she calls me moonlight

🌬️ Chapter: 01

August had always carried something strange in the air on the island. Heat clung to the stone walls even after sunset and salt soothed the worries away just a bit longer. The cicadas fell silent just after midnight when the sea turned dark and still, as if holding it’s breath.

 Legend says the tide longs for the full moon’s touch , stalling Poseidon’s summons of turmoil and chaos.

 Moonlight kisses away the worries and lifts the sea’s sunken sorrows, allowing it to dream of countless bright stars. The sea slumbers gently in the moon’s embrace, while the wind hums a lullaby, the same song that once guided sailors home.

 Tourists loved this time of the year. They’d call it magic.

Perhaps it was the warm Libyan breeze that carried spices and red sand. Maybe, it was the legends of mighty gods, their tales scattered across the sea.

 But truth be told, if Mamma Mia enchanted them once, it was pita gyro that won their hearts for good.

 They must have fallen under Kalypso’s spell, or possibly nibbled on the lotus fruit, to believe this island was truly magical.

 The locals, though, knew better.

 They felt it—whatever it was.

 Like that uneasy twinge in your gut when something’s just a little too strange.

 That’s why no local ever went near the Moon Cove after dusk.

Y/N knew better — of course she did. But she had just finished her shift and, tired as she was, the pornstar martinis weren’t really helping, per se.

 She’d been bored out of her fucking mind all summer, wishing on some unlucky star for the days to hurry up so she could return to her beloved uni town and finally escape this forsaken island. If it weren’t for the fact that her parents needed help at the restaurant—and one sibling had to keep Grandpa Nick’s bookstore running for the summer — she would’ve been gone weeks ago. Take a wild guess who got stuck in the shop with  broken AC unit and shelves coated in dust.

 A fan and a paycheck were all she had left. Quite literally, since she was also broke.

 Working a summer job that was nothing more than family business was supposed to be a blessing. It shouldn’t have been that deep. She should’ve moved on by now, healed—or at least tried to—and accept the fact that some things aren’t meant to be.

 A summer ago, she’d been crushed at the thought of leaving. She didn’t even mind that her brother snagged the night shifts while she got stuck opening the store, not after nights of getting repeatedly hammered on Vodka Red Bulls and chocolate tequila shots with her best friends.

Actually, she did mind because Alex was supposed to pick up the slack this year and cover a few shifts now and then. But he had supposedly gotten a girlfriend and was out there chasing love. Allegedly.

 The reality was that summer was almost gone, and with it had gone the people who once made the place she grew up feel alive. Gone were the nights she spent wasted, dancing to Raye’s Escapism with magnetic strangers, running on adrenaline and free shots. Gone were the road trips around the island searching for golden sand, seashells, and natural pools on rocky edges.

 All that was left was an empty void she was desperately filling with work and her third rewatch of The Vampire Diaries.

 Not tonight, however. Tonight she was supposed to be on a date. Maybe “date” was too serious for what it actually was. Summer fling evaluation was probably closer to the truth.

 The sun was setting as she checked the shelves for the next book and supply order she needed to place, when the soft chime of crystals and shells colliding as the door opened made her pause.

 In walked a blond man —tall, handsome. His eyes were cat-shaped, a crystalline blue as sharp as Alaskan waters, and his teeth flashed pearly white when he smiled. Y/N was used to encountering arrestingly beautiful people now and then, but maybe it was the genuine way he smiled at her that made her stare.

 She put on her best work smile to help him, praying to the heavens her cheeks weren’t betraying her by burning red under the weight of his steady eye contact. He got what he needed, and while she rang up his things, he asked if she was single.

 And now here she was—drinking pornstar martinis with Koen (she prayed that was actually his name—because asking again would be mortifying), at a beachside bar called Lava.

It was actually, her first time here. She and her former friends used to be regulars at Kalua Bar near the island’s Chora, but tonight she wasn’t in the mood for judging eyes and listening ears. She wasn’t hiding, exactly, but she didn’t want to be seen either.

 She was supposed to be having fun with her first promising flirtation of the summer. She was definitely not supposed to be overthinking her entire life while Koen—the hottest distraction she’d had in months—kept talking. Right ?

“I think we should probably go see it, ja? I’ve never been to The Moon Cove under a full moon before”

 His eyes bore into hers, intense and unflinching, curiosity and a pleading smile spreading across his well-cut face. His long legs had reached out to touch hers under the table, lingering there, almost tangled. His touch was comforting, his gaze compelling.

She was deprived of romance in a long time, but that wasn’t really what had her thinking about it. If she wanted to get laid that badly, she would have opened Tinder again. But hookups weren’t worth the trauma and disappointment the lonely bachelors out there tended to offer.

Y/N knew better than to hang around the Moon Cave at night. Locals warned of a curse as old as the island and of nymphs who didn’t like to be disturbed on a full moon. Yet, as her dad had explained when she was younger, the cave’s waters were six meters deep, and the only way out if someone accidentally fell from the opening was to swim through the tunnel to the open sea.

 On nights like tonight, the tide was the bigger threat. An uncontrolled force, it could rise from its calm slumber and smash any unfortunate soul against the cave’s rocky pillars . The warnings weren’t for nothing: five years ago, a local tour guide had found a body in the cave. It took time for the police and medical examiner to identify the person. As it turned out, it was Sandra’s father—a mystery even to this day, how a skilled fisherman, who was supposed to be fishing on the southern coast for tuna, ended up inside the Moon Cave with no boat in sight.

“I don’t know, it’s dangerous at night. People have died there” Y/N internally cringed with her heavy accent. She was desperately trying to find a kind way to decline his offer without ruining the vibe. She cursed herself for bringing up the damn cave in the first place.

“C’mon, cutie—do you really think I’d let you die on me now? We’ll just look around, enjoy the stars.” Koen leaned in, closing the space between them. His hands engulfed hers, thumb sketching lazy circles across her fingertips. The touch was maddeningly gentle—soothing and setting her on fire all at once.

“My dad and I have climbed mountains and camped in the woods in Switzerland, with snow and cold. A cave is nothing that would make me worry.” He cupped her face with his right hand, tilting her chin gently, holding her gaze with the kind of patience that felt more like a dare.

She’d never traveled abroad before, never experienced anything close to the stories Koen dropped so casually. The ache for adventure tugged at her chest—a sharp craving for adrenaline, for proof she was still alive. Maybe Koen saw it in her eyes, that restless hunger, and that’s why he said—

 “Loosen the reins a little—see where it takes you, pretty thing”

 Y/N was in turmoil, she knew it was reckless and foolish. But she was already lost, really, the second she wanted to know what adrenaline might carve into her veins.

“Okay, fine, but this is so gonna kill me” she breathed, a thin thread of regret already curling in her chest. Still, tonight felt like a chance to step outside her comfort zone, if only by a little.

“Relax, menace. Worst case, I’ll fish you out” He winked, then, sly as a cat, lifted his hand for the check.

The climb up the rocky hill on the southern shore left her dizzy with exhilaration. Salt and wild thyme rode the breeze, waves whispered softly against the rocks, gulls calling out like they were in on some secret she wasn’t.

It was peaceful, and yet utterly surreal. The sky stretched dark and clear, eerie in its quiet, mysterious way. The moon hung impossibly close, bright and insistent, reflecting on the glassy indigo waters below, leaving a trail of starlight that seemed to brush against the waves like a lover’s whisper.

 They didn’t speak as they climbed the hill, and Y/N was grateful. She knew, instinctively, that this moment would engrave itself into her memory. She didn’t know why yet, but she could feel it: a soft melancholy waltzing with freedom and the thrill of the unknown. The kind of melancholy threaded with awareness and fragile beauty—the ache of moments she hadn’t lived yet but somehow already knew.

 She breathed deeply, hungrily, tasting the pulse of life coursing through her veins, wistful and alive. Koen’s playlist drifted around them, from Softcore by The Neighbourhood to Syrena by Kiki Rockwell, carrying them to the top of the rocky outcrop, where they stopped to marvel at the view.

“Well, would you look at that—the Moon Cave, in all its eerie, glowy, ‘don’t-fall-in’ glory.” With a dramatic flourish, she spread her arms to showcase the massive cliffside chasm, as if announcing the grand opening of the world’s most terrifying hole.

A deep chuckle rumbled out of him.

“Oh, cracking jokes now? Didn’t know you had the energy for both survival and comedy. Adorable.”

His accent was soft, something Northern European—Netherlands maybe. Y/N had already forgotten. But his eyes caught hers with a spark that felt like a provocation, daring her to keep up. He set down the crinkling plastic bag from the convenience store—two canned mojitos and a couple palomas—on a flat rock a few feet from the cave’s mouth.

 “I know, it stings a little… realizing I’m the funny one here.”

Her smile tilted sly, as she stepped closer, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

Koen smirked, leaning in just a little closer now. Their feet nearly touched, and the buzz between them sharpened into something electric. He looked down at her with that infuriating, permanent smirk she was dying to wipe off his face, arms folded across his broad chest.

 “Touché. I’ll let it slide… this once.”

He held out a hand for her to follow him closer. Together they leaned over the opening in the stone. The net the locals had strung across the hole sagged, its edges frayed from years of salt and sand damage. Through the tear, water shimmered in shades of black and indigo under the moonlight. The waves were softly brushing the cave’s teeth of stone, slowly carving it sharper with every tide. It wasn’t just beautiful—it was magnetic, like the place carried a gravity of its own. Deep, dangerous, and still somehow enchanting.Too deep.

Y/N fished out her phone to capture the moment. For once, she was glad she’d gave it a go. The fear had ebbed away. The scenery still hummed with that raw, dangerous edge, but now it felt more breathtaking than threatening. It made her wonder how many other secret gifts the world had been hiding, how many small mercies Mother Nature scattered across the earth.

  “So… any folklore about this place? Gotta know if it’s living up to the hype.”

He asked, crouching a little for a better look as he flicked on his phone flashlight. The beam caught the golden shimmer of the cave’s rocky walls, spilling into the mix of deep blues and turquoise water below, where small ribbons of pearly sea foam clung to the edges like secrets.

 “Some of the older local women used to tell us, back when we were kids, that this was the swimming pool of Nereids—sea nymphs, daughters of the sea-god Nereus. The younger ones loved to swim here under the full moon, and if an innocent soul happened to drown while the nymphs were playing, they would take pity on them and beg their father to save them. In return, it was said they would become half human-half fish, their soul forever be bound to the sea. I guess it’s a mix of folklore and mythology. I haven’t really fact-checked any of this”

“So… like mermaids? Or sirens?”

“I don’t really know the difference, but if I spot one, I’ll be sure to tell them you asked.”

“Ha. Yeah, hilarious, you smartass.”

Y/N took a few steps back, flashlight in hand, carefully avoiding the suspiciously leaning rocks before settling near where they’d left their things. Koen followed, fishing a mojito from the bag and cracking it open, droplets sliding down his Adam’s apple in a way that was dangerously distracting. She queued up their previous playlist softly and pulled out her paloma, twirling the can’s pull tab, lifting it up and down and softly mumbling numbers under her breath.

“What are you doing now cutie?”

The pull tab popped free from the can with a sharp clang. She raised her index finger to her lips to shush him. Ten. She ran through the alphabet in her mind and landed on J. Her can ritual was never wrong—coincidence or not. A J was about to show up in her life.

“So… what was with the can abuse just now? You gonna tell me or not?”

 “You count numbers, follow a letter, and eventually someone with that initial will appear—cross your path, in ways you can’t predict.”

“Was your letter K, by any chance?”

She let out a soft chuckle.

“No. Fate’s warning me that you’re a summer Casanova, probably—here for a good time, not a long one.” She bumped him with her shoulder, and he laughed. She took a swig of her drink, letting it mingle with the lingering sweetness of the previous martinis, creating the perfect symphony of a slow, pleasant buzz. He didn’t deny it.

Koen smiled and pulled her onto his lap, one hand resting at her waist. Her cheeks flared instantly, and her playful grin disappeared. He noticed her shyness and decided to push a little further, leaning in to brush the tip of his nose against her ear, just to whisper.

 “Go ahead, be snarky… you shy little thing.”

Y/N looked away, pretending to search for her lighter and cigarettes, trying—futilely—to hide her burning ears. This man was a very smooth talker. He was way too smooth with his words for it not to be rehearsed—like the kind of charm you only got from breaking hearts for sport.

 She balanced her unlit cigarette between her lips, flicking her dark red, bedazzled lighter to life. She took a deep drag, letting the smoke cloud her lungs—giving her future self lung cancer—and exhaled. Along with the smoke went the illusion of her worries, flying away  and leaving her mind at ease for just a moment. The mix of nicotine and alcohol were crafting a glorious buzz through her head, and with newfound confidence, she held the lit cigarette toward Koen, offering a take. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, lifting it to his lips and inhaling. It shouldn’t have been this seductive—but it was.

He caught her gaze and matched it, and just like that, their lips collided in a messy, urgent kiss. His hands stayed respectful, unsure. It made her like him more. Y/N hadn’t felt this kind of high in months—not just the alcohol, but that weightless thrill that whispered maybe this night meant something, just because it would end. She felt him draw her closer onto his lap, aligning her core with his growing bulge. He deepened the kiss, tongue sliding hot and wet against hers. He tasted like lime, mint and tobacco. He traced the tip of her tongue with his and heat curled low in her stomach. She was so turned on, so ready…only for his tongue to start doing weird shit in her mouth, and her mood dying faster than Katniss volunteering as tribute.

Their lips separated, and Y/N pressed a quick peck to his slightly parted mouth, partly because she felt guilty for dousing the fire of their kiss just moments ago. Whatever had broken the rhythm between them, Koen let it slide. No questions, no comments. They talked for a while. Conversation drifted easy between them, the night wrapping close while they stayed in each other’s arms.

“So, be honest—do you think the Moon Cave was carved out by nature… or by aliens who got bored after finishing the pyramids?” She tilted her head back, resting it lightly on his shoulder.

“Bold of you to assume aliens would waste their time on limestone when they could be building Wi-Fi that actually works on this island.” Her back tingled softly at the sound of his voice, and she laughed—because it was true. The Wi-Fi was lagging, failing to connect in most parts of the island

“For real though, tell me you don’t get X-Files vibes from this place. Like, if a UFO landed right now, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

“Cool, you’re Mulder then. Which makes me… the hot skeptic?”

“Just skeptic. No hot title necessary.”

A chilling stir of the night shifted the mood. A nipping whisper of wind reminded them to sober up, brush themselves off, and make their way down the cliff. The sky darkened as clouds swallowed the moon, snuffing out its light and casting an eerie shadow over everything.

It wasn’t the romantic encounters of the night she would carry home like a secret teenage kiss. It was the nostalgia of feeling alive, of experiencing moments that stained her soul with sound, color, and texture. After so long, she had almost forgotten the void that clung to her like a leech—the sadness and betrayal that had rooted themselves in the place she had grown to love. She felt homesick for a home she was already living in. A gut-wrenching nostalgia for the memories, the people, the places that had made it home.

She reached to check the time… and realized her phone wasn’t there. Fantastic. Truly, how does one manage to leave a phone behind like a responsible adult?

“Shit” she mattered halfway down the hill, patting her shorts.

”My phone. Koen I need to go back”

“Want me to come?” He tilted his head to the side, flashlight in hand, lighting the way. He asked genuinely, but she could tell he was tired. If Koen had been an old friend, she would have asked him to tag along so she wouldn’t be scared alone in the pitch darkness. But Koen was someone she’d just met—a stranger, really—and she wasn’t going to make him do that just because of her mistake.

“Nah. Go on, we are already half way through. Its late, I’ll just grab it.”

He kissed her again—softly, a little hesitant, as if testing the water—and then slipped back into the shadows. She watched him disappear into the darkness.

Y/N climbed back up the cliff, cursing sweet profanities under her breath, her only guide the flicker of her bedazzled lighter. She stayed mindful of her surroundings and each precarious step. The spot they had hung out in earlier was now swallowed by darkness, the edge of the cliff blurring into the horizon of the open sea. The glow barely cut through the dark, but it was enough to spot the outline of her phone case—blue, with a stupid holographic cartoon cat sticker that caught the flame in flashes of red and green.

 “There you are, asshole” she mattered, reaching forward.

Her foot slipped. She made a few unsteady steps, trying to balance herself on slippery, unpredictable rocks with no vision of her steps whatsoever, in the pitch-black of the night.

She fell—face-fist. Or, more accurately, face-planting onto the safety net spanning the Moon Cave’s opening. The net groaned under her weight, gravity tugging like a fish caught in its weave.  She was having a panic attack the moment she realized what was holding her from death itself.

Overthinking a million possibilities of screwing it up, Y/N anchored herself on the ropes trying to inch toward the edge and climb back up. She moved cautiously, dragging her torso forward while clutching the rope with trembling fingers. Dragging  her body slowly closer to the edge of the chasm. Her anxiety shot through the roof, heart hammering in her ears, tears of panic prickling her eyes. As she neared the edge, she prayed the sunburnt ropes would hold just a little bit longer.

Except tonight was a full moon, and Y/N really knew better than to tempt it.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. After all, no local ever went near the Moon Cave after dusk.

The safety net groaned violently, shuddering under her weight, and then it gave way completely. Air ripped past her as gravity claimed her, every heartbeat hammering in her ears, every second stretching into an eternity

She fell.

No time to scream. No time to pray to the gods above. Just air—then cold. A slap of impact across her entire body as she was swallowed underwater, dragged deep into the abyss. Her mouth filled with salt and panic. She kicked, she thrashed, remembered she knew how to swim…remembered it far too late.

The tide is an uncontrolled force, it could rise from its calm slumber and smash any unfortunate soul against the cave’s rocky pillars.

Y/N burst to the surface, lungs burning for air, nearly drowning in the process. She fought against the current, slammed relentlessly against the jagged rocks of the cave. Already struggling , she was barely staying afloat, coughing up bitter salt water that stung her throat. Another brutal collision sent her head spinning, dizziness threatening to pull her under again.

Something brushed her leg, and her heart skipped a beat.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as terror took over. She tried to make out what was moving around her, but the black water pressed in from all sides. Her vision blurred, tiny black spots creeping across her eyes as darkness, enveloped her slowly underwater.

Every inch of her skin felt pricked by a thousand needles, and her body grew numb and heavy.

She had given up. If death wanted her, let it have her. Let her lifeless body drift straight to Hades.

Darkness pressed in. Silence swallowed everything.

Then—colors .

 Flickers of electric blue. Hints of violet, streaks of molten gold, bursts of deep crimson. A light that could not be natural, weaving around her like pearls , curling through the water and wrapping her in the ocean’s secret heartbeat. She drifted, weightless, swallowed by colors that felt alive, humming with a rhythm older than the sea itself.

 Something else touched her arm. Not a fish. Not a current.

A song, maybe. Not heard, but felt . In her ribs . In her skull.

But those who love the sea

Oh, we live forever

You might drown my body,

Oh, never the soul

Drink my blood, break my bones

This grave will fit me better

Than your landlocked home

Tie me up, strike me down

To my dear Syrena

Damned my soul be bound

And then nothing.

∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿

Hoseok was a whole different story, on the other hand. Whereas Yoongi was remaining calm, cool, and collected around you, and newly cocky, Hoseok was watching you with a fire in his eyes that you couldn't quite seem to maintain contact with. You'd either end up a blushing mess and have to resort to hiding in the confines of Yoongi's chest, or you'd have to laugh your awkwardness off when he quirked the occasional eyebrow at you. Sure, Yoongi could have a cocky demeanor all he wanted- truly, he could, because it's making your heart soar- but Hoseok was the real force to be reckoned with. You could see that clear as day. 

