thief jungkook who alongside his 6 best friends, had scaled an ongoing ring of robberies in your nationâs most established homes, shops and embassies.
thief jungkook who had never been caught on camera, never left fingerprints and never repeated a mistake twice.
thief jungkook who stole information before jewellery, gaining knowledge before he reached for money, taking secrets by force instead of anything that glittered.
thief jungkook who, tonight, had scaled the ambassadorâs estate in less than 3 minutes after weeks of preparation, disarming the alarms within 20 seconds and setting foot inside as his team followed.
thief jungkook who had dedicated the past 5 weeks to memorising the floorpan, the occupants, even the fucking dogâs routine but did not account for the ambassadorâs pretty daughter.
thief jungkook who knew everything, but did not know about you.
-
he had gone into every room he needed, stealing documents your father had stashed away in his safe like an idiot - as though a tin box could keep out a man like jungkook, one who would make him pay for his silence.
he wasnât a good man, but jungkook never really claimed to be; even going so far as to stealing your motherâs rings since they were sat on the bedside table, and both of your parents were out like a light. it wasnât personal, this was business, who could blame him?
it was when jungkook walked out, about to begin his descent, when he noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the corridor.
no, he thought. he had memorised the entire plan and this, this was not accounted for - there was no door at the end of the hallway, and yet here it was, open, practically begging him to walk in.
but he wasnât an idiot, he didnât do surprises, and he was more than happy to walk away with the information he had knowing it was enough for billions to come into his hands by the end of the week. he would have stopped, his reasoning concrete, had it not been for the pair of too large eyes peering at him in the crack of the door.
oh?
oh.
that couldnât do.
he straightened out, a vision in black from head to toe as he heard his members murmur quietly into their ear pieces that they were about to begin their descent.
âgive me 5.â he muttered into his own as he began walking over, hearing a quiet little squeak as you pulled back from the door, hiding behind it as though he couldnât see your silhouette, as though he was an amateur.
the sight caught him for a moment, amused - he wasnât violent, and despite being immoral, he drew the line at violence ironically. no, this was pure, unadulterated curiosity.
he swung the door open, hearing another squeak as it hit you lightly, making him scoff lightly. walking into your room had him rolling his shoulders as he closed it behind him, not even sparing you a glance yet.
pinks and creams, sweet plushies littered everywhere, cleaner than anything heâd ever seen. you were doted on, spoilt rotten from what he could see, and the scent? god, it was delicious - a mixture of vanilla and a floral, something that settled deep in his stomach.
only then, when he had fully taken you in by your surroundings, did he turn to face you, the soft light of your overhead lamp still on with your book beside it.
jungkook suddenly felt like he couldnât breathe.
tiny little thing. in the corner of your room, behind your door, donned in the sweetest pyjama set he had ever seen. cute little tank, too short shorts, cotton, pink with little teddy bears littered all over it - it had his cock hardening within seconds. the way your big eyes were peering up at him too, a mixture of fear, confusionâŚintrigue?
was he reading that wrong?
he took a step towards you, body moving without even thinking. another, and one more, two more. he was stood in front of you now, your big eyes looking up, lips parted - he could see the way your chest was rising and falling, nipples hard, poking through your tank.
âwho are you?â he tilted his head at you, voice quiet, eyebrow raised.
the way you began nibbling on your lip, your fingers flexing at your chest as they clasped one another. you were precious, the sweetest thing heâd ever seen, and the overwhelming feeling that was running through his veins was unlike anything he could account for. you had him undone with a single look, his chest beating loudly he was sure you could hear it.
he, the fear of the situation, had become undone by you and you hadnât even done anything.
ây/n.â you whispered in response, shaky tone though you admittedly didnât fear fear.
you shuffled in front of him, eyes blinking, as he furrowed his eyebrows. he repeated your name, once, then twice, tasting it on his lips, enjoying the feel of the vowels and consonants in his mouth.
suddenly, a bang from the outside of your room. you gasped, looking at him, as he too looked at the door, now closed, hearing your father and his security team shout at one another.
jungkook hissed, realising he was fucking cornered, all happening due to his wandering eye for the pretty girl he hadnât accounted for. he should have known about you. how was it he didnât?
he looked at you, looked at the way you were continuously nibbling on your lip before you grabbed him, pulling him towards your bed. you werenât sure what you were doing, but the handsome criminal followed your every move as though he was willing to do whatever you needed, and the thought had you curling.
âhide.â you whispered to him, eyebrows furrowing as you pushed him into your bed. he obliged, eyes widening slightly as you too got in beside him, curling the covers over you both and placing one of your larger teddies on top of him.
within seconds, he was engulfed by both your sweet scent, his face pushed into your breasts, and your covers. he wasnât visible, and to account for his shape in the covers, your large teddy sat on top of him in a way that simply made sense to the tired eye.
the door swung open, both your parents panting, a team of security behind them. you pretended to gasp, the book you were reading from earlier dropping from your hands.
ây/n, are you alright?â your dad ushered, as security began walking around the room for any evidence someone had been inside.
âwhatâs happening?â your voice felt unreal to your own ears, the lie coming out too smooth for someone who had been sheltered every second of her existence. no one would ever assume otherwise.
after a few seconds of sweeping, they relaxed, realising there was no harm, no stress, nothing had happened here, and that you were untouched.
âi want two of you by her door all night. you hear me? anything happens, itâs on you guys.â your father hissed to the security team, making them nod as they retreated, closing the door behind them and taking their station a healthy distance from your door to give you your privacy.
jungkook panted against your breasts, nose nuzzled into your chest, hot mouth breathing against one of your nipples. he couldnât help himself, teeth grazing one just slightly causing you to shudder, back arching into him, before pushing the teddy off and unravelling the covers from him.
âyou canât leave..theyâll..theyâll know i lied and..â your chest was heaving a little, unsure why you had protected him, and more importantly, at the consequences this would bring to you.
he looked up at you, jaw clenching, nuzzling his nose in further for a moment to simply indulge. he liked the noises you were making, clearly enjoying his touch despite the inner warmth inside your head at the thought of it.
âdonât worry, baby. iâll take care of you, hm?â
â
a little drabble for my babiesss - i literally dreamt about this & then wrote it immediately lol
if this is something you liked, feel free to show some love on my kofi and stick around, love u guys bad!! â¤ď¸
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â summary: rooming with a fuck boy is a recipe for disaster, but with an eviction notice tying your hands, your standards drop incredibly low. what started as the solution to all your problems has spiraled into a tense game of cat and mouseâhands, mouth, and orgasms included.
no problem though, a week away at your friend's beach house is exactly the kind of break you both need, right? wrong. the sunâs out, the drinks are strong, and your self-control forgot to pack a bag. if you thought being confined to the four walls of your apartment was hard, just wait 'til the heat kicks in.
â pairing: kim taehyung x reader
â genre: fuck boy & college roommates au + fluff, smut
â word count: 17.1k
â warnings: minor descriptions about being injured by shattered glass, mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, lots and lots of sexual tension, seokjin & jungkook (yes, they need their own warning, their characters wrote themselves), brief mentions of vomiting, weed, chaotic friends, jealousy (w healthy communication after!), explicit sexual content, dirty talk, exhibitionism, masturbation (f), oral (f), mentions of oral (m), semi-public sex, penetrative sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, namjoon having a license is the most fictional part of this story
â a/n: this is part two. part one must be read first for this to make sense! tumblr forced me to post it as two separate posts (almost three, and i was deadass panicking). link is attached below!
1 | masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | moodboard
SHREEEP.
Waking in a panic, you instinctively reach for your phone, convinced an alarm is waking the entire house. At the aggressive reach, you nearly roll out of bed, bracing yourself by the edge of the mattress.Â
Your phone falls with a thud.
Disoriented and painfully aware of the alcohol in your system, the side of your face smothers into the soft cushion of your pillow. Mind and body still disconnect, a deep slumber welcomes you again.Â
Breath evening outâ!
SHREEEP.
SHREEEP.
SHREEEP.
Head digging further into the pillow, a muffled groan escapes.
High-pitch screeching scratches your ears, sharp nails tearing into you. More awake than youâre happy to be, you realize itâs not an alarm.
A loud bang against your door jolts you.Â
Several emotions pass in secondsâshock, fear, confusion. As the source of your rude awakening reveals himself, you settle for anger.Â
âWake up, you sons of bitches!â Seokjin bellows down the hall. âTime for some reef-freshing mistakes!â
Cracking an eye open, you breathe deeply.Â
The curtains are swaying with the early sea breeze, light spilling in brightly. Irritation stirs with every beat in your chest, homicidal thoughts passing your mind in a matter of seconds.Â
Another whistle splits the air. Long, drawn out, and so unnecessarily loud, claws piercing your brain painfully.
Before you realize, youâre marching towards the door.
Prying it open, you find Seokjin with lips wrapped around the maddening whistle.Â
His cheeks are puffed, about to blow another screech. Without a moment's hesitation, you rip it away from him with a menacing glare.
Hissing, you greet, âShut. The fuck. Up.â
âMorninâ, sunshine.â Seokjin spins on his heel to better face you. âHowâd you sleep?â
Before you answer, a flashing red glint catches your attention.Â
Beneath his Hawaiian button-up is a glitter-coated undershirt that spells âTropic Like Itâs Hotâ in bright red letters, clashing against the plain white of his tank. His swim trunks are patterned entirely with parrots wearing pineapple sunglasses, each one holding a tiny cocktail.
A pair of pineapple sunglasses rests on the bridge of his nose, but his dedication to minute details isnât what gives you pause. Itâs the horrifying fake parrot perched on his shoulderâpaint chipped, wings bent, eyes permanently bulging, and extremely creepy.
A grin curves on his lips, hand reaching to pet the plastic birdâs head. âMeet Captain Eggbert.â
âWhy?â
âI couldnât get a real one.â
âNo. Why do you have a fucking - you know what, no. Never mind.â Rubbing your temples, a headache settles in. âI donât want to know.â
âYour loss.â Seokjin shrugs before shifting his attention to his whistle. âGive back my whistle.â
âNo.â
âItâs Sandathlon today,â Seokjin announces, arms crossing over his chest. âI need my whistle.â
Every year during the getaway, the group gets drunk and plays a string of increasingly stupid gamesâaka Sandathlon. The winner of the previous year (aka Champion of Dunes) oversees the creation of nonsensical games for the following year. Last year, Seokjin won, meaning today is destined for chaos. Heâs spent a year fine-tuning a ridiculous lineup of events, having not shut up about it since Christmas.
Your eyes roll. âNot at ass oâclock in the morning.â
âMy whistle shows authority as reigning champion,â he declares, as though the plastic Walmart whistle is a crown forged in dragon fire. âThe whistle is my power. How will people respect my title ifâ!â
Not sparing another second, the door slams shut.Â
On the other side, he releases a muffled noise of betrayal. His miserable attempt at whistling echoes as he ventures down the hall.Â
Chucking the whistle across the room, you release a breath. Itâs early, youâre hungover, and there isnât enough caffeine in the world to help you process whatever the hell that was.
Head heavy, your feet shuffle towards the bed, grabbing your phone.
8:12 AM.
Far too early for Seokjinâs brand of chaotic beach theater.
Groaning, you collapse onto the mattress. Annoyed that youâre awake. Annoyed by the dull throb behind your eyes. Annoyed by the sunlight stabbing through the blinds. Annoyed at the abrupt awakening.Â
Plotting revenge, faint footsteps enter the shared washroom.
Eyes flickering towards the entrance, the door is slightly ajar.Â
Finding the time to speak with Taehyung became increasingly difficult as the night passed.
Hectic drinking games left you buzzed and barely coherent. More people from neighbouring houses joined, hearing the deep thrum of the base from down the block. New people cornering you into conversations you could barely hear, nor cared about. Whenever you found Taehyung, once you managed to escape the confines of small talk, he would be gone.Â
Fear seized you last night.
Whatever this is, itâs slipping through your fingers like sand. Desperately, you need confirmation that alcohol and weed worsened your worries. That every projection of fear was a seed of doubt intensified by the terrors of anxiety.Â
Now, under the warm sunlight, your thoughts are more settled. More secure that it was merely just senseless worries fueled by inebriation. But the seed of doubt lingers.
Feet planting on the ground, thereâs a moment's hesitation before they propel you towards the washroom.
Leaning back against the counter, heâs brushing his teeth. Hair mussed in every direction, limply flopping in the air as he rubs the remnants of sleep out of his eyes.Â
âMorning.â
His eyes widen, surprised by your voice. He doesnât respond, hand pausing mid-brush.
Taking another step, you nod towards the sink. âMind if I join?â
Slowly, his head shakes, resuming his actions.Â
Standing beside him, you proceed. You face the mirror; he faces away. Eyes closed, he almost seems serene, whereas you feel everything but. Hundreds of times youâve done this at your apartment, but hereânowâeverything feels wrong.
Face a void of emotions, you canât read him, despite how hard you try.
Minutes pass, and the doubt spreads. Thorned vines curl around your ribs, twisting tighter with every passing thought. Mercilessly, it coils around your heart, strained against snarred stems, fear burrowing deep into your chest.
His voice cuts through the silence. âYou gonna shower?â
Pausing to turn and face him, you merely nod.Â
âLet me know once youâre done.â He pushes from the counter. âI wanna rinse off before I head down.â
Frowning around your toothbrush, you ask, ââOt going âo aâk aâout âhowering âogetheâ?â
Ever-so-slightly, the corner of his lips twitches.Â
He nods to the sink. âSpit.â
Rolling your eyes, you quickly rinse your mouth with water.Â
âNo cheeky comment?â you ask, reaching for the towel. âNo saving water excuses? I expected more from an environmental enthusiast.â
No spark of humour, no sly comeback. Instead, an unrecognizable presence dances in the space between you. It seeps into your skin and curls in your stomach until you can feel its claws at the base of your chest.
A shoulder lifts and drops casually. âDonât think you need my help with that.â
Brows furrowing, you ask, âWhyâs that?âÂ
A ghost of a smile, hollow as it reaches his eyes. âYouâve got serious options now.â
His words hang heavy in the air. A beat passes. Then two.
âSerious options?â A bitter taste on your tongue. âYou mean Damon?â
âYeah.â
Brows pinching further, you start, âWe havenât even metâ!â
âYouâre thinking about it.â He meets your gaze, searching. âNot judging. I just didnât know you were seeing other people.â
A part of you hesitates, not wanting to admit you havenât seenâbeen with anyone in months. Your interest in other men died shortly after Taehyung became a daily occurrence in your life.Â
Unpacking why is of no interest to you.Â
Swallowing, you murmur, âNot like you havenât been with anyone.âÂ
A faint crease forms between his brows, a flash of confusion in his eyes. He watches you intently, the scrutiny of his gaze stretching seconds into minutes.
âYeah.â A mask of indifference. âRight.â
Beneath the detached tone, thereâs an edge to his words.
âItâs just a date,â you say, eyes slightly narrowed. âYou donât get to be all pissy because of that. Donât be a hypocrite.â
His gaze hardens. âA hypocrite?â
âYou flirted with half the crowd last night.â Arms cross over your chest. âYou donât see me throwing that in your face.â
A humourlesssmirk.âFeels like you are.â
âIâm making a point.â Sucking the inside of your cheeks, you match his fervent gaze. âWe never agreed to anything. This,â âyou gesture between yourselvesâ âisnât anything. Donât be a dick when that's always been the case.â
He builds a wall brick by brick with every word exchanged. A void of emotions. âBecause it means nothing to you.â
You. Not us.Â
Before you question it, he turns on his heel. âLet me know once youâre done.âÂ
He shuts the door with a soft thud, leaving you in the aftermath. Wordlessly, you repeat the conversation, questions running through your mind as much as they did before.Â
Instead of resolving the tension nestled in the space between, things are worse. Everything feels wrongâthe distance, him.Â
Annoyance sparks as you stare at the space he once occupied. A deep breath as you recall his last words.Â
Means nothing to you.Â
You.
An observation more than an admission. Words that sounded more for him than for you.
Words that are entirely not true.Â
The blaring heat worsens your hangover.
Despite the cold shower to ease the nausea and pain, your thoughts were consumed by Taehyung. The conversation replayed on repeat until your head was pounding for more reasons. Now, hours later, irritation courses through your veins.Â
Beside you, Maya lifts a fork from the fruit bowl perched in her lap. âSo,â she drawls, âOBV day one was a shit show.â
âDare I ask,â Namjoon mutters, voice hoarse, âwhat the fuck is OBV?â
Unimpressed, she blinks. âOperation Bang Voyage.â
Namjoon grumbles, âSuch a stupid name.â
Her gaze narrows. âThat attitude is exactly why last night was a shit show.â
He throws an arm over his eyes, blocking the sun. Sprawled across the couch beside yours, Namjoon looks as you feel. Hungover, half-dead, and clearly reliving a highlight reel of regret.
As per their deal, Maya and Namjoon were each otherâs wingman and woman. Except neither of them got far enough to flirt. Maya ended up drinking herself into oblivion and spent the rest of the night with Namjoon holding her hair back. Namjoon, ever the good friend, left the girl heâd been chatting with to help Maya. Only to later discover one of Seokjinâs neighbors seized the opportunity in his absence.
Namjoon murmurs, âSome fucking wing-woman.â
âHard to help a walking disaster,â Maya says, scornfully.
âTakes one to know one.â
âDick.â
âBitch.â
âNo neck giraffe.â
âSkid-marked drawersâ!â
Rubbing your temples, you hiss, âCan you both shut up before my brain actually liquifies?â
Namjoon flips Maya off before shuffling on the cushions again, getting comfortable.Â
Eyes falling shut, your head falls against the backrest. Much to your dismay, peace and tranquility donât find you. Nothing eases the weight on your shoulders, unanswered questions pestering you as the seconds tick by. Anxiety ceases your heart, claws so deep in the muscle, every beat propels fear further into the depths of your mind.
Maya breaks the silence. âSigh one more time, and Iâll throw the bowl at you.â
âMake sure to concuss me when you do,â you reply, turning to face her. âA really bad one.â
Namjoon offers, âJust ask Jin to go water-tubing.âÂ
âI want minor brain damage,â you clarify, baffled. âNot a death sentence.â
Seokjinâs Sandathlon challenges are full of ludicrous ideas that spark overachieving competitiveness among the lot. Water-tubing, dueling on large floaties, human bowling, and more activities that probably require a waiver.Â
âWeâre on a five-day bender,â Namjoon points, scoffing. âThat is a death sentence.â
âMaybe for you.â Maya plops a grape in her mouth. âIâm thriving.â
He cracks open an eye. âYou were sick less than half an hour ago.â
âIrrelevant.â
âSure.â
A familiar pattern of bickering falls among you, and this time, you welcome the nonsensical chatter. Better they disrupt your thoughts than you sit here pondering over an unsolvable riddle.
In the midst of their bickering, a familiar voice cuts through.Â
Jungkookâs voice calls, ââSup bitches.â
Namjoon groans. âShut up.â
Jungkook snorts, footsteps closer. âMorninâ to you, too, sunshine.â
Drink in hand, he rounds the couch until he stands in view. His eyes dart between you three, wincing at your expressions.
Last nightâs endless drinks had no effect on him. Dressed in a basic pair of swim trunks, tattoos on display, and a shit-eating grin curled on his lips, heâs put-together for someone who drank his weight in tequila last night.
âYou were worse off than us,â Namjoon points, watching Jungkook warily. âHow are you functioning?â
Jungkook shrugs. âOld ageâs catching up to you, bro.â
Namjoon raises a finger, and Jungkook snickers. âPiss off.â
Jungkookâs cup lifts in a mock toast. âHave any of you seen Tae? Iâm trying to recruit him.â
At the name, you tense, slouching into the couch. Focusing on the condensation running down his cup, you ignore the sharp, involuntary twist in your gut.
Namjoon asks, âRecruit him for what?â
âSandathlon,â Jungkook answers. âJinâs got a few partnered games, and I got a hundred riding on me winning this thing.â
âYouâre betting on yourself?â Maya asks, incredulous.
âConfidence, sweetheart,â Jungkook sings-songs. âSeokjin got lucky last year.â
Sandathlon brings out the worst in Jungkook.
His competitiveness amplifies during these games as though his dignity is at stake. Last year, he nearly won, and the loss still sours him. Awaiting today as much as Seokjin, his loss manifested as fuel for his desire for the title, Champion of Dunes.
âHavenât seen him since the morning,â you murmur, gaze falling astray. âProbably flirting with one of the girls.â
âReally?â Jungkook looks around, brows raised. âFucking finally. Heâs been dodging girls for months.â
You blink once. Twice.
âWhat?â
âYeah.â Jungkook scans the terrain for Taehyung. âHeâs turned down everyone I sent his way. Refuses to wingman me, too. Now, Iâm stuck with Park, and that bitch has no game.â
âTae goes out with you weekly.â Disbelief coats your tone. âHe comes back piss wasted every time, and I have to deal with it.â
âHe gets drunk,â Jungkook agrees with a shrug. âBut he hasnât given girls the time of day in a while.âÂ
Your brows furrow. âReally?â
âYou live with him,â Jungkook accuses. âWhenâs the last he brought someone over?â
Mouth flounders for a response, but you have none. Mainly becauseâwell. You canât remember the last he brought anyone home.
During the first few months, there was a routine. A warning text for your benefit. Sometimes it was as simple as donât come home yet. Other times, a sheepish maybe crash at Millieâs? followed by unnecessary emojis.
Cursing his rotating roster, you learned to avoid the house altogether when he was busy.
But recentlyâŚ
âHe could easily be going theirâs,â you counter with little conviction. âHe knows how I feel about strangers constantly at the house.â
âAnd how often has he been sleeping away from home?â Jungkook prods, brow arching. âHeâs rarely even crashed at mine and Jiminâs after a night out these last few months. Taeâs been bitchless since⌠for likeâŚâ
Jungkook lifts his fingers, trying to determine the time.
Frowning, youâre about to answer, but then you remember.
A month ago, when this foolish game became a battle of wills. A month ago, when Taehyung made that promise. He told you he hadnât been with anyone since youâsince the night he became a drug in your system. Youâd brushed it off, thinking nothing of it, refusing to acknowledge it as more.
Because otherwise itâs beenâ!
âTwo months.âÂ
Jungkookâs face pulls. âIâd go into cardiac arrest if I wasnât getting my dick wet for that long.â
Namjoon scoffs, nodding at Jungkookâs cup. âNot the inordinate amount of alcohol youâre drinking before noon?â
He shrugs. âFive PM somewhere.â
The conversation passes as a blur. Instead, your mindâs stuck on Taehyungâhis easy smiles, his quiet mornings, the way heâs been around more lately, lingering.
A question curls on your tongue, butâ!
âSANDAHOLICS UNITE!â
The voice booms through the air, cutting you off before you could begin. Seokjin, megaphone in hand, stands on a picnic table by the beach.
âDIVE INTO GLORY, OR WALLOW IN SANDY SHAME!â He turns dramatically, blonde hair glowing in the sun. âTIME HAS RISEN AND SANDATHLON SHALL COMMENCE AGAIN!â
Namjoon lifts onto his elbows, blinking slowly. âWhat is wrong with him?â
âEverything,â Maya mutters.
âNot that any of you will last that long,â Jungkook starts, stretching his arms overhead, âbut try not to get in my way. Iâm winning that crown this year.â
Your brow arches. âIt's a pink Dollarama tiara.â
âA crown is a crown.â He lifts a mock salute. âMay the best contender win.â
He skips down the patio steps towards Seokjin, preoccupied with untangling cords. Jungkook attempts one of his usual rage-baiting movesâa casual lean-in, a flash of teethâbut Seokjin dodges without sparing a glance, causing Jungkook to stumble.
You snort.
Maya hums, watching with thinly veiled appreciation. âIs it weird I found that hot?â
Namjoon deadpans, âYes.â
Outside, a crowd slowly gathers around Seokjin.Â
He relays the nonsense speech given every year at the start of Sandathlon, and you tune it out. Not even because you want to, there is simply no room for it when your mind lingers on a newfound fact.Â
Taehyung hasn't been with anyone since you.Â
Two months.Â
No one since you.Â
A silly string pulls in your heart, and among the anxious tension thatâs built in there since last night, something light and airy flutters. The riddle transfigures, a faint crack splintering across the maddening fear molded around your chest.
âTwo months is a long time.â Maya lifts a strawberry to the air. âWonder what thatâs about.â
âMaybe heâs not into pointless sex anymore,â Namjoon feeds.Â
âMaybe heâs interested in more,â Maya adds.Â
âMaybe heâs feeding all that energy into one person instead,â Namjoon continues.Â
âMaybeâ!â
âFor fucks sake,â you glower, âwill you both shut up?â
Maya and Namjoon grin.Â
The bud of hope blooms at an alarming rate. Maybe theyâre right. Maybe this isnât something disastrous sprouting in your head. Maybe his reaction from this morning wasnât from indifference or annoyance, but something else entirely. Something heavierâpersonal.
The possibility roots itself in your chest, fragile and trembling. Spreads like wildfire until it threatens to overtake every thought.
With it, your anxiety claws up to meet the flicker of hope. A terrible, dizzying collision because if youâre wrong, if youâve misread this, itâs not just embarrassment that follows. A deep pain that will gut and destroy you follows as well.Â
Despite that, you wonder: could he have been jealous?
Your heart stutters violently, betraying you before your mind catches up. Jealousy means wanting. Wanting means feeling.
And if he feelsâ!
Oh, God.
Every emotion youâve buriedâones you swore to keep locked away for sanityâs sakeâsuddenly swim towards the surface, all at once, demanding air.
Maya shifts to face you. âWhy are we fuck-ing?â
Namjoon pulls a face. âI - what?â
âSheâs fuck-ing.â
âNo.â He blinks. âSheâs not.â He seems appalled and exhausted. âDo you even know what that means?â
âYeah.â
He corrects, incredulous. âYou clearly fucking donât.â
Maya frowns. âWell, now youâre fuck-ingâ!â
âThat is not what fucking means!â
Maya crosses her arms. âA random man made the English language and created grammar. Who said I couldnât add to it?â
Before either of them can continue, the reason for your panic comes into view.Â
Air thickens.Â
Sun-kissed and smiling, he strides over to Seokjin, whoâs perched on the picnic table again. But itâs not the sight of him that shallows your breath.
Itâs the girl beside him. Â
Minji.
She who spent the night talking with him yesterday. Every time you found him, he was by her.
The burning twist in your chest isnât from the sight of her. Itâs the arm sheâs wrapped around familiarly that claws at you, because, of course, you were being ridiculous. How silly to doubt there could be more to thisâto you.
Hope collapses in one breath. Cold water floods your veins, and you release a humourless, brittle laugh. How pathetic to believe in otherwise, even momentarily, when you know Taehyung.Â
The silence around you is deafening. Maya and Namjoon have stopped talking.
Maya murmurs, âYou can keep fuck-ing.â
Namjoon doesnât bother to correct her.
By the early evening, youâre pretending not to be bothered.
You are unbothered.Â
With nothing but the sea breeze and the warmth of the sun kissing your skin, you are the picture-perfect definition of indifference. Unnecessary thoughts do not linger on your mind, irrelevant questions are not plaguing you, uncertainty is not washing over in relentless waves, drowning you.Â
No, youâre fine.Â
Perfectly, blissfully fuckingâ!
A deep laugh carries in the wind.
Warm. Familiar. Bothersome.
Curiosity turns your head to the source. Dark hair striking under the afternoon light, sun-kissed skin stretching over a frame you know well.Â
Taehyungâs favourite pastime today is ignoring you. In return, itâs been yours, too. Engaging in conversation with him after this morning doesnât interest you. After berating you for entertaining dates before proceeding to flirt audaciously with someone else.
More so, youâre annoyed that you believed otherwise for a second.
Heâs leaning against the rails of the patio. Minji stands beside him, her hand brushing his arm whenever she laughs. Â
This forces your gaze to the ocean. The rhythmic crashing against the shore should be calming, but the thud of his fingers against the metal rail rattles your skull.
âHey.â Yoongiâs voice cuts disrupts your thoughts. âYouâre being loud.â
Frowning, you ask, âWhat?â
He tugs the net rope, sighing. âYouâre practically screaming what you think.â
Rolling your eyes, you respond, âYou canât hear thoughts, Yoongs.â
âMaybe not,â he says, tying another knot. âBut yours are written all over your face.â
Fingers tightening around the rope, your frown deepens. âThey are not.â
He secures a final knot before his eyes flick towards you with a calm, unreadable gaze.
Easily, he states, âYouâre jealous.â
The rope slips from your grip. âWhatâ!â You scramble to stop the loosening knot. âFuck.â
He doesnât move to help, just watches with faint amusement.
Muttering a curse under your breath, you retie the cord. The sun is hot on your shoulders, and the sound of deep laughter continues to drift in the air.
Out of all the ridiculous Sandathlon games Seokjinâs concocted, this one is the least devious. A well-loved game of beach volleyball. He claims it balances the chaos; you argue itâs because half the group is bruised from earlier, and the other wants an excuse to throw things at each other.
âIâm not jealous.â You frown. âWhy would I be jealous?â
Yoongi glances at the figures further back. âDid you fight?â
âNo.â
His lips quirk. âYou did.â
âWe didnât fight,â you reiterate, finishing your knot. âWeâre fine. Heâs just doing what he always does. Canât you tell when Taehyungâs trying to get his dick wet?â
âI can,â Yoongi huffs. âAnd it looks nothing like that.â
Confusion flickers on your face. âWhat?â
âJealousy's making you blind.â
âIâm notâ!â
âThey wouldnât still be chatting if he was interested.â Yoongi strides towards you. âPatience isnât his strong suit.â
âTaehyung lives for the chase,â you counter, crossing your arms. âHeâs dragging it out to enjoy it more.â
Yoongi arches a brow. âMinjiâs been nothing but obvious about what she wants. Not much of a chase, is it?â
Mouth shut, you merely blink.
Yoongi is perceptive, insightful, and infuriatingly right. Minji has been obvious about her intentions. And when someone reveals interest in Taehyungâmutual interest, it goes only one way.Â
He doesnât wait, doesnât linger. He actsâfast, precise, and direct. Youâve seen it with others. Heâs done it with you, bringing every thought to existence once his mind is made.Â
âFinally clocked it, have you?â Yoongi smirks. âTook you long enough.â
Huffing, you say, âI am not easy to read.â
Yoongi shrugs. âYou are when it comes toâ!â
âY/N!â
A familiar voice calls.Â
Yoongiâs voice cuts off as both of your attention turns to the house. Taehyung whips in the direction of the voice, too, despite mid-conversation with Minji metres away from the source.Â
By your room balcony, stands Maya.Â
She waves an article of clothing in the air. Squinting, you focus on the material andâ!
You choke on your breath. âIs - is that lingerie?â
âWhyâs she waving it around?â Yoongi frowns, confused. âJinâs not even here to see it.â
âShame. He wouldâveâ!â Words cease to exist as the flimsy, sheer bodysuit finally registers. âWhat the fuck.â
Heat rises to your cheeks, and you make haste towards the house. Several thoughts whip through your mind, but with each step, one thing is clear: you know that set of lingerie.
You own that set.Â
What the fuck is it doing here?Â
Smiling brightly, she asks, âCan I borrow your white bikini?â
Eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, you struggle for words. âThat is not a bikini, Maya!â
âI got it from your bag, though.â Maya, a picture of innocence, gazes at the material in her hands and feigns shock. âOh. Sorry. I thought it was a bikini.â
âITâS A BODYSUITâ?!â
Feigning confusion, she frowns. âWhyâd you pack lingerieâ?â The material slips from her hands. âWhoops.â
Part of you wants to scream. Part of you wants to bury your head in the sand. And part of you realizes your best friend is deviously cunning because sheâs packed your skimpiest lingerie without your knowledge.
Maybe she did it in case you got dicked down this weekend. Or maybe, sheâs the universe's right-hand woman and prepared for this exact moment.Â
Your lingerie, landing right in front of Taehyung.Â
For a moment, the world stills. Everything blends into nothing; attention focused on just him. Slowly, he lifts the material, gaze tracing every line and pattern.Â
Noticing your approaching figure, his gaze locks with yours. It presses against your neural circuit, sparking the thread of connections like a live wire. He watches with a look so piercing, anyone could read the intent behind it.Â
âIâ!â Words fail you miserably. âCan youâ!â
Taehyung remains perfectly still. He hasnât moved a muscle, yet the way his gaze darkens leaves you breathless. Heat prickles beneath your skin, adding more threads to the cord thatâs been weaving together for the past month.Â
Minjiâs gaze flickers to the set held oddly delicate in his hand.Â
âItâs super cute, girl,â Minji comments, unaware of the buildingtension. âWhereâd you get it?â
âI, uhâŚâ Blinking, your eyes glance towards her. âBluebella.â
Minji gushes, oblivious, âThey have such good sets there.â
Agreement forms as a weak hum. Your attention barely stays on her, drawn to Taehyung.
His stare is impossibly darkâdangerous, licking the base of your spine.Â
Every nerve flickers with anticipation, thrill shooting through you as a pleasant shock. Rationality disappears, instinct operating the network of nerves that feel bare from the heat of his desire, keenly aware of his every breath.
Intent to ruin you, he moves.
His thumb grazes over the front of the fabric, slow and deliberate. Right where the sheer material would rest against your nipple. Dragging roughly. Intentional. Torturously hot.
Your knees threaten to buckle. For a moment, everything elseâthe sun, the sand, Minjiâs chatterâvanishes, leaving only the heat of his stare and the ghost of his touch.
ââhave to check out more of their stuff.â Minjiâs voice brings you to reality.
âHuh?â You blink. âOh. Yeah. Definitely.â
Minji merely smiles. At least you didnât miss anything important.Â
Hand outreaching, you command, âGive it.â
Taehyung murmurs. âDemanding.â Â
A flicker of recklessness ignites. âNot yours now, is it?â
He tongues the inside of his cheek at the card you dealt. A dangerous play, but the thrill of excitement clouds all judgmentâurging you to side against caution.
Slowly, the fabric falls into your palm. Lace brushes your skin, soft to the touch, but the slight graze of his fingers spreads like wildfire.Â
He muses, âWouldnât hurt to be polite.âÂ
A quiet scoff, fist curling into the fabric. âIâm nice when I wanna be.â
His gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips, then down further. His thoughts are loud, imagining how the sheer material would kiss the curves of your body.Â
Low, he says, âYouâll have to show me.â
Pulse thundering, you swallow. âIâm not feeling nice.â
His voice is sinful. âShow me that, too.â
A shiver crawls up from the base of your spine. His real intentions are not lost on you, and you donât check to see if the same applies to Minji. Instead, you turn to skid up the stairs, failing to ignore his lingering gaze.
Dark, molten eyes follow until the wall finally provides shelter. But even then, the heat of his gaze lingers, seared onto your skin.
Air ceases to fill your lungs fully until you find your room. The door shuts with a soft thud, knees giving out. Dragging in a shaky breath, your back presses against the frame, blinking out of the daze.
Maya sits on the edge of your bed, a sly smile adorning her lips. âHowâd it go?â
Floundering, a string of broken words comes out. âI - it - youâ!â Closing your eyes, you exhale. âFuck you.â
Her smile only widens. âIâm so winning that bet.â
Surviving the remainder of the day is worse than Sandathlonâs chaos. Â
Anticipation courses through you in a steady stream since your conversation with Taehyung.
Concern is lulled by everything around you. The alcohol in your system tells you to fuck it; the music blares so loudly you can barely think; the sea breeze so refreshing, it dares you to make reckless decisions.
Irritation from this morningâs argument hums in the air, but it doesnât dissuade you from the excitement of the game. Brushing past him when you donât need to, tossing double-entendre responses, matching his fervent gaze with your own.
Each move is a silent dare, a calculated provocation.
He matches the cards you play with his own, though, far more childishly.Â
Anger and frustration gather in every interaction, but fuel the cord of tension threatening to snap. Jealousy, as stupid as it feels, consumes you as he basks in Minjiâs attention. Yet, he revels in the spark of irritation within your gaze whenever he catches you looking.
Heâs more interested in youâyour attentionâthan the girl beside him. He knows how it undoes you. He knows how it lures your thoughts to him. He baits intentionally, provoking your irritation to match his.
And, infuriatingly, a traitorous part of you enjoys it.
Enjoys that he registers you searching for him before you realize where your gaze lifts to. Enjoys the small heat lingering behind his otherwise masked features.Â
Enjoys the thrill.
Youâve played this game too longâtoo willingly, you donât believe yourself when you say this isnât what you want anymore.
Namjoon presses the wound with a disinfectant wipe, pulling you from your thoughts with a hiss.
âSorry.â
Sucking a breath, you grit, âLiar.â
He smirks. âYouâre right.â
There are perks to being friends with a student nurse.
Mainly because you harass him regarding all your healthcare needs, even if he unhelpfully answers that heâs not a doctor. However, moments like theseâwhere youâre injured and need medical attention for broken glass piercing your legâNamjoon eases your worries before they become debilitating. Skillfully patching things whilst also soothing your anxiety with a few jokes.Â
He sits on the stool in front of you with calm, capable focus. He doesnât even flinch at the sight of blood.Â
Gazing down, you ask, âDoes this mean I canât swim?â
He doesnât look up. âFlesh-eating bacteria is pretty deadly.â
Your jaw drops. âJoonie, I canât be at the beach and not swim.â
âThen donât fall on glass.â
During a late game of volleyball, you dove for a save, only to crash into a few empty bottles left near the net. Sharp edges of shattered glass sliced your skin before you even realized. The sand coated with your blood instantly, the multiple cuts and relentless bleeding worrying.
Namjoon immediately brought you back inside to the downstairs washroom. He took a quick look at all the cuts, none needing stitches, and became a master at work.Â
Snorting, you answer, âYour medical training would go to waste then.â
He presses the antiseptic against your wound with more pressure, and you yelp.Â
âOw!â You twist your leg in his lap. âWhat theâ!â
âY/N? Y/Nâ!â
Taehyung bursts through the washroom door, voice cutting off when he finds you. Namjoon and you blink at the frantic look on his face. His gaze trails over your body before landing on the wounds along your calf.Â
âUh, hey,â you manage.Â
His gaze doesnât falter from your injuries. âYou - your leg.â
Fingers brushing the edges of the wounds, the corner of your lip lifts. âLooks a lot worse than it feels.â
âThere was blood all over the sand.â His lips press together. âEven a trail of blood leading to the washroom. Iâd say those are pretty bad cuts.â
Brows pulling with concern, he closes the distance. He scans the medical supplies around you, crumpled cotton balls with dried blood resting on the counter or mindlessly discarded on the floor.
Namjoon tosses a crumpled package into the trash. âShe doesnât need stitches,â he says, glancing at Taehyung. âItâs all superficial - no foreign bodies, no deep tissue involvement. I just finished cleaning them.â
Taehyung nods, still focused on your wounds. âOkay.â
Namjoon reaches for a bandage, tone wry. âNow letâs get this covered before you make it worse.â
Rolling your eyes, you start, âI would notâ!â
âI can do it,â Taehyung interrupts, glancing at Namjoon. âItâs just bandages, right?â
Namjoon blinks. âUh. Yeah.â
Taehyung nods, more certain. âIâll do it.â
Namjoon glances at you, and you merely nod.
âCool.â Namjoon sets the material on the counter beside you. âEverythingâs here or in the bag.â He stands, beginning to walk away. âShout if you need me.â
He leaves without sparing another glance. Taehyung takes a seat on the stool in front of you, gently resting your leg on his lap.Â
He grabs the package of bandages. âDoes it hurt?â
âA little,â you answer, shrugging. âBut Iâll be fine.â
He nods once.
Positioning the bandage over the cuts, he ensures they rest flush against your skin. His movements are confident and sure, whereas his touch is tentative and gentle, worried the lightest graze may hurt.
Breaking the silence, he says, âThere was a lot of blood outside.â
âYeah.â A laugh escapes you. âI was scared Iâd need stitches.â
His muscles tense, eyes fixed on your leg as he finishes patching you up. When the last of your wounds is covered, his fingers brush down to your ankle, lingering.
Earlier today, his presence sent you on a lust-induced frenzy. However, the air is thick with something quiet and heavy. No room for teasing or playful banter here; every movementâevery touch full of concern.
Tentatively, you ask, âIs everything alright?â
He doesnât answer.Â
âTaehyung?â
âI was worried,â he admits, thumb brushing your ankle. âHoseok said you were hurt, and then I saw how much blood there was. Maya was saying something, but I just ran up here. I was so fucking worriedâ!â
âTae.â
Slowly, his head rises. There are remnants of fear in his eyes, tugging your heart.Â
âIâm sorry for scaring you,â you murmur, smiling softly. âIâm fine, though. Iâm alright.â
He studies you carefully. âYou swear.â
âI promise.â
A long breath escapes him, relief slouching his shoulders as his forehead rests against your opposite knee.
Inky hair brushes your skin, soft and damp from the ocean. Fingers itch to run through the strands while you whisper everythingâs okay. But you donâtâcanât. Not when it gives shape to something youâve been told doesnât exist. Forces you to acknowledge the bud that sprouted and grew delicately around your heart, along with the thorns of anxiety.Â
Blurring the lines of what is real and what is not.
His breath is warm against your skin, grounding and dangerous all at once. The silence stretches, comforting as the night breeze seeps past the windows. Beneath it, however, the tension, the fear, the pull you keep trying to ignore festers.
âYou can head back down,â you murmur, pretending indifference. âIâll clean up here.â
âIâll help,â he says, rising to his feet. âYou should lay off that until it heals more.â
âItâs fine,â you brush off, reaching for the first-aid kit. âPlus, Minjiâs going to be worried sick if youâre not glued to her hip in the next second.â
He pauses. âMinji?â
Focus on the floor, you continue, âAll I ask is you donât fuck in the shower.â
He blinks. âYou think Iâm going to fuck Minji?â
Confused by his tone, you hesitate. âWhy else would you be flirting with her?â
His silence sparks your anxiety, teeth catching your bottom lip. You become hyperaware of your pounding heart, the sting of your wounds.
