this has really gotten out of hand

1:

“So I was thinking…” Taehyung trails off, glancing up at you through those stupidly long, pretty eyelashes of his and tendrils of black hair hanging just past his eyes. Absentmindedly, he churns the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks.

Your chewing slows, suddenly suspicious. A swallow, and then “About what?”

“Have you ever squirted?”

God damn him for asking that question right when you had taken a drink of water. You choke, water going down the wrong pipe immediately while somehow also shooting out of your nose.

“Oh my God, y/n, are you okay?” Dropping his utensils at once, he rounds the table to rub your back as you cough and regain your breath.

“What” you wheeze. “The fuck?”

“I’m curious! Sorry,” he raises his hands in mock surrender as he resumes his seat across the small table from you. “You haven’t with me, but we’ve only had sex a few times. So I was wondering. You come right? With me?”

“Yes,” you laugh, heat rising to your cheeks. “I came every time, you know that. I’m not a faker. But to answer your question, no I have never squirted. Not everyone can, right? I don’t think I can.”

Taehyung is silent, eyeing you carefully as he slurps up another mouthful of ramen. You wilt under his dark gaze, averting your eyes back to your own bowl of ramen. When he does finally speak, it’s merely a “Huh.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, head snapping back up to meet him.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “I just don’t think that’s true. I think you can, you just haven’t yet.”

“Tae, I know my body. I’ve come plenty of times in my life. Sometimes pretty hard. If I could do it, it would have happened by now.”

A sly smile takes over his face. “Maybe. But that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

 “You can try all you want. I don’t think it’s happening.” Standing, you gather the now empty bowls and bring them to the sink, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. You feel as your boyfriend comes up behind you. He brushes your hair to one side before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck. This relationship is fairly new, you’ve only been seeing each other a few months, but he has always set your skin aflame with his touch. It takes everything in you remain upright, to fight the urge in your knees to buckle.

“Can we try right now?”

Giggling, you lace your fingers in his and pull him towards your bedroom. You came, many times, but despite his dedication, you did not squirt.

2:

Busy schedules keep you apart for a few days until you finally find a lunch break gap you can both take, so you meet at the park for a walk. Clasping hands, you’re enjoying the feel of the sun on your face after the long dark of winter when Tae speaks.

“I’ve been doing some research.”

“About what?”

“Well, apparently about 40% of women have squirted.”

“Tae!” You gasp, looking around the park to make sure there are no tender ears around to hear. “Quiet, we’re in public.”

“Babe, no one is close enough and if someone is eavesdropping that’s their own problem. It’s not like we’re at a playground.”

“Okay, well,” you lower your voice, wanting to make sure you could not possibly be heard by anyone other than Taehyung. “Doesn’t that sort of prove what I said the other day? I just can’t squirt.”

“No! Are you kidding? Think about it, y/n. Whatever that sample size was, it’s obviously not all women, it’s not like every single woman took that quiz, or whatever. And I’m sure there are women that have squirted that are ‘unreported’ so to speak. Also, think about how many women are just living their lives unfulfilled sexually. I mean, let’s be real here, a lot of men don’t even give a fuck if the woman their sleeping with enjoys it at all, let alone comes. And from my understanding, you have to be pretty turned on and come pretty hard to squirt. I would bet you a lot of money that most, if not all, of those women could squirt, they just haven’t because they’re having sex with losers.”

You think back to former relationships. Taehyung was definitely the first man you’d been with that had been so dedicated to making sure you enjoyed yourself. With your first boyfriend, you were so in your head about being ‘sexy’ or good at what you were doing you never even came. Sex felt good, sure, but a lot of the time you were ‘thinking’ too much for it to be anything more than that. With Taehyung, his reassurance, his technique, it wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. He made sure you came, once at minimum, every single time, concerned about how much you were enjoying yourself more than anyone else you’d ever been with. To hear he is so occupied with making you squirt was concerning.

“Tae, you know it’s good for me when we have sex, right? Just because I don’t squirt doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy myself. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It’s amazing every time.”

“I know you enjoy yourself, baby. It’s just that I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum capability.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your dedication. Just don’t take it personally when it doesn’t happen.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It will. I’d try now but we both have to get back to work. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

3:

You’re relaxing on your couch, enjoying lowkey night in with nothing but snacks and tv, when the ringing of your phone interrupts your show. Pausing the show, you grab your phone to see Taehyung’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” you say as you answer.

“Hey. Can I come over?”

You pull the phone away from your head to check the time. It’s only 7pm, but you usually planned date nights in advance. “Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to see you.”

You can’t fight the smile that curls your lips. “You’re supposed to see me in two days.”

“Don’t want to wait. Alright I’ll see you in twenty.”

“See you soon, babe.” You hang up and toss your phone to the other side of the couch, becoming immediately engrossed in the television once again. After what feels like no time at all, you hear Tae’s signature knock on the door. Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders, you cross the room to let him in. As soon as you open the door he folds you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips that starts chaste and slowly becomes languid and sensual.

Dazed, you pull back. “What was that for?”

He smiles down at you, a glint in his eyes. “I watched a tutorial on squirting. I want to try it.”

You throw your head back and grown. “Oh my God, Tae, this again? Why are you so obsessed?”

“I told you, I want to make sure you enjoy yourself to the maximum ability.”

“Tae,” you say, pulling the blanket tighter around you. You hadn’t considered it before, but you’re starting to wonder if maybe his previous girlfriends were able to squirt, and it’s something he considers lacking in you. “Is it.. bad for you that I don’t squirt? Have you made your previous partners squirt?”

He blanches, mouth dropping open in shock and brows creasing. “I-what? No, babe. Baby, no it’s not bad for me that you don’t. What I’ve done with other partners has no relevance to me and you, but yes I have made others squirt in the past. But I’ve also been with people that haven’t, neither is better or worse when it comes to how it is for me or how it feels. What I am so focused on here is making you feel good, figuring out the science behind it.”

“What science? Isn’t it just pee?”

“No! It’s an entirely different chemical compound.”

“Good lord. So I’m like your science project?”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not my science project. Your pussy is.”

You throw your head back, cackling as Taehyung bends down to lift you up, tossing you over his shoulder and stalking to the bedroom.

4:

Weeks have flown by, and still Taehyung remains fixated on his quest to get you to squirt. You can’t complain, the weeks have been filled with mind-blowing sex. He has tried with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, making you come over and over until you tremble, physically unable to take any more stimulation. But never once has your pussy turned into the fountain he so desires.

“Alright, I think I know where I have been going wrong,” he says, laying on the couch with his head resting on the pillow of your chest.

“Where?” you ask, no idea what he’s even talking about. Taehyung is like that though, his mind always wandering from one thing to the next, keeping you on edge. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.

“I think I need to edge you more.”

“What? Why?”

“When? Who? Are you going through all the ‘W’ questions?”

“Shut up,” you cackle.

“For real though, you have to be super turned on to squirt. As you get more aroused, your urethral sponge enlarges and hardens and then your Skene’s glands fill up with cum and then with pressure and massage you’ll squirt. I’ve been too eager; you’re coming too fast.”

“Okay Bill Nye. Is this your version of dirty talk? Because ‘Skene’s glands’ is not sexy.”

“It can be sexy! C’mon baby, let me massage your urethral sponge.”

“Oh my God.” You can hardly breathe through your laughing as he buries his face in your chest. “I’m on the rag, I can’t tonight.”

“You know I won’t let that stop me. We should put a towel down anyway for when you squirt.”

“I know it won’t stop you but it’s stopping me tonight. I don’t feel sexy. I feel bloated and gassy and gross.”

He huffs. “Fine, that’s fair. Next time.”

“As long as you don’t say ‘urethral sponge’ again.”

5:

The stars must be aligning in your boyfriend’s favor, because the next time you see him you’re ovulating, meaning just being next to him turns you on. Smelling his signature scent, a magnetic mix of cedar and musk, has your lower belly swirling in anticipation. You’re at his place this time. After spending the day at the beach together, you walked hand in hand back to his place and hopped in the shower to rinse off. For once, he’s said nothing about getting you to squirt. Didn’t even make any comments when you suggested you shower off together. He just hopped in with you, lathering you up with soap and running his hands over your body as if it was nothing. If you hadn’t witnessed his dick getting hard with your own eyes, you would have thought he was entirely unaffected. You kept waiting for him to make a move, the slickness between your legs increasing with every touch of his skin against yours, but he turned the water off and stepped out without a word about it.

“Dry off and meet me in my room,” he says, handing you a towel and pressing a kiss to your lips that was entirely too innocent for your liking before leaving the bathroom. What game was he playing at here?

With a sigh you dry off and pull on the sweatpants and baggy t-shirt you had brought from home. It was one of his shirts he had left at your apartment. Strategically, you never washed it so the smell of him lingered. Given how already aroused you are, it probably isn’t the best idea to physically wear his scent, but what else are you supposed to do? It was getting to the point where you’re so wet it’s uncomfortable.

Taehyung is lounging against the headboard when you enter his bedroom, shirtless and with a pair of tented boxers slung low on his hips. You bite back a smile seeing the effect the shower had on him, knowing it isn’t just you.

“Why are you dressed?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Didn’t you say to?”

“I said dry off. Take your clothes off. I want to give you a massage.”

“Why?” you ask, pulling his t-shirt over your head like he asked.

“I just do. It was a long walk back from the beach, and you just had your period and that makes you sore sometimes, right? I want to help you relax.”

“You can help me relax in other ways,” you suggest, climbing into the bed once you’re naked.

“Hmm, maybe later. Lay down.” He pats the bed beside him and you huff, trying to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your cunt as you lay on your stomach.

“What is that?” you ask as something warm and wet hits your back.

“Warming oil. I’m giving you a massage, like I said.”

Closing your eyes, you sink into the feeling as his hands spread the oil over your back. Rubbing it in, he keeps his touch gentle as he massages your muscles. He spends extra time on your lower back, the area that that is most stiff and sore when you’re menstruating, and his thumbs ease the muscles before dipping lower. His touch remains innocent, for the most part, even as he massages the length of your legs before returning to your glutes. He spreads your cheeks, his thumbs slipping between your legs and grazing the exterior of your pussy as he massages. You can’t help the groan that slips from your lips at his touch, but he continues as if he didn’t hear anything. With each pass of his hands, his thumbs get closer and closer, until they graze your clit on each pass. He grunts as one thumb slips inside on accident due to how slick and slippery you are.

“Turn around.” The words come out hoarse, his voice deep with barely restrained arousal.

You do as he asks, rolling until you’re laying on your back as he kneels beside you. You eye his dick, ramrod straight, red and leaking at the end, and lick your lips. “Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs, catching your gaze, but he doesn’t stop as you reach for him, grasping his length in your hand and slowly pumping, spreading his pre-cum and using it as lubricant.

“Naughty girl,” he hisses, breath hitching as you squeeze him. His hands return to your body, slick from the oil, massaging your legs and moving up, up, until he reaches your breasts. Leaning down, he takes a nipple in his mouth, teasing with his teeth before suckling at the raised peak of your breast. Coming off that breast with a pop, he moves to the other as his hand reaches between your legs. He trails his fingers lightly along your thigh until they reach the apex, then ducking between your folds as he groans. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“I’ve been wet since the goddamn beach.”

“I know,” he growls, releasing your other nipple from his mouth to speak.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it.” The words sound whiny even to your own ears as you buck your hips into his hand, squeezing his cock as you continue to pump him.

“All in good time, baby.” He moves up, licking a stripe up your neck before nipping at your ear. You shudder at the combination of sensations. His fingers, slick from the oil and your arousal, begin to swirl soft circles over your clit. It’s so good, but it’s soft, too gentle.

“More,” you groan, and to your surprise he listens, slipping two fingers inside, but he doesn’t pump them. “What are you doing, Tae?” He places his other hand atop your lower belly, pressing down lightly while the fingers inside you press up, dragging along your walls until they hit that perfect spot that has you keening, arching off the bed.

“There?” he asks, grinning as your hand halts on his dick. It’s the last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut, because rather than pumping his fingers, he leaves him fully inside, massaging that one spot over and over. You nod, frantic, hips bucking as your chase your high, until he suddenly removes his fingers entirely.

Your eyes snap open, glaring at your boyfriend, who is currently wearing the definition of a ‘shit eating grin.’ “Taehyung. What the fuck.”

“We gotta take it slow, baby. Ease you into it.”

“I don’t need to be eased into it. I’ve been wet for hours. Make me come.”