"What are you looking at?" You ask Yoongi, facing out of his window with him, and saving yourself from Hobi's heated gaze. 

"The scenery. I love it here," he tells you, squeezing your hand in his. "It takes me back to being a kid and visiting some family throughout the holidays with my parents." 

"That's nice," you smile, leaning against his shoulder. "What about you, Kook?" You ask, watching the maknae through the slight crack of the headrest in his seat. 

"Huh?" He asks you, turning to look doe-eyed at you in the backseat, nestled between two sevenths of your soulmates. 

"What are you looking at?" You repeat the question. "You've been quiet since we got off the highway." 

"Ah, nothing important, Jagi. I usually just space out and think about stuff when we're in cars." 

"You do that outside of cars, too." Yoongi smiles, nudging Jungkook's seat with his foot. 

"I do not," Jungkook mumbles, but he does turn and look back out of the window. "I just like being with myself in my head, I guess." 

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," you shrug. "I actually think it's kind of cute." 

"Cute?" Jin giggles. “You’re cute, Jungkook-ah.” 

"Jungkook knows well enough that he's attractive," you retort. 

"I do?" Jungkook asks, eyeing you confusedly. 

"You're globally famous, Kookie." You roll your eyes affectionately. 

"Yeah?" 

"You've got to be kidding me..." You grumble. 

"What?" Kook asks, furrowing his brows. 

"You guys were on my ass earlier about acknowledging my beauty and accepting myself for who I am, all of that mumbo jumbo-" 

"Did you just use that figure of speech seriously?" Yoongi cackles. 

"All of that *mumbo jumbo*," you restate, eyeing Yoongi daringly, "but, you're really going to tell me right now that you don't understand how hot you are?" 

"From cute to hot," Jin chuckles, "I'm getting whiplash." 

"You all are." You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Well, I know that I am, sweetheart. I'm Worldwide Handsome and-" 

"Save it, Jin." Hobi rolls his eyes. "Everyone this side of the Atlantic knows that you find yourself devastatingly beautiful." 

"As they should!" Jin smiles. "It's not my fault that genetics had its way with me." 

"Of course it isn't," Yoongi snorts. "But YN said we're all hot, not just you." 

"Because you are," you sigh again. "You guys really do enjoy talking about me like I'm not here, don't you?" 

"We would never!" Jungkook shouts, looking positively shaken that you'd assume such a thing. 

"It's a joke, Kookie." You smile reassuringly at him. "I would never think you guys would try to talk about me behind my back on purpose. You're all too mature for that," you tell him, but then you catch Jin's eyes in the rearview mirror and mutter a cheeky, "Well, most of you are." 

The rest of the ride is purely comical, spent with the five of you giving each other the cheesiest pickup lines you'd ever heard- Jin wins this game, of course- and singing Korean hits out of tune. 

"Your rendition of Shoot Out was really something else, YN." Hobi chuckles as Jin finally pulls into the parking garage of your hotel. "We should consider getting you signed onto Big Hit." 

You swat playfully at his arm, happy that he lets you do so this time. You don't think your heart could handle another incident like the one this morning. Dominant Hoseok had awakened something within you that you didn't know whether you were ready for... Not that you wouldn't eventually want to open yourself up completely to him and have him return the favor tenfold. You just couldn't imagine getting that… sexually deviant with someone before you'd even truly gotten to know them. 

You can tell that Hoseok is a good guy; he's got a way about him that makes you want to smile and never stop, but you're still not completely acquainted with any of your seven soulmates. That thought alone scares you into a form of shock... You can't even begin to imagine the things that Hoseok could be into just from his suggestive comments here and there... Did he like to tie his partners up? Spank them? You could deal with spanking, you supposed. But the kinkiest sex you'd ever had had been the sex you had with Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook the night before. Not at all a loss because you had the time of your life, but that also meant you didn't have much experience to compare or equate Hobi's taste to. 

Regardless, you trusted Hoseok as much as you trusted any of your soulmates despite the short extent of your relationship with them. He'd never hurt you or put you out of your comfort zone. None of them would- that much you knew. And you'd never harm them either. You'd fight tooth and nail for the men you found yourself falling so deeply for now. You'd give anything for any single one of them to be happy.

"I'm going up with YN," Yoongi states simply as soon as the car is parked. 

"What?" You ask him, looking at him worriedly, "There could be paparazzi. My hotel is nowhere near as guarded as your guys' is." 

"But no one else knows that you're staying here, do they?" He asks you. 

"That's true, but-" 

"No buts," Yoongi tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "If Jin gets you all to himself tonight, I want to spend as much time as I possibly can with you now." 

"You could always ask me to stay the night with you, you know..." you point out to him, unbuckling and hopping out of the door that he holds open for you. 

"True, but that could strengthen our connection." He explains, leading you across the parking garage, "I don't want to make it any stronger than it already is..." He trails off. "You being gone is going to be hard, Jagiya, but we can all get through it. You know that, right? We love you so much already, we won't let anyone-" 

You silence him with a kiss, pulling him by the lapel of his baggy flannel against you. 

"You talk a lot," you explain when you part from him, and he shoots you a questioning glance. "And I like to kiss you," you add, pressing the elevator button. 

As if to spite your comment, Yoongi is silent in the elevator, and he pulls his mask up to cover the majority of his handsome face. He simply laces his fingers in yours and keeps you tethered to him via your hand. Despite his supposed want for you guys to remain as untethered as you possibly can, he sure does like to keep you close... not that you minded in the slightest. Min Yoongi could chain you to him for the rest of your life, and you'd probably be fine with it. Any of them could, honestly, but with Yoongi chained to you, you wouldn't have to worry about the pain of him being anywhere else. 

Once the elevator opens up to the main lobby, you make a beeline for the next, hoping not to lose Yoongi within the shuffle of people in the hotel lobby. Thankfully, his grip remains intact, and you're still connected to him by the time you reach the elevators. The next elevator, though more packed than the first, is far more comfortable, and you do thank the people around you silently for their presence- ushering Yoongi further into your figure. You can feel his hips resting lightly against yours, and his head's weight when he rests it against the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent while the elevator continuously stops and rises, and then stops again, letting people off and allowing more people to get on at what seems like a mercilessly slow pace. 

When you finally reach your floor and begin to lead Yoongi down the hallway, you realize that you've never been around Elle privately with any of the guys before. Would Yoongi like her? Would they get along? Would you have to play mediator or translator for either of them? 

Yoongi seems resolute in being kind, just as he'd always shown you, and Elle brightens when he shakes her hand and asks about her job, looking immersed in the English conversation that he allows her to lead him through. He understands everything she says for the most part, only needing your help translating once or twice. 

"I'm just going to be gone for another day, if that's fine? If you want me to stay, I'll stay. You don't have to worry about upsetting anyone, I promise. Just say the word, and I'm all yours." You tell her, zipping a spare bag the boys had lent you closed. 

"Don't worry about it, YN, really!" Elle laughs, "You go and have fun. We can catch up tomorrow night?" 

"Absolutely!" You smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

"Good! I've pieced together a few paragraphs for our article, so we only have to worry about the middle and the closing paragraphs for the first issue. I'm thinking a lot of our article is going to be pictures and bits of small interviews we can get throughout the shows." 

"Works for me," you smile. "I am so thankful for you, Elle." You tell her, pulling your friend into a rather tight hug. "You've really been so helpful on this trip. I swear if we get offered anything else, I'm all yours. I'll write the whole article if you want!" 

"Stop," she giggles, patting your back. "Seriously, just go have some fun. You don't need to worry about anything else right now. We can brainstorm tomorrow.” 

You send her another thankful smile over your shoulder as Yoongi escorts you out of the hotel suite, one of his beautifully sculpted hands on the small of your back. “She’s really nice,” he tells you, watching you double-check that the door locks behind you. 

“She is,” you agree, matching his stride as you leave the hotel behind you. 

You’re not exactly shocked when you get back to Seokjin’s car and find that Jungkook has either ordered or convinced Hoseok to change seats with him. Despite your love for the apple-cheeked hyung, you’re thankful you don’t have to sit in such close proximity with him for the remaining duration of the car ride. You don’t think your heart could handle the pounding Hoseok elicited from it. Jungkook is easier to maintain your cool around; he still has an innocent lightness to him that has you feeling as though you have some sort of upper hand, despite what he’d shown you the night before.  

“So,” you start, leaning into Jungkook’s chest while you face Jin in the driver’s seat, “what do you have in store for me tonight, Mr. Kim?” 

Jungkook giggles against you, earning a lighthearted jab on the side. 

“I was thinking about watching a movie, but we could also play video games! I’ve been playing Animal Crossing a lot lately.” 

“Either works for me!” You smile, “Can we make a pillow fort?” 

“A pillow fort? That actually sounds really fun,” Jin smiles. 

“I might have to join if there’s a pillow fort involved…” Jungkook chuckles, “I haven’t been in one since I was a kid.” 

“Bring your own blankets so we can make one big enough, and you’re more than welcome if YN is okay with it.” 

“I am,” you answer, snuggling further into the broadness of Jungkook’s chest. “It’s more than okay with me, actually.” 

You see- when you’d said that, you were under the impression that there would be *three* of you crammed under a makeshift pillow fort in Jin’s room. Not all *eight* of you. They’d all simply poured in, one after the other, blankets strewn behind them and pillows in hand- and you’d reminded Jin that they were to be your pillow fort guests, therefore you were required to show them hospitality and give them guest rights. 

It’s a mess, in the end. Food and drinks are spilled on duvets, Taehyung has somehow accidentally elbowed Jimin in the eye, and Yoongi ends up grumpily chastising everyone because he’s tired and wants to sleep. 

“Alright,” Jin shouts, over the commotion of Taehyung trying to apologize to Jimin for the fortieth time, “everyone, to bed.” 

“What about me?” Jimin pouts. 

“You’re going to bed, too. Kookie and Tae said you could bunk with them tonight, Jimin-ah.” 

“Taehyung nearly took my eye out 20 minutes ago, and now you’re sending me to him, hyung? Don’t you care at all about your soulmate?” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Jimin,” Jungkook giggles, “I’ll protect you from Taehyung-ah.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes and huffs, “Alright, but if I come back bruised and broken, you’re to blame,” he points at Jin. 

Jin sighs, watching exasperatedly as the throng of boys file out of his bedroom, trailing soiled blankets and pillows behind them. 

“They’re exhausting…” Jin whines, collapsing onto his bed. You giggle, earning a slight grimace from him, but lie next to him and rest your head against his shoulder. 

“It was fun, you have to admit.” 

“Never,” Jin gasps. 

“Admit it,” you pout, nudging his side. 

“It was alright, I suppose.” He shrugs, “It was kind of fun watching Hoseok-ah wrestle Namjoon to the floor over a fortune cookie.” 

“He didn’t want him to swallow the fortune again? Whatever that means?” 

“I’ll show you the video in the morning. Let’s just say Namjoon is quite an airhead.” 

You laugh a bit at that, unable to imagine Namjoon as anything but intellectual and put-together. 

“You’re cute,” Jin mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“I said, you’re cute. It’s a compliment. You’re supposed to say thank you,” he smirks. 

“Thank you- but, why?” 

“Why, what? Can’t I compliment my new soulmate in the comfort of my own home? Or is that against the guest etiquette you so kindly guided me on earlier?” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, burrowing your blushing face into his hoodie. 

“Now that *surely* goes against guest-manners. *Tsk.* We’re going to have to find a suitable punishment for that offense.” 

You freeze, heart beating a little faster inside your chest. “What kind of punishment?” 

“For telling your host to shut up?” Jin taps his chin thoughtfully, feigning a deep concentration whilst you struggle internally, bodily awareness heightening in anticipation. “A kiss would do, but you’d already asked for one earlier… We’ll have to figure something else out.” 

You bite at your lower lip, suck in a harsh breath when he glances down at you, pupils slightly dilated, and his cheeks pinkened like yours surely are. He’s beautiful, all tired and pouty looking- makes your heart flip and rise into your throat. Makes you shiver a bit just from his gaze alone. 

“Would you like that kiss?” Jin asks, voice a bit husky. 

“Mmm,” you murmur, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue. 

“Perhaps the punishment could be denying you the kiss,” he shrugs. 

You pout at him, furrow your eyebrows, and watch him stare aimlessly at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, that could be the punishment,” he whispers, “but I’m feeling greedy tonight.” 

You watch him with bated breath, watch the way he smirks at his own assessment and looks down at you with purpose. And the energy between the two of you is static again- has every hair on your arms standing straight up whilst goosebumps rise. 

It’s an easy swoop for him, given his height, to catch your lips in his. They’re thicker than you imagined, pillowy and warm… and sweet. There’s a tinge of peach chapstick that you chase with a flick of your tongue, already desperate for more of Jin. And he gives you more- lets you run your tongue along his, glide over his teeth, flick the roof of his mouth playfully. 

But you still want more, and it has you swinging your leg to rest against the other side of him so you’re straddling him on the bed- trapping him underneath you and resting against his chest so you can taste him deeper than before. 

It’s a good sensation, feels nice to have the sturdy muscle of Jin underneath you and tethering you to him. 

Feels so nice that you don’t hear the ding of your phone on the nightstand- feels so nice that you don’t see the SOS text from Elle brighten up your screen. 

You’re breathless when you and Jin finally separate from each other- your chest heaving from the excitement built and exertion spent. From looking at him, Seokjin is in the same state. His hair is disheveled, his cheeks are tinged with a deep blush, and his lips are slightly swollen. 

Whether it’s the soft and affectionate gaze he openly watches you with or the fact that you’d just spent close to an hour kissing each other on his bed like hormonal teenagers, you don’t know. You just feel the embarrassment rise within you and can’t stop yourself from hiding your face in one of his many silken blankets. 

“I think we’re past you hiding from me under the covers, yeah?” He asks you, poking his head underneath your makeshift protective wall. 

You giggle but make no move to come out of the blanket, opting instead to retreat further into the fabric. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jin chuckles, gripping onto your waist and pulling you back towards him. And despite your (rather half-assed) attempts at breaking free from his clutch, you find yourself back against him atop the mattress. The blanket you’d used as a shield moments prior is clear across the room from the scuffle. 

“Uncalled for,” you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck when he laughs deeper. 

“What was uncalled for was you hiding from me,” he smiles, “are you really so afraid of me?” 

It’s a tease- as were most things Jin threw your way. He pinches your sides gently when you roll your eyes at him. 

It’s easy enough to find a movie you’re both happy with playing as background noise; the excited gasps you’d both let out when Howl’s Moving Castle popped up on the Smart TV in his room pretty much had the film picked without even having to ask. You grow comfortable around Jin, find yourself laughing with him more than you’d expected, and grow happy when he starts to giggle at the lame jokes you send his way. 

When you’re practically splayed across his lap- the end titles of Howl’s on the TV and a spare Nintendo Switch in your hands that Jin had decidedly given to you, and Animal Crossing music echoing throughout the room- you find yourself reaching absentmindedly for his wrist. The question remains unasked as he simply lets you analyze the ink adorning his skin. 

You have a lot of thoughts, and admittedly even more questions. Not just for Seokjin, and not even for BTS. You have an abundance of questions to ask of no human beings, but of the universe as a whole. There’s so much uncertainty, so much curiosity and bewilderment running rampant in your mind- it nearly hurts. But Jin lets you sit in silence, lets you ponder over the brand on his skin to your mind’s content. 

“I think,” you start, tracing over the letters with your pointer finger, “I think that I’m more confused than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” The admission is heavy, but it’s true. There’s so much uncertainty running through your head that you half suspect you’re being driven insane. “But it’s weird because there’s a lot of clarity that’s balancing it out. Does that make sense?” 

“Yes,” he nods, flips your wrist over so that he can take his turn looking at your marks. “I felt the same way when I met the others… It’s a lot to take in all at once. You’re not having any second thoughts, are you?” 

“No, not second thoughts. I’m just concerned. I feel like so much is happening so fast… I’m doing things I wouldn’t typically do.” You trail off, let Jin put the pieces together. 

“Is this about sex?” 

You bite your inner cheek, scrunch your nose as you nod. 

“It’s definitely a lot,” he nods, “it would be for anybody. Is there anything about it, in particular, that’s bothering you?” 

“It’s just all happening so fast. I’d usually wait a few weeks to sleep with anyone…” 

“I won’t say it’s normal because there are 8 of us, and that already disqualifies us from anything close to normalcy. I don’t think you should beat yourself up about it, though. There’s science that’s shown that it’s incredibly difficult to abstain from sex with your soulmate.” He shrugs slightly, “not that it’s not possible. Some people have waited until marriage to be physical with their soulmates. I don’t know, I think it’s completely understandable that you’d be physical with us.” 

You take your hand from his so you can grab his once more, hold it in your grasp. 

“You have six soulmates and a twin-flame, Y/N. That’s a lot for your brain and hormones to process. It’s okay to be with us in any way you want. If that’s sexual, that’s okay. No one can judge you for that. You’re human.” 

“Thank you, Jin,” you smile crookedly, feel the warmth in your chest spread from his reassurance and gentle words. “I really appreciate that.”

“No problem,” he grins back. 

“I do have a question, though.” 

“I hope to have an answer.” 

You brace yourself- want to ask your question in the politest way possible. 

“Why haven’t you- erm. Why haven’t you been sexual with me?” 

The blush you feel rising is monstrous, makes you want to bury your face in the floor for hundreds of years to come. 

“Oh- I, I don’t really know.” You watch him rub at the back of his neck nervously, watch the way the tips of his ears pinken alongside his cheeks. “I think I enjoy exercising self-control over myself…” 

You don’t push the topic, just let the answer rest in the air around you. The last thing you want is to make Seokjin uncomfortable after he’s been nothing less than outstanding and kind to you. 

“Trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to. I’ve got no problems regarding that… I just like my firsts with someone to be special. Perfect. You know?” 

“That’s understandable,” you nod. “Sorry if that seemed a little weird.”

“It’s fine. It’s something we should discuss.” 

You curl up beside him, melt against his side as he presses play on My Neighbor Totoro. 

You can’t remember falling asleep, but you can tell you’ve overslept when your eyes flutter open. The curtains are still closed across the room, but the light that spills through them is unmistakably light from the afternoon sun. Jin isn’t next to you in bed, not cuddled up to you like Jimin had been the morning before. It feels like you’ve finally become connected to your body since arriving in South Korea. The jet lag, muscles exhausted from both concerts and sex, everything. It’s all caught up to you in one fell swoop. 

You want to call out for Jin, but you can hear raised voices coming from the living room area of the suite. You don’t know if it’s the loud voices or the constant vibrating of your phone that Jin must have plugged in for you on the dresser, but something feels off. Feels like there’s an electric current underneath a layer of your skin, sending you flickers of a warning of something to come. 

“Okay, okay,” you grumble, swinging your legs over the side of the bed so you can retrieve your loud device. It takes you a few times before you successfully unlock your phone, and a few blinks to remove the sleepy haze from your vision so you can properly see the messages flooding your phone. 

It’s shocking, the way that time seems to cease existing when you read a few of the notifications that have popped up on your feed. 

You think you’re in a nightmare, actually feel the blood drain from your face as you scroll panicked through the notifications. There are thousands. And hundreds more are pouring in each time you refresh your Twitter feed. 

You click the article that’s led to the uproar, can feel your blood chill in your veins. There’s already been 100k shares on a multitude of social media platforms, as well as 30k comments. It’s only been up for 2 hours. 