You scramble to explain. âYouâve spent the entire day with her. You were flirting with her last night. I donât get why you canât spend more than a second apart, but game is gameâ!â
âY/N.â
Unrelenting, you continue, âBut, seriously, if you fuck her in the washroom, I will pluck your eyebrows.â
His lips twitch, a hint of laughter. âY/N.â
Dread creeps up your spine. âDonât tell me youâve already done it in the shower.â
âNo,â he says, amusement tugging his mouth. âI havenât fucked her. Minji and Iâ!â
A hand raises, eyes shut. âI really donât want to know.â
âAre you jealous?â
Eyes snapping open, youâre rendered speechless. Mouth floundering for a response, you blink. His gaze is unwavering, tone maddeningly calm.Â
âI - no,â you stammer, heat crawling up your neck. âThatâs not - Iâm notâ!â You swallow hard, brows knitting together. âYouâre being ridiculous.â
A slow, knowing smirk curves his lips. âSo you are.â
Defensively, your arms cross. âWhat about you?â you shoot, desperate to redirect. âAs if you werenât jealous of Damon.â
âYouâre right.â
âWhat?â
âI was jealous,â he confirms, voice steady. âPissed. Annoyed. I donât even know what he looks like, but he fucking irritates me.â
The words hang heavy in the air, sinking like warmth and warning all at once. You canât look away from him, canât move, canât breathe.
A shallow breath. âW-why?â
He swallows, gaze unwavering. âI donât like that youâre seeing other people.â
âYou spent the entire day with someone else.â A frown finds your lips. âLast night, you were flirting with a dozen others. You donât get to say that and act however youâd like.â
âI know.â His fingers rake through his hair, frustration bleeding into his voice. âYouâre right. Iâm sorry. I used Minji as a distraction. Figured if youâre seeing others, I should, too. It was stupid and childish, and - it didnât work.â
Hesitant, you press, âA distraction from what?â
âThinking about you with other people - with Damon.â His gaze flickers between your eyes. âI just - shit, I was upset and wanted to make you jealous.â
The admission lingers in the air, raw and unguardedâa truth that shouldâve surfaced long ago. Something in you loosens, a knot inside your chest gently unwinding.
Softly, you say, âIâm not seeing anyone else.â
He blinks, stunned. âWhat?â
âI havenât seen anyone.â Fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt. âNot since that day.âÂ
That day.
The one that started this all; your slow, deliberate descent into the inevitable.Â
For a moment, there is nothing beyond the steady beat of your heart. Relief so palpable, it rises in the air. Honesty that dissolves the frustration and tension built from the past day. Unspoken words floating delicately in the air, curling into your lungs and breathing life into hope.Â
Taehyung hesitates. âSo, youâre not going to see Damon?â
âNot interested.â You shake your head. âI wasnât even considering it.â
He nods. âI wasnât going to fuck Minji.âÂ
âI didnât ask.â Arms crossed, you frown. âYou can do as you please.â
âOkay. Then - I want you to know.â He smiles at the small act of indifference. âNothing happened between us. Nothing will. I donât want her.â
Another strand loosens, the anxiety surrounding your heart slowly dissolving. His words release a tension thatâs been weighing on you for hours, worries that have gnawed you relentlessly.Â
That mere thought awakens a different sort of irritation.
Eyes narrowed, you ask, âYou flirt for sport, then?â
His eyes widen briefly before releasing a small laugh. âSorry.â He shakes his head, fingers in his hair. âItâs justâ!â A grin. âItâs nice knowing you hate seeing me with other people, too.â
Stunned, you stutter, âI - I didnât say that!â
His smile doesnât waver. âYou donât have to.â
Immediately, you protest, âI donât care if youâre with other people.âÂ
He hums, maddeningly calm. âSure.â
âI donât!â
âOkay.â
A frustrated sound tears from you. âTaehyung!â
âI donât believe you.â He steps away from your half-hearted swat. âBut keep going, I like this version of you. Itâs endearing.â
Again, your brain momentarily short-circuits, as if heâs rewriting the faulty wiring. Because now thereâs this fluttery, breath-catching lightness in your chest, one that never existed to this intensity before.Â
Your convictionâs diminished. âI am not endearing.â
âNot at all.â He shakes his head, solemnly. âYouâre right. Youâre ridiculously jealous, and I love it.â
âI am notâ!â
Taehyung steps further away. âEven your denial is so cute.âÂ
âI am not in denial, you little shit.â Standing on your feet, he watches you adjust your weight on your injured leg. âGet back here. Hey - wait! Stop! Iâm injured, I canât chase you.â
He stalks away, a gleeful smile on his lips. âYouâre especially cute when youâre annoyed.â
Irritated, you grit, âI swear to fucking Godâ!â
He clutches his heart. âItâs like music to my ears.â
ââIâm going to shove a broken bottle up your ass.â
A sound so mellifluous escapes him, boxy grin so contagious that your own becomes increasingly difficult to suppress.
âI think I just came in my pants.â
âTaehyung!â
The next day, there is a palpable shift in the air.
Subtle, but undeniable.
Perched on the counter whilst Taehyung makes pancakes for lunch, something sweet lingers in the air. Sweeter than the scent of warm vanilla and browned butter.
Golden afternoon light spills into the kitchen, catching the steam rising from the pan. Quiet familiarity hums in the air; the clatter of cutlery, the faint buzz of music from his phone, the easy rhythm of two people whoâve slipped into a habit.Â
When you glance up, Taehyungâs already watching you. âCan I have a bite?â
âNo.â Pulling a face, you nod to the pile of pancakes by the stove. âThatâs yours.â
He steps towards you. âYours look better.â
Incredulous, your brows furrow. âThey look the same.â
âYou want more?â He arches a threatening brow, shutting your mouth. âGive me a bite.â
He steps closerâso close in your space, the argument dies on your tongue.
Frowning, you cut a bite. âThis is the greed they talk about in the bible.â
He leans in, smiling victoriously. As he takes a bite, syrup pools on the corner of his lips and slowly trails down his chin.
âShit.â A snicker escapes whilst you grab a napkin. âHold still.â
Without thinking, you pull him closer, steadying his chin with one hand while dabbing at the syrup with the other. He doesnât complain, moving naturally into the space between your thighs, close enough the warmth of him seeps through your clothes.
âOpen wide next time,â you tease, wiping carefully. âNow look at you. Youâre a mess.â
He hums. âJust how I like.â
You shoot him a look. âDonât be gross.â
He chuckles, fingertips brushing the bare skin of your thigh.
Yesterdayâs conversation nudged open a door once wedged shut.
Taehyungâs smiles are different, yet entirely the same. Curled with a fonder edge you never registered before. More weight rests with his teasing, a sharper intimacy to his words. Everything is more intentional, no longer just playful.
âWhy am I even doing this?â you mutter, half amused, half exasperated. âYouâve got hands.â
He closes his eyes, lips curving. âYou seem to enjoy it.â
âDone.â A lone streak catches your attention. âWait. Here,â âyou swipe your thumb across the corner of his lipsâ âokay. Now, doneâ!â
Your words catch.
Your thumbâs caught between his lips, tongue swiping your skin before sucking the pad of your thumb clean. His eyes lock on yours, teasing and light, as he releases your finger with a soft, wet pop.
His eyes flicker between yours. âYou taste sweet.âÂ
Throat tight, you murmur, âItâs the syrup.â
âThat so?â
Your gaze falls to his lipsâsoft, plush, invitingâbefore darting back up to meet his eyes.
Fingers resting against your hips, he gently squeezes. Hands pressed lightly against his chest, your fingers curl into the soft material of his shirt. His eyes drop to your mouth, and the air shifts.Â
Breathing becomes difficult.
As the world narrows to the warmth of him, realization dawns on you. Despite the months of teasingâdespite knowing the weight of him, the warmth of his breath against your skinâyou donât know the sweetness of his kiss. How his lips would slot against yours, the slow drag of his tongue.Â
You can taste the moment before it happens, before the distance disappears entirelyâ!
Footsteps round the corner, and you jump, instinctively pushing Taehyung away. Jimin greets you both, hair mussed with sleep. He doesnât seem to register the lingering sweetness in the air, focused on pouring himself a coffee.Â
Whilst your heart hammers beneath your chest, Taehyung begrudgingly finds his spot by the stove again.
The rest of the day passes like this. Orbits colliding and drifting apart, tugging closer and snapping back again. Itâs only a matter of time before you crash.
And what a day for it.
After your injury, Sandathlon was postponed.
There was supposed to be a water-gun fight between Namjoon and Jungkook. A final battle between those with the most points. Except, the next day, everyone is re-energized, demanding to join rather than watch the two have all the fun. Meaning youâre dragged into the chaos, rather than where your mind and body urge you towardsâTaehyung.
Instead, the winning team earns the respected title of Champions of Dunes.Â
Deciding to proceed with the duel at night, anticipation builds for the final game. As time nears, everyone uses whatever can be found. Couch cushions, beach chairs, umbrellas, pool floatiesâeverything is used to build an obstacle course in the sand. Capture the flag, but with a sandcastle that must be defended or destroyed.
Pledging your alliance to Namjoon, you help create his sandcastle. However, hours spent crouching leave your wounded leg sore. Not wanting to do more harm, you decide against participating in the actual game.Â
Long after the sun sets, teams gather. Namjoonâs team gathers on the left side of the beach, consisting of Hoseok, Jimin, Sana, and Zoe. On the opposite end, Jungkookâs team gathersâYoongi, Maya, Minji, and Taehyung.
From your balcony, you have a birds-eye view of everything. Moonlight shining brightly, everyone takes position. Although they're still far enough away, you cannot fully tell who is who.Â
A knock redirects your attention.Â
Taehyung stands, leaning against the balcony frame, and you double-take.
âWhatâre you doing here?â you ask, jerking a thumb to the beach. âYouâre supposed to be playing.â
âSwitched with Seokjin,â he answers easily. âHe took my spot. Mind if I join?â
âI donât know. What do I gain fromâ!â He lifts a bottle of your favourite drink, and your voice cuts. âPlease, take a seat. I insist.â
Taehyung passes the bottle with a chuckle as he sits beside you on the couch.
Taking a swing, you hiss at the bitter taste, but welcome it.Â
Below, chaos unfolds. Jungkookâs course of orders blares through a plastic megaphone; Namjoon rallies his team with hand gestures that make zero sense; Seokjin runs around in the inflatable shark and still manages to stand tall.
Taehyung and you erupt into laughter every few seconds, watching their interestingly competitive game. As conversation flows, however, the rest of the world blurs. Lit softly in moonlight, everything ceases to matter.
âRemember when we met?â you ask, facing him. âLike, first met. We downed all of Seokjinâs infamous jello shots.â
Taehyung snorts. âInfamous for giving me the worst hangover of my life.â
âRight!â You laugh. âWhat were we thinking?â
Fondness curls the corner of his smile. âI doubt Iâd have let you move in with me if I hadnât met you then.â
Brows furrow, confused. âYou needed a new roommate.â
âI did.â He nods. âI just didnât mention I was considering someone else.â
This new information renders you speechless. Taehyung told you he was still searching for someone that night. After the unforeseen slap of an eviction notice, you thought the universe sent a saving grace. Â
âWho?â
âJimin.â
You blink. âWhat?âÂ
âI had a crush on you.â He glances from the corner of his eye. âFrom the first night we spoke. I donât think I laughed that hard in my life.â
A small laugh escapes you. âAlcohol makes everything funny.â
âMaybe,â Taehyung concedes, smiling softly. âStill had a crush on you, anyway. And then we barely spoke after, and I thought you had this thing with Joonâ!â
âWith Joon?!â you screech. âEw, ew, ew. Gross - no. Why would you put that in my head?â
He laughs. âYeah, I figured that out eventually. But then you showed up at that bar, sobbing about an eviction notice, and I thought,â âhe tilts his head, looking over youâ âif Iâve laughed so much and weâve barely ever spoken, imagine how much fun living with this girl could be.â
Everything stills, left speechless and hypnotized. A perspective of how things had played out from his point of view, a story you never thought you needed to know. Except, now that you do, you realize how much it means.
Was any of this just a game?
Hesitantly, you ask, âDid I live up to the expectations?â
âAnd then some.â
For months, the tide has been pulling you in, and youâve stopped resisting the current. Teetering on the edge of something for so long, you barely noticed when the slow descent toward this warmth began. Neither willing to push the other further, youâve taken months tip-toeing around each other, using a game to mask the feelings brewing beneath.
Yet, the universe kept tilting more. Pushing for that last breathâthat last look to guide you into embracing whatâs found a home in your chest.
Fear doesnât find you when the world finally tilts off its axis completely. In fact, youâve never felt more grounded in your life.
âTaehyung?â
âHm.â
With a soft clank, the empty bottle settles on the ground. âDo you remember your promise?â
He glances, cozily sunk into the cushions. âI promise a lot of shitâ!â
You sit straighter. âAbout how youâd fuck me.â
Seconds pass as eons.
His gaze says he doesnât believe his ears, but he finds the confirmation he needs on your face.Â
He watches, dark and disbelieving. âYeah.â
âYouâd said youâd ruin me,â you remind, voice low. âNever really got the details on how.â
Gaze hooded, he searches, âWhy suddenly curious?â
âMight convince me if itâs worth it.â
âThat so?â
Heart leaping, you make the first daring move. Ever so slowly, you move closer until youâre seated on his lap, straddling him. His fingers rest on your hips, but do nothing; instead, his eyes trail the slow motion of your hands coming to rest against his chest.
âIâve been keeping track,â he says, low. âEvery time you push, every time you tease. Iâm making a tally in my head.â
âFor what?â
âHow many times Iâll deny you an orgasm.â Vulgar, brazen, and completely unexpected. âYouâd look so pretty spread open for me - crying. Begging to finally cum.â His words are a promise searing into your skin. âWhy donât you finally let go?â
Involuntarily, your thighs spread open, settling deeper in his lap. âAnd lose?â
Smirking, his gaze falls at the motion. âYouâre not lasting much longer.â
âWanna know what I think?â
âEnlighten me.â
âYou spent an entire month resisting me, but since weâve been here, youâve been losing your restraint,â you murmur, tilting your head. âI think youâre not lasting much longer.â
He huffs a laugh. âI didnât hold out this long to break first.â
âI didnât either.â Your voice is low and certain. âUnless you beg.â
Heâs suddenly pulling you closer, and your hands brace on his chest from the momentum. âBeg?â Fingers trace the ridges of your spine. âIs that what you want? Me to tell you how much I dream about your sweet cunt?â
A month of his silence made you forget heâs good at this for a reason. How easily he unravels you with a few filthy words.
âI still remember the taste of you.â His lips brush your neck, feather-light. âRemember how greedy you were for my fingers, taking them so well.â
A shaky breath. âTaehyung.â
âWant me to beg to have a taste again?â The words are molten heat down your spine. âWant me to beg to see you take my fingers?â At your breathy silence, he pushes, âAnswer me.â
Heâs trying to break you, coaxing submission. Desperate to shed his thinly held restraint, he bends the rules of his promise to tempt you. Heâs maddeningly persuasive, but underestimates how much you enjoy him being as bothered as you.
You tilt his chin to meet your gaze. âWanna hear you beg me to take your cock,â you answer, eyes fluttering. âBeg to have me full of you."
His gaze hardens. âYouâre playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.âÂ
Despite the fire licking under your skin, a small, satisfied smile tugs your lips. âI learn from the best.â
A breathless chuckle rumbles from his chest. His forehead rests on your shoulder, collecting himself.Â
âYou know how hard itâs been not to touch you?â he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin. âEvery time you push, all I see is your mouth wrapped around my cock. All I want is to make a mess of you - filthy and full of me.â Heat stirs your core. âBut I didnât wait this long just to break first, Y/N.â
A puff of air. âNot sure if youâve noticed, but Iâm pretty good at this game.â
Teeth graze your ear. âI can tell.â
Leaning away, he watches the rise and fall of your chest. Neither of you has properly touched the other, his bruising grip and your shallow breaths the only proof of the restraint to not do so.
And, so, you decide to break the rules.
âYou can make this easier for us, Taehyung.â Your lips find his ear. âAll you have to do is give,â âa hand slides down his chest, further, further until they land on his crotchâ âin.â
Applying the right pressure to stir him, you nip the curve of his ear, smiling. He hisses, fingers digging deeper.
Giggling, you murmur, âYouâre already so hard.â
âYeah, well.â His breaths are shaky. âYouâre practically fucking naked on my lap.â
Merely wearing an undone button-up and a bikini, heâs not wrong. Pressing feather-like kisses against his jaw, you trail a path to his pulse. Nipping the sensitive skin under his ear, you apply more pressure to the bulge in his sweats, humming when it twitches to your touch.
His voice is hoarse. âY/N.â
âHm.â
âIf youâre gonna touch me,â he starts, guiding your face from his neck, âitâs only fair I do the same.â
Heart thundering, your gaze flickers between his. An unspoken truth lingers between you; one way or the other, someone will give in tonight. Itâs a matter of who.Â
You shed the button-up, and his eyes darken. Agonizingly slow, you tug one of the strings holding your bikini together. He tracks the next smooth motion to undo the final strands around your neck. The material falls between you, but he doesnât care.
A shudder ripples through him at the sight of your breasts, nipples pebbled.
Confidence swells at the desire swirling behind his eyes. Bringing a single hand to cup a breast, you close a forefinger and thumb around the waiting nub.
A rough exhale. âFuck.â
Kneading the other breast, you murmur, âBothered?â
He then leans closer, pressing butterfly kisses against your neck. âYou sure you wanna play this?â
Eyes falling shut, you breathe, âYes.â
His lips trail to your collarbone, fingers sliding up your waist until his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts. Inching forward, your hips replace the hand resting on his crotch, rolling your clothed cunt against him. He groans as a jolt of electricity ignites at the friction against your clit.Â
âPositive?â He licks up the valley between your breasts. âWeâre in public.â
âHavenât you done this before?â
He pulls back. âYou havenât.â
Caught off guard, you blink.
A glance over your shoulder confirms your friends are still busy playing. Nothing lights the balcony, overhead of clouds dimming the moonlight. Â
âYeah.â You nod. âIâm positive.â
He nods, hands sliding up and down your waist. âYou can change your mind anytime.â
âOkay.â You smile, fingers curling into his hair. âNow - do your worst.â
A dark chuckle. âI wonât hold back.â
âGood.â
He leans down, holding your gaze. Tongue flicking a perked nipple, you shudder on top of him. Smirking, his undivided attention turns to your breast, mouth wrapping around your areola.
A moan escapes you, eyes rolling back. Arching into his touch, you tug his hair. He hums his assent, spare hand going to knead the other breast.Â
His mouth is as skillful with your tits as they were with your cuntâwicked and sinful. Heâs intent on devouring you, replacing every thought with him. His touch. His lips. His tongue.Â
A particular swirl of his tongue leaves you cursing. âFuck.â
He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting him to the perked bud. At the sight, a coil tightens deep inside.Â
âSo fucking responsive,â he muses, fingers brushing up your spine. âAlmost like you didnât want me to stop.â
Breathing heavy, you challenge, âYou might be hearing things.â
âIs that right?â He smiles at the challenge. âLetâs try again.â
His mouth finds the other mound, pressing against the swell of it. Kneading the other breast, he pinches the bud between his thumb and index finger. A small pain elicits when he tugs on it, but it adds to your pleasure.
Moaning, you pull at the strands by the base of his neck. As his tongue swirls against your nipple, your hips find a familiar pattern against his, desperate for friction.Â
He pulls back, tugging the nub with him until it lets go with a wet pop. The image is so obscene, so indecent, it fuels the burning fire. Large hands firmly squeeze your breasts, yours resting atop his, encouraging him. A whimper escapes as he pinches both buds, arching to the touch.
âLook at you,â he muses. âGrinding against my dick.â
âYou arenât, ah, doing anything,â you taunt. âHad to do something about it.â
His gaze hardens, hands falling to your hips. Without warning, he pulls you further into him as he rolls his hip strategically against yours.Â
At the newfound friction, your breath catches. âOh - fuck.â
âIâve barely started,â he says. âJust a lick here,â âhis tongue flicks your nippleâ âa kiss here,â âhe turns to the other, wrapping his mouth around it againâ âand youâre putty on my lap.â
âTae, ah, fuckâ!â
His teeth graze the swell of your breast. âBarely done a thing and youâre already so pretty and fucked out.â
He doesnât look any different. Cheeks red, pupils blown, and lips parted, he as fucked as you feel.
âBet Iâd look prettier,â âyou roll your hips against him, hardâ âfull of your cock.â
He groans, eyes closing momentarily. âFuck.â
Finding your gaze again, his hand smacks against your ass. A gasp flees you, fingers digging into his shoulders at the impact. He kneads the muscle, massaging it through the sting.Â
âDirty fucking mouth,â he muses, chafed. âDo you know how many times Iâve dreamt about it?â A hand comes to your cheek, thumb rough against your bottom lip. âJerked off to the memory every time you set me off.â
A sly smile. âMustâve been a lot.â
âToo many.â His hand slithers to wrap around your neck. âTook everything not to bend you and fuck you over every piece of furniture.â
âFuck,â you breathe, lashes fluttering. âWhyâd you put that image in my head?â
He takes in every microexpression you make. âBothered, are we?â
âNo.â
âLiar.â
He sucks and nips at your neck. Granting him more access, your head tilts to the side. You catch the reflection of yourself in the balcony window. Completely fucked out with your gaze half-lidded and lips parted as he elicits a whimper from you.
âLike that?â he asks, trailing kisses across your skin. âLike me marking you for everyone to see. Want everyone to know what youâve been up to?â
You whimper, âTaeâ!â
His hips roll against you with purpose. âYou donât care if someone sees you grinding on my lap, do you?â His brows furrow in concentration. âNo, you want them to see.â
Lips parted, you suck in a breath. âFuck - ngh.â
âWant them to see how desperate you are for my touch.â Hands skim the edges of your body. âFor my lips.â Lips press against your pulse. âMy cock.âÂ
Every passing secondâevery ministrationâchallenges your restraint. Instinct and desire overwhelm you with every act he does upon you.
âAm I right?â
âYou,â you correct, lashes fluttering. âWant them to see how desperate I am for you.â
For a moment, he merely watches, a slow smile finding his lips. âAre you, pretty?â At the pet name, your heart soars. âYou desperate for me?âÂ
âY-yes.â
He chuckles, fingers trailing down your bare thighs. âMy, my. How honest we are. I almost feel compelled to reward you.â
Heat courses through you adamantly. âPlease.â
âMaybe Iâll fuck you where everyone can see.â Taehyung's grin is wicked. âOr - maybe Iâll eat you out. Have you come on my mouth over and over until Iâm sated.â He cocks his head. âWhat do you think?â
âAll of it.â Eyes trailing over his face, your chest heaves. âLet them see what a mess I am for you.â
He smirks, fingers curling under the band of your bottoms, snapping it against your skin. âYouâd love that, wouldnât you?â A hand trails further down, inching towards your core. âLove having everyone see how much of a slut you can be.â
A single finger presses against your clothed slit. Your hips jerk at the contact, seeking more.Â
âTaehyung, ah, pleaseâ!â
âToo bad.â He pulls away. âYou need to earn it.â
His hands return to your hips, gaze hard and unforgiving. You blink, confused. Frustration builds within you, worked up by his words, and now struggling to understand the loss of him.
âWhat?â
âYou want me?â He leans back, head tilting. âProve it.â
âYou canât be serious.â
âI am.â His tone is deadly. âI held back for a month. Might be wet and needy on top of me, but I need more, sweetheart.â
A thrill runs through you, searching to see how serious he is.
For a month, you had pushed and prodded and provoked a master in his own game. Continuously poked the bear, enlightened by every little reaction you stirred. Every tease and touch you used to tempt himâto break himâfed a demon instead. Frustration so evident, it emits from him in waves. Pleasant shudders trail up your back from the carnal look in his eyes.
âProve it, pretty,â he urges, thumb and index lifting your chin to face him properly. âHow badly do you want my cum?â
Heat pools in your cunt, clenching around nothing. âNeed it,â you answer, pleading. âNeed you. I give in. You win. Please.â
Gently, his knuckles brush your cheek. âThis isnât a game, pretty. No oneâs winning.â Despite the hardness in his gaze, his voice is soft, soft. âShow me how bad you need me.â
His words reset something in your mind. Fix a worry that was so deeply rooted, youâre momentarily stunned.Â
You push it away, nodding.Â
An idea stirs in your head; heâs good with his words, but youâre better with actions. Taking the hand against your cheek, you bring it low, low, low. Guiding them between your thighs, you rise on your knees ever so slightly. Enough that when his fingers near your slick, he can feel.Â
Momentarily, his eyes flicker down, but you take his chin between your fingers and lift his gaze.Â
âUp here,â you murmur. âOn my face. Watch what you do to me.â
His gaze is molten heat, but he obeys, and you smileâslow, knowing. Holding his stare, you shift, moving with deliberate grace. Guide his fingers to your weeping cunt, lips parting to gasp from the light touch.Â
His jaw clenches, devouring the shift in your expression. Bringing his fingers to your mouth, your head tilts. Your lips wrap around the first digit, tongue swirling around the tip. Humming, you release it with a pop. Then, you do the same with the next.
Taehyung swallows roughly.
âBothered, are we?â you mock. âIâm not done convincing, yet.â
Strained, he asks, âHave more in mind?â
Removing yourself from his lap, you lie back on the couch. Taehyung watches confused, until you remove your bottoms. Hitching your leg over the top of the couch, you rest your weight on one elbow so you can watch.Â
Watch as his eyes devour your bare cunt. Watch as his lips part and fingers twitch, itching for a touchâa taste.
Hand between your legs, your arousal coats your fingers.Â
âLook.â Two fingers spread your slit. âMessy and weeping for you.â Middle finger presses against your heat before slowly rising to circle your clit. âIâve thought about you while fucking myself with my fingers.â
He shudders, torn between watching your face and your pussy.Â
A finger slips into your cunt. âIâd, ah, fuck myself like this pretending it was you. Your hands. Your lips. Your tongue.â Another finger slips in. âNo matter how many times, it was, ngh, never enough. Never full enough.â
His eyes are glued to your cunt, palming himself. âFuck.âÂ
âBut Iâd pretend anyway.â Fingers slipping out, you swirl them against your clit again. âPretend it was your cock. Imagine the stretch, the length.â
He groans, lips parting. âShow me.â
Heâs under a trance created by you, and this sets you more on edge.
Head falling back, you collapse on the couch, breathing ragged. âImagined how, ngh, your mouth would feel. Dreamt about it so much.â
âFuck.â He growls. âLet meâ!â
âNo,â you protest, lifting your head to meet his gaze. âWatch. Gonna show you how much I fucking want you. Gonna, ah, gonna fuck myself to the thought of you.â Another hand trails down to your clit while your fingers fuck you. âShow you what I did in my room for months.â
He sounds tortured. âY/Nâ!â
âI - Iâm so close.â A whimper escapes you. âGod, ah, Taehyung.â
âThatâs it, pretty.â He licks his lips, eyes flickering from your face to your cunt. âLet go. Fuck yourself with your fingers, show me.â
âTae, ahâ!â A coil burns hotter and hotter. âSo fucking close.â
âCome for me, pretty,â he rasps, rough with control. âCome thinking of me. Right here. Watching you.â
Moments later, an orgasm washes over you. Harder than others youâve had whilst masturbating. Chest heaving, you bask in the high crashing over you. As the seconds pass, you barely register that youâve just done thatâfucked yourself in front of Taehyungâwhen his breath suddenly fans over your cunt.
Brows furrowing, you start, âTaeâ!â
Loud and uncaring, you moan.
Taehyung's tongue flattens against your soaking entrance, reaping the efforts of your work. He's fast and hot, sliding his tongue up your slit before his mouth closes against your clit, hot pressure making you scream.Â
Heart pounding, every word is a prayer of his name. Blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you wish forever to be this moment as Taehyung brings you closer and closer to release.
âFeel so good,â you whimper as he forces your hips in place. âMakes me, ah, wanna spend forever with your head between my legs.â
His tongue swipes around your throbbing clit with approval, and stars form behind your lids. Everything is pushing you towards the edgeâthe wet sounds of his tongue against your cunt, the sensation of his rough hands against your soft skin, his warm breath.Â
He taps your thigh twice, and you glance down to see him watching. His wants are clear without expressing words. To watch you as you inevitably unravel before him. A familiar rhythm of his tongue on your entrance and then your clit that has you propelling towards release.
"Fuck, Taehyungâ!" you gasp, as he relishes in every sound and taste of you. "Just - ngh - like that, baby.â
The sight of him between your legsâtongue merciless against your cunt, greedily drinking every drop it weepsâpushes you over the edge. It doesn't take much longer before another wave of pleasure crashes over you.
âTae - ah, fuck!âÂ
Focus slipping, your body tenses with release. His mouth is relentless, prolonging your climax until youâre a writhing symphony of sensations. The world narrows down to his touch, the sound of your moans, and the pleasure that settles over you.
Eyes fluttering, you catch your breath. âWhat - what was that for?â
âGave me such a pretty show.â Taehyung presses kisses to your skin as he travels up. âOnly fair I reward you.â
Heâs crowding your space, fully on top of you.
Before you respond, heâs leaning down to press a searing kiss. Dizzying, and maddening, and all-consuming. Mind and body still under a haze, his kiss only drugs you more. Every thought focuses on his lips, his tasteâhim.
A new hunger brews within you with every press of his lips, every swipe of his tongue. Heâs demanding every ounce of oxygen you breathe, taking and taking, the line where you end and he begins blurs.
His hand slides down, gripping your thigh, coaxing your legs around his waist. Desperate to lose the space in between, you oblige, needing him closerâwanting more. A shuddering breath draws from your lips as his hips find a rhythm that borders on desperate, friction igniting new flames to your still sensitive nerves.Â
Low and wanting, he groans, finally pulling away.Â
You tug his shirt. âOff.â
The material is discarded without thought. He sits straighter, on his knees, and you admire the rigid curve of his body. Arm stretching to run your fingers down his abs, before snapping the waistband of his sweats.Â
Slow, you whisper, âTake it all off.âÂ
He listens, removing the material in a smooth motion. The hard length of him snaps against his abdomen. Lips parting, youâre mesmerized at the sight of himâthe length, the girth. Taking in the view of him towering over you, you watch as he pumps himself, pre-cum leaking from the tip and coating his length.
âHow do you want it?â
âHm?â
There is no room for humour. âHow do you want to be fucked?â
Moonlight shines around his hair like a halo, tongue prodding his cheek as his gaze slithers over you. A shadow covers his face, a predator watching its prey. A shrill of excitement courses through you, clenching at sight.
âWait.â Hesitation fills your tone, eyes darting out towards the beach. âWhat if someone sees?â
He arches a brow. âTwo orgasms and now you get shy?"Â
Frowning, you nudge him with your leg. âIâm being serious.â
He leans, laughing. âThey wonât see us.â Lips brush against your jaw. âWe can barely even see them. Look.â
Turning your head, heâs right. Up here, with barely any light, they can barely see anything. You can barely even hear their voices over the sound of crashing waves.Â
âWeâre fine here,â he assures, lifting his head enough to meet your gaze. âPromise. Okay?â
You nod. âOkay.â
His gaze is soft, soft. âGood.â
âSo,â you drawl, cocking your head. A hand lowers between you, eager for his cock, pumping him in lazy strokes. âAre you finally gonna make good on your promise to ruin me, or what?â
The softness curling into the corners of the air, shatters instantly.Â
Holding his gaze, you continue to stroke him, pleased with the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Heâs hot and pulsating in your hand, painfully erect and beautiful. Slowly, you guide his head to your cunt, brushing his head against your slit, and you both shudder.Â
Both your attentions are fixed on your arousal mixing with his, the sight so perfect that a fresh wave leaks from you.
His eyes are dark and calculating. âLook how your body responds to me.â
âHurry,â you urge, trying to move against himâtrying to feel, but he pulls away from you. âTae.â
âImpatient.â
You hiss, âThen - do something about it.â
âI plan on it.â Taehyungâs gaze flickers over you, lips turning down. âI donât have a condom.â
Your face falls flat. âYou didnât bring a condom?â
He returns the expression. âI wasnât expecting to fuck you when I came up here.â
That catches your attention. You slot the piece of information away, unable to pay it mind now.Â
âIâm on the pill.â His eyes shoot to yours. âAnd I havenât been with anyone since us.â
Heâs quick to understand what you imply. That night, you both checked if you were clean, and you both were.Â
Carnal intent shadows his face. He leans back on his knees, assessing you as if determining how to fuck you best.
âPut your legs together.â He pumps himself lazily, watching as you do. âLift them.â
Without question, you follow. He pushes them back, further and further, until they no longer fold.Â
âFuck.â He groans, âYour pussyâs begging to be fucked, pretty.â
You mewlâliterally mewl. Before today, you didnât think it was possible, but there are a lot of new things youâre trying tonight.Â
Again, the head of his cock brushes against your slit. Noise so filthy as he drags it down your slick, smearing his pre-cum along your cunt.Â
He does this a few times, teasing you both.Â
âTaehyung,â you breathe. âPlease.â
âPlease, what?â
âStop, ah, stop teasing.â
The length of his cock presses against you now. âWhat do you want?â
âInside.â Eyes rolling back, you moan. âWanna be stuffed and full of your cock. Please, baby.â
He smirks. âThought youâd never ask.â
His head enters you, and the stretch is as pleasurable as you'd imagined. Another moan escapes you, eyes watching as his brows furrow with concentration. His breathing turns ragged, waiting for you to adjust, but your patience has long since left.Â
His patience also seems to be running thin, rubbing your clit as he inches the rest of him inside. You knew he would stretch you in ways no one else had, but nothing prepared you for this fullness.Â
A garbled noise leaves him from the vice grip surrounding his cock. âCanât believe you made us wait this long.â
A breathless smile finds you. âMakes for better sex.â
âDoes it?â
âAbout to find out.â
âWant it that bad, pretty?â he growls, sliding out. âFucking take,â âa sharp, deep thrust, and you gasp at the unexpected momentumâ âit.â
The length of him goes deep inside you, the head of his cock brushing against something that canât be sated. His movements are unrelenting, instinct taking control. He finds a tempo he pleases quickly, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.
He meets you with so much force and speed, it hikes you further and further up the couch. The sheer noise of wet slaps with every thrust makes everything more sinful, obsceneâperfect. White hot pleasure through your veins.Â
âCock hungry slut,â he rasps. âMaking such a mess for me.â
âBecause of you.â An arm shoots to brace the armrest behind you. âOnly, ngh, nasty for you.â Â
He moves with skillful precision, each thrust stealing more of your breath. Mindlessly, you understand why every girl seems to regard him as a sex God. Pushing your legs further back, he lifts your hips, claiming your body as his to use. Â
âFeel so good wrapped around my cock,â Taehyung grunts, pounding into you. âFeel unbelievable.â He brings a thumb to swirl your clit. âBet youâd feel better creaming it, too.â
âShit.â Jumping at the contact, your fingers wrap around his wrist. âToo much.â
âYou asked for this,â he reminds, pressing harder against your nerves. âYou wanted rough, pretty.âÂ
A choked noise emits as he pounds into you with newfound determination. His brows are pulled into concentration, your pussy pulsating at the overwhelming sensations of his cock and fingers.Â
âDirty girl.â Legs thrown over his shoulder, he ploughs with no mercy. âBeen too nice to you.âÂ
Eyes rolling back, you moan, âTae - Taehyung, unghâ!â
âThis cunt is begging for me.â A sharp thrust. âTo be used the way I like.â A deep roll of his hips. âFucked the way I want.âÂ
âUse me.â You knead a breast. âTry and make this - ngh - make this pussy yours.â
âLittle minx.â Tempo sharper, you wither beneath him. âCome for me.â
âRight there - fuck!â you cry, unable to hold back. âRight fucking there! Taehyung!â
Shuddering waves of pleasure ripple through you. Taehyung moves with relentless hunger, greedily chasing each obscene sound you weep. Body still shaking in the wave of your third orgasm, he pulls out, and you blink dazed.Â
âWhat?â Brows pinching together, you rise on your elbows. âYou havenâtâ!âÂ
âNeed to feel that again,â he rushes, breathing heavily. âI need one more.â
Blinking, your head begins to shake. âI got what I want. You donât have toâ!â
âIâm not done with you.â He slaps your leaking pussy. âPromised to ruin you. Fuck you so well no one else will ever be good enough once Iâm done.â
His gaze is full of promiseânot gentle, not kind, but feral. Hunger, raw and unfiltered, within his dark gaze. Pretense completely stripped away, all thatâs left is instinct. The air thickens with it, charged and trembling, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
Clenching at the sight of him, painfully erect and angry, a curse slips past your lips. A burningurgeâneed to be at his mercy.
âTurn around,â he orders, tongue darting to lick his lips. âGet on all fours. Show me that ass.â
Without question, you listen. Chest pressing into the cushion beneath, your ass raises, brushing his cock playfully. Arousal leaks from your cunt, coating your thighs, evidence of his efforts glistening under the moonlight for him.
âYou should see yourself like this.â His hand lands with force on your ass, a claim more than a touch. âGonna come to the image of this for the next fucking month.â
Swaying your hips, you throw a sly look over your shoulder. âOr - you could come in me.âÂ
His face is carved with an animalistic intensity. Lethal focus touched by a dark promise as his fingers tighten on your hips, holding you captive beneath his gaze.
In a rough and possessive motion, youâre pulled towards him.
âWoah. Whatâ!â He sheaths himself into your wanting cunt, words dying on your tongue. âFuck!â
He pounds into you; new depths, new strokes, new tempo. Heâs single-minded in his pursuit, a predator intent on unraveling his prey. Every thrust is a claim, strengthened by the trembling sounds that escape you.
Gasping, you curse, âFuck!â
Fingers bruise your hips, forcing you to meet every sharp thrust. He sheathes you on and off the length of him, fucking you on his cock. Using you the way he wantsâneeds. The mere thought sends you into a frenzy.
âNothing to say now, pretty?â he growls, going deeper, deeper. âHave I finally fucked that attitude out of you?âÂ
A breathless laugh. âGetting, ah - getting there.â
âHad you cumming not long ago. Screaming my name so loud, everyone knew who this pussy belonged to.â He chuckles darkly. âIâd say I did better than just good.â
Unable to form a response, you lose yourself to the feeling of him. His cock is the only thing on your mind. How he fills you, leaving a deep ache when he bottoms out. Easily, tendrils of pleasure knot within you again, thighs shaking every time you get close. And every time, he changes the tempo, the pace, his strokes.Â
âTaehyung,â you whimper, helpless to his mercy. âPlease. I - I need, nghâ!â
âHm?â
âStop teasing,â you murmur, grappling with reality. âMaking me, ah, insane.âÂ
His strokes are languid, teasing. Experimental rolls rather than relentless thrusts because you were teetering too close to the edge, and heâs not done playing yet.
âWanna drive you as crazy as you had me,â he affirms, breathless. âTake it, pretty.â
A deep, teasing roll. âGod - fuck. Fucking me so good.â
âI will,â he whispers as a promise into the night. âSoon. Iâll have this cunt singing for me soon.â
Every brush of his cock ruins youâruins how good sex can feel. Ruins anyone else you might ever meet because only he can get you like this. Bringing you to the edge of bliss and then denying an orgasm every time, until you're crying into the fabric.Â
âTaehyung.â Tears coat your lashes. âPlease.â
He muses, âTell me. Use your words.â
âThis pussy is yours, baby,â you admit. âNo oneâs fucked it as good as you. No one can.âÂ
A sharper thrustâa reward. âThat so?â
Heâs making a point. A punishment for having toyed with him for so long. Driving you crazy for his touch just as he once was for yours. Making good on his promise to make this pussy his.
âAh, yeah.â Fingers curling, nails biting the palm of your hands. âFilling me so well. Want - fuck - want your cum.â
âMore.â Grunting, his hips stutter. âYou can do better.â
âI need you.â A cry tears from your throat. âWanna make a mess on your cock again. Please. You feel so fucking good. Let me cream this cock, baby. Please - unghâ!â
His thrusts are sharper now, deeper. He plants a foot on the couch, raising your hips as he finds a tempo that has galaxies forming in your blood.Â
âHow could I want any other cunt when this one takes me so well?â His praise makes your pussy pulse. âWrapped around me so tight. Doesnât wanna let go.âÂ
âClose.â His new pace floods molten pleasure through your veins. âIâm so close.âÂ
âMe, too.â Each deliberate thrust drags you both closer. âAlmost there.â
Pleasure brews fast and strong. âDonât, ah, stop.â Â
âWant everyone to hear you, baby?â His thrusts are relentless, brushing you right where it threatens to snap the coil burning in you. âHear how well I fuck this pussy?â
His words drag you towards the edge. âYes.âÂ
âWant everyone to know who this pussy belongs to?â He slaps your ass. âWant them to know who fucks this cunt the best?â
âYou.â Whimpering, you look over your shoulder. âYou. Only you.âÂ
âFucking right.â Possessive eyes trail over your face, falling to where your body meets his. âThis pussy is mine. Understood? Your cunt belongs to me.â
âAlways.â Nodding frantically, coil burning white hot. âFuck, pleaseâ!â
He grits his teeth. âSay it.â
âYours!â Loud and unabashed, the word falls like a prayer. âMy pussy is yours. All yours. Fuck, Taehyungâ!â
Shuddering, a wave of pleasure washes over you, hot and strong. It takes the breath from you, almost blacking out at the sheer force of it. Taehyung continues to pound you through it, your pussy clenching onto him, enjoying every primal thrust of his hips.
Hips stuttering, your walls are painted with his sperm. He comes hot and deep, groaning your name. Riding out your highs, his pace falters, both catching your breath as the pleasure rides out.
Moments pass, his chest against your back, from collapsing on top of you. You're not sure how much time passes until he finally rolls to the side, pulling out of you.
He faces you, breathless and dazed. âWoah.âÂ
Unable to form thoughts or words, you merely blink. Nothing but the final wave of your orgasm washing over you, easing you into nirvana. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, clinging to your cheek from sweat.
He whispers, âHey.â Â
You smile. âHi.âÂ
Leaning closer, he presses a sweet kiss against the crown of your head, your nose, the bow of your lip. Before you can question him, he captures you in something lazy, sweet, and unrushed. Lips brushing against yours in small pecks, as though he has all the time in the world.
