#namseok smut

[theharrowing]

Dollhouse 24 💛: Are you here alone?

Hoseok's job is simple: He enters the host's body, he confiscates or terminates the target, and he gets back into his own body by dinnertime, easy peasy. Until a client comes along who becomes as obsessed with his life as he becomes with theirs, and the lines between their realities begin to blur.

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💛 Hoseok x Namjoon, Jungkook x Yoongi 💛 word count: 15.1k words 💛 hired assassin au, sci-fi, body swapping, graphic violence, infidelity, body dysphoria, lgbtq, smut, fluff, angst, poly, nsfw, smut, 21+ 💛 chapter warnings: rough oral & anal sex, slapping, spitting, use of safe word, humiliation, use of the word "whore", cum on face, paranoid feelings, Hoseok making more terrible fucking choices. Hoseok spirals.

💛 notes: wow, uhhhh...idk how i ended up writing a chapter this long, but here we gooooo!!! we're so close to the end, ahhhh!!!! 💛 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 💛 posted april 2023 | read on ao3

The Boss: Hoseok-ssi. I know you have already left for the day, but a file has come across my desk that I would like you to have a look at. It is from a possible client in New Zealand, and you are the only one I trust to take on someone this high profile, but it will require jumping. I will need a response in the morning, so mull over whether you think you are up for it.

Hoseok does not hesitate to agree to the position without giving it much thought at all. A job in New Zealand could not have come at a better time. 

Hoseok: Count me in. I'm ready to jump again.  

The Boss: Wonderful. We will discuss more tomorrow.

Ordinarily, their dynamic is that Namjoon likes to bottom and Hoseok likes to top. A surprise to neither of them, really; Hoseok has always been a bit of a control freak, and Namjoon takes care of people so much professionally that he really enjoys being taken care of at home. Tonight, however, Hoseok is going to beg to be fucked. 

He gets home first, sends a text to Namjoon—

Hoseok: Hey baby, I need to discuss something very important with you, please come home as soon as possible.

—and preps himself in the shower. As soon as his phone dings, Hoseok reaches past the shower curtain, dries a hand on one of the nearby hanging towels, and clicks on the screen to find a notification waiting for him. 

Namjoon: On my way! 

Hoseok rinses himself, gets out of the shower, towels off, and then goes into the bedroom. First, he glances around and tries to decide on something to wear. He has his share of sexy lingerie, but he is unsure whether he is in a sexy lingerie mood. So, he sits on the edge of the bed nude and waits, thumbing through his phone for something to distract him. Typically, it takes Namjoon about fifteen minutes to get home from work, but sometimes he leaves in a rush and messages while already on his way, so Hoseok has no idea what to expect. 

He does his best not to let his mind wander, but lately, it feels like an impossible task. The files that Seokjin sent Hoseok seem to be pointing to a very obvious fact, and Hoseok needs to do more digging in order to potentially corroborate the information. But he is also trying to keep his wits about him and not get too swept up in the excitement of everything. 

But what if, Hoseok wonders. What if Taehyung and Jimin really are—

The sound of Namjoon pulling into the driveway rips Hoseok from his thoughts, and he blinks heavily, looking down at his phone, the screen of which has shut off in his hands. He sets the device down onto the bedside table, and as the front door flies open, followed by the sounds of shoes thudding against the wall and the front door being thrown shut, Hoseok stands, walks into the center of the room, and gets down on his knees. 

"Seok?" Namjoon calls, voice sounding somewhat frantic.

Hoseok has to bite back a grin, feeling affection bloom around his ribs. 

"Up here, baby!"

Namjoon barrels up the stairs, feet stomping hard enough that he must be taking two at a time with his palm rubbing against the railing—a cacophony of sound Hoseok has become all too familiar with over the years. And although the bedroom door is already partially ajar, Namjoon pushes it roughly, slamming it into the door stop on the wall while he glances around, disheveled and worried. 

As soon as his eyes land on Hoseok, Namjoon stops in his tracks, nearly tripping on his feet. Hoseok has to bite down onto the inside of his bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

"Seok," Namjoon gasps, out of breath with a look of shock on his face. 

Hoseok smiles softly, resting his palms over his knees while he stares up at his husband, watching as his brain buffers. If the roles were reversed, Hoseok would already be loosening his tie and telling Namjoon what a good little toy he is. But Namjoon always requires a little nudge.

"What," Namjoon tries again, glancing around at the bedroom, which looks just as it did when he left in the morning, as if there may be more clues to explain why his husband is nude and waiting in a submissive position. "I thought—you said—"

"Baby," Hoseok interrupts sweetly. "I do have something urgent that I would like to discuss with you. But first..." Hoseok raises an eyebrow and tips his head back delicately while letting his lips softly part—a flower opening to the sunlight.

"But first...?" Namjoon asks, walking into the bedroom with his arms hanging stiffly at his sides. 

"I need you to fuck me," Hoseok says, reveling in the way Namjoon's eyes widen. "Please."

"Ah," Namjoon responds, hands rising to his grey shirt to begin working his buttons open. "Uh—of course. Yeah, of course. I can do that."

"Yeah?" Hoseok asks sweetly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Namjoon shrugs quickly out of his shirt, throwing it to the floor despite being only a few feet from the closet hamper. He tears his white tee over his head, fumbles to undo his belt, and shoves his slacks to the floor, leaving a trail of garments in his wake as he walks to Hoseok in his black socks and grey briefs. 

"Yeah," Namjoon sighs, appearing somewhat dazed with his dark hair messy around his face.

"Did I worry you, baby?" Hoseok teases, blinking his eyelashes dramatically.

Namjoon's face becomes a little more stern; finally, he seems to be getting into character. 

"You did."

Hoseok pushes his bottom lip out in a pout and whines, "I guess you should punish me," which is the final push Namjoon seems to need to get into the mindset, gaze sharpening while he rolls his shoulders back and towers tall over him.

"What's the goal, baby?" Namjoon asks as he reaches a hand out and cards it through Hoseok's damp hair.

"Make me forget," Hoseok responds, voice shaking ever so slightly through his words. "Want to just...cease to exist for a little while."

The hand in Hoseok's hair grips tightly and pulls straight up, elongating his back, and he attempts to alleviate the pain by following the pull until all he can do is whimper and take it. With his other hand, Namjoon gently grasps Hoseok by the jaw and squeezes, pressing his lips together, searching his face as if deciding what to do with him. Then Namjoon releases his jaw and slaps him across the cheek, hard and loud, and Hoseok gasps a deep, sharp intake of air, too shocked to make a sound. 

"Color?" Namjoon asks softly.

"Green," Hoseok pants, feeling alive as the pain settles and spreads warm across his skin. 

Namjoon's fist tightens around Hoseok's hair, and he slaps Hoseok on the same cheek, then pulls his hand back and backhands his other cheek in a swift, surprising motion, making Hoseok sob through the sting. 

"Fuck," Hoseok gasps.

"Color?"

"Yellow."

Softly, Namjoon pets the backs of his fingers over Hoseok's cheeks. Hoseok's eyelids flutter shut, and he lets out a deep, pleased exhale. But Namjoon yanks on his hair, forcing Hoseok's eyes open.

"Eyes on me!" he commands, and Hoseok shouts, "Yes, sir!" instinctively. 

"Sir?" Namjoon asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Not daddy?"

Hoseok shakes his head in small, quick movements. Not daddy. Daddy reminds him...makes him think of...

"Hmm," Namjoon groans with a devious grin. "I think I want you to call me daddy, though."

"Joon," Hoseok pleads, whimpering when his hair is pulled roughly. "Baby—sir, please!"

Namjoon crouches before Hoseok, still somewhat taller, but nearly eye-level, and he cocks his head to the side, holding tightly to his hair. 

"You don't want to be reminded of him, do you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft, almost sympathetic. 

Somehow, Hoseok feels the overwhelming urge to cry. 

"No," he mutters pathetically. "No, I don't want to be reminded of him."

After a pause, Namjoon says, "You will call me daddy," while taking Hoseok's jaw in his hand once more, squeezing just enough for it to ache. "By the time I'm done with you, that word will only remind you of me. Are we clear?"

"Yes—" Hoseok whimpers, voice caught in his throat as tears rise to his eyes. 

Namjoon squeezes tighter, and Hoseok knows it is a signal to finish his sentence.

"D-daddy," he says, choked by the vines that squeeze and squeeze. "Yes, daddy."

"Good boy," Namjoon growls as he stands. 

Namjoon steps forward, crowding Hoseok's space with his cheek gently pressed against his soft cock. The delicate musk of Namjoon's sweat and sweet scent of fabric softener has Hoseok's mouth watering, and he lifts his hands, eager to pull the briefs away. 

"Keep your hands on your knees," Namjoon instructs as he yanks Hoseok's face forward, crashing his nose and lips into his bulge. 

Hoseok huffs warmth through the fabric and allows his lips to drag, hypnotized by the familiar feeling of his husband's semi-erect yet heavy dick as it slowly hardens against him. He takes a deep inhale, desperate for his senses to be filled only with the scents of Namjoon and home. 

"Do you deserve my cock?" Namjoon asks teasingly, grinding Hoseok's face into him.

"No," Hoseok whimpers pathetically. 

"That's right," Namjoon responds, using his thumb to tug down on the waistband of his briefs until Hoseok's nose is buried in dark, rough hair. "You don't deserve my cock. You're lucky I don't force you to watch me fuck someone else."

Shame fills Hoseok's chest, weighing heavily. He knows it is true; he agrees.

"I bet my coworker Hoseok would break me in half. He's so strong. I bet he would fuck me so good." 

Hoseok's heart pounds; it aches. Namjoon's coworker Lee Hoseok is an absolute beefcake of a man, and he has seen the shy way he looks at his husband. They have even joked in the past about Namjoon leaving him for his coworker of the same name, but this time, it does not feel like a joke. This time, it stings.

"How would that make you feel?” Namjoon continues. “Me calling your name for another man?"

A sob shakes through Hoseok's chest, and before he can stop himself, tears begin to fall from both eyes; sadness and maybe a sense of relief. 

"Namjoon, please," Hoseok groans, burying his face against his husband's crotch while his nails dig into the skin of his knees.

"What about Soyoon?" Namjoon asks, voice still just as deep and laced with playful hints that swirl with anger. "Wouldn't she look so pretty sprawled out on the blue comforter, squeezing her thighs around my head?"

"Baby—" Hoseok whimpers. He does not want to think about Namjoon's shy, mysteriously gorgeous coworker like that. 

"That's not what you call me," Namjoon responds curtly with a squeeze to Hoseok's hair. 

Sadness wells over—bursts like a dam as Hoseok shouts, "Daddy!"

"Beg me," Namjoon commands, shoving his briefs down lower with one hand. 

"Please, daddy. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me apologize."

"Make it up to me?" Namjoon scoffs, making the vines squeeze Hoseok's sorry little heart. "How could you possibly do that?"

"Please," Hoseok sobs, tears pouring down his cheeks. All he wants is to suck Namjoon's cock and make him feel good. He just wants to be used and hurt until he can no longer comprehend the world around him. 

Namjoon's briefs slide past his thighs and hit the floor, and Hoseok looks up through his eyelashes pleadingly. From here, Namjoon may as well be a god towering over him; massive, omnipotent, and unforgiving. 

"Open," Namjoon instructs.

Hoseok tilts his head back and lets his mouth fall open, tongue rolled out flat. With two fingers, Namjoon presses onto his tongue, slowly sliding back into Hoseok's throat and out, back and forth. The urge to gag makes tears continue to stream from Hoseok's eyes, and saliva begins to pool under and along the edge of his tongue. 

"Gonna use this pretty mouth," Namjoon groans as he leans forward, pulls his fingertips to the end of Hoseok's tongue, and spits.

Hoseok gasps, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as the spit settles on his tongue. Humiliation is not something Namjoon usually enjoys; he must be really angry. 

Namjoon stands tall once more—a looming presence—and Hoseok pleads with his eyes, eager for Namjoon to let out some of his wrath. He just wants things to be back to normal between the two of them, despite knowing it will probably never be the way it was before. If hurting him is a way to achieve that goal, then Hoseok wants to hurt. He needs to. 

Namjoon's cock hangs heavy and leaking, and Hoseok tilts his chin toward it, flicking his tongue until it hits velvety skin. Another rough tug on Hoseok's hair makes him sob; he has gotten used to the steady pull, but the skin has also settled into a state of soreness that is easily exacerbated. 

"What an eager little whore," Namjoon teases, lightly smacking his fingertips over Hoseok's tongue, filling him with the urge to cough. "Alright, if you're that desperate, suck my cock."

"Thank you, daddy," Hoseok mutters softly as Namjoon's grip on his hair loosens. He licks up Namjoon's shaft as best as he can.

Without his hands, however, Hoseok cannot quite reach the tip. With a frustrated huff, Hoseok attempts to sit higher on his knees, but he is just barely out of reach. 

Namjoon laughs, filling Hoseok head to toe with shame, and he takes his cock in one hand and smacks it against Hoseok's eager tongue before letting it go to hit his stomach.

"Daddy," Hoseok whines with his tongue half hanging from his mouth.

"What's the matter, little whore? Do you need me to help you with everything?"

Namjoon's words begin to cut so deep, causing the vines to squeeze so hard, Hoseok swallows twice to rid his throat of the lump that continues to gather. The urge to cry grows stronger.

With an exaggerated sigh, Namjoon tilts his hips, takes the base of his shaft in his hand, and flicks it down, hitting Hoseok on the lips. Hoseok whimpers as his mouth falls open, and he attempts to wrap his lips around the tip, but Namjoon keeps moving it—keeps fucking with him.

"Christ, Namjoon," Hoseok snaps, and Namjoon's grip on his hair tightens, making him wince. 

"What's the matter, Seok?" Namjoon growls, standing tall with his eyes squinted and something dark burning behind them. "Don't like being toyed around with, hmm?"

Tears threaten to break, and Hoseok blinks rapidly to chase the feeling away. 

"No," he mutters pathetically, feeling his body fall limp and causing his hair to tug more. 

Namjoon yanks Hoseok back to his knees—back to sitting up just as high as before—and Hoseok whimpers from the feeling, but allows his mouth to fall open. He wants Namjoon to use him, despite the myriad emotions this scene is conjuring inside him. He needs Namjoon to let his feelings out. 

"Open," Namjoon instructs, and Hoseok sighs as his tongue lolls flat from his mouth.

The tight grip on Hoseok's hair becomes a dull sensation once more, and as Namjoon slides his cock roughly into his throat, Hoseok breathes through the urge to gag, feeling tears along his eye line begin to break. Hoseok closes his lips and sucks, doing his best to swallow back in time with Namjoon's thrusts and make it feel good for him. 

Namjoon groans and places his hand under Hoseok's chin, making the squeeze in his throat tighter. Hoseok feels as if his head is caught in some sort of loose vice grip—like if he attempts to rest on his knees, Namjoon will continue to roughly hold him suspended in the air. 

The sounds Hoseok's throat begin to make as Namjoon thrusts deeper and harder are low and guttural, bordering gags and moans, sending a chill through him. The thick saliva that gathers is even worse. 

Hoseok nearly fears for his ability to breathe as Namjoon's cock drives further, but he feels powerless to do anything to stop the deep, hurried thrusts, and his eyes roll back as he makes attempts to suck air in through his nose. His body starts to go limp and his ears begin to ring. 

When Namjoon pulls out entirely, Hoseok gasps a horrendous involuntary sound, and he crashes to the floor, realizing a second too late that Namjoon has let his hold on him go.

"Seok," Namjoon says, but he does not sound concerned. He sounds annoyed. Inconvenienced. 

Hoseok blinks heavily, hot tears stream down his face, and he swallows hard to push back all the thick, phlegmy spit. As he stares down at his hands, seeing the way his fingernails cut into his skin, he barely recognizes himself. He seems paler. Weaker. 

Namjoon sighs.

"I don't fucking get you," he says. "You call me here like it's some kind of emergency, then completely dissociate."

Hoseok is almost certain that this is not what dissociating is, but he is not in his right mind to argue. And, anyway, what would be the point? His voice cracks, and the first part of his sentence gets stuck somewhere unvoiced, as he mutters, "—being too rough."

"Alright, sorry," Namjoon says as his weight shifts from one leg to the other. He does not sound sorry.

Hoseok hums, looks up, and holds his mouth open, shuttering as he takes in Namjoon's distant, angry glare. 

"I can do it," he mutters, "let's keep going."

Without a word, Namjoon takes Hoseok by the face in one hand and slides his cock back into his mouth. Hoseok is somewhat surprised; he expected the tears and overall distress to stop Namjoon. He expected to have to beg. 

"Feels good," Namjoon groans as the tip of his cock hits the back of Hoseok's throat, but not hard enough to make him lurch. "Fuck, baby, your mouth always feels so good."

Hoseok's eyelids flutter closed, and he moans as he swallows back, gently gripping his fingertips into nail-dug skin as he does his best to breathe through each languid thrust. 

Sucking Namjoon's cock is always a treat. The heavy weight of him, girth stretching his lips just slightly too much, the salty-sweet taste of his heady precome. Namjoon is heaven.

As Hoseok relaxes further into the feeling of his husband using his mouth, his tears fall less frequently, and his hands fully relax over his knees. He can forgive Namjoon for his outburst; he knows he deserves it. In fact, he deserves far worse. 

"Swallow around me," Namjoon commands softly, rubbing his thumb along the edge of Hoseok's mouth, smearing spit on his skin. Hoseok does as he is told, earning him a deep, pleased groan.

"That's it, fuck, so good. Gonna come soon, baby. Not gonna last long."

There is a voice in Hoseok's head that tells him that Namjoon not lasting too long is a good sign. Namjoon must not have already come today—always having more stamina the second time—and therefore, he must not be cheating on him. After all, Hoseok has expected his long evenings at work and out with coworkers to result in cheating. It is what he feels Namjoon owes him after everything he has put him through, but the thought of his big, dumb cutie being unfaithful does make him sad. 

Of course, Namjoon could still be cheating; Hoseok did call him to come right home today, after all. Hoseok chooses not to dwell on it.

Instead, Hoseok sucks eagerly, even rolls his tongue when he can, anxious to make his husband come. Namjoon groans and gasps, sounds becoming louder and more desperate, hips picking up speed. With both hands, Namjoon grips Hoseok by the sides of his face and begins to trust a little harder. 

Air and spit sputter out from the sides of Hoseok's mouth, and he does his best to sit pretty and let Namjoon use him as he needs. He can feel his face warm as the lack of sufficient oxygen makes it harder and harder for him to breathe, and his fingertips once again dig into his knees. 

Luckily, Namjoon chases his high quickly. With two more powerful thrusts, Namjoon presses in far enough to make white burst in Hoseok's vision at the loss of oxygen before he pulls out completely and comes on Hoseok's face. Hoseok heaves for air, doing his best not to cough, eager to stay as still as he can as Namjoon paints his face. 

Once he has caught his breath, Hoseok holds out his tongue to catch the last of the release, then attempts to lick as much of it from around his mouth as he can. Come drips down his cheeks and slides down the slope of his nose, and Namjoon stands, cock fisted overhead a little longer before he steps away, toward the bathroom. 

"Felt good," Namjoon calls just before turning on the faucet. 

Hoseok lets out a sigh of relief. His heart and lungs ache, feeling tightly wound with emotion. He would love to curl up and fall asleep, but—despite everything he is feeling—he still wants to get held down and fucked. He wants it so badly, his entire body vibrates for it—every nerve needs it. 

Viscous, watery fluid leaks down Hoseok’s chin, mingling with the drool that has pooled, then drops down to his chest. Namjoon must be really well-hydrated; his release is more watery than sticky today. 

Namjoon returns with a small grey washcloth that looks darkened by water, and he slowly approaches, smiling down at Hoseok as he surveys the mess he has made. Then he squats, still sitting taller than Hoseok by several inches, gazing down at him with a smirk. 

“So pretty covered in my come,” Namjoon mutters. “All mine.”

“Yours,” Hoseok rasps, throat feeling sore. 

Namjoon gently rubs the cold, damp rag over Hoseok’s face, taking extra care to wipe his chin, neck, and chest, covering his body in goosebumps as the cool sensation shivers through him. All the while, Hoseok’s palms stay rested on his knees. 

All yours, Hoseok thinks. If only he could believe in the conviction of the words. 

When Hoseok arrives at his office at 8 AM on the dot, The Boss is standing beside his door with her arms folded over her chest, gripping onto a manila folder. She wears thick, dark sunglasses despite being indoors, adorned in one of her long, black dresses that covers her from neck to wrist to ankle—a dress fit for a funeral. Hoseok wonders if it will be his own life that she will be mourning as he reaches a hand out to take the document. 

"New Zealand?" Hoseok asks, realizing with a pang of anxiety that he forgot to mention this job to Namjoon last night, too distracted by getting fucked within an inch of his life.

The Boss hums. "We need to bring the man back to Korea to carry out the assassination order, so your primary duty is to jump and lead him to us."

"Of course," Hoseok says as he punches in the code to his office door and pushes it open with his palm.

"And I assume you got rid of Kim Seokjin?" The Boss asks, stopping Hoseok in his tracks. 

Hoseok clears his throat and mutters, "Yeah," then turns to face The Boss. "I asked him to provide substantial evidence for his claims, and he has not gotten in touch since. Perhaps he knew what we would find in his background check and decided not to pursue it further."

"That is a relief," The Boss states. "We have found…something…but we are working on substantiating it, first."

"Found something?" Hoseok asks, knitting his brows. "What?"

"I—" The Boss begins, then she cocks her head to the side, and Hoseok can see her mulling her words over. "Let's hold off on this conversation until the results come back."

Ordinarily, Hoseok would argue. It is a big pet peeve of his when someone begins to share information only to rescind it. But today, he has no fight in him, and he nods his head and mutters, "Fine."

"Everything alright at home?" The Boss asks. 

Hoseok knows this tone, and he cracks an unconvincing smile and says, "For the most part." 

Namjoon is a liability are the words Hoseok recalls, spoken by The Boss more times than he would like to admit. He knows she does not care how things at home are. He knows that she feels he would be better at his job if he was not married at all. Surely, bringing Namjoon onto the team has not changed that. 

"That's good," The Boss responds flatly before she turns around and leaves. 

With a glare, Hoseok watches after her, then he walks to his desk and throws himself into the uncomfortable chair that sits before it, wincing from the soreness of his ass—a reminder of the night before. As he lifts the file and allows it to fall open, he sees an image of an older man who appears to be Korean, dressed in a suit. There is nothing about the man that stands out in any way, and Hoseok reads through the file quickly. The mission is to jump into the man's advisor's body—against the advisor's will—and hand the two of them over to a team that will escort them back to Korea. Easy enough. 

Hoseok sighs and tosses the folder onto his desk, letting the papers fly from it and fall over the opposite edge, landing on his leather chair, and possibly on the floor. New Zealand is still a bit of a trek to Australia, but it is closer than he is now. Hoseok looked up flights last night, right after Namjoon fell asleep. 

The information Seokjin gave him seems pretty clear. Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung popped up on Seokjin's radar the day The Boss claimed Yoongi and Jeongguk went missing. The crimes that Park and Kim are allegedly running from seem to have all been fabricated in order to get Hoseok's attention. But why? Why is Seokjin unable to come right out and tell Hoseok point blank that these bodies may be hosting the consciousnesses of the men he is searching for, if that is, in fact, what Seokjin is trying to say? What does Seokjin have to lose? What could his connection to them be?

The phone on Hoseok's desk rings. He lets out a heavy sigh as he stands from the chair, rounds his desk, and picks up the receiver, staring down at the paperwork that is scattered on his office chair and the floor. 

"This is Jung," Hoseok says, making a failed attempt to not sound absolutely dead inside. 

"Hoseok-ssi," The Boss says, and Hoseok hums in response, "the target has just made a reservation at the Sofitel in Wellington, and appears to be checking out one week from today. In the event that he moves, I want to try to get to him first. What are the odds of getting you on a flight in the morning?"

Tomorrow morning is way too soon. Hoseok will hardly have a chance to explain to Namjoon what is going on, and what if his pivot to Australia winds up taking him a while? How long will he be away from his husband on such short notice?

"Tomorrow morning is fine," Hoseok responds, nibbling on his bottom lip. 

"Perfect." The Boss responds, sounding pleased as she hangs up.

With a sigh, Hoseok hangs up the phone, then he slowly gets down on his knees to pick up the spilled paperwork and shove it back into the file folder. He considers what he is going to tell Namjoon, then he stands, grabs the papers from his chair, and places it all on top of his desk in a pile before picking up his office phone once more and dialing Namjoon's extension at work. 

It takes four rings before Namjoon picks up, and Hoseok is grateful that he is around rather than helping a patient. Namjoon's voice almost sounds foreign to Hoseok, with how chipper it is when he says, "This is Kim's office."

"Joon," Hoseok blurts, feeling a heavy wave of sadness settle over him from how unusual Namjoon's happy tone sounds, "hey, sorry for calling you at work."

"Oh," Namjoon responds, voice dropping, sounding concerned, "Seok, baby, is everything alright?"

Suddenly, Hoseok feels the weight of leaving the country pressing heavily on his shoulders and tears well into his eyes. He swallows a lump and breathes through the tight, tight squeeze as the vines snake through each rib. 

"Uh—I, uh…Yeah. Kind of."

"Can we talk about this in person, tonight?"

"It's The Boss. She wants to send me to New Zealand."

"Oh."

"Tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Hoseok rubs a hand over his cheek and closes his eyes, letting out a huff of air. Moments ago, he was somewhat content with everything, and now he feels stricken by regret. 

Namjoon sighs, and Hoseok braces himself, expecting the worst. Not that things could get much worse. 

"Well, I was going to take a trip home to visit my family in a few weeks, but maybe I'll push it up and leave this weekend."

"Oh?" 

Hoseok finds this news surprising; he had no idea Namjoon had been planning another trip home. Not that Ilsan is far at all, but typically, Hoseok travels with his husband. 

"Yeah. I just think I need a breather after everything that has happened, you know?"

Another breather. Only a few months ago, Namjoon went to Ilsan for a breather, and now he feels the need to go again?

"Alright," Hoseok responds, failing to sound positive. "That works out well, then."

A voice calls to Namjoon, and Hoseok's heart pounds heavily as Namjoon chuckles and says, away from the phone, "Sounds great, Yoon; be right there!" and then returns to Hoseok to say, "Lunch is here, so I am going to let you go. See you at home?"

Lunch with Soyoon. Soyoon brought Namjoon lunch. Hoseok does his best not to spiral.

"Alright. See ya," Hoseok mutters before hanging up and throwing himself down into his office chair. 

He wonders how things could get any more fucking cumbersome.

[Unknown]: Hoseok-ssi, this is KSJ. I have information on your boys. They have a reservation at the Park Hyatt in Sydney, with a checkout date of a next week Saturday. I hear the botanical garden is lovely this time of year.

Hoseok: When do they check in?

Hoseok watches as his message is never delivered. So communication with Seokjin is a one-way street. He supposes he can handle that. Briefly, his thumbs twitch as he considers calling the line he already had for the man, but if Seokjin is going out of his way to communicate through unknown numbers, Hoseok already knows he will not be reached on his main line.

Sydney is much closer to New Zealand than Perth, and Hoseok cannot help but wonder if this is no coincidence. But it has to be, right? There is no way Seokjin has managed to orchestrate another hit just to get him close to Australia. That seems ridiculous. Considering Seokjin never pressed Hoseok about the alleged and suspected charges, Hoseok wonders if he was never going to formally pursue a hit on the two men at all, but he just wanted Hoseok to pay attention to Park and Kim. 

It certainly does not seem impossible. Seokjin does not work for a government agency, but there is something about him…something that The Boss suspects. But what? Hoseok does find it quite interesting that both his target and his persons of interest seem to be making moves at the same time, and that hotel reservations are the specific pieces of information being fed to him by both his boss and Seokjin. Does Seokjin have some way of monitoring his correspondences? He is beginning to think like a conspiracy theorist.

Ever since Seokjin's visit, Hoseok has been spending less and less time watching the CCTV feeds. He no longer believes Yoongi and Jeongguk are likely to be in Japan. He knows it is foolish to think the two men in Australia could be them, but…what if? How else could they have disappeared without a trace?

By the time 6 PM rolls around, Hoseok shuts his monitor off, shoves his paperwork into his desk, and stands up, glancing around the office. Light dapples in through tall black and silver curtains, covering the room in a dreamy glow. 

Hoseok does not wish to ever return to this office. The more he takes in his surroundings, thinking about all the lives he has taken, and those he has lost, he feels a deep contempt and hatred, compounded by a sense of longing that almost settles into his bones like nostalgia.

He wonders if he would be better off never knowing Yoongi and Jeongguk. If he could turn back time, pursue a different line of work, and never cross their paths, he and Namjoon would not be so strained, and he would not be so set on disappearing completely. He is relieved that Namjoon is returning to Ilsan, to visit his family. He wonders if he should recommend Namjoon stays there a while longer. Possibly for good. 

With his face buried in his pillow for the second night in a row, Hoseok feels as if he may just be on the brink of total ascension. Soul leaving the body, and all that—enlightened beyond the realm of what is humanly imaginable. 

Namjoon fucks him slow and deep, pressing hard on the back of his head while his other hand grips the tip of Hoseok’s cock, squeezing any time he starts to feel close, as if Namjoon is hardwired to know precisely when he is ready to burst. 

Hoseok grips and claws at soft quilted fabric, breath ragged and hot, sticking to his skin as it condensates with nowhere else to go, suffocating him as his bliss ebbs and flows to high highs and abrupt stops. He could die like this. He practically begs Namjoon to press hard enough to cut off the flow of oxygen completely. 

“So fucking good for me,” Namjoon moans as he thrusts languidly. Two loads of his come squelch with every movement; Namjoon has been making Hoseok wait a long time before he can finish. Hoseok does not mind. “Gonna be so sore, you’ll feel me all the way to New Zealand, baby.”

Hoseok whimpers and squeezes the comforter harder, lamenting having to leave. He almost feels guilty for how quickly he knows he will forget about Namjoon the moment his feet touch new soil. Once he focuses on finding them, everything else will fade into obscurity. 

“On your back,” Namjoon mutters, voice sounding deep and broken as he pulls out and releases Hoseok’s cock, making him tremble and whine, feeling so terribly empty. 

Hoseok falls to his hip and takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut as he rolls onto his back. He squints his eyes open, blinking so as to not let in too much light, and Namjoon’s torso and neck come into view, flushed and covered in a layer of sweat. 

“Wanna look at you while I come inside you one last time,” Namjoon says, making Hoseok’s stomach churn from how final it all sounds, reminding him of the last time with Yoongi, when he said something similar. “Want to watch you come once more before you’re gone.”

“G-gone,” Hoseok mutters quietly, voice croaking around the word, throat raw from screaming into the pillow. 

Namjoon grips Hoseok’s hips to yank and press him into place, lines himself with Hoseok’s sore, used hole, then spits on Hoseok’s cock and grips it tightly, rolling his palm over the head. The pressure from orgasm after orgasm being denied has every touch feeling electric to the point of being painful, and Hoseok gasps and groans from the touch, pleasure-pain shooting through his limbs and festering deep in his guts. 

“So pretty,” Namjoon praises as he slowly fills Hoseok, pressing his thick length past each ring of abused and tired muscle. 

Hoseok whimpers and sobs, feeling too overwhelmed by the sight of his husband towering over and glaring down on him. Everything is too much, and Hoseok wishes he could return to being pressed face down. Suffocation would certainly be easier on the heart. 

With a deep, rumbly groan, Namjoon pulls back and thrusts forward quickly, causing Hoseok's entire body to freeze, spine locked in an arch, as a sob quakes through him and trembles from between his lips. He is suddenly so dreadfully close to the edge and already beyond the point of overstimulation. 

"You gonna come already, baby?" Namjoon teases, rolling his palm over Hoseok's cock while he pulls back and thrusts forward, back and forward, picking up a pace much steadier than anything he has done for the past incomprehensible amount of time. 

"I'm—" Hoseok sobs, squeezing his eyes closed as Namjoon thrusts deep and opening them widely when he pulls back. "Yes."

"Good boy."

Hoseok whimpers as Namjoon continues to fuck him, and his heels dig uselessly against the blue comforter, unable to find a stable position. His legs are restless, but he lacks the energy to hold them in place, instead clawing at the blanket with both hands, down at his sides. 

"T-too much," Hoseok whines, knowing that if he really needs Namjoon to slow or stop, that he will have to use his safeword, not wanting to. 

Namjoon knits his brows and juts out his lip into a mock pout, responding, "You can take it, baby," in a tone dripping with mirth, making Hoseok want to cry. 

Hoseok is not entirely sure he can take it. His entire body begins to stiffen and convulse against the mattress as sharp, overwhelming waves of horrible pleasure rock through him, pulling him asunder. Close. So, terribly close. 

"So good for me," Namjoon groans, giving Hoseok's cock a firm, nearly painful squeeze. "For me and only me,"

"Only you…" Hoseok mutters as his eyes roll back and he succumbs to innumerous feelings, trembling and sobbing as the pleasure bursts and overcomes him.

"That's it," Namjoon groans, voice sounding affected—broken around the edges.

Hoseok paints himself in release, spraying his neck, chest, and tummy, aided by Namjoon's insistent fist. Much to his demise, Namjoon's hips speed up, shooting blinding amounts of pleasure-pain through him. It hurts—it hurts to the extent of Hoseok nearly calling his safeword and begging Namjoon to stop. The oxygen feels pressed sharply from his lungs, and he squeezes his eyes closed so hard, his head begins to ache.

"Joon…" he mutters, voice barely audible over the slap of skin against sweaty skin. "Pl–please, baby…hurts…"

With a loud, long groan, Namjoon's hips still and tremble, and he pulls from Hoseok's stretched, aching hole and sprays his come over Hoseok's thigh, tummy, and deflating cock, droplets compared to his earlier loads, but still more than Hoseok would expect. The fluids instantly begin to cool, along with the sweat that covers him, and Hoseok's shoulders and chest tense as he begins to shiver. 

"God damn," Namjoon gasps, leaning forward on one hand propped beside Hoseok's hip while he squeezes his cock in the other. "Fuck. Look at you, shivering and covered in come. Such a pretty fuck toy, baby."

The impulse to cry returns, and Hoseok attempts to blink it away, feeling a trembling exhale work its way through his chest and throat. 

"C-cold," he whines, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Alright, let's get you into a hot shower," Namjoon says in a tone that is flat, possibly verging on annoyance, though Hoseok could be imagining it.

Namjoon leaves the room and makes his way to the bathroom. Lazily, Hoseok drops his head to the side and watches as his husband's ass flexes and relaxes—perky and soft. The sound of the faucet turning on makes Hoseok groan, and he sits up slowly, feeling his muscles settle somewhat painfully from being fucked so hard and for so long. 

When Namjoon returns, he appears exasperated. His lips are tugged down into a frown, and he looks everywhere but at Hoseok, even as he approaches and scoops him up bridal style to take into the bathroom. Despite the feeling of discomfort that engulfs and settles down into his bones, Hoseok leans into Namjoon, shivering against his warm skin, and Namjoon squeezes him a bit in response. 

"I'll miss you, Seok," Namjoon mutters as they enter the bathroom. 

And although Hoseok knows Namjoon must only be talking about missing him while Hoseok is away on his work trip, the way he says it feels heavy. Matched with the way he was speaking moments ago about fucking him one last time, Hoseok's mind races. What if he returns and Namjoon has decided to move on, leaving him alone in this home? He knows he deserves it. 

"I'll miss you too, Joonie," Hoseok responds solemnly, thankful to be set beside the shower so that he can step into the tub, allowing the steam and water to greet him—warm and welcoming, and a cover for his tears. 

Hoseok is beginning to stir, letting the early morning sunlight break through, turning his dreams into distant blurs that are slowly wiping from his mind. He hardly makes sense of Namjoon's voice sweetly saying, "Rise and shine, baby," until delicate touches against his forehead and cheek bring the waking world more quickly into focus. 

"Hmm?" Hoseok grumbles, stretching his legs out, followed by his arms, which he lifts over his head. 

"You have a long trip ahead of you, so I thought I would head to work a little late and see you off," Namjoon responds low and close, leaving warm breath after each word to ghost over Hoseok's face. 

Namjoon smells minty and sweet, and Hoseok would chase his lips to have a taste, if only his own breath weren't putrid from sleep. Slowly, Hoseok opens his eyes, squinting as he adjusts to the light. Namjoon has opened the curtains, and although the sun has yet to fully rise, it is more than Hoseok is used to when he wakes.

"What would my husband like for breakfast?" Namjoon asks, and Hoseok nearly pinches himself to check that he is awake, after all. 

"Coffee and an omelet?" Hoseok responds, voice still raw from overuse. 

With a hum, Namjoon kisses Hoseok on the forehead, then makes his way from the bedroom. Hoseok groans and stretches once more, then he sits up, digging his palms into the mattress while the pain in his ass radiates through him, making him hiss. Namjoon certainly fulfilled his promise to make him sore, and he hopes the eleven-hour plane ride is not too painful.

Hoseok sits a moment, gathering his thoughts and allowing his brain to fully catch up to being awake. Then he slowly swings his legs over the edge of the mattress while pushing away the comforter, and sets his feet onto the floor. It feels like only yesterday, Hoseok could barely manage this much movement without feeling intense bursts of blinding pain radiating from his side, and he stares at his feet, grateful for mobility. And for community. Although getting wrapped up in Yoongi and Jeongguk's mess was what got him shot in the first place, Hoseok is grateful to have had them by his and Namjoon's side while he recovered. He thinks about that incident often.