You have to ignore 5 calls that have been added to the 25 Elle had made over the past 4 hours that you’ve been asleep, just to read the title of the article and the first paragraph that follows for the fiftieth time. 

BTS’ mysterious 8th member revealed in an exclusive interview with a former employee of secondary News Source.

“It was unexpected, and not something I’d thought much of since learning about the marks,” Andrew Klein, a former employee of M-Buzz and the leaker for this story, tells us. M-Buzz is a local Manhattan tabloid that has been gaining traction in the reporting world as of late. Klein continues, “Once she’d set off for South Korea to interview BTS, I’d looked into them more, didn’t expect much. I just wanted to get my job back. But then I saw the letters in their names and their birthdates… It all just connected. I couldn’t imagine Y/N being romantically involved with any of them, but it’s pretty obvious now that she is. Those pictures are proof enough.” 

The pictures in question, secured by an anonymous source in South Korea, showcase M-Buzz reporter, Y/N L/N, being escorted into her hotel by Min Yoongi, a member of the globally recognized K-pop group, BTS. The duo can be seen in a few of the photos holding hands, hugging, and sharing a kiss in the parking garage of said hotel. As of now, we’ve reached out to Big Hit Entertainment for a statement, as well as the management at M-Buzz. We’ve received no response, but we will keep this article updated as more information is revealed. 

There’s a myriad of thoughts running through your brain simultaneously, sending you into a tailspin of confusion and hurt. The article- you almost can’t bring yourself to think about it again- but the article had pictures. Pictures of you and Yoongi in the parkade of your hotel, hand in hand, kissing each other… What else did they have? How did they get those in the first place? You were all careful. Always made sure to check that your surroundings were clear of paparazzi and the general public. 

How could you be so careless, even if only for a second? 

The shame settles heavily on your conscience. Your soulmates would be facing limitless ridicule and would possibly be ostracized by the public, media, and even possibly their fans. Your heart aches sharply in your chest just from the thought- how could you live with yourself if you were the root cause of their downfall? 

First things first, you had to leave the apartment. Or at least leave Jin’s room. Claustrophobia from panic was starting to build within you, making your breath catch unevenly in your chest. Tossing your phone onto Jin’s bed, not wanting to see anything else right now- especially not the personal attacks flooding your Twitter and other social media- you exit his room. 

The argument you had heard in the living room was still in full bloom, but what surprises you is that no one seems to be pointing fingers at you. Wasn’t this all your doing? 

“We’re not going to catapult her into interviews, no,” Namjoon states firmly. You can’t tell who he’s speaking to, can’t see them from your spot in the hallway, but you know he is upset. You can hear it in the way he filled his last word with finality. 

“We can’t just ignore the media, not with the accusations being made. Speculation of a concubine? That Y/N paid to be with you all physically? Or, and this is my personal favorite, that her employers have dirt on us and that letting their employees purchase your bodies is part of their compensation for their silence? What do you reckon we do, Namjoon? The public doesn’t care that you have her initials on your arms.” 

This man, whoever he is, sounds like he comes from higher up in Big Hit Ent. A lawyer, maybe? Part of their legal team? 

“So you suggest we throw her to the wolves?” Jin spits, “That’s as good as having her sign her will.” 

“Listen,” Yoongi now, “I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re not going to allow the company to make any decisions regarding Y/N’s safety without first consulting us.” 

“We have to make some sort of statement.” 

“Not until we’re on the same page,” Namjoon states.

“Do you realize how much the company, the group, is losing in profit right now? How many emails we’ve received from people asking for refunds for the concerts? This is a big problem, you guys.” 

You furrow your brow, pull Jin’s blanket tightly against your frame. Better to make your presence known now, seeing as your autonomy was already being debated.

“Do I get a say?” 

It’s an honest question, and one you desperately want to be answered immediately. The room falls silent, the boys looking at you in concern, whereas the man standing at the forefront, a stranger to you, looked at you with irritation.

“No-” he starts.

“Of course you do,” Namjoon answers, interrupting the suit. “Sorry if we woke you.” 

“My phone nearly exploding from the notification overload woke me up. You guys are fine.” 

“We’re sorry, Y/N,” Yoongi tells you, pulling you into a hug. 

“You’re sorry?” 

He lets you out of his grasp, probably not quite understanding your confusion. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” you explain, “this whole mess is because of me.” 

“Could say that again,” the man snorts, but falls silent once Jimin sends him a death glare.

“And what did your legal team do to ensure ours and Y/N’s safety, Taeyang?” His voice is icy, shocking even his hyungs, “were you guys there to scan the garage?” Jimin waits not for an answer, refocusing on you, “We failed to protect you.” 

“No one could have known-” 

“We’ve dealt with reporters and paparazzi for years,” Jimin shakes his head, “no, this one’s on us.”

“All we can do now is damage control,” you shrug, “got any ideas?” Your question is directed at Taeyang, which seemingly surprises him, judging by the wide eyes he sends your way in response. 

“The agency has a few,” he answers once he’s regained his composure. “You could go to a public interview, and whether it’s televised or not is up to you. Or we could release a video to the public directly, which may seem more genuine- more personal.”

“Whatever it takes,” you answer, ignoring the sounds of protest erupting through seven sets of lips in the room. “We have to give them something,” you tell them, quieting them down, “they won’t stop until they have some sort of explanation.” 

You look back at Taeyang, almost appreciative of the indifference he regards you with, “Would doing both be better? Get you the desired results quicker?” 

“Definitely.” 

“Better get cameras and an interviewer ready.”

He nods but adds, “Reporters can be ruthless.” 

“I know, I am one.” 

Taeyang thanks you and assures you he’ll be in touch with you soon before he leaves, ignoring the glares that your soulmates are sending his way. 

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Taehyung asks, observing you with concern. 

“Yes.” You tell them, “We need to collectively agree on answers to questions and everything regarding our… situation.” 

“She’s right,” Jin nods, “they’re going to ask about our inter-relations as well since our reveal was so recent. They’re going to want to know who’s sleeping with whom, who we have, and haven’t been intimate with. They’re going to want to know the hows, wheres, when, and whys.”

“Who we’re screwing is no one’s business but our own,” Jimin guffaws. 

“We know that, Jimin,” Jin sighs, “but we’re public figures. While this isn’t exactly *ideal,* it is what we signed up for.”

“It’s not what Y/N signed up for,” Tae adds thoughtfully, “but she’s agreed to address the public. We have to respect that.”

“I’ll have to sort this out with my boss as well,” you tell them, “I don’t think they’ll be too enthused by my relations with you guys, even if they can’t be helped.”

“So, how do you want to do this?” Namjoon asks, looking warmly at you, “This is entirely up to you. You don’t have to do or say anything you don’t want to, and we’re on your clock. You choose when we do what.” 

“I’m going to go and call my boss and Elle first,” you tell them, “and then we can sit down and get everything straightened out, all of the facts and whatnot. After that, we’re going to have to deal with your friend Taeyang again, I’m sure.” 

“Do you want one of us there? When you’re on the phone?” Yoongi asks you, looking scared, though you can’t really place why.

“I can handle it,” you tell him, “just maybe have a cup of coffee waiting for me?” 

He nods, already set off towards the kitchen, while you disembark back to Jin’s room.

The hallway ahead of you is rather foreboding, not at all matching the feelings you had walking down it the night before when accompanying Jin to his room. You just miss the last ring of your cellphone as you re-enter his bedroom. 

Thankfully, Elle is as tenacious as ever, and your phone lights up once more only seconds later. 

“How much trouble are we in?” you ask her, phone pressed against your heated cheek. 

“Finally!” She shouts, loud enough for you to worry about your right eardrum, “I have been trying to reach you since last night! What the fuck is wrong with you, L/N?!” 

“I take it we’re in heaps of trouble, then…” You sigh. “Listen, I know I was stupid-”

“No, don’t do self-loathing, please. I don’t think my brain can take it right now,” Elle whines, “I don’t blame you-”

“Really,” you interrupt, hope bubbling inside of your chest. 

“Just because I don’t blame you doesn’t mean the public feels the same way,” she reasons, “there’s quite a bit of mess to clean up, and honestly? From the way Powell sounded on the phone last night, I’m not even sure you’ll be able to return to work anytime soon, at least not without security guards.” 

“Security guards?”

“The office has been packed with outside reporters all day, Y/N,” she huffs, “Cam told me it was difficult for our journalists to get inside this morning.” 

“Is it bad that I’m afraid to talk to Powell?” You ask.

“No. I’d be absolutely terrified,” Elle says, sounding a smidgen more anxious than you’d like, “but she did assure me that we could stay the duration of the tour-”

“She did?”

“BUT, you’re not to be in the audience at all. She said if you’re backstage, that’s fine, but you can’t be around the public right now. Not only would it be bad for M-Buzz, but it’d be damn risky for your own safety.” 

“Well, I’m set to release a statement for BigHit soon.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“There was a guy here this morning, really assertive and being shitty towards the guys. I can’t let them take all of the heat on this.” 

“They’re celebrities, Y/N, you’re an everyday woman from New York. They are more equipped to handle this than you are; besides, have you even thought about how pissed Powell will be? And it’s not just her; she has higher-ups that she has to report to. Your job is in jeopardy.”

“I don’t know what more I can tell you, Elle. This is something I have to do. I can deal with Powell and her bosses later, and on my own. I don’t want your job suffering because mine is a shit show right now.” 

“So, what’s the plan?” She asks, sighing heavily, “I can keep Powell on the burners for today, tell her you haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

“You keep working, you have my notebook still, right?” 

“Yep.”

“Good, use my notes if you need to. I’ll focus on all of the fallout, okay? I have my laptop here, so I can send you any files you need through our personal emails; M-Buzz won’t have access to those.” 

“Alright, is there anything else you need from our hotel? Clothes?”

“Nah, I can buy some if I need any. I don’t want anyone sniffing out where you are. The last concert here in Seoul is tomorrow night, so you should have new roofing after that. I’ll stick with the guys for now, and keep you updated daily.”

“Okay, please just stay safe, okay? It’s scary out there. Don’t go online for a few days. The saesangs are out in troves.” 

“I will, Elle. Thank you… for everything.” 

“Always. Talk later.” 

“Bye.” 

The room is deafeningly quiet after you hang up, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach at the revelations the phone call left you with. You’d expected your job to be in danger, sure, but you yourself? You weren’t quite banking on having to walk around with security guards for the rest of your time in South Korea, let alone back home in New York. 

You meet up with a lone Namjoon in the hallway, his dimple appearing when he half-grins at you reassuringly. 

“How are you holding up?” He asks. 

“I’ve been better,” you tell him, shrugging, “but I’m sure we can all push through this together.” 

“So optimistic,” he smiles. 

“Should I not be?” 

“No, it’s nice to see. Spirits have been pretty low today.” 

“Sorry about that,” you pout, “we were pretty careless, weren’t we?”

“I don’t think the word careless fits our situation,” he sighs, nose scrunching, “normal people can kiss their soulmates in public and it’s not a big deal. The only reason you’re going through this right now is because we’re well known.” 

“You mean famous,” you smile, nudging his shoulder. “I don’t blame you guys at all, Namjoon. I can only hope that you all don’t blame yourselves as well. I can’t imagine any of you would want me piling all of the guilt on my shoulders only.” 

He shakes his head in agreement with your statement, “We’re still sorry nonetheless.” 

“As am I,” you tell him, “let’s go meet up with the others, yeah? My coffee’s probably getting cold.” 

Yoongi has it waiting on the end table beside him when you and Namjoon enter the living quarters, brows furrowed as he scrolls through his phone. 

“Anything exciting?” 

He smiles at your question, shaking his head and gently tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “Just people being nosy, per usual.” 

“Ah, I see,” you nod, shoving him lightly. He takes the hint, scooting over so you have enough room to sidle into the loveseat with him, burrowing your face into his black hoodie. “Did I miss anything?” 

“Just me making your coffee and Jungkook trying to get everyone to smile.” 

You chuckle at that, happy that at least one person was keeping a happy demeanor despite the circumstances. 

“I’m surprised you weren’t setting up a PowerPoint,” Yoongi grumbles, smiling slyly at Namjoon, who sits across from the two of you on the sofa. 

“Yeah, I was just about to when Y/N interrupted me in the hallway,” Namjoon grins back, winking at you. 

“Whatever,” you sigh. 

“We do need to discuss stuff,” Jin states simply, leaning against the kitchen island. “Like we said before, we need to get everything out in the open before Y/N does her interviews.”

“Yeah, there’s quite a bit of our relationship,” Hoseok nods, waving his hands towards his group mates, “that you’re not aware of yet. We’re sure you have a list of questions to ask us regarding it anyway.” 

“You’re not wrong,” you nod, “I just don’t want to overstep.”

“You’re our soulmate,” Taehyung says, resting a large and warm palm on your shoulder from behind you, “there’s essentially nothing you can do to overstep any boundaries.” 

“He’s right,” Jungkook smiles, “you’re an equal part of this now. It’s only fair that we fill you in on everything that’s happened while you’ve been in America. And if you think that seems unfair, we can always ask you questions in return. It’ll be like truth or dare, but there’s only truths.” 

“That kind of defeats the purpose of the game, does it not?” Jimin smirks, “But I am with Jungkook on this. We’ve all got to open up to each other completely now that Y/N is here, though it’s especially for her sake, I’m sure there’s some stuff that we want to be more honest with each other about.” 

“We’ll be here for hours,” Taehyung notes. 

“It’ll be worth it,” Namjoon states. “This is a learning experience for all of us.” 

“The silver lining,” Jin nods. 

“Well, let’s get started then, yeah,” you announce, “I’ve got a question. For me. Not the interview.” 

“Go ahead,” Namjoon encourages you.

“Who… I mean, do you guys sleep with each other? Like, sexually? I’ve heard it mentioned here and there.” 

“You’re right to ask that, it only makes sense that we should start with something simple, obvious…” Seokjin nods, “the seven of us,” he motions towards his groupmates, “know most there is to know about each other already. But Y/N is new to our dynamic.” 

“I’ve been with everyone except Jungkook and Jin-hyung,” your twin-flame tells you, running his thumb along the back of your hand. Your position on the loveseat gave you a pretty good view of the room. 

Jungkook and Taehyung were strewn across either end of the large sofa, Hoseok in between them with his lean legs kicked up on the coffee table. Jin still stood in the kitchen, leaned against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee in his hands. Namjoon looked professional in the lounge chair at the forefront of the room, laptop closed atop his thighs. Jimin was standing near Namjoon until he sprawled unceremoniously across Taehyung’s lap.

“Body counts,” Jimin giggles. 

“That’s Jiminie’s way of confessing to being the slut of the group,” Taehyung chirps, laughing when Jungkook chokes on his strawberry milk.

“I’m a classy whore,” Jimin shrugs, nudging Taehyung’s thigh, “attention is nice.”

“Aish, that’s not very helpful, you two,” Jin groans, “Yoongi was on the right path. I haven’t been physically involved with any of the members,” he explains, looking into your eyes. 

“Why?” You ask honestly, curiosity piqued.

Jin shrugs, “My connection to them is emotional; I haven’t really felt a physical urge until you came along.” 

You blush at that, remembering the look Jin had given you after your demonstration the other night with the younger members of the group. 

“I’ve been with everyone save for Jin hyung,” Jimin explains.

“The same goes for me,” Namjoon adds, which honestly surprises you slightly. You hadn’t seen too much of Namjoon’s sensual side save for the other night. 

“I’ve been with Joon, Yoongi, and Jungkook,” Hobi tells you, and your brain whirls. Hoseok was so dominant, and the only person you’d felt could rival his dominance was Namjoon, his twin flame. You only wished that one day you could see that dynamic in action.

“Which means I’ve been with Yoongi, Kookie, and Jimin,” Tae smiles.

“And me with Tae, Jimin, and Joon.” Jungkook nods. 

“None of you feel left out or wanting?” You ask, “not that I’d expect anyone to feel that way.”

“We’ve been happy with our relationship thus far,” Namjoon answers you.

“Does my being added into the mix mess the dynamic up?” 

“It makes it more full, yes.” Namjoon nods, “But mess it up? No. We’ve been waiting for you for years, Y/N. There is no disappointment or frustration with you finally being here. If anything, it’s more exciting and feels complete finally. We just don’t know what boundaries you have with us.” 

You think on that for a moment, wondering to yourself if any existed for you where the seven men in front of you were involved. 

“There’s none,” you answer honestly. “There’s slight hesitancy,” you admit, “but that’s because I still don’t know how we’re going to make this work with me having to go back to New York after the tour. I know I want to be with all of you in every sense, but I also know we need to slow down and I need to try and remain rational.” 

“Everything has happened so fast,” you add. “I explained some of this to Jin last night before bed… but I’m usually not this committed. I’ll hook up with people, and it’s good for a little but I get scared of romance and commitment, and I run. This is all so new to me, and honestly? I’m scared.” 

Yoongi squeezes your hand gently, eyeing you concernedly. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise them, but you can feel the promise to yourself in your words as well, “I don’t want to go anywhere, but I can’t just get over those habits like nothing.” 

“We understand,” Jin nods, “we were scared at first, too.” 

“We’ll support you like you support us,” Namjoon says, “and if your mind ever changes and you need to take a break, we will honor that. We don’t decide for you, Y/N.” 

You smile at that, “thank you.” 

“What else do you want to know?” he asks.

“What do you think will change now that I am here?” 

“Everything,” Hoseok answers, “but also nothing. You were always here in some fashion, Y/N. We knew eventually we would either meet you or find some sort of closure in your absence, but you were always here with us. You’re a part of this relationship, you always have been. The only difference now that you’re actually here with us is that we get to be with you in all aspects. Sexually, romantically, physically… I could hold your hand now that you’re here. We can make you food and take you on trips and tours with us. You’ll be an important part of our lives now, but these are things we’ve been doing for a while. We just get to share them now with you.” 

“Hoseok is right,” Jin agrees, “though now we might need to add more shows in New York to our tours and plan more trips to Manhattan during our off days.” 

“I can be a great tour guide,” you smile. “This isn’t so hard,” you sigh, “I have a feeling the interviews in store for me are going to be more difficult…” 

“Probably,” Taehyung nods, “but you’ll have us cheering you on, Y/N. We are on your side. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with the public, you can share.” 

“They’re going to be fishing for information on you guys,” you tell them all, eyes scanning the room, “nothing you have told me in this room will be told to the reporters.” 

Jungkook smiles, “Reporters have a way of taking the worst scenario and running with it when they don’t get the information they want.” 

“Good thing I’ve been in the business for years,” you remind him. “I can handle this, you guys. I promise you I can.” 

“We know,” Jimin smiles. “We trust you.” 

The room is ridiculous; white paint nearly blinding, and the lack of windows and color leaves you feeling isolated from life as you know it. The only furniture in the room is placed starkly in the middle, two off-white lounge chairs with a small glass coffee table between them. You suppose it was an attempt at looking homey and welcoming, yet it feels anything but that as you take it all in. 

 Taeyang stands in the corner in a crisp suit, talking to multiple BigHit execs. The boys were not allowed in the room as distractions could have disastrous consequences during your filming, and your nerves were beginning to really take a toll on you. You wanted nothing more than the seven of them at your side, but you knew you would get through this interview with your head held high.

Taeyang looks your way as the finishing touches are made to your makeup by Chaeran, a tight-lipped smile adorning his features as he slowly strides over to you. “You’re ready?” It sounds more like a statement than a question.