Still smiling, he takes your hand off his cock and moves until he’s laying between your legs. “Can’t wait to taste you. You smell so good.” He runs his tongue up the length of your sex, swirling it over your clit before sucking the swollen nub into his mouth while his fingers play with your opening. Almost all at once you’re right back on that edge again, but he releases you before you can tumble over, forcing you to skirt along the cliff-face, but not allowing you to fall.

“If you don’t stop fucking edging me I swear to God-“ You can’t finish the threat because his fingers are back inside you, rubbing at that spot again, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. His tongue is no longer involved, and when you open your eyes for a peak at him he’s got a determined set to his jaw, his eyes black as they’re locked in on your pussy. Just the sight of him would be enough to make you come, the pressure of his fingers is merely icing on the cake at this point.

“Let go baby. Let everything go,” his voice is husky, so low you can barely hear it over the squelching of his fingers in your cunt, and it catapults you into the abyss. You arch off the bed, vision blurring before your eyes squeeze shut and your body convulses. You’ve never felt anything like it, and the sudden gush of liquid down your ass is the least of all the sensations. Taehyung doesn’t give you a break, pulling his fingers from you as you gush and swiping them across your clit, fast until you’re coming again before you’ve even had the chance to come down from the first orgasm, more liquid spurting from your weeping cunt.

“What-“ you heave, trying to catch your breath. “The fuck…” As you come down, you begin to feel just how extraordinarily wet you are. Opening your eyes, you look down at your boyfriend between your legs.

His face is soaked, glistening with your essence, a proud boxy grin on his face. “I told you you could squirt.”

“You,” you said, sitting up to grab his face and pull his lips to yours. You speak between kisses, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Are the most ridiculous, determined, incredible man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe that happened.”

“Can I fuck you now? I’m hanging on by a thread here. I almost came by proxy just from you gushing all over my face.”

“Yes,” you say, laughing against his lips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp as he trembles and moans. Reaching between your bodies, he grabs his cock and rubs its head along the length of your cunt. You jerk and twitch, slightly overstimulated but in that sweet spot where it hurts so good.

“You okay?” he asks, breaking away from your mouth so his eyes can search your face.

You could cry at his concern, but you won’t. All the moisture in your body is on Taehyung’s face already.

“I’m okay, just a little sensitive. I can’t believe that happened.” You repeat. “You’re incredible.”

Taehyung actually blushes, ducking his head into your neck. “I knew you could do it. We just had to unlock the code together.”

You put your hand under his chin, lifting his face up to kiss him. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you reach down and grab his length positioning it right at your opening. You lift your hips, sighing as he slips inside.

“You’re…” he trembles in your arms. “So warm. So wet. You feel so fucking good.” His words are slurred as he begins to pump into you, like he’s drunk off your cunt.

“You… too…” you whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as he rolls his hips, ensuring that his cock rubs against that spot deep inside that he had massaged before.

“I want you to come again. With me,” he says before bending to take your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his hips increasing.

“I can’t,” you keen, arching into him.

He pulls away, meeting your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. When he pulls away again, he tugs your bottom lips with his teeth before letting go. “You can, baby. And you will.” Reaching between your bodies, he swipes his fingers over your clit. He sits up, adjusting the angle of his hips so his cock presses against the top of your walls with more pressure.

“Tae. Baby. I’m gonna- nghhh-“ your words turn into a scream as you come again, writhing against Taehyung. Your hips jump so much he slips out of you, and this time you actually see the stream of clear liquid that shoot from you, landing on your boyfriends abdomen just as he comes as well, painting your pussy with ropes of milky cum.

Several moments pass as you both catch your breath, growing from wet to sticky with each passing second. Tae is the first one to speak, looking down at the veritable lake your body created with a goofy and satisfied smile. “Oops, I did it again.”

“Oh my god. Did you just quote Britney Spears after sex?”

“Cunt go crazy, like Britney, baby. You hit me with it one more time.”

Your hands come up to cover your face as you dissolve into laughter. Only Taehyung would complete an epic round of sex with the altered lyrics of his new favorite song.

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle.

Laughing with you, he lays down, covering your body and pressing kisses to your face. “I wasn’t even trying to make you squirt that time. I just wanted you to come with me.”

“Well, it worked. A little too well. This is going to be a lot of clean up.” Suddenly feeling hot and increasingly gross, you gently push him off you and sit up, looking down at your bodies and the soaked sheets. “Let’s go shower again.”

© 2026 leahsfavefics Do not copy or repost without permission.

You make sure Seokjin doesn’t miss the death glare that you aim in his direction. He dragged you to this stupid party, said otherwise he’d spend the whole time in the corner reading webtoons on his phone. And now you have to tolerate the absolute fuckery of his nasty friends.

He grimaces a silent apology back at you, bringing one hand up to smack Tae firmly on the back of the head.

“She peed?!” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he pauses with his own drink halfway to his mouth.

Everyone reacts at once: Hoseok quite literally doubles over, Taehyung fights to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, Jimin gives an aggressive side-eye, Seokjin covers his face with his hand. Even Yoongi reacts, smiling a rare wide smile, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.

Namjoon takes the educational opportunity, clapping a hand firmly to Jungkook’s back. “Do you know what squirting is?”

You watch as Jungkook’s eyes flit across the circle. “I thought it was pee,” he admits, voice a little quieter this time.

“You are so fucking dumb,” Jimin says, shooting Jungkook a look of utter disgust. Hoseok is literally on the floor at this point.

“It’s, uh…” Namjoon makes a face as he searches for the right words. “Female ejaculate.”

“Girl cum?” Jungkook translates.

“I don’t care if it was piss, it was fucking hot,” Taehyung says as he downs the last of his drink.

“You’re disgusting,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head as he offers a hand to help Hoseok to his feet. Taehyung sticks his tongue out, waggling it side-to-side, which just sends Hoseok right back down again with another peal of laughter.

“I’ve never hooked up with a squirter,” Jungkook says softly, like he’s a little disappointed.

You open your mouth to speak up, as the only person with a vagina currently partaking in the conversation, but Yoongi beats you to it. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”

His words surprise you for a second, but you shake it off and continue. “Not every girl can squirt. Most can’t.” You shrug slightly.

“That’s not true,” Yoongi counters, and you whip your head to look at him.

“What the fuck do you know, Min Yoongi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don’t know why Seokjin thought it was a good idea to bring you around his friends, when he knows you have no filter.

Yoongi raises a hand, as if to signal that he’s not trying to fight. “I’m just saying. Once you learn what to do, anyone can get there. Just takes some patience. And a lot of foreplay. But I’ve never not made a girl squirt.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’ve never squirted.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you’ve set yourself up for, and you have to fight the urge to clap a hand over your mouth. The same response ripples through the group a millisecond later: eyes widening, lips pursing in silent expressions of shock.

“I think I need another drink– should we all go?” Namjoon asks, extremely unsubtle.

Before you can scramble to even think, let alone say anything, he’s got his arms around Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders and is shoving them towards the kitchen. Seokjin and Jimin work together to peel Hoseok off the floor and quickly follow.

Which just leaves you, Yoongi, and a very interesting proposition.

“So, are we doing this?” You ask bluntly.

Yoongi shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t act all shy now, squirt god!” He exhales a soft laugh, and you gesture to the stairs. “Lead the way.”

It’s only once you’re perched on the end of his bed, eyes roving over the minimal, clean space of his room, that your nerves start to betray you. Yoongi sets his drink on the dresser next to yours, then drops down beside you.

You stare at the floor, unsure of what to do next, vaguely aware of his bent knees poking out of the large holes in his light wash jeans. He gently rests a hand on your thigh, and you’re wound up enough that you flinch at his touch.

“We seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask, feigning ignorance and trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Might have something to do with the fact that this is the first one-on-one conversation we’ve ever had.”

You meet his gaze, a little surprised by the open expression on his face. You’ve always seen him as so reserved. “You don’t exactly say much.”

Yoongi shrugs like he can’t disagree. “Hard to get a word in with those guys sometimes.” He pauses, like he’s debating whether or not to keep talking, then continues. “And I figured Jin was playing some long game with you, so I was trying to be respectful.”

You make a face of sheer disbelief. “What?! Seokjin is my best friend, Yoongi. Period, end of sentence. It’s not like that and never has been.”

“Huh.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t read the expression on his face. You turn towards Yoongi, pulling one bent leg up on the bed to fully face him. “What was that noise supposed to mean?”

“That’s just… interesting.”

“Stop being cagey.” You drive a finger into his side and he squirms a little. “What’s interesting?” Does he know something about Seokjin that he’s keeping from you?

“Well, I was clearly operating under false pretenses. Otherwise I probably would’ve acted differently around you.”

“Differently how?” You quickly chase his vague statement, pushing him, trying to understand. Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately, but the bed shifts as he mirrors your position, turning to open himself up to you. “What would you have done, Yoongi?” You try again, getting frustrated.

A shiver runs down your spine as he brings a hand to gently cup your jaw, his touch feather-light. His thumb strokes over your cheek and you swear your heartbeat falters.

“This,” he says simply, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. And then he brings his mouth to yours.

His lips are soft and warm as they brush over yours, if a little tentative, like he expects you to pull away at any second. But the heat of his mouth ignites a spark in your belly that you’re suddenly desperate for more of.

You move your mouth against his, chasing the feeling as you bring a hand to the nape of his neck. Your fingers wind through his dark hair– you’d noticed when he walked in the door tonight how long it’s gotten, had thought absent-mindedly to yourself that it looked good on him.

Your head spins. Min fucking Yoongi. How is this real life? You’d honestly never thought twice about him– just lumped him in with the rest of Seokjin’s dumb friends. It’s starting to occur to you that maybe overlooking him was a mistake.

That suspicion is confirmed when he slips his tongue into your mouth to slide expertly over yours.

You run your other hand up his chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his overshirt, then the smooth cotton of the tank top beneath it. The wet heat of his mouth is already making you dizzy.

Yoongi brings a hand to the small of your back, moving the other from your jaw down to meet it. He shifts a little, but he doesn’t break away from you, and you gasp softly into his mouth when both hands drop to your ass to pull you into his lap in one smooth motion. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of him, your hips settling on top of his.

He kisses you for a second longer, tongue stroking over yours deftly enough that you can barely suppress the whimper it works out of you. Then he finally pulls back to glance up at you. His lips are full and pink, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. The unbuttoned linen shirt he’s wearing has slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin and solid muscle.

There’s a look on his face, mouth dropped open slightly, like he can’t quite believe this is really happening. You can relate.

“Still want to do this?” Yoongi asks quietly, voice still low and a little hoarse now. His hands are pressed to your hips, thumbs tracing light patterns over the fabric of your jeans.

You can hardly find your voice to speak– when the word comes out, it’s a whisper, and one you can’t say emphatically enough. “Yes.”

He tilts his head up towards you and your lips find his, needier this time. There’s an undeniable ache in your core now, desire spreading through you like a licking flame. Yoongi’s hands start to move over your back, dragging the hem of your shirt up, and you break away from him only for as long as it takes to peel it over your head. You press your mouth to his again before the fabric has even hit his bedroom floor.

Yoongi’s kisses are sloppier now, tongue tasting yours with added urgency, momentarily rendering you breathless. You follow his lead, hands grasping to push his overshirt down his arms, then reaching to tug at his tank top. It’s like you can’t move fast enough– you’re shaking a little as he leans back, raising his arms to allow you to pull it off. You feel the heat of his touch at the center of your spine, and then he’s slipping your bra off, too, everything tossed off the edge of the bed to join your shirt.

The brush of his hands over your bare skin, running up the curve from your hip to your waist, is enough to make you shiver under his palms, nipples tightening.

Yoongi licks his lips as his eyes roam appreciatively over your body, but then his gaze meets yours again, and in a way this moment of anticipation feels more intimate than anything you’ve done tonight. You in his lap, both of you naked from the waist up, faces flushed with heat and want. Hovering at the precipice of something you don’t have words for.

“Lay down for me,” he says quietly. The darkness of his voice thrums through you.

You do as he says, thighs shaking slightly as you slide off of him and move to settle against the soft pillows with a slow inhale. You can only watch, dazed, as Yoongi gets to his feet– you swallow hard at the sound of his belt hitting the floor. He slips out of his ripped jeans, down to just his black boxer-briefs.

When he crawls up the bed to join you, you’re transfixed by the way his silver necklaces dangle, catching the dim lamplight. He kneels to one side of you, hands coming to unbutton the fly of your jeans and push them down your thighs. You do the rest, peeling them all the way off and tossing them to the floor.