As Hoseok gets out of bed and makes his way to the closet, the smell of coffee slowly permeates the air, hitting his nose. He takes a deep, slow inhale and smiles on each exhale while finding an undershirt and suit for the day—all black, of course. He can faintly hear the sounds of kitchenware, and he gets dressed a little quicker than usual, excited to have breakfast with his husband. 

He promises himself that once he completes the job in New Zealand and confirms his suspicions in Australia, he will be ready to move on and be devoted once more to Namjoon. Although he misses Yoongi and Jeongguk terribly, he feels certain that he is finally at peace with whatever mess transpired between the four of them being over. Enough time has passed, and he does not crave Yoongi the way he used to. 

He will miss occupying Jeongguk's body, but his main concern is that the two of them are still alive. He can deal with the possibility of them being in different vessels if and when the time comes. He just needs to see that they are alive. Perhaps losing the temptation of their former bodies will put everything to rest. 

"Ready, Seok!" Namjoon shouts from downstairs, and Hoseok smiles wide, nibbling on his lower lip. He wonders how he got so lucky to run into Namjoon all those years ago at that shitty college party. He wonders if Namjoon feels lucky sometimes, too. 

"Coming," Hoseok responds, though not too loud. 

He snakes a belt through the loops of his slacks and begins to buckle it, catching his reflection in the mirror. His hair is beginning to grow too long, the back falling below his ears, but he likes the way it frames his face, shaggy and a bit unkempt. 

Hoseok pulls a black blazer from its hanger and drapes it over his arm, then approaches his mahogany jewelry box, lifting the lid and pulling out his favorite Rolex—a black watch face with silver details and a silver band. Then he makes his way from his bedroom, to the stairs. 

Part of him feels sentimental about leaving, but he is too excited about breakfast to let that weigh on him too heavily. He will have to bear the burden of his choices eventually, but for now, Namjoon is waiting for him. And considering the chance that Namjoon might not be here when he returns, Hoseok knows that he needs to appreciate every moment that he can, right now. 

As he walks down the stairs, he notices his suitcase is already down on the landing, and he smiles to himself. Namjoon really has thought of everything, it seems. A relief, considering Hoseok had forgotten to grab it, too busy being wrapped up in his thoughts. The air smells of coffee and melted butter, and Hoseok reaches the bottom of the staircase with a pep in his step and spins in socked feet toward the kitchen. 

Namjoon stands in a black hoodie and sweatpants, which is an uncharacteristic sight, and Hoseok wonders just how much later he plans to go into work, almost making a joke about casual Friday being far more casual than he remembers. He tries not to think of the familiar attire on Yoongi and Jeongguk, but it feels impossible, and he sighs as he smiles and allows his husband to pull him into a hug.

"How long do you expect to be away?" Namjoon asks with his lips pressed to Hoseok's temple. 

Truthfully, Hoseok has no idea. As long as his target is where The Boss says he is, Hoseok could have his actual mission complete by tomorrow. But as for when he will return home…

"Hopefully no longer than a week," Hoseok responds with a sigh, considering the possibility of needing the entire week to search for Jimin and Taehyung. "A week from Sunday, at the latest."

Namjoon plants a kiss on Hoseok's cheek, then steps back and motions for him to have a seat. His breakfast is going to be cold, but Hoseok hardly cares as he lets his fingertips linger on the soft black cotton before pulling away. 

At the sight of only one plate, Hoseok feels a bit sad; he had hoped that he and Namjoon would share a meal before he leaves. But Namjoon does have a seat across from him, cradling a white ceramic mug of steaming coffee, and Hoseok decides that is good enough.

"I might still be in Ilsan when you return," Namjoon says, pulling Hoseok's attention and making him hum. "I'll keep you posted, though."

Hoseok grabs his coffee cup and lifts it to his lips, muttering, "Alright," before taking a sip of the steaming, bitter liquid. Then he sets the mug down and eats his omelet, rushing through it just a tad so that he can round the table, straddle Namjoon's thighs, and get back to hugging and kissing him before he finally has to leave.

"Do we have time to fuck?" Namjoon asks against Hoseok's lips, breath smelling like coffee while his candor takes him by surprise. 

"I don't think I could handle it," Hoseok responds, rubbing his fingertips over Namjoon's neck. His ass is far more sore than he would care to admit.

"What if I already stretched myself with a plug this morning?" Namjoon asks, rubbing his palms down Hoseok's chest and stomach before gripping onto his thighs. 

Hoseok gasps. "Oh?"

Namjoon hums in response and begins to palm over Hoseok's crotch, sending blood flooding to the warmth left by his touch. If Namjoon is already prepped, they should have time for a quickie.

"Alright," Hoseok says, checking his watch to confirm he has about twenty minutes until he has to leave. "I want you naked and on your knees, on the couch."

Hoseok sits up straight and gets onto his feet, taking in the sight of Namjoon disheveled and flushed, lounging back against his wooden dining room chair. 

He steps back, giving him space as Namjoon nods, smiles, and mutters, "Yes, daddy."

Thanks to the aid of prescription medication, most of the eleven-hour and twenty-five-minute flight goes by in a blink of an eye. Hoseok wakes up drowsy and stretches as the plane skids over the tarmac, slowing to a taxi while the sun shines brightly into the small windows. He has never been to New Zealand before, and although he is interested in taking in the scenery, his brain has not fully logged back on.

Beside him, across the tiny aisle, The Boss sits staring out her window with a glass of white wine in her hand, dangling by the stem between two manicured fingers. She must sense Hoseok is awake, because without turning to look at him, she says, "I have confirmation on the…information…that I began to share with you, yesterday."

"Oh?" Hoseok asks through a yawn.

The Boss hums. "As you recall, it is in regards to Seokjin. I fear that once I share this information with you, you might do something irrational."

"Try me," Hoseok responds, already feeling fed up with her tone. 

The plane slows to a stop, and outside workers are positioning a metal ladder outside while an attendant begins to open the door from the inside. The Boss drinks back the last of her wine and holds the empty glass out for another attendant to walk by and grab, then she unbuckles her seatbelt, stands, and smooths her hands over her long black dress—another fit for a funeral.

"Kim Seokjin is a Jeon," The Boss says simply. 

Hoseok's head races, though he already knows what she is trying to tell him. The resemblance between Seokjin and Jeongguk was hard to miss. 

She continues, "A Jeon who is not eager for his father to be assassinated, I suspect. Hence attempting to pull you off of his little brother's trail to focus on a fake job."

Or, Hoseok thinks, he is eager to get his little brother back. Perhaps he assumed that once Hoseok came into contact with his targets, he would know that one of them is Jeongguk in a new body. Maybe he does want his father to be assassinated; he seems quite a bit older than Jeongguk. Perhaps whatever his father is in charge of, Seokjin will be next in line for. He could even be throwing Jeongguk under the bus, hoping for the kid to do his dirty work. 

"Interesting," Hoseok responds as he undoes his seatbelt and stands. 

Hoseok begins to make his way to the exit, already finished with this conversation. Now he definitely wants to get this job finished as quickly as possible so he can get onto a red-eye to Sydney. 

"I recommend you stay away from him," The Boss adds, but Hoseok does not stop, only mutters, "Got it."

"I mean it, Hoseok-ssi," she continues. "Last we heard, he was laying low in Tokyo. Whatever it is he seems to be running away from, it could have something to do with the Korean government. He could be working with Yakuza."

Hoseok nods and exits the airplane, squinting as the sunlight fully permeates his vision. He is tired and grumpy, and he just wants to get jumped and take care of his client. The Boss is close behind, footfalls clicking against the metal ladder as Hoseok reaches the bottom, and he heads toward a black car, anticipating The Boss to climb into the front seat. 

Hoseok opens the door behind the driver and gets into the car, then shuts it and takes in the smell of artificial leather that has undoubtedly been sprayed, perhaps to give an air of newness or importance. Once The Boss gets into the front seat, a staff member places their luggage into the trunk and closes it, then the car takes off. 

"We are going to take you straight to the target host and get you in and out quickly," The Boss states. 

Music to Hoseok's ears. 

"Sounds good," Hoseok mutters as he closes his eyes and rests his head back. 

With any luck, he may be able to avoid checking into the hotel altogether. 

Although it is possible to jump into the body of a person who has been knocked out, The Boss prefers not to go that route. Depending on the method used to knock out a host, their body may be sluggish, and that is the last thing an assassin needs. So when Hoseok shows up to the penthouse of some fancy hotel to find a man bound to a chair and whimpering into a gag, he sighs. 

Of course, he agrees with The Boss, and prefers his hosts to be as alert as possible, but jumping into the body of a man who has been struggling enough to break out into a sweat is also not optimal. Not only is he risking feeling soreness, but he is going to have to clean the man enough to make him presentable to the target, which is a hassle. 

Without skipping a beat, Hoseok approaches the hotel bed and pulls off his black blazer, draping it over the back of a nearby empty chair before taking a seat and swinging his legs up. He lays his head into the receiver, then reaches back to uncork his implant and plug himself in. The metal feels cold as it slides past his skin, though he cannot feel anything once it enters the receptor nestled in his brain. 

"Ready?" The Boss calls, and Hoseok closes his eyes and hums before saying, "Ready."

"Jumping in 3…2…"

A ringing can be heard before everything goes black and then white. 

It always feels weird to wake up in someone else's body. The discombobulation of space and time, adjusting for hand-eye coordination in a new skinsuit with different length limbs and overall proportions, acclimating as quickly as possible to carry out the tasks at hand. 

But he always adjusts quickly because he is the best. 

Nobody is better than Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok opens the host's eyes, he feels the soreness in the man's biceps and thighs from being bound to the wooden chair, and he closes the host's eyes and sighs, doing his best to relax the man's muscles while the team checks to make sure it is, in fact, Hoseok jumped into his skin.

"Birthday?" a man asks as the cloth is pulled down away from Hoseok's host's mouth. 

"Nineteen ninety-four, eighteen, two."

"And your spouse?" The man asks.

Hoseok clicks the host's tongue against the roof of his mouth and mutters, "Keep my husband out of this."

The man looks past Hoseok, undoubtedly to The Boss, who must give him a signal to accept the answer. 

Hoseok is untied from the chair and stands, stretching the long, heavy limbs with the hope of relieving some tension. 

"Your host and the target have a dinner reservation at the restaurant downstairs," The Boss informs as Hoseok cracks his host's neck and stretches the arms out once more. "All we need you to do is get the man into a car afterward. How you manage that is up to you, as long as it does not cause a scene."

Before falling asleep on the airplane, Hoseok watched a video compilation of the two men interacting and determined that the target is pretty easily persuaded by the host, who goes by the name of Ahn Ilseong. The target—a man named Choi Giseok—is a lawyer who has been taking bribes from some pretty high-profile clients, recently assisting in the building of an apartment complex that will cover what the Korean government believes to be a burial grounds for a now-defunct gang whose operators are still lurking in the shadows of Seoul. 

After the discovery of two bodies, detectives have been working around the clock to catch those in charge and put a stop to the building operations, but the man Hoseok meets with today has been influential in covering everyone's tracks. 

While taking hush money, Choi has been approving building codes and ordinances for the construction of that building, despite the place being an active crime scene, using his power and influence to secure a certain police chief who Choi has promised to help make a mayor, right into his pocket. Hence the hit placed on his head; taking down a lawyer is far easier than taking down the police, but Hoseok expects this case to extend into their precinct, should this job not send a clear enough message.

Hoseok approaches his own body, which lies unconscious on the bed, and rummages through his front pocket to grab his cell phone. Then he types in his passcode and makes his way to the suite's bathroom to clean up while he replays videos of the host to watch for mannerisms and listen for speech patterns. 

This time frame is a little tight and not ideal, but he is confident he can figure it out. Worst case scenario, he drugs the man and makes it appear as though he is too drunk and needs to be escorted out to a car. It does not quite fit the whole not-making-a-scene profile, but it is a plausible enough scenario. 

Once Hoseok has the host's face washed and hair combed with enough dry shampoo to rid the sweaty and disheveled appearance he found him in, Hoseok bids The Boss farewell and makes his way down to the lobby with ten minutes to spare before their reservation. 

Choi Giseok is already at the bar when Hoseok arrives, and he approaches on the man's right side, slinging an arm over his shoulder, doing his best not to gag from the overwhelming stench of cigar smoke, sweat, and booze. Much to Hoseok's delight, he seems to be on his way to being wasted. 

"Starting without me?" Hoseok chides, as he looks down at the man's drink and back to his face. 

Choi squints at him, and for a split moment, Hoseok worries that already he may be blowing his own cover. He is, after all, a little rusty from not working as much as he used to. Perhaps his studies were not thorough enough. 

"Ahn, you son of a bitch!" Choi finally slurs, setting Hoseok's mind at ease. "Have a drink with me, and then we will sit down to dinner and discuss the deal, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hoseok responds with a crooked smile, breathing in through the host's mouth in an attempt to avoid Choi's stench as he settles on the stool beside him. He waves down the tender, orders one of "whatever he's having," and sets the night in motion. 

It takes exactly two hours of listening to the old man babble bullshit, eating steak, and drinking whiskey before Hoseok is able to get him into a car on its way to the airport. He does not even put up a fuss; hardly seeming cognizant of where he is. Easy peasy. 

The walk back through the hotel lobby and to the elevators is a bit rushed and stumbly due to his attempts to keep up with Choi's unrelenting need to drink and drink. He wastes no time, feeling the host's pulse spike as he makes his way back to the penthouse suite, to his body.

By the time Hoseok is back in his own skin, he feels restless. Two men drug a very combative Ahn Ilseong and drag him out while Hoseok smooths his jacket down with his palms. The thrill of completing a task feels duller than usual, and he checks his Rolex to find that it is already after 8 PM. He is quite tired, but not enough to stay on this island. He needs to get to Australia. 

"I trust that we have someone waiting for these men back home to carry out the rest of the mission," Hoseok says, pretending to adjust his silver cufflinks while ignoring the way The Boss must be glaring at him. 

"And why would you assume such a thing?" she asks after a few tense seconds of silence. 

"Your description of the job only included jumping and getting the man into custody," Hoseok says, glancing up to find her squinting at him with her hands on her hips. "There was no mention of me carrying out the assassination."

"And just who the fuck else will carry it out?" The Boss snaps.

Hoseok fights the urge to laugh—this really should not strike him as funny, but he is mentally and emotionally checked out. 

"Any of the other men," Hoseok responds, lifting a brow and dropping his hands to his sides. "We have a whole team."

The Boss studies him for a moment, then crosses her arms tightly over her chest before asking, "You're going to Australia, aren't you?"

"That is correct," Hoseok responds; he figures he may as well be honest.

"Hoseok—" she begins, but he cuts her off. 

"I think it's them. At the very least, I need to see for myself."

"And if they're not?" The Boss challenges, cocking her head to the side. 

Hoseok drops his gaze to the forest green carpet and shrugs. 

"If they're not, then they're not. Either way, I will be home in a few days."

"I thought I told you to stay away from Seokjin," she tries, and Hoseok senses a tremble in her voice. 

"This isn't about Seokjin. This is about Yoongi and Jeongguk. I need to go."

The Boss does not say anything at first, and Hoseok hovers for a few beats before deciding he would like to get to the airport as quickly as he can. He unlocks his phone and searches for whether or not New Zealand has Uber, then navigates to the app and calls for a car to the airport. 

"I won't send you there with the company's fuel," The Boss says, possibly as a last-ditch effort to make Hoseok change his mind. He hadn't planned on using the private jet in the first place.

Hoseok lifts his phone and turns the screen toward The Boss, showing her the Uber app with a map open. A little black car symbol is at the far bottom of the screen, connected to a dot where the hotel is by a long, winding black line. 

"Already have it figured out," he says.

"Alright," The Boss concedes. "But be careful."

With a hum, Hoseok takes his leave. 

A car is thirteen minutes away, but Hoseok has no desire to stay inside the suite a moment longer than he needs to, so he straightens his suit jacket once more and makes for the door, stopping to extend the handle of his black rolling suitcase and gripping tightly to it as he flings the door open and away from him. There is a light, lingering stench of perfume in the air—something too sweet to be considered pleasant—and Hoseok scrunches his nose as he walks through the empty hallway, shoes sinking into forest green carpeting as he makes his way toward the elevator. 

Guilt pangs through Hoseok's chest as a sense of déjà vu hits him. Hotel hallways with ill intentions, acting as a liminal space between where he should be headed and where he wants to be. 

He should at least message Namjoon to let him know he is thinking about him. 

By the time Hoseok reaches the elevator, his heart pounds with anticipation. What if he finds Park and Kim and discovers they are two men in their own bodies, actually running from the Korean government? What if Seokjin is setting him up to be captured or killed? What if his suspicions are correct but Yoongi and Jeongguk, in these shiny new bodies, want nothing to do with him?

Hoseok wonders if this would be the first time Yoongi has permanently jumped into someone else's body. Is it something he does regularly? What kinds of horrible secrets could he be hiding? 

The doors of the elevator grind open and pull Hoseok from his thoughts. Had he pushed a call button? He hardly remembers approaching the lift at all, but it is empty when he steps in, so he must have called for it. With a sigh, Hoseok hits the first-floor button and pulls out his phone, checking to see that the car is seven minutes away.

Hoseok opens his search engine and begins to see if there are any flights that leave for Sydney tonight. Depending on how quickly he can get to the airport, he might be able to catch a flight immediately. Otherwise, he will have to wait several hours. 

As the elevator doors open, Hoseok stands tall and makes his way into the lobby, eyes ahead on the dark sky just outside the glass doors and wall. No detail of the space lingers long enough in Hoseok's periphery to make it out; only the vague memory of light marble, dark upholstered chairs, and matching carpeting cross his mind before fading to obscurity. 

The cool night air instantly chills Hoseok as he steps outside. He shivers and pulls his phone out, checking to see that the Uber driver is four minutes away, and that he should be pulling right up to the doors. Then he glances around, and instead of finding a bench to sit on, he decides to make his way over to an empty stretch of wall to lean against it.

Hoseok wishes he had a cigarette—an urge he does not have often. Nicotine would be nice at a time like this. 

As Hoseok waits, he stares ahead at the ground—black and dark grey and somewhat foreboding under the glow of the yellow lights coming off the hotel. There is a part of him that almost hopes that the driver does not get him to the airport on time for the soonest flight, just so that he can sit with his thoughts and prolong the inevitable, but he knows that if that does become the case, his thoughts could very well eat him alive. 

For weeks, he has been a shell of a man searching and waiting and worrying. He needs closure. He needs to at least try.

Hoseok's phone dings to alert him that the black Honda Civic is approaching, and he looks up to find a car that fits the description pulling into the round driveway in front of the hotel. Hoseok straightens out, confirms the license plate number, then makes his way to the vehicle. When the driver gets out after popping his trunk, Hoseok allows the man to take his suitcase and place it inside, then he slides into the back seat on the passenger side and takes in the stench of fake leather that reminds him of the ride over from the airport this morning. 

"Alright, mister…" the driver says in a thick, somewhat unfamiliar English-speaking accent as Hoseok puts on his seatbelt and the man stares at his phone, undoubtedly trying to make sense of a Korean name. 

"Hoseok," Hoseok mutters while rolling his eyes to gaze out the window to his right. 

The driver hums and says, "Off to the airport, I see," then waits for a beat, possibly for Hoseok to respond, before driving off. 

Thankfully, they are not too far from the destination, because the stink of the fake leather is beginning to give Hoseok a headache. He is feeling extremely cranky and he just wants to be on his way. Opening the window for a moment blasts cold air into his face and he quickly rolls it back up with a huff before spacing out once more. 

New Zealand seems like a neat place, he thinks. But he has no desire to be here. 

It takes them a little while to get up to the correct doors, but once the car is pulled up to the curb, Hoseok gets out and makes his way quickly to the trunk, which pops open. The driver only halfway gets out of the car before Hoseok can slam the trunk shut and mutter a quick, "Thanks," and then he sets the wheels of the suitcase onto the ground and hastily makes his way into the airport.

Lines are short, and Hoseok approaches a kind-looking older lady, and says, in English, "I am hoping to get onto a flight to Sydney, please."

The transaction takes all of ten minutes, with Hoseok wheeling off to the security line, which moves quicker than he expects. The bad news is that the soonest flight to Sydney is already too soon for the attendant to have issued him a seat in good faith, and Hoseok tells himself that he is relieved not to have to sprint through an unfamiliar airport. The good news is that the bar near his gate is open late, and boy, is Hoseok thirsty. 

Approaching a bar and being spoken to in English takes Hoseok momentarily off-guard. He had just been speaking English to the woman at the counter to get a flight ticket, but something about ordering a drink from a tender—an action he has performed many times—feels strange to do in another language. But he spots a familiar bottle of whiskey and orders a glass, easing quickly into the interaction. 

Since he has several hours to kill, and the airport bar is pretty empty of patrons, Hoseok decides to strike up conversation. The tender is pretty cute, and he finds Hoseok's accent charming, and Hoseok thinks there are worse ways to kill a few hours. 

The moment Hoseok wakes up—jolted from the feeling of the plane touching down—he yawns and squeezes his eyes closed before opening them wide. Then he switches his phone from airplane mode and watches as notifications pour in. Two are from Namjoon, letting him know that he is on his way to Ilsan and that he hopes everything is going well for Hoseok, and one from an unknown number. 

[Unknown]: Your boys have been spotted at a popular nightclub not too far from the hotel. Will attach the location. They may be there again tonight. 

Hoseok does not bother to try responding, assuming his number has already been blocked. Seokjin must have some way of knowing that he has traveled, so whatever it is the man does for a living, he seems to at least have friends in high enough places. Perhaps even someone working with the bureau for which Seokjin lied about being employed. 

As the plane pulls to its designated spot, anxiety takes over. Hoseok suddenly has no idea what he is doing or why he thought coming to Australia would be a good idea. There is a chance that he will find nothing. But, even if he does find what he is looking for, he acknowledges that it may very well be just another action on his long list of malfeasances against his marriage vows. Try as he might to convince himself that he is ready to move on, he is unsure how he might feel if he meets Park and Kim. 

He is also anxious because he has to urinate. After several glasses of whiskey and a couple dealer's choice drinks concocted by the bartender that tasted like glorified Manhattans, Hoseok used the bathroom once shortly after takeoff and immediately passed out with his head against the window. It was a relief, at the time, to find he had the row of seats to himself, having the freedom to get up and move around as needed, but he had not used the freedom he had been granted. 

It takes entirely too long to exit the plane, standing hunched over in his seat while his bladder screams and everyone files out as slowly as humanly possible, some fumbling with overhead compartments and others trying to wrangle children. There is truly nothing worse than a commercial flight, Hoseok is certain of it. 

The first order of business is making a beeline to a bathroom the moment he steps from the jetway and onto solid floor. Hoseok groans as he situates himself before a urinal, practically moaning from relief as he empties his bladder. He is still somewhat drunk from earlier, and he has the overwhelming urge to either curl up and go to sleep, or keep drinking. Luckily, it is the middle of the night, leaving Hoseok with only one option. 

A plus side to his government job is that Hoseok almost never has trouble booking a hotel. Regardless of the continent, people feel adamant to accommodate him the moment he flashes his government-issued identification card and winning smile. So when Hoseok calls the Park Hyatt, he is pleased that even over the phone at this ungodly hour, he is able to secure a room. It takes some convincing to allow him to check in immediately, rather than waiting for a more appropriate time, and Hoseok absolutely does make some shit up about it being official government duty, and that, if he likes, he could get someone local on the phone. 

"That won't be necessary, sir," is music to Hoseok's ears as he speeds through the airport down to baggage claim. 

By the time he hails a cab and sinks into the leather backseat, the weight of everything begins to press on him heavily. Hoseok is exhausted. He cannot wait to sleep. Tomorrow, his search begins. 

Despite his exhaustion, Hoseok hardly sleeps a wink. The sun rises mere hours after he lays down, and although the curtains do an okay job of blocking out the sunlight, by 8 AM he is wide awake. He decides to take a shower and then find something to eat. If Park and Kim have been spotted clubbing, then Hoseok assumes they may also be the types to sleep late. And if they are Yoongi and Jeongguk occupying new bodies, it is likely they will order room service rather than venture out to a diner or café. 

Still, Hoseok dresses in more casual clothing than usual and begins looking for somewhere local with a cup of coffee. At the very least, he wants to get a sense of the neighborhood, and take a walk along various paths that would lead him to and from the location Seokjin said they were spotted at. 

Wearing a simple black tee tucked into black skinny jeans with a black leather belt and chelsea boots, Hoseok covers the bottom half of his face with a black mask and heads down to the lobby. His room is on the third floor, a far cry from the penthouse and executive suites he has grown accustomed to, but the tan and white furnished room is sleek and luxurious, and still roomy enough for one person to spend a few nights. 

Although he knows there is no chance of spotting either of them in the hallway, he still looks over his shoulder, turning his head each time he hears another voice. The lobby is surprisingly crowded, and he glances around for two men roughly Yoongi and Jeongguk's height but with lighter brown and blond hair, not finding anyone who may look Korean. 

Hoseok is so distracted walking through the lobby glancing around at everyone, that he bumps into someone, causing them to drop their phone in a clatter against the white marble floor. The person scrambles, and Hoseok bends instinctively to pick up what was dropped, nearly colliding with the other person's forehead. 

"Shit, sorry," Hoseok mutters in English, bowing his head as he walks away, not looking the person in the eyes. He is too tired, and his pulse is spiked too high. He needs some fresh air. 

As soon as he exits the hotel, the scenery does not seem too promising in terms of finding any kind of city life, with the hotel sitting on a harbor. But, evidently, there are several cafés and nightlife spots a short distance away, so Hoseok walks in the other direction from the waterfront. 

The weather is nice, and Hoseok takes note of the nearby botanical garden that Seokjin mentioned days ago. He cannot help but think about the gardens in Osaka the day that everything truly started between the four of them, for better and for worse. 

It only takes about five minutes to find a café, and he orders an Americano and sits near the window to survey the passersby and try to clear his head. Memorizing patterns and behavior is his job; this should be no problem, as long as Park and Kim are actually Yoongi and Jeongguk. It has to be them; he just knows it.

Once Hoseok drinks his coffee, he heads out past the nightclub, surveying more clubs and bars, judging them on whether he thinks Yoongi and Jeongguk would be likely to patronize. He even takes a stroll through the botanical garden with the hope of organizing his thoughts, but it feels like an impossible task. The more Hoseok settles into the neighborhood and lets the possibility of finding them sink in, the higher his nervousness builds. 

He stops somewhere for food, just to get a sandwich and quell his hunger, then makes his way back to the hotel, deciding that perhaps he will eat in his room, then sit down at the bar for a drink. Even if he is at the bar by himself, he does not wish to be alone, especially in his quiet hotel room. 

Later in the evening, Hoseok settles in against the marble countertop of the hotel bar and sips at a glass of neat whiskey. Although he tells himself he is not intentionally on the lookout for the two of them, he checks over his shoulders every so often. So much so that the bartender asks if he is waiting for someone. 

"Hmm," Hoseok considers the question, then shrugs as he says, "Kind of."

After several drinks, Hoseok is groggy while walking to the nightclub. He arrives late enough for it to be packed, and does a round to the bar, glancing at the swarms of patrons before standing with a drink in hand and his eyes on the crowd. Once his drink is gone, he sets his empty glass on the counter and heads to the dancefloor to blow off some steam. 

Strangers approach him to flirt, and he even allows a cute woman to wrap her arms around his shoulders and attempt to seduce him, going so far as to move his hips invitingly for a song or two. But everything feels empty and a little distracting, and he excuses himself to the bar, wishing her a good night before she can join him. After another drink, he stumbles back to the hotel, feeling worse for wear emotionally; drunk and very much wrapped up in his feelings. At least he is so exhausted that by the time his head hits the pillow, he is out like a light.

The second day is much the same. He takes a late lunch walking through the neighborhood, then through the botanical gardens and back, only to wind up bar hopping before landing at the same club as the night before. He drinks and dances alone, turning down strangers looking for a little fun. Then he stumbles back to his hotel alone, falling asleep before he has a chance to let everything weigh him down any further. 

The third and fourth days are much the same, leading Hoseok absolutely nowhere. He thinks he sees chestnut hair on a build that could resemble Jeongguk at the botanical garden, but loses the man in a crowd before he can get closer, and then he hops from night club to night club, tumbling into bed drunk and disappointed each night earlier than the night before.

Hoseok almost does not leave his room on the fifth day, feeling a level of depression that is almost foreign to him. Never before has he felt so bogged down by hopelessness that all he can do is stare at the wall, with the exception of recovering from getting shot. Not since college, anyway. He wonders if his methods are failing because he is not likely to find Park and Kim where he would expect to find his friends. He worries they might actually not be his friends, after all.

Deciding that the route he has been taking for the last two days is not the correct one, Hoseok decides to head down to the pool for a little while and swim some laps. He is bored beyond belief, wishing he had a way to contact Seokjin and ask for more information. If he has a way of knowing Park and Kim have been to that nightclub, then he should be able to see other activity, so why is he staying silent? 

Hoseok slides on a pair of salmon-colored swim shorts and puts on a white tee. The walk to the pool is winding and confusing, and by the time Hoseok reaches his destination, he is practically ready to turn back and return to his room, exasperated to the point of muttering under his breath. The sunlight coming in through the tall glass walls is too bright, the sounds of voices and shoes echoing through the marble corridors are all too loud, and Hoseok is fed up. 

When he enters the pool area, there are two people sitting in the hot tub, a blond and a brunette, and Hoseok actually stops in his tracks, wondering if it could be them. One of them laughs, and the sound is so bright and sweet but also hauntingly deep, and it echoes delightfully over the largely otherwise empty space, bouncing off the water. Hoseok watches for a moment, but they stay huddled close together, and, from what little he can glean from their conversation, they seem to be speaking in English. 

So he removes his shirt and shoes near a chair and heads for the deep end. Without giving it any thought, he throws his hands over his head and dives in. The water is simultaneously surprisingly cold and peacefully warm, waking up every inch of him, covering him in goosebumps and shrouding him in weightless comfort. He swims ahead as far as he can before his lungs begin to sting, signaling for him to come up for air. When he breaches the surface, the two people who were in the hot tub are gone, leaving him alone. 

Hoseok nearly gives up. After swimming, he has the urge to search for flights back home and check out a couple days early. Something about this trip feels so empty and fruitless. He wonders whether, in his search for them, they have found him, and now they are hiding. Paranoia sinks in, and he begins to worry that the two in the pool earlier could really have been Jimin and Taehyung.

After showering, Hoseok puts on a white tee tucked into blue jeans, with a black jacket over top that has a floral pattern of pinks, blues, and whites. He decides that he will need to have a drink to gain the courage to leave, so he slides on his boots and heads down to the bar. This time, while he boards the elevator and walks through the lobby, he does not look for any familiar faces. This time, he stares ahead, at the boring white floor, attempting to talk himself into giving up and going home. 

The bar appears packed when he approaches, so he leans with his elbow against the strip of space he manages to squeeze into, orders a glass of whiskey neat, and then steps away from the bar to lean against an equally boring marble pillar. Hoseok stares down into the caramel liquid as he swirls his glass, letting the scent of it waft into his nose.

This was a mistake, he thinks. Coming to Australia was a mistake.

Laughter breaks through the crowd, and Hoseok thinks that it sounds just like the one he heard in the pool earlier. His head perks up automatically, searching for the source of the laugh. He has no idea why, he just feels...drawn to it. 

Briefly, he glances around, but he does not see anyone who such an angelic sound may have come from. That is, until someone who had been hunched over the bar stands up straight and turns his way.

The man who locks eyes with Hoseok is so beautiful, he struggles to comprehend it fully. His features are somehow razor sharp and pillow soft, plush and inviting. The man watches Hoseok for a beat with a curious expression, then he smiles, turns and walks away from the bar, past the row of pillars separating the space from the lobby. 

"Wait," Hoseok mutters under his breath, craning his neck to try to see where the pretty man wandered off to, but the large, round marble columns block his view, and several people are standing in his way of moving quickly.

He knows he should not be so fixated on the appearance of a stranger, but something just feels...right about him. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that the man at the bar was Park Jimin. There is no mistaking it. Even in the shoddy security footage that Seokjin provided, those lips and that jawline were impossible to miss. 

Hoseok feels frozen in place, but also driven by the desire to move. Move his feet, move his mouth, move anything that will get him closer to that man once more—that man who he is positive is Jimin. That man who could very well be Yoongi or Jeongguk.

But all he can manage to move in the moment is his arm. He lifts it just enough to tip the glass to his mouth, dumping the whiskey straight down his throat, resisting the burn that it leaves in its wake. With a wince and a slight sigh, Hoseok allows the strong, barrel-aged liquid settle over him. 

He steps up to the bar, weaving between a few bodies on his way, and sets his empty glass down. With no tab to close because the drink has been added to his room, Hoseok lets out a fortifying sigh and turns to exit, but there is a man standing in his way who he nearly runs into.

"Oh, excuse me," the man says in English at the same time Hoseok mutters, "Sorry," in Korean.

"Do you speak Korean?" the man asks in Korean, and Hoseok gasps as he looks up and finds himself face-to-face with Adonis, himself. 

This man is so handsome, his visuals rival fine art; captivating in the way his features rest in a slight frown. His eyes are expressive, and his voice is deep as the ocean but as smooth as silk. This has to be Kim Taehyung.

"Yeah," Hoseok responds after a beat, feeling heat rise to his face once he realizes he has been staring. He attempts to recover, adding, "Sorry, I got thrown off hearing someone speak Korean after several days of speaking English." 

The other beauty approaches from behind this man and places his hands on the man's arms, peeking from around his shoulder with a shy smile. Hoseok lifts his hand and mutters, "Hello," earning a soft, "Hi," in response, setting a swarm of butterflies in his tummy to take flight. 

"Are you here alone?" the tall one asks, earning him a slap on the arm from the shorter one. 

"Tae," the shorter one grumbles, confirming Hoseok's suspicions. 

"What?" the man who must be Kim Taehyung whines, turning his body so the man who must be Park Jimin is in clearer view. "He was surprised to hear me speak Korean. Maybe he could use some company."

"I am alone," Hoseok responds, swallowing a lump as both beautiful men turn their attention back to him. "I'm here for work, but there was a change in plans, so now I'm just...killing time."

He has no idea why he says all of that. Perhaps there is a part of him that does not want them to think he is just here for them—if they are, in fact, his friends. They have not given him a reason to believe they are, but he has not given up hope; perhaps they are trying to suss out the situation before admitting to what they have done.

"I'm Taehyung," the man confirmed as Kim Taehyung says as he holds out his hand, and Hoseok takes it with a bow of his head as he says, "Hoseok."

"Jimin," the man confirmed as Park Jimin says with a small wave, and Hoseok bows his head as he responds, "Nice to meet you two."

"We were thinking about heading to a whiskey bar up the street," Taehyung says, cocking his head to the side and giving Hoseok a lazy smile. "Would you like to join us?"

"Sure," Hoseok responds without giving it any thought. He is desperate to interact with other people, and now that he has found the two men he has been searching for, his heart pounds with anticipation. 

"Alright," Jimin says with an inviting smile and eyes that shimmer in the golden light of the hotel bar, causing the vines around Hoseok's ribs to bloom brightly. "Let's go."

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Dollhouse is copyright 2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[jjungkookislife]

Envolver Ch. 2

ღ pairing: namseok x f. reader

ღ genre: fwb to lovers, polyam au, smut [18+]

ღ summary: As the Western theme continues at the bar Saturday night, you find yourself just as enthralled by Namjoon and Hoseok.

ღ wc: 3.7k

ღ warnings: alcohol mention/use, flirting, exhibitionism (?) fingering (f. receiving), hair pulling, oral sex (f. and m. giving and receiving), marking (hickeys, bruises, scratches), biting, cum play, rimming, threesome, unprotected sex (vaginal and anal), degradation, praise, creampies, mention of birth control, mention of impreg kink, cum eating, multiple orgasms, double penetration

ღ mdni banner and thin banner by @benkeibear

ღ date: March 3, 2024

Yoongi pressed you against the wall beside the front door of the home he shared with his boyfriends. 

His lips moved with yours in perfect harmony, your soft moans muffled by his tongue as it met yours. Your hands rest on his shoulders, nails digging into them when he bites your bottom lip before pulling away.

“Are you sure you have to go?” He asks one more time as your fingers lace with his. 

“I do. I need to change before tonight, and I have a few errands to run that can’t wait any longer,” you explain. 

Yoongi frowns before sighing heavily. 

“I wish you’d just move in with us,” he pouts. 

You giggle, shaking your head. “We’d never leave the bed, Yoon.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he smirks, dodging the light smack you aimed his way. 

“I’m just saying.”

“I’m just saying,” you mock, sticking your tongue out at him before turning to grab your purse off the coat rack. You make sure your phone and wallet are in there before you kiss Yoongi one more time on the lips. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” you promise as you head out the door with one last wave. 

Hoseok waits for you in his car, ready to drop you off at your apartment.  

You didn’t have any errands to run, but you knew Yoongi and your other companions wouldn’t let you leave otherwise. You didn’t mind it though, not really. 

You liked being around all of them. You had relationships with each of them just as they did with each other. The eight of you toed the line between couple and kinda, sorta, just friends. 

Who were you kidding?

You all were heading to Couple Town but we’re too scared to make the first move. Perhaps if you all sat down and had “The Talk”, you’d feel more at ease but just thinking about it made your tummy flip and not in a good way. 

Hoseok wonders what you’re thinking about so hard in the passenger seat. Your brows are furrowed and your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you stare blankly at the road ahead. 