“Yes.” You answer, standing up and flattening the black pencil skirt against your frame. The rose petal pink sweater is a bit much, but if Taeyang needed you to appear youthful and proper, youthful and proper you’d appear; what came out of your mouth, however, was completely up to you.

The reporter is a younger man, introduces himself to you as Haechul Ren, and the greetings and initial questions are off his tongue as soon as the camera clicks on and the director signals for him to begin. You settle further in the chair you’re sitting in, but keep your back straightened and your hands in your lap neatly.

“Good Morning, Seoul, and thank you for tuning in. I am your host, Haechul Ren, reporting on the latest news involving BTS, and I am here with L/N Y/N, a reporter from M-Buzz New York. Many of you have already seen the headlines circulating all news outlets this morning, but for those who haven’t, early this morning, it was revealed by a coworker of L/N Y/N that Miss L/N is, in fact, the eighth soulmate of the entirety of the global superstar group BTS. Thank you for being here with us this morning, Miss L/N, I can only imagine how difficult a day it’s been for you.” 

The compassion in his tone is clearly dramatized and leaves you wanting to be spiteful, but you swallow your pride and nod your head politely. “It has been a hectic one to be certain,” you answer kindly.

“The article released this morning, the very first one, have you seen it?” 

“I have,” you answer.

“Is it true?” 

“Which part exactly?” 

“Are you the eighth soulmate of BTS?” 

“Yes.” 

“How does that make you feel?” He asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you have a soulmate, Mr. Haechul?” 

“I do,” he replies dryly. 

“And how does that make you feel?”

“I suppose it makes me feel very lucky, but Miss L/N, I only have the one soulmate-”

“And I have seven,” you deadpan, “I suppose that makes me feel extremely lucky.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet on your face, and you can almost feel the irritation boiling from Ren next to you.

“How long have you known that all members of BTS are your soulmates?” He continues. 

“Less than two weeks,” you answer.

“Did you know they were your soulmates before the reveal of their marks during their concert?” 

“Yes.” 

“So then why were your initials and birthdate covered?” 

“For my comfort, but mostly for my protection,” you reply honestly. 

“Do you feel as though you need protecting, Miss L/N?”

“Have you seen the comments on the articles, Mr. Haechul?” 

He shakes his head no, “I figured. The comments, Mr. Haechul, are rather disgraceful. I have deactivated all of my social media as thousands of people are sending me messages, emails, friend requests, and threats. I’ve had multiple calls come through my personal phone from people who have found my number leaked through chat sites and blogs. To answer your question, no, I do not feel as though I need protection, but I see no issue in the members having covered my information on their wrists as they were only trying to shield me from the publicity I am currently receiving.” 

“Are you new to publicity? Does it frighten you?” 

“I suppose not,” you agree, “but let me ask you this, would you agree that people are dangerous, Mr. Haechul?” 

“I would agree that they can be,” he shrugs. 

“It is not the publicity that frightens me,” you explain, “I am a reporter, publicity is a huge part of my job. It is the relentlessness with which people are exhibiting to contact me that frightens me. It is people that frighten me.”

“You are the soulmate of prominent figures, Miss L/N.”

“And even prominent figures deserve privacy, Mr. Haechul.” You smile back, “If you were to wake one morning to find that pictures of yourself and your soulmate in a private encounter had gone viral and people whom you didn't know were attempting to reach out to them, would you feel safe? Would you expect your soulmate to feel safe?”

“I am not famous,” he argues, “your soulmates, Miss L/N, are famous.” 

“Are you saying that famous individuals are undeserving of the privacy you have? Why should private aspects of their relationships and livelihoods be broadcast for the world to see when we do not expect the same from our own relationships and lives? They are famous, yes, and with fame comes some loss of control over your personal life and what information the public has access to, but they are still people. They still deserve to live their private lives privately.”

“The public wants answers, Miss L/N,” Ren states firmly, and you watch Taeyang straighten his back in the chair he sits in across the room, “and you yourself are a reporter. You have interviewed groups before, and you have asked questions nearly identical to the ones I pose to you now. What makes you and your soulmates exempt?” 

“Nothing,” you answer, “I suppose I just know when to stop digging.” 

Taeyang’s eyebrows raise at that, and you begin to worry until he nods his head at you in approval. 

“Your relationship with the members,” Ren continues, “is it physical?” 

You level your gaze with him, “You’ve seen the photos.”

He grimaces, “And are the members physical with one another?” 

“I’ve seen them hug each other,” you snap, “is that answer satisfactory enough?” 

“The public is simply trying to understand the situation, Miss L/N,” he replies acidically. 

“Situation?” 

“Your predicament is unheard of, it’s shocking and unnatural.” 

“And what would you define as natural, Mr. Haechul? Two soulmates? Man and woman?” 

He grins wickedly, “Many would.” 

“This interview is over,” you announce, preparing to stand.

“Miss L/N, please, sit.” 

You look at the man across from you and grow angered at the grin plastered across his face at what you’d only assume the public would deem an ‘outburst,’ and take a deep breath before settling back into your seat.

“I am here to answer questions regarding me, Mr. Haechul. I will not divulge personal information regarding my soulmates simply because the public wants to hear the answers. If you have questions for me that are about me, ask them. I will answer them honestly.” 

He grips the arm of his chair a little harder at that, “as you wish.”

His first questions are simple, asking about the meaning behind your name, how many siblings you have, and what your childhood was like. 

“What do your parents make of your mark?” 

You blanch at that, “my mom only ever wanted me to be happy. We didn’t think I had one, let alone seven, honestly; we were even toying with the idea of my work being my soulmate. We were preparing for me to be alone or to settle for something casual. Not everyone finds their soulmate.” 

“And your father?” 

“Died while I was in high school,” you answer voidly, “next question.” 

“Do you have hobbies outside of reporting?” Ren asks, visibly shocked by the answer to his last inquiry. 

“Of course, we’re reporters, not robots. I enjoy music, especially when I was younger, and I read books when I have free time. I took up streaming my gameplay when I was in high school, but I haven’t kept up with it.” 

“Were you in relationships before meeting your soulmates?” 

“Yes, though none were serious.” 

“What’s the longest relationship you’ve been in?” 

“Two years,” you answer, ignoring the pang of hurt that rises in your heart at the memories. 

“How’d that end?” 

“Painfully,” you admit. 

“Do you plan on returning to New York after the tour is over?” 

“Yes.” 

Taeyang looks surprised at that, and you try not to focus too much on his expression, “I won’t be there for too long,” you add.

“Are you open to relocating to Seoul?” 

“I suppose so,” you nod, “that’s something I need to figure out with my soulmates. I don’t plan on making arrangements during our interview.” 

Haechul huffs, “We’re nearing the end now,” he tells you, and some of the tension in your shoulders eases.

He’s right, the remaining questions are easy enough to evade or answer in a few words. Once the cameras shut off, you let out a sigh of relief, allowing Taeyang to lead you back towards the room the boys were left waiting in. 

You’re shocked to only be met with Namjoon inside the room, having expected to see all of the boys. “They went to pick up some food,” he explains. “You did great,” he tells you, pulling you into a warm hug, the planes of his chest relaxing you as you rest your head against him.

“I have decided I don’t like being interviewed,” you complain, looking up into his eyes. 

“I don’t blame you,” he nods, “but you handled it gracefully. We can’t thank you enough or possibly express to you how much we value your strength.” 

You shrug, squeezing his hands in your own as you are released from his grasp, “I needed to say something, I’ve caused you guys enough discourse as it is. Taeyang says I will film the YouTube video next week.” 

“You’ll do just as well as you did today,” Namjoon smiles softly, running his thumb along your cheek. 

Your heart flutters in your chest, “of course I will,” you smile, “I owe it to you guys.” 

“We owe you everything,” he shakes his head, “we’re sorry we’ve overwhelmed you so far. What happened with Yoongi? He wasn’t planning on it. We were all planning on taking things slow, or as slow as we possibly could take them.” 

“I know, Joon,” you whisper. “You guys have done absolutely nothing wrong. I’m just trying to wrap my head around all of it. Everything has changed. My whole life is different now. I’m just trying to work through it, figure out how I’m going to leave my job and my life in New York. I can’t stay there longer than I need to. Not with you all here.” 

“We can afford the trips out there, if you need time.” 

“I know, but a big part of me doesn’t want time,” you smile shyly, looking at the tallest member’s eyes once more. 

“I’m sure they’ll love to hear that,” he smiles back.

“Oh, will they?” 

“They’ll feel the same way I do,” he answers, “Y/N?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You smile, nodding your head and relishing in the feeling of Namjoon resting his hand against the small of your back and pulling you towards him. You feel his exhale of breath when you’re flush against him, the sturdiness of his chest supporting your small hands once again as he uses his free hand to angle your face gently towards his. 

He’s so tall, your figure is dwarfed next to his. You’re pliant beneath his touch, heart racing in your chest when his plush lips finally press against your own. He’s gentle, almost too much so, until you sigh into the kiss and he deepens it. His tongue flicks against your lips experimentally, and you react; the moan is breathy and nearly inaudible, but thankfully enough for Namjoon, he can feel it against his mouth, and he tightens his grip on you, pulling you somehow closer to him. 

He bites your bottom lip gently, chasing your lips as you finally part yourself from him, breathless and seeing stars. 

“That was nice,” you whisper, swollen and glossy lips on display so prettily for him. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, equally breathless and visually affected if the slight tenting in his jeans is anything to go by.

“Food’s here,” Jungkook announces, bouncing through the doorway and reading the room, “if you guys are hungry,” he adds. 

Namjoon blushes deeply, and you let out a breathy chuckle, heart fluttering further as the other five members enter the room, “We’re starving,” you tell them. You’re not lying. The takeout they’ve brought with them smells heavenly, and your forgotten nerves had worked up an appetite in you. 

The soft sound of birds outside your window pulls you gently from sleep. The morning light enters the room by the cracks of the shutters, painting the walls golden. You blink a few times, still nestled beneath your blanket, before sitting up slowly.

You remember yesterday, how someone carried you there after you fell asleep on the couch. The thought alone warmed your heart. They cared, they aren't like your family at all. This memory is enough to make you happy for the day.

The air is cool against your skin and you stretch your arms above your head, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. As your feet touch the cold floor, you reach for the white slippers you bought the day before with Taehyung and slide your feet in them.

You move quietly, careful not to make loud noises in case the men in the house weren't all awake yet. Your footsteps are light as you walk to the bathroom. As you enter you arrive directly in front of the mirror. You look half-asleep, with messy hair, swollen eyes, and the imprint of your pillow still on your cheek.

You turn on the tap and let the water run until it warms, the sound filling the small space. You lean over, scoop the water into your hands, and splash it onto your face. It shocks you awake, beads of water running down your skin as you grab a towel and press it gently to your face.

You dry your face, feeling more awake now and head downstairs, your slippers clattering against each step. The house is still quiet, bathed in soft morning light coming in through the windows. As you round the corner into the living room, you freeze.

Taehyung and Jungkook are on the couch, completely absorbed in each other. Their bodies are pressed against each other, hands tangled in hair and shirts, lips pressed in a slow, intense kiss. Neither of them notices you at first.

You blink, caught between surprise and secondhand embarrassment. For a second, you're not sure if you should back away quietly or clear your throat. The room feels suddenly smaller, and you can’t decide if your slippers are making too much noise or not enough.

Then Jungkook glances up, eyes widening. “Oh uh...morning” he says, breathless.

You nod stiffly, awkwardly. “Morning” you mutter, turning quickly toward the kitchen, pretending nothing happened.

As you enter the kitchen you hear Yoongi scold the two younger alphas "What did Joonie say? He told you to not overwhelm her during the first days and what do you do? You almost fuck on the couch!"

You hurry into the kitchen, cheeks still burning from what you just walked in on. The warm, familiar scent of eggs and something slightly sweet you immediately. Jin stands at the stove, humming softly as he flips pancakes with practiced ease. He’s wearing a pink apron over his T-shirt, completely unfazed by the chaos in the other room.

“Morning” he says without looking, knowing it's you by your scent.

“Morning” you reply, stepping closer. “Want some help?”

He glances at you over his shoulder and smiles. “Only if it doesn't bother you too much.”

You grin. “I was born ready.”

Jin hands you a spatula with a whisk, and you slide into rhythm beside him. He plates the food, and you keep the pancakes from burning. Between bites of stolen strawberries and quiet laughter, the kitchen fills with warmth that has nothing to do with the stove, only with the feeling of fullness being with your mate brings.

Once everything is ready: pancakes stacked high, scrambled eggs, toast, fruit, and a big pot of coffee, you and Jin start carrying it all to the dining table. Jin calls the rest of the pack for breakfast.

Namjoon appears first, hair messy and glasses slipping down his nose, followed by Hoseok, bright-eyed and smiling despite the early hour. Yoongi shuffles in next, still half-asleep but drawn by the smell of coffee. Jimin pads in behind him, offering sleepy good mornings to everyone. Taehyung and Jungkook eventually emerge from the living room, trying a little too hard to act normal.

You meet Jungkook’s eyes briefly. He gives you a sheepish smile, and you just shake your head, amused. Soon, all eight of you are gathered around the table. The room buzzes with easy conversation, teasing, and shared laughter. Jin insists everyone compliments his cooking at least twice. Hoseok obliges dramatically. Namjoon nearly spills juice reaching for the butter. Jimin feeds Yoongi a strawberry just to see if he’ll let him (he does). Jungkook and Taehyung sit closer than necessary, and no one says anything about it, knowing this kind of PDA is common in the pack.

You sit between Jin and Jimin, sipping coffee, smiling as you listen to them bicker about syrup versus honey. For a moment, it feels like time slows down, a perfect, simple morning with people who feel and smell like home.

Later that day, after the laughter and warmth of breakfast had faded into a quiet comfort, you find yourself in your room, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a pile of the blankets, pillows, and clothes you bought yesterday around you.

The sunlight filters softly through the curtains, lighting softly the room golden, but it does little to calm the storm of nerves building in your chest. You've decided to try for a nest. You first nest. But you don't know how to do one so you choose to watch a youtube tuto to help you understand.

You take a deep breath and open your laptop. You type in the search bar. “How to make your first omega nest.” You hesitate before pressing enter. This is something you’ve always wanted to do, something instinctual, something that calls from deep within you. But your father never allowed it. Nesting, to him, was childish. Weak. Unnecessary. So you never got the chance. Until now that you're with your mates, far from your father.

You click on a few videos. Soft-voiced omegas with gentle smiles explain their process: layering soft materials, including items that smell like comfort or safety, and creating a space that feels like yours. You nod along, taking mental notes, and then close the laptop. Your chest tightens with anxiety, but you shut down your stress.

You start with the blankets, spreading them out in a corner of your room, layering them to mimic what you saw. You grab your favorite hoodie, a few of the shirts that smell faintly like Jin and Jimin that you stole from a chair: safe, familiar and place them carefully inside.

You build a wall with pillows, trying to create a sense of enclosure, something soft and secure. You step back and look at it.

It doesn’t feel right.

Something’s off. The blankets don’t look as fluffy or cozy as in the videos. The shape is uneven and the pillow wall keeps collapsing. You try again, shifting things around, folding, fluffing, adjusting. You do it three more times.

Still not right.

You stare at the pile, heart sinking. A tight knot forms in your throat. Your hands fall to your sides, trembling slightly, and the frustration wells up fast, sharp and heavy in your chest.

You sit down hard, knees pulled to your chest, and that knot finally snaps. Tears flow down your cheeks. You cry, not just because the nest looks wrong, but because this was supposed to be yours. Your first moment of freedom, of finally choosing something for yourself, and in the future a place of comfort and safety for the pack. And all you can think is: I don’t know how to do this. I’m broken.

You cover your face, trying to muffle the sobs. Shame and helplessness crash over you like waves. You’ve wanted this for so long, and now that it’s here, you feel like you’ve failed at something every other omega seems to do naturally.

You don’t hear the door open, but you smell his scent, citrus and whipped cream, the soft creak of the parquet, the quiet footsteps approaching.

You quickly wipe at your face, but your hands are shaking and your cheeks are already wet, it's too late to hide. You curl tighter into yourself, hoping whoever it is will just go away.

But they don’t. A gentle hand rests on your shoulder.

“Hey” Hoseok’s voice says softly. Warm, grounding. “Can I sit with you?”

You nod, barely able to speak, and he lowers himself beside you without another word. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything else. He just sits there, close but not crowding you, his presence like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.

“I… tried to make a nest” you finally whisper, voice cracking. “I wanted it to feel good. Safe. But it looks stupid. I feel stupid.”

Hoseok glances at the mess of blankets and pillows in front of you. “It doesn’t look stupid. It looks like someone trying something new, something they were never allowed to do. That’s brave.”

You sniff, looking away. “It doesn’t feel brave.”

“It is” he says gently. “You’re learning something your body’s been waiting years to express. That takes courage, not perfection. And know that me and the others will accept your nest however it is. It'll be perfect anyway because it's yours.”

You swallow hard, still fighting tears. Hoseok nudges your knee with his own.

“Want to take a break? Do something with your hands, get out of your head for a bit?”

You blink at him, confused. “Like what?”

He smiles, eyes lighting up. “Brazilian bracelets.”

You stare. “What?”

“I used to make them all the time” he says, already reaching into his hoodie pocket. He rushes to his room and comes back with a bunch of colorful threads.

“Namjoon and I went to this little art market last week. I couldn’t resist buying some. Come on, I’ll teach you.”

Still sniffling, you nod. Hoseok moves quickly, spreading the threads out on your floor, his fingers expertedly separating colors. You follow his lead, choosing a few that call to you, soft pinks, sunny yellows, sky blue.

He shows you how to tie the knots, how to keep the tension right. It’s tricky at first, but Hoseok is endlessly patient, his presence both calming and playful. He hums as he works, sometimes singing softly under his breath. You find yourself smiling despite the sting still lingering behind your eyes.

You both fall into a quiet rhythm, knotting side by side. Slowly, the mess of blankets behind you fades from your thoughts. There’s no pressure now, just color and movement, his steady encouragement, and the comfort of being seen, cared for.

When your bracelet starts to take shape, you look at it, imperfect, a little lopsided, but full of intention.

“Looks pretty great to me” Hoseok says, smiling, wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Thanks.”

“For the bracelet or the company?” he teases.

“Both.”

He grins wider. “Anytime. We’ll make your nest later. Together, if you want.”

The late afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden light through the windows. After the emotional whirlwind of the day you feel drained, but a little more centered.

Most of the others have scattered to their own corners of the house. Jin’s in the kitchen again, Yoongi and Jimin are half-dozing in front of a documentary, and Taehyung’s nowhere to be seen with Hoseok in the den. Jungkook is nowhere to be seen.

You’re on the stairs when you hear the creak of the bathroom door and the heavy tread of Namjoon’s footsteps. You glance up and see him heading in, a towel slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, his shirt already off. His back is broad and skin smooth.

You surprise yourself with the words that rise in your throat. “Namjoon?”

He pauses, turning to look at you with a curious smile. “Yeah?”

You swallow, nerves fluttering in your chest. “Can I… join you? In the shower?”

His eyebrows lift slightly. He pulls out one earbud. “Are you sure? It's only your second day here.”

“I think so.” you say, a little too quickly. “I mean ...I don’t know. I just want to be close. Is that okay?”