âYouâre unreal,â he praises softly. âIncredible.â Another firm kiss. âFucking unbelievable.â
Humming, you smile. âWhipped already?âÂ
He laughs, the sound more addictive than anything else. âWhat about you?â He raises on an elbow, leaning to hover over you. âThink you said this pussy,â âtwo fingers find your slit, spreading the mixture of his cum and your arousalâ âis mine.â
Your hand wraps around his wrist, responding by spreading your thighs. âYeah. So you should probably clean it before it stains Seokjinâs couch.â
Hand coming to rest against your thigh, he groans dejectedly, âYou ruined it.â
You snort. âIâm not getting yelled at for ruining his couch.â
âItâs already a mess,â Taehyung argues, but he goes to stand. âMade you cum four times. Remember?â
He dodges the swat of your arm, winking as he disappears behind the balcony door to your room. Awaiting his return, youâre unable to hide your smile. It widens when he returns, quick to clean you before he makes another comment that has you threatening violence.Â
Falling under the familiar hum of bickering, you almost donât notice the undeniable shift in your heart. The air between you is chargedâsoft, electric, and full of unspoken promises.
For once, you choose to ignore it, choosing to bask in the present.
Enjoying the moment that is now.
âY/N.â
âHm.â
A kiss on the junction of your shoulder. Lips brushing your skin, towards your arm. Fingers that trail your hips, soothing as the voice pulls you from your slumber.
A familiar, husky voice. âWake up, pretty.â
You groan softly. ââS still dark outside.â
He manages to turn you on your back. His face finds the crevice of your neck. Coaxing you with more kisses, voice soft as you wake.Â
âI know.â His breath is warm against your skin. âI want to show you something.â
âYou can put your dick away,â you murmur, fingers tangling in his hair. âItâll still be there when the sun's up.âÂ
âIâll make sure to put it to good use then, too.â He chuckles, pinching your waist. âCâmon. I really want you to see it. Youâll love it.â
A few more minutes pass by. He continues to press kisses at every expanse of skin availableâthough you're dressed in his shirt. His hands roam your body, softly teasing and squeezing until your eyes finally peek open.Â
Grumbling, you allow him to coax you out of bed. He gives you a few minutes to get ready, telling you to meet him out by the beach before he disappears. Although you oblige, every step towards the beach is a curse under your breath.Â
Simply, itâs too early.Â
Neither of you bothered to find your friends after. Instead, curled under your sheets, you stayed up talking and laughing until sleep found you. Only to wake in the middle of the night, where he took you again.
Him just as feral, you just as needy.
Ropes and ropes of his cum decorating your body. Making a complete mess of you, and he memorized it like art worth hanging. Then, in the shower, you took the weight of him on your tongue.
Insatiable, the two of you were.
As if now knowing what sex together is like, you crave more, more, more. Enough isnât a concept that exists. Not when it feels like you only have the time at the beach house to savour it.Â
You push the thought aside. Refusing to sullen your mood with the thought of what happens next, once you return home. A conversation you both skillfully avoid.Â
Stepping onto the beach, you find Taehyung starting a fire.
A blanket rests on the sand, a box of sâmores beside it. Approaching him, he grins and gestures to the small setup. Facing the beach, itâs a perfect view of the sunrise, the small fire crackling in the thinning night.Â
Taehyung pats the seat beside him. âCome here.â
And you do.Â
Sitting beside each other, roasting marshmallows, your voices are as soft as the fire crackling. Even when the first break of light slips over the horizonâslow, tender, almost shyâyou both continue to whisper. Afraid to disturb the delicate vine winding between you, growing gentle and unhurried, the way dawn strokes across the sky.Â
Light seeps through, gentle as a fingertip brushing away sleep. The world is painted in hesitant golds and washed-out pinks. Darkness doesnât vanish all at once; it loosens, melts, retreats, as if surrendering to something it always knew would return.
A soft exhale towards the inevitable.Â
Taehyung glances. âWorth it?âÂ
âSâmores?â You take your last bite, swallowing. âA hundred percent. The view? Debatable.â
His fingers poke your side. âDonât be a brat.â
Grabbing his hand, you giggle and try to lean away, but he doesnât let you. A toned arm keeps you firmly by his side despite his feigning annoyance.
âYou werenât complaining about it last night,â you tease. âIâd say you like it.â
Heâs silent for a moment. âI like you.â
You still. âWhat?â
A flush to his cheeks, lips pressed into a thin line. He looks nervous, almost as surprised at the words that spill from his mouth.Â
âI like you,â he repeats, resolved. âA lot.âÂ
Brain short-circuiting, you mutter. âWhat - IâŚâ
âI knew you were special the night we met.â A lopsided and devastatingly soft smile. âI brushed it off, but every time I saw you - every year at this beach house - I was drawn to you. I never stood a chance.â
A breathless laugh. âI did threaten you into an alliance to fuck over Jin.â
Fondly, he chuckles. âI shouldâve known then you werenât just anyone.â
The fire crackles. Waves crash somewhere in the distance. And youâsilent, breathlessâwatch as he gathers himself, as if deciding this is it. No more holding back.
âI didnât think someone could make every second around them my favourite.â He watches you in wonder, as if admitting this for the first time to himself. âThen - you happened. One day I woke up and you were all I could think about - youâre all I still think about.â Emotions lay bare on his face; youâre stunned at the intensity of them. âYou take up so much space in my head, it drives me fucking crazy.â
Heart pounding, you murmur, âYou sure itâs not because I forget to take my hair out the drain?â
A thumb brushes your cheek. âDefinitely not.â
Chewing your bottom lip, you whisper, âNot even the sex?â
His expression shiftsâdeeper, more seriousâanticipating this. âI know these last few months weâve been⌠Itâs just been about sex. But thatâs because I wanted anything you were willing to give, and I didnât think you saw anything more in us - me.â Thereâs a flickerâhurt, raw and realâcrossing his eyes. âI could never tell if you wanted more.â
Frowning, you say, âI could never tell what you wanted.â
âYou told me this isnât anything.â The reminder shuts your mouth. âYou said we never agreed to anything when we started this months ago.â
Your stomach drops, the memory hitting hard and sharp. âI was annoyed and upset,â you admit. âYou were giving me mixed signals. Caring one second, and then pretending not to the next. I didnât know what to think.â
He inhales slowly, threading his fingers through his hair. âI acted that way because I thought you didnât want me the way I wanted you.â
You look at himâreally look at himâand the weight of how long youâve both been misreading each other settles between you, warm and devastating.
Softly, you ask, âHow do you want me?â
âI donât want to be just someone to you, Y/N,â he replies, voice wrecked and honest. âI donât want to go back to the way things were. I want more.â A shaky breath leaves him. âI want all of you. I want everything with you. I want us - this - every day, for as long as youâll have me.â
For a moment, you can only stare.
This is the most exposed youâve seen him. The same eyes heâs always hadâmischievous and brightâcarry a tenderness you never recognized until now.
On instinct, you move, knees sliding over his thighs, hands braced against his shoulders as you ease yourself into his lap. Instinctively, his fingers find your waist, resting there. Loose. Shaky. Like heâs afraid to hold you too tightly.
Finally, you ask, âDo you know why I kept pushing back for so long?â
He shakes his head.Â
âI told myself it was because I was worried weâd fuck everything up,â you admit, gaze searching. âAnd maybe that was part of it, but I wasnât being entirely honest with myself.â
Taehyungâs gaze softens, waiting with quiet invitation.
A shaky breath, heart thundering. âBefore I knew it, you became one of my favourite people in the world. I think a part of me knew long ago, and I was scared if we slept together, thatâs all itâd ever be - all youâd ever want from me. That Iâd be left wanting something you never even meant to offer.â
âYou mean more to me than just that.â His lips curl down. âI wouldnât hurt you.â
âI know,â you whisper, smiling. âI know that now. I wasnât sure then, and I think that scared me. Because I was so worried that it was all in my head, that I was the only one feeling this.â
His breath catchesâbarely, but you hear it.
His voice is low.âWhat are you saying?â
âI like you, Tae,â you breathe. âA lot.â
For a moment, neither of you moves. Itâs strangely peacefulâthis small pocket of quiet where the truth finally exists between you, uncomplicated and real.
He whispers, âAgain.â
It isnât a command. Itâs a plea.
You close the distance between you as you always have, even when you pretended you werenât. Resting your forehead against his, your breaths mingle, and he lets out the softest exhale, like heâs been holding it for months.
âI like you,â you whisper. âI really, really like you.â
Taehyung smilesâsmall, crooked, beautiful. One thatâs entirely meant for only you.
âGood,â he murmurs, nose brushing yours as he leans closer. âBecause I really, really like you, too.â
He kisses you, slow and certain. Warmth unfurls in your chest, spreading through you in soft, weightless waves.
Moments pass, seconds turning to minutes until time fades away. Everything dissolves into kissingâslow, lingering, then hungry. A kind of whispered, tangled honesty that leaves no room for doubt.
By the time you pull away, the two of you smile as brightly as the sun breaking the horizon.Â
Soft laughter and whispers fill the morning air. Taehyung pulls you into his chest, your back resting against him as you watch the world slowly fill with light. His fingers intertwine with yours, wearing a smile that outshines the sun.Â
Time continues to pass as you address every gnawing fear that lingers. You peel apart every shadow of doubt that lingers until thereâs nothing left but certainty. Because somewhere along the way, you both convinced yourselves this was nothing more than finding pleasure, a distraction, something temporary.Â
Now that the air between you has cleared, heâs desperate to rewrite everything to your skin.
âWe should, ah, we should get back to the house, Tae,â you breathe.
Heâs above you, mouth trailing down your jaw, your throat, your collarboneâkissing you senseless like heâs trying to relearn every inch. His lips drag over a mark you swear wasnât there this morning.
He hums, distracted. No intention to stop, not even slowing.
âTaehyung.â
Another hum, deeper this time, like youâre interrupting something important.
You try again. âBaby.â
He finally lifts his head, gaze unfocused. âYeah?â
A sharp gasp swallows your answer when his hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. He kneads exactly the way you likeâslow pressure, then firmerâand you arch to the touch.
âTaeâ!â you choke out, but your voice betrays you, soft and needy.
He smirks. âYes, pretty?â
Heat unfurls in your stomach, pooling low.
It takes everything in you to grip his shoulders and push enough to create an inch of space. Heâs nowhere near done, simply patient and indulging you for the moment.
He sits back on his heels, breathing hard, the picture of a man who could take you apart right there on the sand and wouldnât regret a second of it. The way he looks at youâhungry, devoted, wreckedâsays he has no intention of dropping this easily.
âLater,â you pant, taking his hand from under your shirt. âEveryone's going to be up soon.â
He snorts. âAnd?â
âWe are not fucking on the beach,â you say, adamant. âIâm not getting sand up my cooch.â
He levels you with a lookâunimpressed, borderline offended, but he sighs. âFine.â
He helps you up, brushing sand off you in a way thatâs only partly innocent. The moment your fingers tangle together, his thumb instinctively brushes against the back of your hand.
Laughing as you enter through the balcony door, youâre met with three familiar faces. Jimin, Maya, and Namjoon are sitting at the table, all wearing the same shit-eating grin.
Their gazes drop straight to your interlinked hands, then slowly rise to your faces.
You can feel the joy radiating off them, just as they see the joy radiating off you and Taehyung. Warm, obvious, and embarrassingly bright.
Maya wiggles her brows. âGood morning to you two.â
Jiminâs smile hides behind the rim of his coffee. âWhen did this happen?â
Heat rushes to your cheek, unable to form a response with multiple eyes so intently on you.Â
Taehyung doesnât hesitateâjust pulls you closer by the waist, arms looping around you like itâs the most natural thing in the world. âLast night.â
Your head snaps toward him. âTaeâ!â
Before you can continue, Maya releases a banshee-level screech. âI WON!â
You jump, moment obliterated.
Maya points at Namjoon, eyes bright. âGive me my money, bitch. I won the bet!â
Namjoon blinks, affronted. âAbsolutely not. âLast nightâ could be midnight, could be one in the morning. Iâm not giving you shit until I get a timestamp.â
âIt was obviously when we were playing Capture the Flag, dingus,â Maya fires back, brow arched. âDonât be a sore loser. Give me my ten bucks.â
âYou donât know that,â Namjoon grumbles. âMaybe they had their sexual awakening at three a.m. Maybeâ!â
Maya breezes past it, poking Namjoonâs forehead. âPAY UP!âÂ
Namjoon swats her hand. âStop assaulting me!â
Jimin chimes, âTechnically, Joon and some of the others owe us.â
âThe fuck.â You blink. âWhat do you mean, some of the others?â
Jimin winces like heâs been caught stealing. Maya and Namjoon pause, staring at each other with slight panic. Before anyone says anything more, footsteps echo down the hallway.
âWhy the fuck are you screeching?â Jungkook grumbles as he enters. âShitâs fucking loudâ!â His eyes land on Taehyung wrapped around you. He freezes. âNo way.â
Maya panics. âKook, shut upâ!â
Jungkookâs gaze snaps to Namjoon. âWhen did they fuck?â
Your hackles shoot up instantly. âAre you fuckingâ!â
Seokjin strolls in next, mid-yawn. âWhatâs the commotion - oh.â His brows shoot up, interest sparking. âWhen did this happen?â
Jimin answers, âLast night.â
âFuck yeah, bitches!â Seokjin whoops, fist pumping. âRun me my money.â
A strangled, incredulous sound claws its way out of your throat.
As more and more of your friends wander into the room, you realize everyone had placed bets to determine when Taehyung and you would finally crack. Courtesy of Maya and Namjoon, who broadcast their wagers like a stock tip.
Their argument escalates instantlyâMaya climbing half onto Namjoonâs chair, Namjoon defending his wallet like a soldier, Jimin quietly sliding his mug out of splash range. Jungkook and Seokjin are arguing over the logistics of the 24-hour clock. Zoe and Yoongi merely watch fondly and tease in the background. Hoseokâs trying to convince everyone he bet three days, not four.
Everyoneâs far too busy arguing to notice your slowly rising rage. Except Taehyung.Â
He leans down, lips brushing your temple as he murmurs, âWant me to do something?â
Seething as you watch your friends, you answer, âUnless you want me to commit murder, yeah - mmph!â
Taehyung cuts you off with his mouth.
Itâs not a rushed kiss or a stolen peck; itâs deliberate, steady, dizzying. His hand slides to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he leans in fully, blocking out everything else. His lips move against yours in a slow, coaxing rhythm, a quiet claim.
He goes and goes until you forget where you are. Thenâ!
Hoseok bellows, âLOOK! THEYâRE KISSING!âÂ
The room descends into fresh chaos.
Before you can do anything, Taehyung pulls you into another searing kiss. More ruckus and hoots of hollering as they cheer you on, and you smile into the kiss. Taehyung leans back, laughing into your mouth before he fully separates. His forehead resting against yours, smile melting the last of your anger.
You glance back at the chaosâyour friends, wild and loud and ridiculousâframed by the bright morning sun spilling across the floor. Sand still clings to your legs, your shirt wrinkled, and the ocean breeze whistles through the open balcony like itâs elated, too.
Happiness blooms so strong it bursts into a quiet, breathless laugh.
Taehyung grins. âThereâs my girl.â
Like that, the anger disappearsâswift, effortless. The bet, your friendsâ ridiculous anticsânone of it matters anymore. All of it dissolves into nothing as you kiss him again, slow and sure.
"Operation Bang Voyage; success!"
a/n: i hope you enjoyed, my loves! i especially hope the sexual tension and the smut left you as hot and bothered as i was every time i read it omg. as always, please let me know what you think :>
â summary: rooming with a fuck boy is a recipe for disaster, but with an eviction notice tying your hands, your standards drop incredibly low. what started as the solution to all your problems has spiraled into a tense game of cat and mouseâhands, mouth, and orgasms included.
no problem though, a week away at your friend's beach house is exactly the kind of break you both need, right? wrong. the sunâs out, the drinks are strong, and your self-control forgot to pack a bag. if you thought being confined to the four walls of your apartment was hard, just wait 'til the heat kicks in.
â pairing: kim taehyung x reader
â genre: fuck boy & college roommates au + fluff, smut
â word count: 13.8k
â warnings: minor descriptions about being injured by shattered glass, mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, lots and lots of sexual tension, seokjin & jungkook (yes, they need their own warning, their characters wrote themselves), brief mentions of vomiting, weed, chaotic friends, jealousy (w healthy communication after!), explicit sexual content, dirty talk, exhibitionism, masturbation (f), oral (f), mentions of oral (m), semi-public sex, penetrative sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, namjoon having a license is the most fictional part of this story
â a/n: for some reason, my motivation to write struck when i was supposed to be writing my dissertation instead. moral of the story, please be smarter than me and prioritise your academic obligations over writing taehyung smut. i am currently crying from stress over my diss, but at least my passion project is done ??? split into two parts bc tumblr sucks
2 | masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | moodboard
âCan you justâ!â
âNo.â
Brows furrowing, she pleads, âI only need this small favour.â
Fingertips drumming against the wooden counter, you pray the server hurries with your order. Your unwanted companionâs name dances on the tip of your tongueâAnna? Annie? Whoever she is, her persistent whining wears your patience thin, and you refuse to bear it any longer.
Not sparing a glance, you respond, âIâm not talking to Taehyung for you.â
âUnbelievable,â she scoffs with a shake of her head. âHeâs not yours.â
Her shift in demeanour is a reaction you've come to anticipate. Having played out this routine with countless girls, it was all too familiar.
âExcuse me?â
âHe doesnât belong to you.â Her eyebrows raise in challenge. âIâd suggest you stop leeching onto him because itâs starting to look pathetic.â
Momentarily speechless, you blink.
At the time, moving in with Taehyung was a good idea. Though you didnât account for the string of issuesâyour current predicamentâto unfold months down the line. This doesnât happen often, but itâs enough that your patience has thinned.
Word spread that your roommate was the Taehyung Kim, and since, thereâs been a significant increase in the number of glares you receive on campus. Until recently, it was a nuisance you easily brushed offâempty threats that held no weight. Lately, however, people have gotten bolder. Some ask to be introduced, others try to belittle you, and few have even asked for his number.
Blondie in front of you was no different.Â
Grabbing dinner at your favourite burrito place on your way home from work was supposed to be a treat. As fate would have it, you encounter her here. A scenario that unfolds with a sense of inevitability. Almost immediately, she tried to butter you up before asking you to persuade Taehyung to respond to her messages.
Apparently, you control who a grown ass man decides to text.
A long, strained sigh slips. âListen, Annieâ!â
Her brows furrow. âAileen.â
âWhat?â
âMy name is Aileen.â
âSure.â Dismissing her, you continue, âI donât care what you have to say. And, frankly, instead of standing here and making pointless accusations, Iâd rather you do me a favourâ!â
Incredulous, she scoffs, âThatâs goldâ!â
ââand take Taehyung.â
Aileenâs mouth falls slightly ajar, not expecting your response. A smile curls on your lips, but it lacks warmth.
Confused, she stammers, âI - what?â
âHave him,â you insist, and she blinks. âHe is unbearable to live with, so please,â âyou take a hold of her handsâ âget him out of the apartment.â
Her gaze shifts between your entwined hands and your eyes, determining your intentions. Unbeknownst to her, you're as genuine as you could be.Â
Images surge through your mind as a ghastly reminder. A carnal smile, thick and heavy need in your blood, long and slender fingers slick with your desireâ!
With a firm shake of your head, you push the memory image aside.
Living with Taehyung took a sudden turn, to say the least.
âO-oh.â Her head tilts, unsure. âI - um. You donât want him?â
A shake of your head, face pulled. âNot in the slightest.â
Her brows pinch together. âWhy?â
Muttering, you glance away, âHeâs more infuriating than you think.â Â
As she processes your words, the cashier places your order on the counter, and you offer your gratitude. More so because you can end this conversation and finally go home. Dealing with Taehyungâs frenzy of fans is not how you want to spend your time after an eight-hour shift.
Hesitantly, Aileen tries, âCan you still ask Taehyungâ!â
âDonât push it.â
âRight.â
âGood luck!â You salute with two fingers. âRooting for you, sis!â
Not waiting for her response, you exit the shop. Taking a bite out of your burrito, a sense of relief washes over you at the thought of going home, even though it harbours another issue you wish to avoid.
Taehyung.
At the reminder, you frown.Â
Taehyung is unbearable to live with, but itâs not because heâs a horrible roommate. In fact, itâs the opposite; heâs been too good a roommate. So good, his name became a mantra on your lips while his were on yourânope.
We are not revisiting that.
Five months have passed since your new living arrangement, and the solution you devised to fend off impending homelessness, somehow, inadvertently, led to unforeseen complications.
Taehyung and you shared a mutual friend. He was a friendly face youâd greet now and then. An eviction notice, a visit to a bar (where he frequents), and a series of shots later, you found yourself sharing a fairly priced apartment with the notorious campus fuck boy.
You donât recall how you agreed to this rooming situation. A haze of intoxication clouds the night, but you vaguely remember both of you being in a predicament. He had been searching for a new roommate when you came into the bar, cursing the rotten landlord who evicted you.Â
Initially, you were wary of moving in with Taehyung; his reputation preceded him. However, concerns about waking up to unfamiliar girls in your apartment faded as the months passed. Besides the odd morning, you never really notice anyone over. Heâs surprisingly good at ensuring his late-night activities donât cross paths with you.
Dare you say it, you enjoy living with Taehyung. Minus one teeny, tiny, ridiculous thing.
You hooked up.
A notification from your phone interrupts your thought.
joonie: EMERGENCY [10:34 pm]
joonie: i cut my finger making dinner :( [10:34 pm]
maya: is ur dinner okay [10:34 pm]
Maya's tendency to brush off Namjoon as mere inconvenience is nothing new. Itâs how their friendship has been for as long as youâve known them.
joonie: im bleeding bitch [10:35 pm]
maya: did i ask [10:35 pm]
you: joonie ur a nurse??? [10:35 pm]
joonie: STUDENT nurse [10:35 pm]
joonie: andam i getting paid to fix me??? [10:35 pm]
you: then donât complain??? [10:35 pm]
maya: im trying to get laid [10:36 pm]
maya: plz stop texting emergency over irrelevant things [10:36 pm]
joonie: both of u got dick and forgot all ab me [10:36 pm]
you: i have got *nothing* [10:36 pm]
joonie: remind me, y/n [10:36 pm]
joonie: how is NOT sleeping w taehyung going [10:37 pm]
joonie: đ¤đ¤đ¤ [10:37 pm]
maya: L O L [10:37 pm]
A noise of discontent bubbles in the back of your throat.
For months, Taehyung and you have been playing a game of cat-and-mouse. Harmless flirting that gradually evolved into something far more intense.
After a few weeks of living together, his shallow flirting lost charm. He recycles the same line on every girl, they barely hold any weight. Taehyung caught on, and thatâs when this game started. At first, he was just more flirtyâstill harmless, but more frequent than usual. But when you continued to be unbothered, he took it as a challenge.
Unfortunately for you, Taehyung loves a challenge, and he was set on you.
Not thinking much of it, you played along, amused by his determination and equally eager to make him squirm. Months later, youâre stuck living with the dire consequences.
His words, the way he acts around youâeverything about him is different now. Every interaction leaves you stunned and speechless. Your heart works on overdrive the closer he is to you. He deliberately pushes your buttons until youâre a cursing mess.
Taehyung made it his goal to sleep with youâto have you writhing under his touch, and heâs done almost that.
A month ago, the thick and heavy weight of him rested on your tongue before his fingers were slick with your arousal, mouth hot on your clit. It didnât get further than that, but everything about your dynamic has changed.
Ever since, heâs been ten times more insufferable, and because youâre too prideful and stubborn, you refuse to be the one who bends to the otherâs will first. More so, youâre scared of what happens if you do.
Unease swirls in your stomach by the time you reach your flat, but youâre too exhausted to let it linger.
As the door shuts behind you, you announce, âIâm home.â
Half expecting a towering figure to ambush you, you gaze across the living room. To your surprise, youâre not welcomed by a familiar pair of mischievous brown eyes. For once, it seems Taehyung went to bed at a reasonable hour, sparing you from his arrogance tonight.
To say youâre impressed would be an understatementâ!
Thump.
Hands fly to your mouth as you muffle a gasp, heart leaping at the barely audible sound.
Heart returning to its regular rhythm, your thoughts whirl in circles, torn between checking it out yourself or leaving the task to your roommate. Just as you're beginning to discern the source of the noise, realization dawns, cheeks flushing with warmth.
âAh - fuck!â
Sex.Â
Youâre listening to the sound of sex.
Composure dissipating, your lips press into a thin line, suppressing the urge to yell. A glare shot into the dark abyss.
Gritting your teeth, you stride towards your room. Your mind is clouded with the dozens of things youâll do to Taehyung if he initiates another round in the dead of the night while you're attempting to sleepâbecause let's face it, he probably will.Â
A groan escapes you, halting a few paces from your door.
Gaze drifting towards Taehyung's room, his door stands slightly ajar. Fortunately, the narrow opening doesn't reveal anything, yet the creaking of his bed remains audible, and a protest threatens to spill. He groans, coinciding with the resounding thud of his bedframe. Heat flushing your cheeks, you want to claw at your eardrums.
Taehyung Kim is a dead man.
Shutting your door behind you, you let out a strained breath. Heâs fucking some girl, a few feet away, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.Â
Taehyung is a man who refuses to be tied down in a relationship. Even if he courts one girl, heâll still sleep with another; itâs engraved in his nature. Yet, you canât help but envy the girl who currently commands his attention, while you skulk within the confines of your room.
A green, ugly monster finds refuge in your heart.
Tonight marks the first instance heâs brought someone over since your fateful evening. You never deluded yourself into thinking he miraculously changed, but a small part of you relished the notion of his attention being exclusively on you.
Refusing to shower and risk crossing paths with him or his guest, you fall on top of your mattress with a gentle thump, gazing up at the ceiling.
That's when you hear it again. A faint thump followed by a subdued thud.
Facing away from your door, you press a pillow against your ear, hoping your torment ends soon.
Taehyung is so fucking dead.
âBullshit.â
âI wish,â you snort, pressing the button to your floor. âHer name was Aileen or something.â
His brows furrow, memory searching for the face associated with that name. A heartbeat later, he groans, head falling back in resignation.
âDamn it,â he mutters, irritation palpable in his voice. âWhy do they always find you?â
âI wish I knew.â Exhaling deeply, the weight of exasperation carries within the breath. âMaybe you should stop fucking crazy people.â
He frowns. âI donât do it intentionally.â
Taehyung and you established a routine to go out for bottomless mimosas and brunch once a month. A tradition you look forward to every month. Mainly because Taehyung can be very cute when heâs tipsy on champagne.Â
Returning home, you passed the burrito place, and it brought memories from the night before. Recalling the story, you internally wished Aileen the best of luck in her future endeavors with him.
âYou always say that,â you snark. âThen half of them are clingy and bother you, and the other half are crazy and bother me.â Arms crossing over your chest, you huff. âYou need a vetting process before you sleep with people. Half these girls are acting like youâre some sex God.â
He arches a brow. âWant to find out?â
âBe serious.â
âI am.â
A glint flashes through his eyes, stomach leaping, before you look away with fear of what he might discover if you hold his stare.Â
Eyes rolling, you mutter, âDonât be silly, Tae.â
In the confined space, the walls suddenly feel suffocating. His presence becomes strikingly apparent; the heat of his body and subtle fragrance of his cologne waft through the air, overwhelming your senses.
âMaybe they know something you donât,â Taehyung ponders, low. âMaybe you should find out.â
âIâve already had a taste,â you reply, eyes trailing to the column of his throat. âI think I know plenty.âÂ
He grins wolfishly. âYou could have more.â
Your gaze snaps to his, surprised. âMaybe youâre the one who hasnât had enough.â
A shrug. âMaybe.â
The elevator chimes, and the door slides open. Eager for distance, you exit hastily, Taehyung following behind.Â
Clearing your throat, you say, âThe mimosas are getting to your head.â
He doesnât respond immediately, and so you glance over your shoulder. His characteristically snarky retorts are preceded by his eyes fixated on your ass, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek.
A mixture of flattery and annoyance courses through you. You halt abruptly, catching the appreciative glint in his gaze as he continues to trace the curve of your ass.
Noticing your lack of movement, his gaze lights with an unmistakable spark of mischief.
âYou were staring at my ass.â
âMhm.â
You arch a brow. âIs that really appropriate right now?â
âIâm always staring,â he confesses, shurgging. âJust more shameless about it now.â
His unabashed honesty stirs a mixture of frustration and amusement, tugging the corners of your lips.Â
Against your better judgment, you ask, âAnd why now?â
He grins. âBecause I know how you tasteâ!âÂ
âShut up!â you exclaim, quickly covering his mouth with your hands and glancing around in frantic concern. âWeâre in public.â
He chuckles, delighted to coax this reaction from you, as if it were his intention all along. Your hand darts to swat him, but he proves to be too agile, sidestepping from your reach.
âAnd?â he asks, brows raised, amused. âIâve done a lot worse in public.â
You shoot him a wry look. âThatâs not something to be proud of.â
âLike you havenât done anything in public.â He rolls his eyes, but at your silence, his brows pinch together. ââŚHave you?â
âNo.â
âReally?â
A touch of embarrassment warms your face. âI really havenât.â
âIâm not talking about just sex,â he continues in disbelief. âHands under the pants counts.âÂ
âI havenât done anything in public,â you affirm, looking at him pointedly. âWhy the hell are you fucking people out in the open?â
âFree will,â he responds, gaze momentarily distant, studying you. âWould you ever try?â
His tone is light, but the weight of his words rests heavily. Does he mean would you consider trying with him? Your cheeks burn, struggling to suppress the images of Taehyung that threaten to surface. Memories that make you squirm if dwelled upon for too long.
Attempting to regain some composure, you clear your throat. âWe are not having this conversation out here.âÂ
âHm.â
Hesitant, your eyes narrow. âWhat?â
The distance closes with a short stride, a freshaquaticscent filling your breath. His hand comes to cradle your neck, thumb brushing against your skin. A protest catches in your throat as his eyes trace the curve of your neck.
âI want to check something,â he murmurs, brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
Your voice is barely a whisper. âWhatâ!â
His thumb presses against your pulse, breath lodging in your throat in response. His gaze searches yours, seeking something you're not entirely sure of.
âY/N.â
âY-yeah?âÂ
His warm brown eyes linger on your lips a second too long before meeting your gaze. Slowly, his fingers wrap loosely around your neck, the heat of his palm seeping into your skin. He leans closer, fingers applying the faintest pressure, and your breath hitches.
âYouâre not against it,â he muses, almost to himself.
Softly, you say, âNever said I was.â
His gaze intensifies, locking with yours. A fiery intensity simmering beneath it, and you're drawn into its depthsâinto him.
âWanna know what itâs like?â His voice is velvet and smooth as he adds slightly more pressure around your neck. âTo be fucked so good where anyone can see?â
Your eyes flutter as his spare hand rests low on your hip, fingers brushing against the curve of your ass.
âYes.â
He smirks. âYouâre just like me.â
Dark eyes scan over your features, lingering on your lips more than you deem appropriate before they flicker to meet your gaze.Â
âHow so?â
He tilts his head. âWant to find out?â
Against your better judgment, you answer, âShow me.â
âHm.â He leans, lips brushing the curve of your ear. âMaybe.â
Taehyung winks before striding towards your flat. Momentarily, you stand stupefied, blinking at the sudden loss of contact. Realizing whatâs happened, you trail after him while releasing a breath filled with incoherent frustration. His hold on you has you intrigued and wary, a potent mixture you struggle to process.
He can easily shift the mood, creating tension palpable enough to touch. Always commanding the attention of everyone in every room he enters, itâs no wonder he holds a similar sway over you.
You curse at yourself for falling for his antics. He's either honed his skills or the need for him complicates your ability to resist.
With a deep breath, you step over the threshold, the door closing behind you.
âIâm gonna shower,â he says, glancing at you. âWanna join? For the environment, of course.â
How heâs able to brush past whatever just happened is beyond you. Your heart is still racing in your chest as you kick off your shoes.Â
âFor the environment, my ass,â you deadpan, earning a chuckle from him. âIâd sooner drink battery acid.â
He smiles, sickly sweet and cunning. âYou were wrapped around my finger seconds ago. I could do it again.â
Being in the privacy of your home, youâre less confident in your ability to resist him. Not that youâve ever really been able to. Heâs so acutely aware of how you react because youâre terrible at hiding it.
âA moment of weakness,â you dismiss, gaze faltering. âPlus, Iâm not entertaining anything with you less than twenty-four hours after you slept with someone else.â
Taehyungâs brows furrow. âWhat?â
âI heard you last night,â you accuse, raising a finger in his direction. âDonât bother denying it.â
His eyes narrow slightly, processing your words. Seconds pass, and your pointed finger curls back into your palm at his momentary silence.
âHeard what?â he asks, tone as incredulous as he looks.
âYou.â
âAnything else?â
âYour bed slamming against your wall,â you huff, crossing your arms. âI donât know whyâ!â
He presses, âDid you hear anyone else?â
Contemplating, your thoughts circle the memory. Realization settles; there hadn't been anyone else to hear. It was just Taehyung and his bed, a truth that momentarily renders you speechless.
âOh!â Your eyes widen. âIâm so sorry, oh my gosh.â Heat flushes your cheeks as the words stumble out, âI didnât realize, I mean⌠were you using a sex doll? Not that it's any of my business, but thereâs a list of peopleâ!â
His frustration seems to intensify as he asserts, âI wasnât fucking a doll.â
âNo,â you raise a hand, shaking your head. âDonât be embarrassed.â
âIâm notâ!â
Insisting, you continue, âIâm really not judgingâ!â
âI was fixing my bed!â A sound of discontent escapes Taehyung's throat. âOne of the legs was wobbly, so I was putting it back in place.âÂ
Formulating a response, words stall in your throat. Taehyung's gaze remains steady, expression flat. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you meet his exasperated look.
âOh.â
âYeah.â
Eyes narrowed, you ask, âYou were just fixing your bed?â
âYes.â He sighs, as if this conversation has exhausted him. âI canât believe you thought I brought someone over. I havenât been with anyone in weeks.â
You blink, taken aback. âBullshit.â
Uncertainty flickers in Taehyung's gaze. âI havenât been with anyone since you.â
His confession stuns you, unable to accept his words. However, the genuine sincerity in his tone is undeniable. Taehyung might have a reputation for spinning elaborate tales and using playful charm when it comes to women, but heâs never done it with you.Â
âWhy?â
He cocks his head. âWhy do you think?â
âTaehyung,â you start, âthis canât happen.â
âLetâs skip this part,â he suggests, stepping towards you. âWe both know Iâm not about to listen to whatever excuse comes out of that pretty mouth anyway.â You take an involuntary step back. âLetâs put it to better use.â
His eyes roam over your body, the suggestion hanging heavy in the air.
âIâŚâ
He taunts, âYou?â
Gnawing on your lower lip, a mix of emotions swirls within you. Caution prickles at the edges of your thoughts, reminding you that crossing this line could dismantle the carefully constructed walls you've built around yourself, exposing the risk of falling too deeply. And, yetâ!
Gods, oh, Gods do you want to kiss him.
With all the fervour of tangled tongues and teeth, until your lungs burn and thoughts are consumed by him. The craving is undeniable, a magnetic pull that courses through your veins. He senses your longing, manipulating your desire to influence you.
âYou keep doing this,â you mumble, frowning. âI havenât had a moment of peacefor a month.â
âGood,â he relishes, fingers brushing your waist. âIâve gone insane because of you.â
You counter, âYouâre the one who left me high and dry in the hallway just now.â
âI was returning the favour.â His gaze falls to your lips. âYouâve made me crazy for your touch.â
Your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, his gaze tracking the small movement. Despite knowing this isn't a game you should entertain, you inevitably find yourself trapped in a predicament.
Because you canât seem to care.
The heat from earlier still courses through your blood; defences utterly abandoned.
Softly, you tease, âHave I?â
His voice is low. âDonât play dumb.â
âI think weâre both equally⌠bothered by each other,â you muse, gaze flickering between his eyes. âIâd say that makes us even.â
âMaybe we should do something about it,â he whispers, leaning closer. âShow you how bothered I am.â
Usually, this is where youâd stop things. Usually, this is where youâd snap out of the trance. However, something in the air intoxicates you, ceasing all reason.
Instead, you ask, âWhat do you have in mind?â
His gaze searches yours momentarily to find hesitation. A second later, he pushes you against the door, a gasp escaping you at the sudden motion.
Bright, red flashing lights set off in your head, but all you see is himâall you want is him.
âA few things,â he starts, fingers digging into your waist. When you donât push him back, he leans down, bringing his mouth to your neck, nipping at the unmarked skin. Your eyes flutter shut at his ministrations, fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck. âAll of them involve you naked.â
His words settle as a promise in the air.
âWhat about you?â you ask, breathless.
Heâs barely touched you, but here you stand, willing to grant him anything he desires. Your knees weaken beneath you from the hot, open-mouth kisses he presses to your skin.
âIâd be too busy making you cum,â he murmurs between soft, promising kisses trailing from your neck to your jawline. âIâd take my time teasing you like I am right now - like I did then.â
His hips press with intent into yours, holding you against the wall. The scene feels too familiar, and you're transported back to the night he made you come over and over until tears wet your lashes.
âFuck.â
âLet me take care of you,â he coaxes, lips softly brushing the corner of yours. âPromise you wonât regret it.â
Heat surges through you, a coil of tension knotting in your stomach. Instinctively, you press your thighs together hard. He notices and smirks, rolling of his hips against you.
Then you feel itâhim.
You breathe. âShit.â
âConvincing enough, yet?â
âGod - fuck.â Your head press into the wall behind, eyes squeezing shut.
His mouth trails along your collarbone, featherlight. âI can be nice,â he murmurs. âGive in to me, pretty.â
It takes everything you have to say, âNo.â
âWhy not?â He frowns, head lifting. âAnd donât say itâs because you donât want me. I know you do.â
You swallow thickly, ignoring your bodyâs desperation for him. âBecause I said so.â
âAre we still playing this game?â he asks, face finding the crook of your neck. âI want you, Y/N. I havenât been secretive about it, and I know you want me.â His tongue licks the column of your throat, before teeth nip sensitive skin. âProbably dripping right now for me.â Lifting his head, gaze full of lust and frustration. âWhatâs holding you back?â
Your voice is barely above a whisper. âItâs a bad idea.â
âHow so?â
âI donât want to risk screwing up our friendship,â you answer, not completely lying.
Risking your friendship is one of several reasons you refuse to take this further. But truthfully, there is as much fear in your heart as there is desire, holding you hostage from letting go.
A fleeting emotion passes through his eyes, too swift for you to decipher. He considers you, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek, and you wonder if he can see through youâsee how desperately youâre hiding your emotions.
âBullshit,â he concludes, and you nearly choke on your spit. âYouâre lying.â
âAnd youâre a little shit,â you retort, easily. âAnything else we wanna air out?â
Taehyung mightâve cracked a smile if he werenât deciphering your hesitation.
âOkay.â He pulls away. âI can be patient. Iâll wait until you sort out whateverâs bothering you. And once you finally agree running from this is pointless, Iâll have you begging for my touch.â
Arching a brow, you scoff, âYou sound pretty sure about that.â
âI am sure,â he grins, confident bordering on cocky. âWhen you finally let this happen - us,â âhe drags a thumb across your bottom lipâ âIâm going to ruin you.â
âFuck.â
A boyish grin finds his face as he steps back, warmth fleeing with him. His desire swirls in his eyes, but he opts for a wink.
âI will.â
A whole month passes, and youâre a mess.
Taehyung keeps his word, refusing to toe the line past friends. His unabashed, shameless flirting returned to something harmless. He hardly reacts when you tease, even when you suggest provocative double entendres to provoke a reaction. Â
The only reason youâre aware heâs affected is because his eyes leave little to the imagination.
A look that holds so much promiseâso much desireâif you finally give in, youâd regret testing his patience. Sometimes you wish heâd finally snap and bend you over the kitchen counter to have his way with you.
âI know exactly what youâre trying to do, sweetheart,â Taehyung warned during a night of relentless teasing. âAnd Iâm going to remember this when you finally break.â
Heâs not commented since. And though he does nothing to tease, your thoughts are overtaken by him.
This is more challenging than when he was pursuing you. At least then, it released some building tension. Now, consumed by desire and need, thereâs nothing to be done for it. Despite initially hoping his advances would stop, restless desire corrodes your being due to a situation you created.
âMake way bitches, Iâm - the fuck.â Mayaâs eyes flicker across your room with mild concern. âAre you fleeing the country?â
âTold you.â Namjoon licks ice cream off the spoon. âYou overpacked.â
Defeat slumps your shoulders. âI need help.â
âAn understatement.â Maya carefully navigates through the heap of clothes. âYou know we leave in the morning, right?â
You gape. âNo, really?â
âBitchy.â
Every summer, Seokjinâan old friend of Namjoonâs, and now a friend of yoursâthrows an annual beach trip under the guise of vacation. A guaranteed blackout blur so Seokjin can maintain his self-acclaimed title as King of Parties.
Seokjin is actually the mutual friend who introduced you to Taehyung.
Freshman year, Taehyung wasnât yet infamous around campus. His name had just begun to whisper among crowds when you met at Seokjinâs first beach trip. Met, meaning you drunkenly coerced him to aid you with finding Seokjinâs secret stash of jello shots.
And find it you did.
Fingers sticky with sugar, and the taste of cherry vodka on your tongue is the only lingering memory before the night blurs.
Following that year, things changed.
The next beach trip girls gravitated towards him, drawn by his irresistible charm. Heâd grown into his boyish looks, enchanting anyone curious about Taehyung Kim. People became putty in his presence, unable to resist him.
Until five months ago, you hadnât properly spoken to him since that night.Â
Now, the boy you barely knew is the man you live with. The stranger you hardly spoke to in passing now knows the sounds you make when you cum.
Blinking the thought away, your gaze finds Maya.