“You’re still coming tonight?” He asks as he comes to a full stop at a red light. 

“Of course,” you answer with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Gonna wear another pair of assless chaps?”

Hoseok cackles, shaking his head as he slowly accelerates when the light turns green. 

“Unfortunately that was a one-time thing but our outfits tonight are just as glamourous… or should I say scandalous?”

“Ooh, then I will definitely be there tonight,” you giggle as you look out the window as the familiar homes of your neighborhood appear. 

Tonight would probably be just as rowdy as the previous night, if not more due to it being Saturday night. 

You better dress to the nines to blow your almost boyfriends away.

Music pounds in your ears the moment you step inside the building. 

Your eyes immediately roam to the bar as you push past the crowd, muttering apologies before curse words. 

Psy spots you and waves you over, giving you a side hug before waving at a server to bring you the usual. 

“Crowded tonight,” you comment as people squeeze by you and you wonder if you’re within the fire code limit. 

“This Western theme is a hit,” Psy nods as he spins around showing you his extravagant getup. This one is a burnt orange with tassels covered in brown glitter that matches his cowboy boots. “Don’t I look marvelous?”

“You do,” you agree with a genuine smile as your drink arrives. 

“I’m thinking of doing Halloween costumes for this year. Maybe have the patrons dress up and have a costume contest. What do you think?” Psy asks, genuinely wanting your input. 

“Would I get to choose the winner?” You pout and Psy rolls his eyes playfully. 

“Of course, who else?” Psy laughs as he raises his drink, clinking it with yours before he’s called away by a staff member. 

You sip your drink at the table Psy occupied and you watch as your men get on the bar. 

Fuck, you knew their outfits would be hot just like yesterday but you weren’t sure where to look. 

Namjoon was clad in a hot pink outfit with the sleeves cut off and a pink cowboy hat on his head. The buckle was sparkly as the lights reflected off it and he shook his ass in those jeans. 

Wow!

Beside him, Hoseok is in a silver outfit with the tassels moving with him. The pants cling to his delicious thighs and he uses his hat to hide his eyes, swinging his hips from side to side as the crowd screams his name. Hoseok chuckles, taking the hat off and pressing it to his chest as he and Namjoon shake their ass to the song. 

You’re not even sure what the song is about as they smile brightly, flexing their arms and shaking their hips as the song nears its end. 

“Got you drooling already, love?” Seokjin asks as he walks up behind you. 

“Uh…” you tear your eyes away from Namjoon long enough to acknowledge Seokjin, who chuckles and has you face the bar. 

Hoseok bows as the song ends and Namjoon hops off the bar to collect the tips while Hoseok makes a few drinks, flirting with a few customers who are eager to place tips in the pocket of his shirt or the back pocket of his pants. 

A little taste for the fans is what he usually says but you don’t care because all those tips are spent on you and your almost boyfriends. 

“Jin!” the server calls from the bar, waving him over to help with the growing crowd of parched customers.

“Duty calls, baby,” Seokjin kisses you hastily as he parts the crowd with his wide shoulders. You nearly drool over them, wishing you could take him to the locker room again.

You fix your skirt, adjusting your cowboy hat right after. Jungkook was beaming from behind the bar when he spotted his hat on your head. 

The seven men get onto the bar as their dance number begins. You’re not sure who to watch, Yoongi draws your attention when he winks but soon, he, Seokjin, Jungkook, and Taehyung face the liquor bottles on the wall while Hoseok, Jimin, and Namjoon face the crowd as they shake their hips and turn so their boyfriends can do the same.

Boots stomp on the bar as they continue to dance and you’re drawn to Namjoon’s pink outfit, nearly drooling at how his arms shine. He must have oiled them in between performances.

Hoseok garners your attention next as he slowly unbuttons his shirt a few buttons, smirking when he stops and the crowd goes “Awwww!”

The song winds down, everyone gets off the bar except Hoseok and Namjoon. Their boots stomp in sync as they hit their ending pose and rip their shirts open.

Buttons fly into the crowd and the men take the scraps of their shirts off, waving them in the air before they bow.

“Thank y’all!” Namjoon grins as he steps off the bar with Hoseok right behind him.

You chug your drink, using the sticky ice to rub on your neck in poor hopes of it cooling you down.

It doesn’t.

“You look like you’re about to cream your panties,” Yoongi chuckles as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you hiss, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Oh, Darling, I’m hurt,” he places a hand over his chest and you roll your eyes. “But I know I’m right about the panties.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” you tease.

Yoongi’s gaze darkens as his arm moves to wrap around your waist. He leans in close to whisper in your ear, “Don’t fucking tempt me. I’ll have you bent over this table faster than you can blink.”

You moan, turning into his chest to hide your face.

You feel the rumble of his chest as he laughs. “Aw, poor baby is shy?”

“Shut up,” you whine into his shirt.

“Shut up this, shut up that. You’re acting like a damn brat. Is that how you talk to me?” 

“No,” you pout, thighs pressing together as Yoongi uses his body to cover you from the side as his fingers dip under your skirt, pushing your thong aside.

“Yoongi!” you gasp, hoping nobody is paying attention to the two of you. Yoongi would never allow a stranger to get a glimpse of what’s his.

“Keep being mouthy, baby, and I’ll have you gushing right where you stand,” Yoongi threatened deliciously as he rubs your clit in slow, tantalizing circles before he put his wet fingers in his mouth. 

“Well, fuck,” Seokjin states as he approaches. “Looks like I missed a show.”

“Why don’t you slide your hand under her skirt and find out,” Yoongi smirks as Seokjin laughs. 

“I would, but we’re doing our last number. Bodyguard let too many people in and we have to close for the night.” Seokjin explains with a sigh.

“Fuck, really?” Yoongi asks as he goes to Seokjin, your explicit fun is coming to an unfortunate end.

“Yeah,” Seokjin grunts. “The only reason we can finish is because the Chief’s wife begged him.”

You bust out laughing, shaking your head. “She knows a good show when she sees one.”

“Then let’s give her and the Chief a hell of a show,” Yoongi grins as he leaves with Seokjin on his trail.

You watch from your seat as Psy announces their early closing, nodding with the disappointed shouts. 

“We’ll be back tomorrow night to conclude our Western show! Thanks for coming!” Psy waves and leaves. There’s no need for him to stick around, he knows one of your boyfriends will close up.

As the men take the stage for the last time tonight, you note Hoseok and Namjoon are shirtless. You gape at them as the crowd notices them as well. 

You’re sure Namjoon’s the reason for it. This wasn’t the first time he ripped his shirt off without a backup.

Gyrating, hip thrusting, and every ungodly dance move you can imagine takes place on that sinful bar as the music pumps and the cheers of the drunk, horny crowd fill the building.

It takes almost twenty minutes for the bar to clear out and another forty for your boyfriends to finish cleaning up.

“We’ll catch up with y’all,” Namjoon says as he pours a drink for himself and Hoseok. “Gotta wash these.”

“I’ll help,” you volunteer as the men kiss you goodnight.

“Be a good girl,” Yoongi warns as he kisses your lips. “I’ll turn the cameras off at home.”

“Thank you, baby,” you kiss him one more time before he goes to Namjoon and Hoseok. The three kiss before Yoongi wraps his arm around Jimin to lead him out to the parking lot.

Once they’re gone, you approach Namjoon as he takes his shot. He downs it easily before you kiss him to get a taste.

Hoseok takes Joon’s empty shot glass to wash with his own as your hands roam over Namjoon’s broad, sweaty chest. He’s built like the man of your dreams. So buff, so big, so muscly. It makes you nearly drool all over yourself, which Namjoon seems to enjoy as his tongue weaves with yours.

Soon, you’re placed on the bar with your legs spread open with him slotted in between. 

“Damn, Joon. Leave some for me,” Hoseok teases with a smug smile as he approaches Joon’s right. 

Four hands are on your thighs and two pairs of lips are on you.

“Fuck,” you can’t think straight as Joon’s hands grip your thighs as he opens your legs further. He tugs your thong down, nearly tearing it into pieces as he removes it from your body.

Hoseok works on your shirt, pulling it over your head with your help. He does quick work of your bra, cursing and licking his lips when your tits bounce freely.

It’s not long before Namjoon is buried between your thighs, his tongue flat as he licks your wet folds. He teases your clit with his tongue, gripping your thighs in his massive hands to keep you still as Hoseok kisses you, gently tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth before kissing down your chest to take a tit in his mouth.

Their names escape your lips, body arching as one hand grips a handful of Hoseok’s hair and the other twines in Namjoon’s thick locks.

“Fuck, please,” you’re unsure of what you’re asking for but the pleasure builds inside you like a flame ready to consume every morsel of your body.

It’s Namjoon who helps you off the bar, lifting your jean skirt over your ass. 

“Fuck, look at that ass,” Namjoon murmurs more to himself than Hoseok. 

“Fuck, missed having her riding my cock.” Hoseok comments as he spanks you just to watch your cheek jiggle.

Namjoon groans as Hoseok does it again. He wants to sink his teeth into the flesh and leave his mark as a reminder every time you sit. 

Hoseok goes around the bar, climbing on. He’s nude, his erection resting heavily in his hand as he strokes himself while Namjoon finger fucks your pretty cunt open.

“Fuck my mouth, Hobi,” you plead, nearly drooling over his cock as he places the tip on your lips. 

“You know I can’t deny you, baby girl,” Hoseok groans when your tongue flicks his slit, tasting precum.

Hoseok’s torso glistens with sweat, and you’d gladly lick up every drop. In a different setting, you would kiss every inch of his body until his cock stuffs your mouth.

Namjoon grabs your ass, cursing as he makes it jiggle before his teeth sink into the meaty flesh, just to make you moan around Hoseok’s cock.

Hobi pushes further, his cock heavy on your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. Your eyes widen, filled with tears as you meet his gaze. He knows if it’s too much, you’ll tap his hand and he’ll immediately remove his thick cock from your pretty pouty lips.

This wasn’t your first threesome, much less your first time with them. You loved the thrill of being with them, getting eaten out, fucked, stuffed full of cum to show Yoongi when you crawled in his bed, just for him to fuck his cum inside you, eating you out after just to fuck you full of him again.

The moan that escapes you is obscene. You’re almost embarrassed but it spurs Namjoon on as he spreads your cheeks, his tongue circling your asshole as you melt on the bar.

Fuck, your mind is empty. 

All that matters is Namjoon’s tongue fucking your asshole while your pussy drips down your thighs and Hoseok fucks your mouth until you’re hoarse.

You gag, choking on his cock as he hits the back of your throat. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose as Hobi grabs a handful of your hair, his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly as you choke on it. You hold on as long as possible before he’s pulling out and you gasp loudly, cumming in response.

“Shit,” Namjoon chuckles. “She fucking came on my face.”

You’re too aroused to be embarrassed as Hoseok grabs you by the hair to kiss you. Namjoon strokes his long, thick cock in one hand before he lines it up at your cunt and pushes in. You gasp, allowing Hoseok to slip his tongue past your lips to deepen the kiss.

You’re on Cloud 9.

You’re not surprised your trip to the bar has ended like this, and you’re not ashamed to admit this isn’t the first or last time you’ll be bent over this bar, fucked until your legs shake.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaim when Namjoon slides home. “So fucking big.”

Namjoon doesn’t need the ego boost, but it makes his length twitch. He aims to please, he knows how to pleasure his partners. He’s experienced beyond belief and he’s willing to prove it with each gyration of his hips.

Namjoon grips your hips tighter, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucks you like an animal. He’s rough, groaning and moaning your name as he fucks you full of his fat cock. You nearly fall apart when Hoseok rubs your clit while marking your skin as his.

Pleasure courses through your veins, nearly overwhelming as Namjoon continues the rough thrust of his hips. You feel like you’re being split open in the best way possible as you scream Namjoon’s name repeatedly, creaming his cock as your orgasm hits.

“Fuck, you’re just a little cock-hungry slut for us, huh?” Namjoon smiles as he fucks you through your orgasm and into the next. You milk his cock, making him curse before he cums deep inside your hungry cum-hungry walls.

The fact that you weren’t pregnant yet was thanks to your kryptonite-like birth control, otherwise, you’d be fulfilling Jimin and Seokjin’s impreg kink.

Namjoon grabs your chin as you look at him over your shoulder, kissing you deeply. You nearly cum again as he pulls out of you.

Hoseok isn’t one to waste.

After all, waste none, want none, right?

Hoseok is on his knees before either of you can blink. His tongue slides easily into your cum-filled hole, sucking and slurping as heat rushes to your cheeks. 

When Hoseok is done eating you out, he moves to Namjoon. He takes Joon’s cock into his mouth, licking him clean before he rises to his feet.

“Come,” Hoseok takes your hand as he leads you to the couch in the locker room.

Hoseok wastes no time in kissing you, he has you on his lap in an instant.

Namjoon joins in, cock at half-mast as he watches eagerly.

“Ride my cock like the little slut we know you are. Can’t fucking get enough of our cocks, baby girl? Gotta have all seven of us? What a greedy little bitch,” Hoseok says with a hooded gaze.

His words send a tingle down your spine as you nod. There were no lies in his statement.

None at all.

Namjoon shakes his head with a warm smile. 

You straddle Hoseok's hips, lining up his cock at your entrance. Your hands grip his shoulders as you sink onto it. Your mouth drops open as he fills you to the brim just like Namjoon had.

“Hobi,” your voice is hoarse as you bounce on his dick. Namjoon watches intently as Hoseok’s hands grab hold of your ass.

Namjoon gets close, kissing Hoseok as you bounce that sweet ass on his lap. Hoseok is a sucker for you and will do anything you ask at a moment’s notice. All his boyfriends would. You’re their queen.

“Shit, ride my cock just like that. You love being a little whore, don’t ya? Yoongi warned us but we didn’t listen. Just a cock-hungry hoe for us.” Hoseok’s words make you clench around him, body hot like a furnace as you slam your lips on his and then Joon’s.

Your cunt throbs with pleasure, tits bouncing as you seek your next orgasm, screaming Hoseok’s name as you cream his fucking cock like the good little whore you are.

“Shit! Shit!” Hoseok gasps as he cums deep inside you, hips lifting off the couch as he shudders with the last of his orgasm.

You collapse on Hoseok, kissing him as you clench around him, milking him for all he’s worth. Hoseok whines, cursing when you rock your hips a few more times.

Namjoon chuckles as he helps you off Hoseok’s lap.

“Come here, baby,” he instructs as he pulls you toward him. He kisses you sweetly, his hands on your thighs, fingers bruising your sensitive skin.

Hoseok tosses him a bottle of lube and Namjoon squirts a generous amount on his fingers. His thumb breaches your ass first, making you cry out. It’s all for show though, you love having every hole fucked and stuffed, which is why Namjoon pays you no mind as he continues. 

“Hush, baby,” Namjoon instructs as he fucks your ass with his thumb before adding more lube and a second finger. You mewl, melting into him as he adds a third finger minutes later.

“Joon!” you whine as you feel the fat head of his cock at your opening. Namjoon is careful as he slides his lubed-up cock into your ass, gripping your hips tight as his head lolls back from the pleasure of your warm hole.

Hoseok kisses you as a distraction, his soft lips moving in sync with yours. 

Namjoon pulls you on top of him, your back pressed to his chest as Hoseok lines himself up at your wet cunt. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re always so fucking wet for us,” Hoseok groans, eyes fluttering shut as he feels the warmth of your soaking wet cunt.

“That’s it, baby. Take our cocks like the good girl you are,” Namjoon grunts as he thrusts upward. 

Both holes are stuffed full and Hoseok takes a pert nipple between his teeth, tugging just to make you scream for him.

Pleasure courses throughout your body as your spine tingles and your body quakes with each delicious thrust from both men. Euphoria engulfs you as you cream Hoseok’s cock while clenching around Namjoon’s.

“Shit!” Hoseok cries out, your warm wet cunt bringing him to orgasm. He pants, moaning your name into your neck as he comes undone inside your soaking wet pussy.

Namjoon isn’t too far behind. He curses, cock twitching as he fills your ass with his cum. He’s stuffed both holes generously tonight.

He’s out of breath as he pulls out of you.

Hoseok is a greedy bitch as he flips you onto your stomach, his tongue in your ass as he licks you clean.

Namjoon laughs as he grabs a handful of Hoseok’s hair. “Looks like the cum-hungry slut is you, huh?”

Hoseok moans in response, licking his lips before Namjoon kisses him, tasting himself on Hoseok’s tongue.

It takes ten minutes for all of you to regain your breath and your clothing.

“Let’s go cuddle at home,” Namjoon says before yawning.

“Please,” Hoseok states as he laces his fingers with yours. “Sleep with us, baby girl.”

“I will,” you assure them as your sleepy selves walk out of the bar toward Joon’s car after locking up. He drives the three of you home safely, leading you to the shower in his room where the three of you make out before climbing into bed to cuddle.

<< previous // next >>

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[wastingmylifesecondatatime]

UPDATE: 18.11.2024

NOTE: You can find other masterlists in my mother masterlist

I have updated the following masterlists:

Genshin Impact Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

BTS Poly Masterlist

Golden Trio Era - Gryffindor - One Shots/Drabbles

Marauders Era Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Maurauders Era Masterlist - Series

Avatar: The Last Airbender Masterlist - Zuko - One Shots/Drabbles

[rainbowsuitcase]

Namseok X dom Yoongi

smut

Namjoon and Hoseok are both subs but they make it work. They’re at least lucky that Namjoon is a service top and Hoseok is the happiest when he’s getting fucked but.

Hoseok gets off on praise, he wants to be told how good he’s taking it, how pretty he looks, how he was made to be fucked. And Namjoon always tries to give him that because he wants nothing but to please, but he knows that his whiny, stuttered nonsense isn’t really doing it for Hoseok.

Namjoon himself wants to be degraded, wants to be laughed at for losing the ability to speak the moment he sticks his dick into something, but his sweet, sweet boyfriend Hobi isn’t capable of that.

Their sex life is good but not good enough and they both know it even if they don’t talk about it, because they’re afraid it would ruin everything and they love each other too much.

Hoseok is the one to finally do something because Namjoon wouldn't. He wants to, he thinks about it and jerks off to his ideas, but he would never act on them. Anyway, he doesn’t need to, because Hosek does it. Hoseok pays for a video chat session with an online dom Yoongi and it’s hot.

it’s hotter than Namjoon expected it to be, to have a third person there, watching them fuck and telling them what to do. Yoongi tells Namjoon, "Can you really fuck him the way he needs? Look at you, you can’t even speak," and in the next breath he’s praising Hoseok.

"So pretty, baby, just lay back and take it. That's what you need, isn’t it? What do you think, is Namjoon good enough?" and Hoseok can barely answer, nodding frantically as he pulls Namjoon into a kiss, hungry and more desperate than ever before.

Yoongi orders them to cum at the same time and then praises both of them, guides them through the aftercare and neither of them says it, but they both feel the silence and emptiness when Yoongi ends the call.

At first, Namjoon and Hoseok agreed that they would only pay for Yoongi on special occasions, like birthdays or anniversaries, but just after the first session they both know they need more.

Once a month quickly turns into once a week and then they think about Yoongi even when they fuck without him, drive each other crazy talking about what he would tell them to do, how hot his voice sounds, fantasizing about what the dom would do if he was actually there with them. Which inevitably leads to a discussion about how they love each other very much but they also want Yoongi a lot.

Dom Yoongi breaks his own rule about never getting seriously involved with a client for them and much more excitedly than he expected climbs into their bed.

He fucks Hoseok while Namjoon preps him for his cock and then lays on his back, makes Hoseok ride him and makes Namjoon fuck him into his boyfriend. He tells Namjoon how he’s fucking Hoseok better than he ever could, pulls Hoseok down to kiss him while Namjoon pants into his neck, both of them whining so, so pretty for him. 

Hoseok cums first with Yoongi following right after, finally turning his praise on Namjoon too, telling him how good he was for the both of them, that it’s alright, that he can cum now.

Namjoon and Hoseok are both completely boneless afterwards while Yoongi takes care of them, cleans them up and makes sure they’re alright. He lingers by the bed when he’s done, unsure if he should stay but unwilling to leave and Namjoon and Hoseok solve that for him by pulling him between them.

Yoongi finds himself often coming back, often “forgetting” to send the check, often staying until the morning. He finds himself catching feelings. And when he panics and tries to put some distance between them to protect his heart, he finds Namjoon and Hoseok pulling him back in and asking him to stay.

[btschooseafic]

AO3 Recs

Nuts About You by albinococonut23 [completed]

Namjoon x hoseok (namseok), magic, sort of squirrel shapeshifter / hybrid hoseok, witches, some smut

Hoseok gets accidentally turned into a squirrel.

[byuljoonie]

My birthday was yesterday so finally had to change the number in my bio🥲 anywho new post coming soon, but idk for who yet. It might be Taekook, Namseok, Jimin, Seokjin, or Yoongi(😭😭😭😭).

[candlelightandmoonshine]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32034370

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [6]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 6.9k

If you weren't able to catch the author's note, update will be very slow due to my campus enrolling us to a government extracurricular that spans for three months so updates with be VERY slow until then. Sorry this one took long, had to remove one chunk out of this chapter so I could have it posted as soon as I could. Also ik the last chapter's ending was so rushed, I'll try to fix it once I get the time so for now, ignore that mess ;-;

EDIT: plenty of details edited out but nothing too important, also fixed a few mistakes.

Please vote Jimin in Visa Choice in MAMA voting and push Namseok to the top 10 for Fan's Choice award! STREAM I'LL BE THERE

<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>

________

“Noona, please… Just turn around…”

“I would if I could, but I'm at my limit here!”

“I will break your fingers if you don’t move.”

“Try it and I’ll tell Namjoon you were the one who spilled alcohol on the book he was reading the other day!”

“Just turn around damn it!”

“I already am! I'm not gonna take a fucking peak!”

You're living through a nightmare.

Never in your life did you think working as a make-up artist for an up-and-rising boy idol group would eventually lead you to where you are now; with half of your body out of the bathroom with an arm stretched inside to hold Jimin’s hand that's also reaching out for yours while he stands in front of the toilet.

What are you, Bangtan's—The current biggest boyband in the world—makeup artists doing, holding onto one of the member’s hands while he’s in the bathroom exactly?

Soulbond strain, that’s what the doctor had said. That's what caused the constant fatigue you and Jimin were feeling yesterday which eventually caused you both to pass out from exhaustion. Due to how ill-informed they are of both your marks, they weren't aware of how fragile your new bond was and how much touching should be involved for the first few days.

So now, you are sentenced—sentenced because having to hold your soulmate's hand while you piss, and eventually, shower and shit is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you—to nonstop skinship with Jimin for a week. Though after a few days, your body could withstand not holding his hand for almost a minute and you hoped it goes past an hour when the week finally ends.

Today marks the last day you both will be confined to the hospital as they've finally cleaned up one of the spare rooms in the dorm so you could move in.

You were so glad you could finally eat something more nutritious than bland soup. It should be a talent to be able to cook a soup so tasteless it would even make a white person frown despite the numerous vegetables and meat on them.

Since Jungkook's Birthday, you found yourself more often than not staring at the ceiling after eating, dreaming about eating other food so intensely it's like you could taste them in your buds.

A few days have passed since you found out you were soulmates with your best friends but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it.

The thought that these five—possibly seven depending on Seokjin and Hoseok’s test results later today—down to earth, aphrodite-blessed men with even more beautiful traits were tethered to you is bizarre. The idea never fails to short-circuit your brain every time you think about it. 

And it's hard not to, not when you wake up sleeping next to the peaceful face of South Korea’s IT boy—with his arms wrapped around you and his head nuzzled under your chin; Its something you’re still trying to get used to as you’ve never dared to sleep while cuddling with your friends, no matter how tired you might be. It was far too intimate of an act, reserved for those who are romantically involved and for someone with feelings as fickle as yours back then, it was inappropriate.

Not that it mattered much now but it's still difficult to be comfortable with the domesticity of it all.

Save for Taehyung and Seokjin, everyone else has continued working, although you had advised a weary looking Hoseok to take a break, he insisted that he's fine whilst practically dragging himself out of the room. Namjoon had assured you that he'll watch over his hyung but you had threatened Yoongi for extra measures. 

Speaking of work, your friends have been blowing up your phone since Jungkook's birthday, asking why they were required to sign a whole different NDA and you told them about your soulmates. 

All of them reacted positively, Minhyuk had even pleaded to hear about how you discovered and had asked to be informed of all the latest happenings, from the courting, dates, and even the bedroom—something you had promised to hit him for once you're back to work.

But for now, you were stuck with a foot out of the bathroom and body turned to the opposite with an arm stretched far out to hold Jimin's hand as he finished his business. 

So far, there's been no accidental flashing, to which you've been thankful for. The whole ordeal is already awkward as it is with only having to hear each other pee.

Jimin couldn’t even jokingly flirt with you the whole time, far too mortified with the idea of both parties being able to hear the stream of piss to even bother coming up with jokes to lighten up the situation, nor could you dare look into his eyes after the first few times you both had to go through this. You had refrained from eating too much in fear of having to shit during the week but you knew it would eventually happen.

Especially since you both have been greenlit to eat take outs and Seokjin had generously offered to buy you both food—bless that wonderful, handsome man—and dragged Taehyung out with him. 

You had been hesitant to make a few demands at first because do you even deserve the kindness Seokjin is showing you after hurting him for years? But the man proved himself devoted once more when he listed down the food you’ve been craving desperately for without hearing it from your lips.

(Tae had joked that maybe it's the soulmate mark manifesting a little late and Jimin elbowed him for that.)

You didn’t even get to tell him not to bother when he began to loudly chant gibberish as he pulled Taehyung out of the room with him.

After all the babying and princess treatment you've been receiving in the short time of knowing you were soulmates, it's hard not to feel frustrated having your best friends become your beck and call when they—save for Yoongi—hadn't been doing so for the past few years. It was somewhat pressuring that you could ask Jungkook to brush his teeth and immediately drink orange juice and he'd do it without question, if not gargling the juice for a little while longer just because you asked him to do it. 

From living alone and getting used to doing things by yourself, to suddenly having five people who'd follow your whims almost blindly, was overwhelming and slowly becoming more annoying than it is helpful.

If it wasn't for the guilt from getting irritated, you would've blown up on the first day when most of your soulmates had refused to let you stand up and walk around the room in fear of having you collapse.

Sure you had passed out from the soulbond strain but that same bond rendered you invulnerable to most things, you're not about to die walking around the room with Jimin, Yoongs.

You couldn't fault Jungkook and Tae for wanting to baby you. Jungkook never had someone to pamper and spoil, and Taehyung only had Jungkook; Even then, it wasn't in a romantic way and Jungkook was also being taken care of by the others so he didn't need to do much. His ex and him didn't last long enough for when BTS’ fame had skyrocketed and he had more money than he could ever spend in his life and is quickly running out of things to spend it on.

Still, it was hard to take all the coddling. It was better when they treated you with the distance platonic relationships had granted you.

The sound of a zipper broke through the awkward atmosphere before the flush of the toilet came. With a tug on your hand, you stepped back into the bathroom to follow Jimin to the sink so he could wash his hand, eyes still refusing to meet.

God, how did a friendship where he could literally strip off to his underwear in front of each other could turn so awkward like this?!

After spraying his hands with an overloading amount of alcohol—”Noona that’s overkill, I’ve already washed my hands.” “That’s just water, I’m not letting you touch me with a hand only washed with water!”— you and Jimin returned to the bed, huddled next to each other as you both scrolled on social media with both your bare legs thrown over his.

There's been comments left on your instagram page asking for Jimin's health and you decided to reply to one comment to say that he's fine and recovering. Silencing the app, you move to twitter when the door suddenly opens and in comes Seokjin holding up two plastic bags of takeout, flexing them as if they were golden medals and you sit up.

“Your handsome savior has arrived with fries and actually good food!”

“Hi noona!” Taehyung greets as he steps out of Jin's shadow.

“Jin you're actually the most good looking man I've ever seen in this forsaken planet, did you get me cheese and sour cream flav—”

“Of course I did,” He scoffed, putting down two paper bags and one drink carrier on your bedside table before placing the rest on the table near the bathroom door. “Who do you think I am?!”

“He almost ordered it all in cheese until I reminded him that you wanted sour cream too, noona.” Taehyung chimes in with a grin as he closes the door, a hand hidden behind his back while he holds a covered cup in the other. 

Seokjin snapped his head towards him with an indignant ‘Ya!’, to which Tae only giggled at.

“You bought that heinous, god awful sweet tea with my money! How could you do this to me?!”

“I offered to pay but you—”

“WITH MY MONEY!”

Everyone only laughed and Jin trudged over with Jimin’s lunch in hand, offering it with an outreached arm and he took it. At least, he tried to. Jin suddenly raised his hand over his head. You watched as Jin continuously teased Jimin whose reach is limited due to the need to be holding your hand. 

Jimin then finally got a grip on the plastic bag’s bottom and suddenly, their fishing game became a tug of war.

“Wait wait wait! You're going to tear it! It's going to spill!”

“Just fucking give it to me, hyung!” Jimin grunt, tugging one last time and the side of the bag rips, immediately Jin lets go.

“Why would you pull that hard?!”

Jimin ignored him in favor of pulling out his container, which he realized is overwhelmingly little compared to your three packages.

“Hyung!” He screams with his bottom lip jut out, dragging out the word. “How come I only have one food package? I'm also a patient, you know?!”

“You didn't request anything.” Jin says nonchalantly, shrugging.

“We've been together for years hyung! You should've known what I wanted like you did noona! This is blatant favoritism hyung!”

Seokjin ignored him, handing you a large bowl of mixed flavored fries, a large boba tea, and a plastic container where an aroma of caramelized fried chicken is leaking out of it the moment it leaves the paper bag. Next to you, Jimin scoffed, incredulous as he crossed his arms.

“She gets fried chicken, fries and boba but I only get Jajangmyeon?!” 

Once again, he ignored the younger man, rolling his eyes as Taehyung bounds up to his disgruntled best friend to reveal the half occupied half empty paper beverage carrier hidden behind his back, grinning widely as Jimin’s face morphs into disbelieving betrayal.

“Wow, so this is how we do things now, huh? I can’t believe you’d do this to me when I’m a patient!” 

“I’m so sorry, you poor poor thing.” Taehyung pouts as he offers out the food and Jimin spared no time in swiping the bag from him.

With their bicker finally coming to an end and Taehyung comfortably sitting crossed legs at the foot of you and Jimin’s bed, you turned to your food.

After eating nothing but bland, runny soup since the night at Jungkook’s birthday, tasting the cheddar almost made you tear up. You had taken advantage of the privilege of tasting far too long, being able to finally ingest something else felt euphoric, as if you were given the chance to walk through the garden of eden.

Exaggerated much but it's the only way you could explain the feeling.

Wasting no more time, you dug into the french fries bowl. 

You hear Seokjin whisper something underneath his breath, sounding incredulous. You watched as he crossed over to Taehyung and snatched his cup, ignoring the younger man’s indignant yelp and took a sip.

Instantly, the mixed taste of cheddar and sour cream was washed away by the familiar taste of Taehyung’s heinous tea preference of illegal amounts of tea and milk. The harsh difference of the three flavors along with the texture of fries gliding on your tongue makes you gag. Your soulmates react, Jimin placing his food down to place his cupped hands under you as if trying to catch your puke while Tae flinches, about to reach over until he sees his brother already positioned to help you and turns to fetch you a glass of water instead.

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.”

“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.” You mimic in a tone far too high to be his and Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

“I’m sorry I’m getting cranky after someone disrupted me eating—” Your words abruptly end as Jin suddenly surged in to hug you.

You look at Taehyung who’s staring longingly at his tea still in Jin’s grasp behind you before turning to a similarly perplexed Jimin mid-bite of his tteokbokki. Raising an eyebrow at him, he responds with a shrug before continuing to stuff food into his mouth.

But as you rested both hands on his shoulders, Jin suddenly sniffled.

“Jin?”

Alert, you gently push him off and your eyes meet with his misty pairs, matched with a teary smile stretching plush red lips. Your heart leapt to your throat as both his hands cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead in under a second. But instead of getting a seizure or being struck with an overwhelming amount of pain, nothing happened.

Instead a warm feeling, akin to what the rest of your soulmates caused you, wrapped around you like a thick blanket and you froze.

Then, Jin stands with an excited yip and excused himself out of the room, leaving you and the others confused.

What?

You didn't need to look at Jimin or Tae to know they all had huge question marks hanging over their heads as they stared at where they last saw their hyung disappear out of the room.

Why didn't your body react from having someone kiss your forehead while your bonds were still unsettled? From what you've read, there's always a chance of it happening, yet even if your relationship with him stretched over years, there shouldn't be any reason why he's not causing you and Jimin pain.

Unless he's also a soulmate.

Immediately you were reminded of the time he had carried you and wondered why no one ever questioned why nothing fatal had happened when he had done that in the DFA. Even if it had everyone in a flurry of panic, someone should've noticed and questioned it right? Yoongi should have at least.

There was also that one time Hoseok had held your hand in the car, it was brief but it should've done something still with a Nexus bond as complicated and huge as yours. Yet like with Seokjin, nothing happened.

“What did I just watch?” Taehyung began and you wish you had the answer. “Did I just witness my soulmate get stolen by Seokjin hyung?”

“No,” Jimin says, eyes thoughtful as he looks at you before turning to the bathroom door. “I think we just discovered that hyung is also tethered to her.”

Both your head snapped to the man next to you.

In the small amount of time you stared at your soulmate, the pieces began to click as the cogs in your mind whirs with all the possibilities before it took you back to the moment the horrendous taste of Taehyung's tea violated your tongue. Your mouth falls into an ‘o’.

“Shared Tastebuds.” You mutter.

Jimin opens his mouth to ask you to elaborate when Seokjin reenters with a doctor following behind him, red faced but the blinding wide smile he wore was enough to make you forget he was crying not a second before. The doctor next to him looked ecstatic, eyes a little crazy at the newfound discovery.

“Congratulations, it seems that also Mr. Kim here is a part of your Nexus bond!” He says a little cheerily as he hugs the clipboard close to his chest. “It would do you all well to inform the rest of the group of this finding. From a professional standpoint, I do think that Mr. Jung has a huge chance of also being a part of your Nexus.”

To say you never had doubts that the other two members were a part of your nexus would be a lie, you had hoped they were but the absence of mark manifestation symptoms made it hard to believe they’ll be one of your soulmates.

Who knew all it took to find out if you and Jin were connected was eating while in the presence of each other? If you hadn’t fainted from the lack of food and the Soulbond strain, would you have found out about it earlier?

Was he the reason you’d taste the savory taste of a well-seasoned grilled meat or the sweet fizzling taste of a soda late at night yesterday?

Or is the bond you both have will allow for long distance sense sharing? There are two types of Shared Tastebuds after all.

“The results are due today right?” Jimin asks and the doctor turns to his watch.

“This afternoon I'm sure just before you both are discharged. But,” He turns to Jin. “For now I'll be taking Mr. Kim with me to register his soulbond and involvement in your Nexus.”

When they left again, the three of you remained unmoving, stunned. 

It must be Jimin’s touch that had kept you calm throughout the revelation because you didn’t know how to react. There’s no doubt joy in the hurricane of emotions swirling in your chest, as well as the pacifying effect from both your and Jimin’s touch overwhelming the rising stress and conflict at the back of your head, forcing and pushing them back into the shadows.

You knew you should be stressing over the possibilities of having seven soulmates and how you’d divide your time to be able to equally spend time with everyone, it was already difficult having five these past few days. More often than not, you found yourself suffering a headache caused by the constant noise and overwhelming sensations each individual soulmarks gave you. 

From the constant sounds of Namjoon’s heartbeat at the back of your head, and Jimin’s touch making your skin thrum, even the Amoneuron in your blood is having a hard time keeping you away from soulbond hyperactivity.

Someone’s phone erupted into a shrill scream, it was Taehyung’s. Picking it up, he automatically puts it on speaker and holds the end of the phone close to his mouth. 

“Is it true? Please tell me it’s not true! I’m already competing with most of my hyungs for noona’s time!”

“This isn’t a competition, gguk.” Yoongi drawled in the background. “Didn’t we already establish that? No fighting for her hear—”

“What soulmark do they have?!” 

“Manager Sejin is already on the way with a lawyer to handle the legal side of things, how are you guys doing right now? Is noona good?” Namjoon asks, sounding closer to the mic.

“She didn't faint if that's what you're asking about. If anything,” Taehyung turns to you. “She looks a little out of it.”

“How did it happen? Is it the test? Is it out already?” Hoseok's voice came through, nervous.

“Yeah we'll deliver it to you later also, remember hyung complaining about tasting something weird? Apparently he was tasting the hospital special soup—”

_______

On your dismissal, the doctor had handed the eldest their test results. Seokjin had thrown him out since he already knew what it'll entail but held on protectively on Hoseok's envelope.

Jimin had proposed a small celebration for the mark's manifestation for everyone, nothing too grand, just a few take outs appropriate for tomorrow’s dinner—because Jungkook and Tae had requested pancakes and waffles for whatever reason—and a small cake. 

With five—not counting Jimin as he insisted that you both sit the activity out and Hoseok who visited his sister but promised to return the next day to read his result at dinner—men at your disposal, boxing up and moving your items into their dorm was easy, even if Yoongi has noticeably slowed down the stairs carrying the same one box he’s picked up since earlier; not that you’d call him out on it but you knew Seokjin and Jimin would to do it instead.

If it wasn't for Jungkook's eagerness to have you move in, it would have taken you all longer than you had today.

