than you now that he's fully awake.

Water soaks pajama hems and you tread a little too close to the shore. It's low tide and the sea is far out. Sea spoils dot the wet sand, joining the reflection of the sky up above and the stars winking out one by one as the sky lightens slow.

You’re the first one to lift your hands, to shout and run as fast as you can (which isn’t very fast at all, so it’s a good thing they give you a head start) but the others follow without much preamble. Giggling and rushing to get to the sea in time.

It’s warm- the wind coming off the sea is warm and damp and lovely. Spring is here, happiness is here- and it might never be going away again. Not if you can help it and not if you hold onto it. You have seven other people to help you hold on tight and never let go.

No matter how hard it gets- you’ll hold onto it. You promise. (Promise me okay?)

Jungkook catches up to you first in the warm sunny sand. He picks you up and twirls you round and round. Shaking you a little, the same way that Noodle might shake a toy. You giggle, high and melodic.

You only see it for a second, spinning round and round- but the rest of them Seokjin, Namjoon, Hoseok, Tae, Jimin, Yoongi- they all stop where they’re running and watch. You’re dizzy when Jungkook stops, his grin pressed to your shoulder, arms hard under your shoulders. Clinging to him still- not putting you down because you’re dizzy and he’s still lifting you up.

“Jungkook- oh my god put me down- I’m heavy Koo- ” You’re a little panicked, a little startled, but laughing all the while.

“Not really. I can still carry you.” He tosses you up and catches you- shrieking even though you don’t really leave his hands. Clinging to him, scared of the weightlessness before he sets you down where you teeter, unsteady, dizzy but still laughing.

Your hands stay around his shoulders, on your tippy toes, and he raises his eyebrow at you.

The others catch up and Jimin leans down to squeeze around your middle. Salt air tickles your forehead.“You’re like hardly a work out-“

Yoongi’s teeth worry away at his lower lip, “guys-“

Jimin shows you it’s not a big deal by heaving you up and over his shoulder. leaving you shrieking again.

“Minnie no!”

"Minnie yes"

Jungkook and Jimin take off and Hobi and Yoongi chase them down, you feel a bit like a chew toy but in the best way, in the way that makes your stomach light and crinkly from the giggles and laughter. You end up with your knees in the sand and Jungkook against your stomach. Hobi behind you, hands fighting Jungkook's. wrestling over you until none of you have anymore energy for it. All of you are covered in sand but you're laughing so hard you taste salt.

You end up sitting there, at the edge of the storm line, where the sand goes hard and crusty at your feet but light and fluffy by your hands. You watch the rest of the sunrise like that. The good part. The best part when the colors bleed across the blue horizon line all yellow and gold.

Namjoon holds out a hand for Jin to get down, a bit more dignified than your sprawling mess of pups. And the pack omega leans sideways against Yoongi’s shoulder. Complaining squeakily about the state of his knees.

You settle against the sand. The eight of you curled close to keep out the last bit of cold. Eyes burning as you watch the sunrise and can't tear your eyes away. Until the sky turns that unmatched shade of blue, the kind that is never quite replicated by nature. Not in roses or daisies or in the color of people’s eyes. Everything blue blue blue.

Your sweatshirt is one of Yoongi's, the same color. Tae’s nails are that purple-blue too as she holds Jimin’s hand in the sand. The same color as the tiny piece of sea glass that Hobi pulls from between his legs because he somehow always finds sea glass. The best at finding lost things.

His hand slides around your middle, pulling you to rest firmly against the hollow of his chest. And his other raises to show you the little fleck of sea glass. Balanced on his index finger.

"It's a lucky find," you say. Hoseok hums behind you. Agreeing. Warm.

Later, you look over at him in the bagel shop (because if you’re going to have an early morning outing then it might as well come with breakfast and coffee.) You sit together with Hobi, Waiting for your sandwiches and your lattes.

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jin sit at one table and bicker over the merits of avocado toast. While Tae, Jimin, and Jungkook take over the other playing some game that involves flicking a quarter over each of their sides and playing footsie under the table too.