His hands slide up your thighs, one encouraging your legs apart while the other rubs gently back and forth, his touch sending sparks through you. You can feel your heartbeat at the center of your ribcage, swear you can see it in the rise and fall of your chest as you glance up at him looking down over you.

“Stop me if you’re going to come, okay?”

You nod your understanding, but he must be able to read the confusion painted on your face. He shifts up the bed to lean over you, his breath ghosting along the shell of your ear.

“Save it for me, and I’ll show you what that pussy can do.”

Yoongi chases the words with a languid stripe licked up your neck, and it’s enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Never in your life has a man preemptively warned you to not come. Most of them have struggled to make it happen at all. You can’t help but wonder if you really did underestimate Yoongi’s abilities.

It certainly feels that way as he continues to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, bringing one hand to gently cup and massage your breast as he goes, the pad of his thumb circling your nipple. His mouth catches up to his touch, and he sucks in the bud of that breast while his hand moves to work the other just the same.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you breathe.

Everything he’s doing is intoxicating, enough that there’s now a steady pulse emanating from between your legs. When he shifts to pull your other breast into his mouth, tongue swirling over your nipple in a way that makes you whimper and arch into him, he drops one of his legs down onto the mattress between your thighs.

You take advantage of the opportunity presented to you, thighs squeezing and hips canting up to drag your core over the smooth muscle of his leg, desperate for contact, for friction. Yoongi releases your nipple from between his teeth, giving a self-satisfied hum that you can feel buzz in his throat against your skin.

“Getting worked up already?” His words are punctuated by the kisses he trails down the valley between your breasts. “Keep going,” he urges.

Your mind is swimming with arousal, and each pass of your cunt over his thigh is enough to further dampen your now soaked-through panties. You’re not sure how much more worked up you could get. But Yoongi is clearly determined to find your limit.

When he shifts to move his mouth further down your body, he quickly replaces the thigh you’ve been grinding into with his hand, cupping over your center, his whole palm rubbing circles into the lace of your panties that make your clit twitch. You writhe under him as he sucks a mark into your hip bone, pulling sounds out of you: a mixture of heady groans at the welcome friction and soft whines at how indirect the pressure still is. You need more, more– you lift up to press your hips into his touch in search of relief. 

All too quickly, the motion of his palm stills, and you can’t help the strangled noise that escapes you. Both of his hands slip down your body, coming to rest at your hips, and his thumbs hook under your panties to push them down your thighs.

You fumble for a second, lifting your knees up to your chest to finish pulling your underwear over your ankles. As you fling your last article of clothing off the side of the bed and attempt to lower your legs down, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s hands pressing firmly into the backs of your thighs.

“Stay just like that,” he instructs, and you listen, crossing your ankles and following the encouragement of his touch to keep your legs pulled up, your bare cunt fully exposed for him.

You don’t know what to expect next– his fingers, maybe his tongue– but it’s certainly not what he does, which is look up at you and calmly ask, “How do you feel?”

Your answer is not a word in any language; it’s somewhere between a moan and a noise of pure frustration. Folded in half for him like this, you swear you can feel arousal starting to drip out of your pussy.

“That’s pretty good,” Yoongi remarks, lazily bringing one hand up to encircle your ankle in his grasp, enjoying his free rein over your body as it’s offered up to him. Even that gentle touch is enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. “But I think we can do better.”

You nod your head in a silent request as you watch him lean down onto the mattress, lowering himself to be eye-level with your pussy. “Haven’t even tasted you yet.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you gasp, and you can feel his breath over you, the heat and anticipation sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Just remember to stop me,” he warns, and then he leans forward to lick a thick stripe up your cunt. You cry out at the sensation, the wetness and warmth of his tongue sliding through your folds, and your head kicks back against the pillow as you feel his fingers gently part your inner lips for better access.

He pulls away for a fraction of a second, just long enough to hum softly and murmur “so fucking wet” under his breath. Your hands grip the bedsheets as he dives back in with even more enthusiasm, spreading you wide open.

The heat he’s been building up in you all night is coiling devastatingly tight in your core now– your head is spinning, your nipples so stiff that they ache. The thought of asking him to stop, and probably soon, from how deliberately he’s eating you out, feels nearly impossible.

Yoongi seems to settle in as he falls into a pattern with his movements: lazily circling your entrance a few times before delving in and fucking you all-too-briefly with his talented tongue, enough to make your walls squeeze greedily around him. After a few more thrusts he withdraws, using a long lick to drag your collected wetness up, his tongue pressing flat and heavy. When he reaches your clit he flicks gently over the sensitive bud a few times, eventually pulling it into his mouth to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Yoongi–”

You swear you can feel him smiling smugly as he returns to your entrance to start again, somehow both sloppy and precise, humming a little in a way that sends a devastating wave of vibrations through you.

He keeps everything so slow it’s nearly torture, building up the tightening pressure inside of you a little more with each pass, but purposefully never staying so consistent that you tip over the edge– just leaving you wet enough to drown in. You can’t stop the moans and whimpers he pulls out of you now, the way your hips jerk under his mouth.

He’s fucking good at this.

You lose track of how many times he goes through the process, until you’re wound so tight with arousal you think you might burst.

“Yoongi,” you whine, and he must be able to hear the change in your voice.

Yoongi’s mouth freezes, lips still wrapped around your clit. His hands move to your thighs, gently ushering your feet to return to the mattress on either side of his head, your legs still spread wide, so he can see you. He hums around you as if to ask a question, and your hips shudder beneath him.

That must be a good enough answer, because he pulls off of you, reaching up to wipe an errant strand of slick from his bottom lip. Everything about him in this moment makes your pussy throb: his mouth, nose and chin are all coated in your juices, the results of his efforts, and his pupils are blown black with lust and something that looks like determination.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you disappeared up the stairs together. Hours, maybe days. Yoongi certainly looks like he could do this forever.

“Gonna come?” He murmurs, nuzzling his cheek absent-mindedly against your inner thigh as he holds your gaze.

“I–” He hasn’t let you get that close yet, but you feel so fucking full, like your core isn’t capable of holding onto any more pleasure. “I can’t take any more,” you say, and the desperation in your own voice sounds so ridiculous to you that you let out a crazed laugh. “I’m gonna fucking die, Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” There’s a glint in his eyes, like he’s not going to let you tap out that easily. “What if I do this?”

His tongue returns to your clit, but this time he’s no longer teasing. His rhythm is consistent now, lapping against you in short, deliberate strokes, over and over. You can feel every muscle in your core tensing as he works you relentlessly towards your peak.

When your back starts to arch, it takes everything in you to say his name. “Yoongi,” you gasp, and he knows you’re about to come, must be able to tell by the way you start to shake underneath him. You cry out a sound that’s nearly a sob when he pulls back quickly and everything comes to a screeching halt. It’s like you can feel your orgasm being ripped out from under you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, hips grinding down into the mattress, desperate for any possible friction. “I’m so fucking close, Yoongi, please.”

His eyes linger hungrily over your pussy, the mess he’s made of you. Keeping his touch light, he gently traces a finger over your inner lips, clearly admiring the way it makes you tremble.

“Seems like you’re ready.”

You’d almost forgotten the point of all of this, the initial conversation in the kitchen, the fact that the man now lazily running a finger through your dripping folds is supposedly capable of making anyone squirt and that you are putting him to the test. You already believe it wholeheartedly– you’re just not sure you’ll survive long enough to see it.

Yoongi sits up, shifting to kneel to one side of you, hands encouraging your legs to spread even wider. When he starts to speak, you try as best you can to focus on his words, dizzy as you are with overwhelming need.

“I’m gonna press pretty hard, okay? When it feels like you have to pee, push it out instead of trying to hold it in. I promise, it’s not pee.” He pauses, laughing softly to himself, then adds, “And if it is, honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”

You look up at him, your mind reeling, and you’re not expecting it when he ducks down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs as he pulls back. “Just relax and let go. I’ll go until you tell me to stop.” Your heart flutters a little behind your ribs at the softness in his voice, and you nod.

Your breath hitches as you feel Yoongi’s hand return to your center, two fingers moving down slowly to tease at your entrance. The fire in your belly ignites at the soft squelching noise he makes as he circles, just shy of entering you, dampening his digits with your juices.

Relief washes through you as he presses in, and you tip your head back on the pillow with a soft groan. Your lashes flutter as you fight to keep your eyes open, heavy-lidded with lust, to watch him at work.

“Shit,” you hiss as he curls his fingers up to press against your front wall, finding your g-spot like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. He pushes harder, falling into a steady rhythm, and the pleasure feels like a heavy weight in your gut now. A tingling sensation starts to hum through your limbs.

You’re panting, nearly gasping for breath as he rubs against you, each thrust of his hand accompanied by the slick sounds of your cunt. Your abdomen tightens as the pressure in your core builds, and you really do feel like you’re going to burst, overflow completely.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, “I–I’m– I’m gonna–”

“Push,” he reminds you, and you do just that as the wave crashes over you. A release like nothing you’ve ever felt before rips through you, and you’re so overcome by the feeling that it takes you a few seconds to remember to look down. Shakily tilting your head up, you see clear fluid gushing out of you each time Yoongi pulls back.

When he sees you’re watching, he withdraws entirely, bringing four soaked fingers to your clit to rub fast circles that make you moan loudly as your muscles spasm again. Without his hand there to block it, you watch as an unbroken stream of fluid rushes out of you, spraying over the sheets of his bed.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment just to focus on the feeling alone. “Oh my god.”

Yoongi makes a little noise of appreciation, fingers returning to your entrance, the wet sounds of your cunt now obscene as he pushes in again. “Fuck yeah. So fucking sexy.”

You arch up into his touch as he resumes the firm stroking of his fingers, pounding into your g-spot, hard enough to make your legs shake. When another wave of pleasure rolls through you, you don’t even have to think about it this time. Your body instinctively remembers Yoongi’s instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of you as you moan softly with each pump of his hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you gasp in time with his movements.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi rasps as he draws his fingers out again, and you hear him groan when he returns to your clit and easily works even more wetness out of you. “You just keep fucking coming. Gonna soak my fucking sheets.”

You can barely process what he’s saying. “M-more, Yoongi, please.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’ll give you more.” He adds another finger, driving the thrust of his hand deliberately into the weight at the center of your core, and the stretch only makes you come that much faster. Your pussy starts to quiver as he fucks you through it.

“Yoongiiiii,” you groan, dragging out his name as you squirt again and again. He keeps alternating, fingers slipping into you and working up more, then pulling out to press his hand flat against your whole pussy, rubbing indirectly over your clit. Wetness splashes out of you in endless spurts, soaking your cunt, his hand, the bed. It feels like you're coming for hours.

“No more, no more,” you finally gasp, and when you bring your hand to close over his wrist, Yoongi takes the cue and withdraws.

Your pussy, thighs, even the muscles in your ass are all trembling from overstimulation. As your knees drop in towards each other, you take a moment to let your eyes close, your pulse still racing. You feel absolutely spent.

You can’t believe you just did that. You had no idea your body was capable of such a thing. And before you can even think to stop it, you start to laugh, bringing both hands up to cover your face.

“Oh my god,” you manage to choke out between giggles, your voice muffled in your palms.

You’re vaguely aware of the mattress shifting beside you, and when you pull your hands away, Yoongi is seated next to you, running one hand gently over your arm. “Jesus, are you okay?” When you nod, he seems to relax a little.

“Yeah, but holy shit,” you gasp. “I should’ve taken you more seriously.” Your limbs feel like jello, your mind absolutely gone– you’ve officially been fingerfucked into oblivion. “I nearly died.”

“That was fucking insane,” Yoongi admits, looking mildly dazed himself. You follow his gaze across the bedspread, and your eyes go wide.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi,” you press a hand to your mouth, attempting to hold back more laughter, as you take in the extent of the damage. “Your sheets!”

A sizable wet spot has bloomed under your ass, right in the center of the bed and extending nearly half a foot down towards the end, clear as day against his gray-blue sheets.

“Why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Are you kidding?” He practically growls, free hand palming at the bulge in his briefs. “I’ll take watching you gush like that any day. I can sleep on the couch, I don’t give a fuck.”

It takes all the strength you can muster, given that your limbs still feel like they’re made of lead, but you manage to roll over onto your side to face him. You catch his working hand by the wrist with yours. “There’s always… my bed.”

“Yeah?” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Think your pussy can recover on the ride over?”