Her foot nudges a pile of clothes. âYou donât need eighty percent of these.â
âI know,â you concede, fingers brushing the pile. âHow are you guys done packing?â
Namjoon lazily swivels in the chair, spoon occasionally dipping into the tub of ice cream in his hands. âIt was easy,â he says between bites. âYouâre overthinking your fits.â
âSays you,â Maya jeers, lying on the bed. âYou were late to bowling last week because your shirt was drying.â
His brow raises. âAnd?â
âYour entire closet is full of shirts,â Maya deadpans, eyes narrowed. âYou didnât need that particular one.â
âYes, I did.â Namjoon points the spoon at her. âThat shirt got me that girl's number.â
Your face falls flat. âYou blocked her number the second she walked away.â
He shrugs, unapologetic. âNever said I wanted it.âÂ
âNo wonder youâre still single,â you mutter, cross-legged by your duffel bag. âYou complain about not being in a relationship, but then run awayâ!â
Instantly, your mouth clamps shut, attention shifting to the heap of clothes. Attempting to stifle your tangent works; message loud and clear.Â
âHow is Taehyung?â Maya prods, intrigued. âPut yourself out of misery, yet?â
âNope,â you say, hastily. âWeâre not having this conversation.â
âToo bad.â Namjoon grins. âYou still playing hard to get?â
A sound of discontent escapes you. More than their own romantic endeavours, your friends are engrossed in yours. Never have two people been so committed to learn new advancements about something.Â
âNo.â You fold a random shirt with exaggerated precision. âNothing new.â
âRemind me,â Maya taunts, voice flat. âWhyâre you fighting against this?â
Namjoon scoffs. âAs if she knows.â
âBecause itâs a bad idea,â you reason, glaring. âFucking him is only going to fuel his ego and make him more unbearable.â
âComing from the same person whoâs constantly pushing his limits, thatâs hilarious,â Namjoon snorts, stabbing the spoon into the tub. âIs this some weird foreplay where you keep edging each other?â
Cheeks heating, you stammer, âI - we - shut up!â
Namjoon cackles, easily dodging the shirt you chuck. âYou clearly want to bone each other. Put yourselves out of misery.â
âNamjoon has a point,â Maya agrees.
âI always do.â
âDonât kid yourself,â she chides before her attention shifts to you. âYou love a good orgasm, and he gave you four.â For effect, she pauses. âImagine the sex you could be having.â
âBelieve me, I have,â you murmur, memories flashing through your mind. âBut itâs not that simple.â
Namjoon asks, âWhy not?â
âItâs messy,â you answer, brows pinched. âWe share a fridge and a Netflix account. Iâm not about to gamble that just because heâs hot and wants to prove a point.â
You're no stranger to one-night stands, but those encounters involve people who arenât motivated by a desire to win some game. Taehyung's intentions are different; he sees you as a challenge. You won't become another notch on his bedpost so he can have his ego stroked.
âIs that the only reason?â Maya pushes with a curious glint. âDo you like him?â
Ridiculed, you stare. âDo I look stupid?â
Namjoon shrugs, head tilting. âI meanâ!â
âNot a word.â
He chuckles behind you, swirling in your chair. âDo you like him, though?â
âAs if,â you say, rolling your eyes. âWeâre just friends.â
Maya and Namjoon exchange a look, and you frown, unable to understand their unspoken words.
âSure.â
âRight.â
Your frown deepens. âIâm being honest.â
Though your friends are unconvinced, you know anything you feel is an extension of physical attraction. Attraction intertwining itself with every fibre of your being, attempting to sway you against your better judgment. A ruse your body creates to cave into temptation, the foolish thing unable to separate lust and desire from something real.
Anything beyond physical attraction is a pointless endeavour.Â
âDo whatever you like,â Maya appeases, hands raised in surrender. âAll I ask is that you keep it in your pants when youâre in my line of sight.â
Finding the notion absurd, you snort. âThe beach house is the last place anything would happen.â
Every year, Seokjin invites a crowd of people, and every time, Taehyung finds someone to spend the week entwined with. Not expecting anything different this year, youâve been wrestling this thought for the past week.
Part of you is relieved to leave the apartment behindâthe tension, the near-misses, the building frustration.
A week by the ocean is what you need.
Warmth from the sun, fresh sea breeze, and space from the kind of temptation thatâs starting to feel all consuming. Another part of you is twisted with something cruel. The gnawing thought that you will inevitably be forced to watch Taehyungâs attention be devoted to someone else. Watch him flaunt around someone else, kiss someone elseâbe with someone else for a whole week.
A bitter taste finds your mouth.
A knock on your door disrupts the thought.Â
Gaze lifting, Taehyung leans against the doorframe, eyes lazily trailing your room.
âHey.â He nods toward the chaos. âPackingâs going well.â
You frown. âI donât need the sarcasm, ass.â
Namjoon flaunts the spoon around. âTake over, dude. She isnât listening to a word I say.â
For the umpteenth time, the nearest item hurls towards Namjoon. Easily, he catches it, only to realize heâs now holding your blue bikini bottom. It dangles on his finger, eyes narrowed like itâs personally offended him.
His disgust directs to you. âSeriously?â
Worried because you were nowhere near ready, your friends came over to help pack. Except, Namjoon used that as an excuse to raid your kitchen, having done nothing but sit and eat the past half hour.
âFirst of all,â you hiss, grabbing another shirt threateningly, âyou havenât helped with shit. Second - stop waving the spoon around! Youâre gonna get ice cream on my clothes.â
âStop throwing shit at me,â he hisses before glancing at the garment again. âSecond thought, you should bring this set.â
âJoonie,â you start, dejected, âIâve packed ten pairs of bikinis already. Youâre not helping.â
He shrugs, returning the item. âSwap it out.â
Accepting with one hand, you return to face Taehyung. His expression gives you pause, tongue prodding the inside of his cheeks, eyes slightly narrowed on Namjoon. A cunning thought devises.
Innocently, you call, âTae?â
âHm.â
Raising the blue bikini, you lift another bikini folded at the top of your bag.
With an innocent tilt of your head, you sweetly ask, âWhich one would look better on me?â
Dark eyes snap to yours, sharp and warning, but it sends pleasing shivers up your spine. Holding his stare, you silently dare him, take the bait. His gaze drops to the fabric in your hands, and you watch in satisfaction as the muscles in his jaw flex.
âDoes it matter?â he asks finally, voice dangerously low.
âWellâ!â
âYou wonât be in them for long.â
Everything he doesnât say hangs thick in the air, a wordless echo of the promise he made a month agoâone thatâs still seared into your skin. Heat melts your bones, threatening to unravel you, but you hold your ground.
Barely.
âThen I guess,â âyou lift the skimpier bikini higher with a delicate flick of your fingerâ âthis is easier to take off.â
His eyes darken. His jaw clenches.
Power tastes so sweet.
A pointed throat-clear pleads attention. Over your shoulder, Maya raises a brow to remind thereâs an audience.
âIâm off to the store to grab some last-minute things,â Taehyung announces, unbothered. âNeed anything?â
Deliberately swaying the bikini on your finger, you reply, âGot everything I need.â
His gaze lingers on the item, and you suppress your smirk.
Eventually, his attention turns to your friends. âYou guys?â
âIâm good.â
âNope.â
Taehyung nods, holding your gaze one last second before he leaves. Silence falls around the room until the soft click of the front door locking emits through the flat.
Maya and Namjoon pin you with a look of disdain, and you have the decency to look ashamed.
Extending his hand to Maya, Namjoonâs gaze fixes on you. âTen bucks they fuck four days in.â
Maya counters, âThree.â
With a low five, the deal is placed. At the absurdity, your mouth gapes.
Glaring, you affirm, âNothingâs going to happen.â
âYou still havenât recovered from his tongue,â Maya responds flatly.
âYouâre going to let him fuck you into next month,â Namjoon says simultaneously.Â
Mouth floundering, you look abashed. âYou guys are the worst.â
âNo,â Namjoon huffs, incredulous. âYouâre the worst. Those were the worst five minutes of my life.â
Around Taehyung, you easily get lost in your own world. Lust and desire wrap around you, everything else ceasing to exist.
Meekly, you respond, âI was being funny.â
Namjoon mocks, âI witnessed foreplay.â
Maya cackles at Namjoonâs response.
Namjoon continues complaining, âDo that shit in front of me again and Iâm charging you my therapy bills.â
âRelax.â You busy yourself by folding a shirt. âHeâs gonna be too busy screwing someone else to spare me a second. Your sanity will be spared.âÂ
âWhat?â Namjoonâs brows pinch together. âAre you blind? Did you not see the way he looked at you?â
âLike he wants to fuck me.â
âI - yeah,â he admits, blinking. âExactly.â
âExactly,â you reiterate. âHe wants to fuck, I donât.â
âDebatable,â Maya murmurs.Â
âHeâs not gonna waste the week playing cat and mouse with me with no assurance of sex. This is Taehyung. He canât make it through a five-night bender without food, booze, and sex.â
âHe likes this more than you realize,â Maya responds, shrugging. âThis is sport to him, and youâre giving him a real game.â
Instead of comfort, the words fuel your worries.
A gameâone you secretly enjoy more than you believeâbut regardless of how well you play, it doesnât change the outcome. Taehyung won't wait for a possibility when heâll have endless options in every corner of that house.
âAnd sleeping with him is how I lose,â you attest, grounding your will. âIâm too damn competitive to let him win.â
âRight.â Namjoon seems unconvinced. âMake sure when you lose, itâs on day four.â
âDick.â
âAt your service.â
Maya drops to the floor beside you, giggling as she folds her legs beneath her.
âFuck it,â she shrugs. âYou fuck him, or you donât - doesnât matter. Iâm making sure you pack the skimpiest things in your closet.â She starts peering through your bag. âYou might as well fuck someone else, too.â
Amused, your head shakes at her determination.
Namjoon finally sets the ice cream aside, resting his weight on his feet as he crouches on the floor. âI can set you up with one of the guys,â he offers casually. âJin will offer himself if you wait long enough.â
Maya and Seokjin have teetered on the edge of friends and more since the day Namjoon introduced them. For years, youâve watched them inch closer towards something more, and somehow they still havenât crossed that line.Â
Maya carries on, âI went to the gym last weekâ!â
âYou went to the gym?â Namjoon interjects, dubious. âWillingly?â
ââŚokay, I walked by the gym.â Maya pins him with a look. âPoint is I saw him and something divine spoke to me.â
âYour hormones?â you ask.
âProbably.â She shrugs. âOr his fucking abs.â
Namjoon grimaces. âGross.â
Maya reaches over you to grab a hold of his hands. âYou need to help me, Joonie. Iâll be your wingwoman, if you wingman me. Please? Please?â
Namjoon gazes with disinterest at their joined hands. âWhatâs in it for me?â
âIâll make sure youâre known as the Messiah of the Sheets, God of Sin, Prince of Pleasure - ow!â
Maya rubs her skin, where Namjoon pinches her.
He grumbles, âKeep saying stupid shit and Iâll tell Jin you smell like somethingâs been rotting in you for weeks.â
âYou fuâ!â She cuts herself off, swallowing. âFine. Deal. Iâll be a normal, boring wingwoman instead.â
He feigns disappointment. âHow unfortunate.â
âYou have no taste,â Maya huffs, dramatically. âIâll have to work twice as hard to sell you to someone now.â
âBecause youâll be easy to pimp out.â He snorts, waving a hand at her. âHave you met yourself?â
âIâm a delight,â Maya huffs, before turning to you with a pout. âTell him Iâm a delight.â
You snort, jabbing a thumb at Maya. âSheâs drama and chaos wrapped up in a hot fucking body. Pimping her out to Jin will be the easiest thing in the world.â
Without warning, Maya throws her full weight into you. âAwe, babe!â
âMaya, waitâ!â
âOh shit.â
Briefly, you feel Namjoon trying to support your weight. âFuckâ!â
One by one, you all topple over and crash on the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.Â
Namjoon groans from somewhere under your leg, and it unleashes a fit of giggles from you. As he curses under the weight of you both, it continues to fuel your humour.
Maya lifts a single finger, wiggling it with excitement.
âOperation Bang Voyage has officially commenced!â
âMm - are we here?â
Glancing over your shoulder, you greet, âMorninâ, sleeping beauty.â
Maya lifts her eye mask, adjusting to the light. For the entirety of the two-hour trip, she was asleep. Honestly, youâre surprised she managed to sleep through Namjoon and you singing and bickering.
âMorninâ,â she purrs with a quip of her lip. âWhatâs the time?â
âA little past one.â
âOne?â Maya yawns, arms stretching overhead. âYou said weâd be here by twelve.â
âWe wouldâve,â you murmur, stifling a laugh as you unbuckle. âUntil someone decided to take the wrong turn.â
Namjoon grumbles, âI said sorry.â
âJoon,â you start, incredulous, âyou missed the same exit three times.â
Namjoon wanted to leave early to secure the nicer rooms before anyone else could claim them. Last year, you arrived closer to dinner, and the three of you were forced to cram into a room with one twin bed.
To say it tested your friendship is putting it kindly.
Departing at 9 AM, the goal was to grab a quick breakfast and arrive by 12. However, the plan didnât account for Namjoonâs directionally challenged ass. Too distracted by singing, he missed the exit. Easily, you rerouted him, but he missed it again. Even with your constant reminders during the third attempt, he drove right past.
On his fourth attempt, he finally made it. However, for the remainder of the journey, you laughed at his expense.
âWow.â Maya pauses halfway through opening her door to look at Namjoon. âHowâd you get your license again?â
âYouâre here in one piece, arenât you?â he asks, stepping out of the car.Â
Maya chirps, âBare minimum, Kim.â
With a snort, you step out of the vehicle. Warmth from the sun kisses your skin, a salty breeze carrying across the driveway. Over the chatter of your friends, you can hear the distant sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
A smile instinctively curls on your lips, limbs stretching overhead as you hum in content.
âMight catch a ride back with Tae,â you muse as Namjoon pops the trunk. âYou hungover and driving - no, thanks.â
âRide with him, or ride him?â he asks, dryly.
A ghost of a smirk tugs at his mouth when you lift a finger.Â
No matter how many times you see this place, it always feels surreal. Red roof bright and sharp against the sky, white siding glowing in the afternoon sun. Memory after memory from previous years spill through every inch of the view.Â
Seokjinâs parents are hotshot lawyers who passed their natural talent in academics to their son. Good looks, academically inclined, and rich. He checks a lot of boxes; itâs a wonder how heâs been single for so long.
âShell-o, my guests.â A voice bellows from the front of the house. âLong time, no sea!â
Eyes trailing to the source of the noise, your eyes roll. âShut the fuckâ!â
Words cease to exist as you find Seokjin.
Maya blinks. âWhat the fuck?â
Gazing over the rim of your sunglasses, you watch Seokjinâs dramatic 360 before striking a pose.
A sheer, glittery kimono flutters in the breeze, blinding under the sunlight. His abs are on display, but they barely command attention in his ridiculous fit.Â
With every step, his flip flops slap obnoxiously against the concrete, rattling the seashells glued onto the straps. Pink swim trunks adorn his hips, littered with cartoon crabs and the words "Feeling Claw-some!" stitched in white sequence across the waistband. On the bridge of his nose rest his star-shaped sunglasses, and putting the entire look together, a giant inflatable flamingo rests comfortably under his arm.
Coming to a stop in front of you, he dramatically shakes his blonde hair out from his face.
Vaguely thinking about Seokjin's perpetual singleness, it seems youâve answered the question.
âYou lookâŚâ Your eyes slowly trail over his figure.Â
âDashing?â He wiggles his brows. âSexy? A wet dreamâ!â
âRidiculous.â
He smiles, undeterred. âYouâre jealous Iâm pulling this off.â
Maya stares blankly. âDefinitely not jealous.â
âWhere did you find the kimono?â Namjoon asks, face pulled into disgust.Â
âYour mom.â Seokjin pulls a face. âNone of you have a sense of appreciation.â
âAppreciation for what?â You snort. âMaking public humiliation a personality trait?â
âMock me all you want,â Seokjin says unbothered, flapping his kimono. âGreatness is always misunderstood during its time.â
Maya murmurs, sauntering over to the trunk. âDelusionâs a hell of a drug.â
Eyes narrowed, you ask, âThis the first andlast of these ridiculous fits?â
âNope.â
âBrilliant.â
Seokjinâs chaotic nature and lack of care has always been refreshing. His dramatic flair is a testament to his confidence if anything.
âWear whatever you want,â Namjoon says, shutting the trunk. âAs long as thereâs booze, I donât care.â
Maya drops her duffle to the ground, unzipping the bag. âYou got more pink accessories?â
âObviously.â Seokjin gazes down. âWhy?â
Lifting a hot pink bikini, she grins, wicked and bright. âGuess weâre matching today.â
He cheers, stepping forward to dab her. Maya laughs, using his hand to lift herself up. Namjoon comes to a stop beside you, handing over your duffle bag as you exchange a knowing look.
Seokjin grins. âSee - this is why youâre my favourite.â
âSure thatâs the only reason, pretty boy?â she asks, winking as she stalks off.Â
Seokjin blinks, momentarily caught off guard. His gaze follows her as she climbs the stairs, and like the minx she is, sheâs slow and deliberate, aware of her audience. With ease she commands the attention she wants with the sway of her hips.
Until she disappears beyond the threshold, Seokjinâs focus is fixed on her.
Clearing his throat, Seokjin turns to face Namjoon and you. âWhere was I?â
âDrooling at her ass,â Namjoon remarks. âGood luck, Romeo.â
Seokjin pins him with a look. âYou get the room by Jungkook.â
Namjoon makes a strangled noise of discontent. âDude. Heâs going to be fucking like rabbits all night, every night.â
âJungkookâs a nice guy.â Seokjin pats Namjoonâs shoulders. âHeâll let you join.â
âHard pass.â
Before they continue bickering, you ask, âWhere am I sleeping?â
âWherever you want.â Seokjin lazily gestures at the house. âLet me know and Iâll tell the others itâs off limits.â
You lift a brow. âEven the master bedroom?âÂ
A sly smile curls on his lips. âMy only rule for sharing a bed is that we do it naked.â
âGross.â
âDonât knock it till youâve tried it.â
âIâll take my chances with the floor.â
âYour loss,â Seokjin sighs, fingers pressed between his brows solemnly. âBeauty sleeps alone tonight.â
Before either Namjoon or you can respond with a well-deserved retort, a familiar voice cuts in from behind.
âWhoâs Beauty?â
Taehyung strolls towards you three, eyes darting between you through his sunglasses.
Heâs wearing an undone white button-down, his golden tan skin on display. Under the sun, his skin seems to glow, the defined muscles grabbing your attention. Eyes trace over every inch, trailing down to the sharp, familiar v of his waist. A pair of blue swim shorts hangs low on his hips, and you resist the memory of what hides beneath.
A slow smile tugs his lips. âOnly pretty one I see is Y/N.â
Unlike Taehyungâs deliberate attempts to unravel your composure, his light-hearted flirting doesnât have as great an effect.
Or, so you thought.
Under his gaze, your traitorous heart stutters.
âCharming.â Rolling your eyes, you ignore the way your insides flutter. âWhen did you get here?â
Taehyung left earlier with Seokjin and another friend, Jimin. Needing to be here before any of the guests arrivedâwithout Seokjin, no one can access the placeâhe was gone by the time you woke up. Had they not woken up at six am to leave, you mightâve joined them.Â
He did, however, leave breakfast on the kitchen counter. A plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon. Along with it, a stupid note that had no business making you laugh as hard as you did: next time, iâll make sure your eggs are fertilized x - chef tae
âA little past nine,â he answers, stepping closer. âWhat took you guys so long?â
âNamjoonâ
Namjoon grumbles, âIt was the GPSâ fault.â
âWhatever you say, Joonie.â
Seokjin looks at Namjoon, appalled. âWho gave you a license?â
Instantly, they return to bickering, voices rising, and insults flying. Namjoon and Seokjin have been friends for years, long before college, and have only operated on insults and jabs.
Distracted, you donât notice Taehyung closing the distance until thereâs a weight lifted off your shoulder.Â
Heâs unbothered by the weight of your bag, whereas you were silently cursing yourself for having overpacked. After Namjoon and Maya left, youâd thrown in a few more âjust in caseâ outfits and spiraled for ten minutes about which shoes to bring.
âYou donât have to carry that,â you say, reaching for the strap.
He shifts out of reach. âI know.â
And thereâs something about the way he says itâso matter-of-fact, so softâthat makes your hand fall to your side.
He walks towards the house, and you follow, leaving Seokjin and Namjoon behind.
Passing the threshold, the sweet smell of fruits and sunscreen overwhelms you. Taking in the sun-drenched space, thereâs music humming from a speaker tucked in the corner, bottles and cans littered on tables, and towels scattered everywhere.
âHow was breakfast?â Taehyung asks. âEnjoy the eggs?â
âMake sure my eggs are fertilized?â you recall, arching a brow. âGrow up, Tae.â
He laughs with a boxy grin youâve come to adore. Unable to help yourself, you match his visible joy.
âI thought it was clever,â he replies, chuckling. âA promise I plan to keep.â
âWeâll see.â
âYeah.â A subtle smile on his lips. âWeâll see.â
Looking away before he could wordlessly convince you into temptation, you clear your throat. âWhere are we going? Iâm allowed to choose whichever room I want.â
Winking, he responds, âIâm taking you to the best one.â
Silently, you follow as he leads up the stairs and down the corridors. A comfortable quiet settles between you, thoughts consumed by him. By the broad line of his shoulders, the easy way he moves, the quiet confidence in each step.
Deep in thought, you donât realize heâs stopped until you walk into his back.
âOw,â you mutter, rubbing your forehead. âA warning wouldâve been nice.â
Taehyung glances, lifting a brow. âWhyâre you so distracted?â
âIâ!â Stumbling over words, you glance away. âNothing. Are we here?â
He doesnât seem convinced, but he doesnât push, merely smiling to himself.Â
Turning the knob to the door, he reveals the room. âTa-da.â
Immediately, youâre welcomed by massive windows framing a breathtaking view of the ocean. Light spills into the room, golden and warm, brushing over the crisp white sheets, the soft beige rug, the pale wooden floors. A balcony opens directly off your room, completing the scene.
Removing your sunglasses, you rest them on the nightstand.
Taehyung steps in behind you, setting your duffel bag on the floor. âMaster bedroom still has a better view, but this is the next best. I saved it for you.â
Astounded, you turn to him. âYou saved it?â
He nods, sliding his sunglasses to rest atop his head. Youâre dumbfounded because thereâs no possible way no one else wanted this room.
Before you can push, he walks toward another door. âGuess the best part?â
Brows pinching, you question, âThereâs more?â
He swings open the door, and you follow him into a Jack and Jill washroom.Â
He nods to the door at the opposite end. âIâm next door.â
You blink, then peek into the adjoining room. Sure enough, his bag is sprawled open across the bed, clothes already tossed haphazardly around.
âAre you obsessed with sharing a washroom with me?â you ask. âOr living down the hall from me?â
He chuckles. âI chose it for the view. Not as good as yours, though.â
âTae, you couldâve just taken the better one.â Your shoulders slump. âWhy leave it for me?â
âDo you not like it?â
âI love it, butâ!â
âThatâs all that matters,â he interjects, soft but firm.
An argument dies in your throat. Thereâs a steady certainty, the unwavering warmth in his gaze. An intensity in his eyes youâre not accustomed to, a softness that pulls your thoughts into dangerous shores.Â
Clearing your throat, you walk towards the sink counter.Â
Through the mirror, you catch Taehyungâs teasing smile. âIâll just walk over whenever I want to see something pretty.â
Holding his gaze through the mirror, you drift into uncharted waters. His teasing and flirting are manageable when itâs obvious his intentions are lewd.
This, however?
A war rages between your heart and mind as it tries to decipher what it means.
Needing to bring things somewhere you can control, you press, âYou sure the view isnât walking in on me naked?â
His head tilts. âAlready have the memory of that.â
âThat so?â You hold his stare, unblinking. âDonât need a refresher?â
A muscle ticks in his jaw, eyes dark as they bore into yours through the mirror.
âYouâre such a tease,â he says, voice rough around the edges. âKeep saying things, but you never do anything about it.â
Heart drumming in your ears, you taunt, âMaybe I want to see you break first.â
Youâre playing a dangerous game.
The more you push, the closer you get to shoving him off the edge of his barely contained restraint. For a month, youâve enjoyed watching him keep his restraint tethered, rather than crashing into you with the same recklessness he normally does.
He considers you. âAnd if I do, will you finally give in?â
âNothing to give in to.â
His eyes flash with challenge.
In a few strides, he closes the distance, hands resting on either side of you on the counter. Heat from his body seeps through the thin space between you, igniting a subtle warmth along your spine. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, feather-light as they curl into a smirk.
His voice is soft and low. âLiar.â
âAm not.â
âYou sure?â
A shiver runs down your back. His tone is far too challenging, far too low, settling in the pit of your stomach.Â
Ignoring this, you tilt your head. âMaybe if you try hard enough, Iâll actually be tempted.â
He considers you, and you can see him rising to the challenge. A part of you wonders if youâve finally made him break.
âI canât decide if I love or hate how stubborn you are,â he murmurs, almost to himself. âPart of me canât wait to watch you begâ!â
âNot happening.â
He chuckles, deep and low. âAnd the other wants to fuck that attitude right out of you.â
His words render you speechless, knocking the air out of your lungs. After a month of silence, you were not expecting anything out of his mouth this vulgar. Perhaps his patience is finally wearing thin, or the beach house will be his demise.Â
As if heâs proved his point, catching the way you react to his vulgar words, he pulls away. Instead, he stands beside you, back against the counter as he grins.
Blinking, you find the words to respond. âYou kiss your mother with that mouth?â
He winks. âCould kiss you, too.â
âPiss off.â
âYou wouldnât like that.â
A brow arches in challenge. âI canât think of a better way to kick off this weekend.â
âDonât pretend like you won't miss me.â
A playful smile finds his lips, but his words land close to a truth you donât want to confront. Heâs right, you wouldnât like that.Â
A small fear embeds deep within you. Fear heâll disappear as he has previously on these trips. Fear that every interaction will be reduced to a passing greeting and nothing more. Not because youâre accustomed to his attention being fixated on you, but because of the possibility that this has alwaysâonly been about sex.
Months of laughing, becoming friends, bickeringâall of it. It would mean nothing, and the thought twists sharply in your chest.
Masking your emotions, you respond, âYou sound pretty sure of yourself.â
âWhy wouldnât I be?â he asks, nonchalantly. âYou said âI donât think I cummed so hard inâmmf!â
âWould you shut up?â you hiss, covering his mouth with your hand.
Heat rises to your cheeks, panic surging through you.Â
Post-four-orgasms, you were dangerously honestâbreathless, blissed out, and utterly unfiltered. He clung to that line like a trophy, letting it inflate his already unmanageable ego for days.
Withdrawing your hand slowly, you pin him with an unimpressed glare. Not that it phases him. Heâs far too amused by the whole ordeal.
He tilts his head, teasing, âI was just reminding you why youâd miss me.â
âBy quoting all the stupid and irrelevant shit I say?â
âHighly disagree on the irrelevant.â
âDo you?â you challenge, arms crossing. âThe stuff that boosts your ego sticks, but when I repeatedly tell you stop using my shampoo, it just goes in one ear and out the other.â
âNo, I remember that,â he corrects. âI chose to ignore it.â
âAss.â
He winks. âAn ass with glowing reviews.â
âAnd you wonder why I tell you to piss off.â
âWaitâ!â He straightens slightly, brows pinched together. âYou brought it with you, right?â
Your face falls flat.
He grins. âYou did.â
âDonât fucking even.â
He kisses his teeth. âRoommates are supposed to share things.â
âYeah, like utilities and rent. Not high-end, salon-grade shampoos that cost more than your streaming subscriptions combined.â
âIâll make it up to you.â
You arch a brow. âWithout using your dick?â
He pulls a face, almost appalled. âWhereâs the fun in that?â
âWait - is that why you picked these rooms?â you ask, eyes narrowed. âYou wanted to rob me blind?â
âI wouldâve stolen your shampoo regardless.â A boyish grin curls on his lips. âThis just makes it easier.â
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you exhale sharply. âI will replace my shampoo with Nair.â
Taehyung blinks. âI carry your heavy-ass duffel bag upstairs, and this is my thank you?â
âYeah.â
âDefinitely using your shampoo.â
He dodges just as you lunge to twist his nipple, laughing as he bolts into his room.
âYou littleâ!â Youâre on his heels in an instant, chasing him into the hallway. âTouch my shampoo and youâre dead.â
Over his shoulder, he calls, âFile a complaint, then!â
âI did! Months ago, when you first started robbing me!â
He skids to a stop and spins around dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. âAnd Iâm taking it very seriously. Extensive review process and everything.â
Mid-step, you falter. âItâs been five months, Taehyung.â
âIâm a one-man operation,â he argues, offended. âI have a lot of complaints to go through. Including this one now.â
âThen stop pissing me off.â
âIâm not trying to piss you off, Y/N,â he assures. âIâm trying to make you cum againâ!â
âShut up!â you screech, launching at him once more. âOh my God, what is wrong with you?!â
Taehyungâs laughter echoes through the halls as he catches your wrist mid-air, his grip annoyingly firm. You writhe in his hold, cursing every molecule of his being, but it further amplifies his laughter.Â
âYouâre so violent.â
âYouâre so dead.â
He frowns. âWhoâs going to remind you to restock your shampoo if Iâm dead?â
Tryingâand failingâto hide your smile, your mouth gapes. For someone so infuriating, he makes it ridiculously easy to forget why youâre mad.Â
Disbelieved, you counter, âI wouldnât need to restock so often if it werenât for you.â
âYour expenses are acknowledged, but will not be reimbursed.â
âLet go,â you say flatly, gaze hard. âIâm going to fix this by ripping out your hair.â
His grip tightens, stepping closer until your back brushes against the banister. He barely flinches as you squirm in his hold.
âWhen you think about it,â he starts lightly, tone infuriatingly casual, âitâs kind of a compliment.â
Your brows furrow. âHow?â
âMeans you smell good,â he states. âAnd I like it.â
He effortlessly brings you back to the very thing you were avoiding.
Uncharted waters.
Flirting is Taehyungâs second language, coming to him as natural as breathing. Months ago, this wouldnât make you pause, but somethingâs shifted. Maybe youâve changed, or maybe itâs your dynamic, because regardless that these superficial one-liners are a ruse at best, your heart stumbles.
âAt least be original,â you murmur, ignoring the tightening in your chest. âFlattery only works when it hasnât been rinsed and repeated, Kim.â
âExcuse me,â he scoffs, feigning offense. âThat was a Taehyung Kim exclusive.â
âAnd Iâm sure you meant it as deeply the last ten times you used it.â
His smile falters, his usual brand of mischief gone. Instead, he watches with a new intensityâsomething quieter, more focused.A shift in the air that youâre not accustomed to, pressing against your chest.
âNot everything I say is a line,â he says with unexpected candor. âNot with you.â
The depth of his sincerity holds you hostage. Standing here, air knocked out of your lungs, you see it clearly; the quiet focus dancing behind his gaze is a silent plea.
His sincerity is so tangible, youâre unsure what to make of it. Unsure what any of this means, but before either of you get the chance to continueâ!
âTaehyung!â
A voice cuts through the moment like a blade, loud and familiar, and unmistakably Jimin.
At the distraction, you pull away from Taehyung. Instead, you stand beside him before Jimin catches you. A small crease forms between Taehyungâs brows, displeased by the sudden distance.
Jimin calls, still out of sight, âTae!âÂ
Taehyungâs gaze holds you for a second longer before exhaling.Â
âUpstairs.â
Peering over the bannister, the view of the foyer veers off to the living room. Enough of the chaos is visible from where you stand; bags scattered by the front door, voices echoing faintly from the kitchen.
Jimin rounds the corner, stepping fully into view. His pink hair catches your attention first, bright under the lights. His shirt is long gone, a lei hanging around his neckâno doubt Seokjinâs if the neon pink colour is anything to go byâand a pair of swim shorts adorn his hips.
He pauses as he catches sight of you, doing a quick double take.
âOh - hey, Y/N!â
You return his smile. âHey, Chim.â
âHow was the drive up?â
âJoon was driving, soâŚâ
âAt least you had better company,â Jimin says, nodding toward Taehyung. âWe were stuck with Captain Brood over here.â
Glancing at Taehyung, you snort. Heâs never been a morning person, even when heâs up willingly. At best, youâll get a grunt until heâs had coffee and stared blankly at a wall for ten minutes.
Humming, your gaze lingers on him. âIâm honestly surprised he even made breakfast this morning.â
Jiminâs brows lift. âHe made breakfast?â
Before you can reply, Taehyung cuts in, âWhat do you want?â
For a second, Jiminâs gaze lingers on you, something curious flickering across his face.
âYour ass downstairs.â Jiminâs hands slip into his pockets. âWe need to unload JKâs car.â
âFind someone else.â
âNo.â
âIâm busy.â
Heâs been bothering you for several minutes, having done absolutely nothing of importance. And if anyone can pick up on that, itâs Jimin. Heâs come over often enough to know the two of you together consists of nothing productive.
âGet busy later,â Jimin replies, unimpressed. âIâm not carrying the groceries myself.â
Taehyung frowns. âWhereâs Kook? Itâs his damn car.â
âTaking a shit.â
Typical. Of course, the first thing Jungkook does is claim a bathroom by stenching it.
âWhich washroom?â you ask, scanning around the foyer.
A thumb jerks over his shoulder. âHeâs in that one.â
Following the trajectory of his thumb, you make a mental note not to avoid that toilet. Jungkook has a natural talent of being a nasty shitâliterally and figuratively.Â
A second later, a groan echoes across the foyer.
âFucker,â Seokjin mutters, rounding the corner with a sneer. âI told him to use any other bathroom but that one.â
âYou told Jungkook not to do something, and he did it?â Jimin wears a flat stare. âShocker.â
âFuck off,â Seokjin grumbles. âHe had Mexican last night. Dudeâs gonna clog my fucking pipes, againâ!â
âIâM SHITTING, NOT DEAF, MOTHERFUCKER!â
Jungkookâs voice bellows from behind the bathroom door, booming through the house.
Hands immediately flying to your mouth, unable to stop the laughter spilling out of you. Jiminâs brows are in his hairline, Taehyung blinks with disbelief, shoulders shaking silently, and Seokjin marches toward the bathroom door, fuming.
âOvergrown shit!â he yells, punctuating the insult with a swift kick to the door..
Inside, Jungkook cackles, âWhatâs that, old man? You want a whiff of this?â
Seokjin looks appalled, and a second later, he and Jungkook are bickering through the closed door. Chaos ensues, layered with shouting and exaggerated gagging sounds.Â
Jimin murmurs, âIdiots.â
Seokjin whips around. âGroceries, Park. Or youâre getting locked in there once heâs done.â
Jiminâs eyes widen with slight fear, turning to face you both again. âTae. Get down now.â
Taehyung groans, clearly uninterested in moving the groceries out of the car. âFine,â he mutters, pushing off the railing with a huff. âComing.â
At the top of the stairs, Taehyung pauses as if on the verge of saying something. But just as quickly, itâs gone.
Instead, he says, âIâll find you later.â
Not waiting for a response, he takes the stairs two at a time, the soft thud of his footsteps growing fainter with each step.
His choice of words doesnât go unnoticed; find rather than see. Although you enjoy the promise of seeing him againâhim seeking youâitâs a short-lived dream.
Taehyung will find his usual rhythm as he normally does. Attention will gravitate towards him, and his charisma will charm spectators whoâll refuse his focus to wander. Heâll disappear into someone elseâs orbit as always, wrapped around someone elseâs time. Despite the promise, you know better than to hold him to it.Â
Still, hope clings stubbornly.Â
Long after returning to your room, your thoughts linger by the bannister, stuck in a moment that fled as quickly as it came.
Not with you.
He hadnât been teasing.
And thatâs the scariest part.
Everyoneâs arrived now, the house mainly full of familiar faces.
Despite anticipating it, there arenât as many new faces as last time. Seokjinâs guest list is shorter, meaning heâs grown wiser, or heâs haunted by last yearâs cleaning bill still.
Four shattered coffee tables, spray paint on the garage doors, and an angry set of parents tend to add perspective.
Guests scatter everywhere: sprawled on faded towels down by the shore, ankle-deep in the surf, shouting across the sand during a sloppy game of volleyball. Others linger near the house, plastic cups in hand, hopping between drinking gamesâbeer pong, flip cup, kingâs cup.
And then thereâs your group.
Tucked into one corner of the wooden deck, playing a game of Hear Me Out thatâs gotten progressively worse with every round. Mainly because beneath mismatched fairy lights, slouched in the couch and beanbags, youâre passing a joint between each other, letting the world soften at the edges, thoughts loosened.
âAlright.â Namjoon takes a swing of his beer. âJKâs turn.â
Jungkook wears a victorious smile as his phone turns to face the group. âPennywise.â
Namjoon spits out his drink.Â
âYouâre joking.â Zoe looks around the group bewildered. âHeâs joking, right?â
Beside her, Yoongi, her boyfriend, takes a slow drag of the joint. Heâs the least surprised, expecting this level of chaoticism from Jungkook.Â
Beside you, Maya wrinkles her nose. âThe clown?â
Jungkook grins, all teeth and no shame. âYup.â
Seokjin blinks. âYouâre unwell.â
âYouâd smash Nick Wilde, a literal fox, and everyone agreed like that was normal. I say clown dick and suddenly Iâm the problem?â
Seokjin shakes his head, leaning back into his flamingo throne. âOne is a charming, street-smart con artist. The other literally eats kids.â
Jungkook lifts both hands like a scale. âBestiality.â He raises one. âClown.â He lifts the other. âWhich is worse?â
Before anyone can reply, Hoseok shoots him a look. âYou chose Judy Hopps last round.â
âIrrelevant,â Jungkook replies.
Namjoon raises a finger, as if trying to put some order back into the madness. âOkay, wait. Why the demon clown?â
âTall. Good bone structure. Killer smile.â
Dryly, you add, âA murderer.â
Jungkook gives you a flat stare. âYouâd fuck Slender Man. You donât get to judge.â
âTall, faceless, well-dressed mystery man?â A brow arches. âAny time, any fucking day.â
âSlender Man is the better demon,â Hoseok chimes, nodding. âDude shows up in a suit. Hot.â
âSlender Man is a faceless freak who kidnaps children in the woods,â Yoongi deadpans.
Zoe eyes her boyfriend. âYouâd rather a clown who eats them?âÂ
Instantly, the group splits into debate: Pennywise or Slender Man. Chatter overlaps with horrified hypotheticals about how sex with either one of them would be. Zoe insists clowns are the stuff of trauma, Namjoonâs arguing for ethical monster choices, and Hoseok mutters about the need for a ârules of decencyâ clause in Hear Me Out.Â
âAlright,â Namjoonâs voice slices through the buzz of conversation. âJungkook, take the shot. Youâre outnumbered.â
Jungkook makes a sound of discontent in the back of his throat. âThat was an even split. Hoseok, Yoongi, Jin, and Jimin agree with me.â
âYO, CHIM!â Jungkook shouts toward the other end of the deck.
From where heâs locked in a beer pong battle, Jimin responds with equal aggression. âSHUT UP!â
Heâs mid-round in a game of beer pong with Taehyung, Sana (Seokjinâs cousin and an annual beach house guest), and Sanaâs friend, Minji.Â
Judging by the table, Jimin and Taehyung are desperate for a redemption arc: Sana and Minjiâs side still has a neat row of cups, while the boysâ side is empty. Jiminâs eyes sharpen as he lines up his next shot.
And thenâ!
âYOUâD FUCK PENNYWISE OVER SLENDER MAN, RIGHT?â
The ball misses the table entirely, bouncing on the wooden deck with a sad clunk.
Jimin stares after it, stupefied.
Jungkook whistles low. âShit shot, Chim.â
âYou fuckerâ!â
âPennywise, though, right?â
Jimin turns to him, gaze hard. âWhy the fuck are you asking me?â
Jungkook blinks. âYouâve literally fucked a clown.â
Maya chokes on her drink, erupting into a fit of coughs as the attention sets on Jimin.Â
Everyone waits to hear Jiminâs response. Taehyung doesnât even bother to mourn the loss, watching Jimin as if he, too, is learning something new about his best friend.
âWhen?â
Jungkook smirks. âYour ex.â
âARE YOU FUCKING KIDDINGâ!â
Jungkook turns away, jerking a thumb in Jiminâs direction. âYeah, he agrees.â
A pillow whizzes through the air and smacks the side of Jungkookâs face with a thwack. Heâs stunned, blinking as laughter explodes around the room. However, an instant later, heâs jumping over the couch, barreling straight for Jimin.
Insults and physical threats are carelessly tossed around as they circle the beer pong table.Â
Zoe laughs, leaning into Yoongiâs side. âRemind me why I voluntarily joined this chaos?â
Yoongi glances at her, mouth quirking. âBecause you love me.â
She hums, feigning thought. âDo I?â
âHelplessly.â
Her brow lifts. âBold assumption.â
âAnd true,â he adds, brushing his thumb lightly over her knee where his hand rests.
A small smile tugs on her lips. âIf you werenât so smug, I might actually say it.â
Yoonig grins, eyes crinkling. âI can wait.â
An endearing smile curls on your lips.
Itâs Zoeâs first time at the beach house, but youâve known her for monthsâsince Yoongi and her started dating. From the moment she met everyone, she fit in seamlessly into the group, now considered a friend in her own right.
Maya groans dramatically, head falling against the couch. âBe gross somewhere else. I am single and emotionally fragile.â
Maya raises a hand. âYour credibilityâs shot after the last date you set me on.â
âHe was nice!â
âHe brought his puppet on the date!â
A laugh bursts from you, the memory crashing back. Pictures, panicked voice notes, and Mayaâs re-enactment of her date reciting his order through the puppet.
Yoongi asks, âDidnât you fuck him?â
Maya opens her mouth and hesitates.
âAnd my credibility still stands,â Zoe sings-songs. âYouâre welcome.â
Maya takes a long sip of her drink, giving Zoe a look that says shut up. Apparently, if a man is hot enough, puppet-related behavior can be ignored.
âHow do you vet out questionable men, but simultaneously date Yoongi?â you question. âYou have the blueprint to God-tier men, and youâre still bad at this.â
âI have a sane guy this time,â she counters, frowning. âHear me out!â
At your mutual silence, she continues.Â
âHis nameâs Damon. He works with Yoongi at the studio. Yoongi likes him, so âGod-tierâ approved.â She glances at Yoongi, who merely nods. âVolunteers at the local animal shelter. Cute. Really sweet.â
âHard pass,â Maya says, raising her drink. âIâm over sweet.â
Yoongi snorts, âMaya wants guys who are overly dramatic and dressed in pink.â
Maya chokes mid-drink, violently coughing as Yoongi smirks.
Between coughs, she hisses, âJackass.â
Patting her back, you donât miss her glance towards Seokjin, whoâs engrossed in a conversation with Namjoon. He's gesturing animatedly, eyes bright, clearly mid-rant about something ridiculous, and Namjoonâs half-laughing, half-judging whatever it is.
Zoe giggles, following her line of sight. âRight. Forgot.â
Maya objects, âNothingâs going on.â
âOf course.â
âZoe!â
Youâre giggling when the weight on the couch shifts behind you. Without a sound, Taehyung appears, leaning over the backrest, arms folded and close enough to feel his warm breath against your cheek.Â
âHey.â
Your head leans back to rest against the cushion.