It was surreal seeing the items in your home slowly decrease, the mass on your shelves and all the personality of every room disappear with every box filled. You had been staying in the same apartment since you were 21, to have its familiar sights and spots be slowly stripped off of its glow felt sadder than you thought it would be.

BigHit had requested your company friends do all the basic packing such as your clothes and products while you were at the hospital, it wasn't forced but they acted like it was anyway. They (read: Minhyuk and Nabi) had jokingly complained about being tasked with doing things your soulmates should’ve been doing, Minhyuk going as far as threatening to sneak off something into one of the boxes and you feared for your life for what that something might entail.

You offered to buy them anything they want the next time you all visit the mall in exchange for their full cooperation and Minhyuk had vowed to run your bank dry with a sly grin.

“It's not like you’d even need them anymore when you’ve got the world’s biggest boyband as your soulmates, might as well spend your hard earned money on important things; friends, especially me though.”

You wouldn't deny the fact that you tried dating Guwon with the hopes of living lavishly without lifting a finger but the world would have to bathe in fire and water before you'd let them buy you expensive things outside of food; that you accept because you'd be able to taste and experience delicious dishes. Not to mention, it's practical.

Having your furniture moved out as well was out of the question after an hour of argument with Jimin and Jin who insisted on having you buy new decorations, except for the books, trinkets, and plethora of BTS collection you were given by the members themselves every comeback.

You argued that you didn’t need them to buy new furniture when you already have working ones.

But that argument was easily disproved when the maknaes (plus you as an unwilling participant and Namjoon because: "hyung you’re big, we need to weight test it!") had jumped into your bed and the frames creaked and trembled.

He was right, as much as it pains you to accept it.

But just because he's right doesn't mean you agree with him.

In the end, with one against eventually all of them, you were due for furniture shopping with Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon the next day. Today though, you were bunking with Jimin due to the need for constant skinship and the lack of bed in your new room.

You spent the better half of the afternoon unboxing and filling your closet with your items which barely filled two shelves out of six that were bolted onto the wall of the small well-lit room.

“Noona, your closet is a bit… barren.”

“The closets are just huge, I have plenty.”

“I’m concerned that you think this is plenty.” He says, thumbing the material of your cream cardigan.

“Don't you fucking dare Park Jimin.”

He smiled. “Who says I'm the one who'll do the buying? I don’t gift clothes noona, you should know that.”

After finding out your and Jin’s soulmark, you had thought deciding what you ate for dinner until the bond settled would be a hassle or until you both learn how to disable it. But Jin had simply agreed on your choices that night with a shrug of his shoulder.

And that amount of trust in whatever you’ll pick scares you in ways you never thought it would.

It's just a simple decision, one would say, but the ugly voices at the back of your head wondered if you even deserve this amount of consideration from him when you hadn’t noticed his lingering feelings for you for years.

But it seems like that fact has long been swept under the rug when the maknaes bounded up to you with mischief in their eyes.

Upon the realization that their Jin hyung would agree to almost anything you’d eat for a while, Jungkook and Taehyung wasted no second running up to you to propose the idea of ordering you a strawberry ice cream for dessert, claiming it was the only way to test their hyung’s love for her.

“You see noona, if hyung really loves you like he said he does, he would suck it up like the man he is.” Jungkook had reasoned to you with Taehyung nodding behind him and Jimin grinning mischievously next to you.

Fortunately for Jin, you don’t think forcing him to taste strawberry flavored things on the day he found out he wasn’t untethered would be a good decision despite the loud voice at the back of your head goading you to follow through their plan for fun.

But you promised the maknaes that you’ll do it someday.

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful with a few talks about the schedule changes and the rumors Jungkook had read and heard from his small friend group outside his brothers. If it wasn’t for the soft glow of gold at the edge of your vision from where your foot is resting on top of Jimin’s under the table and the faint outline of the red string of fate stretching across to Yoongi’s right pinkie, you would’ve tricked your brain into thinking it was a normal dinner with your friends.

With the words streaming out of Jungkook’s mouth, Tae and Jimin’s additional information and the scandalous gasp and widened eyes around the table once the pieces began to form a picture, you almost thought it was an average weekly dinner with your bosses.

But soon enough, plates are taken into the kitchen and Jimin is already pulling you up to your room, saying how he wants to take a shower and that you should take your toiletries.

Something you had dreaded since you heard the doctor had sentenced you to be in constant skinship with Jimin.

Why are you even nervous?! You had seen him and his brothers in their boxers from being one of their make up artists yet your heart had been thudding loudly in your ears the moment you had entered his room with your travel bag in hand.

Turns out, there was a truth in the saying “Ignorance is bliss” in the fact that knowing something could alter the way you think and perceive even the smallest of actions. In your case, knowing Jimin's your soulmate while facing the dilemma of showering together had you completely fucked up.

On the verge of a breakdown, half a foot on the ledge and the other hanging over the fall.

You had swam in public pools with him before but it was always with the presence of others, to be alone in a small room in nothing but your undies while maintaining skinship with your soulmate—

Isn't that a bit too intimate?

Will you even survive?

To stand half naked in a minimal space alone with Jimin, your heart might just collapse.

Seeing him in his underwear shouldn't faze you as much as it should. He and the others has stripped in front of you in a haste of changing into the next costume for the next performance but in the minimal space of his bathroom where you both are secluded away from the other dwellers of the building and he's already topless and is now unbuttoning and sliding the zippers of his jorts, the mass in your throat kept on thickening with the tension in the air.

Your eyes roamed the soft, flatness of his stomach; from up his lightly freckled bare chest and down to the thin trail of hair down his abdomen. The prominent bones of his adonis belt had your throat drying up.

Seeing him topless shouldn't affect you the way it should yet you found yourself heating up at the sight of them.

When he begins to remove his pants, you force yourself to look away, cheeks burning hot as you thumb the top buttons of your—Taehyung’s—polo before beginning to undo them all with your heart thudding loudly in your ears.

The string tied to your finger lights up in a rhythmic beat, persistent and hurried. Wrapping your fingers around it, Yoongi's loud concern immediately washes over your body. You respond to him by pushing down reassurance down the lane and the thread dulls from one side.

“Did hyung contact you?”

You turn to Jimin, already stripped down to his boxers.

God is really testing you today, putting a handsome man in his underwear in front of you and tempting you to let your gaze fall down for a glimpse of his thick muscled thighs you always saw through the fabric of his skinny jeans.

“Ye-yeah, nothing to worry about though. Give me your foot, I need to remove my shirt.”

Obediently, he puts his foot forward and you step on it before making quick work of your shirt. You feel his burning gaze roam your skin and you shiver from its intensity.

By the time you had your pants pooling on the floor alongside his, your heart is thudding uncontrollably in a way that might concern Namjoon at how fast it's going.

Why is the calming effect of Jimin's touch absent when you need it?

“Ready to go?” 

You almost jumped at how hoarse his voice had gotten but recovered quickly and nodded, stepping first into the shower and twisting the valve towards the hotter temperature. Jimin hissed the moment the water touched his skin, breaking the stifling tension for a moment.

“How are your skin not burning off?! It's so hot!”

You rolled your eyes. “You're being dramatic, it's not that hot.”

“It is! The mirror is literally steaming!” He exclaimed, pointing at the long horizontal mirror above the sink which is indeed, fogging up. 

Jimin then leaned over, his naked chest touching your back. Goosebumps prickled your skin and you barely stopped the urge to shiver as he manipulated the valve until he was satisfied with the temperature. When he steps back, you finally let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Hearing your exhale, he laughed lightheartedly. The fucker did it on purpose.

Trying to ignore the thumps of your racing heart, you busied yourself with the task of washing your hair. You reached for the shampoo bottle and popped open the cap, body still facing the wall.

“Noona.”

You looked over your shoulder and Jimin was scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” He shyly asks, his sly attitude from earlier nonexistent. “I've never done that with someone else before. I-I’ve always wanted to do that now and now that we're soulmates, I was–I was wondering if maybe I–we could—”

“Not even with that girl you’ve dated before?”

He shook his head. “We were too busy to do something like that, noona. Idol lives and all that. It's one of the reasons why we broke up.”

“She was pretty nice though.”

His lips quirks up. “Don’t get jealous noona, you’re my soulmate after all.”

You hit his shoulder and he brought his arms up to shield himself, giggling. “Do you want to wash each other’s hair or not?!”

Despite your agreement, you were beyond nervous as you handed him the shampoo and turned around to shut the shower off. The string on your finger thrummed once more, still concerned as your heart leapt up to your throat when Jimin's fingers began to thread and scrape his nails against your scalp.

A thrill of pleasure shoots down your spine and you hold back the urge to mewl as he begins to put more pressure on his motions.

It stayed like that for a while and you reveled in the pure domesticity of it all. 

When Jimin retracts his hands, you reach for his shampoo and order him to turn around.

“What if I don't want to?” He challenges with a mischievous smirk.

“If it gets in your eyes, it's your fault.”

He giggled and shrunk down to your height, to which you hit his shoulder for and he laughed, standing back up. 

“Can you even reach the top of my head like this?”

“Fine but don't complain about your knees hurting, you wanted this.” You jokingly say as he bends his knees once more, a playful lilt in his eyes.

Once you lathered the shampoo enough, you began. 

You’ve seen multiple couples on screen shower together and had once wondered how it’d felt having someone to help reach the spots you couldn’t as well as do those domestic things such as brushing your teeth together and just washing each other in general. The actors always made them natural and romantic, with the soft lighting bouncing off their skin and their laughter ringing in the small space.

But showering with Jimin is anything you’ve ever thought of.

Against the other members, Jimin is easily dwarfed by them, matched with the constant jokes about his height, it's easy to forget that the man is still taller than the average man. He towered over you, his eyes intense and lit with a playful sultriness. His lips twisted into a mischievous smirk as he bent his knees low enough where you could touch the top of his head without risking a stiff neck or standing on your tiptoes.

He’s peering up at you yet you feel smaller under his gaze.

He had always done this, getting into your face while you retouched his makeup. In a way, it was nice that you’re slowly regaining the normalcy 

But it's not appreciated when he’s doing it when you’re already fighting demons trying so hard not to ogle at his body and explode from how flustered you are.

“Are you seriously getting flushed now noona? We’ve done this plenty of times already, why now?”

Is he seriously asking you that?

He laughed. Your thoughts must’ve reflected on your face.

“Didn’t know you’d be affected by something as normal as this. Don’t you see us naked at least every other day?” He asks with a quirk to his eyebrow and you narrowed your eyes further at him.

“You know damn well why,” You say, slapping his shoulder before turning to open the shower once more. Laughing when the water burst open above him, cutting him off from replying.

With the tension dissolving with the shampoo on his hair, a playful grin replaced the coy smirk and with his newly washed hair, he grabbed your arms in an iron grip and began to shake his head at you, flicking water from his hair and onto you.

When he was done, he then pulled you into the stream with a bubbling laugh as he watched the shampoo suds dissolve with the water. But with both your arms pinned in place, you weren't able to wipe your eyes and had them closed the moment he had you under the shower head.

“I'm—I’m going to put chili in your fucking water, I can't see!”

With sorrys in between fits of giggles, Jimin reached up to wipe your face for you when he realized this.

Shower with Jimin sailed smoothly from that point on. After his teasing, he made no more attempts to fluster you, even when he was scrubbing your back a little longer than it should've taken. 

He had, however, made comments on how many steps there are for you to shower.

“Why do you need to shampoo twice, use soap AND body wash? It’s not like you’d ever get sick anymore when I’m here.”

You just rolled your eyes and told him to leave if he’s going to complain about your routine. Eventually though, you speed through your routine due to him whining about how he’s starting to feel cold, lightheaded—to which he dramatized by leaning his hurting head on your shoulder—, and is suddenly sleepy.

Changing into your pajamas was a little hard as you attempted to do it all under the safety of a towel while also maintaining skinship with Jimin every other ten seconds who's also doing the same.

You managed somehow and soon enough, you both situated yourselves into the bed, with your legs thrown over his and backreading the bangtan gc that had awakened the moment Jimin had his phone.

Surprisingly, even Jungkook was active.

           [21:24] Mimi: It's so weird tae            [21:24] Mimi: I’ve never seen someone use soap AND body wash THEN washes their hair t w i c e            [21:24] Hoba: I do that…            [21:25] Mimi: That’s expected hyung, you’re a neat freak.            [21:25] You: Why are you so weird about me being clean?!            [21:26] Mimi: ITS PSYCHOPATH BEHAVIOR            [21:26] Jinnie: hoba I think he just called you a psychopath            [21:26] Hoba: 🙁            [21:27] Ggukie: NOW YOU MADE HYUNG SAD            [21:27] Hoba: 🙁            [21:27] Hoba: you think im weird jimin-ah?🙁            [21:27] Yoongs: why is this even a conversation            [21:27] Joonie: Jimin just because you don’t do it, doesn’t mean it's unorthodox.            [21:28] Minnie: you’re one of them, are you hyung?!            [21:28] Tete: I still cant believe Jimin just showered with noona…            [21:28] Tete: why are we breezing through that information?            [21:28] Jinnie: ok so lets not talk about that            [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want for breakfast, beautiful?

Reading his message felt like cold water dousing you awake and you’re suddenly attacked by a wave of guilt.

Is it okay for you to even make demands like this? Do you even deserve being Seokjin’s dearest?

“Ask him for waffles, I'm craving for them.” Jimin says, his voice slicing through your thoughts and you turn back to your phone.

           [21:29] Ggukie: ask me too hyung!            [21:29] Jinnie: alright I’ll bite            [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want brat?            [21:30] Ggukie: noona’s love :DD

You watched as Jin’s profile pic pop up and came down multiple times, and each time they do, your and Jimin’s giggles multiply.

           [21:32] Jinnie: I’m blocking you            [21:32] Joonie: I should have you kicked out for that stupid, corny ass joke oh my god            [21:32] Yoongs: that activated my fight or flight            [21:32] Yoongs: don’t do that again            [21:32] Ggukie: hyung ask me again            [21:32] Ggukie: promise I’ll respond properly this time :]            [21:33] Jinnie: Y/N?            [21:33] Ggukie: HYUNG            [21:33] Minnie: she says she wants waffles :>            [21:33] Jinnie: I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth, Park Jimin            [21:34] Minnie: D:            [21:34] You: I want scrambled eggs and pancakes :D

“Betrayal!”

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then.” 

“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then. Give me that!” You stretch your arm away from him but Jimin was faster, managing to pluck your phone from your grasp and moving to place it on his side of the floor.

Without hesitation, you launched yourself at his hand making him yelp before it dissolved into giggles when you managed to catch him and had curled up around his arm, fingers attempting to pry him away from your phone.

It was how Tae had found you both in and immediately lept in, taking your side the moment he had seen you and Jimin tussled for your phone. 

With Tae’s help, you were able to take back your phone only to see that it had locked itself from the many times the screen had picked up on both you and Jimin’s palms and had typed in the wrong combination after the other. For that, you slapped his arm.

“What did I do wrong?! It’s not my fault the stupid phone couldn’t differentiate between palm and fingers!”

“If I wasn’t required to touch you, I’d have you kicked out of this room.”

Jimin pushed himself up, face incredulous. “This is literally my room.”

“Next week you should sleep in my room instead, noona. I’d love to have you there.” Taehyung says, pulling you to his chest and side-eyeing his friend. “I wouldn’t be as mean as Jiminie.”

“Why am I getting disrespected in my own room? Is it gang up on Jimin day?!”

“When is it not gang up on Jimin day?”

“Why you—GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife

[theharrowing]

Dollhouse 💛 23: Difficult to reconcile

Hoseok’s job is simple: He enters the host’s body, he confiscates or terminates the target, and he gets back into his own body by dinnertime, easy peasy. Until a client comes along who becomes as obsessed with his life as he becomes with theirs, and the lines between their realities begin to blur.

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💛 Hoseok x Namjoon, Jungkook x Yoongi 💛 word count: 7.6k 💛 hired assassin au, sci-fi, body swapping, graphic violence, infidelity, body dysphoria, lgbtq, smut, fluff, angst, poly, nsfw, smut, 21+ 💛 chapter warnings: tough conversations and big feelings (some shouting and crying), anal fingering, anal sex, depression, grief, is anyone telling the truth? 💛 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 💛 posted march 2023 | read on ao3

A knock at Hoseok's office door pulls him from his reverie. He had been staring at a file on his desk for an indeterminable amount of time, letting his focus completely fade to smudges of light and color, ignoring the surveillance footage that plays in an endless stream on the monitor beside him. Hoseok blinks and looks up, finding The Boss peeking her head into the room.

"Is this a bad time?" she asks.

Hoseok shakes his head and reaches to shut off his monitor, then he closes the folder on his desk, sits up in his chair and tugs on the bottom hems of his navy blue blazer to straighten it out. 

"Of course not. Come in."

The Boss wears a mauve pantsuit with the blazer unbuttoned, and a black dress shirt underneath. Her hair is pulled back tight, and whatever she has done with her makeup today gives her a tired look. Or, perhaps, she is actually tired. It has been a long few weeks. 

"I want to discuss something with you," The Boss says as she approaches.

In her hand is a manila folder that Hoseok almost misses until she steps closer and holds it out. She pulls the chair in front of Hoseok's desk out of the way and remains standing, tossing the document on top of the file he has abandoned. If The Boss has a discussion for which she insists on standing, Hoseok expects trouble, and he braces himself as he lifts the folder and opens it. 

"We were able to get our hands on files for both Jeon Jeongguk and Min Yoongi from several databases over the years, and our experts have confirmed that the handwriting on the first and second letters belong to Jeongguk. After running fingerprint analysis, we have verified that only the prints of those two are on both letters. Furthermore, the second letter, which was mailed from Busan, was done so by Min Yoongi, himself. Did he mention leaving town a few weeks back, for any reason?"

Hoseok stares at the file—which he has not actually begun to read—watching the letters fade and sharpen, back and forth as he attempts to get his bearings. Although he wants to protest this information, no part of this surprises him. So they did run, after all. But why?

“How did you determine that—“

“He used a personal debit card to purchase postage. Which suggests he wanted to be discovered, eventually.”

"Yoongi had not mentioned anything," Hoseok responds after a long moment. "In fact, there were no days when one of us did not see him. He must have driven out and come straight back."

"That is a possibility," The Boss responds with an eyebrow raised.

Although she has never mentioned the nature of Namjoon and Hoseok's relationship with Yoongi and Jeongguk, he figures she must at least know there is something. There have been too many opportunities for her to see and hear what goes on between them. 

"I assume the two of them are still technically lost?" Hoseok asks, feeling bile rise to his throat. 

The Boss hums and nods. 

"I am afraid so."

Hoseok racks his mind for any clue as to where they might have gone. But, for the life of him, he cannot seem to come up with anything. The two of them were not exactly secretive, but they were also not open books. Although there was a lot that they would divulge and discuss, they must have been pretty careful not to show too many cards. Hoseok wonders if their disappearing act was part of the plan, all along. 

"There is something else," The Boss says. 

This time, she does take a seat, scooting the chair closer to the desk and setting her hands atop the wooden surface. 

Hoseok braces himself once more. 

"Rumor has it that when Hyunsuk was developing the technology that we use—that we essentially bought from him and attempted to monitor his use of—he was working on a way to keep individuals permanently jumped. In fact, that is the reason I was so insistent on pursuing this case; I wanted to see what we could discover and possibly take the man out before he was successful in his experiments. For years he has evaded us, and only when Jeongguk came along with the case against his own father, did we realize the man had been spending a bulk of his time in Japan."

Only two words from The Boss' spiel stand out to Hoseok: Permanently jumped. 

Hoseok scoffs and shakes his head. In all the years that he has used the technology, there has never been an instance of him not needing to recalibrate, and, as far as he knows, they are working with state-of-the-art technology. The idea that someone could stay permanently jumped seems ridiculous. 

"But jumping permanently is impossible, right?" Hoseok asks. 

To his surprise, The Boss hesitates. In fact, she appears a bit worried.

"If they were able to," The Boss says, leaning forward with her voice low and laced with concern, "where do you think they would have run off to? Surely, they would have told you something?"

Hoseok lets her question settle, then he chuckles and shakes his head. 

"You cannot be not suggesting they have better technology than we have?"

"There is always a chance—" The Boss begins, but Hoseok shakes his head some more and cuts her off. 

"We are the government. With government funding and a research team."

"And Min Hyunsuk is the man who built the tech with his bare hands. There is always the chance that he may have discovered or had access to something that we do not know of."

Ridiculous. This idea is ridiculous, and Hoseok does not want to humor it. If Yoongi and Jeongguk have managed to permanently jump into someone else's bodies, that would mean their former selves have essentially been killed, as there seems to be no trace of them. He cannot live with the possibility of that. Absolutely not. 

"Why would they want to do that?" Hoseok asks, feeling his blood begin to boil, and attempting to breathe slowly to calm his nerves. 

The Boss shrugs. "To evade death? To avoid capture for crimes they may have committed? Who knows."

"But Jeongguk had to come to us for an implant," Hoseok says, thinking about the day in Osaka when he and Jeongguk drank rice wine and opened up to one another. 

When Hoseok asked why he wanted an implant, Jeongguk’s response was a simple raise of an eyebrow, and from there, Hoseok interpreted a plethora of meanings. Perhaps it was right under his nose, he just lacked sufficient information to understand. Perhaps they really were hiding something huge. 

The Boss sighs. 

"Our men will continue to keep their eyes and ears on the ground. They are also working on taking down Jeon Jaebeom. Even without Jeongguk in the mix, he has given us sufficient cause to get his father off the streets and into an urn."

Hoseok nods, thinking once again to the conversation with Jeongguk, about how his objective for hiring them was to get the implant, and that killing his dad would simply be a bonus. Well, hopefully everyone gets what they want in the long run, he supposes. 

These days, when Hoseok returns home, the house is quiet. Often, in the evenings, Namjoon spends time either at work or out with coworkers. Hoseok wonders if Namjoon has been distant because he, too, misses their friends, or if he has just simply been tired of the way Hoseok has been handling things. Namjoon has accused him of needing to move on and has even called him "obsessive" a few times.

Hoseok would not say that he has become obsessive. But he has been going to great lengths to find Yoongi and Jeongguk—lengths which he considers perfectly reasonable when dealing with missing loved ones. He has detectives keeping a watch on CCTV in several Japanese districts—streaming a particular one, himself, while he has downtime at work—and he has tracking software running to notify him if or when Yoongi or Jeongguk make any sort of purchase or if their identification cards and passes are scanned for any reason. He also has detectives keeping watch over any locations where Jeongguk's father may turn up, in case the pair happen to come out of the woodwork and attempt an assassination of their own.

For weeks, it has been dead silent. Unsettlingly so. 

Hoseok has driven past their homes and their family's homes several times, and he has officers stationed to keep watch over all properties. So far, it has been reported that a housekeeper comes each day to look after Jeongguk's father's home, but otherwise, nobody has come in or out of any of the others. 

He would not call any of it obsessive. He would call it caring. He cares for his friends and wishes they would return home safely, and if or when they do, he would like to be one of the first people to know.

And perhaps Hoseok does need to move on, but he struggles to imagine how that is possible when somewhere, likely on a nearby island, his two friends are hiding out. He certainly cannot deny the impact that their disappearance has made on his life—he is not blind to it. Over the last few weeks, Hoseok's personal life has followed more or less the same unsatisfactory cycle.

Hoseok wakes up after Namjoon has left, stands in the shower for a while, gets ready for work, goes to work, attempts to focus on his actual duties and tasks, checks in with the team who are in place to keep a lookout for Yoongi and Jeongguk, comes home, opens a bottle of wine, sits in front of the television, stands in the shower once more—this time to actually wash—and goes to bed. 

When Namjoon finally does come home, Hoseok is typically already in bed, or he is in the shower, getting ready for bed. Sometimes he misses his husband, and the relationship they used to have. But for now, he is just happy to have some time to decompress. The numbness and anxiety tend to be at a constant tug of war, putting him at his wits' end, and Namjoon being at a distance allows for things to at least be somewhat uncomplicated.

Tonight, Hoseok kicks off his shoes, makes his way up the short flight of steps, and moseys straight to the kitchen for a bottle of red. He has begun getting bottles with twist-off tops for convenience and forgoes using a glass. It is not as if anyone will be around to help him drink the wine, anyway. 

However, Hoseok is barely halfway through his cheap red blend when the front door slowly opens and quietly shuts. Hoseok is curled on the corner of the couch, not really watching the drama he has playing on the television, and the sound of feet coming up the steps is so out of the ordinary, he actually feels his heart begin to pound and a discomfort settle over him.

Rather than a greeting from his husband, all Hoseok hears is the clearing of Namjoon's throat. It is a sound he is quite familiar with—somewhere between an attention-seeking throat clear and a nervous throat clear—hesitant at first, becoming a bit louder at the end. Hoseok turns to find Namjoon standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and his lips turned into a frown.

"Just drinking straight from the bottle, these days?" Namjoon asks.

Hoseok might feel ashamed if today was not a day that numbness has taken the wheel. He shrugs. 

"Fewer dishes to worry about."

Namjoon sighs. "There is something I have been meaning to ask you about, but if you're already drunk—"

"I am not drunk," Hoseok responds sharply, twisting further on the couch, with his leg bent beside him so he can get a full view of his husband's disdain. It is true that he feels a bit tipsy along the edges, but it will take a lot more than this to get him drunk. "And anyway, if there is something that you have been so eager to discuss, then why have I hardly seen you in the last couple of weeks?"

Only now, does Hoseok take in Namjoon's full appearance. He has recently colored his hair from chestnut to dark brown, and it is grown out, hanging in his eyes while the back falls past his ears. He wears a tan long-sleeve shirt tucked into brown slacks, and his sleeves are shoved up to his elbows, as if done so in a hurry. Slowly, Namjoon slides his hands into the front pockets of his slacks, and he shifts where he stands.

"Well, for one thing," Namjoon begins, voice coming out downcast and a little unsure, "I have been dreading this."

Hoseok raises his eyebrows, unsure of what this means, exactly.

"This...defensiveness," Namjoon continues. "This...I don't know. Things are just strained and weird. You're grieving Yoongi and Jeongguk as if they are dead—" Hoseok rolls his eyes and turns back to the television, giving Namjoon his back, "—and it is not fair to me, Seok."

"Not fair to you," Hoseok mumbles under his breath. "Am I not allowed to grieve? A loss is still a loss; should I not be allowed to be sad?"

"Be sad, but…I don't know..." Namjoon trails off, and Hoseok turns his head, simultaneously wanting to look at him and not wanting to. "I just miss my husband," he finally says, eyes on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Hoseok mutters, despite hardly feeling anything at all. 

Namjoon's feelings are completely valid, and Hoseok is aware of the rift that has come between them. He is willing to admit much of the fault is his own, watching as Namjoon slowly began to pull back weeks ago, until they were barely touching or speaking at all. 

But how is he supposed to reconcile that Yoongi, Jeongguk, and, in a sense, Namjoon are suddenly gone? How can he sit peacefully on his cozy, brown leather couch and admit that his entire life is coming to a screeching halt?

"As I said...I have something that I would like to discuss with you," Namjoon says. "I guess now is as good of a time as any."

Namjoon rounds the couches, reaches for the remote, which sits on the table just before Hoseok, and shuts the television off. Then he sits on the smaller of the two couches, perpendicular to Hoseok, with his elbows resting above his knees. 

"The Boss said something several weeks ago that I haven't been able to get out of my head," Namjoon confesses as he stares ahead at their reclaimed wooden table.

Hoseok's heart sinks, catching thorns on its way down. He knows exactly where this is going. He noticed the moment Namjoon figured it out—noticed the complete and total shift in his behavior. Somewhere in the recess of his mind, he has been dreading this conversation—hoping, even, that Namjoon may have forgotten. 

There are so many thoughts that Hoseok has all at once, looking for excuses for that second day they all spent in Osaka, months ago. But he knows that once Namjoon puts it out there, the only thing he will be able to respond with is the truth.

"You and Jeongguk jumped the day you met with their fathers," Namjoon says as he continues to stare ahead, tapping one of his fingers against his lip. "The day Yoongi and I went to the museums and then met up with you two, to drink wine and walk around the gardens."

"I remember," Hoseok mutters, feeling his body go cold.

A long pause fills the room with a thick, palpable tension. Then, Namjoon finally asks, "Why didn't you tell me?" and Hoseok has the overwhelming urge to sink into the couch until he disappears entirely. 

"Tell you?" he tries, knowing that he is playing with fire. 

Namjoon sighs once more and rubs his palms over his eyes, then he drops his arms to his knees, sitting slouched over. He twists his head and scans his eyes over Hoseok’s face. 

“When did the two of you jump back?”

Hoseok’s mouth hovers over consonants but he stumbles before saying, “Namjoon—“

“At the time, I was just so excited to be together in Japan, sharing new experiences with new friends, that I didn’t notice it. But when the realization hit, it was all so clear.”

Back and forth, Namjoon’s eyes search Hoseok's face. The more his thoughts appear to build, the further Hoseok wishes to sink. 

“Did you coach Jeongguk on how I like to fuck?”

Hoseok croaks out, “Namjoon!” desperate to argue, but he has nothing. Tears well in his eyes, his voice wobbles around the syllables, and he is unable to say another word. 

“He did a good job tugging on my hair and getting me into the perfect mindset to ride your cock like an eager little pet. Said a lot of filthy shit that I was surprised to hear come out of your mouth, but, then again, I surprised us both with the daddy kink, so I guess perhaps I was more willing to be fooled.”

Anger paints Namjoon’s face, and Hoseok chokes on a sob, feeling his heart pound so hard it makes him nauseous. Namjoon takes a deep, slow breath, letting out a long, shaky exhale. 

“Do you remember when Jeongguk came to us in Yoongi’s body, about a month ago?”

Hoseok nods his head as hot tears pour down his face; how could he forget? 

“Do you remember what he said that night? What he said to you over the phone?”

As if all the air has been sucked from the room, Hoseok finds it impossible to breathe, hugging his arms around himself tightly. 

“Why is it always him?” Hoseok croaks, barely audible enough to carry the short distance between them. 

But Namjoon does hear him, and he nods. 

“Why, Hoseok?” he asks softly. 

Hoseok shakes his head as the tears stream down, muttering, “It’s not. Namjoon, it’s not—“

Namjoon stands, slamming his palms onto the table as he shouts, “Why is it always fucking him, Hoseok?”

Shock and fear rock through Hoseok, and he gasps, folding in on himself against the soft leather that whines beneath him. His ears begin to ring and the pounding of his heart is dizzying.

“It’s not—“ Hoseok tries, all the while Namjoon shakes his head and towers over Hoseok with his fists clenched and shaking. 

Although he does not fear that his husband would physically harm him, it is simply the sight of him this angry that sends fear quaking through Hoseok. Fear of losing Namjoon. Fear of knowing how badly Namjoon must be hurt. 

“Do you love him more than you love me?” Namjoon asks, voice softer and far more sullen. 

“No,” Hoseok sobs, shaking his head. “Never.”

And he means it. Despite the gravitational pull he has felt since the day he met Yoongi, it has often felt more like an obsession than a place to call home. Despite how everything evolved between the four of them, Hoseok has never forgotten about how it all began with deceit. 

“How do I know that?” Namjoon asks. 

A sharp, loud sob rips through Hoseok, and he squeezes his arms around himself impossibly tighter, heaving for air. 

“I don’t know,” he responds, pathetically. “I don’t know how to prove something like that.”

“They left and you’ve become a shell of a man,” Namjoon spits, anger returning. “I want my husband back! The two of them left and they took you with them!”

Unable to do anything but cry, Hoseok does just that. Namjoon stands a moment longer, and Hoseok closes his eyes and allows the pain and frustration to wash over him. He deserves this. He knows he deserves this and he does not beg for mercy. 

“Who’s idea was it?” Namjoon finally asks after several minutes have passed and Hoseok’s sobs whither to become deep, shattered inhales and exhales. 

“Jeongguk’s idea,” he whimpers.

“Jeongguk wanted to fuck you?”

Hoseok scoffs—mirthless and heavy. 

“Jeongguk wanted to fuck you.”

“And when you first met Yoongi,” Namjoon continues, “what happened?”

“I t-told you,” Hoseok stammers, suddenly feeling cold. 

“You told me Yoongi kissed you, while you were in Jeongguk’s body. What else?”

With a sigh, Hoseok sits up. He may as well be honest, for once. 

“He wanted to get me into bed and I feigned being sick, so he insisted on running a bath and doting on me. I went along with it, not realizing he would want to get into the bath, too.”

“Of course he would,” Namjoon grumbles, sitting back onto the couch with force and leaning forward to snatch Hoseok’s bottle of wine, taking a long pull, then clenching it tight in his fist.

“The Boss dialed me for nausea and made me vomit. It was…honestly pretty wild; I had no idea she could do that. So I vomited, and Yoongi helped me out of the tub and into bed. He fell asleep, and The Boss pulled me out.”

“That’s all?”

Hoseok nods in quick, shallow bursts. 

“That’s all.”

“And by then, did you have feelings for him?”

Hoseok shrugs. He is unsure when the feelings began, at this point. Everything feels like a blur. 

“I suppose I may have, but I don’t really remember. I don’t think I saw him again until Jeongguk suggested we all meet, and the four of us went to dinner.”

“And everything was Jeongguk’s idea?”

Hoseok nods.

"And at the dinner, you went into that situation knowing that Jeongguk was sizing me up and showing you off to his pretty little boyfriend."

"Yes," Hoseok mutters as he hangs his head. 

More tears stream, hot and thick, but Hoseok feels more numb than sad, powerless to do anything but let them simply fall.

“He was always in control," Hoseok says through a hiccup. "Even in Osaka, I tried to get our men to pull me out—to switch bodies. But they only took Jeongguk’s orders. I never sorted out why, actually.”

Hoseok had been so caught in the whirlwind, he never bothered to investigate, and now that he considers it, it is pretty fucking weird. How much influence have the Mins and Jeons had over The Boss' team? Was it something Yoongi and Jeongguk could have set up ahead of time?

“You’ve just been passively letting these men control your life,” Namjoon responds with a bitter tone beneath his words.

The accusation hurts, reminding him of months ago when Jeongguk essentially said the same thing. But there is no denying it—no other way to put it, really. In essence that is precisely what happened. If asked why Hoseok allowed it, he is not certain he would have an answer; he simply felt swept up and blown away. 

“It’s just so unlike you,” Namjoon mutters, running one hand through his outgrown hair while he takes another drink from the bottle of wine. His voice sounds sad, almost defeated. “It’s…it’s difficult to reconcile, Seok.”

Hoseok hums and nods. He agrees. 

Again, Namjoon drinks. Then he sighs, leans, and hands the bottle over. Hoseok hesitates, studies his husband’s beautiful frowning face, and accepts the bottle. Rather than drink from it, he holds it in his grip, cradling it with his other hand. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Namjoon mutters, still partially leaning toward Hoseok. “Where do we go from here?”

Emotion bubbles heavily, spilling once more in the form of a sob before Hoseok can stop it. “Do you still love me?” he asks, pathetically. 

“Of course I still love you,” Namjoon responds without hesitation, biting through his words as if it pains him to have to say it at all. 

“I never loved them more,” Hoseok insists, pulling the bottle to his lips. He stops before taking a drink, letting the warm glass rest against his skin. “The guilt I have felt has been suffocating. And yet, it was not enough to warrant a confession. I feel so stupid. I feel unworthy of your forgiveness. I don’t know what to do. I was just...scared, Joon. I was so fucking scared.”

With a sigh, Namjoon slowly stands, pressing his palms into the cushion as if he requires assistance to make himself move. He does not even stand all the way—leans forward as he twists and plops back down, taking up the empty space beside Hoseok and instantly filling it with warmth. 

“I don’t want to hate you,” Namjoon says softly, warranting Hoseok to drink. “I feel hurt and confused, mostly because you…you never had to lie. I went along willingly. I liked them, too. We could have just talked about it.”

Hoseok nods, gripping the wine bottle tightly, only loosening his hold when Namjoon pries it from his hand. More than half of the dark, bittersweet contents of the bottle are gone, and they slosh with each sip. 

“I’m at your mercy,” Hoseok utters softly, pulling his knees to his chest and feeling the soft material of his black slacks beneath his fingers. 

With a chuckle, Namjoon passes the bottle back, then he wraps an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders, pulling him close. The sound of laughter is so jarring, pushing Hoseok's emotions to and fro, and he has no choice but to settle into Namjoon's side. 

“We can move forward from this,” Namjoon states, giving Hoseok’s shoulder a squeeze. “As much as I have let all of this move around in my head, trying to make sense of everything, there has never been a point where I have thought you had malicious intent. I never thought you wanted to hurt me. You have hurt me…and that is something we will have to work on…but I think we can. I want us to. Now that you have been honest with me, I want us to figure this out.”

“I miss you,” Hoseok confesses, leaning further into Namjoon’s side. “I miss you more than I miss them.”

Namjoon hums and hugs Hoseok close, leaving a soft kiss on his temple.

“Once we are to the point where we can laugh at all of this, I have a lot of questions.”

Hoseok cracks a smile and nods, then takes one more drink from the wine. He likes the idea of being so far removed from how he feels now that he will be able to speak about it more freely. He likes the idea of reminiscing about them.

The sound of Hoseok's office phone ringing makes him jump. He has been staring at a CCTV feed long enough that when he looks away from his monitor, the lighting of his office seems a bit off—a little too yellow, and somewhat too bright. He blinks heavily and spins his office chair around, reaching for the phone.

"This is Jung."

"Hoseok-ssi," The Boss responds, "Mister Kim is here and he would like to speak with you about his file. Do you have time to discuss it with him?"