You laugh softly, glancing down at the mess he’s made of you, the lingering sheen from his mouth and your own fluids. “I’m honestly not sure. She might be out of commission.” You do your best to feign innocence when you meet his gaze again with a coy smile. “But my throat is very available.”

Yoongi is already reaching for his jeans. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word. 

Intimate. That would be a better choice. 

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering. 

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony. 

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy. 

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts. 

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go. 

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between. 

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company. 

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight. 

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off. 

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges. 

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter. 

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot. 

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are. 

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back. 

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses. 

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up. 

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.” 

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty. 

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is. 

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck. 

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself. 

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.” 

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night. 

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung! 

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing. 

You just lost all your tips for the night. 

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it. 

Fuck. 

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet. 

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know. 

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’ 

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it. 

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass. 

No one serves him but you. 

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you. 

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year. 

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath. 

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.  

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,”  he responded. 

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased. 

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you. 

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it. 

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink. 

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself. 

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.” 

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.” 

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” 

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.” 

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation. 

No one calls the Devil by his first name. 

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to. 

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives. 

No one except you. 

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is. 

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that. 

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in. 

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night. 

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker… 

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up. 

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath. 

The King of Hell. 

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end. 

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon. 

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging. 

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers. 

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully. 

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity. 

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive. 

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again. 

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well. 

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while. 

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was. 

And maybe he is. 

But not to you. 

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow. 

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him. 

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world. 

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you. 

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find. 

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos. 

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside. 

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor. 

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding. 

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system. 

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth. 

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing. 

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer. 

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.” 

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target. 

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own. 

Yoongi. 

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself. 

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real. 

And he looks like sin incarnate. 

Fitting. 

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you. 

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on. 

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved. 

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you. 

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises. 

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night. 

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse. 

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him. 

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”  

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate. 

“Yes.” 

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body. 

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.” 

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now. 

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening. 

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you. 

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant. 

Beautiful. 

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says. 

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you. 

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers. 

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you. 

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring. 

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear. 

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait— 

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse. 

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” 

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly. 

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’. 

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him. 

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides. 

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it. 

You’ve decided. 

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power. 

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years. 

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back. 

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club. 

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait. 

And apparently neither does Yoongi. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate. 

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil. 

You trust Yoongi. 

“That's a good girl.” 

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft. 

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people? 

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on. 

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get. 

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight. 

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent. 

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea. 

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh. 

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off. 

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?” 

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs. 

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you. 

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.” 

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. 

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge. 

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look. 

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded. 

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter. 

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip. 

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue. 

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.” 

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?” 

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get. 

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it. 

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt. 

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines. 

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before. 

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip. 

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him. 

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it. 

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.” 

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures. 

You’re the most powerful person here. 

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible. 

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know. 

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact. 

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets. 

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace. 

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them. 

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you. 

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else. 

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal. 

Perfect in every single way. 

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too. 

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back. 

Not yet. 

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling. 

Ever.  

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more. 

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence. 

There was only you. 

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows. 

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming. 

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance. 

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white. 

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need. 

It’s yours. 

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze. 

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented. 

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?” 

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?” 

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before. 

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. 

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.” 

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.” 

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him. 

You just know it. 

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless. 

You never expected anything like that. 

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years. 

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better. 

Because of you.  

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that. 

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly. 

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell. 

He was yours now. 

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.  

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Your friend and study buddy doesn’t notice it though. He rarely does when he’s in this mode, in the library or the classroom. He’s so competitive, mostly with himself, that he is almost singularly focused on his work. 

“Okay, I’ll be back in 20 with your Americano abomination. Oat milk.” He shakes his head as you laugh and give him a playful shove. 

“Go. Fetch my coffee, Jeon.” He gives you a wink and heads out. 

You and Jungkook have been in this library for the past six hours. And still have a few to go. 

It's your final year of graduate school—Physical Therapy for you and Exercise Science for Jungkook. You just applied for your dream fellowship five hours up the coast and you think you have a shot if these exams go well. 

You’re super focused when he returns, headphones in, music blaring, that you just nod and smile when he places the coffee next to you.

When you look up ten minutes later? Twenty? You notice one of the women from the other table is standing next to Jungkook. 

Even though he’s focused and a serious student, your friend Jungkook is kind of a fuckboy. Well, fuckboy lite to be fair to him. He has all the stereotypical trappings of one—motorcycle, his upper arm covered in tattoos, the earrings. But he’s selective about who he hooks up with because he can be. 

But no one person or thing holds his interest too long. You know this. He’s really upfront and honest with the women he hooks up with. But word is he fucks them dumb and they forget.

You’ve never asked for details. You’re not sure you want to know. As soon as you see her literally twirl a lock of her hair while talking to him, you struggle not to roll your eyes. 

You’re kind of immune to it now. Jungkook’s hotness. His reputation. To you Jungkook is partially still the wide-eyed 18 year old who sat next to you in Biology 101 and was too shy to even speak to you at all in your first few weeks, even though you had all the same classes. He’s your best buddy who once held a cool washcloth to your head while you threw up Jagermeister. Who pulled an all nighter to help you study for your organic chemistry midterm sophomore year. 

So when you look up and see his sly smile when he takes her number, that sinking in your stomach, it doesn’t mean anything. Just test stress. 

You probably just need another coffee. 

Though more caffeine doesn’t seem like the right answer to calm your pounding heart. 

—

“Breakfast at mine? I remembered to buy bagels before we got hammered yesterday.”

Jungkook nods, his face sweaty, dark, wavy hair pushed back in a sweatband. 

You and Jungkook are nearly at your apartment complex, at the end of a long, hungover run. 

Finals were three days ago and had gone really well. You’d submitted the final grades to the post-doc fellowship and then went out with your friends last night celebrating. Everything seemed to be falling into place after all these years of hard work. 

“Race you the last hundred yards.”

“Oh, dude, no. We fueled this run with pizza and like a gallon of beer. Each. I’m barely hanging on right now.”

He ignores you and with a wink and a shit eating grin takes off, shouting, “Let’s get it!”

And you can’t help but chase him. 

Jungkook tries to cut through the little flower garden outside your building, leaping over a tree stump. You avoid the plants and take the shorter route through the parking lot, narrowly missing someone pulling into a spot. 

“Hold the door!” you shout when you see your friend and fellow grad student Bowen walk out. 

Used to your shenanigans, Bowen holds the door open. Standing with his back to Jungkook, slightly blocking his way. Everyone in your building gets along really well, but you let Bowen do his laundry in your apartment for a week when they were working on the plumbing in his place, so he owes you. 

“Thanks, Bowen!” you screech as you race by, beating JK through the door by mere inches. 

“You two are crazy!” He laughs.

Now neck and neck in the lobby, you both bolt for the stairs to your second floor apartment. It’s an older building, just off campus, with questionable plumbing and a grand wooden staircase that you usually never use. Even with your slight lead and taking the stairs two at a time, Jungkook’s longer legs means he catches up just enough as you both careen around the corner. In a flat out sprint down the hallway, you reach your door at the exact same time.  

You fold in half, hands resting on your knees to try and stay upright while you catch your breath. Jungkook has slumped to the floor, his arm flopping dramatically over his eyes. 

“I deeply regret challenging you.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you lost, Jeon.” 

“I didn’t lose, I just won a little less than you.” 

“Dude, don’t make me laugh when I can’t breathe.” You’re gasping as you open your door. 

“I just need my legs to start working again.” He rolls over and starts to crawl towards your apartment. 

“You’re going to get rug burns on your knees if you do that!”

“That’s what she said.” He turns his head and calls out with a smirk. 

“What that doesn’t even—Oh.” You feel slightly embarrassed about missing the innuendo. Your normal banter is like this, why does it feel so awkward today?

He winks and finally stands up, following you into the kitchen.

“What time is your interview?” Jungkook has an interview for a part time personal training job to earn some money. Your grad student stipends are somewhat pitiful. 

“Not until noon. I’m not quite sure what to wear. I want to look like I’m a professional who knows what they’re doing, but also I have to lead someone through a workout.”

“I think you can just wear clean workout clothes? I mean your main qualifications right now are that you look like this.” You gesture up and down at him, trying not to look too hard at where his sweaty tank top clings to his abs. 

He raises an eyebrow at you and you clear your throat.

“You know—like a muscle pig.”

“Muscle pi—what!” His eyes open wide, his hand flies to his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I prefer gym rat, thank you very much!” 

You start to giggle at the look of incredulity on his face. “Well, I mean you could probably also count that you’re about to graduate with a doctorate in exercise science?” 

He considers this. “Nahhh, it’s probably the gym rat thing.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Well, then you should do just fine, no matter what you wear. What’s the name of this place again?”

“The Ranch.”

“The Ranch! That big place out on Route Seven?” You turn to him, surprised, as you place your moka pot on the stove. 

“Yeah, it’s a private wellness retreat.” 

“Huh. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” 

“Jungkook, you’ve heard the rumors that everyone there gets happy endings with their spa treatments.” 

He looks shocked and with his eyes wide, mouth open enough to reveal his teeth, you see a flash of Freshman Orientation Jungkook.

“What? No! Everything about it looks so fancy, so nice and, like, respectable.”

“It is fancy, so like bougie ones. Gucci happy endings.”

“Well…” His shocked expression has turned into a smirk. “That’s also something I am very well qualified in.”

You roll your eyes again, partially in exasperation and a little because you need to look away from him. That feeling in your stomach kicks up again. 

The coffee pot lets out a burst of steam.

“Well, hand me a mug, lover boy. Either way you’ll need to keep your stamina up.” Oh, why do you just keep stepping in it with him today. 

The smirk grows as you pour coffee in his cup. “That’s also—”

“Nope! We’re done with this now.” You turn to the fridge to get bagel fixings. “I’m sorry I asked. Now. Do you want cream cheese or butter on your bagel?” You turn back to look and he has an odd expression on his face, the smirk is gone, his mouth turned down a little. 

His frown flies away as he starts to tease you again while you reach into the bag of fresh bagels.

“Butter on a bagel? That’s even worse than the oat milk! Cream cheese! Always!” 

“Do you want it to—”

He scrunches his face up. “Don’t even say it! Just give it to me!” He reaches for the bagel and you pull it away from him, trying to hold it above your head. He’s tall enough that you can’t really keep it away from him. He’s just teasing you as you play keep away.

“Ewwww, you’re so sweaty and gross! Stop touching me!” 

“You know what’s gross? Toasting a perfectly good bagel!”

With that his hand alights on your hip, touching down for just a beat before he pokes you in the side, making you giggle and lower your hand. 

He places the bagel in the crook of his arm like a baby. “Don’t worry bagel, you’re safe now. Until I eat you.”

You’re cracking up now, shaking your head. “That’s what she said.”

Jungkook looks up, a bit surprised, but with a huge grin. “That’s my girl.”

You watch as he gives the bagel a little sniff he frowns as takes the first bite. Your heart is racing again. You thought it had come back down after that race. Maybe time to switch to decaf? 

He winks at you with a mouthful of bagel and raises his coffee mug to cheers with yours. 

Yeah, probably not the coffee.

——

You groan as Jungkook presses a little harder. 

“Oh my god, right there, yaaaaahhhh!”

“How are you this tight?” Tension creeps into Jungkook’s voice. 

“It’s all that stupid running!” Your fingers curl into the couch cushions as Jungkook presses his thumbs into the ball of your foot. You got a cramp running this morning and your foot has been sore all day. 

“Yeooowwch! Jeon! Ugh!” He hits a really sore spot in the arch of your foot.

“You guys are gross. It’s like listening to the world’s worst porno,” your friend Lucy pipes up from the floor in front of the sofa. You’re supposed to be having a movie night but she paused the film to complain. 

“It’s especially nasty cause you keep going back and forth between like sex noises and medical facts,” Bowen chimes in. 

“What? I was just saying that it might not be muscle cramps because plantar fasciitis is ligament inflammation, rather than—”

Lucy makes a retching sound. 

Jungkook sighs and you suppress a laugh. 

“Keep going, Kookie. I’ll tone down my moans.” You’re full on giggling now, while Jungkook looks a little embarrassed. 

“I just want to practice my massage techniques more for work. A lot of clients need it after a workout.”

“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Lucy raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of beer.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!”

“Ummmm, because it’s true? My acupuncturist’s cousin spent the night there once and she was not working out in the gym if you know what I mean.” 

“Heh. Good one,” you snort. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Just put the movie back on.”