Namjoon watches you for a moment, expression unreadable, then nods slowly. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

You step into the bathroom behind him, the air already warm from the steam. He closes the door gently behind you, respectful but calm, like this isn’t a huge deal, though you feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Neither of you speaks as he reaches over and turns on the water. The sound of the spray fills the room. You glance at each other, and the tension between you shifts, weird but not uncomfortable.

“I’ll look away” Namjoon offers gently. “If you want to undress first.”

You nod, grateful for the space. Turning your back to him, you pull your hoodie over your head, then slide off your sweatpants. You hesitate at your underwear, pulse racing. It’s just Namjoon, you remind yourself. Safe. Kind. Your Alpha. That last thought makes your hands move.

When you turn back around, Namjoon is in his boxers, waiting. He raises an eyebrow.“Still good?”

You nod.

He strips the rest of the way and steps into the shower first, holding the curtain open for you. The water’s hot and soothing. You step in beside him, and for a moment neither of you speaks. The space is huge, probably designed to host more than one packmate.

The steam curls around you both. You stare at the tiled wall, unsure of where to look, how to stand.

“This is weird” you mutter.

Namjoon laughs softly, not mocking. “Yeah. Firsts always are.”

He picks up a bottle of shampoo and rubs it into his palms. “You want me to help with your hair?” You hesitate, then nod. “Okay.”

You turn around, and his fingers begin to work gently through your scalp. His touch is warm and patient, massaging rather than scrubbing. You find yourself leaning back slightly into the comfort of it. “This is nice, you have some experience” you say quietly.

“Yeah” he replies. “With six and now seven packmate I've had my fare share of showers”

“I’ve wanted this for a while. Just… closeness. Not the physical stuff, just this kind of moment.” You glance back at him, foam dripping down your forehead. “You’re not disappointed, then?”

“Disappointed?” he echoes, smiling. “Because you didn’t jump me in the shower?”

You slap his chest at him with a wet hand, blushing. “Namjoon!” He chuckles. “No, I’m not disappointed. I’m honored. You’re letting me see you like this, vulnerable, nervous, trying. That means more than anything else.”

The water rinses the soap away slowly, and the mood settles into something softer, steadier. Namjoon’s hands slide to your shoulders, resting there gently. “I should probably tell you something” he says.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“Now that your nest is starting, and your instincts are finally surfacing, it means the courting process is going to begin. For real.”

Your stomach flips. “What does that mean?” Namjoon takes a slow breath, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “It means we’ll start showing you we’re ready to be your mates. It’s a natural process, mostly driven by instinct, but there are traditions too. Omegas usually build their nest, and once it’s ready, Alphas can offer items, gifts, clothing, things with their scent. We’ll take turns visiting your nest, only if you let us.”

“That sounds intense” you whisper. “It can be” he admits. “But it’s not a race. You’re not expected to choose anyone overnight. Or at all, if it doesn’t feel right. Courting is about showing up. Being consistent. Earning your trust, your comfort before finally marking you as part of the pack”

You process that for a moment. “So, like…all of you are going to court me?”

“I think so” Namjoon says. “Unless someone decides they’d rather stay back, but we’ve all talked. Everyone feels something for you. The bond.”

Your face heats under the spray. “Even Yoongi? He seems a bit aloof”

Namjoon grins. “Especially Yoongi. You’ll see.”

You nod slowly, heart pounding. “And what if I mess it up?”

“You won’t” he says firmly. “You’re not here to perform. You’re here to be you. That’s all everyone wants.”

You blink back sudden tears. “You’re really good at this.”

“At what?”

“Being safe.”

Namjoon’s face softens. “That’s kind of the point of the pack alpha, right?”

You stay in the shower a little longer, washing quietly, letting yourself grow more comfortable with the nearness of him. It’s not perfect, but it’s real. No pressure, just steady warmth. When you step out together, towels wrapped snug, you feel lighter. Not ready for everything yet. But ready enough.

He glances at you as you both walk down the hall, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Wait here a sec” he says, stopping at the door to his room. “I have something for you.”

You blink, surprised. “Now?”

“Yeah” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s...sort of traditional, I guess. First courting gift.”

Your heart jumps. You nod, watching him disappear into his room. A few seconds later, he comes back out, fully dressed now, holding a book in both hands. It’s worn but clearly cared for, the spine gently creased, pages a little soft at the edges.He holds it out to you with both hands. You take it slowly. The cover is soft under your fingertips. You run your thumb along the edge of the book, feeling the way the pages feel. It’s not a new copy, there are small notes in the margins, underlined passages in tidy, handwriting. “You annotated it” you say, flipping carefully through the pages.

“Yeah,” he admits, looking a little bashful now. “Back when I first read it in college. It helped me through a weird time. It felt… human. Honest.”

You pause on a page where a quote is underlined in blue ink: "It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

Next to it, in the margin, Namjoon had written: Don’t forget, love is an investment of time, not perfection. Your throat tightens.

“This is really personal” you say softly. Namjoon shrugs, though you can tell he’s nervous. “Courting gifts are supposed to be. They’re meant to show who we are, and what we’re willing to give.”

You hold the book against your chest, a little overwhelmed but deeply touched. “It’s perfect” you whisper. “Thank you.”

He exhales, like he’d been holding his breath waiting for your reaction. “Good. I wanted you to have something real. Something you could return to, even on the days when everything feels too loud.”

You don’t think, just step forward and wrap your arms around him. He hugs you back immediately, warm and solid, resting his chin lightly on your damp hair.You stay there for a long moment, breathing in his scent, the weight of the book pressed between you. Safe. Steady.

The taglist is open!

Taglist: @mageprincess7 @lizzy23-02 @usernameclassified007 @roryy95 @polnaraffsrack @fvta @mar-lo-pap @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @pjmxxjmdipity @ksval-idk @cravingforbangtan @angelfuzzy2

“So, I guess that Butter’s gonna be the new single?” You asked. From the distance, you could see the the clear skies, bright blue with pure white clouds, stretching outwards, their white tendrils unfurling.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on my pronunciation,” Taehyung said.

He was rubbing the back of his neck, you felt him lean his shoulder towards you. Then you remembered when you first heard the song, blinking at the memory. His pronunciation was already good then, and then you thought back to how you both laughed because you heard it the first time when you were tangled up in each other. It seemed so long ago since you were in the same space, back in your apartment.

“You sounded really good Taehyung,” You smiled, turning to him.

His face was in profile, and his gaze was far away. It was faint, but you could see the beginnings of a blush creep to his cheeks, pink against his tan skin. You didn’t realise that you were gripping the bench as you looked away again. Silence ensued, and you observed two employees take a seat on a different bench, probably on a lunch break.

“Is, uh… are you and - ”

“Yeah, he’s gone.” You answered, not letting Taehyung finish.

He was talking about Sang-Hoon - who was due to leave in the next week. After things grew awkward between you, news came that he had applied to go overseas to a sister-company. Feeling nothing but happiness for him, you even congratulated him when you ran into each other by the copier room. As he gave a small smile, you realised that you were being cruel without even meaning to. So you decided not to attend his leaving party and come to HYBE instead, upon Yoongi’s invitation. Now, you found yourself sitting with Taehyung, which wasn’t so bad.

“Would you like to come over to mine later on? We can’t really talk here - and I still have a schedule for the rest of the day,” He continued, speaking fast but deliberately.

You only really comprehended the first part, because that was an invitation to his place. Where you’ve never really been to. It was uncharted territory and a certain nervousness descended upon you as your heart leapt and the thought. You were probably quiet for a little longer than planned because Taehyung began to fidget, taking his beanie and then his sunglasses, hooking them behind his ear.

“Yeah, that would be good,” You answered, sounding less elegant than you’d planned.

“Maybe we could have some food, watch a movie,” Taehyung murmured, throwing suggestions out there, filling the silence.

“Yeah, we could do that,” You smiled, and when you looked at him, he was smiling too, his brown eyes lighter in the sun. In that moment, you felt like enough time had passed. The discomfort you had felt was gone, it was like everything was a clean slate and Taehyung was in front of you, asking you to hang out. When you looked down, you didn’t realise that both of you had inched closer to each other, and the sides of your hands were touching.

-

Taehyung had slipped off quietly when everything he needed to do was done. When he arrived in his apartment, he took notice of the mess that he left because he was so busy with the activities with BTS. It was organised chaos with minute compartments of mess dotted around. At first glance, it wasn’t that bad, but that glance lasted for about three seconds and it was obvious that the mass he had accumulated couldn’t be left as it was. Clothes were piled on the couch, Yeontan’s toys were strewn on the floor, there were dishes that weren’t washed. On his coffee table, there were books that he had leafed through and the various film cameras he was trying out were on the TV console, some by the shelf. He rolled his eyes and groaned, it was already 10:30pm and you were due to come over in fifteen minutes.

Having no other choice, Taehyung blindly dove in, no method whatsoever. He started with the big things, taking his clothes in his arms and dumping it in the office. Yeontan’s toys were just shoved in the pantry, and he could hear random squeaks as they hit the wall just as he shut the door. He ignored the kitchen, specifically the sink, deeming that the island was in an acceptable state. Reaching the living room, he stacked the books and arranged the cameras to make it look like it was somewhat artfully arranged. But as he leant back, it just looked haphazard.

The doorbell rang and he puffed out his cheeks. As he passed through his corridor, he checked his reflection, running his hands through his hair, thinking he had made it worse than it was before. He laughed at himself, thinking that it must be adrenaline that was making him like this, he had a full day after all. When he reached the door, you were there, and his heart thundered in his chest.

“Hi,” You said, looking at him.

“Hey.”

-

Once you made it past the corridor into the main living space, you took in your surroundings. Taehyung’s apartment was tastefully decorated and looked like it was lived-in. You smiled because you knew that he had probably tried to clean up, and you saw what you assumed to be one of Yeontan’s toys, abandoned by the foot of the black leather couch. Taehyung followed your gaze and immediately swiped it, shooting you an apologetic glance as he promptly shoved it into a nearby drawer.

“Sorry, I haven’t had time to clean up,” He confessed, running his hand through his hair, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth. You shook your head, not really caring about the state of his apartment. Your place was worse when he came over the first time and he didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“We could order in but I also have some food from home in the fridge, we can have that too, let me know what you want,” He said rapidly, producing his phone from his pockets, waiting for you to answer. Taking a seat on the couch, you shrugged.

“I’m not that hungry,” You said honestly, crossing your legs and looking at the various items on his coffee table. There were books about photography and foreign art exhibitions, then you found the film camera that he liked using. It felt peculiar to be surrounded by things that were familiar to Taehyung, like you were catching a glimpse of his inner life. Somehow, what you had imagined his place to be was exactly how it was before you. Taehyung was everywhere in the space. Works of art were dotted around on the walls, some sculptural pieces were on the floor, each in their own space. There were framed pictures of him and the members, and his family on display, then you saw small wooden ornaments on top of the TV console. A closer look showed that they were of dogs, and they varied in sizes in ascending order. You felt the couch dip and Taehyung settled himself next to you, your shoulders lightly touching each other’s.

“I didn’t mean it by the way,” Taehyung said.

“Mean what?” You asked, distracted because you saw that the TV in front of you took up most of the wall, flanked by black speakers. They looked solid and imposing.

“It wasn’t just sex - there was a part of me that wanted to take things further but…” He paused.

You knew that it was because of Dami. Looking down on the floor, you realised that the slippers he had handed you were a couple of sizes too big, and it swamped your feet. Then you remembered the night he told you that he wanted to stop everything. But it didn’t seem to bother you as much, facing the reality before you. It was like you could view things from above, like you had a microscope and you could choose what to focus on or not. You acknowledged how everything with Taehyung really did start on a casual basis and things got lost in translation. It was interesting how time had allowed you to reflect properly, to enable you to distance yourself from what had happened. The main thing was that you didn’t think that you could get over everything but even you got used to his absence. You waited for Taehyung to continue.

“The weekend you were at your friend’s wedding, Dami came over to drop a few things and we actually fought. She told me why she left me,” Taehyung said softly, probably reaching into his consciousness to remember how it transpired.

“She said, um, that she felt suffocated in our relationship,” He said. From the corner of your eye, you saw that Taehyung rubbed his face with his hands, pushing his dark hair back so that they weren’t in the way of his eyes. But his hair fell anyway, tumbling down and brushing his eyelashes. Keeping your eyes on the blank TV, you pressed your lips into a line, realising that they probably wanted different things but Dami just couldn’t tell him.

“I never meant to hurt her in that way and she never told me. I was in the dark the whole time,” Taehyung continued.

Staying quiet, you thought that it was possible to love someone that much, that you would rather label your discomfort as a willing sacrifice. To justify your inaction with the heroic act of loving someone. In a way, you thought that if you were with Yoongi instead, you would have done the same. The fear of losing him would have caused you to do everything, to acquiesce to what he wanted and drown out your own wants and needs. At some point in time, you would have loved Yoongi because you were more scared of losing what future you could have together rather than actually loving him. It was strange to think because both intentions stemmed from love.

Yet some part of you was nagging again, that if things would have been different, if things hadn’t been lost in translation, if things were said earlier, maybe Taehyung and Dami would still be together. They may have made things work. And your chest tightened at the thought. Taehyung wasn’t talking anymore and things were quiet again. You turned to look at him and he did the same, his expression contemplative as his gaze swept your features. His brown eyes softened as he met yours, his hair getting in the way again. It was hard to ignore how much you wanted to push it back, like you used to. You swallowed, clenching your fists together.

“Taehyung, I can’t be second to her, choose me because you want me, not because you couldn’t have her.”

It was crass but necessary. You weren’t sure where things were going to go this evening, he may have just wanted to apologise. If this was the last time you were going to see each other then you wanted to say what you wanted to say. Taehyung was still looking at you, taking your closed fists with his hands, gently prising them open, turning them over so that your palms faced upwards. Then, he rubbed small circles over the skin of your palm. It was the first time he had touched you like this in a while and your shoulders tightened, your body remembering his touch.

“I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t,” He said, holding your gaze. Out of habit, he had licked his lips and ran his teeth over his bottom lip, letting it unfurl as he took a deep breath. You noticed that he was still holding your hands, carrying on the small movements.

“Somewhere along the way, I began to really like you. I began to want more but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”

You let out the breath that you were holding in, hands turning clammy because you were nervous. Taehyung gave you a small smile, his expression was somewhat apologetic. You knew that his hands were tied at some point, and it was reasonable to assume that he needed time to sort through things in his mind. But it didn’t make it less easier, less painful, to be cut off like that.

“Besides, I didn’t think you’d want to be with someone like me. After what Dami told me, I questioned everything, whether I was capable of loving someone in the right way,” He said, his voice wavering slightly.

You sympathised since Taehyung was someone who was incredibly devoted. You understood that when it came to love, he wasn’t someone who would take it lightly. While many of his interests only commanded a portion of his attention, love was something that he gave in abundance. It was something that drove him. He thrived in giving love as much as he thrived in receiving it. For him to hear that the way he loved was enough to constrain someone was probably eye-opening and disappointing.

“I don’t want you to change. I like you just the way you are,” You confessed, making sure to hold his gaze to show that you meant it. There are things that you couldn’t fault people for since it made them who they were. As you looked up, you see his brows furrow, his brown eyes turned glassy for a moment. For a second, you thought he was offended, and you wanted to kick yourself since it may have been too much and too soon. Maybe your statement was too pithy. Then he hung his head, pitching forward so that he was pressing it against your shoulder and you stiffened, startled at his actions.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked suddenly, his deep voice reverberating against you. And your heart leapt, heat flooding your face at such a question.

Your hands left his and you cupped his cheeks, leaning back so you could see him properly. His brown eyes looked at yours, his dark hair framing his face, and he succumbed to your touch, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as you smiled at his question, giddy all of the sudden. But you didn’t want to answer, leaning into him instead, your lips touching tentatively. It was like it was the first time, electric. As you inhaled his scent, his lips were soft and inviting. Your arms curled around Taehyung’s neck, pulling him close and he relented, so you adjusted yourself, grateful that his couch was a bit bigger than yours.

As you began to recline, you felt him smile against your lips, his tongue sliding against yours as you spread your thighs, allowing him to slot himself between them. His hands travelled down, snaking its way up your top, and you gasped as he kneaded your breasts over your bra, and you arched into his touch. You realised that you missed him, you missed his touch, how he knew your body so well.

“Wait…” He groaned, propping himself up, looking at you, and you pouted at the loss of his touch.

“I don’t want you to feel rushed,” He said breathlessly. You raised your eyebrows as you looked down at the noticeable tent in his sweatpants.

“I don’t feel rushed,” You replied, circling your arms around his neck, still Taehyung resisted and inhaled sharply, acutely aware that your top was halfway off of you and your legs were lifting slightly, the slippers you wore were abandoned somewhere on the floor.

“We should take things slow,” Taehyung said defiantly, but lowered himself to kiss you once more, not listening to himself. Feeling triumphant, you ran your hand down his chest, past his shirt and the waistband of his sweatpants, palming him through his briefs. He gasped, tearing his lips from yours to look down as your nail grazed along his length, his arms trembling as you carried on.

“We can take it as slow as you’d like,” You grinned.

-

So much for taking things slow.

Though the corridors of Taehyung’s apartment were wider than yours, you had still managed to knock yourselves against the wall as you blindly sought his bedroom. Thinking that it was more of a maze than a home, you sighed as he finally swung the door open, pushing you backwards so that you ended up with your back on top of the large bed. While Taehyung busied himself with removing your jeans, you looked around, noting the bedside tables that flanked his bed, the lone chair in the corner and the table next to it that had some sort of sculpture. He had a TV too, smaller than the one in the living room. Other than that, it was relatively sparse, clearly made for sleeping. Or, something else, in your case.

“What?” Taehyung asked, following your gaze, he had managed to wiggle you out of your jeans and was now sweeping his hands from your sides to hook your top over your head. You unclasped your bra, and with that off, you were just in your underwear. You shook your head, turning your attention back on him as he planted a chaste kiss on your lips before kissing down, down your neck, to the valley between your breasts, past your lower abdomen. Heat flooded your face and before you could protest, he had slotted his hands behind your knees to spread you wide, so much so that your hips jutted upwards, your covered slit facing him. Fisting the sheets below, you averted your gaze, embarrassed at how wet you were.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you,” He murmured, his warm breath on your skin making you jolt. Taehyung took his thumb and pressed it against your covered clit and your breath hitched because he wasn’t rubbing it or anything, he was just pressing against it, feeling it throb beneath his touch. Before you could protest, he had licked along it, not caring if you still had your underwear on, soaking the fabric thoroughly, his tongue flicking along your swollen clit. And you gasped, hands grasping the sheets as your legs trembled. Taehyung lifted his head, smirking as you fell apart beneath his hold. You held your breath as he helped you lift your hips, taking your underwear off swiftly. He groaned as a string of your juices snapped against your inner thigh. The cold air made you shiver as your folds parted wetly, your core throbbing, aching to be touched.

"Spread yourself for me," Taehyung demanded, eyes never leaving your soaked pussy. You obeyed, opening yourself up for him. Then, his tanned arms circled around your thighs, propping you open and you moaned as his tongue licked a fat stripe along your slit. Slow, kitten licks over your clit had you moaning his name, hands flying to his hair.

You moaned as you began to move your hips, in erratic circles, desperate for more friction. Everything grew hot as you tipped your head back and Taehyung spread your juices, all along your folds, shoving his tongue in your pulsing core. You pressed yourself more, edging down the bed, one hand on his head, the other hand behind you, propping yourself up. You could feel his groan as you tugged at his hair, mussing it up under your grip. His arms were locked around your thighs as your body jerked from his ministrations. He rubbed his nose against your pussy, sucking your clit suddenly, making you moan wildly, hips undulating with effort. It was all too much and you were dripping, viscous juices coating his lips and his chin. When you opened your eyes he was looking at you, brown eyes alight with fervour as the wet squelch of your pussy mixed with the obscene slurps that he made.