Heâs close, the scent of his cologneâlight and airyâwrapping around you. When you tilt your chin just slightly to glance up, your eyes catch on the constellation of moles dusted beneath his eyes, ones that trail like stardust across his face.
Moonlight draws to his presence as easily as you. A soft halo catches in his hair, weaving silver where the sun once lay its bold, sharp edges. Brown eyes an endless ocean of warmth, and you never want to look away.
Before knowing Taehyung, you thought he resembled the sun; his presence loud and untouchable. He filled up a room without even trying. He was golden, magnetic, always surrounded by laughter and attention.
Lately, thatâs shifted.
Taehyung glows under the moonlightâblooms in the darkness. A quiet force that draws you in without demanding a thing; a presence that wraps around you in silence. He doesnât need to be the center of the universe to make you feel like youâve found home in his orbit.
Your gaze lingers on the curve of his cheek, the soft dip under his eye where one of those tiny moles rests.Â
âPretty,â you murmur.
âWhat?â
âYou.â
A rare stillness takes over him.Â
His eyes widen, speechlessânot daring to breathe as if afraid youâll take it back. Your whisper lingers between you, delicate and unafraid, and for the first time in a long time, he falters.
Rarely do you see his breath betray him, and you hope to remember this forever if youâre never to see it again.
His lips curl, soft and warm, resting quietly in your chest. His forehead drops against the backrest with a breathy laugh, hair brushing the fabric. Without thinking, your fingers tangle in the dark locks, alcohol and weed abandoning hesitation.
He turns his head, leaning to your touch.
âJust figuring that out?â he teases.
You donât miss the slight unsteady hitch in his breath.Â
Tugging his hair, you murmur, âDonât make me regret it.â
His eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of your fingers curled in his soft locks. âToo late. Youâve created a monster.â
You scoff, quietly amused. âYouâve been a monster.â
âMaybe,â he concedes as he opens his eyes. âBut now Iâm a pretty one.â
âThis is why I never compliment you.â
âAnd thatâs why I never shut up when you do.â
Before you respond, Zoe calls your name, grabbing your attention. Hand falling limp, you pretend you werenât lost in your own world for a moment. And if she or Yoongi noticed, they donât mention it.
You donât, however, miss the smirk on Mayaâs lips.Â
âSo,â Zoe drawls, âyou doing this or what?â
Every muscle stiffens at her words.Â
Behind you, Taehyung shifts to stand straighter, but his posture remains relaxed. Even as he lifts his drink to his lips, you feel the weight of his attention honing in.
âMaya has other interests,â Zoe continues, a sly smirk towards Maya. âBut you donât.â
Your voice sharpens. âZoeâ!â
âIâm just saying,â she starts, unbothered, âitâs been a while. And youâve been complaining about needing a good fuck.â
Maya breaks into a fit of coughs, sounding suspiciously similar to laughter. Yoongi pretends not to hear, suddenly finding something interesting on his phone. Meanwhile, youâre silently praying the Earth will swallow you whole.Â
Zoe snorts. âThatâs because you donât notice anything beyond your own dick, Tae.â
He hums, rich and unhurried. âNot true,â he muses. âIâm very attentive. Especially when it comes to Y/N.â
Your stomach flips.
A simple statement to others, but one that holds secrets that weigh heavily on you. Which is why the worry gnaws on your chest, a slight panic about where this conversation heads.
Zoe snorts, rolling her eyes. âSheâs practically taken a vow of celibacy. How have you not noticed?â
He chuckles. âIs that right?â
Heat crawls up your neck. âCan we notâ!â
âYou live with her.â Zoe gestures towards you, raising a questioning brow. âYou would know about her celibacy better than anyone.â
Taehyung makes a thoughtful sound. âDefine celibate.â
You donât have to turn around to picture the sly curve of his mouth, the lazy tilt of his head. You know Taehyungâs tells by heart; the lazy velvet drawl, the tilt of amusement. For a moment, you forget this isnât your usual game.Â
Then Zoe speaks, and the ground shifts.
âRight.â Zoe rolls her eyes. âBack to the matter at handâ!â
Fear ceases you. âZoeâ!â
âDamon is a really great guy,â she continues, undeterred. âAnd if you donât hit it off, heâs still hot enough to break your celibacy streak.â
Gravity rearranges itself, the world shifting on its axis. His silence fills the air, heavy and deliberate, night itself waiting for his reaction.Â
Taehyungâs voice cuts low and deceptively even. âYouâre going on a date?â
You answer fast. âNo.â
Simultaneously, Zoe chirps, âYes.â
A beat of silence. Taehyung lets out a low hum. Not amusedânot quite anything, really.
âItâs not a date,â you rush to explain, feeling defensive. âI havenât even said yes.â
âWhatâs there to decide?â Zoe asks, unaware of the slowly building tension. âLet loose and have some fun. Taehyung, back me up here.â
Your spine is too rigid, hands too still in your lap.
Awareness prickles the back of your neck, one that exists when Taehyungâs watching. His gaze burns into the back of your head, but you refuse to face him.Â
You canât.Â
Guilt crashes into you, sharp and disorienting.Â
It swells in your chest, pressing down on your lungs until youâre half-convinced something needs to be said. Desperate to offer an explanation for a crime you havenât even committed.Â
But before you can say anythingâ!
âSure,â Taehyung says. âWhy not?â
Thatâs it?
His expression is unreadable, gaze steady on the rim of his cup as he takes a slow sip, unbothered.
Blinking, you ask, âWhat?â
âYou should go for it.â He shrugs, a teasing smile finding his face. âMight finally get that stick out your ass.âÂ
His teasing has always unnerved you, always found its way easily under your skin. However, this time his teasing bothers you for entirely different reasons, brows furrowing deeper.
âFinally!â Zoe cries. âSomeone else who sees it. Iâll text you his deats right now.â
A second later, your phone buzzes. Glancing down, you find a thread of messages lighting your screen.
zoe: damonâs number: xxx-098-8888
zoe: cute, respectful, great arms
zoe: fuck him đ
Looking up again, Taehyungâs gaze is on your screen, but thereâs nothing behind them. No indifference, no anger, nothing.
As if he doesnât care.
The conversation shifts with ease, and you pretend to listen. Nodding along, you smile when necessary, laugh when needed. Your mind, however, is possessed by worrisome thoughts, keenly aware of Taehyungâs presence behind you.
Aware of how at ease he seems, how he carries on like nothing happened.
Meanwhile, youâre sifting through the pieces, realizing none of it meant anything. Everything built up over these last few months was a game, as suspected.Â
Harmless flirting.
A whisper of more, kissed with the promise of nothing.Â
This is what you claimed you wantedâan easy out. No strings, no fallout. Just clean detachment wrapped in silence.
So why do you fall further and further into despair?
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a/n: So it was going to be three parts originally, I think it's going to be more like four or five. Yoongi is still an asshole. But maybe a little less than we originally thought.......
I don't have a tag list (not totally sure how to go about doing one lol) but someone did ask to be tagged, so let me know if you want tagging I guess đ
Genre: angst, smut, royalty au, arranged marriage au
Word Count: 14.8k
Summary: She was never his choice- until she became his world.
Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, angst, smut, royalty au, slow burn?, power struggle, age gap (10 yrs), older jungkook, arranged marriage, (somewhat) enemies to lovers, jealousy, jungkook is a meanie đ, possessiveness, hurt/comfort, politics, soft love, declarations, explicit: multiple smut scenes, consensual, unprotected sex, cold/obligatory sex, power play, loving sex, praise, degradation, oral (f. receiving), fingering, clit play, overstimulation
A/N: this was a request from a lovely anon 𫶠friends, i redid the outline for this multiple times bc i normally shy away from fantasies/royalty, so it was cool to try it out! hopefully it lives up to expectations!! (also i rlly donât know what time period this is so just imagine wtv đŤŠ)
Note: jungkookâs pov is noted. if it isnât- itâs y/nâs! also y/n is 21, jungkook is 31, jisoo is 26
LINK TO REQUEST ⥠MASTERLIST ⥠a03
âââââââ
The mirror stares back at you like itâs trying to convince you of something.
That youâre beautiful. That youâre lucky. That this is what youâve always wanted.
But the mirror lies.
Youâre dressed in layers of ivory lace and silk so heavy it feels like armor. Gold threads snake across your bodice like vines, binding you into a shape you barely recognize. Somewhere behind you, handmaidens fuss with ribbons and brocade, cooing soft words you donât hear. Your reflection looks poised- majestic, even.
But you feel like youâre drowning beneath the weight of expectation.
Your chest tightens. Not from nerves. No, youâd welcome nerves. This is worse. This is suffocation. The perfume in the room is too sweet. The silence, too loud. Every delicate âPrincessâ that slips from a servantâs tongue hits like a blade.
Youâre getting married today.
To a man youâve barely spoken to.
A man whoâs ten years older.
A prince from a kingdom that needed a treaty more than a love story.
You catch your own gaze in the mirror again. Your lips are painted, your hair perfectly pinned, your veil stitched with symbols older than your name. You look like a queen-in-the-making.
But inside?
Youâre unraveling.
âToo tight,â you say sharply, not looking at the handmaiden tying your corset.
She freezes. âApologies, Your HighnessâŚâ
You stand abruptly, fingers tugging the laces yourself until the pressure eases from your ribs.
âLeave,â you murmur.
They hesitate.
âI said leave.â
Their skirts whisper across the marble floor as they vanish, one by one, until the room is yours again. Quiet. Empty. Suffocating.
You exhale shakily and lower yourself onto the velvet stool near the fire. You should feel like a bride. Instead, you feel like a pawn being moved across a glittering board.
A knock at the door makes your spine go rigid.
âCome in,â you say, voice tighter than youâd like.
The door creaks open. And there she is.
Jisoo.
Your older sister. Your kingdomâs golden girl.
She steps inside delicately, wrapped in blush silk with her hair softly swept up, eyes wide with sympathy you donât want. Sheâs everything gentle and graceful the court adores. She looks like spring in human form.
And she looks like someoneâs first choice.
âSoo,â you say, your tone unsure- too many emotions knotted in one syllable.
She smiles. Soft. Almost apologetic. âYou look⌠stunning.â
You blink at her. âWhy werenât you here earlier?â
âI thought youâd want to be alone.â
âI didnât,â you admit. âNot today.â
She hesitates a step from you. Her fingers curl into each other.
You feel the question bubbling before you can stop it. âDoes he love you?â
The words spill out like poison.
Jisooâs expression flickers- guilt, shock, something unreadable but she catches it before it fully forms. âY/NâŚâ
âYou donât have to lie,â you whisper. âNot today.â
âI never encouraged it.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â
âI didnât know.â
âYou mustâve known.â Your voice cracks just slightly. âHe looks at you like youâre the crown he lost.â
Jisoo swallows, her voice quiet. âHeâs marrying you.â
You stare into the fire, the flickering light licking at your gown like flame to paper. âBut he wanted you.â
She doesnât answer. And her silence says more than a confession ever could.
You donât blame her. Not really. But that doesnât make it hurt any less.
âMaybe you should be the one marrying him,â you say, not able to meet her eyes.
âI would never take this from you,â she breathes.
You turn to face her finally. âWould it really be stealing if I was just keeping your seat warm?â
The air between you thickens. Youâre not angry at her. Not really. Youâre angry at fate. At politics. At the cold man waiting at the altar who wants a different bride.
Jisoo takes a step closer. âYouâre stronger than you think.â
âNo, Iâm just better at pretending.â
She reaches out to touch your shoulder. You donât pull away, but you donât lean in either.
âHeâll learn to love you,â she says gently. âAnyone would.â
You let out a dry laugh, sharp as glass. âYou donât learn to love someone like me. You endure her.â
The bell tolls outside- three slow, echoing chimes that stretch across the walls like the opening notes of a funeral dirge.
Itâs time.
You rise. Your gown shifts like water. You steady your shoulders, straighten your crown. You feel her watching you, but you canât look at her again.
Because you are walking down the aisle
Not as the girl he dreamed of. Not as the sister he wanted. But as the bride heâs stuck with.
The chapel smells like ancient roses and old prayers.
You glide down the aisle slowly, deliberately, as the eyes of two kingdoms drink you in. The train of your gown trails behind you like spilled moonlight. Hundreds of royals, nobles, and dignitaries line the carved pews, all dressed in silks and golds, but none of them matter. You feel them watching, judging, whispering about your age, your family, your worth.
But you only look forward.
You keep your eyes on the altar where Prince Jeon Jungkook stands like heâs carved from ice.
He doesnât smile.
Not even a flicker of warmth touches his face when he sees you. His expression remains cold, impassive, lips a straight line, shoulders square. You wonder if he even sees you or if heâs just counting the seconds until this political obligation is complete.
The music swells. The world fades.
You reach him.
He doesnât offer his hand.
The High Cleric begins the ceremony with blessings in a language older than either of your kingdoms. You barely hear the words. Your fingers are trembling in your gloves. You feel like youâre underwater. Everything is soft and distant and slow.
Until itâs time for the vows.
You turn to face him. And his eyes arenât on you.
Theyâre on her.
You see it. Just for a second. A flicker. A heartbeat. But itâs real.
His gaze shifts- barely, subtly- but you know the direction. You donât even have to look.
Jisoo.
Sheâs seated near the front. Pale dress. Downcast eyes. Perfect posture. As still and serene as a statue. She doesnât move. Doesnât acknowledge it.
But you feel it. All of it.
The phantom of his feelings for her settles like a chill between your ribs.
âRepeat after me,â the Cleric intones, unaware of the slow fracture blooming in your chest.
You say the words.
You pledge your body, your name, your crown.
You do not cry.
He says the words, too. Calm. Flat. Emotionless. He binds himself to you in front of gods and ghosts, but his voice doesnât tremble. Not from nerves. Not from affection.
Because he feels nothing.
He lifts your veil. His hands are steady. Distant.
Your first kiss as husband and wife is just that- a formality. His lips brush yours like the passing of winter wind. No passion. No warmth. No curiosity.
The crowd erupts into applause.
You smile.
You have to.
He offers you his arm.
You take it.
You walk down the aisle together, shoulder to shoulder but not touching, as cheers rain down from the golden arches of the chapel.
You smile.
You have to.
And though you can feel him beside youâŚÂ
he says nothing.
âââââââ
The ballroom gleams with gold and artifice.
Youâre standing in the center of it, hand in hand with a man who hasnât spoken a word to you all day. Not during the procession. Not during the ceremony. Not after the kiss. Not when he escorted you down the aisle like he was walking beside a shadow.
And now, in front of hundreds of watching eyes, itâs time for the first dance.
The music begins. You take one step forward, and so does he.
His gloved hand rests against your waist like heâs afraid to touch you too firmly- as if contact might imply something that isnât there. His other hand holds yours, just tight enough to be respectful, just distant enough to make your stomach sink.
You lift your eyes to his.
And for the first time, he speaks, âYou should smile.â
Your breath catches.
âThatâs what theyâre expecting,â he continues, voice low, precise. âA happy bride. A glowing princess.â
You try to smile, but it curls wrong on your lips.
âAnd you?â you murmur, eyes still fixed on his. âAre you pretending too?â
His grip tightens ever so slightly. âIâm fulfilling a role.â
You laugh- soft, bitter. âAnd what role is that? Dutiful husband or heartless executioner?â
He doesnât answer.
You move together across the marble floor like strangers trapped in the same song. The music is beautiful, swelling in delicate arcs around you. But you canât feel any of it.
âWhat did I do to make you hate this so much?â you whisper.
He blinks, slowly. âI donât hate you.â
âNo?â you scoff. âThen why wonât you look at me the way you looked at her?â
The words are out before you can stop them. His jaw clenches.
âDonât bring her into this.â
âSheâs already in it,â you breathe. âYou put her there when you looked at her during our vows.â
The music swells again, a waltz that sounds too pretty for this kind of pain.
âI donât want to embarrass you,â he says finally, voice tight.
You force a smile- sharp, graceful, empty. âToo late.â
He turns you in a slow spin, elegant, effortless. From a distance, the court sees perfection. A prince and his new bride, radiant under the candlelight.
But you know better.
You feel the space between your bodies like a scar that hasnât healed yet.
âDo you love her?â you ask, quiet enough for only him to hear.
He doesnât answer.
His silence slices deeper than any truth could.
You feel your chest tighten, throat burning. But your face? Your face stays royal. Untouched. Serene.
âWill I ever be more than her shadow to you?â
You see something flicker in his gaze, but itâs gone as fast as it comes.
âYou were not the choice,â he says at last.
You blink. You stop moving for half a second. Your shoes nearly slip on the polished floor. The world tilts.
But then the music carries on.
So you do too.
He guides you back into motion, and you match him- fluid, poised, empty.
When the music ends, he steps back. Bows. You curtsy.
Applause erupts across the hall. And you smile so wide it almost cracks your face open.
âââââââ
The halls are empty when youâre escorted to the royal bedchamber.
No music now. No guests. No watching eyes. Just the sound of your heels against marble and your pulse humming beneath your skin.
The doors are already open.
Heâs already inside.
You step in carefully, unsure of what youâll find. The room is as grand as you imagined- pillars of carved obsidian, embroidered silks draped from the high ceiling, a fire crackling in the hearth like itâs mocking you with its warmth. A table is set with untouched wine. Rose petals litter the floor like someone believed romance could be faked.
He stands by the window, facing away from you. Still dressed in full ceremonial regalia. Still silent.
The doors shut behind you with a hollow thud.
You wait.
You donât know what youâre waiting for. Instructions? Affection? A beginning?
Instead, you get nothing.
You unclasp your cloak. It falls silently around your feet. Your hair is pinned and tight, your corset aching against your ribs. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to be held.
But he still wonât look at you.
âItâs done,â you say quietly, just to break the silence.
He hums in acknowledgment. Doesnât turn.
You take a step forward, cautious. âIs there something youâd like me to do?â
At last, he speaks. âSleep. Thatâs all.â
Thatâs all.
The words hang heavy in the air.
You try not to show it, but your fingers curl against your side. âIsnât this⌠expected?â
âI donât owe them a performance.â
âAnd me?â you ask.
He turns to face you now, slowly. His expression unreadable. Cold. He looks at you like a decision he regrets making. Like a formality heâs been assigned.
âYou donât want this,â he says.
You flinch at the assumption. âYou donât know what I want.â
âYou want love. Passion. Devotion.â He crosses his arms. âIâm not the man who gives those things.â
âNo,â you say, stepping closer, âyouâre the man who gives silence. Distance. Glances meant for someone else.â
His jaw ticks.
You keep going. Youâre tired of swallowing pain. âYou said your vows. You kissed me. You danced with me. And not once did you pretend I was enough.â
âI told you I wouldnât lie to you.â
âOh, so this is honesty?â you snap. âThis- coldness. This rejection. This⌠emptiness?â
He sighs. Runs a hand through his hair. His voice is quieter now. âItâs mercy.â
You shake your head. âItâs cruelty.â
Neither of you speak for a long moment.
You break the silence again. âDid you ever think that maybe I didnât want to be just some treaty girl, either? That I didnât want to marry a man in love with someone else?â
His face flickers. Just briefly.
You donât know what emotion it is. Pity? Guilt? Regret?
But it fades too quickly to hold onto.
âYou can sleep in here if you want,â he says, voice controlled again. âOr Iâll have a separate room prepared.â
You take a deep breath, walk past him toward the bed. You donât look at him. Not this time.
âIâll stay here,â you say softly. âNot because I want you. But because this is my marriage, too.â
You sit on the edge of the bed, spine straight, heart hollow. And he walks away without another word.
The doors close.
You are alone.
Again.
You unlace your corset with trembling fingers. You slide the jewelry off your skin like itâs shackles. You curl beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling that feels more like sky than stone.
And for the first time since the ceremony began, you let the tears fall. No one hears them. No one sees. And when morning comes, you will wear the crown like it never hurt.
âââââââ
The palace is dead quiet after midnight.
You lie still in the enormous bed, staring up at the carved ceiling, your body wrapped in satin, your heart wrapped in stone.
Jungkook came back hours ago.
He didnât speak when he entered.
He didnât speak when he undressed, carefully, methodically, folding his ceremonial uniform with military precision and draping a robe over his bare chest. He didnât speak when he climbed into the opposite side of the bed, a world away from your side.
He just turned his back to you.
And that was that.
You listened to his breathing even out. Watched the fire in the hearth dim into embers. Let the weight of the sheets press your body down like a crown too heavy to wear.
Sleep never came.
The silence around you was too loud.
You watched the moonlight crawl across the walls until your eyes ached. You imagined what it mightâve felt like to be chosen. To be wanted. To be seen.
You almost didnât hear it.
A whisper. Barely there.
You blink, breath catching, your body frozen as stone.
Then again- soft. Muffled. Threaded with sleep.
ââŚJisooâŚâ
Your heart stops.
The name barely drips from his mouth- half breath, half confession- but itâs real. It slithers through the shadows between you like smoke.
ââŚJisooâŚâ
He shifts in the bed beside you, still deep in dreams.
And you?
Youâre wide awake.
The ache in your chest is immediate and consuming. Sharp enough to make your eyes water, soft enough to break you slowly. You donât speak. Donât move.
You lie there, paralyzed. Because how can you scream when the knife was never even meant for you?
It was a whisper. A sleep-talk. A mistake.
But it was her name. Not yours.
Not once tonight- not in his gaze, not in his vows, not in his arms- did you belong to him. But her? She owns the quietest part of him. The part he doesnât even guard.
You turn your head toward him slowly. His face is peaceful in sleep. Untroubled. Like he hasnât just carved you open.
You stare at him for a long time.
And for the first time since this all began, you donât feel sad. You feel cold.
Numb. Resolved.
You pull the covers tighter around you- not for warmth, but for armor.
He may have married you.
But he dreams of her.
And if he thinks youâll stay quiet forever, if he thinks youâll simply live in her shadowâŚ
He doesnât know you at all.
âââââââ
The first week of marriage does not belong to you.
It belongs to the court.
Every morning begins with a maid waking you before the sun, layering you in gowns chosen by someone else, and fitting a crown so heavy you can feel it in your spine. Every day ends with aching cheeks from holding the same smile for hours.
They donât call you by name anymore.
Youâre Her Royal Highness, Princess Consort of the Northern Kingdom.
A title. Not a person.
The palace calendar is full- parades, charity luncheons, handshakes with foreign diplomats, appearances at schools, hospitals, markets. At each stop, you are arranged like part of the decor. A jeweled accessory for the princeâs arm.
He almost never offers it.
When he does, itâs for the benefit of the crowd. An elbow bent at a perfect angle, a smile carved into place like it was taught, not felt. Heâs a master of performance.
So are you.
The people cheer for the image of you both. They throw flower petals into the street, shout blessings, push forward to glimpse their fairytale couple.
If only they knew fairytales rot when the gold is only paint.
At the textile factory, you stand beside him while the foreman gushes about the kingdomâs prosperity. At the ribbon-cutting for a new bridge, youâre handed the scissors, smiling for the press while Jungkook stares past you at some distant point, as though the moment doesnât require him.
Sometimes, you catch yourself wondering if he forgets youâre even there.
Youâve learned the choreography. Sit still. Smile faintly. Look engaged, but not outspoken. Be regal, but not commanding. Be graceful, but not bold.
Be there.
But never be.
The only time you feel remotely human is during the carriage rides between engagements, when the curtains are drawn, and the crowds canât see you.
Thatâs when the silence between you becomes unbearable. He doesnât speak.
You donât either.
But you glance at him once, catching his profile in the dim light. Itâs like looking at a portrait- beautiful, distant, untouchable. You turn away before he can feel you watching.
By the end of the week, youâve perfected the role:
A crown without a voice.
âââââââ
It happens because it has to.
Not because he wants you. Not because you want him. But because itâs expected. Because the kingdom will talk if it doesnât.
The door opens without a knock. You glance up from your seat on the edge of the bed, silk robe tied loosely around your waist, hair falling over your shoulders. He steps inside, closing the door with quiet finality.
âWe need to talk,â you say.
âNot tonight.â His voice is low, clipped, as he shrugs out of his coat. âThis isnât a conversation.â
Your brow furrows. âThen what is it?â
He looks at you but itâs the way a jeweler inspects a gem before deciding if itâs worth setting. âItâs whatâs required,â he says. âFor the line. For the crown.â
Your chest tightens. You know the courtâs whispers- how the marriage will be scrutinized until you produce an heir. You know the timeline they expect. Youâd expected distance. You hadnât expected to feel like an appointment.
He approaches slowly, rolling his cuffs to his forearms. When he stops in front of you, he doesnât touch you right away- just stands there until the air between you grows heavy.
When he stops in front of you, he looks down at you with the same expression he wears in court- measured, guarded, cold.
âStand up,â he says.
The command leaves no room for hesitation. You rise.
His hands land on your waist, not with affection but with control, guiding you closer. His mouth meets yours in a kiss that isnât really a kiss- no give, no hunger, no softness. You press harder anyway, trying to spark something. He responds by gripping your jaw, holding you still.
âYouâre trying too hard,â he murmurs.
âAt least Iâm trying,â you bite back.
A slow, humorless smile curves his lips. âCareful.â
He turns you with deliberate force until your knees meet the bed. You sit. He follows, untying your robe in one smooth pull. It falls to your sides, cool air grazing bare skin.
His gaze sweeps over you- assessing, not admiring. âBeautiful,â he says, tone flat. âBut beauty doesnât make you powerful.â
You swallow. âThen what does?â
His eyes lift to yours, sharp as steel. âControl. And you donât have any here.â
The word sends a shiver down your spine- half fear, half something you donât want to name.
He presses you back into the mattress with a firm hand to your shoulder, sliding the robe from your arms. His touch is skilled, confident, but thereâs no tenderness. Every movement feels deliberate- designed to take without giving.
You arch into him once, testing him. His palm flattens against your sternum, holding you down.
âDo you think Iâll lose myself for you?â he asks softly, mockingly. âYou canât provoke me into wanting you.â
The words burn hotter than his hands.
When he finally takes you, itâs with the same efficiency as everything else he does- controlled, unhurried, purposeful. The sounds in the room are soft but sharp: the creak of the bed, your shallow breaths, the low rumble of his voice telling you to hold still.
His grip on your hips is firm, guiding you exactly how he wants. You try to match his rhythm, to pull him closer. He shifts his hold, pinning your wrists above your head against the mattress.
âNot yours to lead,â he says. âNot tonight. Not ever.â
Itâs almost clinical. Almost mechanical. Your body reacts anyway- heat, breathlessness, the helpless ache for more. But you know heâs watching every flicker of your expression like a general studying an opponentâs next move.
When itâs over, he pulls away immediately. No lingering touch. No kiss. Just rises, adjusting his clothes with the same precision he undid them.
Youâre still catching your breath when he looks at you one last time. âThis is duty, Princess. Donât confuse it with anything else.â
And then heâs gone.
The door shuts behind him.
You stay there, robe open, pulse still racing- not from closeness, but from the sting of his words.
âââââââ
The council chamber smells faintly of parchment, polished wood, and the faint metallic tang of ambition.
You sit in the gilded chair to Jungkookâs right, posture flawless, hands folded in your lap. Itâs your first time attending a full royal council since the wedding. Youâre here to listen. To be silent. To play the part of the well-bred consort.
At least, thatâs what they expect.
The chamber doors close, and the discussion begins. Ministers rise, presenting their concerns: border tensions with the Western Kingdom, grain shortages in the southern provinces, a brewing dispute with the merchant guilds.
Your husband listens with that same infuriating calm, speaking only when necessary, voice even, deliberate. A king in training.
But when the Minister of Trade suggests raising tariffs on imported grain to âincentivizeâ local production, something twists in your chest.
âThat would starve half the southern provinces,â you say, before you can stop yourself.
Every head in the room turns.
Jungkookâs gaze cuts to you. Sharp. Warning.
The Minister blinks, surprised. âYour Highness, the measure-â
â-would drive up prices so high,â you continue, âthat families already struggling would have to choose between bread and rent. And if the people are hungry, unrest follows. That is not âincentive,â Minister. That is negligence.â
Murmurs ripple through the chamber.
Jungkookâs voice is quiet but firm. âPrincess-â
You turn your head slowly, meeting his eyes. âAm I mistaken?â
A pause. His jaw tightens.
âYou are⌠uninformed,â he says at last.
You lean forward, resting your hands on the table. âThen perhaps inform me. Tell me how destabilizing our food supply will help secure your rule. Or ours.â
A faint gasp from one of the scribes. A few ministers look away, hiding smirks. The Minister of Trade fidgets.
Jungkookâs expression doesnât change, but you see the flicker in his eyes- anger, yes, but something else. Curiosity.
You look back at the table. âInstead of tariffs, subsidize local farmers to increase production. Buy excess grain directly from them at fair prices, then sell it cheaply in the provinces that need it most. The treasury loses nothing if the surplus is sold abroad. Everyone wins. The farmers, the provinces, the crown.â
The room goes still.
Then, slowly, the Minister of Agriculture nods. âItâs⌠a sound plan.â
More murmurs. Agreement.
Jungkook leans back in his chair, studying you like heâs seeing you for the first time. You can feel his gaze on your skin, hot and assessing.
âVery well,â he says finally. âWeâll consider the Princessâs⌠suggestion.â
Itâs not an admission. Not in his tone.
But youâve already won.
When the meeting ends, you rise before he does, smoothing your skirts. As you pass his chair, you feel his hand catch your wrist under the table.
You glance down at him.
His voice is low, for you alone. âWe will discuss this later.â
You smile sweetly. âOf course, Your Highness.â
And you leave the chamber with your head high, the echo of your heels a victory drumbeat in the quiet hall. Yet, the moment the council doors close behind you, you know heâs following.
Your heels click against the marble corridor, echoing between the towering pillars. You donât turn around, but you can feel him gaining on you- steady, purposeful, silent.
You make it halfway to your chambers before his hand closes around your wrist.
He pulls you into a side room- an antechamber lined with bookshelves and an unused writing desk- and shuts the door hard enough to rattle the hinges.
The air changes instantly.
He steps closer. Not close enough to touch, but enough that you can feel the weight of him, the way his presence seems to draw the oxygen from the room.
âDonât ever do that again,â he says, voice low, razor-edged.
You arch a brow. âSpeak?â
âUndermine me in front of my council.â His gaze is molten steel, locked on yours. âYou embarrassed me.â
You take a deliberate step forward, closing some of the space between you. âI saved you from making a decision that wouldâve turned half your kingdom against you.â
His jaw flexes. âThatâs not your place.â
âAnd sitting there like a decorative vase is?â Your voice is calm, but each word lands sharp.
He moves closer, forcing you to back up until the edge of the desk presses against the back of your thighs. His hands plant on either side of you, caging you in without touching. âYou donât understand how dangerous it is to overstep in that room.â
You tilt your chin up. âI understand perfectly. Theyâll eat you alive if they think youâre weak. And nothing says weakness like a wife too afraid to speak her mind.â
His eyes narrow. âYou think youâre clever.â
âI know I am.â
For a moment, thereâs only the sound of your breathing. His gaze drops briefly- not to your mouth, but to the stubborn lift of your chin- then returns to your eyes.
âYou enjoy provoking me,â he says quietly.
âOnly when you deserve it.â
One corner of his mouth twitches- not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. âCareful, Princess. If you make a habit of this, you might find I have⌠inventive ways of teaching obedience.â
You lean just slightly into the space between you, your voice a whisper. âAnd if you keep underestimating me, you might find I have inventive ways of winning.â
The tension between you is almost unbearable- not heat, not tenderness, just raw defiance meeting raw authority.
Finally, he pushes back, giving you space. âYouâre not stupid,â he says. âBut you are mine to manage.â
You smooth your skirts, stepping past him toward the door. âIf you think Iâll be managed, Your Highness⌠you really havenât been paying attention.â
You donât wait for him to follow.
âââââââ
5 years earlier (jungkookâs pov):Â
The gala had been suffocating.
Perfume and politics choked the air inside the ballroom. Every step, every word, every glance felt calculated. The music was loud enough to cover whispers but not loud enough to drown them out.
Jungkook slipped through a side door.
The night air hit him like a blessing- cool, crisp, tinged with the scent of rain. He loosened his collar and exhaled, letting the weight of the crownâs expectations roll off his shoulders, if only for a breath.
Thatâs when he saw her.
Jisoo.
She was standing at the edge of the balcony, moonlight touching the soft curve of her cheek. A pale silk gown flowed around her like water. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her lips moving faintly as she hummed something he didnât recognize.
She turned when she heard him.
âOh- Your Highness,â she said, voice light, careful. She curtsied, the movement graceful, unhurried. âI didnât realize anyone else would be out here.â
âI needed air,â he admitted.
Her smile was small but knowing. âSo did I.â
They stood there for a moment, the muffled music from the ballroom spilling through the open doors. He should have gone back inside. Instead, he found himself asking, âDo you come to many of these events?â
âMore than Iâd like.â Her gaze drifted toward the gardens below. âBut my father says itâs important to be seen.â
The words were simple. Obvious, even. But the way she said them- steady, resigned, without bitterness-Â struck him. She wasnât like the others inside, scrambling for attention or advantage.
âI suppose heâs right,â he said.
She looked at him then, really looked, and for a second, he thought she might see past the prince to the man beneath. âYou wear the pressure well.â
The compliment shouldnât have mattered. It was the kind of thing royals said to each other all the time. But there was no jest in her tone, no false sweetness. It felt⌠clean.
Someone called her name from inside- a soft summons from a lady-in-waiting.
She dipped her head. âI should go.â
And just like that, she was gone.
Jungkook stayed on that balcony long after, the faint sound of her humming still in his ears.
It had been nothing- a polite exchange in the quiet. But in a life where every word was a weapon, her simplicity had felt like a shield.
Years later, he still told himself she was different.
He never noticed that he didnât know a single thing more about her.
âââââââ
Two months change nothing⌠and everything.
The last time you and Jungkook stood together in the council chamber, you defied him in front of his ministers. He hasnât forgotten. Neither have you.
The winter gala is your first appearance together since then.
The ballroom glitters under crystal chandeliers, every corner alive with silks, jewels, and the low hum of politics disguised as conversation. Gold light spills across polished marble, and the air is warm with the scent of champagne and candle wax.
Youâve chosen your gown carefully.
Silk the color of deep wine, cut low enough at the back to reveal the elegant dip of your spine, the fabric clinging to your curves before spilling loose in a daring slit high on your thigh. By court standards, itâs scandalous. By yours, itâs perfect.
You donât tell Jungkook youâve done it for him.
You tell yourself itâs for you.
The heads turn as soon as you enter on his arm. Ministers pause mid-sentence. Noblewomen whisper behind jeweled fans. Men look longer than they should. You feel the power in it- the way the room bends toward you.
Jungkookâs grip on your arm is tight enough to bruise.
âEnjoying yourself already?â you murmur, eyes fixed forward.
âYou think this is clever?â His voice is low, dangerous. âEvery man here staring at whatâs mine?â
âEvery man here staring at their future queen,â you correct softly.
He doesnât reply, but you feel the tension radiating off him.
And then you see her.
Jisoo.
She stands near the far end of the room, surrounded by a small cluster of dignitaries. Sheâs dressed in soft silver, hair pinned in perfect curls, a picture of refined restraint. The kind of elegance that draws admiration without scandal.
She sees you. She smiles- polite, warm, and just a little too knowing. You smile back, the kind that could be taken for friendliness or challenge.
You make your rounds, greeting nobles, shaking hands, accepting compliments that dance on the edge of impropriety. You can feel Jungkookâs gaze on you even when heâs not beside you- especially when you laugh at another manâs joke, your fingers brushing his sleeve as you speak.
When you finally return to Jungkookâs side, his jaw is tight.
âCareful, Princess,â he says under his breath. âYouâre playing a dangerous game.â
You sip your champagne, unbothered. âSo are you.â
The orchestra swells, the floor clears for the next dance. He offers his hand, not out of romance, but because tradition demands it.
You place your hand in his and let him lead you into the spotlight.
Around you, the court watches. Some curious, some envious, some waiting for one of you to slip.
Under the chandeliers, his hand rests low on your back, almost possessive.
You wonder if heâs imagining Jisoo in your place. You wonder if itâs killing him that he canât look away from you.
âââââââ
The ride back to the palace is silent.
Not the comfortable kind.
The kind that crackles with things unsaid.
You can feel him beside you in the carriage, his body still wound tight, his hand flexing once on his knee as though resisting the urge to act. He doesnât look at you, but his gaze burns into the side of your face all the same.
When the carriage stops, heâs out first, striding through the palace doors without a word. You follow, heels clicking against marble. He doesnât slow down until youâre inside your chambers.
The door shuts hard behind you.
âDo you enjoy humiliating me?â His voice is sharp, each word laced with steel.
You slip off your gloves one finger at a time. âDo you enjoy pretending you own me?â
He takes two steps forward, closing the space between you. âEverything you did tonight- the dress, the smiles, touching him-â
â-was diplomacy,â you cut in. âSomething a ruler should understand.â
His eyes flash, and then heâs crowding you backward until your spine meets the wall. His hand presses against it beside your head, trapping you in place.
âYou wanted my attention?â His voice drops lower, dangerous. âNow you have it.â
Your heart kicks hard, but you lift your chin. âAnd what will you do with it, Your Highness?â
His mouth crashes onto yours- not gentle, not tentative, but claiming. His other hand drags up your thigh, finding the slit in your gown and shoving the silk higher.
âProve to you,â he murmurs against your lips, âthat you can play with anyone else in the room⌠but youâll still end up here.â
You bite his lower lip, pulling back just enough to smirk. âAnd if Iâm not impressed?â
His grip tightens on your hip. âThen Iâll try harder.â
He turns you toward the bed in one swift movement, the skirt of your gown bunching in his fist. You go willingly, but when he pushes you down, you twist to look over your shoulder.
âStill just duty?â you taunt.
He freezes for a fraction of a second- then his hands are on you again, rougher now, dragging you back against the hard, unmistakable shape of his cock through his trousers. âTonight? Itâs a lesson.â
The dress comes off in a series of impatient tugs, pooling on the floor. His palms roam over your bare skin like heâs taking inventory, thumbs digging into your ass before parting you just enough to feel the heat of his breath between your legs. You shiver, but refuse to turn your face away.
His clothes follow- not rushed, but stripped with deliberate precision, every motion dripping with control. When he finally presses the heavy, hot length of him against your entrance, he holds there for a moment, letting you feel every inch before he pushes in.
The stretch is deep and sudden, making your breath catch, your nails digging into the sheets. He doesnât give you time to adjust- his hips drive forward in hard, unrelenting strokes, the thick slide of him hitting deep enough to make you gasp every time. His hands lock your hips in place, forcing you to take him exactly how he wants, his pace a brutal, steady rhythm meant to grind down your defiance.
But you meet every thrust, rocking back against him with just as much force, your slick making every connection filthy and loud.
âSay you belong to me,â he orders, voice ragged.
You shake your head, breathless but smiling even as pleasure twists low in your belly. âNo.â
His mouth is at your ear in the next breath, teeth grazing the shell before his words pour over you like molten heat. âYou will.â
You push back harder, grinding until the head of his cock drags against that sweet, swollen spot inside you. A moan slips free- you swallow it down before it can give him satisfaction. âOr youâll learn I donât belong to anyone.â
The challenge hangs between you, thick as the sweat on your skin. Neither of you slow down, each thrust sharper, wetter, more desperate. The slap of skin fills the room, your breaths tangled with curses and broken sounds youâd never admit to making.
Youâre so close you can feel it buzzing in your bones but you hold it back out of spite, out of sheer will. His fingers slip down between your thighs, finding your clit and circling hard until your resolve cracks and your body shudders around him.
He follows with a deep, savage thrust, spilling into you with a low groan, hips grinding through the aftershocks like heâs branding you from the inside.
When it ends, youâre both breathless, flushed, staring at each other across the tangle of sheets.
He doesnât kiss you. You donât ask him to.
âYouâre exhausting,â he says finally.
âYouâre obsessed,â you reply.
And you both know youâre right.
âââââââ
Two weeks have passed since that night.
The night where anger blurred with want, where neither of you surrendered but both of you took.
Since then, youâve spoken little. Polite exchanges in public, calculated silences in private.
The world sees perfection. You see the cracks.
This morning, the palace gardens are alive with late winter sunlight. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of blooming camellias and damp earth. Youâve always preferred this part of the palace- away from the council chambers, away from the eyes of the court.
Your ladies follow at a respectful distance as you take the marble path toward the upper terrace. The view from there sweeps over the river, the towers, and the city beyond- a reminder of everything that belongs to the crown, if not to you.
Youâre halfway up the wide steps when your heel catches on the edge of your gown.
The world tilts.
Your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp as your foot slides on the slick marble. You stumble forward, ankle twisting hard. The pain shoots up your leg before your knees hit the ground.
And then-Â
Strong hands catch you before you collapse completely.
The scent of warm spice and leather floods your senses.
âY/N.â His voice is low, urgent.
You blink up into Jungkookâs face. For once, his expression isnât composed. His eyes are wide, scanning you for injury.
âMy ankle,â you breathe, wincing as the weight shifts.
Without hesitation, he bends and sweeps you into his arms. The motion startles you, your hands gripping his shoulders instinctively.
âPut me down,â you protest.
âNot a chance,â he says, his tone sharp but not cold. Itâs threaded with something youâve never heard from him before. Fear.
He carries you to a shaded bench, lowering you carefully. His fingers are warm and gentle as they press around the swelling ankle, his jaw tight.
âYouâll be off it for a day at least,â he says.
âItâs just a twist-â
âYouâll rest,â he interrupts, brooking no argument. âIâll have a physician sent immediately.â
You tilt your head. âAre you⌠worried?â
His eyes meet yours. For a heartbeat, he doesnât answer. âYou are my wife,â he says finally, voice softer than you expect. âWhat happens to you matters.â
âYouâll stay in your chambers today. Iâll make the arrangements.â
And before you can protest, he bends again, one arm hooking under your knees, the other around your back, lifting you as if you weigh nothing.
âJungkook-â
âSave your breath,â he says, eyes fixed forward. âYouâre not walking on it.â
The world tilts in a different way now, the solid heat of him under you, the steady rhythm of his steps carrying you through the garden paths. Court attendants bow as he passes, some openly staring, but he doesnât slow.