It’s then you realize he’s stopped massaging your foot and his thumb is just gliding up and down. His face has fallen a bit, his eyes downcast. Though it could just be the shadows from the bright TV screen. He’s just staring at your foot and when you wiggle your toes, he jolts a little. 

He gives you a little smile and your foot a gentle squeeze before he places it on the couch next to him. He pulls his legs up and faces the TV and Lucy turns the movie back on. 

You’re trying to read his expression. It’s not the first time your friends have teased the two of you for being too close and spending so much time together. But it’s so hard to tell with him. When Jungkook doesn’t want anyone to know how he’s feeling, he will shut down. You tell him he’s like a turtle retreating into his shell. 

You adjust in your seat, leaning away from him. You have to consciously do this, because you really just want to sit close to him, like you’ve done so many other times. But tonight you fall asleep on the arm rest instead of Jungkook’s shoulder. 

—— MARCH——

“_______? Are you in here? Why are all the lights out?” 

Jungkook opens the door to your apartment, a little worried about you. It was just a regular Tuesday, but his evening training client canceled. He’s been so busy lately with work and everything with school. He hadn’t had a free weeknight in months and he really wanted to see you. 

You were supposed to meet him outside the library so you could go have tacos and margaritas but you never showed and haven’t been responding to his messages. You’re usually early to everything and take a certain, competitive delight in beating him to places. 

“_______?” 

“Yeah. I’m here.” Your voice sounds thick. Sad. You sniffle. Are you—

Jungkook turns on the overhead light and you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your oversized hoodie. Jungkook notices it’s one of his. He must have left it here on one of hundreds of nights that you’ve hung out.

“Oh, I’m late for our dinner. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—I put my phone down after I—” The tears well again.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad—Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” 

You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheek. 

“No. No, it’s—” Your nose is sore and kind of runny. 

Jungkook sits on the couch. His instinct is to wrap his arms around you, to press you to his chest and give some comfort. He feels an overwhelming urge to kiss your forehead.

But your relationship is not like that. Well, he doesn’t think it is at least. You joke and play around all the time, you fall asleep on his shoulder sometimes during movie night, but you’re not really touchy-feely friends like that. Even though he wants to be right now. So badly. 

He settles for placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, you can tell me. Do I need to beat anyone up?”

You laugh a little at this, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“I—I didn’t get it. I didn’t get the fellowship.” Your face crumples at this admission, fresh tears falling. 

“Oh, shit, _______. I’m so sorry. I thought everything was all set.”

“I thought so too. I just must have been wrong. About a lot.” 

“You’re not. You’re the best. You always know everything.”

You shrug, face crumpling. Jungkook flexes his fingers on your shoulder and you lean into his touch a bit.

“Just take some deep breaths. I’ll breathe with you, okay?” He tries to make his voice as gentle as possible. 

You nod and more tears fall. Your lips are pursed together like you’re trying to hold something in. 

Jungkook takes a breath, and slowly moves his thumb up your arm at the same time. Gliding it back down when he slowly lets it out. 

He can see your face start to relax, your lips aren’t as tense. Jungkook continues for who knows how long, until the tears stop and your shoulders drop a bit. 

“Thanks.” You sound so small, so unlike you. One of the things Jungkook loves about you is you stand your ground and take up space. In almost any scenario. Even when you’re not speaking, your presence carries weight. At least it does for him. 

It pains him that anyone or anything could make you feel less than. But he doesn’t really know how to say this to you, his strong, brilliant friend. 

So instead he says: “Come on. We’re going out.”

“What? Out? I want to stay home and feel sorry for myself. I bought three pints of ice cream.” Now you’re pouting which is actually a good sign. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and walks to the door. 

“Nope. I know just where to take you.” He is standing now, putting on the energy he usually reserves for tough workouts, to help himself and his clients power through. The grin on his face grows. 

“Ugh. No. I want to take a bath and wallow.” Your building is old and the plumbing is unreliable but some apartments have the original clawfoot tubs in them. Perfect for soaking in your sadness. 

He glares at you. “_______.”

You pout back. “Kookie.”

He raises an eyebrow and you crack a smile. He takes that as an opening. “I promise it will be better than that. So come on. Let’s—”

“Stop! Okay, okay. I’ll go, but you tone down that enthusiasm!” You give him a side eye and he sees a hint of a smile. Perfect. 

He pinches his lips, squeezes his eyes closed, and whispers, “Lesssss geddd it”.

A true laugh bubbles out of you and Jungkook beams. There you are. 

“I’d ask if you needed to get a jacket, but that hoodie looks awfully familiar.” He gently pokes you with his elbow as you close the door behind you. 

“Yeah, well, finders keepers, losers weepers, Jeon. Wait, where are we going? It’s not that cold out?”

“It might be a little now that the sun is down…”

“You’re not going to tell me? Are you?”

He shakes his head. “Nope!”

—

“Ohhh no. Absolutely not. No thank you!”

“Come on! It will be fun.”

“Kookie. Whyyyyy?” You whine as Jungkook takes your arm and drags you to the rollercoaster line. 

You’d forgotten it was the state fair this week. Because you never go to these kinds of things. You don’t like rides and are neutral about funnel cakes and cotton candy. And are just in a bad mood right now and nothing is going to—

“Just one ride? For me?” Jungkook is putting on a pout so exaggerated, so pathetically cute you can’t help but laugh. 

“Fine. Fine!” The heavy blanket of disappointment starts to lift just a bit.

—

“I hate thiiiiiiss!” You scream as the coaster goes down the first big hill. 

“I knowwwww!” He’s screaming next to you, absolutely loving it. 

When you stumble off the ride, so thankful to be on solid ground again, you can’t wait to go sit down somewhere. 

He looks at you, eyes wide. “Can I go again?”

You hold your hand out for his jacket. “I'll go get us beers while you go again.” 

He gives a little giddy clap. “Thank you!”

“I swear sometimes I think you are actually ten years old, Jungkook Jeon.”

“Byeeeee!” He’s off and running, basically bounding back to the line for the coaster.

After another ride he runs up to you and takes the beer you’re holding. 

“Cheers!” He clinks his plastic cup against yours. 

“Thanks, JK. This really hel—”

“Oh, we are not done.”

“We’re not?”

“Nope!” That giddy look is back in his eye as he leads you over to the Ferris wheel.

There’s no line, so before you have a chance to protest, you and Jungkook are squished together in a tiny pod.

“Kookie, why do we keep doing things involving heights that make me want to scream?”

“Ummm, it’s fun to tease you?”

“Tease me! We could—” you make the mistake of peering out the side window and squeeze your eyes shut and clutch harder to the seat. “Don’t let me do that again.”

He pats the back of your hand. “I know what might help.” 

He leans over a bit to whisper near your ear. His breath tickles the hairline, leaving a little trail of goosebumps. “Want to know a secret?” 

“Anything to take my mind off our imminent death.”

You hear him chuckle and are sure it’s accompanied by an eye roll. But when he speaks his voice is low and soothing. He places his hand over yours.

“We’re safe, ______. I would never let anything happen to you.”

You nod and squeeze your eyes tighter to stop the tears from coming back. To stop the emotions running up your arm from where his fingertips graze the back of your hand as he pulls it away. 

“So. You’re not wrong about The Ranch.”

One eye pops open and you look at him. His profile silhouettes by the bright carnival lights below. He’s staring out over the view, tongue flipping his lip ring around.

“Ex-squeeze me?” You all but squeak out. 

“You’re not wrong. It is a brothel too. A legal one. Obviously.” 

“Jungkook! What? How—What?!” 

“Yeah. I was shocked. I have to read the intake forms, check previous session notes for each client. And my client today, there was another intake form in her file for Personal Services.”

“Intake form?” You now apparently can only speak in a high pitched tone. 

He huffs out a chuckle. “Yeah, it had, umm, preferences? Safe word. And… encounter notes?”

“Notes!”

“I didn’t read them,'' he hastily adds. “I just saw the section.”

“Suuuure you did.”

“No, really. I shouldn’t have seen it to begin with.”

“Well, you were right. This really does take my mind off every thought I’ve ever had.” 

“Yeah. It was a little awkward to work with that client afterwards. I just kept worrying I would blurt out ‘tater tots’ while she was doing squats or something.”

“Tater tots? Oh my god! That was the safe word?”

Jungkook grimaces a little and you throw your head back and laugh. So hard that the pod rocks a little. You sit up straight and fumble around for his hand again. 

“It’s okay, _______. It’s okay.” The soothing voice is back. He squeezes your fingers and slowly pulls his hand away. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I mean, nothing? Keep doing my job? Everyone is nice and the money is so good.”

“I mean imagine what the other, uh, trainers are getting.”

“Yeah.” 

“I mean, you’re not going to. Are you?”

The wheel lurches with a stop and you’re back at the bottom of the wheel. The attendant opens the door. 

The ride is over. 

He walks ahead a little towards the food stalls.

“Fried dough?” 

“With powdered sugar?”

“Finally, you get it right. I knew I could teach you good taste.” He grins as you swat at his arm.

You still don’t like heights but you feel lighter. Hopeful. Jungkook knew exactly what you needed. Any thought of what’s happening at his work flies away as he hands you a piping hot piece of fried dough with a huge smile. 

——MAY——

You can barely hear Bowen over the thumping beat of this house party. 

“Why are we here? Is this a frat house?”

“We’re here to reclaim our youth before we graduate as overeducated, underemployed quasi-productive members of society.” 

“What?”

“Cause I wanna do shots!” Lucy shouts into your ear. 

You laugh, you’d all pre-gamed tonight, a throw back to your younger years. Graduation was in a week and you all wanted to go out with a bang. But you’re sure when the massive hangovers hit tomorrow, you’ll all be happy to lay low for a bit. 

Jungkook is the only one who wasn't there at the pre-game. He’d texted that work was running over but that was hours ago. 

You mingle, Bowen brings you some jungle juice; Lucy finds shots of something that are terrible and remind you of crappy freshman year parties. 

You’re wandering around looking for some water and a place to sit—god, you really are an old grad student—when you see Jungkook by the front door. He’s resting back on the wall, nursing a beer, and observing the crowd. 

He looks gorgeous. You’ve had enough to drink that when the thought pops up, you don’t push it away. His hair is dark and curly, it looks a little wet, maybe from a shower after work. His lips are pink and full. And they bulge forward a bit as pushes his tongue out a bit to flick at his tongue ring.

His eyes look dark, maybe it’s the light, maybe it’s his expression, observing, assessing. And then they land on you, they open a fraction wider. A smile creeps onto his face as he leans his head back against the wall. 

“Hey! What’s with this whole slouchy, wall leaning, glowy thing you have going on? You get laid or something? It’s only 10pm.”

Jungkook tried to swallow over his smile. He’s staring at the ground and mumbles something. “—ook, lie ent.”

You can barely hear him over the pounding music.

“What?!”

He stares at you. Hair wavy and still a little damp. His eyes sparkle a bit. He leans forward, his hand on your shoulder, his lips touch the skin of your ear. 

“I took a client.”

“A cli—” you start to question when you realize what that means. You want to cry. You want to laugh. You’re a little turned on. 

He took a client.

“Well, fuck me. Or I guess technically, fuck you?” You’re laughing, you’re drunk and might be hysterical. 

He bites his lip trying to hold back a grin. 

The laughter is subsiding, your heart is in free fall. You try to swallow the tremor in your voice. 

“Umm, what does that mean?”

“It means I don’t need to worry about my student loans.” Now he’s laughing, head back, eyes closed, exposing his throat. 

From a distance you could be any other woman on this campus shooting their shot with Jungkook Jeon. Not someone whose unrequited love just ran right into a brick wall. 

That realization lands with a bang in your chest.

All this time he’s been your best friend, all the other women came and went. Quite literally. But he always came back to you. His friend, his confidant.

What will happen now? 

All these feelings riot in your chest moving up your throat. But you can’t let them out. You can’t even seem to get a full sentence out now. 

“How so—oh! How mu—I mean, ahem, what about personal training?”

“Oh, I’ll still do that too. I guess? Not everyone there is, uhhh, that kind of client. I don’t know how it will work.”

You’re opening your mouth but nothing is coming out. It’s not the job necessarily that has you feeling flustered. It’s obviously not that he has sex. 

It's the implication that he’s good at it. Good enough for people to pay. A lot.

Be supportive, he is your friend. And you care so much about him and his happiness.

“Well, cheers, I guess? Jungkook Jeon, notorious campus fuckboy, goes pro.” You raise your glass and tap it against his as he grins. You hope he doesn’t see how your hand shakes.