“Taehyung!” You cried out as you came, thrashing beneath his hold, the pleasure so acute that your breath left your lungs and you tipped your head back. Taehyung continued until you had pressed your face against the sheets, whimpering from the sensitivity as his tongue laved on your swollen clit. His grip on your thighs was so strong that even if you had wanted to close your legs, you couldn't and you whined as he sucked your clit, your body responding in small jolts as you screwed your eyes shut, enveloped in sensation. The pleasure was white-hot and morphed from pain to pleasure, your hips moving to match the rhythm that he set, so turned on that you were leaking.

“F-fuck," You gasped, and you felt his tongue lapping up your juices, making you wetter and wetter. He sucked your clit, humming against your core so you could feel it reverberate against your body. Your muscles stiffened as you came again, saying his name in a choked cry, pressing yourself against his face, hips frantically rolling, prolonging your orgasm. As Taehyung locked his arms around your thighs, you could barely move, your hands fisting the sheets below as your whines turn into moans and then into cries. Pleasure surged through your body, your nerves set alight as he slowed his ministrations, pulling away, kissing your inner thighs. When he let you go, your body went slack, sinking onto the bed as you tried to catch your breath. You moaned at the sight of his lips and chin, coated with your arousal, glistening under the low light. When he kissed you, you could taste yourself, your tongue sliding against his, and his grunts filled your ears as you reached down to take him in your hand but he retreated.

"Taehyung what are you - ah!"

Instantly, you felt two of his fingers enter your tight, wet heat, his bracelets colliding against each other. Your previous orgasm made it easier for his fingers to thrust in and out, going knuckle deep. Falling back onto the bed, you moaned, slotting your left hand on the back of your left thigh, keeping yourself open. Taehyung groaned as you submitted yourself for him, kissing you once again, muffling your cries as you chased your high.

"Fuck, I've missed you," He sighed in between breaths, thrusting his fingers with such force that your eyes rolled in the back of your head. Abandoning your grip on your thigh, you threaded your fingers in his hair, pulling him close. And his thumb found your clit, pressing and rubbing it, your entire body vibrating from feeling so out of control, so at his mercy. Your hips thrashed beneath him, fucking his hand so hard, all you could say was his name. You grasped his forearm, spurring him on, relishing in the feeling of his veins as they were raised from the effort. With your hips rolling against his hand, your slick heat coated his fingers, the wet squelch of your pussy loud in the room. You moaned wildly, your hands cupping your tits, fingers twisting your nipples as Taehyung held you down, the slap of his palm against your swollen pussy making you mewl. Borderline incoherent, your breath left you as your orgasm crashed through your body, and you wailed, nails digging into his forearm as your velvet walls clenched around his elegant fingers.

"Fuck oh fuck," You moaned, hips slowing to a halt, body completely spent as Taehyung groaned at the sight of his hand, completely coated with your juices. And he kissed you, feeling your every whimper, taking in your sighs. Despite feeling lightheaded, you wrapped your arms around his neck, arching into him, your hardened nipples pressing against his chest. Skin on skin, now sticky with sweat, your bodies so hot that it radiated off of you. As Taehyung's fingers left you, his thumb rubbed your clit lazily, making you yelp from the oversensitivity, and you caught his smirk. He licked his lips, his breaths shallow as your body trembled, trying to recover from so many orgasms.

"Need to get a condom," Taehyung murmured, his hand on your waist, and you blinked, your brain not really to registering if he wanted you to get it. But he was already reaching over your head, tugging the drawer of his nightstand open. After some shuffling, he stepped back from the bed, shoving his sweatpants and underwear down, rolling the condom on his hardened cock. You inhaled sharply as he climbed the bed, settling himself between your legs. The backs of your thighs felt the hard muscle of his legs, sending small tremors along your spine. As he pressed his cock over your pussy, he used his hand to run the hard head along your folds, and you winced as it grazed your clit.

“You okay?” He asked, the tip of his tongue touching his top lip. You nodded, biting your bottom lip in anticipation as he raised his hips, aligning himself so he could push past your slick folds. He was barely halfway when you hissed, his length pushing against your walls, a slight discomfort evident despite how wet you already were. Taehyung pulled away, pressing his head on your shoulder, his gaze solely at how you took his cock in, his small grunts making you clench.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” He moaned, stilling his hips to let you adjust. You could only moan as he lifted his head, placing a hand by your head whilst the other held your hip, rubbing small circles, soothing you. The tan of his skin coloured by a pink blush and you tried to relax but the anticipation was gnawing at you.

“Taehyung,” You whined, hooking your legs over his waist despite them feeling like jelly and he balked, suddenly pushing forward, bottoming out in your pussy. Gasping, you fisted the sheets below you as you jerked from the sudden movement.

“Fuck,” He groaned, and you felt the hard planes of his body against your soft flesh, becoming so wet that you were dripping onto the sheets. Tipping your head back, you held your breath as you heard him moan at the sensation of being enveloped by you. Then Taehyung began to move, raising his hips slowly, almost to the point where he slipped out but suddenly snapping his hips so that he entered you fully in one fell swoop. You gasped, feeling so full.

Fuck.

“Have you always been this tight?” He asked, clenching his jaw as he continued his slow thrusts, heat flooded your face. What did he expect? It’s been ages. You moaned, wiggling your hips for him to go faster, trying to lift them so you could meet him halfway but he wasn’t complying.

“Taehyung, fast- ah!”

At once, he slammed his hips against yours, jolting your body, pressing you hard against the sheets. Your breath left you as he used the hand on your hip to skim at the back of your thigh, propping you open, exposing your swollen clit. Gasping, your hands left the sheets, running them along his chest, nails leaving red marks in its wake. Taehyung groaned, his pace unrelenting and he kissed you, forcefully pressing his tongue against your lips, sucking your tongue, making you moan, the sensations almost becoming too much.

Taehyung was fucking you so hard that the sound of his hips smacking against yours mixed with your cries, loud in the walls in his room. Your tits bounced as the force of his thrusts pressed you against the bed, and your hands cupped them, fingers twisting your hardened nipples, tugging and pulling, as pleasure surged along your body. Above you, Taehyung’s face was twisted from the pleasure, grunting as his jaw jutted out, his tongue running across his top lip only for his mouth to form a snarl as he thrusted into you roughly, making you yelp. His brown eyes were alight, focusing only on you, the wet squelch of your pussy making you moan as you clenched around him.

“Cum,” He growled, grasping your chin roughly just as your eyes began to flutter close, and it pushed you over the edge, your orgasm coming down so hard that your words left you. A strangled wail erupted from your lips as you gushed around his cock. The feeling was so electric that your hands flew to grasp his neck, the veins standing to attention, his hard muscle beneath your touch.

Taehyung groaned, kissing you, his thrusts becoming sloppy, and you squealed from the overstimulation, letting him chase his high, clenching around him. Taehyung tucked his head down and you curled your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He nipped along your skin, kissing it, laving where he had marked, it was carnal, the pleasure making you lightheaded. As you licked his ear lobe, nipping it softly, he came, calling your name in a low, guttural growl, reverberating against your skin. His cum swelled the condom, pushing the latex against your walls. You whimpered, hardly able to breathe, let alone speak.

Staying like that for a while, Taehyung was half propping himself up, peppering your face with kisses, not caring if your skin was slick with sweat and your hair was askew, mirroring his since you had mussed it up. He was already softening inside you and you tried to push him away, half-embarrassed, aware of his affection. But Taehyung resisted, prising your hands from your face so he could look at you. The delicate flush of his skin bloomed in his cheeks, and it was quiet since he really looked at you as if in awe, and you averted your gaze.

“So beautiful,” He murmured, his long fingers swiping your hair away from your eyes, delicately touching your skin, brown eyes sweeping over your features. And something bloomed in your chest, travelling to your extremities. It was something you had heard from him before but he sounded so sincere, as if no time had passed between you. It didn’t sound like an afterthought, it sounded like it was just for you. Taehyung kissed you, drinking your sighs and pressing himself against you, impressing the contours of his body against yours. And you thought that you could stay like this with him, for as long as time allowed.

-

It was the morning and it was quiet in Taehyung’s apartment. You had slipped away from his embrace when you saw that it was nearing 11:30 AM and you wanted to prepare breakfast. Silently patted yourself on the back, you remembered that you had a day off so you didn’t have to rush off so soon.

Tackling the batter for the pancakes, you were surprised that you didn’t have to go out and buy some since his fridge was relatively stocked up. There were fruits and vegetables and Tupperwares of homemade food, likely from his mother. He also had an impressive array of ingredients for baking in the pantry, which made life incredibly easier, particularly for breakfast. You laughed when you saw Yeontan’s toys scattered on the floor, knowing full well that Taehyung tried to clean up the night before. Humming some unknown tune, you mixed the batter in a large bowl that you found, wondering whether Taehyung wanted blueberries.

“You look good in my shirt,” A deep voice said from behind. Turning your head, you smiled as you saw Taehyung wander into the kitchen, his hair standing in different directions, eyes puffy from sleep. In fact, he looked dazed as he scratched the back of his neck, as if he was rebooting. You also found him very cute, but you kept that to yourself, turning back to the forming batter before you.

“Thank you for lending it,” You said, preparing the pan. After showering last night, you recalled how you didn’t really have a change of clothes. Instead, Taehyung gave you clean boxers and a black shirt, with Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street. It was oversized and comfortable and it smelled like him. Then you felt Taehyung’s chin rest on your shoulder, his arms circling your waist, tugging you back. He was warm, not yet fully awake as he leaned his weight onto you, not saying anything as you busied yourself with making even sized pancakes.

“I should be doing this for you,” He said, his voice slightly gravelly. You snorted, imagining how he worked in the kitchen, how disorganised he was. While you expertly flipped the pancake, he disentangled himself so that he wasn’t pushing you into the stove. He leaned on the counter, watching you quietly as you stacked them onto a plate. Not wanting to look at him, you realised that you felt bashful all of the sudden, working quickly so that could enjoy them both together.

Once you had plated yours and his, you drizzled syrup plentifully and added some fruits. The kitchen island was cleared and you placed it on top while Taehyung grabbed some glasses for juice. As you cut into yours, you felt his hands slide up your bare legs, his fingers skimming the hem of your (his) shirt. You raised your eyebrows, your fork mid-stab at the pancake. Taehyung smiled at you, it was a close lipped smile, his cheeks lifting as his large, brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

“What?” You asked, flustered as you resumed cutting your stack of pancakes. His hands were inching higher and higher, skimming your waist, causing goosebumps to erupt along your skin.

“Taehyung,” You sighed, noting how he had leant forward, hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. Your breath hitched as his lips peppered soft kisses against the column of your neck.

“Hm?” He hummed, hands moving again to deftly cup your bare chest with his large hands.

“Aren’t you going to finish breakfast?” You mumbled, eyes fluttering close as you felt one of his hands sweep along your waist, squeezing your flesh in earnest. The other pinched your nipple, causing you to arch your back, your hold on the fork and knife loosening.

“I am right now,” He replied. You scoffed, heat blooming under your skin as his tongue licked along your neck, along your jaw. Leaning further into him, you let out a shaky breath, teeth biting your lower lip as you tried to prevent a moan from escaping.

“Aren’t you at least gonna try these?” You asked, not actually caring, you just wanted to keep up appearances. He just hummed a reply.

“I worked so hard for this breakfast!” You complained, trying to get his attention by closing your legs.

“Can’t we take this to the bedroom then?” You asked, seeking a compromise.

“Sure,” Taehyung replied. But he was still nudging his leg to go between yours, prompting them to fall open. His hands were lifting your shirt to reveal more skin and your nipples hardened from the cold air. When you stopped moving, setting down your knife and fork, Taehyung pouted, lifting his head, “Fine,” He concedes, kissing you on the cheek and letting your shirt fall. Satisfied that he listened, you hopped off the breakfast stool and intertwined your fingers with his, leading the way.

-

“You better, ah, try them after this,” You said breathlessly, lifting your hips up and down, ignoring the burn in your thighs from the effort. Taehyung nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as you rode him, his grip on your hips was bruising since he was holding himself back from the controlling the pace. He was on his back, his abdominal muscles taut as your velvet walls enveloped his cock. The veins on his forearms were raised and his dark hair covered his eyes, losing himself to the pleasure. Inhaling sharply, you clenched around him, forcing a groan from his lips as his eyes snapped open.

“Ah, You can always make m-more,” He sighed, tipping his head back, thrusting up into you, making your hands scramble for purchase on his lower abdomen. Bracing yourself against him, you locked your arms, increasing the pace, wincing as his length stretched your walls, your pussy pulsing around him.

“But it would be a waste,” You replied, clenching your walls, relishing in how Taehyung’s body jerked beneath you. Then, you reverted to moving your hips slowly this time, rolling it, taking his entire length, in and out. Taehyung groaned, unable to reply as you continued, his hands slipping from your hips only to grasp the tops of your thighs, nails digging crescents in your skin. He said your name is a desperate plea, still not moving, letting you keep pace.

You leaned down, pressing your tits against his chest, your hardened nipples against the broad expanse of his tan skin. Your lips skimmed the skin of his neck, along his jaw, kissing the heated skin, licking along the lobe of his ear. As you pushed his hair back, you kissed his cheek, his temple, and Taehyung moaned as even the small shift in movement caused you to become tighter. You gasped as his reserve broke, feeling him adjust his legs, tucking them beneath you as his heels dug into the mattress. You cried out as you feel him forcefully thrust his cock into you, jerking your body upwards, parting your walls so abruptly that you had to lean forward, grabbing onto the headboard.

“Taehyung, fuck,” You yelped, as his gaze travelled down, to where his cock pushed itself inside your dripping pussy. The harsh smacks of his skin against yours making your moan as you attempted to lock your arms, tits bouncing as he continued to fuck you hard. Taehyung’s grunts filled your ears, sending a shiver up and down your spine, melting the strain in your muscles as you both chased your euphoric high.

“So… fucking… good,” He growled, each word punctuated by the hard planes of his body smacking against your clit, making you keen, your hold on the headboard slipping. And you collapsed onto him, moaning loudly as you pressed your tits against his chest, his arm curled around your waist, keeping you still while he thrusted in you repeatedly. Everything was so hot and wet, your inner thighs dripping with your slick as Taehyung rutted into you, his groans muffled as he pressed his lips onto the crook of your neck.

Each time he sheathed his cock to the hilt, he was so deep inside you that your eyes rolled at the back of your head, unable to comprehend the pleasure that surged through your body. Despite being locked in his embrace, you tried to roll your hips but Taehyung only held you tighter, determined to take it all the way. And you gasped as he murmured words of praise, his deep voice turning into a rasp, You’re so fucking good, always tight for me, and you shuddered, your orgasm tearing through you so unexpectedly that your entire body stiffened as you cried out, your hands bunching onto the pillows that were haphazardly thrown in the midst of fucking.

“Taehyung! Fuck!” You gasped as he held you down, preventing your hips from moving as he continued to piston his hips in a sloppy manner, your toes curling as your swollen clit absorbed much of the force. As he sought his own end, you kissed him, his grunts competing with your moans, clenching around him hard, your previous orgasm making you gush around his cock, coating him in your wet slick. And his body stiffened for a moment, tearing his lips from yours as he tipped his head back, eyes screwing shut as he came, swelling the condom with his cum. Your walls pulsed around him as he groaned, his hands firmly on your hips, not letting you go.

Sweat coated your skin, heat enveloped you as your heart thundered in your chest. Your limbs felt like jelly as both of your bodies went slack, sinking into the firm mattress, completely spent. Taehyung let you lie on top of him, trying just as hard as you were to catch his breath. After a while, you had mustered enough strength to roll over to his side, eyes blinking at the ceiling, your heartbeat coming down. You hear Taehyung sigh weakly next to you.

“How about brunch?” He suggested, making you laugh.

-

You stared at the various apparatus before you, all unfamiliar, vaguely resembling something you’d find in a lab. Taehyung asked you to come to his after work and now that you’ve set your bag down by the couch, you noted that he had planned something.

Now, looking at the items, they were all arranged on top of Taehyung’s kitchen island. There was an array of measuring cylinders of varying sizes, a small pipette, even a thermometer. From another room, you could hear Taehyung dropping something and you made your way there. You found him with medium sized white bottles in his arms, and there were a couple of black containers that had rolled away from his feet.

“Need help?” You asked, half laughing as he blew away the hair that got in his eyes.

“Yeah, could you take what I couldn’t catch into the kitchen?” He asked, and you scooped the rest of the thing into your arms, following him closely behind. When he had set the various bottles where there was some space left, he dug into the pockets of and produced as a timer and two film canisters.

“Oh, you’re developing film,” You observed, figuring out the answer from the sight before you. Taehyung turned to you, smiling as he arranged the chemicals in order.

“I’ve got everything you need to develop film at home,” He said proudly, placing the timer next to the cylinders. You watched, fascinated as he began to pour clear liquid in precise measurements into a cylinder, apparently from memory.

“This is the developer, after this, I have to load the film in the utility closet,” Taehyung informed, then proceeded to pour it into the larger cylinder, he had whipped around and filled a beaker with water, adding that too. Then he continued the same process, filling and measuring the different liquids until all of the cylinders had some sort of liquid in them.

“Should I arrange the things you need in the utility closet?” You asked, trying to be helpful. Taehyung squeezed your waist, swiping the film canisters, a short, black cylinder with a lid, scissors, and what looked like a cap remover.

“Come,” He said, tugging you towards the room, sounding excited. You followed him and watched as he arranged the items in order of use on the counter and you stood next to him. Taehyung worked fast with a quiet focus and after he was satisfied, he reached behind your head and switched the light off. Startled, you grabbed onto his shirt, causing him to stumble.

“Sorry,” You apologised, slightly disoriented from being submerged in complete darkness. Taehyung steadied you, his hand squeezing your shoulders, letting you know he’s got you.

“Sorry, it has to be in a light sealed area so the film doesn’t get exposed,” He said, his voice echoing slightly. You said nothing as he carried on, you heard some noises, like he was snapping off plastic. Then, there was what sounded like a swoosh, as the film left the canister. A couple more movements from Taehyung, then you sensed that he slowed, sounding like he was rotating something. After a while, just as you were beginning to grow comfortable in the dark, the light switched on and you saw the the film canister had been opened. You rubbed your eyes, letting them adjust and Taehyung was in front of you, checking whether the lid of the cylinder was fully sealed. Then, he turned to you after examining it, grinning widely.

“One last stage,” He said.

When you were back in the kitchen, you watched as he poured the liquid into the cylinder tank. Taking a look inside, it looked like a black funnel, which led to where the film was stored in the bottom. He started the timer then, keeping a trained eye on it and turned the tank upside down for ten seconds.

“I’m gonna have to do this for every minute, for fifteen minutes,” He said, leaning on the counter as you listened to the liquid inside the container slosh around. You watched him as he cast quick glances at the timer, turning the tank with precision.

“You seem really practiced,” You observed, noting how quick he was with everything.

“I practiced on old films before I could do this in front of you,” He confessed, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. He looked at you in the eye, his brown eyes unwavering. You said nothing because that made you flustered. Instead, you turned your attention to arranging the already neat apparatus behind you, clearing your throat. Nothing more was said as he carried on processing the film, eventually pouring the rest of the liquid into the tank.