Hoseok glances up in time to find a very tall, broad man in a black suit approach his door and meet his eye through the glass wall. With a soft smile, the man raises his hand to wave, and Hoseok somewhat limply raises two fingers. 

"And you mentioned that you wanted me to turn him down?" Hoseok asks The Boss, doing his best not to move his lips too much, in an attempt to have his words remain undetected. 

"Correct," The Boss responds curtly, and Hoseok lets out a sigh. 

"And now that he has come to the office to meet with me—" Hoseok begins, but The Boss cuts him off.

"We will begin running a more thorough background check, that is correct. His waiver has been signed and left with the receptionist."

"Anything else?" Hoseok asks, glancing at the man, who appears to be checking his watch.

"That is all," The Boss responds before hanging up the call. 

Hoseok clears his throat, sets his phone on the receiver, and stands. With a fortifying breath, he rubs his hands down his charcoal slacks, then walks to the door. Although it is unlocked, he does not want to give Mister Kim the idea that he should be turning that knob for any reason. 

"Mister Kim," Hoseok says with a forced smile as he bows his head and reaches to shake his guest's hand.

"Please," the man responds, "call me Seokjin."

Seokjin's voice is a pleasant, confident tenor, spoken softly as he introduces himself. His short, dark brown hair is coiffed off his forehead, and he has a firm, set jaw with sharp features, and expressive almond eyes. He is quite handsome, and Hoseok thinks, for a split moment, that he has a tiny resemblance to Jeongguk before rapidly blinking the errant thought away.

"Seokjin-ssi," Hoseok says, bowing his head once more and taking a step back, motioning for Seokjin to enter the room. 

Seokjin steps in and pauses, possibly for instruction, while Hoseok closes his door and makes his way back to his seat. Realizing he had kept the CCTV stream active as he rounds his desk, Hoseok quickly leans and shuts off his monitor, then glances back toward the window where his refreshments table is, realizing he never offered Seokjin anything. He removed the whiskey a couple weeks ago, when it became too tempting to drink while alone at work, but there is a carafe of somewhat fresh, albeit tepid, water. 

"Can I offer you some water?" Hoseok asks as he straightens out the items on his desk, making certain that papers are snug within their folders, and nothing is hanging out to be read. 

Ordinarily, Hoseok is far more organized when meeting with someone for the first time, and he feels out of sorts from having paperwork strewn about. Seokjin does not seem to mind, and he gives a slight shake of his head as he pulls the chair out from in front of Hoseok's desk and has a seat, muttering, "No need, thank you."

Hoseok has a seat in his leather chair, gathers the folders on his desk and slides open the file drawer, which he has kept unlocked, shoving them inside. Then he finds Seokjin's case and pulls the folder out. Although he has no reason to, he feels compelled to apologize for his conduct.

"Please forgive me, Seokjin-ssi," Hoseok says as he sits up and places Seokjin's file on his desk. "I have a case that has me feeling a bit exhausted, so I am ill-prepared for a meeting."

Seokjin raises his eyebrows in concern and parts his lips, which Hoseok thinks are quite full and very pretty. 

"Is there a better time?" he asks softly.

"No, no," Hoseok responds, sitting straighter and scooting closer to his desk. "Now is just as great of a time as any."

Seokjin nods and places his hands on his lap, sitting up straight. Hoseok opens the file and glances at the only page he had bothered to read, which is his application that describes the nature of the job. Although the instruction he was given was to read through the file carefully and consider his thoughts on the job, he has been rather distracted, lately, and has not taken time to think about it.

Hoseok turns the first page and finds a photograph attached to the following one, with a paperclip. He yanks the photo free, holds it up, and studies the subjects. Funny enough, Hoseok's first thought is that the pair of them reminds him a little of his missing friends. 

Two men stand in the middle of what looks like a crowded shopping center. They are the only subjects in focus; everyone surrounding them has been blurred out. The taller of the two appears to have chestnut-brown hair, wearing an oversized, white, short-sleeve button-up shirt tucked into loose, brown slacks, and his build somewhat resembles Jeongguk's—perhaps a little less muscular, but it is hard to tell. The shorter of the two has a black, short-sleeve button-up shirt untucked over tight black jeans, his hair is lightened to a silver-blond, and his build resembles Yoongi's, though his shoulders are, perhaps, not as broad. Both men wear sunglasses, and they appear to be studying a map. 

"These two men are your targets?" Hoseok asks, glancing at Seokjin, who watches him. 

Seokjin blinks slowly and says, "That is correct."

"Their crimes..." Hoseok trails off, rereading the first page of the file. "Forgive me; I read this over when it first came across my desk, but..." he trails off once more, picking out details on the page.

"But you have an exhausting case that has been demanding your attention," Seokjin responds. "I understand."

Hoseok hums in response, then glances up. 

"You state here that these men are suspected spies, who are alleged to have committed multiple murders, have a connection to a drug ring, and have fled the country."

"That is correct," Seokjin responds. 

"And you are a member of the special forces, I see. You work in Busan, primarily."

"Correct."

Ordinarily, when Hoseok addresses an officer, they will state their position and rank, even if it is repeated information. It helps to determine the level of honorifics one may use to address one another, and it is simply polite to do in this line of work. Seokjin omitting that information, despite Hoseok having the paperwork in his hands, strikes him as odd. He places the photograph down and straightens his posture, resting his hands over Seokjin's file and linking his fingers together. 

"And, as a member of the special forces," Hoseok continues, "you are aware that we need more than alleged and suspected evidence, correct?"

Seokjin shifts in his seat, and Hoseok notices a tick in the corner of his mouth, on the right side. 

"I am aware," he responds simply.

"If you can provide some hard evidence that supports the claims in this document, we will be happy to look further into this case. As it stands now, I am going to have to decline moving forward."

"Sir—" Seokjin begins, but Hoseok stands, straightening out his jacket. 

"I trust you will be able to find your way out."

"Sir," Seokjin says simply, standing while bowing his head before turning to make his way back to the door. 

Hoseok slowly rounds his desk, then leans on the edge with his arms crossed over his chest. There is something about the way Seokjin carries himself that tells Hoseok he is not who he says he is, but without a proper background check, he struggles to put his finger on it. Although he speaks like an agent, something in his posture—in the way his shoulders seem to slump forward even when he stands up straight—reminds Hoseok of a hardened criminal.

Just as he reaches for the handle, Seokjin turns, fixing Hoseok with a sharp glance. There is something in his gaze that Hoseok cannot discern, causing a chill to run down his spine. 

"You will want to look into these two," Seokjin calls, putting emphasis on you. "The sooner, the better."

A sharp tinge of anxiety hits Hoseok, and he takes a deep, slow breath, doing his best to show no reaction. As he waits for Seokjin to either continue or exit, the seconds that pass feel heavy and charged—thick with something that is faintly electric, buzzing all around him. 

"Is that all?" Hoseok finally asks with a cock of his head. 

Seokjin nods, quick, shallow movements. He turns to the door, then turns back to Hoseok as if he may have something to say before swallowing and making his exit, closing the door slowly behind himself. As Seokjin's back retreats, Hoseok's phone rings. 

Hoseok picks up the phone receiver, eyes still glued to the space Seokjin once occupied, and he holds it to his ear, muttering, "Jung."

"I see he has returned to the hallway. Is he leaving?" The Boss asks, skipping pleasantries. 

Hoseok continues to stare out into the empty hallway. "He is."

"We are still working on his background check, but we have confirmed that he does not work for a bureau in Busan."

"I had a feeling," Hoseok responds, gaining no relief from this information. 

Why, then, did Seokjin bring this case to him? Seokjin had to know that he would only get so far until they found out he was not who he said he was. And to come all the way here, to sit at Hoseok's desk and attempt to persuade him in person, well...Hoseok has to admit, the man is quite bold. 

Hoseok rounds his desk and has a seat, then he closes the file and shoves it aside. With a sigh, he turns back to his monitor and clicks it on, and it only takes a matter of seconds for Hoseok to zone out completely, with his eyes glued to the feed. 

Citizens amble back and forth from time to time, and he never sees anyone who resembles the people he hopes to see. He knows he should stop watching the feed and get on with his life. He knows that the way he is handling this situation is not healthy. At least he manages to close the feed and return home at a respectable enough time.

Namjoon comes home shortly after Hoseok does, much to his surprise. He appears tired as he reaches the top landing to find Hoseok on the couch—without a bottle of wine, this time—only offering a small smile before making his way up to the second-floor bedroom. It is not much, but Hoseok cherishes it. He can work with a soft smile. 

After only a few minutes, Hoseok gets to his feet and shuffles in the direction of his husband. Even if Namjoon is feeling distant, he just wants to be in his orbit. At least, in the same room. 

When he reaches the top of the stairs and enters the bedroom, Namjoon is standing in his briefs, with his pants pooled around his ankles, stepping from the fabric and bending to pick it up. 

"Gonna shower?" Hoseok asks, leaving some space between them as he begins to undo the buttons of his work shirt. He had left his blazer draped over the back of the couch.

"Join me?" Namjoon asks softly, taking Hoseok by surprise. His eyes are wide and a little sad, almost pleading as he waits for Hoseok's response, which is a smile and a nod before he can find his voice to say, "Of course."

Namjoon enters the bathroom first, and Hoseok continues to unbutton his shirt and shrug it away, letting it fall in the general area of the hamper as he holds his arm out and flicks it in that direction. The sound of the shower turning on can be heard, and Hoseok nibbles the inside of his lips as his fingertips make slow, shaky work of opening his slacks. 

Before Hoseok can finish, Namjoon returns, gently shoving Hoseok's hands away and unzipping his slacks for him. He pushes the fabric past Hoseok's hips, and Hoseok gathers the bottom hem of his undershirt, pulling it over his head while stepping from the pants that Namjoon has let fall to the floor. 

"Missed you," Namjoon mutters as his fingertips graze up Hoseok's hips, a featherlight touch ghosting over his scar.

"Missed you too," Hoseok responds as he tosses his shirt aside and Namjoon pulls him close, almost forcefully against his body while steam begins to pour out through the open bathroom door. 

Namjoon's hands wander along Hoseok's back, down to his ass, and up, squeezing gently and causing arousal to lick on the edges of all of his senses. 

"Are you sure?" Hoseok asks, hesitant because of everything he has done to hurt Namjoon—unsure whether he deserves to be touched like this. 

"Need you," Namjoon groans, burying his face into Hoseok's neck and nipping at his skin. "Please."

Hoseok nods and leads his husband into the bathroom, slotting their fingers together and tugging him along. They begin innocently enough, dropping their briefs to the bathroom floor mat and ignoring their hardening cocks long enough for Hoseok to lather up a cloth and wash Namjoon's pretty, golden skin. They take turns slathering and rinsing each other's hair, giggling softly, as if nothing had ever caused a rift between them, and Hoseok revels in the domestic bliss. Tender and sweet.

Namjoon groans and whimpers as soon as Hoseok has him spun around and pressed into the tile wall. He takes his time fingering him open, nipping at his shoulder, and telling him how pretty he is—how good he feels. Eager to show Namjoon just how sorry he is, he pulls him apart just with his fingers first, massaging his prostate as Namjoon sprays his release on the wall, making him come untouched and praising him for being so perfect.

"How do you want me?" Hoseok groans into Namjoon's neck while his fingers continue to slowly press in and pull out. 

"On the bed," Namjoon sobs, trembling as his hands attempt to grip against the hard, wet wall. 

"On the bed how, baby?"

"On my knees. Need it deep. Need it to hurt."

A tinge of guilt hits Hoseok as he slides his fingers slowly from his husband's tight, eager ass. He has already done so much to hurt Namjoon. He wonders if the pain will just be a way for Namjoon to cope with everything; if he is still just as broken and tarnished as Hoseok feels. 

But Hoseok gives Namjoon exactly what he wants. He shuts off the shower, quickly towels off, then takes his time getting as much water from Namjoon's hair and skin as he can before leading him to their bed. Namjoon practically throws himself to the mattress, scrambling to his hands and knees and presenting himself so perfectly while Hoseok grabs the bottle of lube and slathers a generous amount onto his cock. 

The tight squeeze of Namjoon's inner muscles works in tandem with the vines that wrap around Hoseok's lungs, robbing him of his oxygen. Tears rise to his eyes as he slides himself deep into Namjoon's hole, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of his hips as he gives the two of them a moment to catch their breath. He hardly hears Namjoon's whimpered sobs over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, threatening to burst. 

Not until Namjoon mutters, "Please, daddy. Please make it hurt." 

Only then does Hoseok come crashing back to reality, overcome with emotion and eager to perform—eager to do absolutely anything Namjoon wants him to, even if it tugs at his heart.

Against his better judgment, Hoseok calls Seokjin during his lunch break. Although there is something off about him—something the man is not telling him—Jimin and Taehyung keep nipping at his mind, and he does not want The Boss to know that he is continuing to dig. 

"This is Kim," Seokjin greets as he answers the call, voice much deeper than Hoseok remembers.

"Seokjin-ssi," Hoseok begins, glancing around the mostly empty park as he slings one leg over the other, attempting to settle onto the cold, wooden bench. "This is Jung Hoseok. We spoke at my office yesterday."

"Ah," Seokjin responds, voice returning to the lighter, more familiar tone. "Hoseok-ssi, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Do you have more on the targets? Video surveillance or photographs? Information on where they might be, now?"

"Last we knew, they were in a port city near Perth. I can send over what little we have by way of surveillance."

"And do you know if they left Korea to get to Australia?"

It is a long shot. Hoseok knows it is a long shot, but he cannot help but ask. Something in his gut tells him that these men are not who they say they are. Something tells him that they are the men Hoseok seeks.

Seokjin hums, then says, "Why no, sir. They flew out from Fukuoka."

Hoseok's lips form around, "Fu," and he freezes, stiff and still as if a bucket of ice had been dropped from his head. 

"Fukuoka...Japan," he finally mutters, eyes becoming cloudy with tears.

"That is correct," Seokjin responds matter-of-factly. "I have been working with a friend to gather the information you requested yesterday—evidence of their alleged and supposed crimes. I can send you everything I have on them within the hour. I…assume you ran the full background check on me yesterday, after I signed the waiver?"

"Y-yes," Hoseok responds. "We tend to wait until we are eager to move forward with a case. The process is expensive."

"Hmm, even for the government," Seokjin responds in a somewhat mocking tone, causing hairs to stand on the back of Hoseok's neck. "Well, then, I suppose this will be the last time I hear from you. I can't imagine your boss will want you conversing with the likes of me."

Dumbfounded, Hoseok stares ahead, unsure what to say.

"I will send over everything I have on those two right away. See that she does not intercept it. Good luck on your search."

Hoseok swallows a lump and blinks heavily, attempting to bring the world back into view. Yellowed leaves fall from nearby trees and the chill on the wind sinks through Hoseok's pores, down to his bones. 

"Thank you," he says, voice weak with an audible tremble. Hoseok clears his throat, steadying himself to say, "I will look forward to your correspondence," before dropping his hand to his lap and ending the call. 

🥺now that i am so close to the end, this fic has been getting more and more difficult to write. i don't want to be dramatic! and make anyone fear for the worst/for the end! but....it's been over a year with these characters and i love them very much.

theories? only two chapters left! how are we feeling???

until next time! 💛

please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators!

tag list: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @mgthecat​ @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki✨ comment or dm to be added to the tag list!

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Dollhouse is copyright 2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[jjungkookislife]

Envolver Ch. 2: Teaser

pairing: namseok x f. reader, yoonjin x f. reader

genre: fwb to lovers, polyam au, smut [18+]

wc: tba

warnings for teaser: alcohol use/mention, implied smut

date of teaser: February 27, 2024

release date: March 3, 2024 @ 3pm CST

Namjoon was clad in a hot pink outfit with the sleeves cut off and a pink cowboy hat on his head. The buckle was sparkly as the lights reflected off it and he shook his ass in those jeans. 

Wow!

Beside him, Hoseok is in a silver outfit with the tassels moving with him. The pants cling to his delicious thighs and he uses his hat to hide his eyes, swinging his hips from side to side as the crowd screams his name. Hoseok chuckles, taking the hat off and pressing it to his chest as he and Namjoon shake their ass to the song. 

You’re not even sure what the song is about as they smile brightly, flexing their arms and shaking their hips as the song nears its end. 

“Got you drooling already, love?” Seokjin asks as he walks up behind you. 

“Uh…” you tear your eyes away from Namjoon long enough to acknowledge Seokjin, who chuckles and has you face the bar. 

Hoseok bows as the song ends and Namjoon hops off the bar to collect the tips while Hoseok makes a few drinks, flirting with a few customers who are eager to place tips in the pocket of his shirt or the back pocket of his pants. 

'A little taste for the fans' is what he usually says but you don’t care because all those tips are spent on you and your almost boyfriends. 

“Jin!” the server calls from the bar, waving him over to help with the growing crowd of parched customers.

“Duty calls, baby,” Seokjin kisses you hastily as he parts the crowd with his wide shoulders. You nearly drool over them, wishing you could take him to the locker room again.

read part one here

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #51] Space

warnings: okay this one is like.. a lot. Return of the ajummas, very very very cute date night waaaaa, kook is just the cutest at the start of this one :(, a little under the stars smut (starluvrs doing what they do best!!) oral (m), rimming (m), doggy, lovely stuff! An attempt at communication….a fail at communication…. Oh no! Arguments :( friends to the rescue!!! Namseok say hi! Enter stage left: the red witch, dionysus!, the most iconic ‘chess’ of the entire story, waaaa

notes: i just love how the bd headers are like lil time capsules of what was happening at the time I was writing hehe. this one is just over 25k, sorryyy!! only 2 chapters tonight but 35k worth!! and a massive plot moment hehe

wc: 25K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

The air in May is lighter. Free of the frigid spring temperatures, summer is on the precipice, with a warmth you've not felt for quite some time.

Though you attribute it to the ever-changing seasons, you know that this warmth would be wrapped around you regardless of the time of year – for you're wearing Jeongguk's shirt. The scent of his aftershave lingers, and each subtle wave of the aroma feels like a small kiss to your cheek; a reminder of what you are. Who he is to you.

"So he's your boyfriend?" Minsu, one of the elderly ladies adorned in floral print gilets, sitting on their usual bench outside the CU, asks.

"Well," you inhale a little air between your teeth. "Not exactly."

There are a few groans of disbelief, heads shaking.

"Kids these days."

"Why would he not be your boyfriend?"

"Because!" you laugh, thinking that the word alone is enough of answer, but knowing they'll never accept it. "It's not that simple. There are rules and expectations and-"

"Excuses! Excuses!" Minsu makes sure to interject.

And perhaps they're right. Perhaps these are thinly veiled excuses for Jeongguk, because you don't want him to lose favour. Don't want anyone to think negatively of him.

They've been listening to you babble on about Jeongguk for the past half an hour, having caught you on a convenience store run. You'd only gone to pick up a snack. Are dressed down in one of his shirts and a pair of leggings. Didn't intend on seeing anyone – but the second they clocked you, you knew you'd be busy for the better part of an hour. The silver chain around your neck is hidden between the cotton of the shirt, your bird resting prettily just above your heart. Right where it belongs. 

Occasionally, you reach up to twiddle with it a little absentmindedly.

Though she doesn't mention it, Minsu notices how you touch it whenever your replies get a little scattered. Anxious. You're self-soothing, or so it would appear – and using your most prominent reminder of him to do so.

"Not excuses," you insist, a sweet smile on your face. You're not taking their criticisms too seriously, and you know they mean well so why worry about it? If anything, perhaps it's good to hear outside opinions away from your friends. "I just... well, I want him to ask. I don't wanna be the one to do it."

The thing is, their criticisms come from experience. They've given you advice in regards to Jeongguk before, which had proven to be worthwhile. Identified times in which he was being a big old baby, and told you to hold off being reactive – and they were right to do so. You trust their judgement far better than you trust your own.

And so, the next critique makes you feel all out of sync and uneasy.

"Okay," Jinnae, the most vocal of the group accepts, but then poses a question that will haunt you all week. Will keep you up at night. Have you wondering the exact same thing. "So why hasn't he asked?"

Days without you are hard, or so Jeongguk finds in the week that follows Yoongi's wedding celebrations.

Busy covering shifts that you'd swapped with colleagues in order to keep the wedding weekend empty in your schedule, you've barely had a second to yourself, let alone to spend on Jeongguk.

And either way, it's not like he's been around.

Ring bearer isn't the only recently acquired title of his. He's a house sitter, now, too. Or a cat sitter, whichever you choose to believe needs more looking after while Yoongi and Seoyeon are on their Honeymoon. Japan, then Jeju. Nothing too extravagant or far from home, but far enough that they can forget their lives back home for a little while.

Everyone they meet while on their vacation will only ever know them as a married couple. That's their life now. Forever identifiable as the husband or wife of someone else – and that's precisely how they'd like their lives to be.

Jeongguk envies them, in a way. Desperately wishes his journey to finding a love like that could have been simple. Is embarrassed, in a way, over how long he spent chasing a love that never was. Likes to pretend he lives without regret, but he's got a few – none more so than Hayun. Or at least, how he behaved when she came back into the picture.

Because the regret really isn't about her; it's about you, and how he treated you. Knows he could have done better. Wishes he had.

While the past can't be changed, he likes to think the future isn't pre-destined. Doesn't know much about the stars, but if they have fated him to live this way, he hopes it's not without purpose.

In the city, the sky never gets dark. Not really. Lights of the night markets and neons of the party district keep the place you call home illuminated until the sun rises. Peace and quiet is reserved for the sticks; the area outside of the ancient city walls that once would have belonged to farmers, or those ostracised from high society.

These days, there's a price that comes with country living. You need money if you want the freedom of a slow life while still having access to the city. Thankfully, Yoongi's made a reputable name for himself, and Seoyeon's been equally steady in her career. Good financial decisions have been their strong point for years, and is why they can afford the life they live.

As Jeongguk lays on his back in the Min's living room, a purry Oduun perched prettily on his sternum, he wonders if he'll ever be able to afford such freedom.

Lips pursed, eyes hard, he loses track of how long he wastes pondering it all. His job, his degree, if it was a waste or not, how the fuck he's gonna find another location for the restaurant - if the restaurant is even viable for him, now.

He's not much one for fate. Thinks that if you want something, you have to work hard for it - but damn it , he did work hard, and he still lost.

He thinks of you. How close he came to losing you. Knows that if were to ever lose you, properly, then that would be it. He'd simply lose passion for everything and anything. Thinks without you, his heart would burn out, and then what use is he to anyone?

What use is the nights sky without stars to guide wayward travellers? The moon without a sun?

With a sigh that's so hearty Oduun jumps off him, Jeongguk reaches for his phone. Finds the standard chain of notifications, and a couple of messages from you. Just forwarded videos in your shared DMs, nothing big. The fact that you've been sending him anything at all must mean that work is slow - and is only confirmed when he gets another message pinging through.

You: closing up early x

Just gone nine, it really is early, but if the books are empty and you don't anticipate any walk-ins on weekdays, you have the green light to shut up shop.

He doesn't really give it much thought as he presses the little telephone icon in the corner of your chat. Puts you on speaker, and places his phone down on his chest where Oduun once was.

"Yep?" You answer after only a couple dial tones.

"Two options," Jeongguk states, a smile on his lips thanks to the fact you answered. "Option one: You get the last bus up to Yoongi's neighbourhood, and while you're on the bus, I'll cook dinner. Or, option two: I drive down now and pick you up, and we get takeout on the way back up."

"Are you allowed guests?" You hum through the phone, as if his offers aren't making you feel all giddy inside. If this were to be a video call, you would have angled the camera away from your face, just so he wouldn't be able to see how broad your smile is.

"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission," he grins - but he does have permission. Yoongi had already cleared it - and you know this, because Seoyeon had been sure to send you a message explaining the alarm system, and a couple emergency numbers for while they were away. Your presence wasn't just allowed, it was expected.

"Sounds like trouble waiting to happen."

"You know I like trouble," he purrs. You can picture the serene smile on his pretty lips as he says it, the subtle smirk you're just dying to kiss once more.

"Alright," you say softly. There's a smaller clatter in the background, sounds of you cleaning up the café for the day accenting your words. "I'll go home and grab some things, then get the bus."

"Sure?"

"Sure," you say. "Makes no sense having you drive all the way down."

"I don't mind," he insists, but you shake your head as if he can see.

"It's fine - plus you never cook, and yet you're always bragging about how good you are. Time to put you to the test."

"Alright," he grins down the phone. "You're on."

"It's a date. See you later, Gguk."

"Yeah," he says softly, serenity in his weightless words. "It's a date. See you later, B."

As the line goes dead, and Jeongguk is left to his own thoughts, the smile etched into his lips doesn't face. In fact, there's a buzz akin to a real-life bee in his chest. A bee because of his B. Checks out.

"Ugh," he groans out. Looks across to the midnight black kitty curled up on the sofa. "What are we gonna do, boy?"

Though he knows it was just a turn of phrase, Jeongguk thinks that perhaps tonight really should be a date.

It's been a while since your last one, through no fault of anyone, and he's been holding out until the fifth date to properly make things official. Knows that you both catastrophically failed at the no hooking up thing, and reckons that you should at least have something to celebrate the milestone. Thinks that perhaps it would be apt. A 'normal' thing to happen after a fifth date.

Nothing about you and Jeongguk has ever been remotely normal, and so he wants to give you something that is.

It'll take you just over an hour to reach Yoongi's place if you get the subway then switch over to the bus, but Jeongguk reckons you'll probably get the direct route given the fact you hadn't mentioned the subway at all. Though it's easier, because there are no changes, it does take an extra twenty minutes. Add a little extra clean down time, and the fact you need to run home first, he thinks he's got a safe two hours until you arrive.

Already dark, it'll only be darker by the time you arrive – and it's when he's thinking about the fact he should walk to meet you from the bus stop, that an idea hatches.

"Oh, you genius, Oduun," he exclaims, as if the cat telepathically gave him some sort of direction. Getting to his feet, Jeongguk reaches for his car keys. "You'll be okay here, won't you, boy? Uncle Ggukie's only gonna be twenty minutes. I'll pick you up a treat!"

Ten minutes north of Yoongi's place is a small town. It's still technically within the city boundary, but you'd never think of it as being so. There's not much there – a few schools and a couple hagwons, small-scale offices and some places to get cheap meat but overpriced beer. There is, thankfully, a Daiso on the crossroads in the heart of the town, which should have everything he needs.

He's out of the door and on the road within no time, heart beating a little too fast than is probably healthy for a man as fit as him in his mid-twenties. It's not that he's nervous as such – just excited. Hasn't seen you in a few days. Is learning what the phrase' absence makes the heart grows fonder' truly means.

Parking up a few roads over to avoid paying for a space, Jeongguk checks he's got his wallet, then heads to the store. Head down, quick on his feet, he's got no time to waste. Goes straight up to homewares for a couple of the standard white fuzzy blankets and some handwarmers from the last of the stock from winter. He doubts they'll be used, but gets them just in case. Realistically, Yoongi has everything Jeongguk could possibly need for the little plan he's concocting, but he wants it to be special. Wants to put in a considered effort, because it's important.

By the time he's paying, he's filled up two of the large paper Daiso carrier bags with things. Candles, trinket dishes, a 'My First' telescope from the kids section, and some binoculars from the garden section.

His little shopping trip isn't over yet, though. The mart opposite Daiso is his next stop – meat, and snacks. Not quite a meal, no, but he'll make it work. He grabs whiskey for himself, and some sparkling water to make highballs, then picks up your favourite sparkling wine, 'cause he knows whiskey isn't your favourite. Also nabs a treat for Oduun, as promised.

Hands full, the attendant offers to help carry things to his car, but Jeongguk insists it's fine – though he does drop off the bags in his boot before he heads off to his third and final destination.

To the left of the mart is a small alley that houses a greengrocers and florist. Closing early, the florist leaves some pre-made bouquets with the greengrocers, just so that they don't go to waste. Jeongguk only knows this because Yoongi swears it's a lifesaver whenever Seoyeon is feeling a little down – and so even though he assumes you're perfectly happy, Jeongguk doesn't want to leave anything up to chance.

There's a buzz of old lightbulbs as he enters the greengrocers, a thick metal chain-link curtain keeping unwanted bugs out of the small shop. The lights are cold and a little fluorescent, but he supposes it's needed for a place this.

"Can I help you with anything, love?" A friendly voice of an elderly woman chimes when she notices Jeongguk's perplexed eyes struggle to locate the flowers.

"Uh, the florist – do you have any bouquets left?" He replies immediately, 'cause he's got no time to be dilly-dallying.

Nodding towards the front corner of the shop, she smiles. "Only a few, today."

Jeongguk follows her eyes and is relieved to see four bouquets of mixed flowers sitting in a bucket. "Oh perfect!"

Or at least, they are until he goes to grab them – at which point he frowns again. Sprinkled across all four bouquets are his arch nemesis: white roses.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath – but he's got no other choice. Takes all four bouquets to the counter.

The shallow pool of water the flowers had been standing in has left the stems wet, so the cashier offers to wrap them, but Jeongguk thinks there's no point.

"Actually," he says. "Could I borrow your scissors?"

It's not something customers often ask, but she hands them over regardless. Watches on silently as Jeongguk snips the string tied around the stems, and how he carefully but casuals the roses from the bunches. There's a couple in each bouquet. By the time he's done, he's got enough roses for a small bouquet – which he absolutely does not want.

"Here," Jeongguk smiles, handing them to the woman. Feels the need to explain himself, but is embarrassed by the truth, so says, "My, uh-" He doesn't know what to call you. "She hates roses."

"Well, tell your girlfriend I say thank you," the cashier beams. Never gets flowers from her husband, so she'll gladly accept them from a far-too-young-for-her hunk of a man like Jeongguk. "She's a lucky lady!"

The way he smiles at this before he scurries out is sweet. Bashful, even. "Will do. Thanks."

Flowers tossed down on the front seat, Jeongguk wastes no time getting back to Yoongi's place. Has already lost the best part of an hour and missed a text from you saying that you're on your way. Curses when he's finally in the kitchen with all of his shopping, and notices the notification. He's got plenty of time, but he wants to freshen up, too. Practically runs upstairs to the shower on all fours. Is in and out within five minutes.

Frantic as he riffles through his overnight bag in search of something to wear, Jeongguk doesn't really have anything with him that feels date-worthy – but he does have his outfit from the wedding. You'd gone home with Danbi and Tae so that Jeongguk could head straight on over to check on Oduun.

Much to Jeongguk's horror, you spent the entire drive home getting grilled by an incredibly smug Jimin who was also riding in the back with you. Had relayed to Jeongguk the horror story of Jimin's relentless questioning. It did, admittedly, make Jeongguk laugh when you told him that you'd insisted on nothing happening.

"Said we were just besties," you'd giggled on Facetime a few nights ago. "I think he bought it. Definitely is none the wiser."

Realistically, both of you have confirmed to Jimin on separate occasions, multiple times, that you fuck around together – and even if you hadn't, he's not stupid. He heard you that one night in Pohang. Has walked in on one too many curious sets of circumstances to not know.

But it's fun to pretend like no one knows, so you still do. You don't actually believe it. Plus, it also winds Jimin up so much that a vein starts to appear on his forehead out of frustration, and, like, Jimin's right in thinking you're a brat. It's not just reserved for the bedroom.

And given that he'll never get the luxury of you in the bedroom ever again, you may as well give him a taste of what he could have had if only he'd have learned what a g-spot is.

Jeongguk quite enjoys how much you like messing with Jimin, 'cause he likes doing it, too. Likes that you can do it together.

While the suit needs dry cleaner, he's already put the dress shirt through the washing machine, so grabs it off the hanging rail in the spare room. Hair wet, he's all haphazard. Leaves the shirt undone as he pulls on a pair of socks and then sifts through his clothes for a half-decent pair of trousers. Could always borrow Yoongi's, but Jeongguk's an ass man through and through. Has seen Yoongi's. Knows they wouldn't fit him quite right.

Still, he's not gonna wear his suit trousers, but jeans feel too casual, and all of his other trousers do, too.

"Fuck," he curses, the butterflies in his stomach teasing him with pin-needles on the edges of their wings. He's anxious, and they're not helping. Stripping himself of the shirt, he pulls a white vest down onto his body. A wife pleaser, Jimin always calls them, 'cause he's never met a girl who didn't go a little feral over them, and Jeongguk much prefers this name for the sleeveless tank top than what they're typically called. Deciding on dark, loose jeans, secured at the waist with a thick leather belt, Jeongguk'll pick an overshirt later.

For now, he runs down to finish setting up. Gets the alcohol in the fridge, meat marinated. Cleans himself up, checks his hair in the mirror and is pleased to see it's airdried well. A little dishevelled, he puts some product in it to keep it in place. Will get ruined by your hands later no doubt, but for now? Looks pretty damn good, if he does say so himself.

"Oh, god," he exhales a little breathlessly, mind working so fast he's forgetting what he's doing. Standing in the kitchen, he looks around for something to jog his memory. Catches Oduun judgementally looking at him, instead.

"Well you're not being much help are you?" He sighs, but goes to pick him up regardless. Oduun doesn't like hugs. Doesn't particularly like anything other than salmon treats and stalking birds in the yard – but Jeongguk is incapable of going more than a day without giving him a salmon treat as a bribe for hugs, so Oduun lets it slide, even when Jeongguk bounces him like a baby. He's melodic as he sings, "What to do, what to do, what to do?"

But then he clocks the Daiso bags by the back door and knows exactly why he was so frantic. Pops Oduun down on the counter. Thanks him for his help, then darts outside to set everything up.

By the time Jeongguk is back inside, and his phone is lit up from notifications on the kitchen table, he realises the time. Has a missed call from you, and a message saying you've reached the bus stop ten minutes ago – and then right on cue, there's a knock at the door. 

"Fuck," he curses. Still hasn't got an overshirt on. Can't really do anything about it now. Takes a second to breathe and make it look like his heart isn't beating so fast it'll break through his chest, and then heads through the house to the front door.

He really needn't try to control the way his heart is beating, for yours is doing the exact same thing. Bag slung over your shoulder, a bottle of the whiskey you know Jeongguk likes in your hands, you're a little unsure of yourself. Feel nervous for some reason. The dainty silver rings on your fingers tap against the bottle as you reposition yourself. Want to look perfect for him. Want to adjust your hair, but then you can see his figure through frosted glass and then-

"Hi," Jeongguk smiles, and it's like he's restored a sense of calmness in you.

Your heart is still going at a mile a minute, because he's gorgeous , and you just can't help it.

"I come bearing gifts," you beam like a cosmic entity as you hold up the whiskey. Dressed for the occasion, you've made an effort. While, yes, you are in one of his shirts, it's layered over a white polo neck and tucked into the short black skirt you're wearing. The outfit isn't too dissimilar from what you wore on your first date, but there's a sheer black layer over your legs and a pair of chunky boots on your feet. A thick black belt, much like the one Jeongguk is wearing, ties it together, and the pretty silver bird around your neck is evidence of how delicate you can be.

There's a chunky silver glitter beneath your lashline, and shimmer all over your skin, just like there always is.

Maybe he just hasn't seen you in a while, but he thinks he's never been more attracted to you.

Which is funny, 'cause the way his body looks in that white tank top, all gorgeous and defined, has you choking on your own spit. His strong arms are out for your viewing pleasure, tattoos trailing down one of his arms like he's deserving of a spot in the next gallery show you're setting up for Taehyung. God. Feels like you'll die just looking at him.

"So you did," he says as he holds his palm out for you to take and ushers you inside. Lets you pop your bag down as he rests the bottle on the small table by the door, but doesn't wait for you to talk your shoes off. Is slow in his movements as he traps your back to the wall, his hips pressing to your tummy as his hands sneak beneath your jaw. He nudges his nose up against yours. Smirks when your hands squeeze his waist. Whispers, "Swear I was gonna be romantic but what the fuck, B? How are you so... fuck ."

"So... what?" You tease, as if you don't know how he works.

"You got on a bus like this?" He grits through his teeth as one of his hands drops to the hem of your skirt, hooking beneath your thigh to encourage it to wrap around him. It's around now that Jeongguk realises you're not wearing tights – cause tights don't have lace around the top of them, and tights also definitely don't have clasps hooking them to a garter belt.

"Mhmm," you smirk, smug in how it's taken Jeongguk approximately three seconds to get a semi. "Issue?"

He shakes his head. Lets his lips brush against yours. "Bet everyone on that bus wanted you."

There's a predictability that comes with Jeongguk and how much he thinks his desire must be the human baseline. Finds himself irresistibly attracted to you, and is convinced that everyone else must be, too. Doesn't care for the fact that tastes vary. Anyone who doesn't want you must be clinically insane, in his eyes.

But he also likes that. He likes getting what other people can't. Is a high achiever. Enjoys the exclusivity of it all – even if you technically aren't.

"Good job I don't have a boyfriend then, isn't it?" You tease.

Jeongguk can't argue against this, 'cause it's true – but you both know you're not really single.

And so he sinks his lips into yours to remind you of that. Lets the weight of his body trap you in place, and the softness of his hands remind you how safe he always is. There's a welcome nature to his dominance now, a clear indication of how much he's missed you in the time you've spent apart. Light with his lips, Jeongguk knows he can't get too carried away.

Resting his forehead against yours, he laughs ever so sweetly. "Just friends, yeah?"

The way you tease each other about your 'friendship' will never grow old, you think. Will still be insisting that you're just mates on your joint gravestone . Here lies Jeon Jeongguk: brother, son, bestie.