He carries you up the palace steps, down the corridors, and straight into your chambers-Â only setting you down on the bed once youâre surrounded by the familiar silk and shadow.
His hands linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he steps back. âRest.â
Then the mask is back, and heâs gone.
âââââââ
The physician leaves just before noon.
âItâs only a mild sprain,â heâd said, binding your ankle with clean linen and instructing you to stay off it for a day or two. âNothing serious, Your Highness. As long as you rest.â
Youâre propped against a fortress of pillows in your bed, silk sheets spilling over your legs, a cup of cooling tea at your side. The room is too still, too quiet. Youâve never been good at sitting still.
Your ladies-in-waiting keep offering to read to you or bring fresh flowers, but you send them away after the fourth polite interruption. Itâs not their fault you feel caged. The crown fits heavy enough without being confined to your chambers.
Youâre staring at the gilded canopy when thereâs a knock at the door.
âCome in,â you call.
Jungkook steps inside.
You blink. âI thought you had meetings all afternoon.â
âI do,â he says, but he doesnât leave. He crosses the room, the sound of his boots muffled against the carpet. âI wanted to see if you were following orders.â
âOrders?â you repeat, arching a brow. âI didnât realize marriage came with a chain of command.â
His gaze flicks to your bandaged ankle. âYouâre still in bed. Thatâs a start.â
You expect him to leave after that, but instead, he moves toward the table and pours you fresh tea, setting the cup within reach. You catch the faintest furrow between his brows, the one that appears when heâs thinking too much.
âYou didnât have to-â
âIt was closer to me than to you,â he cuts in.
âRight,â you murmur, hiding a small smile behind the rim of your cup.
He stands there a moment longer, as if debating something. âIf you need anything-â
âIâll send for a guard?â you finish for him, teasing.
His eyes narrow slightly, but thereâs no heat in it. âExactly.â
He turns to go, and something in you flares- curiosity, stubbornness, maybe both. âJungkook.â
He pauses at the door.
âYou caught me before I fell,â you say. âWhy?â
For a heartbeat, his eyes meet yours. âBecause youâre mine to protect.â
Then the door shuts behind him.
Youâre left staring at it, unsure whether his words were a claim, a duty⌠or something else entirely.
âââââââ
By morning, the dull ache in your ankle has faded to something tolerable. Not gone- but not enough to keep you trapped in bed.
You dress yourself in a pale blue day gown, something soft and unassuming, and braid your hair back in a way that says I am perfectly fine, thank you. Your ladies-in-waiting hover nervously as you make your way to the sitting room.
âYour Highness,â one begins gently, âperhaps you should-â
âIâve rested long enough,â you say, taking the first careful step toward the door. âThere are things I need to see to.â
They exchange looks but say nothing.
The moment you open the door, you nearly collide with him.
Jungkook stands there, dressed in deep charcoal, the morning light catching on the silver clasp at his cloak. His gaze drops immediately to your feet, to the subtle limp you try- and fail- to hide.
âWhere are you going?â His tone is calm, but thereâs a weight to it.
âFor a walk,â you say. âItâs a palace, not a prison.â
His jaw flexes. âNot without me.â
You fold your arms. âYouâre busy. I can manage.â
He steps past you into the room, closing the door behind him. âYou can barely walk without favoring that ankle.â
âI can walk,â you counter. âAnd I intend to.â
Something flickers in his eyes- not anger, not quite- before he exhales sharply. âThen Iâll escort you.â
Itâs not a request.
You consider arguing, but thereâs something in his stance, in the set of his shoulders, that tells you it will only waste time. So instead, you smile- sweet, false. âAs you wish, Your Highness.â
He offers his arm. You take it, because refusing would feel like losing, and you refuse to lose to him in anything.
The walk is slow, deliberate. The gardens are busy with attendants pruning roses and sweeping paths. You can feel the eyes on you- the court always watches. Jungkookâs hand stays steady under yours, guiding you away from uneven ground, adjusting his pace without comment when you falter.
Itâs infuriating how natural it feels.
When you reach the far end of the garden, you stop beside the fountain, pretending to admire the lilies floating on the surface.
âSee?â you say. âPerfectly capable.â
He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. âYouâre stubborn.â
âAnd youâre controlling,â you reply. âSomehow, we make it work.â
For a moment, it almost feels like truce.
Almost.
Then he says, âNext time, Iâll carry you from the start.â
And before you can respond, he turns and starts back toward the palace, leaving you to follow with the faintest, most infuriating smile tugging at your lips.
âââââââ
The royal conservatory smells faintly of jasmine and politics.
Todayâs luncheon is meant to honor a visiting trade delegation, but as always, itâs also a performance- a showcase of unity between the prince and his consort. You sit at Jungkookâs right, posture perfect, hands folded loosely in your lap.
The conversation drifts from tariffs to art to upcoming festivals. You answer politely when addressed, keeping your smile fixed in place.
Until Lord Jimin speaks.
Heâs old money, old power, and old enough to think his opinion is law. Leaning back in his chair with a practiced smile, he says, âItâs lovely to see you out and about again, Your Highness. Iâd heard youâd been⌠recovering from a fall? I suppose marble steps can be dangerous⌠for those unused to palace life.â
A polite ripple of laughter travels the table. The words are coated in courtesy, but the meaning is sharp- a reminder youâre an outsider, unaccustomed, and perhaps unfit.
You meet his gaze without flinching. âItâs true. I fell. Luckily, my husband was there to catch me.â
âYes,â Jimin says smoothly, âthough I imagine His Highness has far more pressing matters than tending to scraped ankles. Affairs of state require⌠sturdier footing.â
Itâs a dig. Gentle enough to pass as banter, but you hear the insinuation beneath it: fragile, ornamental, a burden.
Youâre ready to respond, but Jungkook speaks first.
âLord Jimin,â he says, voice even but edged with steel, âyou mistake grace for weakness.â The table quiets instantly. âThe Princess has already proven herself in council and in matters of policy. She is not a burden. She is my partner.â
Jimin blinks, caught off guard.
âAnd,â Jungkook continues, his gaze locking with the older lordâs, âif I ever hear you suggest otherwise again- even in jest- I will ensure you regret it.â
A ripple of stunned silence follows. Somewhere down the table, a glass is set down a little too quickly.
Jimin forces a smile. âOf course, Your Highness. I meant no offense.â
âThen perhaps,â Jungkook says, his tone softening but not losing its weight, âyou should choose your words more carefully.â
The conversation resumes, but the balance at the table has shifted.
You glance at Jungkook. His expression is unreadable, his focus already on the next course being served.
But under the table, you let your fingers brush his hand- not a thank-you, exactly, but an acknowledgment.
He doesnât pull away.
The luncheon ends in a blur of polite farewells and murmured congratulations. You donât remember half the names of the people you shook hands with- not because they werenât important, but because you could feel Jungkook beside you.
Not just beside you. With you.
Every time you replay his words- âShe is my partnerâ- your pulse stirs a little faster.
The doors close behind the last of the guests. Servants move to collect the empty glasses, but Jungkookâs voice stops them.
âLeave us.â
The room empties quickly. Youâre still standing by the long banquet table when he crosses to you, his steps unhurried, but his gaze locked on yours like heâs already made a decision.
âYou enjoyed that,â you murmur, chin lifting.
âWhat?â he says, stopping just close enough that you feel the warmth of him.
âDefending me.â You allow a slow smile. âMaking it clear Iâm yours.â
His hand is at your waist before you can react, pulling you flush against him. âYou are mine.â
The words arenât cold this time. Theyâre hot. Dangerous.
You open your mouth to retort, but his lips crash onto yours- not claiming like before, but taking, deep and insistent, like heâs been holding it back all afternoon. His tongue pushes past your lips, tasting you, coaxing a soft sound from the back of your throat.
Your fingers curl into his jacket, dragging him closer. The kiss breaks just long enough for him to murmur, voice rough, âTell me to stop.â
You donât.
He lifts you onto the table in one motion, your skirts spilling over polished wood. His mouth moves to your neck, your jaw, his teeth scraping lightly before his hands shove fabric higher and higher, until your thighs are bare.
âThis isnât about duty,â you breathe, half dazed.
He pushes you back so youâre lying on the table, bunching your dress up, and then he drops to his knees between your legs. Your breath catches. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you open.Â
âNo,â he agrees, his voice low, almost dangerous. âThis is about you.â
And then his mouth is on you- a slow, deliberate lick over your slit that makes you jolt.
He doesnât give you time to think before his mouth is on you- hot, wet, and devastatingly slow. His tongue slides from your entrance to your clit in one unhurried stroke, making you jolt.
His hands grip your thighs like steel, keeping you open while his tongue circles lazily, deliberately avoiding giving you enough pressure to push you over. He pulls back just enough to blow a warm breath over you, watching the way you shiver.
âAlready wet,â he murmurs, smirking before diving in again, licking you like heâs savoring every drop. He alternates between slow, languid strokes and fast, focused flicks over your clit until your hips are rocking into his face.
You try to pull him closer, but he shakes his head against you, forcing you to take his pace. âYouâll come when I say,â he growls, before sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard. The sound that tears from your throat is half-moan, half-curse.
He doesnât stop. His tongue fucks into you, wet and insistent, before returning to your clit. The obscene sounds of his mouth on you fill the room, mingling with your ragged breathing. Youâre panting now, thighs trembling against his grip, every muscle wound tight.
When your climax finally breaks, itâs sharp and shuddering, your back arching off the table. He holds you there, riding out every wave, his mouth never leaving you until you whimper from oversensitivity.
Only then does he rise, mouth slick, eyes dark. He leans over you, his cock already pressing against your thigh. âYou donât get to keep pretending after this,â you whisper, still catching your breath.
His hips still for a second, gaze locked on yours. Then he leans to your ear. âThen donât give me a reason to.â
He frees himself and pushes into you in one deep, steady thrust, the thick stretch forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. The aftershocks of your orgasm make every inch of him feel amplified, your walls fluttering around him as he bottoms out.
He doesnât give you time to settle- his hips draw back slow, almost teasing, before slamming forward again, the table groaning under the force. The rhythm he finds is hard and sure, each thrust hitting deep enough to make your breath hitch. His hands grip your hips, dragging you into every snap of his body, the sound of skin meeting skin sharp in the quiet room.
You cling to him, nails digging into the back of his jacket as he fucks you like heâs trying to brand himself into your muscles. The slick slide between you is filthy, your wetness coating him, making each thrust faster, harder.
When his mouth finds yours again, the kiss is desperate-Â teeth, tongue, shared breath- his pace never faltering. He swallows your moans, dragging them out until theyâre rough, uncontrolled sounds you swore you wouldnât make for him.
Your legs wrap tighter around his waist, angling him deeper, and he growls low in his chest, the sound vibrating against your mouth. His hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit and circling just hard enough to make your vision blur.
âCome for me,â he orders, voice ragged. You do- helplessly- your body clenching around him as the climax rips through you. He groans, hips driving deep one last time before he spills inside you, grinding through the aftershocks until youâre both shaking.
For a moment, the only sound is your mingled breathing.
When itâs over, he stays inside you just long enough to make you feel the weight of it- then pulls out, tucking himself back in with slow precision. He adjusts his jacket, then reaches down, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
âYou should eat dinner in your chambers tonight,â he says.
It sounds like an order. It feels like care.
âââââââ
Itâs only been a few days since the luncheon- and what happened after- but already, the edges between you and Jungkook are back to cutting.
The council chamber is thick with debate. A dispute over land rights has ministers talking over one another, and youâve had enough. You speak up, cutting through the noise with a solution thatâs both strategic and bold.
The room goes quiet. Even the scribe pauses his pen.
Jungkookâs expression doesnât change, but you catch the way his knuckles tap the table once- a subtle warning meant for you.
When the meeting adjourns, you rise with the others, smoothing your skirts. You expect him to walk beside you. Instead, he barely glances your way.
âYou enjoy taking command in front of my council,â he says as you step into the corridor. His tone is light enough that an outsider wouldnât catch the bite beneath it.
âThey were wasting time,â you reply evenly. âI offered a solution.â
âYou offered my solution,â he says, eyes forward. âBefore I could give it.â
âThatâs not my fault,â you counter, but heâs already striding ahead.
By the time you reach the great hall, heâs gone. No explanation. No dismissal. Just gone.
You wander the palace to cool your temper, your steps echoing in the quiet corridors. Youâve never cared much for the east wing- itâs quieter, more private- but today, you find yourself there.
A door at the end of the hall stands slightly ajar.
Jungkookâs office.
You hesitate, but curiosity wins.
Inside, the space is meticulously ordered- shelves lined with ledgers, a polished desk, the faint scent of ink and parchment in the air. You trail your fingers along the edge of the desk, noticing the papers stacked with military precision.
And then, near the bottom of one stack, you see it.
An envelope. Unsealed. Your name isnât on it and the handwriting is Jungkookâs.
The date at the top freezes your breath in your chest- the day after your wedding.
You shouldnât read it. You know that. But your fingers are already sliding the page free.
The first word you see is her.Â
Jisoo.
Your stomach twists.
You look toward the door- still closed- then back at the page, your pulse loud in your ears.
You sink into his chair, the letter trembling slightly in your hands.
Whateverâs written here, you already know itâs going to hurt.
âââââââ
My dearest Jisoo,
I should not be writing to you. Every reason I have been given tells me to let go- to accept the reality they have bound me to. But it is not reality I am living in. It is a sentence.
Yesterday, I stood at the altar with your sister. I said the vows. I placed the ring on her finger. I lifted her veil. And the entire time, all I could think was how wrong it was that it was her standing there, and not you.
You should have been my bride. You should have worn the crown beside me.
But politics is a crueler ruler than either of us. You know as well as I do that your father would never have allowed it- not with the trade agreement your marriage prospects could secure for your kingdom.
You were promised long before I had the right to ask.
Lord Dae-Hyunâs second son was a match your father could not afford to lose, and once your name was spoken, it could not be withdrawn. By the time I realized, you were already gone- sealed off by duty, unreachable by even my title.
They told me it was impossible. That I had to take the match offered. That she was the only way to solidify the alliance.
As though I should be grateful.
I am not.
Y/N is⌠restless. Too quick to speak, too unwilling to simply be still. She moves like sheâs waiting for a fight that no one has offered her, and perhaps that is the part I resent most- her constant need to be seen, to be heard. Even in these first hours as husband and wife, she seems determined to prove something, though I cannot imagine what it is, or to whom.
She will make noise, I am sure, and perhaps even cause enough distraction to make the ministers believe she is worth the trouble.
But she is not you.
She does not have your grace. Your steadiness. The way you can command a room without raising your voice.
When I look at her, I see only the shadow of what could have been. And it is unbearable to wake each day beside the wrong sister, knowing the one I wanted most is still within reach, yet impossibly far.
I do not expect you to answer this. Perhaps you will not even read it. But I needed you to know that, in every way that matters, I am still yours.
I will always be yours.
- Jungkook
âââââââ
You donât remember standing.
One moment, youâre staring at the ink-Â the words curling across the page like they were meant to strangle you- and the next, youâre shoving the letter back into the envelope with shaking hands.
Your legs move without thought, carrying you out of his office and through the palace corridors. You donât care if anyone sees you. You just need to be away from there. Away from him.
By the time you reach your chambers, your breath is uneven, your vision swimming. The ladies-in-waiting rush to greet you, offering tea, asking if youâd like to change before dinner.
âLeave,â you say, your voice tight.
They freeze. âYour Highness-â
âPlease,â you add, softer this time, but your voice cracks around the word. âI need to be alone.â
They bow and file out, glancing back as though worried to leave you like this. The door shuts.
The silence is crushing.
You press your back against it for a moment before sliding down to the floor. The sob breaks free before you can stop it-Â raw, shattering, the kind that leaves you gasping.
You push yourself up and stagger to the bed, sinking into the mattress as if the weight of the letter is still pressing down on you. The tears come harder now, unstoppable. You press your hands over your mouth to muffle the sounds, but it doesnât matter. Thereâs no one left to hear.
Every word replays in your mind- restless, wrong sister, always be yours. Each one cuts deeper, tearing through every fragile thread of dignity youâve tried to hold together since the wedding.
Hours pass. The light outside dims to gold, then gray, then nothing. You donât move. Dinner comes and goes. You donât send for food. You donât light the lamps. The only glow in the room is the faint spill of moonlight across the floor.
The knock at the door comes late. Before you can answer, it opens.
Jungkook steps inside, his expression unreadable in the dim light. âYou werenât at dinner.â
You donât reply.
His gaze shifts to your face- the flushed skin, the reddened eyes, the damp lashes. His body stills.
âWhat happened?â he asks, his voice quieter now.
You just stare at him, the letterâs words burning between you like a secret only you know.
You donât remember standing, but youâre on your feet when he steps closer.
âWhat happened?â he asks again.
Your fingers curl into fists at your sides. âIf my father let you marry her right now,â you say, your voice shaking, âwould I still be here?â
His brows draw together. âWhat are you talking about?â
âAnswer me!â Your voice rises, breaking against the walls. âWould I still be here, Jungkook?â
His eyes narrow. âYou went through my things.â
âYou wrote it!â you shout, the tears burning hot again. âYou wrote it the day after our wedding! You said you wished it was her. You said I was the wrong sister. You said youâd always be hers.â
His jaw tightens, but his voice stays level- too level. âAnd what if I did? It was the truth.â
Your breath catches.
âI married you for politics,â he says, each word deliberate, cold. âNot for love. And yes, everything in that letter is true.â
It feels like the floor drops out from under you.
You take a step back, but he follows, his voice sharper now. âYou think snooping through my office will make you more than what you are? It doesnât. You were a convenience, Y/N. Nothing more.â
The sob rips from your throat before you can stop it. âYouâre cruel.â
âAnd youâre naive,â he snaps. âIf you thought this marriage was anything else, thatâs on you.â
Itâs the final blow- not just the words, but the way he says them, like theyâre facts, not daggers.
Your vision blurs. You turn away before he can see the collapse happening inside you. âIâm going home.â
âYou canât just-â
But youâre already moving, shoving past him, through the door, and down the corridor.
Within the hour, youâre in the stables, your guards scrambling to follow orders they didnât expect. The palace fades behind you as the carriage rattles toward your fatherâs kingdom.
You donât look back.
If you did, you might see the shadow in the window- a figure watching you leave, unmoving until you vanish from sight.
âââââââ
jungkookâs pov:Â
The door slammed behind her hours ago. And yet, the echo of her voice still lingers.
Jungkook sits at his desk, the untouched glass of brandy in front of him reflecting the moonlight. Heâd been furious when she confronted him- furious sheâd been in his office, furious sheâd read the letter. But fury fades fast when itâs replaced by the memory of her face, wet with tears, breaking in front of him.
Six months.
Theyâve been married six months. Long enough for him to know the sound of her laughter when sheâs not guarding it, the precise way her brow furrows when sheâs deciding whether to speak her mind, the warmth in her voice when sheâs talking to anyone who isnât him.
And long enough for him to notice her- truly notice her. The way she moves, carries herself, commands attention without even trying. The way her beauty isnât something the court dresses gave her, but something she wears like armor.
Heâd told himself from the start that she was a political necessity, nothing more. The letter heâd written to Jisoo had been the truth back then or at least the truth heâd chosen to believe. But now?
Now he remembers the garden. How light sheâd felt in his arms when he carried her back to her chambers. How she hadnât flinched when Lord Jimin made his sly dig, but met it with a smile that made Jungkook want to break the manâs teeth.
The way her hand had brushed his under the table after he defended her. The faint smile she tried to hide.
And after everyone left , the way sheâd come apart under his hands. How the urgency between them had been more than anger, more than duty. The taste of her still lingers on his tongue, the sound of her voice when she moaned his name still carved into his memory. It hadnât been detached, like before- not when he was buried inside her, not when his mouth was on her, not when her nails clawed at his shoulders like she was trying to hold him there forever. Heâd been closer to her in that hour than in the entire six months of their marriage.
God, heâd said she was a convenience. Nothing more.
The lie tastes bitter.
He pushes back from the desk and stands abruptly, the chair scraping the floor. His coat is on in seconds, boots echoing against the stone floors as he makes for the stables.
It doesnât matter that itâs past midnight. It doesnât matter that the journey to her fatherâs kingdom will take hours.
He has to see her.
Not as a prince, not as a husband fulfilling some duty- but as a man who knows heâs made a mistake.
The groomsman barely has time to saddle his horse before Jungkook swings into the saddle. The cold night air bites at his skin, but itâs nothing compared to the emptiness in the palace without her.
He rides hard.
Heâs going to bring her home.
âââââââ
The warmth of your fatherâs manor is different from the one you left.
Here, the air doesnât feel like itâs pressing down on you. The corridors smell faintly of cedar and fresh bread instead of cold stone. You can breathe without worrying about whoâs watching.
For the first time in months, you let yourself sit without the weight of the crown. Wrapped in a thick blanket in your fatherâs private sitting room, you sip tea, listening to the muted hum of distant conversation.
Youâre not healed. You know that. But for now, youâre home.
The knock on the front doors comes just as you set your cup down. Footsteps cross the marble foyer, and then- a voice you never thought youâd hear here.
âIs she here?â
Your blood runs cold.
Jisooâs voice answers, careful but unmistakably surprised. âJungkook.â
You freeze, every muscle locking in place.
âI need to see her,â he says- no hesitation, no preamble.
Before you can even decide whether to stand or run, heâs inside. His eyes find you across the room in an instant. And then heâs moving- past Jisoo, past the threshold, crossing the space between you like nothing else exists. Heâs in front of you before you can even get to your feet.
Jungkook drops to his knees, the movement sharp and sudden, his hands coming up to cradle your face like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he doesnât hold on. His eyes search yours- not for anger, not for forgiveness, but for proof youâre real.
âY/N-â
You shove his hands away, the blanket slipping from your shoulders. âDonât.â
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. Then Jisoo, sensing the air between you, murmurs something to your father and slips from the room. The door shuts behind them, leaving only the two of you.
Your voice is low, but cutting. âYou donât get to come here, after what you said, and pretend it never happened.â
He doesnât argue. He just looks at you- truly looks- as though youâve hung the stars and heâs only just realizing it.
âIâm sorry,â he says quietly. âFor all of it. For the letter. For what I said after. For every time I made you feel unwanted.â
You fold your arms, holding your ground.
âI didnât know I was falling for you,â he continues, âuntil it was already happening.â
You scoff. âFalling for me?â
âThe winter gala,â he says, and you can hear the truth in his voice. âYou walked into that room and the whole court bent toward you, even when I was furious. The garden- when you fell, Iâve never been that afraid in my life. Your wit, the way you see through people at council. The luncheon- the way you touched my hand under the table like you knew exactly what it meant. And after⌠when we were together, it wasnât just anger or duty anymore. For the first time, I felt like I was with you, not just my wife.â
He swallows hard. âAnd the quieter things. Dinners where you laughed with the servants and made them forget you were royalty. The way you read late at night, biting your lip when you turn the page. The way you hum when you think no oneâs listening.â
Your breath catches, but you mask it with a shake of your head. âWords are easy, Jungkook. Youâve had six months to show me I matter and you didnât. Why should I believe you now?â
His jaw tightens. âBecause Iâm standing here, asking you to come home.â
You meet his gaze, steady and unflinching. âNo. Not until you prove it.â
The silence that follows is heavy, but you donât look away. For the first time since youâve known him, he nods- not in dismissal, but in acceptance.
âI will.â
âââââââ
jungkookâs pov:
The court is already buzzing when Jungkook walks into the great hall. Ministers in rich silks murmur over parchment, their jeweled rings catching the light. They fall silent when they see what heâs carrying.
An envelope. Old. Unsealed.
He walks to the center of the room, past the council table, past the throne. The letter-the one he wrote to Jisoo six months ago-Â feels like it weighs more than steel in his hand.
Without preamble, he sets it atop the silver brazier meant for burning old decrees.
âThis letter,â he says, his voice carrying easily in the vaulted hall, âis a lie I let live too long.â
The ministers glance at one another.
He strikes a match and drops it onto the parchment. Flame curls the edges, swallowing the words, until nothing remains but black ash.
âI have one queen,â he continues. âNot simply a wife to fulfill politics, not a placeholder for another. Y/N is my queen- in title, in duty, and in my heart.â
Murmurs ripple through the chamber.
âShe is the woman who has stood beside me when I gave her no reason to. Who has shown strength where others expected silence. Who has matched me in wit, in will, and in fire.â
He doesnât hesitate. âAnd I love her.â
The last of the letter collapses into ash.
He turns to the royal scribe. âSend word to her fatherâs court. Let it be known across both kingdoms.â
âââââââ
The day is uneventful until the envoy arrives.
The royal messenger steps into your fatherâs receiving room, his cloak still dusted with travel, the sealed scroll in his hand gleaming with Jungkookâs crest.
âFor Her Highness, the Princess Consort,â he says, bowing as he offers it.
Your father watches you break the seal.
The parchment is brief but formal- the kind of statement meant to be read in public squares and whispered over in taverns:
A letter burned. Your name spoken in the great hall. You, named not only wife, but queen. And the final line, in Jungkookâs unmistakable hand: I love you.
Your fingers tighten on the parchment. You can hear the pounding of your own heart.
âSeems heâs made his choice,â your father says quietly.
You donât answer. You canât. Not yet.
Youâre still staring at the proclamation when Jisoo slips into your room.
âSo⌠he burned it?â she says, perching lightly on the edge of your bed.
You nod, the parchment still in your lap. âIn front of everyone. Declared me his queen. Said he loves me.â
Jisoo studies your face. âAnd you donât believe him?â
âI want to,â you admit, your voice low. âBut wanting to and trusting are two different things.â
Jisooâs expression softens. âYouâve always been braver than you think, Y/N. Go see him. Make him prove it in person.â
The next day, you do.
The journey back to his kingdom feels shorter this time, though your heart is heavier with each mile.
When the carriage pulls into the palace courtyard, you expect the usual line of attendants and guards. You donât expect him- standing at the base of the steps, dressed simply, holding a bouquet of deep red roses.
The door opens, and the early Spring air rushes in.
He looks up at you, something unguarded in his eyes. âWelcome home, Y/N.â
You step down from the carriage, the scent of the roses reaching you before his hands do.
For a moment, neither of you moves. Then he offers them to you. You take the roses, the petals velvety against your fingers.
âTheyâre beautiful,â you say, your voice careful.
âTheyâre not enough,â Jungkook replies.
You blink up at him. âThen why give them to me?â
âBecause I needed something in my hands when I saw you,â he admits. âOtherwise I might not have been able to keep from-â He stops himself, his jaw flexing. â-from saying too much, too soon.â
The words catch you off guard.
An attendant moves to take your luggage, but Jungkook waves them off. âIâll walk her.â
You glance at him, then at the long climb up the palace steps. âYou donât usually play porter.â
âI donât usually try to win back my wife,â he says, matter-of-fact.
Inside, the corridors are quieter than usual. He walks beside you, matching your pace, and doesnât speak again until you reach your chambers.
âI know words wonât be enough,â he says, stopping at the threshold. âSo Iâll show you.â
âHow?â you ask, wary but curious.
âBy being the man you deserve,â he answers without hesitation. âBy giving you reason to believe me every day, not just when itâs convenient for me. By making sure you never have to doubt you are my queen- in every way that matters.â
You search his face, looking for cracks in the resolve. But his gaze holds steady.
âThen start proving it,â you say finally, stepping into the room.
Before the door closes, you hear him say softly, âI already am.â
âââââââ
The council chamber feels different this morning.
The air isnât thick with the weight of being tolerated- it hums with the quiet acknowledgment of your place at the table. The ministers rise when you enter, bowing not out of obligation, but something closer to respect.
Jungkook takes his seat at the head of the table. You take yours at his right but for the first time, you donât feel like youâre in his shadow.
A dispute over the naval fleetâs funding takes center stage. Two ministers argue over whether to cut costs or invest in new shipbuilding.
You listen. And when their voices climb over each other, you speak.
âCutting costs now will cost us more later,â you say, your tone firm but measured. âIf we invest in the fleet, we secure our trade routes. Thatâs more revenue in the long term- and more security for our allies.â
All eyes shift to you.
One minister hesitates. âBut, Your Highness-â
âSheâs right,â Jungkook cuts in smoothly, his gaze steady on you. âThe Princessâs proposal is sound. It will be implemented.â
You allow yourself a small smile, meeting his eyes.
The discussion moves on, but the shift lingers- ministers asking for your opinion, valuing it, weighing it as they would his. And each time you speak, Jungkook listens. Not with the detached patience of before, but with intent, his attention fixed on you as though no other voice in the room matters.
By the end of the session, the room feels different again. Not because youâve changed, but because theyâve started to see you as youâve always been.
A queen in the room.
âââââââ
The council chamber has long since emptied, but the weight of the day lingers in your shoulders.
You find him in his office, the golden light of late afternoon spilling over the maps and scrolls spread across his desk. He looks up when you enter, his expression softening almost imperceptibly.
âYou were remarkable today,â Jungkook says, leaning back in his chair. âThe fleetâs commanders will be sending you wine for that decision.â
You smile faintly but donât sit. Instead, you step closer, your skirts whispering over the polished floor. âI need to ask you something.â
His gaze sharpens. âAnything.â
You stop a few feet from him, folding your hands in front of you. âWhat do you see in me,â you ask slowly, âthat you never saw in Jisoo?â
The room stills.
He blinks once, as if heâs not sure he heard you right. âWhy are you asking me that now?â
âBecause,â you say, keeping your voice even, âyouâve told me you love me. Youâve burned your letter. Youâve defended me in court. But thereâs still a part of me that wonders if you love me for me, or because I became what you needed.â
He rises from the chair, closing the distance until heâs standing right in front of you. âYou think Iâd confuse the two?â
âI think,â you answer, meeting his eyes, âthat I deserve to know the difference.â
For a moment, neither of you speak. The only sound is the quiet ticking of the clock on the mantle, marking each second between you.
And then he nods once- slow, deliberate. âAlright. Iâll tell you.â
He doesnât look away when he speaks.
âWhen I thought of Jisoo,â Jungkook begins, âI saw⌠calm. The kind of quiet the court praises. She was gentle, and she fit the image of a queen in everyoneâs mind, including mine. But it was a dream I built out of fragments. I didnât know her. I had a single conversation with her.â
He takes another step closer. âAnd when I married you⌠I told myself it was only politics. But then the reality of you started undoing me.â
Your breath catches, but you donât interrupt.
âThe winter gala,â he says softly. âYou walked in wearing that wine-red gown, and the entire court turned toward you- not because of your title, but because you owned the room. And I hated how much I noticed. The garden, when you fell-Â Iâve been in battles where men were dying around me, and I wasnât as scared as I was in that moment.â
His voice lowers. âYour wit in council. The way you donât back down, even when Iâve given you every reason to. That day you outmaneuvered Lord Jimin with a single look and a sharper tongue- I wanted to kiss you in front of everyone.â
You swallow hard, your heart pounding.
âAnd the luncheon,â he continues. âWhen you touched my hand under the table, I thought it was nothing. But afterwards⌠when I had you in my arms, when you let me in completely- it wasnât anger, or duty, or proving a point. It was you. Just you. And I realized Iâd never had that with anyone before.â
He exhales slowly. âYou donât just fit the image of a queen. You are one. And I see you, Y/N- not the crown, not the alliance, not my title beside yours. Just you. And I love what I see.â
He runs a hand through his hair, almost like heâs searching for the right words. âI think I was in love with you before I even understood it. Before I let myself admit it. Every time you challenged me, every time you made me see the world differently, it was another thread pulling me toward you. And now⌠now I canât imagine a world where youâre not mine.â
The silence between you is different now- not the sharp-edged kind thatâs filled your marriage, but something warmer. Something that pulls you toward him instead of pushing you away.
When he reaches for you, itâs not rushed. His hands frame your face gently, like heâs memorizing the shape of you. His kiss is unhurried, deep, and you taste the truth of everything heâs just said in the way his mouth moves against yours.
You let him guide you back toward the bed, but this time thereâs no battle for control- only the steady pull of his hands and the unspoken promise in his touch. Every glance, every brush of his fingers is a question, and you answer without hesitation, giving him all of you.
When his lips trail down your throat, you feel the weight of his love in the way he lingers, his mouth pressing gentle kisses, his nose brushing your skin like heâs breathing you in.
Clothing falls away slowly- not torn, but removed like itâs precious. He studies every inch of revealed skin with eyes that are soft and heavy with want, his hands tracing you as though heâs committing each curve to memory.
He eases you back onto the bed, kneeling between your thighs, and lowers himself until his breath ghosts over your core. The first kiss he presses there is slow, deliberate, making you gasp. âYouâre so beautiful here,â he murmurs, before his tongue drags through your folds.
The first wave comes quickly- his mouth seals over your clit, tongue flicking just right while two fingers slide inside you, curling until youâre gasping his name. He hums, the sound sending shivers through you as you clench around him, hips rocking helplessly.
He doesnât let you come down. His mouth never leaves you, his fingers easing out only to be replaced by the wet slide of his tongue dipping inside you, tasting everything you give him. You whimper, overstimulated already, but his hands pin your hips to the mattress, holding you there until the second orgasm crashes over you- sharper this time, your thighs trembling around his head.
When you sag against the bed, panting, he kisses your inner thigh, his voice low and reverent. âOne more for me, love.â
You can barely shake your head before his mouth is back on your clit, slower this time, coaxing instead of demanding. His fingers return, pumping deep and steady while his tongue traces lazy circles. The build is excruciatingly tender, your body tightening until you spill over again, crying out and clinging to him like you might drown without him.
Only then does he finally come up to you, his mouth finding yours, letting you taste yourself on his lips. âPerfect,â he whispers, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. âYouâre perfect.â
He lines himself up and pushes into you with a long, steady thrust, the head of his cock stretching you inch by inch until heâs buried fully inside. Your lips part in a shuddering gasp, your body still fluttering from the last climax, the aftershocks wrapping around him and drawing a deep groan from his chest.
He stills there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard like heâs savoring every second of being inside you. âGod, you feel incredible,â he murmurs, his voice breaking. âI love you so much.â
His hips begin to move- slow at first, dragging all the way out before pressing back into the hilt, making you feel every inch. Each thrust is deep and deliberate, his hand finding yours between your bodies and lacing your fingers together like heâs anchoring himself.
He kisses you through it, the kind of kisses that steal your breath- soft one moment, hungry the next. His free hand strokes your cheek, tucks your hair back, touches you like youâre fragile and the most precious thing heâs ever held.
âYou take me so well,â he breathes against your lips. âEvery time⌠every time you feel like home.â
The words make your chest ache in the best way, your hips rising to meet his as the rhythm builds. He shifts slightly, angling his thrusts until the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. His thumb finds your clit again, stroking in slow, perfect circles that have you gasping into his mouth.
âCome with me,â he whispers, his voice almost desperate. âPlease⌠I need to feel you.â
It hits you fast, your body clenching hard around him as your climax rips through you. He follows instantly, his hips stuttering as he spills deep inside, groaning your name into the crook of your neck. He keeps moving, slow and gentle now, riding out every aftershock until youâre both trembling and breathless.
When itâs over, he stays inside you, his chest pressed to yours, his hand still laced with yours. Finally, he eases out, tucks himself back in, and gathers you against him. His lips brush your temple in a soft, lingering kiss.
âI love you,â he murmurs again, quieter now, like the words are meant just for you.
You close your eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart under your ear, and for the first time since you married him, you let yourself believe it.
âââââââ
Four months pass, and the court is no longer divided over you.
Youâve stood in the council chamber beside Jungkook, your voice carrying as much weight as his. Youâve walked the gardens with visiting dignitaries, negotiated trade proposals, and heard the peopleâs petitions in the great hall. Every step, every decision, every glance exchanged with him has been watched- and now, no one doubts.
Today is the day it becomes official.
The great hall is a sea of color, banners of both your kingdoms and his draped from the vaulted ceiling. Sunlight pours through stained glass, scattering jewels of light across the marble floor. Nobles, ministers, and foreign rulers fill the room, their eyes on the dais where two thrones sit side by side.
Jungkook is already there, dressed in ceremonial black and gold, a crown resting lightly on his head. He turns when you enter, and the faint smile that touches his lips is for you alone.
The High Chancellorâs voice rings out, carrying over the hush. âBy the will of the Crown and the grace of Almighty God, let it be known throughout this realm and beyond its borders: Princess consort Y/N, beloved daughter of the realm and consort to His Majesty the King, having been found worthy in faith, in honor, and in steadfast devotion, is this day anointed and crowned.
From henceforth she shall be known as Her Most Gracious Majesty, Y/N, Queen Consort of this Kingdom, Guardian of the Crownâs dignity, and sworn companion to the Sovereign.
May her counsel be wise, her heart steadfast, and her reign beside His Majesty bring peace, prosperity, and glory to the realm.
Long live the Queen!â
You step forward, and the crown- lighter than you imagined, yet impossibly heavy with meaning- is placed upon your head.
When you rise, Jungkook takes your hand in front of the entire court, his grip warm and steady. The cheers that follow echo through the hall, the sound of a kingdom bearing witness.
You glance at him, your heart steady and certain.
Once, his heart was elsewhere. Now, it beats for me alone.
âââââââ
LINK TO REQUEST ⥠MASTERLIST ⥠a03
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These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.
Synopsis: After decorating the living room with Holiday spirit, Jin turns his camera on - he wants to make a movie
Warning: mdni 18+, praise, dirty talk, bf!seokjin, recorded smut, on the floor, in front of a fireplace, unprotected oop, smile for the camera
The soft glow of the colorful lights reflects beautiful shadows against your skin. An array of blues, reds, and greens, all captured on camera as Jin angles the lens down at you.
Your mouth parts, a gasp slipping past your lips as Jin coos, âsmile for the camera, Pretty.â And then heâs bottoming out. His cock splits you in half, his plump tip smooching your cervix with a filthy kiss. His precum spills a few wads onto your spongey walls, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. âThere we go, so pretty - hah - so wet gushing on my cock.â
Jinâs got you sprawled out in front of the fireplace, your legs spread wide to get the perfect view of your pussy slurping his cock deeper with each stroke Seokjin gives. Heâs got the phone recording each lewd squelch your pretty cunt makes each time he fills you balls deep, and your eyes roll, catching the lights you strung up with Jin only hours ago in the living room. A tree sits in the far corner, a couple of presents underneath it already, and he groans as your cunt squeezes him tighter.
âFeels so good, Jin! Oh fuck, right there, r-right there!â You whimper, and your hand presses into his lower stomach, feeling the way his muscles flex with each roll of his hips. Your mouth waters, drool forming at the edge of your lips as your orgasm draws near. Your tongue felt heavy, your mind melting as he abused the sweet spot inside you with every heavy smack of his cock sliding deep inside you.
And through it all, even with a shaky hand, Jin captured every whine, moan, and filthy squeeze of your pussy with his camera. The lens caught the light sheen of your sweet slick coating every inch of his cock as he dragged his length almost completely out before bullying back inside your gummy walls. It caught the way your eyelashes flutter, feeling every ridge and curve of his cock drag along your sweet spots, filling you to your limit and making your lungs shake for air.
âRight there? It feels good right there, Baby?â Jinâs jaw clenches, his teeth gritting as he drags you to meet each one of his nasty thrusts. You feel so good around him, so warm, so wet, sucking him in deeper. âYou gonna cum for me? Show me exactly how good you feel.â
Heâs fucked every little thought from your pretty little head. You nod, dumbly, the muscles in your thighs quivering as the heat in your stomach warms. Your head shakes, the pleasure becoming too much to handle, and when Jin moves his large hand from pressing your thigh up to your chest to then rub your puffy clit to his thrusts? You cry out his name, sobbing as youâre pulled over the edge.
Your cunt slurps messily around his thick girth, slobbering your juices down his cock in waves. Your eyes roll, mouth dropping as he keeps fucking you, fucking you through your orgasm as he coos in your ear. âGood girl - make a mess, let me see that face you make as you try and milk my cock, wanna get it all on camera, make it a Christmas movie all for me."
A/N: As always, comments, kudos, and interactions with me are greatly appreciated!
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a look into how you stupidly got involved with jeon jungkook - your new step brother - after attempting to convince him that you werenât boring.
word count: 8.694
warning: the ppl keep requesting more step-bro jk, masturbation (m), voyeurism, alcohol intake, hookup with mingyu, smut, dubcon moments/elements, dry humping, unprotected sex,
You recall the first time youâve met your step-brothers.
Your mother, a woman whoâs been single longer than youâve lived, has found herself a husband. By the start of your junior year, she was in a relationship. You didnât meet him until close to the end of said year when she had shown you the diamond ring right on her finger. She stated that if it wasnât serious, she wouldnât bother introducing you to him.
Introducing you to your new step-father that summer meant also introducing you to his children. Biologically, he had two - Kim Taehyung and Kim Ari. At that time, Ari was already in college in Europe, studying fashion, a subject you never knew existed. Taehyung had graduated High school the year prior.Â
The kicker was that of a certain boy by the name of Jeon Jungkook, an adopted son from a previous marriage.
âThough my wife and I didnât work out, I adopted Jungkook when he was around 8.â your step-father stated at dinner.
You pondered just how that worked - Jungkook living with his adopted father instead of his mother. Where was his own biological father that heâd rather steer clear from both parents and remain with someone else entirely?
You never questioned either of them aloud, however.
Jungkook and you were the same age, though attending different schools. You were shocked to find out how wealthy this man was. He could afford private school tuition and even offered to send you to the same one Jungkook attended - you declined the offer. It took a month into your senior year for your mother to remove you from your well-liked public school, and put you right into private school alongside Jungkook.
Youâve tried your best to like it. However, the uniform skirt pissed you off. The lack of friends you had irritated you to no end that you were forced to sit with Jungkook and his friends.Â
Literally.Â
The boy would wait after your classes and force you to sit with a group of his friends you couldnât care less about. Youâre positive it was because his father had threatened to take away the brand new Porsche he got for him if he ignored you. Yet, day after day Jungkook would drag you to a table full of boys all his age where the two of you would eat. You were glad to not be a part of any of their conversations as they truly didnât interest you.Â
At first glance, Jungkook looks like the typical senior boy. Handsome face, nice smile and even nicer body as he was athletic. His appearance could be misconstrued as a toal fuck boy or a nice guy - and you learned that it all depended on what he felt like that day. At this moment, he was a nice guy. A few days prior, the fuck boy in him had him completely ignoring Laura; the girl he snuck into the home while your mother and his father were out on a date.Â
Jungkook was also the person whoâd take you to and from school. You learned at this private academy, there were no school buses - only chauffeurs and privileged students driving their own expensive cars. Jungkook being one of them.