Although Namjoon and Jimin will get frustrated and tug all of the red and white metal tables together before long- No one has the mind for it yet. All of you are still sleepy and pupish and young in a way that you haven't been, haven't felt in such a long time.

Growing up can wait for a day more, growing up can always always wait.

(You haven't thought about it at all today- what Geumjae did to you. You haven’t thought about the hurts in your past at all today and you won’t, the day will pass and it won’t weigh on you, you won’t even notice. That’s the way healing goes- you hardly notice)

(Later there will be food and you won’t think about eating it at all. Hoseok will make your sandwich up just the way you like it and you won't even have to ask for it. You'll eat the same way you love, messy like children but with so much hope in it.)

At the bagel shop, You’ll reach over and wipe your thumb across his lips to get some cream cheese off and it will be the first breakfast of many you’ll spend with him. How lovely is it- to get to spend mornings with the people you love? How lovely it is to lose track of the days and hours and kisses. To not count first kisses anymore and only count more.

You and Hobi are quiet where you sit at the metal tables, it’s not an uncomfortable silence, unbroken by ego or arrogance or anything of the sort. He looks over and smiles at you.

And because he asks, “What are you thinking about?” You give him an honest answer.

“Being at the beach like that,” Your hands play with the piece of blue sea glass he got you, your pockets are full of them because you spent a few minutes once the sun was up walking until the others called you back. Hand in hand, stopping only to pick up more.

“With the sunrise and the sunlight all around us, It kinda felt like the world was giving me a really big hug, do you think that’s stupid?”

(Neither you nor Hobi is thinking about what was done to you. Not even a little bit, not even at all. I hope you never think about it either. I hope you get to have days where you don't remember. Where you forget what it was like to need to be strong. May the prey animal part of you that lingers in your body and remembers be turned soft and docile with age. May you forget what it's like to be hunted and afraid. I hope you forget him. The man who hurt you. I hope you forget what he looks like and the sound of his voice. I hope you forget it all.)

“I don’t think that’s stupid at all.”

He pulls his chair over to your side of the table and puts his chair right next to yours so that your thighs can touch. Even though it’s a public place and even though it’s probably not appropriate. He pecks your shoulder and squeezes around your waist extra tight, grinning. It’s an awkward sideways hug but he pulls you as close as he can until it forces a giggle from your stomach. His palms press flat against your stomach and his thumb rubs up and down. Slowly.

“In case you want one more, what’s another hug after all?”

~-~

Notes:

It's a sweet sort of irony, that this chapter is going to be posted when the people who live in the bily house are getting married <3 like what are the odds of that.

i think that this chapter is the real like- spot between the chapter chapters of bily and the epilogue! i think you can kind of feel it in the way that the chapter ends.

it's so like me to accidentally talk about tae's boobs for a few paragraphs i can't help it her tiddies are just so special to me. like 10/10, i saw a picture of dita von tess and just so you know...in my mind after tae gets a boob job- which she will- this is just me forshadowing it- thats the kinda tiddies she gets <3 cute lemon shaped ones!

the line about tae liking hyung more than oppa to use for the other members of the pack- is just kinda edgeing on an idea i've had for a while about my own gender thoughts- and thats that you can take what you like and what you don't like from each gender and make it what you want regardless of how you identify.

it's easy to forget that yoongi is also traumatized too you know? he needs so much hugs in this,

it always hits me how stylistically different i write the characters in bily- like this chapter i feel like i really got to develop yoongi's internal voice like- he's a very even cut of internal monologue, action, and sensation. different than the m/c who tends to be sensation first and then action, and jimin who is all bland sensation, and tae who has a very very strong internal monologue.

In many ways this chapter feels so like- stylistically light- like i think this entire series i've been trying to capture the feelings of found family- and you know-= this one gets alot of it right.

#bts x reader #bts mafia au #bts a/b/o #bts au #bts fluff #bts poly au #bts omegaverse au #bts polyamory au #bts #bts gang au

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