Easing his grip on your leg, Jeongguk pulls back from the embrace and perches his ass on the arm of the sofa. Takes a second to just drink you in.

"Best friends," you grin, then walk towards him, 'cause you've got no intention of spending any time away from him. The positioning comes naturally, how your hands cup his jaw and his stroke up the back of your thighs. He loves the feeling of the stockings. Never wants to stop.

"The bestest," he husks as you look down at him, glitter sparkling in the low lighting of the sitting room. "God, you look hideous today."

"Thanks, mate," you smile – and oh God, he's so close to saying things he can't take back. "You look pretty goddamn grotesque, too."

Pulling away from him, you take your shoes off and instantly lose the two spare inches that the chunky soles had afforded you. It makes him laugh, but he doesn't tease you about it. Instead, he just holds your shoulders and encourages you through to the kitchen. Should have really told you to keep your shoes on, give the fact he's guiding you to the back door.

You interrupt his direction of your body to give Oduun a little head scratch, then let his control over you resume.

"Oh," you say. "My shoes – I should-"

You're cut off by Jeongguk hoisting you over his shoulder – and the way you scream absolutely does not phase Oduun in the slightest. If cats could raise a brow, you think he'd be doing exactly that.

"Gguk!" You shriek, but his arm is firmly hooked around your legs to stop you from catapulting to the ground – but he does also take the opportunity to push your skirt up a little. Can see just how sexy your underwear is from the corner of his eye. Delivers a short, sharp spank to your ass and is so incredibly pleased to hear the way you whine.

"You'll get one for each time you complain," he tells you.

Laughs, when you reply, "In that case, I hate this. This is the worst."

He does as he said he would – delivers a spank to your ass – but also keeps his hand there afterwards to soothe any pain.

For all you could debate him when it comes to his stance as an ass guy, he still does bloody love yours.

Eyes closed, you revel in not just his strength and his security, but also his playfulness. There's truly no one like Jeongguk. You're not sure how you managed to get so lucky with him – but you know that you wouldn't change a single thing about your past if it meant that it led you here.

If anything, you're disappointed when he finally sets you down. Eyes on him, you sort of don't notice what's around you. Are too busy watching the way light glints in his small silver hoop as he bites down on his bottom lip. Eyes wide, there's a nervousness to him, overly keen to read your reaction.

Dragging your gaze away from him, you finally take in the garden around you – and find yourself a little lost for words.

Standing on a bed of blankets and scattered cushions, he's crafted an ethereal dream. LED candles flicker in the grass, and wax ones remain unlit, waiting for your arrival (safety first). The entire area has been dressed like a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, little whimsical trinkets adorning the space around the blankets. A small table is set to the side, with snacks you love, and your favourite wine in a bucket of ice. In amongst the pillows are binoculars, and he's made sure Yoongi's garden fairy lights are all on.

"What is all this?" You say softly, turning to face him again. He still looks nervous – so you hold out your hand for him. Wait for him to kick off his shoes as he takes it, then joins you on the blankets.

"I haven't cooked yet," is all he says, as if he's looking for things to downplay the magic he's created for you.

"Doesn't matter," you promise, pulling him in for a pretty little kiss. It's fleeting, like the wings of a butterfly against his skin, but it's enough to let him know just how incredibly charmed you are by his efforts. "Gguk, this is... this is so cute."

He nods towards the pillows. Encourages you to sit. Says, "Skies are clear tonight. Figured we'd see if we could find your long-lost family."

It's only now that you realise his intentions. He wants to stargaze with you. Has been calling you a fuckin' star for months. Oh, it's all so sickly sweet, you could just die – but then you'd miss stargazing with him, and there's nothing more you want to do.

Reaching across for the remote that controls Yoongi's fairy lights, Jeongguk fades them out. Knows that light pollution is the worst for trying to see stars, and wants this to be successful.

You shuffle down the blankets, and wait for him to lie down with you. Though you're side by side, Jeongguk needs you closer – and so he weaves his fingers between yours. Says nothing for a moment or so, just letting his eyes adjust to the light levels, and is so incredibly pleased to see that it is clear out tonight.

"You any good with constellations?" He asks, knowing that his knowledge is stuck at the bigger dipper, Orion's belt, and you.

"A few," you admit. Point upwards to the sky, as if Jeongguk will be able to work out where you're pointing. "You've got the seven stars of the north – the big dipper – and then there's Orion a little further over." Your arm moves, to point at a brighter star to the left of it. "Okay, you see that one – that really bright one?" Jeongguk nods. Points upwards too, to the beacon of light in amongst the black abyss. "Jupiter."

"Really?"

"No idea," you admit, and it earns you a laugh from him - but you're not telling the exact truth. You know exactly what it is. Just feel a little shy saying it, because it means admitting that Thing is, you know Jeongguk. Know that he'll love what you're about to tell him. "Okay, so that's a lie. Do you see there's like... almost a box? Of smaller stars? And the bright one that totally isn't Jupiter is the one in the lower corner?"

"Mhmm," he says. Can see exactly what you're pointing out, but knows you're probably gonna tell him a bunch of bollocks again.

"Okay, so they're harder to make out, but there are a few more stars beyond them – they kinda like, spike out." You can see exactly what you mean, but know that without context it's probably difficult. Still, Jeongguk stares ahead, trying to figure the skies out. " That is a constellation."

"Not sure I believe you," he laughs quietly – but then you squeeze his hand and suddenly it's like you're incapable of lies. He'll believe everything that rolls off your tongue. Everything.

And so it's a good job you're telling the truth when you say, "It's Virgo. Your constellation."

"Really?" He asks again.

"Really. Second largest in the sky." You smile, now. "The box, is like the head and the rest of the stars are the body."

"A person?"

"Mhhm," you nod. "Virgo. The Virgin. Your constellation is the shape of a person."

"I'm not a virgin," he scoffs, knowing it doesn't mean that at all, but still choosing to be childish.

"Could have fooled me."

"Rude," he retorts, then adds, "And that's also a lie."

"Sure it is, babe. Sure it is," you laugh at how lame he chooses to be sometimes, and how much you adore it. He squeezes your hand, now. You know that calling him 'babe' must be the reasons why. Glancing over to him, you're pleased to see a tight-lipped smile plastered on his face. He doesn't look at you – but his smile does grow. Teeth show. And then he tells you to shut up.

"I'm not saying anything!" You protest, then gaze back up to the stars. "You can't see it, but Virgo is along the ecliptic plane."

"The what?"

"The ecliptic plane," you say, as if that will explain anything. "The path of the earth around the sun."

"Oh, really?"

"Mhmm," you nod. "And it also falls on the celestial equator."

He doesn't need you to dumb that one down. "Ah, so I'm pretty important, then?"

"Kinda," you smile. "There's only one other Zodiac constellation that also directly falls in line with the both of them."

"Which is?" He asks, wanting to sus out his competitor for the title of most important constellation in the sky.

"Pisces," you hum serenely. "Mine."

He turns to face you now, a bemused look of curiosity on his delicate features. When you turn your head to meet his gaze, you've a coy look about you.

"So let me get this straight," he grins. "Are you saying we're written in the stars?"

"I'm not saying anything," you desperately try not to giggle. Fail. "The stars are."

The way Jeongguk kisses you in the wake of this discovery is nothing short of cosmic. It's like he's an astronomer touching stardust for the very first time; delicate and yet terribly possessive. Doesn't want anyone else to have you. Cannot bear to let you go. Will revere and worship you until he's senile. Hair grey, skin wrinkled, his eyes will still be full of stars, as long as he has you.

"Never believed in astrology," he admits into your lips as he pulls your body across his. Gets you straddling him. Doesn't stop kissing you with every pause between words. "You make me reconsider it."

"You're welcome," you say, softly pressing a kiss on his cheek. Trail down his jaw. His throat. Revel in the sound of his breathless pants.

"I mean it," he insists. "There's nothing on this earth that–" his breath hitches as your teeth graze that sweet spot on his neck. "Oh, fuck – nothing on this earth can describe you."

Your lips curve against his skin as you press a kiss where your teeth just said hello, then sit up straight. Jeongguk pouts, and rests his palms on the top of your thighs. Thanks to the way you're sitting on him, your skirt has ridden up, but there are no complaints from Jeongguk. Instead, he lets his fingers toy with the clasps of the garter belt. It's the black one he packed for Busan. One that he's yet to experience.

"I can think of a few things to describe me," you flirt. "Amazing tits-"

"Check."

"Your bestie."

He laughs. You adore him. "Check."

"About to give you the best head of your life."

"Che- wait."

"What?"

Jeongguk looks very confused, but also very keen – and that is just how you like your men.

"I don't think I heard you right?"

"Oh, no," you smile. "You heard me absolutely correct. I can repeat it if you like?"

"Rather see it in practice, if I'm being honest, B," Jeongguk shamelessly declares. Licks across his bottom lip, then perches himself up on his elbows.

You lean forward. Steal a kiss. Whisper, "Yoongi's not got cameras out here, right?"

"Better fuckin' not," Jeongguk husks, then chases your lips for one final kiss before you pull away. Looks at you with unbridled desire as he says, "I'm willing to risk it, if you are."

Reaching across to stroke his cheek with your thumb, you're pleased when he leans into your touch. There's a docile nature to Jeongguk that comes out whenever you're a little dominant with him, and you find you enjoy just as much as you enjoy him taking the lead.

It's give and take with the pair of you; equal in all capacities, apart from times like these when you decide not to be.

"Fairy lights," you say. "On or off?"

He doesn't need asking twice. Wants to watch you, and the little LED candles really aren't enough for what he wants. "On."

You comply with his request, and are glad for it as you work your way down to between his thighs. He's already hard beneath his jeans, and there's a teeny tiny wet patch courtesy of you, thanks to a few kisses that really shouldn't have worked you up that much – but you suppose it's just a consequence of the person kissing you being Jeongguk.

Eyes trained on him as you palm him through the material of his trousers, you find the desperation on his features adorable. You can tell he just wants you to do something. Anything.

And so you decide to make him work a little harder. Nod towards his lower body. Say, "Take them off."

He nods. Frantically unbuckles his belt. Lets his eyes dart between you and his hands. Doesn't wanna miss the way you're taking out your claw clip, and replacing it with the hair tie around your wrist. Slips his jeans past his ass. Lets you see just how big he is, in a pair of white Calvins.

"Fuck," you exhale, 'cause how can you not? Like the rest of his body, his cock was made to be adored. It's only fitting that you've never loved one more.

He smirks at the way you can't take your eyes off his crotch. Have barely even noticed him awkwardly getting his jeans fully off. Too transfixed.

"You gonna suck it, or just stare at it?" He teases in good humour.

Casting him a jovial glare, you say, "Careful, or I'll do neither."

He absolutely knows that you one hundred percent would do that just to prove a petty point, so he shuts up. Looks ever so serene as he sighs into the feeling of your lips pressing kisses against the cotton covering his thick shaft.

Being with Jeongguk like this is a pleasure for all of your senses. The freshness of his laundry meeting the musky natural scent of his body is enough to drive you wild. When it's teamed with the pretty sounds of his dulcet whines? Well, it's a recipe for disaster. Or for sin. However you wanna perceive it.

Tugging on the waistband of his underwear, you let it ping against his skin. The instruction is clear enough, and he wastes no time lifting his hips to free himself from his underwear. They're tossed to the side with his trousers, that goddamn white vest the only thing left on his body. You want that off too – and when you tell him that, he complies without objection. Is happily entirely naked for you, just the silver chain around his neck and hoops on his lip left to remove - and you'll never ask for them off.

"Such a good boy for me, aren't you?" You praise, hands stroking up his thighs, deliberately not getting too close to his throbbing cock. It's so pretty like this- Hard. Needy. -the vein running up the underside of his shaft all engorged and desperate for your touch.

He mumbles some sort of agreement, lips pressed together, a muffled groan stuck in his throat as you let a tiny bit of spit drip from your pursed lips to his shaft. When it makes contact with his skin, his dick fucking twitches, and – oh – how you adore the male anatomy.

Pressing a wet kiss to his thigh, you work up until you're level with his cock, and switch sides. Trail down, this time. Giggle, when he groans.

"What is it?" you feign innocence. "Watcha want, Koo?"

It's a miracle he doesn't cum on the spot.

"Suck me off," he desperately husks, reaching down for you. Soft in his touch, he strokes your hair. Doesn't try and take the lead. Just wants to have you in all capacities.

"Say please," you tell him.

And so he does. "Suck me off, please."

He's so pretty when he begs, which is why you'll make him beg even more.

"Hmm," you hum, resuming your wanton kisses just out of reach. "Maybe later."

He's about to complain – but then he feels the warmth of your wet tongue stroking up his balls. "Fuck."

Lips soft against his skin, your hand gently begins to spread your spit up his shaft. It's not the focus right now, as you carefully take one of his balls in your mouth, gently rolling your tongue against it. Letting it go with a small pop, you giggle at the way he whines for you.

"Like that?" you check.

"Fuck," he husks. "Yeah, I fuckin' like that."

And it's proven with the way his body writhes for you under lunar light as you repeat your previous steps on the other side.

This time, you spit. Get him nice and wet. Lick between each side and neglect to pay any real attention his cock. He almost thinks you're about to finally focus on it when you ask, "What's the word, Gguk?"

"Word?" He asks, a little confused, panting slightly from the incomparable pleasure he's experiencing as both of your hands gently massage his cock.

"Chess," you tell him, as if he's ever really been the one who would need to use it.

"Chess?" He cocks a brow.

"Mhhm," you smile, understanding why he enjoys the dynamic you're normally in so much.

He asks no further questions. Trusts you. Knows you're gonna do all you can to make him feel good – and it excites him. Finds it hard to imagine a scenario in which he'll ever say chess.

Instead, he simply says, "Do whatever the fuck you want to me."

He's so pathetic, sometimes. So pliable, and pretty, and petite in his words despite the strength of his body.

And so as you let his cock sink into your mouth, one of your hands still at the base of his cock, you know you're gonna make him feel things you never have done before. You wanna rewrite his memories. Take claim of his body like he's done to yours. Want the scent of your perfume and touch of your hands synonymous with Jeongguk's understanding of what it is to come undone for another person.

There's no restraint to the way you take him; wet, warm, wanton. His hands grip in your hair, pushing you down as his hips start to thrash upwards. He hits the back of your throat again, and again, and again – until it all gets too much and he has to yank you away from him before he finishes far too soon.

Panting as you recover from letting him fuck your face, you're smirking. Are pleased that he seems to think he has control over the situation. Breathlessly, you say, "That was cute."

"Cute?" He laughs – and then watches with bated breath as you pull his belt from the loops of his trousers.

"Yeah," you grin, chin wet, lips glossy. "Cute. Put your hands together."

He complies immediately. Watches on with fascination as you wrap the belt around his wrists and securely fasten it in a way that no one has ever done to him before.

"What's the word?" You ask again.

He doesn't need clarification this time. "Chess."

"Good boy."

Jeongguk swears he might just cum. You're too much for him. Too good. Get him whiney and whimpery from the smallest of touches.

As you shuffle back a little in your position, you sink down into a feline pose, and get back to the task at hand. Let your tongue run all over his balls – then sink to his perineum.

Jeongguk changes his mind, and decides that he might die, instead. "Fuck."

"Yeah?" You tease.

"Yeah," he husks. Groans as you sink ever further. Use your hands to push the undersides of his thighs back. Get a little better access. "Oh, fuck yeah."

Though the fairy lights are on, the angle prevents much light access from reaching where you are – but that just makes it even better. You're relying on guesswork and intuition. Are sloppy. Messy. Just how Jeongguk fucking likes it – and when you spit? God, he's in love . He pulls his hands apart but can't break the restraint. Or at least, he can't break it easily. If he really wanted to, he could – he just likes this far too much.

"So good," he whines. "Making me feel so good, B."

He's a panting mess of expletives and tensing muscles as you get him wetter, hotter, moanier – but it's when your tongue strokes against his tight hole that Jeongguk really loses it.

"Oh my God," he whimpers. "Oh fuck. That's it, baby. That's it."

Harsh in the way you spit, but gentle in the way your tongue laps at him, Jeongguk's never had anyone go to town for him the way that you are, nose nestled beneath his balls, tongue unrelenting against him. It could last for hours, or for just a minute or so. He couldn't tell you. Has lost his damn mind.

Breathless as you pull away, you're quick to reach for the belt. As hot as it is in theory, all you want – all you ever want – is for him to touch you. Want his hands all over you.

"Can I fuck you?" you beg, as if that's needed.

"Nah," Jeongguk says, taking you a little by surprise, but then pulls you up. Gets his lips on yours with little to no care for where they've just been. Is feral in his need for you. Grunts, " I'm gonna fuck you. Hmm. You want that, baby? You want me to fuck you?"

And who are you to refuse?

Nodding into his frantic kisses, you can't verbalise a response. All you know is that you don't want him to work you up. Don't want to play games. You just want him inside you. Are about to tell him so, when you're caught off guard by a loud, impatient meow.

"Shit," Jeongguk laughs, turning to face a rather fed-up Oduun. Sitting up on the table by the patio, his dark tail wags. Jeongguk's forgotten dinner time – and just because you were busy eating Jeongguk's ass doesn't mean Oduun is gonna wilfully miss his eating time. Might just be a cat, but deems himself far more important than either of you. Turning back to you, he winces. "Can we hold that thought?"

Laughing, you roll off of him. "Let's hold that thought."

"You're perfect," he praises, leaning across to press a kiss to your cheek, then wraps himself up in one of the blanket and darts inside to deal with Oddun as quickly as possible.

Still laughing, you take in the night sky above. Find your life these days kind of insane. Wonder how the fuck you'd explain eating Jeongguk's ass in Yoongi's back garden to a version of yourself from this time last year. Biting down on your lip, eyes just as starry as the sky above you, there's no place you'd rather be. Inside, maybe. Actually, definitely inside.

Grabbing Jeongguk's clothes, you head towards the house just as he's returning to you.

"Oh?" He asks of your movement.

"Getting cold," you say. Continue walking past, and stand on your tippy toes to whisper. "You'll get me naked far quicker inside."

He doesn't need telling twice. Locks the backdoor, and kicks a foot through the catflap to make sure Oduun can vacate the premises and not disturb you both for a second time.

Already in the spare room by the time Jeongguk arrives, you've stripped to your underwear.

It's a small room – just enough space for a bed and some handcrafted furniture. In the far corner is a standing mirror. The frame is made of the same oak that surrounds a second mirror. Far larger, as a trick to make the room appear bigger, it's on the back wall – right above the headboard.

By the foot at the bed, you're gently pulling your dishevelled ponytail out as he enters the room, the blanket still bundled around his waist.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hey," he replies just as quietly. Lets the blanket that had been keeping his dignity preserved drop, revealing his still-hard cock for you – and you follow suit, getting to your knees. The request is clear. One that Jeongguk is happy to fulfil. Walking towards you, he loves the way you look at his body. Devour him with your eyes before your lips even get a chance.

When they do eventually wrap around his cock, Jeongguk can't help but tip his head back. Sigh a hearty moan in the atmosphere above him. Lets his hand find a home in your hair.

Promises, "Best mouth. Best fuckin' mouth."

And so you let him fuck until there are tears forming in your eyes, and you forget how to breathe.

Pulling on your hair, Jeongguk forces you away from his throbbing cock with a heavy groan. It's too much . Too good.

Panting, face completely fucked out, you barely catch your breath before running your tongue down his shaft again. Eyes on his, you let water gather in your mouth, then spit on the head of his cock and spread it with your hand.

All you want is for him to feel unreal.

As you get to your feet, Jeongguk knows the feeling is mutual.

His eyes rake up and down your body. The set you're wearing is all black – lace, sin – and as you turn around and sink into a downward position on the bed for him, he realises just how much he hates that he didn't come and pick you up earlier. Hates that other fuckers get to see how hot you are. Knows no one will have noticed you were in stockings instead of tights, but doesn't care.

Eyes trained on your ass, Jeongguk grapples with your rounded cheeks. Spanks you sharply. Notices something he didn't realise earlier. Grits, "You wore this? On the fuckin' bus?"

Smirking into the sheets, you know exactly what he's talking about. Find that he confirms it when his index finger runs down the soaked material covering your pussy. Or at least, half covers it.

If the suspenders weren't bad enough, the underwear you're wearing are keyhole detailed. Has a split right where your entrance is, as if Jeongguk needs it. Gets your panties off in 5 seconds flat, normally. Or just pushes them to the side. Whatever. Not the point. The point is that he doesn't need any assistance.

"Problem?" You smirk.

In all reality, you're not a fucking idiot. Have years of experience as a daughter sneaking in outfits far too mature for her age. Had been wearing a baggy pair of sweats on your journey to see him. Quickly got out of them at the end of Yoongi's drive. They're stuffed in the top of your bag downstairs.

"No problem," Jeongguk grits, as if there definitely is a problem. Spanks you again.

"Seems like there is a problem," you tease as his hand strokes at the area that just met his palm.

Realistically, there is no problem. Jeongguk finds it really fuckin' hot. Wishes he'd have been sat next to you, a hand on your thigh for the entire ride. Obviously, unaware of the sweats, in his head he'd have had easy access to you – and fuck, that itch for exhibitionism he seems to have these days really needs scratching.

"Ain't got no fuckin' problem," he grunts as his fingers trace the soaked opening of your underwear.

Gasping as his index finger takes full advantage of your underwear and sinks into your pussy, you're in heaven. He doesn't waste time. Inserts his middle finger too, waits a moment, and stretches you out with a third finger.

"Fuck," you grit into the sheets.

"Problem?" he echoes your teasing from earlier.

It'd make you laugh if you weren't whining like a little bitch. "No problem."

And so he picks up a little pace. Gets you mewling - but isn't gonna waste your orgasm on his fingers.

He pulls out. Knows what you want. Is gonna give it to you. Reminds you of chess, and insists that you can always say it, but you know you won't.

Jeongguk gets onto the behind you. Is on his knees. Is aware you're probably the wettest he's ever seen you, and yet he spits regardless. Just can't help himself. Spreads it with the tip of his bare cock and husks to himself, "Fuckin' made for me."

Lining himself up, he makes use of the split in your panties. Decides that just because he could get rid of them, doesn't mean he should. The head of his cock presses a kiss to your entrance as he gently teases you - and then, Jeongguk comes home.

The burn of his cock sinking into you is unlike anything else you could ever describe. Without him warming you up properly, it's so much more intense – and he knows this. Takes his slow. Warm himself inside you for a moment.

As soon as it subsides, he's pulling out just to push back in again. Grips onto your hips as he builds a pace. The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room.

Though it's one of his favourite positions – ass guy – he rarely takes you from behind. Loves kissing you too much. Funnily enough, he also finds one of his hands stroking up your sternum until he finds your chest and cradles one of your tits in his hand. Seems like he really is greedy. Can never decide what he likes more.

"Faster," you tell him oF his pace – and he picks it up effortlessly.

"Yeah?" he grunts. "This good?"

And just because you can't help yourself, you say, "Harder."

You expect a little speed increase. Maybe a spank.

Instead, Jeongguk uses the hand on your chest to push your body up. Can feel your ass against the tops of his thighs. Doesn't need to see it – but he needs you to see what it looks like when he fucks you.

Focusing on the mirror ahead, the hand on your chest changes position. Rests around the base of your neck, now. Joins your bird. Squeezes to match the tightness of his other hand on your waist.

Face fucked out, eyes glossy and full of stars, he thinks you look absolutely beautiful. Lips pouty, there's a desperation to you. Vulnerability. An awareness that in moments like these, you do not belong to yourself.

His cock continues pounding into you, tits bouncing in the reflection. Hips pumping at a speed that you know your fingers could never rival, Jeongguk is fucking you so well you can't even talk.

Whine? Sure. But form cognitive thoughts? Absolutely not.

The entire thing is a mess; your pussy, your moans, your inability to do anything but beg him for more.

And who is he to deprive you of your pleasure?

He gets your head pressed back into the duvet. Doesn't hold it there, grabbing your hips for him thrash himself into you at a record speed, instead.

"Talking me so fuckin' well," he praises through gritted teeth, a sweat building on his skin. "Love this cunt. Mine, isn't it? Mine."

You nod. Whine in the pillows. "Yours."

"S'fuckin' right," Jeongguk curses. "All mine."

One of his hands drops from your waist and dips to your pussy. Takes ownership of it, rubbing circles against your most sensitive spots. The feeling of Jeongguk as the pads of his fingers massage you just right, tip of his cock stroke against your g-spot, is unlike anything you could ever describe. The sensation is too much to bear. Too good.

"Close," you cry out, 'cause it's all you can manage. "Gguk-"

"That's it, B. Cum for me," he begs. "Please, baby."

A few more strokes is all you last until your world begins to bloom around you; white light and the scent of Jeongguk's aftershave the only thing that fills your brain. The pleasure travels through you like electricity. From the tips of your toes to the top of your spine, it's like your body isn't yours. It really is his. All his.

It's only proven by the way your pussy tightens around him, desperately trying to milk him of his sperm as you orgasm – and he's a weak, weak man when it comes to you. Will submit to anything your body requests of him.

"B, I'm gonna-" He whimpers. Pulls out. "Where?"

Still shaky from your own orgasm, you waste no time turning, getting in position to take him in your mouth. Bob up and down his shaft, taking in the taste of yourself until the white-hot fluid begins to spurt from his cock and sink down into your throat.

His release is undignified. He curses. Praises. Holds your head. Grits, "That's it. That's it. All of it, baby. Fuck."

And when he finally pulls away, you realise you haven't been breathing the entire time. Pant. Drag him back down into the bed with you. Let his hands run all over your body, tongue licking into your mouth.

He loves this part of sex with you. Not that it's over, but that neither of you want it to end. Has never experienced such vulgar exhibitions of desire with another human being, and knows he never will. Knows that this is it for him. Anything else would just be pale in comparison.

Eventually, between giggles and pretty words of affection, you accept that the session has to finish somewhere.

"Fuckin' starving," Jeongguk laughs against your shoulder. "Worked up an appetite."

"Me too," you agree. "I showed up expecting a meal ready, but nooo-"

"B, you showed up in a fucking garter belt," he reminds you. "Ain't no way you weren't expecting to end up like this."

"True."

The night descends into a natural state of being. Jeongguk grills the meat he bought earlier, while you clear up the garden, and rearrange the flowers he'd just kinda stuck in vases. They're pretty; purple and white. No roses, you notice. It makes you smile. You know him well enough to know it was deliberate.

There's a casual chaos that comes with the combination of you, Jeongguk and access to alcohol. One drink turns into two, then two into four, and four into a bottle finished. You've been drinking whiskey with him, not because you like it, but because you wanna feel what he feels.

Jeongguk's already opening the next one by the time old-school Bieber starts playing from his playlist, because of course it does.

And because Jeongguk is Jeongguk, he repurposes the bottle as mic. Serenades you. That should be me, holding your hand. So dramatic. So ridiculous. So silly, and lovely, and everything you ever could have wanted and more from the person you call 'yours'.

That's the thing though. He is the one who holds your hand. He is the one making you laugh. It is him.

It's hard to comprehend that anyone has ever made you laugh before, because the way you giggle through his serenade, glass to your lips, eyes shying away from just how charming he is, it's like you've never felt joy before.

At least, not a joy like this. A joy like him.

Languid as he slumps into the sofa beside you once his one-man performance concludes, Jeongguk has no care for personal space. Lets his limbs rest over your body, head on your hip. Just wants to be close to you. Feel your skin. Smell your perfume. Squeezes, as he says, "Missed you."

It's such a small declaration - teeny tiny, right down to the way his pouty lips deliver it - but it feels far bigger than you're able to understand.

All you can really comprehend is that you need to let him know that he isn't alone; that you've been missing him, too. Fingers in his hair, you gently scratch his scalp.

"Yeah. Me too," you hum ever so serenely. "Missed you a lot."

It's not even been a full week, but you and Jeongguk never really go too long without seeing each other, and especially not recently. There's been an ache in your chest ever since he dropped you home on the day after the wedding.

You had both spent that morning avoiding and deflecting your friends' questions and knowing glances - but Jeongguk also never stopped touching you. Not once. A hand on the small of your back, a palm on your thigh, pinkies linked, toes tapping together, he made sure to have himself connected to you at all times.

Hayun's cold stare was ignored for the most part. Jeongguk had pretended like he didn't notice at all. You had exchanged dubious glances with Danbi whenever she laughed a little too loudly, but no issues had been made out of it.

"A lot, hmm?" Jeongguk purrs into your touch. Fucking loves it when you give him little head scratches. "How much?"

He's sweet as he asks, all smiley and serene.

"Too much," you admit.

Jeongguk hums. Is incredibly pleased with your answer. Finds that he loves being missed almost as much as he secretly enjoys missing you. Is so pleased that the way he feels is reciprocated. Isn't too sure he can ever remember feeling like this.

"You're such a softie," he teases, as if he's not snuggled up to you like a kitten, blissful in his proximity to you.

"Says you."

"Mhmm," he nods. Part of him wants to joke about how he's actually, like, always hard – but this moment isn't about that. "Could just stay like this forever."

For a short time, the idea of a life like this had terrified you. Never did you think you'd ever be happy with somebody else forming part of your identity and yet whenever you think of Jeongguk, these thoughts seem to just... vanish.

It's a whimsical, abstract way to think of Jeongguk. He's not even your boyfriend. On all technicalities, you're even sure what he's classified as. A friend, yes. A lover, yes. Yours? Well, you like to think so.

But if he's yours, then it means you're his. It's only fair.

And the thought of it makes you smile .

It's the kind of smile that persists. Is present when you're brushing your teeth together. Is present when you return to the room you lost yourself in earlier that evening. Is present when Jeongguk curls his body around yours, trapping you as the little spoon.

Is present when you wake. When he cooks breakfast. When you eat breakfast. When he eats something else entirely. When you're in the kitchen, biding time until you have to leave for work.

He's still too hungover to drive, so you're getting the bus, and honestly it's probably better that way. Will force you to behave like a human, and not like death warmed up after drinking into early hours with your boy... friend? Friend who is a boy? Jeongguk , you mentally correct yourself . After drinking into the early hours with Jeongguk.

The smile does, however, falter when you're putting milk away and notice a photobooth strip on the fridge. It's cute. A few years old. A bunch of the usual suspects after a few too many drinks - but it also includes Hayun. Suddenly it's like being dragged back to reality, as if you've been living in a dreamland for the past twelve hours.

"You know, I've been thinking, Gguk," you hum a little innocuously, as you walk back to where you had been standing against the kitchen counter.

"That's dangerous," he teases with a pretty smile. If anything, he loves it when you think. Loves that brain of yours. "Go on. Hit me. Watcha been thinking, baby?"

God , you'll never get over that.

"Firstly?" You grin, the coy look on your face enough to let him know what you're about to say is a joke. "We've gotta revert to the old rules. I can't deal with pet names."

"No?" He grins right back. Prowls across the room, setting his mug down on the counter beside you. Keeps you trapped in place with the pressure of his hips against your tummy. Holds your jaw in his strong hands, and whispers, "What about kissing?"

With a small, timid shake of your head, you beam. "No kissing, either."

As he nudges his nose down against yours, Jeongguk lets his lips delicately brush yours. "No?"

And it's funny, because you say 'no' – but then your lips press up against his, just like he knew they would.

"Your nose'll grow, Pinocchio," he tells you as he finally pulls away. Retreats, a little just to give you space to talk. Perches his ass on the kitchen table. "Does Pinocchio count as a pet name?"

Narrowing your eyes, fearful of cementing a new nickname, you simply roll your eyes and move the conversation along to your originally intended topic.

"Y'know, I actually do kinda wanna talk about rules," you say, passing his mug back over to him, just so you don't have to look him in the eye as you talk. It's an awkward topic of conversation, and not one that you've actually ever had with a partner before. Seokjin was a lawless bastard at the best of times, and you were never really that invested with anyone else. You've a vested interest in making this work with Jeongguk, though.

"Oh?" Jeongguk chirps, a little confused, but fully attentive. His big dark eyes are on you, exclusively.

"Yeah," you say a little awkwardly. Catch his gaze. Feel a little nervous. "I, uh... I guess, it's less rules, more... boundaries."

Jeongguk says nothing. Continues looking at you, gaze hard, a little difficult to read. You aren't sure if you should continue, or not, and for some reason you get a little self-conscious. Look down. Start preening the hem of the shirt you're wearing. Dressed casually for work, you're in a pair of wide-leg trousers and a black baby-tee with a slightly unhinged Ratatouille graphic printed on it. 

Tight to your figure, and showing just a tiny sliver of skin between the hem and the waistband of your trousers, Jeongguk had been incredibly perplexed by it. Found the shirt hilarious, but the silhouette of the fit unbearably sexy. It's a miracle he was able to pull away from you just moments earlier.

Though your feet are currently bare, a pair of socks and your Converse are waiting by the front door. The glitter on your cheeks is residual. It needs a top-up. A fresh layer of war paint.

"Like, I just mean- " you cut yourself off. Groan. Tip your head back and look to the ceiling as if that will help – and then decide you just have to bite the bloody bullet. Focusing on him again, you continue, "Look, we both know what we want – but if there's any chance in hell this is gonna work between us, I need you to know my boundaries with Hayun."

Jeongguk shuffles in his seat ever so slightly, but his expression remains largely unchanged. If anything, the lines between his brows just get a little deeper. The hardness of his gaze implores you to keep talking, but his silence makes you nervous.

Ever since Seokjin, and meeting Jeongguk, you've been trying to make sense of why you let yourself be treated so terribly for so long.

While the blame, you think, lies largely with Seokjin, you admittedly had agency over yourself in the early days. The boundary walls of acceptable behaviour had been waltzed over by Seokjin, and instead of rebuilding them and standing strong, you'd allowed him to knock them down entirely.

By the time the desperation and the self-loathing had kicked in, it was too late to rebuild. The bricks had become but rubble. Dust. Ash.

You're ashamed, when you think about it, now. It's embarrassing how little respect you had for yourself – but you also know it wasn't entirely your fault. Love, or our misconstrued perceptions of it, can do strange things to our understanding of the world and our place in it.

"Okay," Jeongguk says, a little unsure of what you're asking of him. "I've already told her to stop crossing them."

You nod, understanding that he's had conversations with her, but they're irrelevant.

Boundaries are personal. Like your own special little fence.

You like to think of yours being wooden. Painted white, with a little gate, that you'll use to let Jeongguk in. Vines twirling around the beams. Quaint, but fragile.

Beyond that first fence, the radius a little wider, would be another. And then another, and another. It's up to you to decide who gets access to which parts of you – and you don't think Hayun deserves any access whatsoever. If she encroaches on a boundary, you'll rebuild it with brick.

Likewise, it's up to Jeongguk what boundaries he sets with her. You're not gonna dictate that. If he makes the choice to have her in his life, then fine. So be it – but you don't want to share a boundary space with her. Need a little distance. A couple walls.

If he lets her into the final, central circle? You won't force her out, but you also won't choose to stay there, either.

"And I appreciate that Gguk, I do," you say softly, knowing that he really has tried. "But this time last week, she was telling our friends that you were gonna fuckin' marry her."

The memory has stuck to you like the scent of a skunk: unbearable and unpleasant and impossible to remove.

"B, I had no control over that," Jeongguk's frown grows deeper. Feels like you're blaming him, as if he is solely responsible for her – which he thinks couldn't be further from the truth. Wants nothing to do with her, and has made it abundantly clear already.

"I know." And you really do know. It's not his fault, and you know this. You know it's an issue within her – but you also know it's an issue facilitated by the lack of boundaries he's had with her in the past, and how much he's let her get away with before. If he wants change, he has to implement it. "But I don't want that kind of energy thrown in my face every time I hang out with our mutual friends."

"I can't just tell her to stop being friends with people, B," he quickly replies – and you understand this too, but it's not the point you're trying to get across.

You've never tried to explain your thought process when it comes to boundaries, and it's coming out all clunky and confusing. You can't articulate it in a way that conveys what you want it to.

If you were to sit and think for a while, it would be simple: your boundaries don't dictate what other people should do, but instead they dictate your acceptance of their behaviour.

You are the only person you have any control over, and you'd like it to stay that way. Remember Jiyeong, and her inability to communicate her boundaries with Jeongguk, and how toxic their relationship ended up becoming. You never want to be like that.

"That's not what I'm saying, Gguk," you sigh, pushing your grown-out fringe off your face and shaking your hair out a little. You're anxious, and it's showing in how you're uncertain of your appearance. Insecure. "She's treated me with nothing but contempt since I met her, and if I'm being honest, you blurred the lines of what was and wasn't okay. You gave her the green light to treat me like shit, because – and don't take offence to this – she saw you treating me like shit, all the while saying you care about me."

You both know exactly what incident you're talking about, even if you don't want to say it out loud: the kiss.

Jeongguk wanted to talk about it at the time when it first happened, but you were so closed off that he barely got the chance. Thinks that you have to talk things out instead of bottling them up. Reckons if you'd have let him address it fully months ago, then this would be a non-issue, now.

"It was one kiss," Jeongguk defends himself, knowing that he shouldn't have let it happen, but also a little hurt that you're using it against him.

If he could take it back, he would – but he can't. It's just something you both have to accept happened if you want this to work out.

"Don't downplay it," you counter, far sterner in your tone than you mean to be. Catch yourself before you curse him out for it. Realise that maybe you're harbouring a little more resentment than you thought you did. "Anyway, that's not the point here – although, maybe it is a little bit. I don't know. I'd be fucking gutted if it happened again."

Jeongguk is quiet as his tense jaw grates together. He looks down. Scoffs a little. Shakes his head, tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek.

"Really?" He looks up towards you, icy in his gaze. "You think I'd fuckin' cheat?"