——SIX MONTHS LATER——

“Oh hey.” You turn from your bowl of ramen to greet Jungkook as he walks unannounced through the door. 

He smiles, you can see his eyes crinkle behind his long hair, still damp from the shower he probably took at work. He hangs his duffle bag near the front door. 

“Want some ramen?” You nod your head towards the container as you take a mouthful of noodles. 

The grin gets bigger. “Always.”

Steaming bowl of noodles ready, Jungkook joins you on the couch as you click on the TV and he wordlessly puts on a movie you’ve both seen before. The two of you settle into the couch and eat in companionable silence. 

This has been your regular routine for the past few months. He often spends the night at The Ranch, but if not, the two of you still come and go from each other’s apartments like you did in school. 

You’d mostly moved past the sting of rejection from the dream fellowship. Your professor had offered you a spot teaching for your old program, plus you had work at a local clinic. 

It wasn’t exactly what you wanted but was pretty good overall. And you have a home and friends and a life here that made it easier to stay. 

“Oh, hey, the super called, they’re going to replace the pipes or something in my apartment line, so I won’t have a working shower next week, can I use yours?” 

“You know, any time you want to use my bathtub you can just ask.” Jungkook takes a huge mouthful of noodles. 

Jungkook’s bath tub is much bigger than yours, basically soak tub size. 

You drop your chopsticks and give a giddy clap as he shakes his head and smiles taking another big mouthful. 

“I’ll even bring you some fancy bath stuff from The Ranch, if you’d like?” 

He rarely talks about his work there. And you never ask. You wouldn’t even know where to start. So… how was all that fucking today? 

And did you really even want to know? Every time your thoughts or emotions even touch on Jungkook’s work, you push it all aside. You nod and smile when he offers any little tidbit. You could be a supportive friend, but you did not need details.

“Sure. I’d like some ‘high-end wellness’ action myself.” Well, shit. That did not come out the way you intended. 

You glance over and Jungkook is staring at you with wide eyes, pressing his lips shut. One look at you and he’s sputtering out a laugh and you quickly follow. Wiping the tears from your eyes. All this feels so normal, so does the little flip flop in your stomach when you see him, when you make him laugh. 

Another thing you brush aside and try to forget. Especially with his job, you can’t. You just can’t go there. 

—

Two nights later you let yourself into Jungkook’s apartment with the spare key he left at yours. He’s at The Ranch tonight and maybe tomorrow? You can’t remember. Keeping up with your own post-doc life is enough effort. 

He’s neatly stacked a pile of bath bombs next to the tub. There are some unlit candles on the counter and around the tub. The towels smell really good, though everything in Jungkook’s apartment smells nice, the towels, the bath mat, even the couch. It’s so tidy, it always has been. It all makes you feel like you are having a bit of a spa experience. 

You light the candles and start the bath running and peel off your clothes. You had clinic today and were on your feet for nearly 8 hours. You throw in the bath bomb and groan when you step into the hot water. 

You close your eyes and let the rising steam and rushing water relax you. It’s so rare that you’re not doing something, and baths are one of your true indulgences. And whatever is in that bath bomb is divine. You need to ask Jungkook if you can take some more of them. 

You’re so relaxed, you don’t hear the front door over the rushing water… or Jungkook walking down the hallway. No, you don’t hear Jungkook at all until he’s opening the door to the bathroom. 

You jolt up, shocked. His headphones are on, music blaring, he’s reaching for one of the drawers under the sink.

“Jungkook!!“ You screech. His eyes snap to yours, jaw dropped, as you slap your arms across your body as an afterthought. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t see anything!” He shouts as he takes the headphones off and fumbles for his phone to turn off the music. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were working.” You’re clutching your arms, shoulders up around your ears. 

“I am—I was—I mean I’m going back. I needed something and came home to get it.” His eyes are still closed. 

“Oh, okay.” Your adrenaline levels are slowly dropping. “You just scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry!” He cringes a little. “I’ll just get it and go.” He starts patting along the counter with his eyes still closed. 

“It’s okay, Kook, I’ll just—” You slide back under the water. 

He quickly opens a drawer and grabs a box of something. “It smells so good in here. Is it one of the bath bombs? I’ve never actually used one.”

“Yeah, thanks, Kookie.” Now that you’re somewhat covered up, the hot, scented water is helping you relax again. “They’re really nice.”

He looks into the mirror above the sink and catches your eye for a second. 

“Okay.” He looks away quickly. “I’ll just—-um, see you later?” He basically leaps out of the door, but then closes it very softly behind him. 

You close your eyes, and scrunch up your face. Your heartbeat is slowing down, but geez was that awkward. He’s seen you in a bathing suit many times over the years, it’s the same, right? 

There is something else to it though. Excitement. The teeny, tiny thought in the back of your mind that you wouldn’t have minded so much if he did see something. 

You sigh, making little ripples in the sudsy, scented water. You can’t think this, can you? This stomach flipping, giddy feeling just keeps growing with him. And the more you try to push it away, the more awkward it makes it with him. The more burden on your friendship, which you cherish and rely on. 

So no, you can’t think this. And you shove it into a corner of your heart with all of the other feelings for Jungkook you keep ignoring. 

——

“So, Jungkook walked in on me in the bath the other night.”

Lucy nearly chokes on her coffee. The two of you are walking her dog, Mr. Wigglesworth, through the park. 

“I’m sorry? He did what now?” Even Mr. Wigglesworth looks back and gives you a bit of a side-eye at that one. 

“The shower was out in my apartment, so I used his tub. He brought me some fancy bath stuff from The Ranch. I didn’t think he’d be home…” You shrug and she gives you an eye roll. 

“You two are the Ross and Rachel of our friend group.” 

“Well—It’s just—Wait, Ross and Rachel? I didn’t watch that show. What even happens with them?”

Lucy lets out a sigh. “Will they? Won’t they? You know. Friends who have so much sexual tension you could cut it with a knife.” 

“Oh. Well, do we? I don’t think we do.”

Lucy snorts. “Okay. You need to get your eyes checked and your ears and your coo—”

“Ha! All body parts are working just fine, thank you very much!” She chuckles in response. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Plus, that would be…” You stop yourself before you say ‘impossible.’ None of your other friends know that Jungkook is taking a slightly different type of client at The Ranch. 

“He just gives you this look sometimes. When he thinks you’re not looking.” 

Surprise and a little embarrassment ring through your body. “A look?”

“Like—his eyes get this kind of mischievous sparkle and then he gives you The Eye.”

“The what?”

“You know. The I-wanna-have-sex-with-you look.”

“First of all, Jungkook looks that way at everyone, it’s his Resting Fuckboy Face.” You do not add that he probably gets to practice that face a lot these days. 

“I mean, that’s fair actually. Though since we graduated, he’s really toned it down. None of us are partying like we used to, but I don’t even know if I’ve seen him with anyone in the last few months. Is he seeing someone?”

“I don't think so? Maybe he’s just focused on work?” The irony of this discussion is not escaping you. 

“What about you? If Jungkook is really just a friend… what ever happened with that guy from the gym?”

“Oh, he actually asked me for my number.”

“What did you say? ‘I can’t, I’m in love with my best friend and don’t know what to do with myself.’”

“Lucyyyyy,” you whine. “That’s not—Jungkook and I are friends.” You pause and she doesn’t say anything. You glance over and she’s giving you such a kind look, her eyes tinged with concern. All those feelings peek around the corner, wondering if you’ll finally tell someone about them. 

“Plus, in any situation, I have no interest in being added to his tally.” Your voice is so soft, if you speak any louder you might cry. 

“I think if you two ever hooked up, you’d be the last one on that list. For a very long time.”

That feeling is back, your ears feel hot. Your heart is pounding. You can’t even respond to that. 

“Maybe I should text gym guy back?”

Lucy gives you another long look. “I think you should do what makes you happy. Oh! Mr. Wigglesworth! No!” Her dog has spotted a squirrel and is trying to chase it, taking you and Lucy with him. And true to his name, his whole little furry body wiggles with excitement. 

You silently thank Mr. Wigglesworth for the out from that conversation. But what Lucy said sticks with you for the rest of the day. And when you see Jackson at the gym the next morning, you ask for his number. 

——

“Hey! Let’s go watch the new MCU movie!” Jungkook walks into your apartment, shouting. 

The two of you are mostly back to your regular routine, any awkwardness from the bathtub incident a few weeks ago is gone. Well, at least from Jungkook’s perspective. Though his way of dealing with it has been to pretend it never even happened. 

“What?” you shout out from your bedroom. 

“I said, wanna go to the movies?” He’s yelling as he walks down the hall to your room. “The new Marvel one—”

When he reaches the doorway, he stops short, taking in the sight of you. But this time it’s for what you have on: a dress that hugs your body just right, your hair done, your carefully applied eyeliner. 

“The new Marvel? I can’t follow along cause, I haven’t seen the others.” 

“Haven’t—” he splutters, temporarily forgetting about how insane your body looks in this dress. “Haven’t seen the others?! You watched them all with me!”

“I did—oh! Yes! Sure! Of course! I mean—riveting. Really great stuff!” 

“Oh my god! You slept through all of them, didn’t you?” He is incredulous.

“Ummmm—” You glance over your shoulder and give him a sheepish grin. It takes all his willpower not to stare at your ass as you lean forward to put your earrings in. He can see the faint outline of your panties and wonders what they look like. Jungkook, stop it. Focus.

“Ugh. Okay. Well, I can catch you up on the drive and then promise you’ll—Wait. Why do you look like this? You have a presentation or something today?” 

“Like what? Like I actually made some effort?” You laugh and give him kind of an odd look. 

“Nice. You look really nice.” He feels timid now that he’s said something so lame out loud. He can’t recall ever commenting on your appearance. Or feeling awkward complimenting a woman’s looks. It’s basically a major part of his job. 

But you aren’t any woman and ‘nice’ isn’t the right word. You are gorgeous. And he’s known that objectively as long as he’s known you. But tonight, you look like yourself but with the volume turned up. And he is non-objectively very into it. 

“Thanks.” Your eyes open a bit at the compliment. 

“Will this be comfortable for the movies? It might be cold.” He needs to deflect away from this. You’re putting on a necklace and he’s using all of his willpower to not outright stare at you. 

“I can’t tonight, Jungkook, I have a date.” 

“Oh. Okay. I see.” Jungkook’s heart sinks a bit, What is with all of these goddamn feelings today? But before he can stop himself he asks, “With who?”

“I don’t think you know him? Jackson, from the gym I go to downtown.” 

“Ah, well, be safe, have fun, don’t stay out too late.” Shut up now please, Jungkook. He turns to leave. This is so disorienting, he has to go.

“Before you go, can you help me with this?” Your hands are fiddling with the clasp on this chain. “It isn’t closing right.”

“Um, sure.” Fuck. 

He stands behind you, he can feel the heat from your body, the smell of your perfume at the back of your neck. He keeps his focus on the clasp and not on how soft your fingers feel when his graze over them to take the necklace from you. 

He wants to press his face into your skin, lick up the side of your neck, bend you ov—

“There. All done. Okay, bye.” He cannot leave fast enough. And he’s gone before he can see the frown on your face. So maybe it hasn’t totally gone back to normal. 

—

He’s super early to the movie, so he just sits in the car for a bit staring at the steering wheel. He hadn’t considered that you wouldn’t be free. The two of you spend most weekend nights together if he isn’t working. 

Fuck, he is such an presumptuous idiot. He wipes a hand across his face, trying to clear out whatever he’s feeling. You’re smart and beautiful, of course you’re dating. Who wouldn’t want to take you out? He’s such a shit friend, he hasn’t even asked you enough about your life lately to know that you are seeing someone.

When he gets back from the movies later, he stops by your apartment, but right as he’s about to knock, he hears voices inside. That stupid sinking feeling is back. It could be the TV? It’s probably not. If he were on a date with you looking like that he’d have done anything to take you home. Stupid stupid stupid, Jeon. He goes upstairs to his apartment and gets into bed alone.

——

“Race you home?”

“What? Ugh. No.” 

You are nearing the end of a miserable run. Everything hurts. The weather is unseasonably warm for November, you’re overdressed and it’s making you sweaty and tired and grumpy. You only have a sports bra under this fleece. You feel good about your body and all, but aren’t into jogging shirtless on the campus where you are employed. 

Jungkook’s hair is pulled back into a ponytail, it’s so long these days. He pushes a stray lock back across this sweaty forehead as he frowns at you. His bottom lip starts to tremble and push out.