When he was satisfied, he flushed the contents with water. As he opened the tank, he disassembled the parts and you paid attention to how careful he was when he unravelled the film. Under the light, you could see some indistinct shapes but they were just blobs to you. Then he held it high, running what looked like tongs that doubled as a squeegee, down its length to squeeze out the excess water into the sink.

“It should dry quickly, I’ll just hang it in the office, I’ll be back,” Taehyung said, kissing your cheek as you waited. After a few moments, he had returned and helped you clear up the equipment. It was a comfortable silence and you both fixed yourselves some snacks as you settled in front of the TV. Taehyung had given you one of his hoodies to wear even though the temperature in his apartment was warm enough. You didn’t mind, you liked wearing it since it was soft against your skin. After a while, he got up and you paused the movie, but Taehyung returned swiftly, wearing white gloves and carrying a slim rectangular box.

“They’re already dry?” You asked, impressed. Taehyung nodded, his dark hair falling over his eyes, you pushed it back for him. Placing everything onto the coffee table, the box suddenly lit up and he placed cut strips of film onto the surface, then slotted them into a transparent sheet. He sat next to you, and from his pocket he produced what looked like some sort of magnifier. You looked at his outstretched hand as he offered it to you first. Taking it, you leaned forward careful not to touch the sheet, aware that you weren’t wearing gloves. As you examined the film negatives you gasped softly.

Over the past weeks, you wondered why Taehyung was snapping pictures of you with his film camera when he thought you weren’t looking. The lens was always pointed at you even when you were doing mundane things, like watching TV or fixing your bed. You decided not to pry and let him do what he liked, content with the thought that he may be practicing on old rolls. But the images that you saw, despite being in negative, were recognisably you, at various angles and settings. As the magnifier swept along the strip, there was one of you in profile, mid-laugh, and another with your nose in your laptop, probably working through a project. There was one where you were on a phone call and drinking something through a straw at the same time. They were all candid and you looked totally unaware.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, prickling your skin. Beside you, Taehyung was still, and as you pulled back he had a shy expression, then he exhaled a shaky laugh, running his hand through his dark locks.

“This is the closest I can get to show my own point of view.”

-

One evening, Taehyung had led you to one of the spare rooms in his apartment and it looked like makeshift art studio. There were easels leaning on the wall, and various shelves containing plastic boxes of art supplies. There was also a small couch, with obscure stuffed toys on it. But you were more interested on what was on the floor. There was a plastic tarp, held down by tape at the corners, then on top was a black canvas with printed stars on it, like a cosmos. It was a sizeable, enough to be able to take up a portion of a wall. You also noticed that there was already paint on the surface. Green, blue, white, and gold paint formed blobs on random places on the black surface. Some were delivered like he had let it run from the bottle, making thin streaks, like a Jackson Pollock painting. While you waited for his explanation, you saw that he was taking his shirt off, laying out a foil packet by the bottom shelf, which could be easily reached if you were sat on the floor.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You asked, still wearing your clothes. He looked at you and realised that you had just come in without really being told what was going on.

“We’re gonna fuck on top of this,” He said, completely deadpan as he shed his shorts. Now, he was stood before you, just in his black briefs. Your jaw dropped as you did a double take.

“Where did you even get this?” You asked incredulously, crossing your arms as your eyebrows raised. Taehyung chuckled, coming towards you and circling his arms around your waist to pull you close.

“I got it online, don’t worry, it’s all safe,” He reassured, his hands running up and down your sides as you surveyed your surroundings with new eyes.

“What if it doesn’t come off?” You asked, hesitant since you had work the next day, and so did he. Though it might be a little harder for Taehyung to explain to whoever was dressing him why he’s got paint where paint shouldn’t be.

“It will, I checked the label, it’s non-toxic and washable, see…” He said, reaching down to swipe one of the bottle. It was filled with green paint, and as you examined the label, it was supposedly skin-friendly and all-natural. Biting your bottom lip, you realised that it was going to be messy but probably fun. And you exhaled a laugh, shaking your head, not actually believing yourself that you were actually going to agree.

When you unbuttoned your jeans, Taehyung was already helping you with your shirt, tugging it up and over your head, then swiftly unclasping your bra. You laughed at his impatience as he began to kiss along your neck, your jaw, then eventually your lips. His hands wandered down, down past your underwear and his fingers found your slit, rubbing slow circles on your clit, making you gasp against his lips. Taehyung began to walk backwards, still kissing you as he blindly reached behind to shove the stuffed toys onto the floor. He pulled you down so that you straddled him on the couch, groaning as you ground your hips onto his, rubbing your clothed slit on his erection.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are,” Taehyung sighed, his hands running up your waist, his thumbs rubbing your hardened nipples, making your body jolt. Before you could reply, he took a nipple in his mouth, tugging slightly, making you cry out. You rolled your hips more, spreading your juices along the length of your underwear. Curling your arms around his neck, you could feel a tremor against your skin as he groaned, circling his tongue over your nipple.

Pulling away from him briefly, you stood on shaky legs as you shoved your underwear down, your inner thighs already coated with your juices. Taehyung bit his lip as you were naked before him, joining him again, your knees now flanked his hips, descending lower, until your bare pussy came into contact with his clothed cock. He flinched, as you rolled your hips slowly, spreading you juices over him, soaking the fabric thoroughly. The outline of his cock was evident and you felt that he was impossibly hard. Taehyung rested his hands on your hips as he watched you with bated breath, sporting that signature scowl, somewhat between a growl and a smirk. It turned you on so much that you swore you could just cum from that.

“Get on the canvas,” He commanded, just as your eyes were fluttering close. And you obeyed, lifting yourself off of him, padding towards it, but before you stepped on it you turned your to him.

“How do you want me?” You asked, arching your brow, looking at the black surface, dotted with colour. You shivered as Taehyung came from behind, his hand skimmed your skin. Long, elegant fingers ghosted over your abdomen, the underside of your breasts, causing heat to bloom beneath his touch. You felt him kiss the nape of your neck as you waited for his instruction.

“On your hands and knees,” He murmured, firmly pushing you down. Once you were in position, you felt him from behind, the hard muscle of his thighs pressing against your soft flesh. You heard the sound of the foil packet being ripped open and you held your breath as he ran the hard head of his cock along your folds, barely grazing your clit. You noticed how the paint spread beneath you, cold to the touch, coating your fingers, green, blue, white, and gold. You felt Taehyung push his hips forward, one of his hands on your hip to steady himself. Not able to hold back a gasp, you felt him stretch your walls as he sheathed himself inside you, bottoming out, hitting you so deep that your toes curled.

“So fucking tight,” He groaned, his deep voice sending shivers up and down your spine. At first he was slow, letting you adjust, but the paint was slippery, causing your knees to slide further outwards, and Taehyung balked, his hand appearing beside yours as his chest pressed against your back.

“Shit, sorr- ah,” You moaned, not finishing your apology as Taehyung began to thrust into you roughly, making you pitch forward, spreading the paint everywhere, coating your skin. But you didn’t care as his right hand came into view, clasping his fingers over yours like a vice. Your arms locked to brace yourself from the force of his thrusts and you began to push back despite being caged in, tightening your muscles so that you could keep up. Taehyung moaned as you clenched around him, his balls slapping your clit, making you shudder.

Everything grew hot, making the paint more diluted, slipping against your skin, mixing together to make indistinct patterns on the black canvas, coating the patterned stars. Taehyung was grunting against your ear as your moans escalated into cries, he was rutting into you so hard that you were practically gushing around his cock, some of your slick dripping down your thighs. Your tits bounced repeatedly, and you were unable to conserve your strength, hanging your head as pleasure overcame through your body. The harsh smacks of your skin against his were the only thing in your ears, and you felt the familiar surge, your walls tightening around his cock as the backs of your thighs stung from the repeated slap of his muscular thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Taehyung growled, and you came so violently that your arms collapsed from supporting you, causing you to press your chest and your face on the painted surface, moaning wildly as you gushed around his cock. Your viscous juices coating him, the wet squelch of your pussy sounding so obscene, echoing against the walls as Taehyung continued to fuck you, his hips snapping at a toe-curling speed as you lay flat beneath him, trapped between his body and the hard surface of the floor. Your thighs were spread wide, flanking his hips, lower back arching, the ache in your muscles soothed by the immense pleasure that you felt.

“T-taehyung! Fuck, oh fuck!” You cried and you came again, your clit absorbing the force of his thrusts, your hips twisting beneath him, spreading more paint, mixing more colours, making such a mess that it was probably on the plastic tarp too. Taehyung’s grunts were loud, his mouth on your neck as he tried to muffle them but to no avail. As his thrusts became more sloppy, you gasped as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, a flash of pain radiating across your scalp. Your head tipped back as your hands grasped in front of you, and you see a mix of blue, gold, white, and green, your eyes fluttering close.

Taehyung growled against your ear, rasping your name like a prayer as your walls squeezed him powerfully. With your pussy pulsing around his cock, his cum spilled into the latex, pushing against your walls, his body stiffened. His grip let your hair go, and you felt your body go limp as he shuddered above you, kissing the skin of your back over and over. You panted as your heart thundered in your chest, hammering so hard that it was all you could hear for a while. Taehyung was half-propping himself up, trying not to let his dead-weight crush you but you could sense that he was equally spent, slipping outside of you suddenly. You turned and you saw him sit on his haunches, panting just as hard as you as he snapped the condom off, looking at the art that you created.

“Fuck that’s beautiful,” He said in awe, wiping his chin, not caring if he smeared paint over his skin.

“Me or the canvas?” You asked coyly, not turning around as you raised yourself up on your shaky limbs, keeping yourself spread before him. You knew that he had a good view of your swollen pussy, so you flexed it so he could see. You heard him groan from behind, his hand touching the skin of your inner thighs, causing you to shiver.

“You. Always.”

-

Jimin examined the new artwork that was hung in the corridor of Taehyung’s apartment. It was the first thing anyone would see as they rounded the corner from the entrance. Set on a black canvas, Jimin noted that the background was a galaxy of stars, and there were various paint strokes on top, green, blue, white, and gold. Taehyung approached him, walking slowly with a milkshake in his hand, sipping from the straw. Jimin turned to him and pointed at the work.

“This new?” He asked, taking a look again. Taehyung nodded, a small smile creeping up on his lips.

“It’s one of a kind,” Taehyung informed him, sipping his drink, admiring the work. Jimin arched his brow, he thought that this wasn’t Taehyung’s usual style.

“Is that a handprint?” Jimin asked, pressing his face closer, he was able to make out certain finger prints. Some were erratic and looked like they were dragged down onto the canvas in a haphazard way. But Taehyung didn’t answer him, instead he was still focused on the art, his eyes casting over the colours, mesmerised. Taehyung finished admiring it when he felt Jimin’s stare.

“Local artist,” He said, raising his eyebrows as he gave him a tight lipped smile. Then, he walked away, humming an unfamiliar tune. Jimin narrowed his eyes, looking at the canvas one last time before letting it go.

-

It was getting late and the online meeting you had to attend ran over, you fidgeted as you readjusted your position from sitting on the floor for too long. Your colleagues also had the same glassy-eyed look as they barely kept focus. Someone said your name and you unmuted, signalling that you were paying attention.

“Yes, why don’t we put more thoughts on this and come back to it tomorrow,” You said, not really registering much of the information since it was mostly unrelated to your department.

Just as you pressed mute, you heard your door open and in bounded Taehyung. Your jaw dropped. His usual dark locks were now gone and instead, a mass of light brown curls, almost caramel, greeted you as he came into the light. He looked like an adorable puppy. Wary that your camera was still on and giving a full view of your expressions, you quickly melted them into neutrality. Taehyung settled himself in front of you, right by your laptop and grinned widely, his eyes sparkling beneath the light of your apartment.

Do you like it? He mouthed, his eyebrows raised expectantly. You looked up briefly, pressing your lips together and nodding subtly, barely moving your head. Your colleagues were still talking as if they had all the time in the world and you watched as Taehyung ran his hand through the flyaway curls, chewing his bottom lip. Fortunately, the meeting actually ended five minutes later, and even before you shut your laptop, Taehyung came to your side, his new hairstyle coming into view. And you laughed as he kissed your cheeks, your nose, your lips.

“Do you like it?” He asked again, pulling you close, nuzzling his face into your neck. You thought about his dark locks, how they felt beneath your fingers. Then you looked at him again, threading your fingers through his now light brown, soft curls, which were wispier, easily tangled. Taehyung leaned in your touch.

“You look like a brown Bichon frise,” You laughed, and he chuckled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

-

It was stupid. Taehyung really thought that he was being sweet but it had landed you in a situation where Jungkook was staring at you as he had yanked the doors of the van open. You were in the area because you had just finished having dinner with a friend. On your way home, Taehyung had texted you, wondering where you were and offered to drive you home. You didn’t realise that he was talking about the company van, which he normally shared with the members. So when you met one of their managers, the same one you remembered from that event all those months ago, you at least thought that you’d be the accompanying passenger this time. He had told you that Taehyung would be down soon. Little did you know that Jungkook had finished earlier and wanted to catch a ride home with Taehyung. The soft hiss of the door had you looking up from your phone, excited to see him again but you held back your greeting as Jungkook appeared, clad in all black, a flash of purple hair peeking from his bucket hat.

“Hyung, I was playing this game and I’m stuck and it’s been so shit playing the same lev-”

Jungkook only realised that Taehyung was not the one in the van when he looked up from his phone. Instead, you were there, clutching your bag, looking like you were about to flee. He said your name as if it was a question rather than a greeting, then his doe eyes widened as he pieced things together in his mind, you could almost see the cogs turning. Turning his head away, you were still shocked, unsure if you should greet him or not. Then, Taehyung appeared suddenly, startling you both as he placed a friendly grasp on Jungkook’s neck, who choked out a surprise noise.

“Jungkook-ah, still need a lift?” He asked, as if it was the most casual exchange. Then, he climbed into the van, settling himself next to you. You blinked, still holding your breath. Jungkook shook his head, ducking away without so much as a glance back. Taehyung chuckled, kissing you on the cheek.

“Did you have a good day?” He asked and you were frozen, still shocked. Taehyung pinched your cheeks, cooing your name as if you were a child.

“Don’t worry, it’s no big deal,” He grinned. You swallowed, feeling strange since you hadn’t really told anyone about the both of you. But Taehyung seemed fine and that somehow eased your nerves, so you let go of the tension you had been holding.

“My day was fine. You?”

-

“Do you think he’s told them?”

You were resting your head on Taehyung’s bare chest, listening to the slow, even tempo of his heart. From the side, you could see that the clock read 02:43AM. He had his arm around you, pulling you close. Your bedroom was warm, although the weather had shifted into summer time, it was muggy. So you kept your window open to let what little breeze there was in. Of course, you were referring to Jungkook’s earlier discovery and your anxiety on whether he has told the rest of the members.

“He may have, doesn’t matter, they should know about my girlfriend,” He said, sounding like he was already drifting off to sleep.

Girlfriend.

You were Taehyung’s girlfriend. The way he had said it was so natural, as if he had said so many times before now. You shifted, your body feeling like static at his statement. Taehyung was spurred awake, looking down and checking on you.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, hugging him tightly all of the sudden, wanting to place all the energy you suddenly had somewhere. Taehyung gasped, being squeezed from your embrace. Then you heard him exhale a laugh as he returned your hug, shifting so that he was on his side, his chin on top of your head, cradling you in his arms. He rubbed your back, in expansive, soothing circles, and you sighed contentedly, breathing him in.

“Would you like that? To be my girlfriend?” He asked after a while, stopping his movements, leaning back so he could cup your face. Your stomach flipped at the question, heat blooming beneath your skin. Your heart leapt at the thought. He was asking you if you wanted to be his girlfriend. It was so simple, so natural, and it made sense how Taehyung had said it, the way it rolled of his tongue just as he was about to fall asleep. With your answer was at the tip of your tongue, you wondered why it was taking you so long to say it. As a temporary fix, you nodded, embarrassed from his attention. Despite the room being dim, you knew that he was really looking at you, gathering information about your expression.

Outside, you realised that it had started to rain, the drumming of raindrops against the window pane filling your quiet room. Taehyung was still looking at you and you could sense that he was holding his breath. You wanted to answer him this time, surrounded by the things familiar to you, his large hands cupping your face, cradling you, feeling safe in his hold.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

-

end.

-

All his attempts at faking nonchalance about anything are gone out of the window just like that. In his bones, the very chemistry of his brain — Joel feels a snap, and he sort of... embraces it.

There's silence around the table for only a second.

Nathan had asked: "But why does he get to go if it's that dangerous? I get it when you go by yourself 'cause we know you're different, but I've asked you multiple times, and it's always no. I just — I don't get why he's going."

And you had answered.

Loud and clear.

"Not that you have to get anything, Nathan, since you don't have the ground knowledge to be second-guessing my decisions of any plans, but — it's simple. I'll answer you. 'Cause he's my guy. And I'll take him to wherever I please."

You had paused, lifted both eyebrows in question, and Nathan remained silenced.

Joel freezes at first, too. When you say 'he's my guy' the words shoot like a freezing spell that hits his blood, but even with almost all eyes turning shamelessly to him, Joel can feel his shoulders relaxing further back the more you stare at him. In only a second he sees a lot of words running through your eyes, and all he can think back is a litany of — yes exactly yes—

He leans back on the chair's backrest. Both of his feet slide a few inches further, his legs spreading wider.

He is your guy.

Has been for a while now. A year — almost a year a half, if he was being really accurate. While both of you managed to keep that hidden for the better half of that time, lately the nosy (and delusional) jackasses like Nathan were prodding into your business with jabs here and there. Tauntings about the 'nature' of things between you and him. As if they couldn't see it in both of your eyes. Your postures. The way you walked side by side.

No matter how private you two tried being, you two almost had rings gravitating the bubble created around you, like Saturn in the sky.

Joel knew they frowned upon him. Talked about him on his back — about him and his daughter, about his daughter's personality, and the way Joel Miller seems to 'have only smiles for his Ranger neighbor'.

The silence around the table's broken by his own voice, letting the words slip out of his tongue. "Don't worry, Nathan. 'm not decorative. I've got good aim. If you're worried about her safety, don't be."

What a jackass move. That's what the smile on the corner of your mouth said to him. "See? So helpful. We'll all be fine, and once we're through there and come back, everyone else can be fine too knowing there's nothing to worry about."

With a sigh, you get up before Nathan can finish collecting his patience from the floor, or wipe away the humiliation of being rejected for what is far from the first time since he's unable to accept a refusal without embarrassing himself.

"Are we all clear?"

After a round of verbal agreement from the table — one of which comes through gritted teeth — you nod once, put on a smile, and sigh loudly. "Excellent. You're all free to go."

It was so, so — hot. Enticing, and hypnotizing.

The power you had over people that came not because of something futile, but because of how capable your hands were. Joel was an imbecile if he was being honest with himself.

How did he ever manage to not claim you in front of the world? He has no clue, but Joel's changing that.

Tonight.

He sits back and waits while the room empties out, slowly.

Some people linger back to talk to each other, to him, to you. He answers all of them without ever turning his body away from you, and when there are only a handful of people left, Joel remains seated, with no rush to gather his jacket or things since he's leaving with the person who's closing the whole building.

He's leaving with you.

Tommy, Mercedes, and Max are the last ones hanging around, and while the two latter go exchange a word with you — "good gods, can we do a round table vote to kick fucking Nathan out of here? I know he's a master engineer or whatever, but fuck, man, he's annoying", starts Max — his brother knocks his elbow on his side.