"No," you quickly reply, not wanting to fight but desperately trying to make him understand how your brain works. "But like, I didn't think you'd kiss her when you did the first time. And I sure as hell didn't think you'd show up at my place to fuck me without telling me. So, no, I don't think you'd cheat Gguk, but..."

Jeongguk turns away, his broad back littered with scratches from your nails during his second breakfast. He's a sight to behold - yet as he begins to pace a little, you wish you could look anywhere else other than at him.

"So let me get this straight," he eventually says. Sniffs back emotion he doesn't wanna let show. Turns to face you. Is visibly disgruntled, but not crying. "If we were together, you wouldn't trust me not to cheat on you? After everything? That's what you think of me?"

"That's not it," you insist, knowing you're making a right pig's ear of this all. You never think he'd intentionally do anything to hurt you. Trust him with your life. "I just need to establish clear boundaries because I can't go through the shit I went through again-"

"Will you stop equating me to him ?!" Jeongguk snaps, cutting you off. He doesn't mean to speak quite so loudly, but fuck . Seokjin has been the bane of his life for months. "I'm not him . I haven't done the shit he's done. I would never do that-"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd kiss Hayun-"

"And I fucking showed up at your door-"

"And withheld the truth, Gguk, before fucking me," you shout back, not letting him interrupt this time. Yep. Definitely harbouring resentment . He's not incapable of doing you wrong. Jeongguk isn't perfect, and you don't expect him to be – but you also don't expect him to be so bloody defensive when the whole point of the conversation is to strengthen your partnership. "But this isn't about that. It's about her , and the fact she has zero respect for me, alright? I need to hold firm boundaries with her, and I need a partner who does the same, otherwise my life is gonna be fucking miserable. If I'm constantly made to feel like I'm playing second fiddle to her, then what's the fucking point in any of this?"

It's a little harsher than you mean for it to be, but at least you're finally starting to make some sense.

"What's the point?" Jeongguk quickly repeats your words with a laugh, but it's filled with no joy. "B, if you think so poorly of me that I can't be trusted around her, then what the fuck are we even trying for? Just say you don't trust me and be done with it."

"That's not what I'm saying," you snap right back, confused at why he's being so guarded about something you thought you were on the same page about. Don't you both want to make this work? Does he not feel this way about Seokjin, too? And you find yourself annoyed; blood hot, fuse short. "But you know what, fine . If the idea of not being able to be best buddies with Hayun is getting you this riled up, then maybe we should just sack this in altogether."

" Best buddies? Really?" Jeongguk sneers, disgusted by the insulation he views Hayun as anything like that – which only confuses you even further. Why bother getting so irate if he really doesn't shit? Why argue? "That's not what I'm saying. You're twisting my words."

"And you're twisting mine!" You scoff in disbelief. This was never about your ability to trust him, and if he's taking it as that, then perhaps it should give you reason not to trust him. If the roles were reversed, you'd have been doing everything in your power to reassure him.

Jeongguk thinks he's spent months doing that regardless, and that you're just dismissing it all. Thinks all his hard work had been for nothing.

"You know what, Gguk? Whatever. I've gotta go to work, so you can sit with yourself and think about what an asshole you're being, and then get back to me when you realise I've got a fucking point."

"B-"

"No," you dismiss as you walk to the entryway. You know he was supposed to be taking you to work, but frankly you don't want to be in a car with him. Would much rather take the bus. "This is important to me. Get your head outta your arse and just think about it. If you give a shit-"

"You know I give a shit."

"- then the least you'd do is respect the point I'm trying to get across. I'm not saying you can't be friends, but I am saying I'm not gonna stick around to see it."

And it's the truth. You'll never give him an ultimatum, but you will stop him from being able to choose you full stop. He's the one who helped you realise your self-worth and nurture it back to health. If you weren't arguing, he'd be proud of how assertive you're being.

Jeongguk thinks this is fuckin' stupid. He doesn't need an ultimatum. It's you who he'll choose, and the fact that you can't see that makes him want to scream into the abyss.

"You can't just leave in the middle of this," he says as he follows after you. "Like what the fuck, B?"

You're already in your socks, though, stuffing your feet into your Converse, fingers fast as they wrap the laces around your ankles.

"I've gotta go to work."

"I'll drive."

"No," you say firmly, looking up towards him. "You're hungover, and I need to cool off, or else I'll say shit that'll ruin this."

He shakes his head. Scoffs.

"You don't think calling me an inevitable cheater, saying you don't trust me and that you think I've got the backbone of a jellyfish classifies as shit that'll ruin things?" He spits.

Well, when he puts it like that...

"That's not what I said-"

"Yeah, it fuckin' was."

"Fine," you snap, tying a double knot on the bow around your ankle and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "But you're letting this conversation fall apart for the sake of her, which is exactly why boundaries are needed. If you can't see that, then we really do have no hope, Jeongguk."

"I'm not-"

Voice loud and incredibly final, you look him dead in the eyes as you say, "You are. I need some space."

You don't kiss him goodbye. Don't even say it. Just unlatch the door and head down Yoongi's driveway with a face of thunder, and thoughts in your head to match.

Part of you thinks he'll chase after you. Part of you wants him to, just so you can tell him to go fuck himself. Part of you just wants him to say sorry, and that you're right, and that he wants this to work.

Mostly, you just want space. Spend the entire bus journey into town wondering how the fuck it got to the point that it did. By the time you reach your stop, your cheeks are pink from the frequency of you clearing silent tears from them. It's all so fucked .

You're stubborn at the best of times, and Jeongguk lets his agitation get the better of him. Your stubbornness is partially why you're so dismissive of your feelings – because as soon as you stand your ground, you know you won't stop. Will scratch the issue until it bleeds.

Jeongguk knows this, too, and is usually so good with it, able to remedy your woes and also get you thinking clearly – but on the rare occasions when you hit him where it hurts, he gets defensive. Defends and defends and defends. Doesn't even know what he's fighting for a lot of the time.

This time is different. As he starts up the shower in Yoongi's place, he's numb to the scalding heat of the water. Wants the feeling of the fight off his skin – but the way he's interpreted your remarks has stained him in the colour of words that he detests. Cheat. Untrustworthy. They sink into his skin like tattoo ink, but the needle goes too deep. Will leaves scars.

And in the midst of his confused hurt, Jeongguk convinces himself that not even a kiss from you would heal them. 

The damage is done.

"You're off tomorrow, right?" Hoseok asks, as if he hasn't double-checked the rota three times already this morning. Has been pacing in the supply room, sending voice notes to Namjoon for the past fifteen minutes when he should have been on his break.

"Look, just ask her, " Namjoon's deep drawl had echoed into Hoseok's headphones. "He's miserable, she's miserable, and I don't know about you, but if I have to see him pout like a little baby one more time, I'm gonna lose my mind."

It's a Thursday. Nearly a full week on since you left Jeongguk at Yoongi's place. Had shown up for that first shift full of smiles, and perfectly fine, but every time Hoseok caught you in a moment of quiet contemplation, he could tell something wasn't right. Eventually got the truth out of you yesterday, after his playlist reached the songs he'd saved from the weekend in Pohang. Had never seen you pout quite so pathetically – and especially not to a fucking Justin Bieber song.

"He just got so defensive," you'd sighed during the close-down of the shift, relaying your truth of the events to Hoseok. "And, like, I'm not doing it again. I'm not gonna be made to feel second best."

Which Hoseok finds funny, 'cause when he messaged Namjoon about the predicament, he learned that Jeongguk had been moping around just as pathetically. Asked to go for dinner with the boys not once but twice. Didn't wanna be alone, but also didn't tell them why - as if any of them needed clarification, when he was practically in mourning. It was as if he'd lost the most important person in his life.

It's for this reason that Hoseok knows Jeongguk would never consider you second best. Doesn't think there's anyone in second place, full stop. It's you. That's it.

"Tomorrow?" You hum. "Don't know."

It's a lie. You just don't really wanna be dragged into plans. Know that where Hoseok goes recently, Namjoon will surely follow, and you'd quite like to avoid any and all Dionysus boys.

"You are," Hoseok replies, 'cause he's not gonna try and beat blood from a stone. "Me and Danbi wanna go out."

"So go out."

"No," he laughs. "We want to go out with you. Haven't been out-out in ages."

"'Cause we're getting old," you remind him. "We aren't young, spritely spring chickens anymore. Closer to thirty than we are twenty."

"Which is exactly why we should go out," he insists. "One night. I'll buy your drinks."

He expects resistance. Expects push back. Doesn't expect you to say, "Pay for my entry, too, and you've got a deal."

You both know he won't be paying entry. Both know where you're gonna go. It's where you always go. Haven't been paying entry for well over a year, now. Have rarely paid for drinks, either. Not when Jeongguk is behind the bar, at least. The magic of Dionysus and the men who serve it.

It's funny, when you think about those first few nights, now. Unbelievable how much has changed.

As much as you may deny it, you want to see Jeongguk. Want to look in those starry eyes of his and stop your heart from feeling the way it does. Will take his annoyance and his upset, and accept that maybe he doesn't want to talk to you, because, despite it all, you know that being with him is the only thing that's gonna make you feel okay. 

Whether he's behind the bar or on the dancefloor, he's your safety zone – and given how much you've cried in private and failed to produce believable smiles in public during the last week, you know you need him.

"Deal."

On your way home, you consider sending through a message to your derelict direct messages with Jeongguk. Haven't really spoken since you left the Min's place. Didn't really have anything to say. A few videos have been shared, but you haven't watched any of them out of protest, and not wanting to smile when it comes to him. 

You've typed and deleted countless messages – Wtf is happening with us? I miss you :( Why r u ignoring me? Can't believe I ate ur ass and this is how u repay me. Ungrateful !!! – thinking that he should really be the one to reach out first.

And so you don't text.

Thing is, you know that if you end up at Dionysus (which you will) he deserves a little warning first. Eventually cave on your way back from running errands the next morning.

You : Heads up - going out tonight. Might go to the bar. Tell me if you'd rather I didn't.

Punching in the digits of your apartment door code, you almost jump out of your skin when your phone begins to vibrate. Slightly longer than usual, you know it's a call coming through. "Shit."

The caller ID confirms who it is – and despite your annoyance at the sight his stupid, beautiful face on the ID photo, you answer regardless.

"Hello?" You question, phone to your ear, as if your heart isn't beating out of your chest.

There's static coming through the speaker, the sound of Jeongguk's foot on the accelerator echoing into the room around you. Must be driving. You've half a mind to tell him to hang up – but you know he uses hands-free, and honestly you don't want him to go.

"Hey."

The greeting is sharp, like a knife to your chest – but the sound of his voice is so soothing, that you aren't able to comprehend the way that you feel.

"Wassup?" You ask, heading straight to your room, giving Danbi a panicked look of desperation as you walk past.

"Finallyyyyy," Danbi whisper-cheers, knowing you must be talking to Jeongguk. Wants to bang your heads together. Thinks you're both stupid.

"You're going out?"

"Mhmm," hum into the receiver of your phone. "Probably gonna end up in Dionysus. Just wanted to give you a heads up." An awkward silence lingers between you. "Or the chance to tell me not to come."

"Why would I do that?"

"Cause we aren't talking," you state all rather plainly.

"No," he corrects. "You asked for space."

In fact, he'd say you set a boundary. Thinks that he's respecting it. Just like you asked him to.

"Well," you say awkwardly. "Just let me know if you'd rather I went elsewhere."

"If you wanna go to Dionysus, go to Dionysus," Jeongguk says, as if he doesn't give a fuck what you do – then adds, "I'll tell Yeonjun to make sure you're on my tab."

"Yeonjun?" You question. "Won't-"

"I'm not in tomorrow," he cuts you off. In the static, you hear his engine cut off. "Look, I'm just home from Yoongi's. Got shit to do. Laundry and stuff."

"They're back?" You pout, sitting on your bed. There's a deflated nature to your posture. Don't understand why he's being so short with you.

"They're back." He confirms. Sighs, then decides the conversation is done. "Talk later."

"Yeah," you say quietly. "Talk later."

And you know it's stupid, and that you shouldn't read into things, but Jeongguk's shortness with you is devastating. The lack of 'B' tacked on to the ends of his sentences. The surface-level statements given without explanation.

When the line goes dead, you toss your phone down. Do nothing much for a good few minutes, until Danbi appears at the door and says, "I hear we're going out?"

When you glance towards her, and nod, you find that the movement of your head makes the tears on your lashline spill over.

"Oh, my love," she sighs, hurrying over to join you on your bed and engulf you in the biggest hug she can. "He's just a boy. Just a stupid, silly boy."

"So stupid," you agree, and let yourself cry a little bit more. "The stupidest."

"Big stupid head," she childishly agrees. "With stupid shirts that are far too big for him."

You laugh, but shake your head. "I love his stupid big shirts."

"I know," she nods, stroking your hair. Knows that half the clothes on your desk chair are his aforementioned shirts. "But it was the only thing I could think of."

For all his idiocy, Danbi knows that Jeongguk adores you. Will wait to see if he redeems himself before launching into a Seokjin adjacent tirade. That being said, she does also add, "Y'know what'd make life better?"

"What?" You sniff.

"Dump him."

Now this really does make you laugh – because how can you dump a man who hasn't even asked you to be his girlfriend?

"C'mon," Danbi says. "If you're gonna cry, at least do it after you've done your makeup. Hot mess style. You can poke me in the eyes so that we both cry. Power in hot mess girl numbers."

Dubious as you may be, you know Danbi is right. A night off with your friends, not thinking about Jeongguk (especially now that you know he won't be at Dionysus) feels like exactly what you need.

"Alright," you nod, as Danbi wipes away the straw tears on your cheeks. Smile, because that's what you should be doing. "Drink?"

"Always."

Dionysus never changes much.

From the sticky black floor and the strobe lights that repeat the same patterns week in, week out, the thing that changes most frequently is the crowd. Fridays are always a little lairy. Mainly a young crowd, it's the sort of people who spend all week looking forward to the weekend. Are too desperate to wait for Saturday to roll in.

Or, alternatively, they're people like you, who just wanna drown the week out. Wanna hold their best friends' hands in the crowd, and drink shitty drinks, and dance to even shittier songs.

There's a heat that comes with Friday nights in Dionysus. Desperation. Debauchery. Lost in the crowd, it's freeing to know a sea of strangers have no idea who you are. They'll never look at you and think of you as a disco ball.

Sure, they'll notice your sparkle, but they'll never look at you the way Jeon Jeongguk does.

Not like he's doing right now.

Tucked in the corner booth with his friends, he's ignoring their conversation, fully engrossed in the way your body moves. How your skin glows. The way you and Danbi become so intimate in your embrace that he finds himself getting agitated. Has half a mind to go and fucking interrupt. Make his presence known. Assert some fucking boundaries of his own.

You make him restless.

You, and your four-inch heels that he knows you're gonna be carrying by the end of the night. You, and the all-black outfit that has no impact on how you shine. You, and the glitter all over your skin, sparkling in the flashing lights of the club.

He sees you. Can't hear your laugh, but can imagine it as you hold onto Hoseok's arm, leaning across to say something in his ear.

Jeongguk's never cared for closeness in clubs. He's a bartender. Knows that it's needed to hear one another above the crowd. Also knows Hoseok, and how even if he was the last man on earth, you'd both let civilisation die out. Knows Danbi, and adores your friendship with her. He's not jealous because he thinks anything will happen – he's jealous because he misses you.

All he wants to do is join you. Not take you away.

Wants to share a drink with you. To hold your hand. To get covered in glitter, and have everyone in this god damn shit hole of a club knowing he belongs to you.

"Oi," Jimin grabs Jeongguk's attention. Holds up his cup. Knocks his towards the direction of the bar. "Another?"

Jeongguk's uncertain whether Jimin is deliberately trying to distract him or not, but he nods. Follows Jimin without a word. Is glad to be away from his circle. Is frustratingly anxious to be looking away from you. Can feel the heat of your starlight fading with every step closer to the bar.

Namjoon was the one to suggest the night out a couple of days ago. Jeongguk had refused – and yet by some miracle, earlier this afternoon, he changed his tone. Seemed to think going out was a great idea.

With Yoongi and Seoyeon home, he doesn't have to check on Oduun, and so he plans on drinking himself silly. It's been too long since he last got legless.

All the usual suspects are here – Jimin, Tae, Joon – and a few acquaintances that he's not too close with. He's vaguely aware of Hayun and Nabi being out tonight too, but hasn't seen either of them yet. Is hoping they'll have enough sense to go elsewhere. Has taken Hayun's name off the guestlist just in case. It won't stop her from entering, but it does mean she'll have to pay the entrance fee for the first time in her life. Hopes she'll take it as a hint.

Glancing back over to you, he sees you in conversation with some guy he doesn't know. Decides he doesn't wanna watch whatever happens next.

"Y'know what," Jeongguk says, patting Jimin's arm. "I need some air. Catch you in a bit."

He leaves before Jimin gets a chance to reply. Just heads to the smoking area. Needs a second to himself. To think. To breathe. To let his mind stop screaming for a split second. To stop himself from staring at you.

He's got Tae's cigarettes in his pocket from a smoke earlier in the evening, and fully intends on playing finders keepers with them. Hopes they'll give him a distraction, the heavy smoke lining his airways. Will coat the rotten feelings of his insides.

But even distractions from you end up as reminders. He thinks of the first night; the cigarettes tucked into your clutch, and how he rarely ever sees you smoke. Thinks you've got the kind of personality to foster addictions, and yet it's not one that's ever stuck. He also thinks you're incredibly disciplined, though. Stubborn. Is probably why you never let the habit consume you.

Not like he let the habit of you consume him. He's utterly ruined. Will never be the same.

"Got a light?" A sweet voice interrupts his thoughts of you, and he's left feeling bitter.

If there's one thing about Hayun, it's that she knows how to turn heads. Any other guy in the smoking area would choke on their toke trying to accommodate her needs as quickly as possible. Her maraschino cherry red lips are just as pouty as they usually are, her eyes wide to feign an innocence that doesn't align with the rest of her exterior.

Jeongguk says nothing. Inhales. Doesn't look at her. Passes across the box of cigarettes, where a lighter is tucked in the corner. Exhales as Hayun flicks up the box lid, and nimbly lights up the cigarette between her lips. Was given the cigarette by some other guy in the smoking area. Is good at that; getting what she wants.

Or at least, she was.

Jeongguk could fill the silence between them, but he doesn't care to. There's a twinge in his chest. Regret for facilitating Hayun's needs. Your words about boundaries ring in his ears. Was a small, simple gesture with no thought behind it – and he realises that's exactly the issue.

All he can think about is you.

He knows that him being with her right now is exactly the kind of thing that's only gonna prove your point; prove you right.

Strangely, part of him wants it to. Wants you to come for a smoke, or for air, or to look for him - and he wants you to find him.

Wants it, not to hurt you, nor to prove you right.

But to simply spark an argument; to make you give him an ultimatum, and for him to be able to simply choose you . Finally, and irrevocably.

For him to show you that you are his priority. You're the one that he wants. That Hayun's existence has no bearing on how he feels about you. That he just treats her like an acquaintance, and that he's not the monster you made him feel like he was.

It's a flawed logic, mind you. You'll never give him an ultimatum.

If you were to enter the smoking area, you'd understand that his choice is to spend time with her when he could be with you instead. Would view it as confirmation that you were right – and like you said, your boundaries are about you and your behaviour. He can do what he likes. Just means you won't let him come crawling back to you.

You're both drunk, and sensible rationalities evade you. It would be a disaster if you were to find him, now.

"Really got a bee in your bonnet, don't you, buddy?" Hayun tries to joke. It's a different kind of bee, granted, but she regrets saying it almost immediately.

He just hums in response. Knows he's being a little rude. Hope she'll take the hint, and bugger off.

Nearly six months since her return, Hayun still hasn't grasped the fact that the Jeongguk she used to know doesn't exist anymore. The boy who fawned after her for endless summers withered away, and in place grew someone new. They share a vessel, but their brain chemistry couldn't be more different.

He's not sure if it's the drink, or the smoke, or her, or you, but he feels nauseous. Stubs out his cigarette.

Hayun doesn't particularly want him to leave. Wants to see if she scratches away the surface, she'll find her old friend again.

"God, you're tense," she laughs. A few years ago, he'd have melted into the sound like butter on hot pancakes - but now it just makes him feel empty. "You not getting laid, or something?"

In another circumstance, with any person, Jeongguk might laugh. Might agree.

But he knows this is exactly what you meant when you said that you don't trust her to know where the boundaries are. Knows that he's tried to implement them before - and that she's waltzing her back over them once again. That they need to be rebuilt with brick.

Jeongguk is curt as he says, "Thought I told you not to ask shit about my sex life."

"Oh come on," she laughs. "It's just a joke."

"Well, am I fuckin' laughing, Hayun?" Jeongguk snaps. The volume of the music from the club obscures his question, but she hears him loud and clear. She says nothing. Looks at him with disgruntled surprise, but remains quiet. "Is it funny ?"

She considers keeping her mouth shut - but she's not gonna let him speak to her like that.

"Honestly?" she scoffs, bitter and scornful in her unspoken feelings towards the situation at hand. "Yeah. Yeah, Gguk, it is. It's fucking hilarious that you're pretending like you're some perfect couple when apparently she can't even keep you satisfied in the easiest fucking way. It's hilarious ."

Though she doesn't say it, her words are layered; a subtle suggestion that she knows how to satisfy him.

"And you could?" He laughs, now. Doesn't mean to be cruel, but he's reached his limit. Is still so fucking hurt that you practically said you expected him to cheat on you – with someone like Hayun, of all people. Makes him feel so disgusting. So ugly. And so kindness evades him.

"You're forgetting that I did ," she retorts. "For years , I did. You've known her all of five minutes and you're already unsatisfied, so don't give me this bullshit-"

"Hayun, you've got no fucking idea," Jeongguk spits. He could get vulgar, if he wanted to. Could tell her, in quite some detail, how the warmth of your lips is all that he needs to keep him alive through winter; how you giggle after every single climax, and how he knows it's gonna be the thing he hears on his fucking death bed. He could tell her how sometimes, his hands go numb from how intensely he comes undone for you; how his brain fails to control itself. Instead, he says, "She is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Do you not get that? She is it . I was never that for you, so I don't know why you're trying to make out like I'm sacrificing something that we never were. It's so fucking boring. Are you not tired?"

"Well, then why the fuck are you hell-bent on proving to me how much she means to you?" She scoffs. Is feline in the way her posture stiffens. "Why do you care more about keeping up appearances for me , instead of actually making things right with her? Why the fuck are you not with her? Why are you not official?"

"Because-"

"Because you're a scared little boy," she seethes, secretly revelling in the heat beneath his temper. Knew he still had a little passion left in him, and is glad to welcome it home. Knows that a fight always preluded their best bedroom sessions together. "Because if you make things official with her, then that writes off any chance you have with me. You're still holding out for me, and we both know it."

Of all the deranged things she's ever said, this is first time Jeongguk is speechless. Shakes his head in disbelief. Wonders how much coke she must have done up in Seoul to fuck with her head this badly.

"You're actually fucking deluded, aren't you?" He contorts his face, utterly stunned by how her brain works - but then realises this is exactly what you mean. The boundaries have nothing to do with Jeongguk or his feelings for you, but her inability to understand them. "You know what," he laughs. "Fuck this. This is the last time I'll have this conversation with you. Accept it or don't, but this is where it ends, Hayun. Keep the cigarettes. Don't ask me for shit ever again."

"Gguk," she calls after him as he heads towards the bar once more. He continues walking. Shakes her head. Thinks he's the deluded one. Mutters under her breath, "Fucking nutcase."

She's about to stub her cigarette out – had only been smoking as an excuse to get close to Jeongguk – when someone else fills his space.

Far smaller in stature, Danbi is just as imposing as the man she's replacing.

Though she's quiet, Danbi is incredibly direct as she scathes, "Is it really worth it?"

"Is what worth what ?"

"Constantly embarrassing yourself. Is it worth it? Do you reckon it'll win you Jeongguk back?" Danbi mocks. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it's not just him you're alienating."

Hayun says nothing. Takes a toke on her cigarette. Shrugs.

She knows she shouldn't speak on behalf of other people, but Danbi's been holding back for months. Has a little too much liquor in her bloodstream to bother being kind. Only came outside to look for you, when she stumbled across enough entertainment to rival a TLC show. That's gotta be it. Hayun must be the subject of a hidden camera show. It's the only way to explain how out of touch she is.

"Jimin is sick to his back teeth of you," she says, knowing that this won't be news Hayun. "And Tae was so fucking pleased when you showed up at New Years – but every single time since then, he's hoped you'd be a no-show."

Now this does irritate Hayun. She laughs. "I've known Tae-"

"You think I give a shit how long you've known him?" Danbi interrupts her. "Just as long Nabi, right? And have I ever taken issue with her?" The question is rhetoric. Danbi answers it herself. "No. I haven't. I respect her, as his friend, and she respects me as his girlfriend."

"So what?" Hayun scoffs. "What's your point Danbi? The situations are entirely different."

"My point is, if Nabi even thought about treating me like shit, it doesn't matter how long Tae's known her – he'd kick her to the curb. History doesn't mean shit when it comes to the person you wanna spend the rest of your life with." There's a strength to Danbi's words. A promise. You? You're Jeongguk's future. "Nabi wants to be in his life, so she's cool with me, and I'm cool with her in return - so what the fuck are you playing at? You're not even cool with Jeongguk. He's told you to sling your hook and yet-"

"You never knew us before," Hayun fights back. The cigarette in her hand is nearly entirely burnt out. "So history does count for something, because-"

"Before doesn't matter!" Danbi stresses. "Don't you get that? Do you not see what you're doing to the present day? How it's gonna affect the future? From what I know, Hayun, you tore him apart – and it's that girl in there, the one you show the utmost contempt, that put him back together. And when she did?" Danbi laughs, as if it's the most joyous thing in the world. "Oh, she reconfigured him. You reap what you sow, and you planted no goddamn seeds in the mess that you made – so take your empty satchel, and go find some other fucking farm. There's nothing here for you."

With that, Danbi leaves. Has nothing more to say to her. Has a disgusting taste in her mouth, partially from the secondhand smoke but mainly from her sheer distaste for Hayun.

Alone, Hayun purses her lips. Tosses the cigarette to the ground, and stubs it out with her foot. A boy from across the smoking area begins to advance towards her, but she scowls. "Piss off."

Her pride is hurt, and she's gonna need some time to lick her wounds. Holding up his hands, the boy retreats. Goes back to his friends, who laugh and joke at his expense. Beside them, a group of girls are consoling one of their friends. It's unclear what the problem is, but Hayun's pretty whatever the girl is crying about can't be any worse than what's making her feel all horrible on the inside – and yet there's no one there to comfort her. No one to tell her that Jeongguk's being stupid, or that Danbi is a bitch.

Because Danbi is right; there really is nothing left for her here.

And she's got no one but herself to blame.

Back inside, Danbi comes to join you as you're having your very own devastating conversation by the bar. "You're kidding me?!"

"Afraid not," Yeonjun grimaces. " Someone -"You know full well he means Jeongguk. "-didn't order last week's stock when he was supposed to, so we're running low on a few things. No starfuckers tonight."

Oh, it's terrible news. The worst thing you've heard tonight. Not the worst thing you've seen , 'cause you saw Hayun follow Jeongguk out to the smoking area, and that's definitely the winner there. Is also why you'd decided that purple starfuckers were very much needed.

"Watcha want instead?" Yeonjun asks, then leans a little further over the bar to lower his voice. "Look, between us –"he glances across to Jeongguk, who's recently returned to the booth his friends are in. "- if you're on his tab, which you are, you should go for something worthy of a bar tab. Hoseok's been drinking fuckin' Bacardi all night. Not worth it. Go big. Go for the Grey Goose."

And this is exactly why Jeongguk needs Yeonjun on his team when he sets up the restaurant. Is a people person. Can read rooms. Knows that you and Jeongguk must be in mard with one another. Also knows you need to talk, and that the best way to ensure that, is a little liquid confidence.

"Vodka lime soda," you grin.

"Grey goose?"

You don't vocalise it, but you do nod.

"Attagirl," Yeonjun grins. It also means it'll be put through on his sales record, and give him higher stats. Really is win-win situation (apart from Jeongguk's wallet when he eventually settles his tab, even with his discount). "Double?"

"Double."

"What about you Danbi?" Yeonjun calls back.

Wrapping her arms around your neck, so awfully pleased to have someone like you as her best friend, she grins. "Whatever's the most expensive liquor you have. Make it a double."

"Jeongguk's tab?"

"Well, he's gotta be good for something," she teases, and when you laugh, she gives you a big squeeze. Sways your bodies. Whispers, "Just ripped Hayun a new one."

"Lucky her," you laugh.

Despite the heat of the club, the knowledge of her presence makes you so terribly cold. Puts you on edge. Makes you wanna hide – and there's no better place for that than a club crowd.

"C'mon," you grin as if you don't have a care in the world once Yeonjun serves up your drinks. "Let's go."

Lost in what it feels like to be alive, you disregard the way you can feel Jeongguk's gaze burning into you.

He looks heavenly in flannel shirts; the closest thing you'll ever get to an angel in real life. Eyes dark, sin is embedded in the ridges of his frown, but you suppose it's apt. Even Lucifer was an angel, once. The Lord's favourite, if your memories of high school religion classes serve you right. Fitting .

You suppose it's not really a surprise. You don't think you've ever been confronted with a version of Jeon Jeongguk that you wouldn't worship; wouldn't sacrifice your sanity for.

Eyes on his, you let the crowd do its thing. He takes a sip on his drink. The guy behind you is getting a little too close for Jeongguk's liking. He mouths the word 'careful ' at you.

But you don't think Jeongguk was being particularly careful when he let Hayun follow him to the smoking area - so you shrug your shoulders. Turn away. Have no intention of doing anything with this man. Will dip in a minute. Just wanna piss Jeongguk off.

And it seems to work, given the familiar grip around your wrist not even thirty seconds later. The scent of his aftershave intrudes on your senses, and the flannel of his shirt greets you as he storms ahead, leading you through the crowd and out to the lobby area. 

You're quick on your feet as you teeter behind him, Jeongguk's pace far too impatient for your heels. Though his grip on your wrist is firm, you know if you were to pull back, he'd let you - but why would you? Why would you free yourself of his shackles, when all you want is to be his? Unashamedly, and irrevocably, his.

Anyone who cared to glance your way might show concern, Jeongguk's face of thunder and your open willingness to let him drag you around not exactly the most healthy display of affection. In fact, if you were to see a girl in the same position, you know you'd interrupt. Pretend to be her friend. Get her away from the guy.

And so you smile. Giggle, a little tipsy, and certain that it will look far less sinister. It seems to work, because you're unbothered as Jeongguk punches in a door code and hauls you into a room by the entrance. Lined with coats and bags, you've only ever seen this room through a small hatch at the far end, where a guy you don't recognise has turned to face his off-duty manager with taut perplexion.

"Out," Jeongguk growls at the guy standing by the cloakroom window.

"But-"

"Out."

Like a dog with his tail between his legs, the guy does as he's told.

The overhead lights are warm, and the room is far cosier than you'd expect thanks to all of the soft fabrics hanging on the rails around the wall. Pinned to each jacket is a little raffle ticket. You've one in the back of your phone, that matches the ticket pinned to your coat. A little archaic, the system works. No point in fixing what isn't broken.

Jeongguk really could not care less about the system, or people needing to get their coats as he drags you around the corner of the L-shaped room. He could close the hatch up at the front of the room, but it's against club protocol. Can't keep people's possessions hostage. Will just listen out in case the bell by the hatch goes.

This corner keeps you obscured from the hatch. No one can see beyond the turn, and even if they could, you're right in the corner. Are concealed by the overflowing coats that hang around you.

The smile you had plastered on your face is dead and gone. You're staring Jeongguk out, the whites of your eyes present against your lashline, a scowl resting on your sparkling features.

"The fuck was that about?" You spit, arms crossing over your chest.

There's a searing anger burning through your body; at Jeongguk for how he's behaving, and at yourself for how you're behaving. You know it's destructive. You know no good can come from a fight. That's it's stupid to be pissing him off just because he pissed you off.

You should rise above it - but you're drunk and sad, and all you really want is for things to be okay. That's what you're really fighting with, the idea of things being broken.

In any other circumstance, Jeongguk would have been distracted by the movement of your arms, and subsequent prominence of your tits, but he's just as angry as you are. Can't even bring himself to entertain the idea of your usual escapades, of what he knows you'd be getting up to in an empty cloakroom in any other circumstance, 'cause he's too agitated.

"The fuck was-" he laughs, imitating your words. Stutters a little. Can't believe the fucking audacity of you, sometimes. "The fuck was that ? I don't know. You tell me, B. Huh? Where the fuck were your boundaries?"

A great question, you think. 

Decide to counter with a few questions of your own.

"Tell you what ?" You sneer as if you don't know exactly what's pissed him off. It's not like you're stupid - but it's also not like you didn't see Hayun follow him to the smoking area. You watch him just as much as he watches you - the obsession is shared. Equal. And so you smile again, in a way that unnerves Jeongguk. Unsettles him, not because it's unpleasant, but because he's devastated by how prettily scorn resides in your features. "Why don't you tell me, baby? How was your smoke?"

The way you call him baby is cruel . Spiteful.

There's nothing he wants more than to be yours; to be the recipient of all your affection. He's revelled in the name before. Loves it when it occasionally slips from your tongue in moments of ecstasy.

He doesn't understand why it hurts now. He just knows that it does.

And so his shoulders broaden. Posture straightens. Defences strengthen.

"Here we fuckin' go again-"

"Yeah, we do," you interrupt, hot in your immediate anger. You're capable of spitting fire, and given how frosty you've been towards one another lately, you want the heat. You want your anger to burn. To leave a mark. A permanent reminder: treat me better. "I told you my boundaries. I made it perfectly clear that I expected better from you, and the first thing you go and fucking do? Entertain her. Why the fuck would go and do that?!"

Realistically, you know Jeongguk treats you incredibly well. In fact, no one has ever treated you in the way that he has. If anything, you feel unworthy of him - and perhaps that's just it. 

Perhaps you're looking for a way to push him away.

How can he hurt you if you hurt yourself first?

"I didn't go and do shit, B" he yells right back. Thinks you're being unfair. Knows that he did all he could. If the tables were turned, and it was Seokjin who'd followed you to the smoking area, you'd have responded in the same way. He also knows there's no chance in hell of Seokjin interrupting a night like this. Wonders if perhaps maybe you do have a point. She is always around. Can never catch a fucking break. " She followed me - but you let some fucking guy be all over you-"

"Convenient," you laugh, all rather condescending and sarcastic in your tone. Fighting for the sake of fighting, neither of you care for scoring points. You just want to hit where it hurts. His remarks about the random stranger on the dancefloor are ignored. "Why the fuck is she even here?!"

"I don't know! I didn't invite her, and I can't exactly ban her from existing," Jeongguk scoffs, well aware that you're just being petty for the sake of it. The vein in his throat protrudes, blood hot beneath his skin. His lips are pouty from frustration. If you stop fighting, you know you'll want to kiss him. "I took her off the guest list, and I told her to get fucked. What more can I fucking do?!"

He's done everything right. You know this.

But somewhere between the miscommunication and the one-too-many tequilas, you've convinced yourself that his defensiveness is an admission of guilt, and that he's doubling down in a bid to convince you of half-truths. 

This nature of yours is destructive. Always has been - but you and Jeongguk have worked so hard to snap each other out of your bad behaviours. He thought you were past this.

So did you.

"You can make a fucking choice, Jeongguk," you shout back, eyes glassy, jaw tense. "You have them, you know? Choices . You can choose to leave. You can remove yourself from the situation. You have free fucking will. You know that, right?"

You're not privy to the conversation between Jeongguk and Hayun. Are unaware of the fact he did exactly that. He has learned his lessons.

"You have no fucking idea-"

"No idea of what? How hard it is to let her go?" You sneer, putting words in his mouth. "Yeah, I fucking do, 'cause you're apparently unable to do so."

He's silent for what feels like an eternity. 

Feels like he's fighting a losing battle. Rubs his fingers along his jaw, pressing into his skin as if he's trying to ease the joints of their tension. Looks away. Shakes his head. Snaps his gaze back to you, and says, "If you think this poorly of me, then what the fuck are we even trying for, B?"

The air between you is so cold you're surprised snow doesn't begin to dust the top of his shoulders. Funny, how you always thought you'd withstand winters with Jeongguk, and now doesn't even seem like you'll make it to the end of summer.

As you shrug your shoulders, you cast your gaze to the floor. Are quiet, and dismissive as you say, "I don't think poorly of you, Jeongguk. I just think sometimes you make poor choices."

Now this does piss him off.

Glancing back up to see his reaction to such softly spoken words, you're surprised to find that the scorn in his eyes almost hides the stars as he looks at you – but not entirely.

He'll never lose them. Not ever. You're part of his anatomy. His soul. Will forever have stars in his eyes as long as he has you.

"I fucking choose you ," he hisses. Gets closer. Encroaches on your personal space. Looks down at you. Is just as frustrated as you are. Doesn't understand why you don't just fucking let him love you.

He knows you well enough by now to know what you're doing, how you're trying to push him away. You feel undeserving of his heart, so you try to throw it back at him - but he refuses to ever catch it.

He'll damned if you manage to destroy things. Vetoes the idea of this fight ruining what you have, but is too proud to back down. Knows he hasn't done anything wrong. Not now, at least.