Jungkook enjoyed feeling the wind in his hair as he drove, music blasting through the speakers. He drove as if the streets were his, dashing between cars and going from one lane to another.
âCan you slow down?â you asked him one day - months of dealing with your heart racing outside your chest.
âTell me,â Jungkook turned down the music but didnât turn to you. âwhy are you so incredibly boring?â
Your eyes widened at his words.
âYou donât do anything. You donât even try to make friends-â
âI have friends!â you hissed back. âI just donât care for the pretentious-â
âAnd Iâm bored.â Jungkook interrupted, turning the music back up to further mess with you. For a moment, youâre silent, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was probably the most youâve spoken to him, and even now you and him werenât on good terms.
âHow about you prove you arenât boring then, sis?â Jungkook hollered over his music. The word âsisâ comes out teasingly that it caused your nose to scrunch up. âWeâre having a study session tonight. Come with me.â
You cross your arms. âHow is studying not boring?â
Jungkook glances your way just as he switches lanes. His dark eyes are enough to tell you that you werenât understanding anything.Â
âOhâŚâ you trailed off, arms falling to your sides. There wasnât going to be any studying. You suppose it was just a front to not get caught doing anything else. âI donât-â
âBo-â Jungkook began. âring . Stay home alone on a Friday night for all I care. Mingyu was expecting to see you, though.â
Your brows knit together and Jungkook notices that now he has your attention. Mingyu was one of Jungkookâs friends who you were unfortunate to surround yourself with at lunch. You spoke little, only âhiâsâ and âbyeâsâ.Â
âHe thinks youâre cute. Heâs never going to shoot his shot first. Youâre supposed to be off limits.âÂ
Jungkook turned down the long familiar private road to where the estate was.Â
âOff limits for what?â you scoffed. Your mind immediately wandered negatively. Off limits because you werenât like them. You werenât born into money like they were, and even now that your mom has married into it, you were still a fish out of water.
âAs friends, weâre not supposed to get involved with siblings. Itâs messy.â Jungkook shakes his head matter-of-factly. âYouâre a different case, however. You arenât technically my sibling. We just met.â
Jungkook turned his eyes towards you once more, this time his stare lingering. âSo youâre technically not off limits to anyone.â
The study session consisted of familiar faces. The majority of them were Jungkookâs friends youâve sat with at lunch, while others were friends of friends, all lingering around each other in the large estate - all the while you kept to yourself mostly.
Jungkook was just as surprised as you were when you met him just when he was about to leave. He noticed the nervous look on your face when you asked him if you were dressed correct for the occasion. It caused him to snicker before motioning to his own casual wear. The untrained eye wouldnât notice the nearly $600 pair of shoes he wore and designer clothing brand thatâs considered âquiet luxuryâ.
âYouâre all alone here.â
You recognize the voice that stands besides you. Itâs Mingyu whoâs holding out a red cup to you, one in his other hand that he sips on. You glance down at the cup and then back up at the dark haired boy.
âItâs nothing strong.â Mingyu offers a smile. âBut if youâd like, I can get you something else. We have juice-â
âItâs fine.â you interrupt, your body warming up as you take the cup. You glance behind Mingyu to find Jungkook amongst the gathering of people. Heâs drinking from his own red cup, his eyes watching the two of you.
The last thing you needed was for Jungkook to call you boring again.
âYou donât talk much.â Mingyu notes. âI suppose it doesnât help that Kook left you, huh?â
You place the brim of the cup to your lips. âY-yeah.â you murmur. You can smell the alcohol mixed with whatever juice he mixed with it. âIâm the odd one out.â
You take a sip and surprisingly, it doesnât taste bad. Youâre glad that Mingyu hadnât lied about the taste.Â
The next few hours are a blur as you and Mingyu talked and continued to drink. The room grew hotter. You became more relaxed, laughing heartily. You arenât even sure when you and Mingyu ended elsewhere until your mind suddenly snapped back into reality of your naked body against his own.
âYouâre very pretty, Y/N.â you hear him say, wet mouth against the nape of your neck. âI always thought soâŚâ
Just as you and Mingyu had drank until your minds were spinning, so had everyone else. As the get together dragged on, people had dispersed. Those who stayed were already dozing off on different parts of the home - Jungkook recalls the time he got so wasted that he slept in the lawn because the house was far too humid to be comfortable.
Jungkook isnât sure why he decides to follow you and Mingyu. Itâs obvious what is bound to happen. For hours, you occupied yourself with his friend that he understood Mingyuâs feelings towards you were mutual.
Jungkook understands that itâs wrong and a complete invasion of privacy. His friend is so intoxicated that he doesnât realize that the door is open a crack; just enough for Jungkook to look inside. He watches it all - the way Mingyu and you make out until clothing is scattered. He watches the way his friendâs hand touches your bare skin, his lips kissing upon it.
Jungkook is fully aware that this is wrong, but he cannot help but watch. He blames you, he thinks, because just as he was about to turn away and never bring this up to anyone, you get on top of Mingyu. Your back is facing him, smooth and arched. Heâs unsure why it captivates him the way it does.Â
Jungkook is frozen watching you, his own step-sister. The same girl heâs called boring just to tease you. The girl who doesnât bother to make friends or do anything until now. Your hips rise and fall as Mingyuâs hands settle onto your waist, gripping tightly. Moans surround the room, yours a bit higher than his. Heâs never thought about your sexlife until now and if he had, heâd assumed you were the type to wait.Â
Jungkook knows this is wrong, but he cannot help the way his cock feels as he watches you right now. Itâs hard in his pants, twitching each time you grind your hips against Mingyu, his friend hasnât stopped moaning since you mounded him.Â
âYou feel so good~â you gasp. Itâs as if Jungkookâs view of you has lifted, his eyes unblinking as he watches you. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart racing in his chest. He blames his own intoxication when his hands slide into his pants and grips his cock. Heâs fully aware that this is wrong - and pathetic. But the way your ass looks from here is what continues to drive him crazy.
When Jungkook cums right in his pants is when his mind snaps back to reality. He finds the nearest bathroom and vomits everything into the toilet, managing to avoid stepping over a few drunken acquaintances.
What Jungkook proceeds to do next could be deemed as selfish, but what does being a selfless person get you in life? He learned from his (adoptive) father that if you wanted something in life, you had to take it - no matter the costs or the length in time.
Mingyu is his friend - one of Jungkookâs closest friends. He wants all of his friends to have what's best for them. At first, he thought he wouldnât care about his friends dating you. There wasnât a reason to be.
Now, though, Jungkook fears that he cannot get you out of his mind. His mind often rings with your sweet moans and sudden gasps. The way your hips grinds with such pleasurable need that has his mouth salivating whenever the picture pops into his mind. Not only was it pathetic to be hung on a single person, but utterly prohibited.
But why, Jungkook thinks, would it be prohibited? Sure, your mother was married to his father. But, not his biological father. Even so, you and he had just met nearly a year ago. You and he were soon to be out into the real world, going to universities like Taehyung and Ari were. It would be weird if his attraction towards you were aimed at Ari, someone he considered to be his true sister. But for youâŚ.
Of course, Jungkook understands that ruining what you and Mingyu were becoming was selfish. However, if he didnât get it out of his system, it would continue to boil inside him until he could no longer contain himself. He was tired of watching you walk around the home like nothing had happened between you and his friend. Hell, even when he asked Mingyu himself, he had lied to his face. âWe just talked and made out a little,â he recalls.
That meant that what Mingyu felt was genuine. He didnât see you as a random hookup that he spoke about freely and that alone was dangerous. It meant that Jungkook couldnât have you.
âBefore it gets too serious,â Jungkook told his friend one night. âyou should stop pursuing Y/N. SheâsâŚâ
Jungkook doesnât say anything further for a moment. He can feel Mingyuâs eyes staring right into him, his mouth agape ready to argue. They had this conversation months ago and Jungkook had stated that it was fine. It wasnât fine anymore, he thinks. He cannot continue to watch the way you smile at his friend, a flirty look in your eyes. At home, he could hear you talking to him over the phone and even when he was out with his friends, you were always in Mingyuâs phone, which left his friend distracted.
No, Jungkook couldnât allow this to continue. Maybe after he had a taste of you, he pondered, then maybe.
âSheâs like a sister to me.â Jungkook continued. âBesides, you already said you were going out of the country to study.â
Mingyu blinked. âYeah butâŚshe could come with me?â he knitted his brows. âOr I can stay-â
âWhy would you put your life on hold for someone you just met, gyu?â Jungkook scoffed. âIâm telling you this as your friend. Let it goâŚif later on down the line you two rekindle then itâs meant to be, right?â
You never thought youâd be in this position. Youâve become one of the girls you once took pity on. You were now the girl that had hooked up with someone and was let down. Mingyu had let you down as easily as he could but it still didnât stop your feelings from being hurt.
You didnât give Mingyu the satisfaction of ghosting you. You avoided him at all costs. You no longer sat with Jungkook or his friends and instead decided that eating alone with your airpods was just fine until Jungkook made his appearance beside you. At first, he was silent, never speaking about the obvious elephant in the room.
Then-
âPeer pressure?â Jungkook questions you one night. He lifts the alcohol bottle for you to view. âIâm sick of you sulking.â
âIâm not sulking.â you scoff, turning your attention back to your laptop. âIâm doing homework.â
Jungkook rolls his eyes. âBo-â he begins and you automatically sigh. âring. What did I say about you being cooped up on a Friday night?â
You snicker. âThe last time I went out with you on a Friday night I got my time wasted.âÂ
Jungkook leans against the wall. âIâm sorry about that.âÂ
Your eyes snap back to Jungkook. Youâve never heard him apologize to you before. You gently close your laptop, your body warming. âForâŚwhat?â you murmur.
For ruining your bubbling relationship, but Jungkook couldnât admit to that.Â
âFor Mingyu.â Jungkook nods. âHeâs my friend, after all, and I was the one to encourage him to go after you. If I wouldâve known he was going to have cold feetâŚâ he trails off.
You shrug one shoulder, leaning back against the couch. âItâs not your fault.â you say. âWhere are you going?â
âKickback. Weâre only a few weeks away before we're done with this shit, arenât we?â Jungkook chuckles. âThen, the summer is ours.â
âBefore we end up right back for college?â you snicker, a small grin on your lips.
âY/N,â Jungkook bounces away from the wall to make his way closer to you. âcollege parties are way better. Besides, no curfews,â Jungkook seats himself on the arm of the couch. He has no discard for possibly damaging it. âno stealing liquor from the cellar.â he says, jiggling the bottle in his hand. âItâs perfect. Now get up. Wear something hot to show Mingyu that you arenât bothered by him.â
Jungkook offers a smile - wear something hot for him and him alone, he thinks.
âIf you feel tired, just go upstairs to my room.â you tell Ana - more like yell - over the loud music thatâs booming throughout the estate.Â
Ana, of course, isnât listening fully. Sheâs already 5 shots in and sheâs feeling the party entirely. You allow her to drag you towards the kitchen where thereâs already a row of shots displayed.Â
By the time you got out of the shower, Jungkook had told you that there was a change in plans. Youâre positive it had something to do with the text youâve received from your mother that told you she and your step-father wouldnât be returning until Sunday.
Obviously, to Jungkook, that meant whatever kickback - you now know that is just a codename for a party - he was attending could now happen in the comfort of his own home.Â
You peer down at the row of shots - Mystery shots is what Taehyung calls it.Â
Taehyung was someone you were not expecting to see so soon. He rarely visits home and when he does, itâs usually only for dinners. Now, however, you see just how vibrant he is. Maybe this is what college was about, you think.
Itâs a game to Taehyung to see who could guess what shot theyâre taking. He throws money at whoever could guess it, the majority of them far too tipsy to even conjure up the correct words.
Ana grabs one light and dark liquid and shoves one your way. âYouâre not drunk enough for me.â she says with a laugh. She begins to dance, twirling and spinning along with the music that you couldn't help but find her carefree attitude funny.
Ana and you had been friends since your freshman year of high school when she sat besides you in class. She was talkative, telling you every and anything - by the end of the day, you knew that her parents were getting a divorce because her father had cheated and gotten his mistress pregnant.
Needless to say, it was the start of a friendship. One that you told her that could lead up to your college years. Though you hoped you and she could attend the same, now that you no longer depended on financial aid to get you by, youâre sure that wasnât going to be the case.Â
It was Jungkook who persuaded you to invite Ana. Not because you didnât want her there, but because he knew that if you were going to let loose tonight, your carefree friend had to be there. Heâs positive that youâve learned your lesson from the last time - a lesson he needed you to unlearn if he wanted to be in Mingyuâs position. So if a costly uber ride is what he had to pay for to get your friend who lived an hour away to come, then so be it.
With Ana coming only meant that she brought her wardrobe, insisting that you needed to look as hot as she knew you could.Â
âWhat are you doing?â Taehyung asks Jungkook. He notices his brotherâs eyes lingering for far too long in a certain direction. A direction he doesnât have to follow.
The night drags on. You and Ana are both more than tipsy along with the majority of everyone here. Taehyung had given out enough cash to pay Anaâs mothers rent for the next 4 months - pocket change is what he calls it - due to the drinking game.Â
âI know that look in your eye.â Taehyung continues. Heâs holding a water bottle in his hand and he takes a sip, something he hasnât seen anyone do here yet. He tells himself that in due time, theyâll learn to chase their liquor with water and not be drunken fools. âHowever, I do not know who that look is for.â
Jungkook turns his eyes away from you - and Ana - to look at Taehyung. The older man furrows a single brow. He knows the younger boy enough that sometimes, words don't need to be spoken.
âI see.â Taehyung hums. âWho wants to play hide and seek?â
âWhat?â someone calls out drunkenly.Â
âI do!â Ana says, raising her hand. Sheâs no longer distracted by the intense game of beer pong. âItâll be fun.â
âAre we not too old?â you ask her, voice slurred.Â
âNo!â she squeals.
There were only a few players. Taehyung set the rules - hide, and if he finds you thatâs another 3 shots. You arenât sure you could handle one shot, let alone three.
You lose Ana quickly as she decides to take this game seriously. You ditched your heels long ago, your feet dragging along the cool floors. Upstairs is off limits to guests and seeing as you werenât one, your drunken mind tells you that itâs the perfect place to hide.
And maybe stay for the remainder of the night if slumber overtook you. The thought of sleeping now was more than appetizing.
âAre you cheating?â
You yelp as you turn the corner at the top of the steps. Jungkook is in front of you. You notice heâs lazily holding a water bottle in his right hand.
âWhat?â you shake your head. âNo, Iâm-â you swallow. âIf I'm cheating then so are you!â
Jungkook snickers. âI am.â he says, nonchalant. âTae knows all my hiding spots by now. Heâll force me to take 5 just to fuck with me.â
âYou fuckers better be hiding well!â Taehyung calls out, somehow louder than the music.Â
âHeâll never suspect weâll be hiding up here, right?â Jungkook murmurs, coming closer. âLetâs go to your room.â
It doesnât strike you as odd, so you nod. Upon entering your room, you turn the lights on, but dim them enough so it isnât too bright to irritate you .Â
Jungkook closes the door behind him, locking it quietly. He watches you flop onto your bed and let out a sigh. The music from inside here is muffled, the door vibrates softly from the bass.
âAna dressed you up nicely.â Jungkook states, now at the foot of your bed. Your skirt is short and stops at your mid-thigh. He recalls Ana calling it gorilla grip, stating that it wouldnât rise up no matter what you did. Your top is tight, hugging your breast in a way he finds all too appealing.Â
âFor no reason.â you say. You turn to lay on your back now, comfortably against your pillows. âMingyu didnât come.â
Jungkook tilts his head. He wouldnât tell you itâs because he didnât invite him.Â
âHeâll see the pictures in someone's story.â Jungkook shrugs. âBesides, it isnât a waste, right? You had fun.â
âYeah.â you admit. âI did. Iâm going to have a headache tomorrow morning for sure.â you laugh. âI donât know how you do this every week.â
âItâs okay to have fun, Y/N.â Jungkook takes a seat on your bed, watching you. Lazily, he places the water bottle beside him. âAnaâs having the time of her life right now.â
Knowing Ana, right about now she was either hiding somewhere no one could find her or somewhere so obvious. There wasnât an inbetween.Â
âHow are you feeling?âÂ
You let out a breath. âAlright.â you respond. You hadnât thought about Mingyu the entire night like you thought you wouldâve. Before Ana had forced drinks down your throat, you were so anxious about potentially coming face to face with Mingyu that you couldnât focus on anything else. It took her intoxicating you to actually let loose and forget about him.
âThis is probably the drunkest I've seen you.â Jungook chuckles. He lays down besides you, peering up at the ceiling before turning to face you. âYou werenât this drunk at the last kickback.â
You swallow. Jungkook notices the way your eyes advert away, avoiding his gaze. You didnât want to talk about the last party and the way youâve stupidly given in to Mingyu. You felt foolish to believe his words of him actually liking you.Â
âI wasnât aware you noticed.â you snicker. You can finally face Jungkook as the mood lightens, your own self-loathing subsiding. âYou left me as soon as we walked in.â
âI kept my eye on you the entire night.â Jungkook quips.Â
You stare at Jungkook. He stares back. You swallow, your eyes squinting a bit. âWhaâŚwhat?â
âI kept my eye on you,â Jungkook repeats his sentence, his tone lowering to a mere whisper. âthe entire night.â
Your body burns. Surely Jungkook didnât mean that, right? There was no way he knew about you and Mingyu - he wouldâve said something about it by now. Teased you, at least. Though you and Mingyu arenât on the best terms, you believed him when he said he hadnât told Jungkook about that night.
âDoes that upset you?â
You blink a few times to get out of your head. âDoes what upset me?â
âDoes it upset you that I watched?â
Your body stiffens just as Jungkook says it. Your eyes widen slightly, your ears pop as if youâre hearing for the first time. You bite the inside of your cheek.Â
âI didnât mean to at first. I wanted to find you and make sure no oneâs done anything to youâŚâ
Jungkook comes closer to you, a hand laying onto your exposed arm. He can feel the goosebumps on your skin.Â
ââŚthe door was cracked and thatâs when I saw-â
âPlease stop.â
You squeeze your eyes shut. Your hands form into firsts, your nails digging into the delicate skin of your palms. This moment was humiliating now knowing that Jungkook was there. That not only had he caught you and his friend, but he watched.Â
âWould you be upset if I told you I liked watching you?â
Your eyes snap open this time. You jolt upwards, peering down at Jungkook. He appears far too relaxed right now . Maybe he was just drunkenly spewing thoughts he would otherwise conceal.Â
âYouâŚshouldnât say those things.â
âWhy not?â Jungkook questions. âI did like watching you. You lookedâŚdifferent. Relaxed. Pleasured. Itâs a beautiful sight to see.â
You werenât yelling or telling him to get out. You didnât appear disgusted by his voyeur ways, just shocked. It encourages Jungkook to climb on top of you, his knees on either side of your legs.Â
âI liked watching the way your hips grinded." Jungkook murmurs. His hands roam upwards so shamelessly, stopping just underneath your breast. âThe way you moaned and begged for more.âÂ
âYou-â
Jungkookâs hand grips your breasts, his eyes flickering to you in a way thatâs testing your reaction.Â
â-canât do this!â you yelp. Your hands place themselves onto Jungkookâs arm, going to push him away.Â
âWhy not?â Jungkook doesnât move. âBesides the obvious reason.â
Your heart is beating fast, your eyes wide and full of shock. âW-What other reason would there be?â you hiss.
Jungkook hums. His hands go to squeeze your breast, the bra youâre wearing does not allow him to feel them like he wants to, but it was enough for now. âWhat was it about Mingyu?â
Jungkook leans closer to you as his right hand roams upwards, past your collarbone and towards your neck. The alcoholic smell on him is faint and you can smell the citrusy aroma of his cologne now that heâs closer.Â
Your palms dashes to his chest in an attempt to stop him from coming even closer, the sudden closeness causing your head to spin. Your heart continues to leap and just outside the door, you remember that thereâs a party going on.Â
âThere wasnât anything, was it?â Jungkook murmurs. His fingers tap at your neck as goosebumps form. Suddenly, he cups your chin and juts your head towards him. âHeâs just the first person to give you the attention you wanted.â
âThatâs not true.â you retort rather weakly. Even you couldnât sound confident in your rebuttal. Deep down, you thought so yourself.
âWould you be upset if I kissed you?â Jungkook questions. âWould you push me away?â
You inhale. Unbeknownst to you, your hands grip onto Jungkookâs shirt as you process his words.
âIt would be fun.â Jungkook leans a bit closer, not yet touching your lips. His nose glides across yours. âYou and I in here doing something we arenât supposed to while they look for us out there.â
âKook,â you sigh out.
You shouldnât be here, nor should you have allowed Jungkook to do this. You could push him away at any given moment, but instead you choose to lay idle as he does what he wants. A part of you tells you that you did want this - that Jungkook was yet another person who was showing you the attention you wanted.
âStop being so boring, Y/N.â Jungkook presses his lips to yours, more hungrily than even he anticipated. His mind flashes with moments of you and Mingyu, only it was him at the receiving end of it.
Your throat vibrates when you feel Jungkook just his hips forward, deepening the kiss. His hold on your chin tightens, assuring you donât pull yourself away. You hadnât, however, and slowly you feel yourself give into him, your once widened eyes slowly softening.Â
âFeelâs good, right?â Jungkook murmurs against your lips before capturing them again. He ruts his hips towards you once more and itâs evident that he wants more.
âWhat if-â
âStop.â Jungkook lets go of your chin this time, allowing his lips to replace his fingers as he peppers light kisses. âWeâre just having fun, Y/N. Donât think too much into it.â
Just having fun.Â
Your brain keeps repeating Jungkookâs words over and over again.Â
Just having fun.
You let out a slow breath when Jungkookâs lips reach your neck. A hand gently grasps your thigh, tugging it so Jungkook could pull them apart. The new position has your body warming, slight embarrassment flowing through you.
This was wrong, sure, but itâs fun - right? It was just you and Jungkook. The door was closed and, unbeknownst to you, locked. No one would ever think to look for the both of you up here. Everyone was drunk and having their own fun - including you and Jungkook.
âYou smell good.â Jungkook groans against your neck. His hips buckled once more. This time you couldnât help but gasp at the feel of him. âYou always do, though.â
âStop smelling me.â you hiss, though you arenât annoyed; not like you wouldâve been prior. â...creep.â
You hear Jungkook laugh, his breath hitting your neck. More goosebumps form. He lifts himself to face you, his dark eyes scanning your face for a moment.Â
You blink a few times, your eyebrows furrowing slowly at how long Jungkook peers at you. Being in this position already is nerve wrecking, but then you add the way Jungkook stares at you, his face unreadable. You always thought he was handsome, such boyish looks that had you flushing upon first meeting him.Â
âStop staring at me!â you whisper-hiss, already embarrassed enough to be in this position.
Jungkook blinks a few times. âCanât I not find you pretty?â he hisses back. âYouâre going to ruin the mood with your attitude, you know?â
âYouâre only saying that now.â you roll your eyes. âIf you werenât a pervert watching me-â
âIt wasnât like you were being quiet, either. If it wasnât me, it couldâve been anyone.â Jungkook shots, shutting you right up. âBesiiiides, I always found you pretty.â
Jungkook holds eye contact as his hands snake their way underneath the shirt you wore, feeling your soft flesh against his hands. He watches the way your eyes flutter nervously as he reaches closer and closer to your covered breasts.Â
Jungkook wasnât lying when he said he found you pretty. More cute, if anything. The way you always followed the rules just told him that you were used to being your mothers main focus. Now, you had more than enough free time on your hands like the rest of them did and free time meant you could do anything without getting caught.
Attending âstudying sessionsâ that had you tipsy and fucking was once of them.
âHow much fun are you looking to have?âÂ
Itâs you that breaks the silence first just as Jungkookâs hands grips your breast for a second time. Itâs a question that caught him off guard, but heâs more intrigued.
âThe way you act, Iâm scared to tell you what I want to do.â Jungkook teases. This time, his hand rises upwards, dark eyes focusing on your reaction when he gently tugs at your bra strap. âYouâre not gonna act boring now are you?â
Your heart is beating so fast, Jungkook can feel it.Â
âYouâre calling me boring but you havenât done anything to entertain me.â you say boldly. It causes the boyâs eyes to widen a bit, a smirk forming onto his lips at your response.Â
Itâs then Jungkook remembers his water bottle that doesnât have water in it. Itâs discarded a few feet away from him and quickly, he grasps it. He opens it and gulps, the harsh alcohol going down easily. He then holds it out for you to take.
You do, watching him the entire time. Youâve drunk more this year than ever - not that you had the chance to sneak liquor with your mother around. The alcohol burns your throat well, Jungkook hums. âI wanna make you cum.â
You nearly choke at the crude words that come from his lips.
âDonât act shy now.â Jungkook takes the bottle from your hands and takes another swig of it before placing it on your nightstand. âJust go with the flow, okay? Iâll entertain you well.â
It began with kissing again, this time you giving in. Your tongue dances with his, tasting the amount of alcohol you both consumed that had you right here tangled together. Jungkook grinds into you, his bulge hardened and noticeable, but he wasnât the only one that was enjoying this. The heartbeat between your legs is one indicator, along with the growing wetness thatâs forming against your panties.Â
Jungkook doesnât shy away from touching you, his hands roam around your body. He hikes your shirt further and further up, gripping your soft skin at times as if you were going to disappear beneath him. It takes you a moment, but as you grow into the heavy makeout session youâre having with him, your hands wander as well. They settle on his shoulders for a bit, but then slide down his torso. Heâs toned, the workout along with the competitive sports heâs apart of pays off.
Itâs Jungkook who breaks away from you first, a trail of saliva connecting to both of your lips before it snaps. Your eyes flutter open just in time for him to remove his shirt. He throws it aside without a care before his hands connect back to your body. He hikes your own shirt above your head and throws it besides his own. Then, his fingers hook behind your back. âThis has to go, too~â he sing-songs low.
You feel a low breeze in the air when youâre exposed, but Jungkook has enough warmth for the both of you. At the sight of your bare breast, he groans, large hands engulfing them entirely.Â
Your face is hot as Jungkook kneads your breast. He watches you intently, memorizing every reaction your face draws - every moan that falls between those lips. It was him who wanted to make you moan even louder than Mingyu had.
The pads of Jungkookâs thumb circles your hardening nipples, slowly. His cock is already throbbing in his pants, but heâs a patient person. There was nothing he enjoyed more than edging himself on.
âYour tits are just as pretty as you.â Jungkook murmurs. âCome here.â
You pick yourself up from your laying position and allow Jungkook to flip the two of you. It takes him a few seconds to kick off his pants, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. The lack of clothing gives you a better feel of him, especially when Jungkook presses you firmly against his bulge.Â
âYou look even prettier from this angle.â
You roll your eyes in an attempt to hide the shy look on your face. Jungkookâs hands slide up your stomach and towards your breast slowly, as if to savor this very moment. His free hand rests onto your waist, squeezing it.
âDonât act bashful now, Y/N.â Jungkook murmurs. âYou feel good against me.â
It started with kissing, yes, but then it followed by you grinding against him, your kneeâs on either side of his waist. Jungkook isnât sure where to put his hands as he roams it all around your body. He directs you to grind against him harder; faster, the sensation of your warmth against him is far too great for it to stop too soon. He slides his hand around your back, caressing it before he pushes you closer to him.Â
Jungkookâs lips connect to your neck once more. He tells himself that each hand, in order to handle all of you, had to be gripping something else entirely. His left hand is digging its nails into your waist to keep you right where he needs you. His right dips lower to your ass, pushing the skirt up just so he can grip the flesh in his palm. His wet kisses trail lower and lower until theyâre at your breast.
âI know youâre wet.â Jungkookâs muffled against your chest, another squeeze to your ass. âI can feel it.â
Jungkook isnât wrong, you think, youâre entirely too wet just for you and him to be dry humping. Your hips hadnât stopped grinding against his bulge, the sensation against your covered clit all too amazing for you to want it all to end.Â
But of course, Jungkook has to add to your pleasurable suffering. His tongue pokes out from his lips and slides across your soft flesh. He glides it lower and lower before the tip of it captures your nipples. You yelp, but he understands fully with the way you grind against him that you love what heâs doing.
Jungkook captures the sensitive bud into his mouth entirely, suckling on it as he groans in his own satisfaction. His hips jut upwards to meet your own.
Jungookâs cheeks are flushed red, dark eyes clouded with lust. He pops your nipple from his lips and immediately dives for the other one, capturing it in his greedy mouth. His hand proceeds to squeeze your ass once more, in complete and utter bliss to be in this position with you.
âThat feels good.â you whimper out, grinding your hips against his clothed cock. Your panties are soaked through, the forbidden act turning you on more and more.Â
Such words had Jungkook breathing heavily. His cock twitches into your soaked panties. He pops your nipple from his lips, a needy whine following suit. âI wanna make you cum.â
Swallowing, you nod a bit nervous. It wasnât a reason to act shy now, not after you two had seen way too much of one another.Â
Jungkook is quick in pushing you onto your back, your breast bouncing at the impact. Licking his lips, he proceeds to hook his fingers in the hem of your skirt, tugging it down before itâs around your knees. Then, at the sight of the wet spot between your legs, he chuckles.Â
âI like that youâre having fun.âÂ
âFuck off.â you groan, your thighs attempting to close, but Jungkook stops you.Â
âNot until you cum~â Jungook sing-songs. He removes your skirt entirely, discarding it just like he had with your shirt. âYouâre so hot, you know? I never thought a bore like you would hide something like this-â
âNow youâre ruining the mood!â you snap, slapping his wrist in slight irritation that Jungkook only laughs off.Â
âIâm just teasing, baby.â Jungkook shakes his head. âYou know I like a bit of banter.âÂ
You open your mouth to say something more, but Jungkookâs fingers at the center of your already wet clit has you shutting up. Slowly, eyes watching yours, his fingers go between the sticky fabric, sliding it to the side.Â
Jungkook licks his lips again. âI knew youâd have a pretty pussy, too.âÂ
âStop staring at it like that!â you snap at him, cheeks warm. âYouâre such a creep.â
âI canât admire you? Mingyu jumped right into fucking you. Maybe I just wanna savor you.â
You roll your eyes. âShut-â
Before you can utter the âupâ, youâre the one thatâs silenced by Jungkookâs fingers twirling against your sensitive clit. You whimper, eyes fluttering as he continues, quickening the pace and adding pressure.Â
âYou got a lot of mouth for a bitch thatâs leaking all over herself.âÂ
Jungkook cannot believe that Mingyu felt this first. Granted, with a condom, but still. Youâre so wet, dripping with lustful arousal that he cannot fathom ever feeling this around his cock. His heart beats with anticipation, his mouth salivating with hunger he never experienced before for another person.Â
âDo you touch yourself?â
 The question is invasive, sure, but Jungkook doesnât find him asking a big of a deal - especially with the position you both are in now. If anything, he finds it hot at the thought of you touching yourself needily in the same bed you and he are occupying now,
âSometimes.â you murmur shyly.
Jungkook feels his cock twitch once more. He glances at your flushed face for a moment, stunned that youâre already watching him. Your own eyes widen at being caught and all he can do is snicker when you snap your eyes away. He doesnât say anything initially, instead sliding his fingers down towards your entrance, intrigued on how youâd react.
You breath hitches when Jungkook begins to enter two fingers inside of you - slowly. So slow that itâs nearly painful. Your pussy squeezes around him so lovingly, willing to take whatever was offered, sticky and dripping and all for him.Â
Dare you say you were even more embarrassed by how your thighs widened, wanting more from Jungkook of all people.Â
âYouâre so tight.â Jungkook grants, pumping his fingers in and then out - again, slowly. His eyes marvel at your arousal coating his fingers. When he hears a whine from you, it does nothing but encourage him to pump faster. âYou really do have such a pretty pussy, Y/NâŚâ
With his free hand, Jungkook places it onto your outer thigh as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. It squelches, juices splattering onto his palm and wrist; evidence of the forbidden action.Â
Youâre thankful for the music outside playing far too loud for anyone to hear the way you cry with pleasure. Heâs knuckled deep now, contemplating if he wanted to add another finger to further set you off, or continue ramming his fingers deep inside of you until youâre withering beneath him.
âIsnât this fun?â Jungkook murmurs. He leans closer to your face; so close that his warm breath tickles your nose. âTo think anyone can walk in and see us like this.â
It wouldnât happen, Jungkook knows this. Heâs locked the door so that wouldnât happen. Still, the idea of it was hot.
And even you thought so, your pussy squeezing around his fingers even tighter. Your eyes flutter a bit, lips letting out such lewd moans that heâll hear in his thoughts forever.Â
âK-Kook,â you huff, reaching for him.Â
Jungkookâs a bit surprised by you not saying his full name. Even more when you place a hand onto the back of his neck and force him down to your lips, initiating the kiss first.
 Youâre cumming, Jungkook thinks as your tongue dances along his. He doesnât stop pumping until you are, moaning against his mouth prettily, grinding against his hand. Your grip on his neck is tight, but he doesnât mind in the slightest.
Removing his fingers, Jungkook feels the way your juices coat not only him, but yourself and the bed entirely. Your grip on him loosens until you let go, falling against your bed limply. Your chest rises and falls, eyes closed.
The sight of you is ravishing to Jungkook. Your pussy is so wet and sore and the fucked out expression on your face.
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, voice a bit groggily, peaking one eye open. Jungkook has come closer to you, pressing his lips to your ears.
âI wanna have you, too.â Jungkook responds, a pleading tone youâve never heard from him before. âI wanna make you cum again.â
âI-wait!â
You were far too occupied with coming back to your senses that you hadnât noticed how ready Jungkook was. The tip of his cock slides between your wet folds, rubbing along your clit.
âAre you wearing a condom?â you asked hastily, pushing at his chest.
â...I donât have one.â Jungkook knits his brows together. âI-I mean I do butâŚitâs in my room.âÂ
You swallow before huffing.
âYou arenât going to make me get it, right?â Jungkookâs bottom lips jut out, a disappointed look on his face. âI can just pull out.â
âHave you ever done that?â
âYes.â Jungkook nods his head. A lie, heâs never not worn a condom, but he tells himself with you itâs different. With you itâs safe. âI usually pull out with the condom on, anyways.â
You arenât entirely convinced, but itâs the way Jungkookâs cock circles your clit that has you thinking otherwise. Itâs the look on his face, too. So handsome and pleading.
âIâm not on birth control.â your eyes squint at Jungkook.
âStop being dramatic, Y/N, Iâll get you a plan B if things go wrong.â Jungkook states, flashing you a wide boyish grin - because this was your way of agreeing, after all. âJust kidding. Nothing will go wrong. Promise~â
Jungkook isnât so sure of himself when he enters you. Your velvet walls engulf him, warm and wet. He shudders visibly, swallowing thickly. He doesnât move for a moment, truly savoring the way you feel around him.Â
âStop doing that,â Jungkook groans. âStopâŚsqueezing it. Youâre gonna make me cum.â
It was your turn to laugh in his face, an action that has him flushing.
âYouâre such a loser if that is going to make you cum.â you tease.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. He could indulge in your spat, but he chooses to fuck you instead. Both of his hands rest on either side of your head, your legs wrapped firmly around his waist. He begins to thrust slowly at first to get the rhythm of it.
There wasnât any use in holding in your moans - not now. The music dies down in your ears as you focus solely on Jungkook - the sound of his own groans and moans. The way his skin slaps against yours with each thrust, your pussy squelching lovingly for him. The way his dark hair falls into his eyes, but you can still see them peaking through watching you.
âYou really are pretty.â Jungkook murmurs, his fingers grabbing a fistful of your sheets. Heâs watching you so closely, as if memorizing every aspect of your face.
âYouâre just saying that,â you scoff. âbecause youâre deep inside of me.â
Jungkook pumps deeper, hitting that sweet spot that has your back arching. He continues to watch you, enthralled with how your eyes flutter and you let out loud, uncaring cries. Heâs unsure if he ever felt this way with someone else - so caring about how their pleasure felt.
âI always thought you were pretty.â Jungkook grunts. Heâs thrusting into you entirely too deep, determined to hit that tender spot each and every time to have you jerking and stuttering. Your juices splattering against your thigh, your legs tightening around him so he couldnât stop. âYouâre just prettier now beneath me.â
âKook - ah!âÂ
At first, Jungkook thinks your hand on his waist was to signal him to slow down. When he does, a whine hits his ears, then he feels the pressure of your hand on his waist for him to keep on.
To go harder.
So Jungkook does. He slams his cock as deep as he could, uncaring about the headboard slamming against the wall - everyone had to be too drunk to notice. You and Jungkook were too high into forbidden pleasure to even care. Your hands slide up from his waist, tapping against his spine to his neck.Â
â-so good!â your eyes are closed as you speak, his cock ramming into your creamy heat over and over again, your toes curling.Â
Youâre cumming again and Jungkook feels it. Youâre even wetter, more tighter. You wrap both arms around his neck and hold him close, his chest against yours. Itâs an action he hasnât felt before. It felt more intimate than heâs ever experienced. He almost has to remind himself that this wasnât the normal thing to do.
He had to remind himself to pull away from your warm embrace when he feels his own pressure building in, even when he doesnât want to. He cums against your thighs, the closest he could manage when he pulls out of you. Heâs shuddering, twitching as he cums. Itâs too much for him to handle as it seeps out of him entirely - too much than heâs had in a while.
The high dies down, and when it does youâre both left with the realization that this was something that never shouldâve happened. Jungkook stares up at your ceiling as you turn your back to face away from him. Heâs unsure what to do or say.
âAre you okay?â Jungkook finally speaks. It was a habit of his to shake his foot whenever he was anxious.
âYeah.â you say. âJust processing things.â
Jungkook doesnât stay longer than he usually needs to. He wouldnât be out the door by now. He isnât sure what to say to you. He doesnât want you to regret anything and come to despise him for it.
âIâm surprised youâre still here.â
You bring him back to reality.Â
Jungkook blinks once.
Then again. âI canâŚleave,â he mutters.Â
âIsnât that what you usually do?â
Jungkook turns his head slowly to face you. Youâre still turned away from him.
âI hear the girls talk around school.â you say. âYou have a reputation of a fuck boy, but they still want you, you know? See if theyâre different.â
Jungkook hums. He never knew youâd hear about what he did or who he hooked up with. He suppose gossip like that travels to you fast when people think you arenât listening.Â
âI donât care about them.â Jungkook states. Heâs truthful, as bad as it sounds.Â
You scoff. âYouâre an asshole.â
âTrue.â Jungkook ponders aloud. âI care about you, though. I hope you donât link yourself with them.â
You arenât sure what to say, so you say nothing. Jungkook doesnât truly expect you to.
âIâm not lying. I do care about you.â Jungkook repeats. âI donât want you to hate me because ofâŚthis.â
Thereâs more left unspoken that Jungkook doesnât say. He doesnât want you to hate him from ruining whatever couldâve happened with Mingyu for his own selfish reasons. He once told himself that once he got you out of his mind, he could go back to how things were. Now, however, heâs unsure he could keep his mind away from you for even a moment.Â
âI donât hate you.â you finally turn back towards him. You place your han against his chest, lightly tapping it rhythmically from your pinky to your index finger âIt was just a one time thing anyways.â
Jungkook watches you watch him. Slowly, his eyes squint at you. âOkay.â he says, not moving himself away from you. You donât either.
It was evident that this was obviously not a one time thing.
Amidst a heartless divorce, Taehyung, a renowned film director, desperately tries to hold himself together. Enter Jungkook, the Kim family's devoted nanny, who has had his eye on Taehyung for years.
Pairing:Â DILF Taehyung x Nanny Jungkook
Rating:Â Explicit
Genre/Trope:Â Sugar baby/sugar daddy, age gap, domestic fluff, smut, angst
Word Count: 8,461
Content Warning:Â Divorce, infidelity, phone sex, hand jobs, anal sex, daddy kink, sex toys
A/N: Happy 1-year anniversary to this fic! This was supposed to be a standard little PWP and then I made it lowkey depressing. 𼲠(and everyone asked, are we supposed to be surprised??)
Soundtrack:Â Isabel LaRosa - older
The most fucked up part about being a film director married to one of the most prominent actresses in mainstream cinema is having to still cast her in films after already signing the divorce papers. Second on the fucked-up list would be the forced joint attendance at premieres, galas, and other red-carpet events, with all the reporters asking the same goddamn questions:
Was their split amicable?
Have they told their daughter yet? Their goddamn six-year-old daughter who can barely tie her shoes and has never heard the word divorce before in her life?
How do they manage to work on set together?
Is Taehyung upset about the fact that his soon-to-be ex-wife is already in a relationship with the lead actor of a film he fucking directed? Amidst allegations that she was cheating on him with said actor during filming?Â
Of course not! Why would Taehyung be upset? Itâs only that he is the reason Eunji and Sunwoo ever met each other. He chose to pair them as the main love interests in what critics have referred to as the catalyst for a new era of the modern love story, and he encouraged Eunji to take the lead role despite her belief that she wasnât talented enough.Â
Of course, Taehyung isnât upset. Heâs a romantic! How could he possibly be upset about true love? The scowl Taehyung wears as he rips off his suit jacket and kicks off his black leather Louboutin Chelsea boots in the foyer of the mansion, which he still shares with Eunji, isnât from being upset. He just has to sneeze.Â
âTaehyung,â Eunji calls to him as she gingerly tiptoes toward the grand staircase across the foyer, heel straps threaded through manicured fingers adorned with thin gold rings on all but the one that matters. âCan you pay Jungkook, please? Cash, this time. He said he was having issues with KakaoPay.â
She doesnât bother looking up from her phone as she climbs the staircase. She had barely looked Taehyung in the eyes all night, aside from during their obligatory photo op on the red carpet, this time for the premiere of a film he hadnât directed.Â
Theyâre gorgeous together, Taehyung and Eunji, tall and lean with angular faces and piercing eyes that theyâve passed on to their daughter, Yuri. Growing up poor and raised by a single mother, Taehyung was taught the value of hard work and humility. Still, even he knows that he and Eunji are the film industryâs power coupleâthat they were the film industryâs power couple. Everything the Kims touched turned to gold, except for each other. Eunji shines just as brightly as she did when they met fifteen years ago, but now Taehyung crumbles like ash between her fingers.Â
Taehyung waits in the foyer until the creak of the floorboards tells him that Eunji is in Yuriâs bedroom. Only then does he follow in Eunjiâs footsteps up the stairs, taking the opposite direction down the hall.Â
Taehyungâs bedroom reminds him of a mouth full of missing teeth, with white walls and empty crevices around every corner. One half of his king-size bed is made. The double sink in the attached bathroom is bare on one side. Only one robe hangs on the hook beside the shower.Â
He likes to poke at the empty crevices just to feel how groundless and gummy it makes him when he does. Lately, he has made a habit of running his fingers across the ornamental dresser next to the door of the walk-in closet. There are shapes in the dust that covers the dresserâs surface, one rectangle where Eunjiâs antique jewelry box used to sit, others small circles and squares where she threw rings and makeup compacts whenever she was too tired to properly put them away. Taehyung links each shape with his finger, drawing little crossroads between them, and doesnât think about how Eunji has left him with the dustâin the dust.