Joel looks up to find the smirk on Tommy's face.

"If you had feathers, you'd be peacocking all over the goddamn room," he whispers for Joel's ears only.

Joel laughs under his breath. "Shut up."

Tommy shakes his head, laughing as well. "Nah, I won't, actually. I happen to like seein' that stupid look on your goddamn face."

"Is that so?" Joel wants to sound a little more sarcastic, but with the huge smile he feels imprinted on his face, it's impossible to do so.

"Damn right it is," Tommy chuckles. "And you know why it's the best seein' that smile puttin' even a glint in your eyes, huh?"

Oh, god, here he goes. "Why?"

"Because this is the best damn I told you so on the planet. Well — one of the best. There's space for more," Tommy pouts, looking up with a musing look. "A couple of really big others." He looks down at Joel again, smiling from ear to ear. "I've gotten really smart in your absence, and I wanna hear the day when you'll admit it."

Joel's amused by the confidence — if Tommy's right about many other things Joel will find out eventually, but this, he owns.

Tommy introducing Joel to you with only a nudge in the right direction was all it took.

"We'll see about those," Joel answers and Tommy huffs good-heartedly in response, an image most familiar to Joel.

Now again, after almost decades without it.

Joel's happy for many reasons, it seems.

He sinks his feet in the feeling, not wanting to track back to things he's unable to change.

Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but Joel catches a cue from across the room:

Keys. Your set of keys when grabbed from the table make a known sound, and it's like an alarm — a triggering sound that connects to routine. He hears them and Tommy turns around, seeing how Max and Mercedes are leaving.

Joel and Tommy move in sync toward you, and everybody — with the exception of Joel and you — bids their goodbyes at the door outside.

As soon as they're out of sight, Joel turns to find your eyes already waiting for his.

He never had this type of relationship before. Never saw in someone's eyes the thoughts running through their mind at that exact moment, and it was exhilarating.

You knew your words had affected them.

The only thing you were probably unaware of was the epiphany that accompanied them — the moment his mind came to a halt.

The inner fight over faking being empty.

It was so silly. Joel was full.

"If I kiss you here, we're not gonna stop," Joel informs you.

A breathless chuckle leaves you, and you take a step, falling gracefully into his hold. "Really?"

Joel loves sultriness in your voice. "Really." He goes back to the words he's been letting your mind soak up. Closes his eyes, leaning his forehead on yours as his arm locks around you. "How could you do that to me, hm?"

His own voice is wrecked. Sounds like something out of a ridiculous sex tape, or one of those Star Wars movies from back in the way.

Seemingly content with what you've done, Joel feels your giggling more than hears it—the huffs of breath on his chin and cheeks tickle. "I wasn't really thinking when I said it? It's just — it was the third time he questioned me choosing you to team up and I know it's stupid to let it get to me, I know Nathan's just — jealous, which is even more ridiculous than anything, but I hate the way he speaks over me sometimes. I hate it! And when I saw... it'd slipped out."

It's the coyness at the end of your ramble that gets him to open his eyes.

"Slipped out," he echoes.

You nod, smiling up at him. A little shy, a little devious. "Yeah."

The worst part is — he believed you. "I believe you." Truth does that. It slips out. It's uncontainable, like sunshine or water or rain.

Then, you're happier, and whenever your smile widened like that, Joel was always taken over by the desire to kiss you. This time, he embraced the hunger with open arms and leaned to capture what he wanted.

None of you discussed the lack of control of doing this only seconds after he just said there was no controlling him, but this was more than a need — or delicious, wet evidence —, it was breathing.

Joel inhales deeply while his tongue tangles with yours, his hands finding their path easily to your hair through your favorite spots and detours on your neck. He kisses them just to breathe.

He went without addiction for so long in this world.

When your throat vibrations with a low moan, Joel knows why.

He'd been weak before. No room in him for addictions if there were no higher parts of him working. No real thinking, feeling, existing.

People turned to things that gave them a thrill because existing demanded too much. A strenuous task with little to no rewards, which made everyone to need an escape.

Thankfully, you were no escape.

And as far as vices went, the taste of you was an infinite, healthy, and powerful source for one.

He pulls back for oxygen, breathing out slowly the warmness you leave in his chest.

"So I'm your guy." Joel needed to hear it again, maybe. He liked how the words sounded on his lips, too.

"You are."

Sweet Jesus.

He needs to get you home before starting this shit. "Fuck," it slips out. You laugh, resting your forehead on his sternum, and Joel nods to you and to himself. "'kay. We need to go. Let's go?"

"Yeah".

"Alright. No distractin' me while I'm drivin', ya hear me?"

Despite having already done everything tonight, you still have the audacity to whine at his request. Joel ought to slap your ass right there in the middle of the street. On the sidewalk outside where both of you work, often.

He takes advantage of the hand on your hair, making a fist with it — as carefully as he can be — and grips just right.

Putting his mouth to your ear, he whispers. "I'll spank ya 'till your ass is red if you whine again before my tongue's buried in your pussy." Joel lives for the way you gasp for him. He presses his whole body flushed with yours, and hears the repressed groan in your throat when you feel it. "I've been half hard since what you said sank in. Calling me yours like that, claiming me for everybody to hear. Had to fuckin' stop myself from thinkin' about fucking you on that table for everyone to see. Don't make me crazier than I already am, I swear to—" his final words end muffled on your lips.

Instead of finishing, he just gets another little taste of you.

One for the road.

For safe keeping.

Joel had such a distance between his mind now and the memories of his young adult years that every time this happened, he felt a little choked up:

nostalgia.

True, genuine nostalgia.

For him, it came in waves.

It smelled of his first trip to the beach, and the taste of gelato sticking sweet on his tongue. Showing him real sweetness for the first time.

That's what driving home to you feels like.

Joel's still not used to your eyes on him. Being looked at with so much hunger scared him at first. Joel thought these days were past him. He imagined luxury, lust, adventure, and the nice, saccharine-type of adrenaline all belonged in his past.

To a Joel that died when Cordyceps wrecked the world.

It turned out that your fingertips on his thigh touched the parts of him that proved his wonderings wrong.

Sure, he had trouble getting hard all by himself if he wanted to jack off on a random weekday, but — put you biting your bottom lip on the passenger seat, and Joel was bulging inside his jeans, stiff as a rock and with no rush to see the end of it.

The silence that blanketed the car comfortably is thrown out of the window when you two enter his room, fully clothed.

You are so good for him.

When Joel kicks his bedroom door closed behind him, you are still. Waiting for it.

Knowing exactly what he needs.

A shiver runs through his whole body, and Joel sits on his armchair to remove his boots. He turns on the soft light on the interrupter behind him, feeling around the wall for it so his eyes can remain on you. When the room's illuminated by yellow, warm light, Joel kicks off his shoes and spreads his legs, making himself comfortable.

"Take off your shoes." He loves this part. "And your pants." Joel's hand comes up to his beard, rubbing the patchy hair. "Then get here," he pats his lap, and watches as you do as he asked.

Slowly. Exactly how he likes it.

Joel keeps smoothing out the hair on his face as he watches you do it. The right word for what awakens inside him every time his eyes land on more and more skin, and more of your body, is adoration.

He'd been attracted to some people since the outbreak happened, it'd be impossible for him not to — Joel pretended for a long while to be devoid of feelings, not being dead.

Attraction and primal, raw desire might belong in the same family, but they lived on almost opposite ends of the spectrum. The first was the beginning of 'Interest' while the second was the furthest point of it.

Joel desired you for things that went far beyond your looks, but gods—

The looks.

He was painfully attracted to you, and he knew it dripped out of him.

When you strip off from all the item he asks for and walks to him, Joel puts his legs together to give you space in his armchair. His arms open up to welcome your body straddling his, then wrap around you, pulling you as close as possible.

As if he wished to trap you.

You wished he would.

For a while, all he does is feel you up.

His hands run over every exposed inch of your skin while his face rubs on your neck and your face, beard leaving the first tingles of what later will be red burns. Meanwhile, your body ignites as if fuel is being added to fire.

The longer Joel touches you, rubs on you, leaves trails of his mouth and his kisses on the skin it passes through, the hotter you burn. It starts as a fire in your brain — Joel started as a single flame somewhere in your mind, one you were unable to pin a finger on and eventually put out, and it grew, and it took over. His heat spreads from a fog around your thoughts to your neck. It descends to your neck, then it warms your chest.

When his tongue and teeth scrape a spot in your jugular, the storm he caused settles in between your legs, causing them to rut against his lap, rocking against the bulge inside his pants.

Joel hums in your neck, pulling back to look at your face. His smile is smug, and you say it you hate it every time you see it. "Stupid cocky smile." The words are ineffective as always — in face of how breathy you sound, the way your hips are moving in circles on top of him, they're empty.

"You love my cocky everything." Stupid cocky bastard.

Your mouth crashes against him, landing in a bruising kiss.

Joel never minded your roughness.

He embraced it however it came, whenever it came. Joel liked it. In all its forms, it was beautiful to him.

It matches the despair inside him. Joel enjoys how he's able to devour you, sometimes whole, because you feast on him as well. You tongue is hot and heavy on his, and your moans awaken the words from the meeting back to him.

Joel kisses even harder.

His hands — one on the nape of your neck and the other grabbing at your back, your boobs, your stomach — both move to your waist and guide your moves to slow it down.

When you pull back to breathe, Joel wants to feel everything.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion, throwing them off somewhere without care. He removes your top as well, then takes a moment to appreciate the view.

"Take my clothes off, baby." He hates to have you off his lap for even a moment, but for this, it's worth it.

Since the first time he slept with you, Joel chooses to let you undress him if he can. If he's not in a rush to have you, if it's not one of those incredible moments when he already wakes up with you naked and him still only in boxers — if he can, Joel picks this—

Your fingers sometimes are desperate. Buttons are your worst enemy when all you want is him naked for you, but most of the time, you take your time. Do it slowly, taking off each item with the care he never seems to have for your clothes because all Joel cares for is your skin.

"I like taking them off."

"Why?"

"Remember how I asked you that first time to do it?"

"Yeah."

"So — I wanted to do it for so long. I—don't laugh at me, or — look at me weird, but. I thought about it. A lot. Thought about... all these layers you're often using. And — I'm crazy about your body. You—I know you complain about the aches and joke about being old and frail, which is — bullshit. Ridiculous, and everyone knows it. It's just... I like that you let me do it. I like that I get to undress you. It's hot. You're hot."

The memory strikes him again — as it does when he's in this position — and Joel feels a little raw.

Now that he knows how you feel, it makes it more real.

How you peel off his shirt by running your palms across his chest all the way through his back. Undoing the zipper of his pants, you palm the outline of his cock, then get down on both knees to pull them all the way off. Joel helps by lifting his hips a little, and seeing the way your eyes snap to his groin makes him burn.

Joel knows exactly what you'll go for — he watches you remove and throw his jeans to the side, hands running up his calves while you stand on both knees to nibble little bites on his thighs.

He hisses, feeling his dick twitch the closer you get to it. He lets you have your fun, no matter how much it feels like torture.

Your tongue touches the muscle of his inner thigh, sucking a bruise in there, and Joel gasps. "You ain't gonna do what you think you are."

You muffle what he images would be another whine by sucking a bruise on his other thigh. "Please?" You blink your gorgeous eyes, gazing straight at him.

Joel cups your face in one hand, smiling again. He refrains from answering because he likes what comes next.

The kisses that inch closer to his cock. The innocent, and yet siren eyes that stay steady on his while you whisper. "I've been good. Why not?"

"'Cause I have other plans for you."

You perk up. "What d'you want?"

Joel pats his lap. "Get back here."

You do as he says in a second, but instead of straddling both of his thighs, Joel guides you to one of his thighs. It's a tight squeeze in the armchair, but he makes it work. He pulls your panties to the side and pulls you down, feeling the wetness of your cunt at the first movement of your hips.

"That's it," he coos, tangling one hand in your hand to pull you in for a kiss. "Wanna see you get off on my thigh, baby," he kisses your neck, and smiles when you moan at his words and grind harder on him. "Just like that. Gonna use me? Hm?"

"Yeah."

"Gonna use your guy?"

"Joel." Your movements back and forth create a path of slickness in his thigh, and for someone who occasionally needs a little hand from you to get fully hard, he would believe the horniness in his mind that says he's just as young as ever. He feels he's never this hard — this desperate; the wet patch in his boxers only amplifies the louder you moan for him, and with your mouth back on his, Joel can imagine he's a mess.

Not as much as you. Nonetheless — a mess.

With a red, plump mouth, you pull back from his kisses to hold onto his face. Your other hand is gripping the back of his head, and Joel loves the look of pure lust on your face.

The look of someone who's in another dimension of feeling good.

He did that. Joel groans low in his throat when he thinks of it, and assaults your neck with kisses. One hand comes down to slap your ass, and you yelp — the look of surprise that flashes across your features is replaced by one of absolute pleasure within a split second, and Joel growls at witnessing it.

He slaps the other side with his other hand, and you cry for him.

"You're gonna cum like this." He knows you can. Joel's tested several different ways he can bring you to the edge, and this is one of his favorites. "Then, I'm gonna fuck you with my tongue."

"Oh, god." Your cries are accompanied by whimpers at every push of your hips on his thigh, and the slick sounds covering the air are taking away Joel's ability to think of anything other than you.

"Yeah — 'm gonna fuck you so hard, baby, goddamn it."

"Just like — like you want to? On the table?"

"Yes. Fuck—just like that." Joel sees you're teetering on the edge. He recognizes the trembling of your hand fisted in his hand, and the desperate way your hips start moving, almost losing balance. He leans to capture your bottom lip with his teeth, wanting so badly he could eat you. "Cum for me. If I'm yours, then you're mine, right?" Your hips falter at the words, losing their rhythm due to the shiver that runs through you. "That's it. Show me you're my lady. All fuckin' mine. Always so good for me, so fuckin' perfect—god, yeah. Like that — so damn good. Cum, baby. Don't stop. Keep cummin' for me."

Between your first and second orgasm, Joel gets lost in his mind and the moment.

It's rare for that to happen.

For someone who was used to panic rising so fast in his chest that it led to his heart trying to run out of his chest, or at least beat fast enough for it to feel like that, having no other thoughts but the present one and to submerge in what he's feeling.

He had to stop running from it — he feels.

Life never stopped, even if it felt like it did. No broken watch would stop time, and it was you who brought him the realization.

Joel shows his gratitude in one of the few ways he knows to.

One of the few ways he's at least certain he's good at.

By bringing you white bliss, and making you drown in nothing but good, for as long as he can. He carries you to bed and eats you from behind at first. That way Joel can fuck his tongue deeper inside you — he can bend you as far as you'll go and use his tongue until his jaw aches; until it stings and then burns because the reward tastes sweet on his tongue. It washes away all the hurt and gets his humming against your wet and pulsing core.

When he turns you over to do the same thing again but with you on your back, Joel gets lost in the middle of the way.

Your hands make grabby gestures at him.

Legs shaking, your skin covered in sweat, the way you say, "Please get on top of me." It's all too much.

Joel loses his last piece of clothing in one motion, and does something he should know better than to risk.

Grabbing his cock by the base, he drags the head between the lips of your cunt, pulling a moan from both of you. This is where he usually would grab a condom — after teasing you, giving you just the head, making you spread your legs wider or lock your legs behind his ass just to pull him closer.

Not this time. This time, he leans down until his mouth is on your ear and asks. "Can I? I understand if you don't want to—"

"Please. Yes, yes," you interrupt, hooking your legs around him and already pushing his hips closer.

Joel slides deeper, grunting on your neck. "Always so tight," he sounds drunk. "Lemme in, baby... Like that. Breathe deep." Joel's a big man, and the way you slowly relax to take all of him gets to his head every time. "Atta fuckin' girl, jus' like that."

"Joel this feels even better." The whine around the words makes him cry on your shoulder. He knows this is far from being the last time now.

He pulls out and slams it back in. "Fuckin' hell — it does." He thrusts his hips hard, but not fast. He likes to enjoy your sounds.

The filthy ones that fill the room.

If you sense that something shifted in Joel — something in his core, a foundation that he painted a coat of invisible ink over it as if such a thing existed — nothing about you lets that out.

You always held his face in your hands as he buried himself inside you.

The way you look at him — nothing about it is new, either.

Only this time, Joel lets himself feel it all the way through.

He is your guy, after all. He can feel all the good things you bring out in him because you want him to. It matters to you if he's happy or not. If he's safe, and fed, and not in pain. Joel buries himself in you the same way he buried all his hopes long ago — you found it in him, anyway. Years later, somewhere between all the grief and dust, you picked it up and gave it back to him even if he never asked for it.

Joel's usually harsher with you, not because he's trying to be mean, but because you like it when it hurts a little.

"Wanna feel you tomorrow—" are words he's heard a lot coming from you. Today, you say, "You gonna let your cum drip out of me?"

And it fucks with his head. He nods in answer, snapping his hips harder. Joel glues his forehead on yours and nods, grunting with the effort and the delicious drag of your tight cunt squeezing around him.

"'m close, Joel — feels too good."

That's his favorite song. How out of breath you sound, voice higher than ever. "'m gonna cum when you cum. 'm right behind you, baby. 's ok. Take your time. Feels good? Hm? Taking every fuckin' inch of me?"

"Oh god, Joel." Your hips are pushing back on his, and your arms use his shoulders for leverage as you hold onto him.

He laughs, kissing you through gasps and his own sounds. He shares the same air as you, wanting to fuck you so fast and hard that both of your hips will be hurting tomorrow, but he wants this to go on for a long time more than he wants to lose himself in you.

When your begging for "More, please Joel, more—" starts, Joel sits both of you up, pulling you back to his lap. He puts a pillow behind your back, supporting you against the headboard, and sits on his kneels and heels even if tomorrow they'll be aching.

You give him massages when he's hurting.

Joel needs to be as close to you as possible. Like this, your bodies are one.

Like this, you can plant your feet against the bed and fuck him back, as hard and as fast as you want to.

Joel gets a face full of your boobs bouncing up and down and your screams muffling his moans.

He feels it coming — you cling your arm around his shoulder and pull his face to yours again, your mouth hanging open in a perfect O until your eyes close shut.

Joel seems to lose all notion of time as you fall apart on top of him. He feels it all over your body. The orgasm shakes you whole, the trembling only losing for the way your cunt squeezes so hard around him, making it even harder to pull out. He fucks you deep and hard then, and it takes only a few more thrusts before he's moaning in your ear as he fills you up.

Coming down from a high is always difficult.

With you in his arms, it never happens.

Joel plays with his own cum leaking down your thighs, and smiles to himself when you tremble in sensitivity at his minor touches. He'll take a warm cloth and clean you both later, but first, he'll make a mess.

"All mine," he tells you. His fingers graze your clitoris, drenched in the mix of his own release and yours, and something in your eyes tell him you know what he's talking about.

While he may be unable to say some things — and your existence is challenging even that — he can say this much.

He agrees with you.

"All mine," you echo. Your kiss on his lips taste sweeter than before. They taste like I'm yours and you're mine, and for now, that's all he needs.

Joel has you, and you have him. It's all he needs to start.

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @simply-sams-things — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 — @averysblog — @pedrostories — @fleursirvart

𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪  : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form.

𓆩♡𓆪  you can also check out my reading and fic recommendation blog 𓆩♡𓆪  : ̗̀➛ @wolfvmin-reads