Just doesn't realise it's the wrongs of his past that make it so difficult for you to trust his truth, now. Had fucked you once with the promise of not ever wanting anyone else, only for you to later find out that the lips that had whispered such words of affection had also been stained in red earlier that evening.

"Every fucking time, B," he continues, unaware of the painful memories that are choking you up. Will call you B until the day he dies, whether you're loving or fighting. It matters not. What matters is that you're still his to call. "When Hayun says dumb shit, I choose you . When Jiyeong was being a dick, I only stuck it out because I was choosing you , and choosing your happiness, because I thought it was what you wanted. When you started seeing whatever the fuck that douchebag was called, I chose to let you explore that, because it's something you had to figure out for yourself. B, I fucking choose you . Again and again-"

"But you didn't!" You shout, now, with no care for how close he is. Swallow back a sob. Don't wanna look weak, but you fucking feel it. You are about to spill the real crux of the issue that you've been holding in for months now. Something you dismissed, and ignored, when really you should have just spoken about it straight away. He gave you the chance - you just weren't ready. Didn't understand how you felt about it - but now you do, and you realise it's tainting everything in a dark shade of maroon. "Showing up at my apartment after kissing Hayun isn't choosing me. It's crawling back to me."

To say it out loud hurts.

To admit that it bothered you as much as it did is embarrassing.

To expose that you're no longer fearful of intimacy, but of him being intimate with someone else, is mortifying.

But it's a truth that he needs to know; that even though it was months ago, and you thought you were over it, it's been affecting how you feel towards not only him, but towards Hayun and the entire situation at hand.

There's silence; the sound of the club speakers echoing into the room the only disguise for your breaking hearts.

"B, it wasn't like that," He begins to defend himself, but his intent won't change his impact. Not now. "I was confused ."

"You betrayed my trust," you pathetically whine, finally admitting how the entire situation made you feel. "Gguk, you really fucking hurt me."

Perhaps the admission has come too late. Perhaps you should have come to terms with it earlier. In all honesty, it's only been a recent realisation. One that you've been trying to ignore.

Implementing boundaries would have remedied some of your woes, but when Jeongguk got defensive, everything fell apart.

There's a shift, not only in Jeongguk's footing, but also in his understanding of the situation; an awareness that this really has nothing to do with how rotten Hayun has been to you, but instead how accepting Jeongguk has been of her.

This is on him.

"Every single time I see her scurry after you, or find you hidden in conversation, that's what I think of," you say quietly, a little ashamed of how your brain works. Have worked so hard to heal it, but old habits die hard, you suppose. "I look at you, together, and I think of how I knew something had happened and I just let you... I let you lie to me, then fuck me as if you'd never do me wrong. And it makes me feel pathetic. I'm reminded of it every single time I see you together. I can't live a life like that, Gguk. Maybe it's my fault, but-"

Jeongguk shakes his head.

It isn't gonna let you take the fall for this one.

He cups your cheeks with his palms, and - oh, God - it's like coming home. Melt into his touch. You've missed him so much. Him; his warmth, and his kindness. He's like a sip of fresh spring water after an arduous hike. You've never been much one for climbing, but you'd move mountains just to have him.

You're pitiful as quiet sobs escape from your tipsy lips. It's embarrassing and stupid, but it just hurts so fucking much. The stroke of his thumbs as he brushes away your tears is disjointed; razor blades in one moment, feathers in the next.

"I fucked up, B," he says tenderly, forehead pressed to yours. Your cheeks are red, and your eyes even redder. Jeongguk knows how much you hate the colour. Feels awful that his actions have stained you in it. "If I could go back and change it all, I would - but I can't. You just have to believe me when I say I'm sorry . Trust me. You're the only person I want. Okay? The only one ."

And yet his words don't seem to soothe. If anything, you start crying even harder.

Jeongguk's getting scared. His heart rate doesn't seem to settle. Has never seen you this upset. He isn't quite sure what he's supposed to do. Knows alcohol is playing a part, but also knows it must come from sober feelings.

When you and Jeongguk started this whole thing, it was easy. Just you, and him. You could weather the storm of Seojoon and Jiyeong easily. Secretly knew that they were never the right fit, no matter how hard you tried.

Seokjin was touch and go for a while. That first night you showed up at Jeongguk's place in a sorry state about it all, he didn't imagine a scenario in which you'd ever choose yourself over Seokjin - let alone choose him . 

Jeongguk refuses to let Seokjin ever know the concept of peace, or a version of you that isn't spoken for, so long as he's in the picture.

Hayun was different. She came in like a tidal wave, and when she crashed, she obliterated everything . It took a while for you to realise how bad the damage was, but now the shores have settled, it's clear to you that you're still a little wrecked by it.

So of course you're crying, as you realise sucking Hayun's venom from Jeongguk meant poisoning yourself.

"I just... Gguk, I can't," you simply shrug, defeated by it all.

"Can't what?"

Though his voice is quiet, controlled, Jeongguk is anything but. He isn't sure if his heart is beating at rapid speed, or if it's stopped altogether. Either way, he thinks he might die.

You're struggling to form words. Sob a little more. A little harder.

He's panicking. You're not looking at him - think it'll just make it worse - but when he speaks, it sounds like he's about to sob, too. "Can't what , B?"

You're pathetic as you choke out, "Do this."

Jeongguk's blood runs cold.

Of all the outcomes of fighting with you, he never thought that it would be this. Knows you're stubborn. Knows you're set in your ways once your mind is made up. Know that if you're saying something out loud, that you mean it - or at least part of your brain does. 

He knows the exact part of your brain well. It's that fearful, cautious little trinket inside your head, right between your memories and your dreams, telling you to do this.

But Jeongguk has spent so long making that part of your brain pretty.

Like an old Altoids tin, he's been busy fixing you up. Has adorned you in bows and gemstones, paper cuttings from receipts received in time spent together, portraits from a photobooth that captured an intimacy so rare you didn't even realise what it was at first. Not like you do now.

He's filled it to the brim with everything that makes you tick: a tiny My Melody figurine, a miniature copy of your favourite Van Gogh, a couple 500 won coins for arcade machines and a vial of glitter for emergencies. Inscribed his initial in the side of the metal, 'cause he wants you to remember that he did this.

To recognise that even the scariest parts of your brain will always be safe with him.

It's not like it's been without reciprocation. Jeongguk's got more glitter in his brain than thoughts these days. Ideas are strung up on origami birds, and memories are washi-taped in place. There's a disco ball right in the middle of his mind, and it never stops spinning. He should be dizzy, really - but it's finally like his brain is moving at the right speed for him. Used to feel seasick on solid ground before he met you. Enjoys the sensation of stillness, now.

Without you, he'll be all out of sync. Won't be able to see any stars. Night skies will be empty. Void.

He is terrified by the concept of an abyss where there once was abundance.

But that's the thing.

It's merely a concept.

It'll never be true.

Just like there'll always be stars in the sky, there'll always be a place for you with him. Always.

And so despite your tears, and regardless of Jeongguk's panic, he surprises you both when he laughs. Shakes his head, forehead pressed to yours. Tells you, with an absurd smile on his face, "No."

No.

I refuse.

Confusion warps your tear-sodden face. Brows furrow. Head shakes. Pouty lips so close to his, you could kiss him if you really wanted. You do want to - but not like this. Not when you don't really understand what's happening.

"What?" You manage to sob. Sniff back a few more tears. Are so overwhelmed with confusion that your brain can only regulate one intense emotion at a time. What once was anger had devolved into sadness, and now you're just left inexplicably bamboozled. Don't understand.

He doesn't need you to understand. Just needs you to hear him out for a change.

"No," he repeats, with a soft laugh. Lets his nose nudge against yours. Doesn't give a shit if his face gets with your tears. Has shared so much worse with you. Wants to experience it all with you. The good and the bad. "Chess."

Funny, how usually that word would scare you.

Feels like it's healing you, now.

So puzzled by him and your own feelings, and whatever the fuck is going on, you laugh, too. "You can't 'chess' a break up."

"I can," he assures you. "I've got like, two birds left on my ceiling, and neither one of them have 'break up' written on the wings, so. No can do, I'm afraid. No breaking up for us."

Jeongguk knows you. Knows how your brain works. Knows that all you want, truly, is to be chosen. Knows that you're pushing him away, when in reality you're begging him to stay – and so that's what he'll do.

He'll stay for the anger. Stay for the sadness. Stay for the bad, 'cause he knows that it's worth the good. Worth the happiness. Worth the passion, and the protection, and the pretty way you make him feel. God, it's so worth it.

Fists bunching in the front of the tank top beneath his open flannel, it's the first indication that you want him to stay close. The breaths hitching in your throat become a little calmer. Lips tremble, but not in the way they once were.

"Gguk-"

"Don't." He's gentle as he interrupts. It is so tender. Warm. Safe. "B, I'm not losing this. I'm not losing you. I'll give up anything , but I won't give up you. Don't make me. Please ."

It's what he should have said when you fought at Yoongi's place; what he should have said a million times over. He tried to prove it in his actions, but failed to communicate it with you how you needed him to. He is trying his hardest now.

Hopes it isn't too late.

There is a soft smile on your lips, head shaking at the stupidity of a fight like this. Find a little humour, as you eventually tease, "Suppose we can't break up if we're not technically together."

"Oh my God," he groans, tipping his head back. Laughs. "I have a plan! Everyone keeps giving me shit for not making things official but – fuck," he pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead, then wraps his arms around you. Hugs you so tightly it's as if he's forgotten you need to breathe if you stand any chance in hell of being together. Is so soft as he smiles, "B, I've got a fucking disco ball in my Instagram bio. What more do you need?! That's like, the most official thing ever ."

"Wait," you laugh now, too. Pull back to look at him. Notice there's glitter all over the front of his shirt, but what could you expect from such a mess on your face? He was well aware it would happen. Wanted it to happen. Loves the lingering remnants of you. "Your bio?"

Again, actions over words. Tried so hard to silently let you know he cared, but failed to realise he needed to actually let you know.

There's no shyness as he nods. In fact, he seems rather pleased with himself, pulling his phone from his pocket, handing it over to you. Lets you unlock it. Lets you find Instagram in his apps. Lets you click through to his profile. Gives you full access to his phone, because he's got nothing to hide.

Sure enough, above his Chess Champion title, is a string of three emojis: a disco ball, a bird, and a star. You .

"When?" you narrow your eyes as you question him, unable to fight your smile.

He narrows his eyes right back. Wants to kiss you so fuckin' badly. "Can't believe you never noticed. After Pohang. After I told you I had feelings for you."

There's a level of guilt that comes with thoughts of Pohang; a reminder of the conclusions jumped to, and the safety mat laid out by Jeongguk beneath you.

Have you not learned your lesson? Did you not trip yourself up enough times? Did Jeongguk not bandage up your knees each and every time you scraped them against the assumptions that lined the floor of your self-sabotaging mind?

Actions, or words, it matters not. Looking at Jeongguk, so soft in his gaze and strong in his stature, you know he'll never lie to you again. Maybe about the small things - the inconsequential white lies that harm not even flies - but never about the big things. Understands that what's sometimes small to him may be large to you, so will try his goddamn hardest.

He really has learned his lesson. Is deserving of gold stars.

There's only one star he wants, though, and so you'll give him it; give him yourself.

"I just got so in my head," you begin to explain.

"I know."

It's not the first time. Truthfully, he doubts it will be the last. He just doesn't care.

He rests his forehead against yours. Nudges his nose into its favourite spot, and whispers, "You'd be insane to give this up, and you damn well know it."

"Insane," you agree. Are slow as you tilt your head upwards, lips ghosting his. Neither of you press down. Instead, you simply exist for a moment. Share oxygen. Stay alive, together, until you whisper. "I don't wanna end things. I don't-" You choke out a laugh, still delicate from your previous tears. "Gguk, I want this to work."

"We will work," Jeongguk whispers. "We do work."

It's proven how your body moves as he presses his lips down into yours, kisses soft, his hold on your body hard. Like the lip rings in the corner of his mouth, he's firm in his physical declaration of feelings. Intentional. Intimate.

The room you're in melts away. No longer are you in the confines of the Dionysus cloakroom, but a place all to yourselves; serene forests and flowing streams, moonlight shining down. The sound of the club echoes into oblivion. All that's left is you and him. Eternity wouldn't be long enough for a love like yours.

But your time on this earth is limited - and Jeongguk doesn't wanna waste it.

"B, it's so fuckin' stupid that we aren't together," he husks as you pull away from the intensity of his kiss. "So stupid, and pointless. My mind's made up."

Certain. Sure. Solid. His need to be yours is unwavering. Will never change.

"Oh, yeah?" You settle into a pretty smile, and it's almost like you were never bloody crying.

"Yeah," he smiles right back, drawing you closer to him. "I wanna be your boyfriend, and I want everyone in that goddamn club to know that you're my girlfriend."

"That's a bit excessive," you tease of his possessiveness, as if it isn't making the butterflies in your stomach soar.

"Is not," he assures you, matching your tone. Is so pleased to be playful with you again. God, he's missed you. "I'll get up in the DJ booth. Tell everyone." He brings his hand to his mouth to imitate a mic, but also doesn't stop holding your hand in the process. Puts on his best DJ voice. "I'm dating a disco ball, letsssss gooooo!"

Delicate in how you giggle at his dumb humour, you shake your head. "You'll end up one of those documentaries, you know. The ones where people fall in love with cars and stuff."

"Oh, you're far more fuckable than a car. Exhaust pipes hurt."

"How do you even-"

"So, do you wanna be my girlfriend?"

You're beginning to realise now why Jeongguk needed a plan so badly. The boy is a disaster. All you can do is laugh – but you also nod. He's right. Postponing the inevitable had opened you up to a vulnerability you were unaware you even had.

"It's a stupid question."

"I know it is," he insists, and pulls you in for a dainty kiss. Would kiss you forever, if he could - but your answer is more important right now. "Thought it went without saying. But, just to clarify – that's a yes, right?"

You'd rather die than reject Jeongguk. It's why he never has to fear rejection with you - 'cause you simply never will.

"Yes, it's a yes," you grin, biting down on your bottom lip. Feel shy, somehow, as if you haven't had him in the most explicit of positions; as if this is uncharted territory.

There's a sparkle in his eye. He reciprocates the way you bite on your lip. Mirrors you, because that's what you do when you're confronted with the person you adore the most in the whole entire world.

The bell by the front desk chimes. You both ignore it. Neither of you can look away.

"Nice," he nods, incredibly boyish and pleased with himself. He has a girlfriend . Feels like he's fuckin' floating. "Think I'm cured."

You push him away a little, just to drag him back down into a kiss that finishes far too quickly for his liking. Wants to suffocate in everything you are. Wants to go home, hand in hand with you. Wants to fuck you like he means it. Wants to hold you while you sleep. Wants to wake up beside you.

Wants, wants, wants.

You, you, you.

"Oh yeah?" You enthuse, totally enthralled by the energy he's radiating. Like a neon light, the beam he emits is celestial. You think he's the real star, here.

You both ignore the bell again.

"Yeah. Fear of rejection? Pffft," he dismisses. "Not my problem. Couldn't be me."

"I'm gonna have to start rejecting you to humble you, aren't I?" You laugh - but then the bell rings again, and you both know you can't ignore it for any longer. "C'mon. Let's get that poor person's coat."

"Hope whoever it is stubs their toe when they get home," he whines, stealing one final kiss before you drag him back around to the hatch. Mumbles, "Cockblocking prick."

Pulling on his hands, you drag him round the corner with you, both smiling like absolute idiots, highly aware that it probably looks like something incredibly inappropriate happened. You don't care.

"Oh," you falter when you catch sight of the hatch, and the crimson calamity waiting there for you.

It's not like it's unthinkable to happen, Hayun coming to collect her jacket, but it's also not something you had anticipated. You had expected Hayun to at least let your smile fade before showing up just to ruin the fun.

There's an awkwardness in the way she stares at you, and you at her. Almost like Jeongguk isn't even there - but he is.  His grip on your hand tightens. You both stop in your tracks. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

He speaks first. Wants to prove himself. Is stern. Says, "Sorry. Don't know where the attendant is."

Rolling your eyes, you smile. Are aware of his intentions. Feel far more secure than you did half an hour ago. He's got no need to prove himself. Patting his chest, you let go of his hand, then head towards the hatch, where an incredibly perplexed Hayun still stands.

Taking a deep breath, you know you don't have to do this – but you nearly let her win earlier. Being cruel to her now would just scream insecurity, and you know that kindness will be the thing that really haunts her.

"What's your number?" You ask. Hold hand out for the little raffle ticket. "I'll get it for you."

She says nothing. Hands the ticket over. 666. Figures .

Jeongguk keeps his eyes trained on you as you head off to the back of the room to collect her jacket from the section it's in. Doesn't even so much as look in Hayun's direction when she mutters some bullshit about how 'classy' the pair of you are to be caught in a cloakroom together.

He knows that the simple act of you retrieving her jacket will leave it covered in glitter, and that's punishment enough for Hayun. Has no interest in engaging in conversation with her, especially not one that is targeted at making you feel shitty.

"Here," you smile as you hand it over. Are met with no thanks, just a look of disdain and the understanding that she never wants to see you again – and God, how you hope this will be the case.

She casts one final glance across to Jeongguk. There's nothing in it. No sorrow, no remorse. She's just checking to see if his eyes are on her. They aren't.

"You good?" Jeongguk asks you almost immediately, not caring if Hayun is still around or not, holding out his hand for you to take.

"Good," you nod. As your fingers link with his, you exhale a shallow breath. Squeeze his hand.

When he opens the door, the kid he'd barked at earlier awkwardly jumps up from his squatted position. Jeongguk grimaces. Apologises.

"Was, uh-" he stumbles on his excuse. "Some business stuff."

And so as you let him lead you back into the main room, you tease him. "Is that what we are, huh? Just business?"

He laughs, squeezing your hand. Leans back to make sure you can hear him as he says, "You're not business, B. You're my girlfriend - or have you forgotten that already?"

"Think you'll just have to repeat it, like, all the time," you tell him. "Make sure I never forget."

And when you finally return to your friends, greeted by an explosion of cheers when they see you together , smiling, holding hands? Oh, how could you ever believe that you and Jeongguk aren't meant to be?

"What?" You feign ignorance. Joke, "We're just frie-"

"Shut up," Jeongguk laughs – and then to really kill the notion of you being anything other than hopelessly in love, he kisses you.

Unapologetic, undignified, and undeniable.

"Finally," Jimin beams – and then gets right in between you both, arms looped over both yours and Jeongguk's shoulders. Drags you both to the bar. "Drinks on me, you silly fuckers."

He gets a bottle of champagne.

Tells Yeonjun to put it on Jeongguk's tab.

Isn't the first time Jimin's promised a happy ending, only for Jeongguk to be the one footing the bill. You're used to it.

What you're not used to is the way Jeongguk's arm slinks around your waist, and how he presses half a dozen kisses into your hair for the whole world to see. "I mean it, B. Really better remember this when you wake up."

You can't imagine a scenario in which you won't - but he's spent the night remedying your woes. It's only fair you return the favour.

"Yeonjun," you call across the bar - but he doesn't hear, so you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. "Oi!"

He snaps to face you immediately. Narrows his eyes. Knows he deserves it for all the times he's yelled 'Oi, Disco Ball' at you. Pointing a finger towards you, he fights a smile.

"You're lucky the boss likes you," he tells you, nodding to the man beside you. "I'd ban you from the bar otherwise."

"You'd do no such thing," you assure him. "I bring in too much business."

He raises a brow. "I don't think you've ever paid for a drink."

"That is beyond the point! Anyways, you got a pen behind the bar? Need to borrow it. Will give it right back."

He plucks a random Sharpie from the hidden counter beneath the bar and passes it over.

Pulling the cap off with your teeth, you push Jeongguk's flannel sleeve to his elbow, and set to work on filling up space on his empty arm. 

He watches on without objection. Is smitten. Can't see what you're drawing. Is just looking at the back of your head. Doesn't matter. Looks at you - even the back of your head - with complete adoration.

You're just making a quick little modification to his otherwise pristine skin. A reminder for the morning. 

Recapping the pen, you reach over the bar to pop it down, not bothering to call Yeonjun back over. 

With the prettiest smile on his face, Jeongguk nods as he looks at your work. It's two words. A dozen stars. Poorly drawn birds and an even worse disco ball. In your handwriting is a label Jeongguk never wants to wash away: Byeol's Boyfriend.

"Yeah," he hums ever so sweetly. "That's me."

[screamlet]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by no one, stolen off the dash- the numbers are outrageous because i've been writing in fandom since 2009 🫠 here's my whole ao3 profile ("back catalogue") lol.

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 144

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 1,624,724

3. What fandoms do you write for? right now: 9-1-1 and bts

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? the cleverness of me (star trek, kirk/spock) an upbeat kind of dirge (star trek, amanda/sarek, kirk/spock) visit philadelphia (hamilton, hamilton/laurens) every day is a gift that's why they call it the present (hamilton, lots of pairings) you are cordially invited (star trek, kirk/spock)

5. Do you respond to comments? not... really... for a really stupid reason! which is that my hamilton fics (especially the first two) were some of the first posted on the ao3 and the comments blew up so much i couldn't catch up and never caught up. years later, i have 3100 unread comments but i read them all the time 🥹

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? the five year mission (star trek, kirk/spock). read the tags!!! though i kind of love the comments that are like "i didn't read the tags/warning and holy shit i should have."

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i'm a sappy romcom bitch at heart, so most of them do. off the top of my head, the most recent: what are your intentions? (9-1-1, bucktommy) and out of the woods (into your arms) (bts, namseok). i think happiest is relative to the time/agonies it took to get there and these two warm the hell out of my heart.

8. Do you get hate on fics? no thankfully.

9. Do you write smut? When The Story Calls For It

10. Do you write crossovers? not opposed to them but i haven't come across an idea where it would work.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of and let's keep it that way!!!!!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? yes, mostly into russian and mandarin

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? yes!!!! but not in a long time, god knows how it would go these days because i might be more Exacting these days. or it would go great! driven outside and driven in (princess diaries 2, mia/nicholas) dexterity (star trek, amanda/sarek) 14. What's your all time favorite ship? honestly bucktommy is working its way up there because i love love love buck so much. SO MUCH. OUR SPECIAL BOY. but long term it's: kirk/spock (star trek, every version), nicke (nicklas backstrom)/ovi (alex ovechkin) (hockey rpf), and cory/shawn from boy meets world (I KNOW).

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i try not to post WIP's because i really avoid reading WIP's unless i trust the author. but there's one fest fic that i'm going to finish if it kills me: table for him and you and me (bts, rapline ot3). there's also an unposted bts star trek au that i haven't touched in two years that is my white whale that i have to finish one day, goddddddd

16. What are your writing strengths? dialogue, and it comes so easily, it comes first

17. What are your writing weaknesses? everything else, lol. describing people's appearances? if you don't have a visual reference, i am fucked. 18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i don't like when it's italicized. it feels too much like making it ~exotic, but that's my own very personal and subjective opinion i don't want to argue about. AND i did it in a recent fic, so. idk. 19. First fandom you wrote for? probably lord of the rings or harry potter in the pre-ao3 days, and all of them are lost to history/livejournal 20. Favorite fics you've written? a lot of hockey rpf ones, i don't know what was in the water but i love them still (all nicky/ovi, all archive locked) the arrival of 290287 backstrom the washington royals did you ever stop to love me

my three boy meets world/girl meets world fics (cory/shawn/topanga): it's just the rest of our lives for bts: my namseok regency au, the other 100k+ fic i've written. i love it and i don't think you need to be a bts fan/namseok shipper to read it. if you like regency stuff, agony, mutual pining, childhood sweethearts to estranged husbands to reconciliation: i think you'll love it! like the ocean needs the waves (bts, namseok, 121k) and recency bias is a thing but man i love my six precious bucktommy stories i've posted. especially what are your intentions? i have a lot of long comfort fics that i've read over the years that i love going back to over and over again, and yes i wrote it but this is one of them for me (and i hope it becomes one for other people)

passing this on to anyone who wants to think about their writing at 12:30 AM! but also @waldorph @rcmclachlan @cecilyv @dadvans @liminalmemories21 @geddyqueer

[ze-eternalmarsh]

Name: Curiosity got your tongue

Ship: Namseok(Namjoon/Hoseok) - BTS

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Wordcount: 5,937k

Type: One Shot

Tags: smut, fluff, sexual tension, porn watching, first kiss, oversensitivity, multiple orgasms, praise kink, service top Namjoon, loss of virginity, virgin Namseok, feelings

Summary:

Namjoon and Hoseok are the only virgins in their friend group and they're tired of it. Give them porn to watch, sexual tension and slight pent-up feelings and then they're not virgins anymore.

[longstoryoongi]

lost in paradise? ✧･ﾟ:*

welcome to romy’s bts fanfiction reading blog.

below you’ll find my chaotic library. feel free to browse through fics by member, pairing, reader type, genre, alternate universes and tropes. after you’ve read a fic, make sure to reblog it in order to support the writer. happy browsing, dear visitor!

SEARCH THE LIBRARY ✧･ﾟ:*

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kim namjoon kim seokjin min yoongi jung hoseok park jimin kim taehyung jeon jungkook

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drabble • one-shot • two-shot • series

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➳ by tropes.

friends to lovers • rivals to lovers • enemies to lovers lovers to enemies • established relationship arranged marriage • fake dating • mutual pining

➳ romy’s fic reviews.

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© longstoryoongi / romy, 2023. — last updated: april 3rd, 2023

[byuljoonie]

P*$$Y Fairy // pjm

read the title…

pairing: jimin x fem!reader

genre: one shot, quick smut, one take, unedited

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smut, extreme dirty talk, spit play, fingering, riding, oral, overstimulation, begging, exhibitionism, dom!jimin sub!reader, nipple play, degradation, dumbification, mild non-con (read at your own risk seriously)

note: This is really for me because I need park jimin right now, biblically, but enjoy if you want at your own risk. Playlists and other works in bio, or tagged under bts fanfic. Submit requests in bio. Yes the Namseok fanfic is still planned to come this Sunday, but who knows I might post it in the middle of next week. Have a great week nasties☆ -dubu

As you and Jimin sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit restaurant, the warm ambiance of your engagement dinner filled the air. You had just savored the last bites of your delectable desserts, relishing in the sweet moments you shared.

However, as the evening came to a close, a flirty waitress approached your table, her intentions clear as day. Ignoring you completely, she leaned in toward Jimin and playfully inquired about the bill, her overt attempts at flirtation leaving you no choice but to dryly chuckle at the waitress's rather poor timing.

Unfazed, Jimin paid the bill without acknowledging the woman's advances, his unwavering devotion to you shining brighter than any fleeting flirtation.

“Did you see how she was practically hanging on you, Jimin?” You said slightly upset at the unwarranted encounter. “Yeah, I noticed, sweetheart. Trust me, it didn't go unnoticed. But you know I only have eyes for you, right?” Jimin said, reaching his hand across the table to rub yours. Admiring the diamond that rested on your delicate finger.

“I know, minie. It's just... It bothers me when people act like that, especially when we're out together,” you said quietly. You moved your hand away from his, grabbing your purse and standing up to leave.

“Y/N, babe. Where are you going?” Jimin said pushing up from the table with a huff. He pushed through the double doors easily catching up with you in the small parking lot. He screamed your name causing you to freeze next to your vehicle.

“You listen to me when I’m talking to you Y/N,” he pushes you against the car, not waiting for you to turn around. “I don’t care about that woman in there, I only need you my love, but you’re pushing your fucking limit,” you gasp out, Jimin’s hand coming in direct contact with your clothed pussy. Your legs shiver in the cool night air, miniskirt flowing effortlessly as the wind grasps ahold of you.

Jimin starts pulling your panties to the side, breathing heavily on your neck as he forcefully grinds against you. His lips are close to your ear, making the hair on the nape of your neck stand in anticipation.

“Look at you darling, already submitting to my touch,” he says whispering into my ear hotly. “This is mine, I’m gonna do whatever I want to you doll, right here where anyone can see you being a pathetic slut.”

Jimin doesn’t bother to give you a warning, he dips two fingers into your wet center, using his free hand to grab your neck. His rough calloused fingers sending you into a frenzy, you tried to stifle your moans, equally afraid and aroused at the thought of getting caught.

His fingers felt like fire inside you, you whimpered at the sweet pain of his unwanted intrusion. Your body betrayed you in every way, his breath was hot against your neck.

He started rubbing you torturously slow, the fabric of your panties pressing into your skin. You felt your arousal drip down your leg, whimpering at how exposed you felt. He left a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck, biting and sucking near your collar bone.

You hissed at the stinging sensation, sighing as he licked over the forming bruise to sooth your sensitive skin.

“Look at how wet you are, such a slutty little thing,” he taunted, you could hear the mocking pout that grew across his plush lips.

You needed him, sinfully, your body reacted before your mind. You clenched around his fingers in desperation. He used his free hand to yank your skirt up, roughly turning you around to face him. He smirked arrogantly, relishing in the control he has over you.

Slowly, he ran his finger along the slit of your pussy, earning another string of pitiful whines from you. “What if we get caught sweetheart? Hmm? You like the idea of someone catching me knuckle deep in your cunt? MY cunt,” he said chuckling at the broken moan you choked out.

“M…minie I think someone’s coming please stop,” you say, trying to move his hands away from your body. Gasping as his grip tightens on your neck.

“Mm, I don’t think so.”

You tried to fight against him, when did his grip get so strong. He moved his hand from your neck, placing it over your mouth as he plunges his fingers back into your pussy.

“Look at how ready you are for me, honey,” he taunts, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your stomach tightening again in response to his touch.

He pins you against the car, ducking down as someone walks in front of your parked vehicle, his fingers moving at lightening speed.

You felt like a dirty whore, getting fingered in a dark parking lot by the man you loved most. He kneads his palm against your clit as his fingers work inside you, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

“Aw I know baby, you gonna cum for me?” He coos, caressing your pussy in a come hither motion, sending sparks through your body. You nodded frantically, clenching around his ring adorned fingers, crying out into his hand as he pulls away before your orgasm.

Your legs shake embarrassingly hard, the knot in your stomach slowly disappearing. “Too bad you have to wait,” he rubs your lower back lovingly, sticking his fingers in his mouth before opening the door for you to enter. You pulled your skirt down hastily, fearing someone would walk by and catch you half naked.

You climbed in quietly, body still reeling from Jimin’s assault. He closed your door quickly making his way into the drivers side door, and pulling out of the dark parking lot.

Your gaze couldn't help but wander to him. His hands, beautifully tanned and veiny, gripped the steering wheel with confidence. The soft moonlight played on his sharp jawline, casting enchanting shadows that accentuated his features.

Lost in admiration, you watched him focus on the road ahead, subconsciously squeezing your legs together as he licked across the plump flesh of his lips.

However, your reverie was abruptly interrupted as he pulled up to your home, reminding you of what was to come.

He turned towards you, tilting his head downward to look at you through hooded eyes. Your eyes widen in suspense, Jimin loving every second of how weak you are.

Even his eye contact was fierce, consuming you as if you were his prey. He eyes you a little longer before unlocking the car doors. He steps out, stalking around to open the door for you.

You don’t say anything, walking hand in hand with Jimin through the threshold of your shared home. Once your shoes are off, you’re being guided to your black sofa.

Jimin sits down coolly, eyes roaming your body carefully. With gaze fixated on your cleavage, he grabs your hand pulling you down to the floor. You fall to your knees with a soft grunt, staring up at him through glossy eyes.

"You see what you did to me, darling," he rhetorically questions, pressing your hands onto his hard on. “Beg for it,” he breathes out calmly, titling his head to the side expectantly.

The warm feeling in your tummy coming back in waves of pleasure. You try to speak but can only muster a feeble whine.

“Look at you in front of me, so sexy. Now fucking beg for it Y/N.” He stared at you, waiting for you to defy him, ready to devour you.

Please…please minie, I need you so bad,” you said panting when he grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back roughly.

“Aww, you sound so pathetic, sweet thing.” He let go of your hair, eyes moving between his zipper and your face. You knowingly move to unzip his pants, a light brown suit tailored perfectly for his body.

He raises up letting you pull them down his muscular legs. Your mouth slightly agape as his dick springs free from its confinement. The pink tip already leaking precum, his size will always make your mouth water. He isn’t long but he’s really thick, girth easily stretching you nearly in half.

You took him into your mouth, choking before his tip could reach the back of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears, he tasted sweet on your tongue.

He bit his lip as you swirled your tongue around his tip. Groaning and fisting your hair as you licked up the underside of his dick, paying extra attention to the prominent veins.

“Mmm, such a perfect mouth baby.” His hips started to jerk up, causing him to hit the back of your throat. You gagged in response, coughing around him.

You twist your hands around his shaft firmly, roughly sucking on his tip. He groaned your name lowly, hand gripping the soft cushion next to him.

He whimpered as you swallowed around his tip, using one of your hands to play with his balls. Giving them extra attention with how heavy they feel. You craved him dearly, wanting to drain him until you couldn’t take it anymore. You felt his dick twitch in your mouth, making you speed up.

“Look at me baby, look at me with my cock in your mouth.” He commands intensely, smiling at the tears falling from your eyes. He rubs his thumb across your cheek, swiping away the moisture.

He lightly slaps you on your cheek, signaling you to stop. You look up at him in confusion, pulling him from your mouth with a light pop.

He pulled you up by your arms, standing you up and instructing you to lay across his lap. Nervously, you climbed onto his lap, chest coming in contact with the soft black cushion to his right. Your knees rest on the cushion to his left, shivering as you felt a breeze under your skirt.

He unzipped your miniskirt painfully slow, pulling it down your legs and discarding it across the living room. Your panties joining them right after.

He removed the black tie from his shirt, strategically tying your hands behind your back. He ran his index finger down your back until he reached the base of your spine. Chuckling at your body’s reaction to him, you felt his cock twitch against your tummy. Slick against your soft skin, crying to be inside you.

“Such a needy Whore, so stupid and pretty, all for me.” He gushed, bringing his hand down and placing a firm slap on your ass. You hissed at the pain, feeling embarrassed at the arousal dripping down your leg.

“Just a dumb slut, and you’re all mine to use.” He delivered another slap to your ass, the sound echoing through your home. You cried out loudly, sobbing into the sofa cushion.

“I know, baby,” he coos, caressing your ass gently, the cool of his rings soothing your burning skin. He runs a finger between your cheeks, stopping just above the entrance of your core.

“You want me right here baby? Hmm?” He questions running his middle finger over your slit, collecting the wetness to taste. Moaning at the taste, he delivered a powerful slap directly on your pussy.

You screamed in pleasure, squirming on his lap uncomfortably.

“Stop moving and let me see where you need me.” He threatened in your ear, grabbing your throat pulling you backwards toward his face. He placed a kiss on your ear before letting you go, using both of his hands to spread your lips apart.

He moaned at the sight, staring until you felt uncomfortable under his watch. You could feel his eyes on your core, cool air making you clench around nothing.

“Such a pretty hole, Y/N. Gonna fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.” He placed his hands on your hips, carefully lifting you until you were upright on his lap, facing away from him.

He lines himself up and rubs against your pussy, you let out a strangled moaned, struggling against the fabric of his expensive tie digging into your wrists.

He pushes in slowly, you clench unbelievably tight around him, causing him to shudder. He’s so thick you can never fully adjust to his size.

He reaches around sloppily rubbing his index and ring finger over your clit, groaning at the contact you started to bounce on his cock. Taking every inch of his girth, feeling it in your tummy.

“Good girl, take my dick just like that.” He growled speeding up his tempo, rhythmically grunting with every movement. A melody of his name left your mouth, crying as his tip hit your sweet spot just right.

“Mm I love fucking you raw, such a nasty girl taking daddy’s dick like this.” You can’t think straight, the sound of him moving in and out of your pussy is so obscene. “So perfect, sweetheart.”

“Jimin,” you sob out, fighting against your restraints, needing to touch him.

“What do you want, baby?” He grunts in your ear. “Tell me Y/N, tell me what you need.”

You feel your orgasm building, your tummy tightening and tightening with his every thrust.

“Hmmfp…I’m gonna cum, minie please can I cum,” you begged miserably, feeling the stickiness of your love making coating both of your thighs. He pressed the pad of his finger to your clit, rubbing solid circles against you.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

That’s all you needed to hear, shaking uncontrollably you came around his cock. Feeling his movements becoming sloppy as he twitches inside you. You whimper in pain, body over stimulated.

With a few more thrusts, he released inside of you, calling your name out repeatedly. You felt filthy, his cum leaking down his shaft as he lazily fucked into you, milking himself.

He untied your wrists, turning you around to place a kiss on your lips. Your lips molded together perfectly, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. You felt him grow hard again, making you shudder in fear. Too sore for another round but willing to go all night.

He picks you up and carries you to the kitchen table.

“We’re not finished, pet,” you moan his name, arching your back as he sucks harshly on your nipple.

The end.

[taehyungfirst]

so big army translator with 1M followers can openly read smut and be shippers as long as the ship is jikook and the other hand taekook biased acc can't even draw taekook fanart without fandom cancelling them even when jungkook follows them himself bcz the ship is taekook got it

Most, if not all of them, hate the shippers so much that they projected on Taekook too, so they’re scared about anything concerning them, that’s also why when tkk was at a concert posting videos was “stalkerish” but when namseok was at a concert everyone was posting everything. Different standards. And also most of the fandom are jkkers rn so there’s that too.

Haru is a bit of a weirdo anyway, when the paris video dropped they let people drag Tae in their qrts in the name of “jokes” and they never delete tweets when Tae is getting dragged but they do when another member is. Ehh, but armys are fans of fan accounts too so.