In the kitchen downstairs, Jungkook is washing dishes. Heâs wearing loose sweatpants and a black hoodie with the sleeves folded past his elbows because Eunji keeps the house freezing in the summer. On the island counter is his laptop and a tattered leather-bound journal flipped open to messy notes. When Taehyung leans his hip against the counter, he reads the English alphabet repeated in Jungkookâs swooping handwriting in the journal and notices a podcast in English paused on the laptop. Beginnerâs language learning may seem trivial, but itâs more than what most twenty-two-year-olds Taehyung knows are doing with their time.
Jungkookâs hair is a weak shade of green, pale like the mints Taehyung enjoys flicking around his teeth with the tip of his tongue when heâs trying to mask the smell of cigarette smoke on his breath. It never works; the minty burst a scent as weak as its color. Taehyung thinks if he sucks on multiple, itâll make a difference, as though a minty smile is a bandage strong enough to clot the bloody wound in his marriage.Â
That part of him has been amputated now. The only thing worse is knowing that other people know how miserable this has made him.Â
Jungkook knows, probably better than anyone else. The nondisclosure agreement he signed before Eunji hired him prevents him from ratting Taehyung out for being lonely, but he knows, probably even more than Taehyung does.Â
âWelcome home, Mr. Kim,â Jungkook greets as he dries his hands on a towel. They own a high-end dishwasher that Jungkook refuses to use. âAre you hungry?â
âNo, no, Iâm fine,â Taehyung holds up his hand when Jungkook opens the refrigerator to reveal the leftovers from his dinner with Yuri. âHow was she tonight?âÂ
âPerfect, as usual, though sheâs still doing that weird picky eater thing,â Jungkook says what Taehyung already expects.Â
It feels domestic, Jungkook putting away the remaining dry dishes while Taehyung fiddles with his gold cufflinks. They often end up like this at night when they cross paths, Jungkook getting ready to leave and Taehyung finally coming home, both needing a quiet moment to wind down from their uniquely stressful days.Â
Few people in Taehyungâs life donât expect him to do something. Life is a performance, even if he isnât an actor. Everyone expects something interesting, something worthwhile. Jungkook expects nothing from Taehyung; nothing feels better than the relief he feels when so much weight is lifted off his shoulders.Â
âShe gets the picky eater thing from her eomma.âÂ
Jungkook hums in acknowledgment of Taehyungâs comment but doesnât respond.Â
Taehyung should tell Jungkook that he doesnât need to finish cleaning the kitchen when itâs far past midnight on a Monday night, and heâll need to be back at the Kim residence to take Yuri to school in the morning. He doesnât, though. Just watches and fiddles and ignores the ache in his hip from the edge of the counter pressing against his hip bone.
âDo you need help with that, Mr. Kim?âÂ
âOh, no, IââÂ
Jungkook gently swats Taehyungâs hand away and grabs the sleeve of his white button-up shirt. Taehyung wonders how touch-starved he must be to shiver when Jungkookâs fingers brush his inner wrist as he removes Taehyungâs cufflinks. Theyâre elegant little gold pieces Eunji bought him for their first wedding anniversary. Thereâs no way for Jungkook to know that, but Taehyung feels judged when Jungkook drops the cufflinks in his open palm with a hard stare, as though he does know.Â
âThere,â Jungkook says quietly, and Taehyung wonders if he imagines Jungkookâs fingers lingering against his palm just a second longer than necessary.Â
Itâs been two years, yet not enough time for Taehyung to have learned how to read Jungkook, especially when they spend such little time together, just these little moments of gentle small talk and light touches that Taehyung ignores with the expertise of an acclaimed actor.Â
âYou should go home,â Taehyung replies when Jungkook lifts his tattooed hand to his face, covering a yawn.Â
Jungkook shrugs with a cheeky grin that makes Taehyungâs body grow warm.Â
âSometimes, I feel like I might as well ask to become a live-in nanny, considering Iâm here all the time.âÂ
The corner of Taehyungâs mouth twitches, a swell of affection making his body betray the melancholy muddling his brain.Â
Rolling his cufflinks around in his hand, Taehyung considers whether they need a live-in nanny. Between Taehyung and Eunji traveling for work and Taehyungâs habit of locking himself in his home office for weeks at a time while he juggles conference calls and passion projects, he knows Yuriâs family life is unlike most childrenâs. She doesnât care, has never known any other way of life. Between kindergarten and Jungkook, her time is well-structured and enriching.
âWould you want to be one?â Taehyung doesnât know why theyâre speaking so quietly. The house is massive. No one can hear them.Â
Jungkook wets his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing over the metal hoop pierced through his bottom lip. Taehyung drops his gaze to focus on rolling his loosened sleeves.Â
âWell, I actually wanted to talk aboutââ Jungkook is interrupted by Eunjiâs shrill voice slicing through the quiet.Â
âTaehyung!âÂ
Cringing, Taehyung twists to face the kitchen doorway, his back to the counter and his hands at his hips to squeeze the edge of it.Â
Eunji is still wearing her wine-red dress from the premiere like a porcelain doll dipped in blood, but now sheâs in sandals and carrying one of her many designer purses Taehyung never remembers the names of. She runs her fingers through her jet-black hair and fluffs it over her shoulder.Â
âYes?â He tries not to breathe in the sweetness of her perfume.Â
âIâm going out,â Eunji tells Taehyung but looks at Jungkook, âIâll be back before Yuriâs ballet class in the afternoon.âÂ
Itâs nearly one in the morning.Â
Taehyung inhales to speak, but Eunji is gone between blinks. Her goodbye sounds like the front doorâs lock clicking once itâs shut.
âSheâs going over to Sunwooâs.âÂ
When Taehyung turns his head, Jungkook seems closer. He mirrors Taehyung and leans his hip against the island counter. Heâs slightly shorter than Taehyung but bulkier in his upper body. Something about Jungkookâs physique reminds Taehyung of how much older he is. His late thirties havenât been unkind, but he misses his youth now more than ever.Â
âI know.âÂ
âTheyâve been fucking for almost a year, Mr. Kim. Sometimes here, but normally in other places.âÂ
Taehyung twists to face Jungkook once again. Their hands slide into each other as he readjusts his grip on the counter.Â
âI know.âÂ
Now.Â
He knows now.Â
Tension builds like anxiety washing over Taehyungâs nervous system, an almost electrical feeling that sparks from where Jungkookâs fingers drag along the back of Taehyungâs hand. They follow a protruding vein up his exposed forearm before he hooks his index and middle fingers in Taehyungâs sleeve, right at the inside of his elbow.Â
âYou deserve better,â Jungkook tugs lightly, but Taehyungâs arm easily gives, letting Jungkook pull him forward. âYou realize that, right? That Eunji noona isnât worth the bullshit?âÂ
Whatâs the bullshit? An arduous divorce procedure that Eunji will pretend wonât turn into petty arguments over whether Taehyung gets to keep all the jewelry he bought her or if she gets more time with Yuri since her schedule isnât as busy? Or does Jungkook think Taehyung will try to win Eunji back?Â
The thought makes Taehyung laugh, dark and shallow.Â
âI appreciate your concern, Jungkook,â Taehyung pulls his arm out of Jungkookâs grasp, âBut what goes on between Eunji and I isnât worth the bullshit, either.âÂ
âI know that,â Jungkook snorts and Taehyung thinks itâs stupid that it hurts his feelings. âBut youâre so⌠Respectfully, Mr. Kim, you donât pay attention.âÂ
Taehyung doesnât, apparently. If this divorce has taught him anything, itâs that he doesnât.Â
Sighing, Taehyung squeezes his cufflinks until their corners bite his palm and pushes himself away from the counter. Heâs tired, and thinking about Eunji before bed is the best way to prevent himself from sleeping.Â
âIâve told you, you donât need to be so formal with me,â Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair, ruffling the strands, thick with gel, until they fall across his forehead.Â
Chewing his piercing between his front teeth and bottom lip, Jungkook watches him intently enough to make Taehyungâs stomach flutter.Â
âI could give you something better, hyung,â Jungkook whispers, his fingers hooking through one of Taehyungâs belt loops.Â
Taehyung knows a proposition when he hears one, but he struggles to comprehend this one. Jungkook is young, with a good head on his shoulders and a future of possibilities. He has a life beyond the Kim home that isnât tainted by divorce and abandonment.Â
âI do not doubt that,â Taehyung murmurs, unable to look Jungkook in the eyes. He drops his gaze to watch Jungkook twist his belt loop between his fingers to tighten his grip.Â
âOkay,â Jungkookâs tone is mocking, with a twinge of amused curiosity.Â
Taehyung shouldnât be surprised when Jungkook cups his jaw to force him to look him in the eyes.Â
Itâs been years since anyone looked at Taehyung the way Jungkook does now, with a gaze that slithers down his body, just to flit back up and remain steady on his mouth when he parts it slightly, suddenly breathless. Jungkookâs fingers tug on his clothes harder than before.Â
Taehyung has no reason to follow Jungkookâs leadâexcept that he hasnât been touched in so long, and Jungkook is pretty. His eyes crinkle, and his nose scrunches when he smiles, exposing prominent teeth that give his face an innocence that starkly contrasts with the rest of him. Thereâs something soft about him despite his hard edges. Funny, how Taehyung initially thought Jungkook, with his tattoos and facial piercings, would be more of a bad influence on Yuri than her own parents.
âOkay?â Taehyung doesnât know what heâs asking and gasps because Jungkook has him backed against the counter.Â
He should be more intelligent. Isnât he? He canât think with Jungkookâs thick thigh slotted between his legs, his mind too foggy from the draw of Jungkookâs cologne to consider how suddenly this has escalated.Â
âWill you let me?â Jungkook seeks permission for something Taehyung doesnât understand.Â
He gives it to Jungkook anyway.Â
Despite how rough Jungkook is as he digs his fingers in the hair at the back of Taehyungâs head to hold him steady, his whimper when he slots their lips together is so soft that Taehyung feels dirty from how the sound makes his cock twitch. Heâs noisy as he sucks Taehyungâs bottom lip into his mouth, nipping and flicking his tongue over it.Â
It isnât difficult for Taehyung to remember the last time he was kissed, though the memory quickly spirals because it begins with a kiss and ends with, âTaehyung, I want a divorce.â
Kissing Jungkook wonât end in divorce, but Taehyung canât keep himself from thinking about Eunjiâs words, how they flayed him open with sharp precision, each syllable slicing off a piece of his heart. He thinks about them whenever he smokes his cigarettes, a more frequent occurrence now that he and Eunji live separate lives, Eunji hardly around enough to pester him about the smell.Â
Taehyung wonders if Jungkook tastes cigarettes when they part their lips to roll their tongues over each other, flicking and pressing back against each other until their lips are slick with spit.Â
Cigarettes and kisses, water and oil in Taehyungâs failed marriage. The less time his lips spent kissing, the more often they curled around a cigarette butt.
âStop it,â Jungkook hisses into Taehyungâs mouth, âStop thinking about her.âÂ
Taehyung wants to tell Jungkook that he canât. Theyâre in his kitchen, in the house he still shares with his soon-to-be ex-wife and his daughter, who is fast asleep upstairs.Â
But his words melt into moans as Jungkook grinds his thigh against Taehyungâs cock.Â
âOh, fuck,â Taehyung tilts his head back to let Jungkook leave wet, hot kisses along his throat.Â
âYou sound so good, hyung,â Jungkook grabs a handful of Taehyungâs shirt to untuck it with a hard yank so he can slide his palm against the warm skin of Taehyungâs waist, âFeel good, too.âÂ
Jungkookâs fingers dip lower, brushing along the edge of Taehyungâs Calvins and leaving goosebumps in their wake.Â
âCan I touch you?â Jungkook pants against Taehyungâs lips while he fumbles with the button of his slacks.Â
The sound of Taehyungâs cufflinks clattering onto the marble floor gets lost beneath his moans.
âYeah, yeah.âÂ
Taehyungâs stomach swoops and dips as Jungkook unzips his slacks and wiggles his hand down the front of his underwear. His cold touch makes Taehyungâs cock twitch and jump, just as unsteady as the rest of his body.Â
âAlways knew you were big,â Jungkook smirks, his teeth pressed against the curve of Taehyungâs jaw, and strokes his cock in one long, smooth movement that gathers the slippery precum that dribbles from Taehyungâs slit and drags it down to the base.Â
Taehyung can hardly appreciate the praise and canât come up with a single coherent thought. He quivers. Jungkook has to force his legs farther apart with his thigh because Taehyungâs knees buckle by the third stroke.Â
Itâs a tight fit because neither of them pulls Taehyungâs slacks down far enough to get his cock out, but he likes the restriction for some reason. It feels wrong, like something quick and dirty, too secret to risk getting comfortable.Â
It is wrong, quick, and dirty, a secret Taehyung has no option but to keep.Â
But Jungkook is pretty, and he watches Taehyung with innocent doe eyes that shine brighter than the polished gold cufflinks sprinkled on the floor as Taehyung moans and pants, the build of his orgasm turning his insides to lava. The innocence is a facade, but Taehyung thinks theyâre both getting off on pretending.Â
Taehyung slips his hands under Jungkookâs hoodie and the t-shirt beneath it to rake his nails across his skin, searching for the perfect section of smooth skin to dig into as his orgasm shudders through him.Â
âJungkook,â Taehyung panics, bucking up into Jungkookâs hand.Â
âAlready?âÂ
No one has touched Taehyung like this in nearly a year. He rarely touches himself like this.Â
Taehyung cums with Jungkookâs mocking laughter huffed along the curve of his ear. He nearly bends backward over the counter, dragging Jungkook with him. He pulls back, like he's trying to run from the pleasure.Â
Unphased, Jungkook cups Taehyungâs balls with one hand to stroke them while they pulse, keeping his other hand rolling tight circles with his palm over the head of Taehyungâs cock. It does nothing to contain the mess, but neither of them cares.
Once Taehyung calms, Jungkook wipes his cum-slicked hand on his thigh. Taehyungâs brain is too floaty to be upset about cum getting on slacks that cost over a million won.Â
âI think thatâs the fastest Iâve ever made someone cum,â Jungkook looks over his shoulder as he teases Taehyung on his way to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.Â
Jungkookâs comment makes shame curl in the pit of Taehyungâs stomach. The level to which Taehyung enjoys it concerns him.Â
If Jungkook is bothered by how mute Taehyung is, he doesnât show it. If anything, Taehyung thinks the whole situation seems funny to Jungkook, like heâs getting a kick out of making Taehyung cum on himself and regress into a fumbling, breathless, mindless version of himself fueled by the desire to be touched in a way no one wants to touch him anymore.Â
Itâs rather pathetic.Â
Cheeks burning and body still suffering an occasional tremor, Taehyung is afraid to speak when Jungkook returns to stand between his legs with his hands gripping the edge of the counter at Taehyungâs hips.Â
âI canât believe Eunji is going to miss out on that,â Jungkook prods Taehyungâs clothed, soft cock with his knee.Â
âShit, donât,â Taehyung curls inward from oversensitivity, âI, sheââÂ
Jungkookâs lips are pillowy and smooth when he isnât biting and sucking Taehyungâs. They shut Taehyung up and make him melt against the counter. Jungkook is hypnotic, his presence somehow all-encompassing, all-consuming when it usually isnât.Â
Or is it? Taehyung thinks he canât remember what it was like to know Jungkook before this.Â
The difference twenty minutes make.Â
Taehyungâs eyes fly open when Jungkook breaks the kiss to pluck Taehyungâs wallet from his back pocket. Heâs got that cheeky, lopsided grin that makes Taehyung feel weird as he counts the bills inside, pulling out just a little more than what the Kims owe him for the day.Â
âA little extra won for the additional services,â Jungkook winks, tossing Taehyungâs wallet on the counter, âIâll see you in the morning, Mr. Kim.â
Taehyung sees Jungkook in the morning, hardly five hours later, but only briefly.
They squeeze past each other through the front door. Jungkook, with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his hair tousled from little sleep, and Taehyung, with a suitcase in one hand, a duffle bag strapped across his chest, and the rim of a disposable paper cup of English breakfast tea clenched between his teeth. At the same time, he tries to stick a wireless earbud in one ear.
âHey, I know you forgot, but I have to be in New York for the next two weeks,â Taehyung snaps once he takes the cup from his mouth.
Taehyung gives Jungkook an apologetic look when he realizes it sounds like heâs getting pissy at him, and not Eunji complaining in his ear that he is so inconsiderate of her time, like as if Taehyung should schedule his life around Eunjiâs extramarital affairs.Â
Thereâs little time to feel embarrassed by the memory of the night before when Taehyung needs to get on a plane and Jungkook needs to prepare Yuriâs breakfast before school. Still, Taehyungâs stomach dips so low that his groin pulses when Jungkook grabs his waist to steady him after he nearly trips down the stairs leading from the houseâs front door.
âEunji, listen, noâListen to me. I told you a month ago that I need to tour the premises before I can just sign off on theââ
Taehyung is scouting the perfect location for his upcoming movie; shouldnât she be excited for him? Instead, the beep of Eunji ending the call ricochets in Taehyungâs skull.
âDo you need help, hyung?â Â
How many times in the past two years has Jungkook asked that question?Â
Taehyung holds his breath when Jungkook presses his palm flat against his chest, curls his fingers around the strap of his duffle bag, and lifts it over his head to carry it on his own shoulder. Their fingers brush on the handle of Taehyungâs suitcase, and his body remembers the pleasure in the kitchen, their hands intertwined against the counter.Â
Late, the Kim familyâs chauffeur finally pulls up to the house in a nondescript black car. He rushes to help Jungkook with Taehyungâs luggage, carrying it as if itâs precious cargo, not two weeks' worth of underwear and a high-end camera that Taehyung could buy a billion times over.Â
âTell Yuri I said I love her,â Taehyung grabs Jungkookâs wrist when he turns to jog back up the driveway, âShe didnât want to wake up when I went into her room.âÂ
Jungkookâs gaze lingers on Taehyung's lips, his eyes lidded and heavy with sleep. Unsettled, Taehyung tries to divert his attention elsewhere.Â
âYouâll call?â Jungkook asks.
The air around them is tainted by the smell of car exhaust, but Taehyung is engulfed by the fruity and sweet aroma of Jungkook's shampoo. His chauffeur has already slipped into the driver's seat, and the heavily tinted windows make it difficult for Taehyung to tell if he and Jungkook are being watched. The question hangs in the air, soft and warm, like Jungkook's breath brushing against Taehyung's cheek.Â
They're standing too close.
âYeah, Iâll call,â Taehyung squeezes Jungkookâs wrist before he lets go to open the car door.Â
As the chauffeur drives away, Taehyung leans against the window, watching Jungkook standing at the end of the driveway until they round the corner and he can no longer see him. With a heavy sigh, Taehyung lets his head fall back on the seat and wonders why it feels like he has just made a promise he canât keep.
Contrary to what most people assume, Taehyung hates traveling. He likes to travel, experience the world, and live beyond what heâs accustomed to, but he hates the act of travelingâplanes, cars, buses, etc. Taehyung hates it all. He canât stand transitory spaces, moments in time when heâs not quite where he once was but not yet in the next place he needs to be.Â
âOh, so like your marriage,â Namjoon points out in the middle of Taehyungâs rant, much to Taehyungâs disliking. âDivorce proceedings are like a liminal space. Youâre still married, but youâre not together. One foot in the door, the rest of your body out. Or, well, your body is still in the door. Eunji just barely has her big toe still across the threshold.âÂ
âCan you shut up?â Taehyung glares at Namjoon over the rim of his glass before taking a sip, hissing once the amber liquid washes over the back of his throat. Bourbon isnât Taehyungâs drink of choice, but Namjoon said itâs âdistinctly Americanâ and thus a requirement for their trip.Â
Were multiple glasses of Bourbon a requirement, though? Taehyung distinctly thinks not. Yet here he is, both forearms crossed against the sleek, black marble counter of some high-end cocktail bar, with rosy cheeks and an open tab.Â
âAm I not wrong?â Namjoon slams down his glass, empty aside from melting ice cubes.
âFor as long as I have known you, you are always wrong.âÂ
Ignoring Taehyung, Namjoon beckons the bartender and asks her for another round of drinks in Korean. The womanâs gaze slides from Namjoon to Taehyung, who kicks Namjoon in the shin and nearly throws himself off the barstool heâs perched on.Â
âSorry, itâs a mess up here,â Namjoon laughs as he taps his forehead and tries ordering in English this time, his smile all sweet and dimpled.Â
Namjoonâs entire face is red, and sweat beads along his hairline. Despite the chilly air outside, itâs hot and stuffy inside the bar. Crowded yet calm, the bar patrons respect the quiet atmosphere, with its dim lighting and dark furniture, that seems to mute conversations. Even Taehyung and Namjoon, both easily boisterous, are subtle in their playful bickering.Â
âDid the rest of the crew leave already?â Namjoon asks as he looks over his shoulder at the booths and tables.Â
âDidnât you hear Wonho say theyâre going back to the hotel?âÂ
It takes a second for Namjoon to react. Taehyung wonders if theyâre both too drunk to properly communicate with each other anymore. His lips are beginning to tingle, and thatâs never a good sign.Â
âItâs not even that late,â Namjoon pouts. He hands his credit card to the bartender in exchange for the next round of drinks anyway.Â
Taehyung doesnât want another drink. Heâs exhausted from the jetlag that a fourteen-hour time difference triggers, and heâs spent the past few days talking nonstop. Thereâs always something. As Taehyung grows older, he realizes he desperately wishes for less.Â
âAre you even listening? Did you hear what I said?â Namjoon shoves Taehyungâs shoulder hard enough to tip his barstool.Â
With a panicked yelp, Taehyung clutches the edge of the bar counter to hold himself upright as the stool wobbles.Â
âYouâre going to knock me on the fucking floor,â Taehyung grumbles. Â
Namjoon watches Taehyung with glossy eyes when he asks, âWhat are you thinking about, Tae?â
Namjoon waits for a response with a sense of earnestness as if he genuinely cares about whatâs made Taehyung so quiet. He does care; heâs not only Taehyungâs colleague as a fellow film director, but heâs also one of Taehyungâs dearest friends. Â
âYuri hasnât wanted to talk to me since we got to New York. She has only called me a handful of times,â Taehyung admits with a sigh. He runs a shaky hand through his hair as he speaks, âWe spoke on the phone two days ago, briefly, and she told me she blames herself for everything going on with Eunji, as though she thinks she has done something to make Eunji and I no longer love each other.â
Taehyung reaches for the receipt and pen in front of Namjoon to sign for the expenses. He doesnât bother paying attention to the cost; he only mentally processes it enough to calculate a tip before he tosses the pen on the counter.Â
âSix years old, and sheâs already carrying the burden on her tiny shoulders. This is exactly why I said I didnât want to fucking tell her about the divorce.âÂ
âTaehyungâŚâ Namjoon clasps Taehyungâs shoulder, digging his fingers into the tense muscles through his shirt. âYuri just doesnât fully understand whatâs going on. Sheâs trying to make sense of it in her own way. Kids donât understand how life can just⌠change like this, with no warning, no reason apparent to them.â
Namjoon is correct, but that reality doesnât make Taehyung wrong. Yuri is young and impressionable, and she doesnât understand, which is why sheâs vulnerable to such terrible thoughts. Taehyung insisted that these things be kept a secret, but Eunji had other plans.Â
Before Namjoon can say anything further, Taehyungâs phone vibrates loudly against the bar counter.Â
âItâs Jungkook,â Taehyung mutters, reaching for his coat hung on a hook below the bar counter. He doesnât wait for Namjoon to follow him as he shoulders past the other bar patrons until he can step into the chilly night. Itâs still noisy. New York always is, but Taehyung feels less distracted when he can lean against the cold brick at the corner of the building and focus on accepting the incoming video call.Â
âAppa!â Yuri shouts, her little voice cutting through the sirens ringing in the city streets.Â
âHi, baby. How are you doing?âÂ
âGood! Jungkookie oppa took me to the park! There was a doggy named Mouse, isnât that silly? We should get a puppy and name it something silly. Like, well, um, I need to think about it.âÂ
Taehyung smiles as Yuri rambles on, waving her arm in every direction as she shows Taehyung the park theyâre at. He canât see Jungkook in the video, but he can hear him giggle with Yuri when she says something particularly amusing.Â
Yuri is dressed cutely, with her hair in evenly parted pigtails, and wearing a sky blue puffy dress she refers to as her âprincess dress.â Sometimes, Taehyung thinks Jungkook does a better job raising Yuri than he does.Â
As most children are, Yuri is easily distracted. She quickly loses interest in describing every special rock she finds at the park and eventually passes the phone to Jungkook so she can âmake new friendsâ and test out how many spins on the swingset it will take for one of them to throw up.
âHi, hyung,â Jungkookâs smile shines in the midday sun, his eyes sparkling with the warm rays of light. Taehyung canât stop himself from smiling, too.Â
âJungkook-ah,â Taehyung nearly whispers his name, still too aware of their secret. âHow is everything?âÂ
âI know sheâs been kind of stubborn, but she misses you,â Jungkook says. The wind ruffles his minty hair, lifting his bangs and giving him an angular look. âI miss you, too.âÂ
âJungkookâŚâÂ
âHyung,â Jungkook rolls his eyes, but heâs still smiling, and Taehyung is, too. âJust tell me you miss me.â
âI do,â Taehyung obliges, and it isnât a lie.Â
Every business trip away forces Taehyung to remember the fact that his days are better when he gets to spend those sacred quiet moments with Jungkook at the end of the night. In that transition period, the two of them come and go. He misses that, even without the handjob.
Theyâve been through this already, earlier in the New York trip. Itâs wrong to talk to Jungkook like this, someone so much younger than Taehyung, someone who works for him.Â
Itâs also wrong to deposit a little extra money in Jungkookâs bank account every time he leaves Taehyung little reminders of how much more Jungkook could do to remedy the lonely ache in Taehyungâs chest every night he goes to bed alone.Â
Itâs so, so wrong, but Taehyung doesnât put an end to itâand he could. He could ignore Jungkookâs call later, when heâs back in his hotel room and Jungkook has put Yuri to bed for a nap. He doesnât, though. He could end the call when Jungkook tells him again how much he misses him. He could tell Jungkook to stop when Jungkook moans into the phone and tells him that heâs touching himself to Taehyungâs rich, smooth voice.Â
Taehyung could end all of it because itâs wrong, but he doesnât.Â
Instead, when Jungkook calls Taehyung during the New York trip, Taehyung lies in the dark hotel room as warmth spreads from his chest lower until he canât ignore his cock stirring in his boxers with each of Jungkookâs moans.Â
âHyung, I canât stop thinking about how incredible you sound when you cum,â Jungkook whimpers later when Taehyung and Namjoon have returned to the hotel and gone their separate ways. âIâd fucking listen to that all night, every night.
The cool air in the hotel room blows against Taehyungâs chest, making him shiver, but the heat pooling in his stomach is enough to keep him warm.Â
âWhere are you, Jungkook-ah?â Taehyung can hear rustling in the background.Â
âIn your bed. Eunji noona took Yuri out shopping.âÂ
Taehyung lets his head fall back on his pillow as he closes his eyes and imagines Jungkook sprawled on his bed, the one heâd shared with Eunji for so many years. He wonders if Jungkook would be even prettier than she was when Taehyung had her underneath him.Â
âI donât believe you,â Taehyung lies because he knows Jungkook will send him a picture. He doesnât directly ask for one, though. He hopes that makes him less bad.Â
Taehyungâs cock is a heavy burden fisted in his hand. Slowly spreading precum, he runs his thumb along his slit and thinks about the heat of Jungkook's mouth. He can practically feel them engulf his cock, stretched lips swollen and bitten red. He wants to know what Jungkook tastes like, what his name sounds like as a whimper or a moan spilling from Jungkook's needy mouth.Â
âOhh, fuck, Iâm gonna cum,â Jungkook moans through the wet, sloppy sounds echoing over the phone. âPlease, daddy, let me cum. Tell me I can cum.âÂ
âDaddy?â Taehyung nearly chokes. Shame tightens his chest when his cock twitches at the pet name.Â
âYou like that, daddy? Do you like when I call you daddy while you imagine youâre fucking my mouth? God, I wish I could taste your cock.âÂ
Jungkook is cheeky and mocking, even when heâs praising Taehyung. Taehyung likes how shameful that makes him feel, too. He lets out a breathy sigh and draws his bottom lip between his teeth as he pumps himself harder, slightly picking up the pace.Â
âTell me,â Jungkook hisses in what sounds like an attempt to hold back a whimper.Â
âYou can cum, Jungkook-ah. You canââÂ
Taehyung presses his palm against his mouth to keep quiet when he cums, knowing Namjoonâs hotel room is right next door.Â
The rub of Taehyungâs meaningless wedding ring, which he still wears out of depressing habit, dragging along the throbbing veins of his cock is what finally sends him over the edge. He cums into his hand as he imagines what it would feel like to sink inside Jungkook. In reality, his cum is messy and hot as it drips down his pulsing cock and between his fingers, making his useless ring stick uncomfortably to his skin.Â
Taehyung is so fucked.
If someone told Taehyung heâd become a renowned film director, get married, have a child, get divorced, and become a sugar daddy before he turned forty, he would have laughed in their face.Â
Now, his bank statements from the past few months reveal an embarrassing pattern of purchases of childrenâs toys, payments to his lawyer, and seemingly random purchases that always end up in the hands of Jeon Jungkook.Â
Taehyungâs money isnât endless, but the likelihood of it ever running out is slim. He supposes he could live off of royalties alone and never pick up another film project for the rest of his life. Itâs not about the money, though. For other people it may be. Capitalism destroys art, though, and Taehyung prefers to keep thoughts about his finances separate from his film passion projects. If he considers his art his paycheck, heâll never want to create anything againâand what kind of life would that be?Â
Money is different for a twenty-two-year-old with dreams of making it big. The English language learning and desire to brush up against fame arenât just for fun. After nearly two years, Taehyung finally learns that Jungkookâs true passions lie in acting and film production. Jungkook has goals, and Taehyung, as the seasoned professional between them, canât possibly sit back and not help.Â
If Namjoon looks at Taehyung funny when he asks him to babysit Yuri while he attends yet another obligatory celebrity event, this time with Jungkook, well, thereâs nothing Taehyung can do about that. If Taehyung is going to be a proper mentor, he must ensure that Jungkook ends up in the right rooms with the right people.Â
The fact that they have phone sex practically every night because Taehyung is too afraid to fall asleep alone and Jungkook likes the money he gets out of it is beside the point. Ever since that night in the kitchen, nothing physical has happened between the two of them. Taehyung and Jungkook maneuver with and around each other as though they donât practically fall asleep to the sound of each other coming. Jungkook is sweet and caring to Yuri, as always. He gets along well with Eunji despite the tension that Eunji brings with her into every conversation. When heâs with Taehyung, heâs polite and cheerful.Â
Itâs strange, living a double life. It makes Taehyung feel even slimier, but he doesnât stop.Â
The thing is, Taehyung should have known that what's done in the dark always comes to light.Â
Taehyungâs desk is littered with to-do lists. Some are on looseleaf paper, others on sticky notes or scrap paper ripped from notebooks or crumpled in the back of desk drawers. An artist type in the most terribly stereotypical way, Taehyung has yet to master the arts of time management and organization. He even maintains a digital to-do list attached to his work email account calendar. However, that one is a bit more successful than the physical to-do lists that get accidentally thrown out or left in the pockets of his slacks to disintegrate in the washing machine later.Â
The digital to-do list is ideal because itâs more reliable and makes a cute little sound whenever Taehyung marks an item as completed. The application cheers him on whenever he completes more than five daily tasks.Â
Five may not seem like much, but when Taehyung spends half his office days on conference calls, arguing about salaries and film sets, he needs something to motivate him.Â
For now, he clicks through an old list of tasks on his to-do list to watch the virtual confetti rain down his computer screen while two of his colleagues argue over the phone. Taehyung is working from his home office, so he keeps his wireless earbuds in rather than put the call on speaker phone, not wanting the loud conversation to carry out of his office and disrupt anyone else who may be home.Â
Barely five minutes into the phone call, Taehyung already wants to hang up. He has more important matters to deal with, like buying a new condo in the city so he can have a good excuse to get out of this goddamn house.Â
Too distracted by his colleagues, Taehyung doesnât hear the knock at the door, nor does he notice someone slip inside his office until theyâre picking at the stray papers scattered across his desk.Â
âHyung, your office is a disaster,â Jungkook says, amusement flickering like sun rays in his eyes and with a twitch of his mouth when he holds back a smile.Â
Muting himself on his phone and removing one earbud, Taehyung slightly tilts back in his desk chair to stare at Jungkook.Â
âIâm on a call, Jungkook. Do you need something?âÂ
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Nightly orgasms and a little more money in his bank account have turned Jungkook bratty. Taehyung hates that he likes it.Â
âEunji noona brought Yuri with her to her halmeoni,â Jungkook reaches for the removed earbud, but Taehyung pulls his hand back before Jungkook can snatch it.
âSo?â
âSo,â Jungkook rolls his eyes again, âIâm bored.â
âAnd what exactly am I supposed toââ Taehyung cuts himself off as he scrambles to unmute himself when his colleagues address him on the call, âYes, Seojoon, I already sent those documents to Bogum last week. The executives at Park Enterprises said security clearance wouldnât be difficult to obtain once the cast is finalized.âÂ
Returning the earbud to his ear, Taehyung gives Jungkook a stern look before focusing on pulling up the documents on his computer. Theyâre highly technical, with lots of legal jargon that even Taehyung wasnât well-versed in, so he has to review the document with his colleagues.Â
âI assume theyâll all have valid passports?â Taehyung scrolls through the files, searching for the correct section to review.Â
Determined to make his problems Taehyungâs, Jungkook maneuvers around Taehyungâs arms until he can forcibly sit in his lap. On another day, it could be cute and maybe even send Taehyung into a little panic attack, but Taehyung isnât in the mood when he has frustrated coworkers in his ears.Â
Get off, Taehyung mouths to Jungkook because his phone is out of reach now.Â
Jungkook leans with his back against Taehyungâs chest, and his legs spread to rest on the outside of Taehyungâs thighs. When he turns his head, his lips brush against the base of Taehyungâs throat.Â
âNo,â Jungkook whispers before giving Taehyung's throat a gentle kiss that makes goosebumps spring across his skin.Â
Jungkookâs weight feels nice, even more so if Taehyung just sits back and lets Jungkook get comfortable. Taehyung is too on edge for that, though, especially when Jungkook wiggles to get comfortable and inadvertently grinds his ass on Taehyungâs crotch.Â
Hissing quietly, Taehyung squeezes Jungkookâs hip to still him, but Jungkook giggles and does it again. He leans forward to grab the edge of the desk and gyrates his hips, grinding down on Taehyung in slow circles.
âJungkook,â Taehyung whispers, fingers digging into Jungkookâs skin to tighten his grip on his hip bone. When he tries to reach for his phone to mute himself, Jungkook snatches it and sets it near the corner edge where Taehyung canât reach it.Â
âAre you mad at me, daddy?â Jungkook asks quietly. âI just want to spend time with you. Real time with you, not just on the phone.âÂ
Jungkook is wearing skimpy athletic shorts just like his homemade crop top, which exposes the toned expanse of his abdomen. Itâs a shame that Taehyung canât even appreciate it since Jungkook isnât facing him, but he does have a full view of how firm Jungkookâs ass is as he rubs Taehyungâs now fully hard cock through his slacks. Each roll of his hips hikes his shorts up further until theyâre at the crease of his thighs, putting his legs on display.Â
âYouâre always so busy,â Jungkook whispers against Taehyungâs throat when he leans back again.Â
âItâs on page fifty-eight,â Taehyungâs voice cracks on the last syllable when Jungkook grabs his hand off the mouse and presses Taehyungâs fingers against his ass. Taehyung feels something round and knobby between Jungkookâs cheeks, not needing to see what it is to know that itâs a butt plug.Â
Taehyung takes a deep breath as Jungkook curls his fingers around the waistband of his athletic shorts and uses both their hands to pull them down his thighs so Taehyung can see the diamond nestled between his cheeks.Â
âI thought you might want to know where your money is going,â Jungkook smirks when he looks at Taehyung over his shoulder.Â
Taehyung thinks he might start crying if his coworkers donât stop asking him to read parts of the legal document out loud to them.Â
Itâs clear that Jungkook has turned this into a game. He twists around in Taehyungâs lap to rub his palm against the hard bulge in Taehyungâs slacks and grins when Taehyung tries not to look at him while he reads off the computer screen. Every time Taehyung opens his mouth to answer his colleaguesâ questions, Jungkook squeezes his cock.Â
âCan I have it, daddy?â Jungkook rubs the head of Taehyungâs cock through his slacks as he pulls down the zipper, âPlease?â
Taehyung shouldnât do it. Heâs already struggling to breathe properly on this phone call, and his forehead and the nape of his neck are damp with sweat. He canât even put himself on mute. Jungkook is twenty-two. Jungkook is their nanny. Taehyung shouldnât do it.Â
Jungkook leans forward to brush their lips together as Taehyung lifts his hips so Jungkook can pull his pants down far enough to release his cock. If having Jungkook half-naked in his lap wasnât enough torture, when Jungkook turns back around, he guides Taehyungâs hand to the jewel sitting pretty between his cheeks. The plug makes a wet, squelching sound when Taehyung pulls it from Jungkookâs stretched hole, lube dripping from it in sticky strings that smear Taehyungâs desk when he puts it off to the side. One of his colleagues asks him a question, but heâs too mesmerized by how Jungkookâs shiny hole flutters now that itâs empty.Â
âGive it to me,â Taehyung thinks he hears Jungkook whine.Â
Taehyung swipes his thumb over a glob of lube that leaked down the inside of Jungkookâs thigh and uses it, along with his own precum, to slick up his cock. He takes too long, though, and Jungkook swats his hand away to grab his cock and line it up himself.Â
Rather than go slow, Jungkook drops onto Taehyungâs cock with all his weight, making his ass slap against Taehyungâs thighs and ripping a moan out of his throat so loud that Taehyung immediately ends the phone call.
âWhat the fuck, Jungkook?â Taehyung wants to be stern and wants Jungkook to understand that he canât just fuck around like that with Taehyungâs job, even if Taehyung encourages it.Â
But then Jungkook leans forward to lift his hips and drop back down again, enveloping Taehyungâs cock in his wet heat. Taehyungâs other complaints immediately morph into moans so breathy and pathetic that he shocks himself.Â
âI feel good, donât I?â Jungkook whimpers as he fucks himself on Taehyungâs cock even harder, using the desk to give himself momentum. âTell me, daddy, tell me.âÂ
âFuck, baby, you do,â Taehyung flings his head back and bucks his hips to meet Jungkook with his own thrusts.Â
âMhm, you wish you had me sooner, donât you?â Jungkookâs voice takes on a higher pitch, something whiny and cute. âCould have been fucking me instead of wasting your time being sad about noona.â
The chair creaks and scratches against the floor as Jungkook bounces on Taehyungâs cock, filling the office with the sound of their moans and wet skin slapping together.Â
Taehyung nods fervently, his head rolling and lolling as Jungkook uses him, drawing breathy moans from Taehyung, little âah, ah, ahâsâ that make him feel lightheaded because he isnât inhaling.Â
âYes, fuck, yes, yes,â Taehyungâs arms fall limp at his sides as he lets Jungkook control the pace.
âYou like when I fuck you, hyung?â Jungkook sounds so smug as if he knows he has Taehyung right where he wants him. Taehyung canât even care to feel ashamed of how easy he is.Â
Taehyung nods, his voice caught in his throat.Â
âTouch me. I wanna cum, please.â
âYeah? Fuck, baby, fuck,â Taehyung reaches around to fist Jungkookâs cock as he feels his own orgasm build. It dips and burns the pit of his stomach almost as quickly as it had that first night, all those months ago.Â
âI could give you something better, hyung,â
As touch-starved as Taehyung is, he holds off until after Jungkook cums with a cry that makes Taehyung glad thereâs no one else home.Â
Itâs messy and loud, and it takes too long for Taehyung to come down from his high. He feels sluggish, even after Jungkook climbs off him and strips his shirt, using it to clean himself off before tossing it to Taehyung. Itâs been so long since Taehyung has felt so content, not just satiated from physical pleasure, but from shared intimacyâeven if it will make him feel slimy later.Â
âIf I didnât work out so much, that position would have been too hard to maintain,â Jungkook mumbles against Taehyungâs chest when he climbs back into his lap.Â
Heâs unfazed by their current physical state and never seems shy about the fact that heâs fucking his boss, the father of the kid he cares for. Taehyung wants to be free like that, unashamed, unapologetic. Eunji is; sheâs even worse. Itâs a bunch of bullshit, just like Jungkook said.Â
âHow are you so casual about this, all the time?â Taehyung asks quietly, eyes closed so he can try to think through the fuzz in his brain.Â
âI donât know,â Jungkook shrugs, âI like you, you like me. What else is there?âÂ
It feels too simple, but Taehyung likes it. He thinks back on how much of a hopeless romantic he is and how his films revolve around finding love, or at least acceptance and intimacy. Does Jungkook love him? Taehyung feels too silly to ask, but he thinks if this were one of his films, heâd want it to end just the way they are, cuddled up despite the mess theyâve made of each other, without shame.Â
âIâm not like her,â Jungkook likely mistakes Taehyungâs pensiveness for sadness. âI wonât do you the way she did you.â
âThe thought never crossed my mind, Jungkook-ah,â Taehyung murmurs against Jungkookâs forehead, lips brushing a light kiss that canât begin to convey the swell of affection Taehyung feels for the man he cradles against his chest.