“Jeon. I am warning you…”

And then his lip is pushed out. The Jungkook pout in full effect. 

“Oh come on—”

He winks and he’s off, racing across the parking lot. 

You take off after him, but this fleece feels like it’s made out of lead. By the time you reach the garden feature at the start of the apartment complex, Jungkook is so far ahead, you slow down to just let him win, you just can’t be bothered. 

Until you see sweet Mrs. Cho get out of her car and pull a bag of groceries from the back seat. Her grandson, Roger, a medical student, also lives in your building and she comes over to cook for him every few weeks. 

Jungkook runs right by her on his way to the door and then circles back around to her car, offering to help with the groceries. She grins at him and starts loading him up with bags.

Now that you have a chance, you start to flatout sprint, racing across the courtyard, punching in the key code before Jungkook even closes Mrs. Cho’s car door. You kick down the door stopper for them and run up the stairs. 

You’re so wiped out you just sit down on the top step and wait for Jungkook to come into the building. After he helps Mrs. Cho into the elevator, she pats his cheek and he gives her one of his bashful grins. Then he turns and he spies you at the top of the stairs and starts taking them two at a time. 

He looks like a gazelle leaping up. You knew Jungkook was fit, but holy shit. Technically you’re not at your door, so you stand and start to run down the hall. Jungkook gets there two seconds after you, nearly crashing into you, grabbing you by the waist as he groans in defeat. 

But then he doesn’t let go. He bends over, panting, just at the perfect level that you can feel his breath on your thighs. You’re so sweaty and hot, you do not need to be wetter anywhere else. But this is making you really flustered, your breath still coming in short spurts. 

You’re fumbling with the door lock, why does it seem so hard to use a goddamn key? You’re having a really hard time catching your breath. Maybe it’s your best friend resting his hand on your hip as he stands up. 

Finally the lock clicks and you stumble through the door, Jungkook’s hands falling off your waist. Your feet are still dragging, that run must have really… the edges of your vision start to get a little dark. Oh no, oh no—

“Kookie? I’m—” You’re trying to talk but aren’t sure if the words are coming out right. 

You black out. 

When your eyes blink open, you don’t know how you got on the ground or why your head hurts so much. But you’re lying on something warm and soft, like your head is being cradled. Are those sirens? Everything sounds like it’s underwater. 

“________? Can you hear me?” You look up a little bit more and Jungkook’s face is hovering above you. 

As you come to, you realize that warm feeling is him, he’s on the floor with you in his arms. 

“The paramedics are en route to check you out, okay? Does anything hurt?”

“My head.” Your mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. 

“Okay, love.” He strokes his thumb up and down your arm. “They’ll be here soon.”

It takes a minute for that word to land in your brain. And then your head isn’t the only thing pounding. Before you can say anything, the paramedics come in, checking your blood pressure, heart beat. Everything is so hazy. 

“Sir, can you tell us what happened with your girlfriend?”

Jungkook doesn’t correct them, he starts to tell them about the run.

“Did she hit her head at all?”

“No, I caught her in time.”

He caught you. 

You close your eyes at this and swallow down the feeling that is rioting in your heart.

Jungkook helps you sit up so they can examine you. He sits right next to you holding your hand as they check your neck, eyes, and blood pressure. Since you’re otherwise relatively healthy, the paramedics tell you it’s dehydration exacerbated by the run and the heat. Eventually they bring you down to the ambulance to run an IV to help and you feel almost immediately better. 

Jungkook is by your side the entire time, holding your hand. His thumb gently glides over your skin when they put the IV in. 

This is the most exciting thing to happen at your apartment complex in years, so all your other friends and neighbors come by offering help and things to make you feel better. Lucy brings breakfast. Mrs. Cho and Roger bring plates of mandoo. Bowen sets up a little pillow nest on the couch and gets your Netflix queue ready. In all the fuss, you don’t notice Jungkook slip out until your phone buzzes. 

🍪: I had to go to work. I’ll be back to check on you later. [10:25]

You: I’m okay Kookie don’t worry about me [10:27]

🍪: …

🍪: …

—

Jungkook comes back around eight. His hair is wet and he’s in one of his big hoodies. He wordlessly joins in your movie marathon, sitting right next to you on the couch. He smells incredible, like laundry detergent and his cologne, and something else you can’t quite place. 

You fall asleep against him and wake up in the same spot you were this morning, in his arms with him gazing down at you. But this time, he gives you a soft smile. 

Your heart lurches so hard you think you might need the paramedics back. You sit up quickly to orient yourself. 

“You feeling okay?” He whispers. 

“Yeah, ummm. I’m just going to go to bed.” 

Lucy pauses the movie when you speak. 

“Thanks, everyone. For taking care of me.”

Bowen squeezes your knee. “Glad you’re feeling better.” 

You nod and smile at Lucy, but you can’t turn back and look at Jungkook. Your desire to just wrap your arms around his neck and snuggle up to him is so strong, you need to get out of here. 

You wake up really thirsty at 3am. Your friends have done all the dishes and cleaned everything up and the living room is dark and empty. Except for the couch, where Jungkook is asleep. His hoodie is up over his head, a blanket around his feet. You pull the blanket up higher, so it covers his shoulders, and go back to bed. 

When you wake up in the morning, he’s gone. 

——

Jungkook’s thrusts become more and more erratic as he’s about to come. He just needs to hold out a little bit longer since his client, Isabella, is on the cusp of her third orgasm this hour. He’s never made someone come that much in such a short time and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make this happen. 

The client is moaning under him. He pushes his thumb into her mouth and she sucks as hard as she sucked his dick two hours ago. He pulls it out with a pop and starts pressing and pulsing against her clit. 

He knows just the right pace, just the perfect angle and then she’s coming. He can feel her pulse and clench around him again, and he can finally let go, spurting hard into the condom. 

Jungkook waits until her breathing slows before he pulls out, lying down on the pillow so she can put her head on his shoulder. 

“Holy shit. I mean, fuck me.”

“Just did,” he winks at her. 

She grins and gives him a lazy high five.

They stay like this a bit longer, idly chatting. This part of the job was hard at first for him, the clients who wanted to chat at any time during their experience. Introverted by nature, talking with people he didn’t know well was much harder than fucking someone he just met. He did that all the time. But now it’s one of his favorite parts, getting just a little glimpse into someone else’s life, making a small connection beyond sex. 

Isabella’s eyes start to flutter after a bit. 

“Take all the time you need. I’m going to shower and then I’ll draw your bath okay?”

Her eyes are closed, a peaceful smile on her face. Another satisfied customer.

Isabella has a half day package and Jungkook knows just what kind of aftercare she likes. Snuggles, hot bath, and then to nap alone. When she wakes up, a snack will be waiting. A perfect afternoon. 

He tries to peel the wrapper off the bath bomb. Muttering curses under his breath, all his muscles are no match for this thin piece of plastic. 

He finally gets it off, feeling nearly as triumphant as he just did with Isabella’s third orgasm. And then the scent of the bath bombs hits him—ylang ylang and bergamot. An image of you pops into his head unbidden. Your eyes closed in the candlelit bathroom, your breasts floating in the water, nipples peeking through the bubbles. 

Fuck, you looked so wet and juicy. He could barely process it then because when you jolted up, covering yourself, he felt so bad for walking in on you. He takes in a deep breath, the scent wafting around him and—

“Oh, hey there, ready to go again so soon?” Isabella saunters into the bathroom wrapped in one of The Ranch’s bathrobes. 

“What?” Jungkook is so startled. 

She just glances down and Jungkook realizes he’s half-hard. 

“Well, I mean, if you want to?” He tries to play it off. 

“Hmmm, maybe another time, Mustang.” She pecks his cheek and Jungkook holds out his hand to help her into the bath. “You wore me out.” 

He just smiles and nods as he leaves the room. 

When he gets back to his private quarters he just sits on the edge of the bed. He’s supposed to be prepping for his evening client. Resting and hydrating and reading their intake and doing some research on what they like.

But all he’s thinking about is you. You naked and underneath him. Him making you come three times on a Wednesday afternoon. 

He’s not supposed to cross these lines. His focus should just be on his paying customer and what they need, what he wants outside of his work, needs to stay outside. 

But even later when he’s showering, prepping the room, thrusting into another satisfied client, the scent of ylang ylang lingers in his mind.

——

“Hey, Kookie? Are you home?”

You knock on Jungkook’s door. 

It’s Taco Tuesday and it’s a special celebration because Bowen published his first peer-reviewed article. Jungkook is driving so you and Bowen can have all the margaritas. 

You actually haven’t seen Jungkook much over the last few weeks. He’d checked in by text nearly every day since you fainted but has been busy every time you suggested noodles or a movie. And then those check in messages stopped a few days ago.

There’s no answer, so you knock again. When he doesn’t reply, you try the handle and walk in. All the lights are off. 

“Hello? Kook?” You call out from the hallway. 

“In here.” His reply is soft, the tone flat. 

He’s sitting on the couch, legs tucked up with his arms wrapped around them. His head resting on his knees. All the lights are off, except for the multi-colored star lamp. He’s staring at the wall where the patterns shift and change. 

“Kook—Jungkook. Hey, everything okay?”

You know it’s not. You feel rooted to the spot, your heart heavy. Well, heavier than normal. It pains you to see him like this. What’s been going on the last few weeks? 

“I had a client today. A widow.” He clears his throat and flicks his lip ring. 

“Oh, wow. Shit.”

He doesn’t respond. He looks so somber. 

“Wait, was that like, weird?”

“It was fine. It was more than fine actually.” His demeanor dips slightly into that bravado you know so well, he licks his lips as the corner turns up into a smirk. “And Yoon—the manager. He vets everyone first and then I review them. I always have support. A way out. But I didn’t want or need one today.”

“Oh,” You idly wonder how old you’ll have to be in order to say what you want. To tell Jungkook how you feel. 

He shakes his head and looks almost wistful. 

“Also, let’s just say, in my, um, professional and personal experience, older women are more confident in saying what they want. Knowing what they like. And apparently that just increases with age.” A little smile ripples across his face and for a second he looks like he’s gone somewhere else. Back to that fucked out place that you can only imagine. 

“Okay. Then what’s up?” You slip off your shoes and hang up your bag. Moving slowly to the other end of the couch so you don’t startle him.

He clears his throat and the blissful expression evaporates. 

“She—her husband died a few years ago. And she has a new partner for the first time in a while. She wanted a refresher, I guess?” He shifts a little like he’s embarrassed. “Which, she really didn’t—I, uh, may have learned a thing or two today.” 

You smile at this. “Then why…”

“Her husband. They were best friends for years and never said anything. They didn’t get together until they were much older. Both were already married then divorced, kids and everything. And then he died a few years later. There one day, dead then next.”

Your heart struggles under the pressure of holding back how you feel about him. It's trying to ride on your breath to reach your mouth. To force its way out: ‘I’m your best friend and I love you.’

“Ah,” is all that comes out. “That is tough.” 

He looks at you then. Really looks. His brow is creased. This is a look of someone who is trying to move past someone else’s pain. 

When he speaks again his voice is so soft. “They could have had so much more time.”

You just nod. If you speak you’re not even sure you could control your words or your tears. 

He looks away quickly, staring at his hands and twisting them together.

“She asked me—she asked me who I had. If I had anyone who knows me.” His head is hanging now, his voice trails to a whisper. “Who loves me.”

You don’t know how to feel right now. Emotions shoot up through you like fireworks. 

“Oh. Do you?” The words come out as a whisper. Your whole life is hanging off what he says next. 

“Listen. ______.” He’s still looking at his hands. 

Why can’t he look at you? 

“_______, I don’t know how—” he turns and looks right in your eyes. 

“Why are all the goddamn lights off and the door wide open? Kook! Have you been murdered?” Bowen’s voice bellows through the apartment. “Please tell me. I don’t want to have to deal with the emotional trauma of finding your body. My health insurance isn’t good enough for that.”

Jungkook looks towards the door and mutters something you can’t hear. The pounding of your heart is too loud, the blood in your veins rushing so fast. 

Bowen sticks his head into the living room and sees the two of you sitting on the couch. The lights from the mood lamp twirling around the room. You look at him and open your mouth to explain. And Bowen puts a hand up. “You know what? I don’t care, Ross and Rachel. Let’s get out of here. Everyone is waiting for us.”

Jungkook is still staring at you. You can’t go back to that gaze, to that intensity in his eyes. You can’t do it without breaking. 

You suck as much air into your lungs as possible, stand up and hold out your hand out, trying to force a smile. You have to keep moving. 

He looks at your hand as he stands. Then he takes it and places a kiss on your palm. His lips are soft, the lip ring feels cool against your skin. He stays there for a beat.

Your heart. Your poor confused heart leaps. Just jumps out off the ledge towards him as he stands in front of you. 

“_______.” You could listen to him say your name forever. His voice is low, his eyes dark in the dim apartment, they move between your eyes and your lips. His hand moves to the top of your hip. 

“Jungkook—I—”

“I know, I know.” His voice is so soothing as he moves closer to you. 

Then Bowen’s voice bellows from the hallway. “Save your foreplay or therapy session or whatever this is for later. We gotta go.”

Jungkook smiles and scoffs a little laugh. 

“Actually, I don’t know anything. I don’t know a goddamn thing. I just know you. And I think you know me.” His hand comes up and cups your face. 

You nod, but the rest of you is frozen, the only parts of you that have any sensation are where his body touches yours. 

“And I know if I don’t stop now—” His hand feels like it’s shaking a little as his fingertips graze against your skin and slowly pull away. 

“Come on. Bowen will leave without us. And I’m supposed to be driving.” He gestures his head towards the door. 

All you can do is nod. That was so surreal, you’re not sure it’s even happening. What did just happen?

You follow him out. Into the car and to the restaurant. Everything has a dreamlike quality, like the air before a storm, even the light has an odd tone. But you must manage to act like a normal human for part of it because someone hands you food you presumably ordered. A spicy margarita just how you like them. You laugh and clap for your brilliant, published friend. But it feels as though someone is pulling puppet strings to get you to move. 

As the dinner goes on, you start to feel more and more agitated. You can’t get comfortable on this chair. Jungkook is sitting at the far end of the table—you were late and those were the only seats left. Every time you look over he’s looking at you. He smiles and laughs along with the group but his eyes keep coming back to yours.

And when they land on you, his face shifts. The smile is there, but his eyes change, there is something melancholy in them. Something sad but affectionate. 

Do you look the same to him? 

As the dinner starts to devolve into just drinking and laughing, the lights have dimmed, music started. You just want to leave. You can’t sit here any longer. You only took one sip of your drink, but your head feels so fuzzy. 

You glance at Jungkook and he inclines his head towards the door.

You nod and stand up and just walk out knowing he’s behind you. 

The ride back to your apartment building is fast. Or it feels like it, all of your awareness is honed in on Jungkook’s presence next to you. The heat from his arm, the way his fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel. His lips are almost pursed together, his brow knit. 

Neither of you speak as you walk up the stairs to your apartment. 

The lock doesn’t give you any trouble this time. You’ve barely dropped your bag and closed the door behind you when Jungkook is pressing you up against it. 

You’ve never been this close before or had an opportunity to look at the small mole on his lips, the faint scar on his cheek, the flecks of gold in his eyes. This is the first time you’re feeling the heat of his skin, his firm abs, his heartbeat beneath your hands. Your first time really getting to hold the body that houses the person you love.

He places his hand on your back and pulls you in so his body is molded to yours. One hand planted next to your head, the other moves from your low back to your cheek. The only air between your bodies is his breath on your lips. 

His lips are so close to yours, he whispers against them.

“I need to know you want this. Like I want you.”

Your body is liquifying, you have never wanted anything ever before, not compared to this need. 

“I do. Want you.”

And with that he’s kissing you or you’re kissing him. You don’t know when it started, who moved first. Where you end and he begins. His lips are so soft, pressing and tugging and caressing yours. 

It ramps up so slowly, pleasure rising, like Jungkook’s lips are calling it up your body. 

Your hands slide under his shirt and across his abdomen, a small whimper comes out when your fingertips drag across his abs. He laughs a little in response and you pull back. He’s wiggling his eyebrows when you meet his eyes and you roll yours. 

“Really, Jeon?”

He just laughs harder and then recaptures your lips with his. His hands hold tighter on your back dragging along your skin when you move to lift his shirt off. He reaches up and pulls it off with one hand.

You roll your eyes again and scoff, “Show off.” But inside you are dying, it is so hot.

He raises an eyebrow and bites his lip contemplating your expression. 

“Oh, you’re not impressed, baby?”

Baby? BABY. You are very impressed. You might orgasm if he touches you any more, that’s how impressed you are. But you just shrug. “It’s alright.”

“Huh. Is that so?” With a devilish grin, Jungkook leans down so he’s eye level with your thighs, gently pushes into your waist and throws you over his shoulder. 

“Jungkook! Ahhhhh! What are you doing?” You are laughing hysterically. “Put me down!!” But you can barely get the words out between giggles. 

He gives your ass a slap and you yelp. He starts carrying you towards the bedroom.

“I’m impressed! I’m impressed! Put me down!”

You’re squealing in delight as he gently places a hand behind your head and lays you down. Then he’s crawling over you, placing random kisses along your body. 

You feel lightheaded, a little from being upside down but mostly from him. Hands and lips are everywhere, under his shirt, in the waistband of your jeans. You can’t get enough of touching him, of tasting him. You glide your tongue over his skin, his neck, his chest, ending each run with a little nip to his skin.

You’re not even sure how all of your clothes come off or his, the two of you are all motion and giggles, unbuttoning, unzipping. 

With every layer removed, every article of clothing thrown carelessly on the floor, the brush of his fingers across your skin, you feel lighter. Free to let how you feel come out. 

When you’re bare and lying beneath him, the enormity of this crests over as his hand grazes across your sex. You’re so turned on it’s almost painful. 

Your arch into it, letting out a breathy moan. He slips a finger in and groans, his head falling to your shoulder. 

“Fuck, you are so sexy. I—” His finger starts to circle your clit and you grab into his shoulders in response. 

“Jungkook…” you sigh out. “Get a condom, Kook. Please.”

His hand doesn’t stop moving, pressing and swirling around your sensitive nub. You can feel his erection pressing into your leg, you’re restraining yourself from pushing him over and just humping him. 

“Are you sure?” The pleasure is growing between your legs, he’s making you feel so, so good. “I haven’t even made you—”

“Yes, fuck, whatever. You can do all that later.”

Jungkook snickers as he lifts to his knees. “Bossy.”

You scrunch up your nose, stick your tongue out and he shrugs. “I mean, I offered…”

You grin and have a snappy comeback on the tip of your tongue until you really take a look. 

The sight of him—it’s unreal. His whole body is chiseled to perfection. The tattoos running up his arm. You lose count of how many abs he has when you catch sight of the tip of his cock, so hard and pressed up against his stomach. You aren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve getting to see Jungkook like this, but you sure are fucking lucky.

As he starts to roll the condom on, you glance up at his face. His dark, wavy hair looks a little damp along his hairline. But his eyes. His beautiful, warm brown eyes make you feel like the breath is knocked out of you. His gaze is so loving, so kind. Is this just for you? How have you been around him all these years without seeing him like this? You love him so much. You want to tell him so badly.

“Hey there, you okay?” He slides a hand down your leg. 

“I’ve never ever been better.”

He grins and moves on top of you. His eyes briefly roll back as he slowly presses into you. When he’s fully seated you groan, your body fluttering and stretching to accommodate him. To welcome him in. 

“Hi.” He’s hovering above you, one hand brushing across your cheek. 

“Hi, yourself.” 

“You’re just so fucking beautiful. Why didn’t I ever tell you that?”

Your instinct is to deflect, with humor or teasing, even right now. But you don’t close off this time, instead you bring a hand to his cheek, mirroring his movements. 

“You’re telling me now.” And with that you roll your hips up and he lets out a deep groan. 

“Fucking hell, baby—” He stops talking and closes his eyes as he starts to move. 

Hands stroking, lips pressing, teeth biting, you can feel him all over you. The way he’s moving, how he finds every spot so perfectly and so fast. It just feels fucking good. You try to tell him this, but you’re not even sure if the words actually came out. 

All you can do is kiss every inch of his skin you can reach and grasp every piece of him you can get your hands on. To express how you feel with your hands and your mouth when your words are failing you. 

His thrusts get faster and faster, it pulls the coil inside you tighter and tighter. 

“Jung—Kook—Kookie, so close, I’m so close.”

And he stops. You let out a groan of frustration in response. 

“Okay, actually, baby, I’m so sorry.” He kisses you. “I need a second.” He closes his eyes and squeezes them for a bit, blowing air out through his lips. “You feel so fucking good. I can barely control myself.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper against his lips. 

He looks at you and you swear his eyes sparkle, the same way as they do when he challenges you to race home. 

And then with a mischievous grin, he rolls over taking you with him so you’re on top. You let out a giddy squeal, pressing your face into his chest. When you sit up, you feel so full, of his cock, of love for him. His eyes rake up and down your body and when they reach where the two of you are joined, you start rolling your hips, your wet pussy squeezing and stroking him. His back arches so fast your hands land on his chest to steady yourself as you keep grinding. 

“I—fucking hell—hold on, baby.” He grabs your hips and starts thrusting his hips up. You lean forward to grab the headboard. He wasn’t kidding, you really do need something to hold on to. 

“Holy—Kook. Don’t stop.” You try to bounce along with him, but you can’t match his pace, all of his gym time going to a very practical use right now. You grip the head board tighter. One of his hands moves from your hip to your breasts, kneading and pinching, his mouth sucking sharp marks in your skin, pulling on your nipples. 

You’re so close, so so so close. The pleasure building up like you’re slowly cranking up the first hill of a roller coaster. Everything is tensing, tightening.

“I can feel you, baby, I can feel you. Come for me. I want it so badly.” Jungkook pants out, his face looks strained with effort but he’s biting his lip over a grin. “Come with me. Now.”

He leans up and gives your left nipple a little bite and you break. Waves of pulsing contradictions roll through your body. Your cunt clamps down, your clit rigid and swollen, a rush of arousal flows over his cock. Your arms go stiff next to your tits still jiggling with his thrusts. Toes curling, legs like jello. You’ve never felt anything like it. 

Jungkook fucks you through it, holding you steady as you writhe and moan. He grips your hips so hard when he comes. His face is all scrunched up, frowning, like when he eats something really good. 

And when you float back down from your high, your face is pressed into his chest. Jungkook cups the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He slowly rolls over until you're underneath him, his cock is still hard inside you. 

“That was incredible, _______. You’re incredible.” He murmurs against your lips. 

You just kiss him. It’s slow and warm and loving. You're making up for all the kisses you held back, all the times you laughed, all the times you were worried, all the times he comforted you, all the times he watched you and thought you were so wonderful he could barely stand it. Now, right now, he finally gives you those kisses.

You slip out of bed to get cleaned up and when you come back into the room, he opens his arms wide and you practically run into them. He wraps them around you, peppering you with soft kisses as his hands gently roam your body. Gliding down your sides, pausing to caress your waist. And a kind of joy bubbles up inside you, all that love you have for him finally has some place to go. You smile against his lips, you can’t help it. He brings such lightness and ease to your life, he’s imbuing you with that through his touch. 

“What’s that smile for?” He’s grinning too. Trying to talk through kisses. His lips move across your face, nipping at your check, down the line of your throat. 

“Nothing. Just you, I guess?”

His hands glide over your neck and your chest. He’s not trying to turn you on again to go another round, though he’s certain he will always want more of you. He just wants the chance to touch you, to appreciate your body and to show he cares. 

His fingertip glides down the slope of your breast right to the tip, still stiff after your orgasms. He leans down and gives it a little kiss.

“Alright there, Kook? I need a break before we can go again.” You gently tease him. You almost add, ‘I’m not a professional.’ Until you remember that he is. 

What that even means in this context you don’t want to think about right now. You just want to luxuriate in his touch and affection. 

“I’m just admiring, baby.” The nickname again. It sounds so natural, so perfect. Any thoughts of the significance of what just happened, of how this will work float away. He moves to kiss your lips, chaste but with a little nip at the end. 

“I’ve never—I just—I love touching you. Now that I’ve done it. I don’t want to stop.”

“Why?” You whisper against his skin, you can barely keep your eyes open, you’re exhausted.

“I almost can’t believe it. I just wanted it for so long.”

“But you could have anyone.”

He looks a little taken aback by this. “Yeah, I mean, probably—”

“Probably?” You say with a sleepy snicker, snuggling closer to him. 

“Don’t want anyone else, baby. Just you.” You whimper at his confession, face pressed into his chest.

He starts to stroke your back, your eyes flutter shut. “Sleep, my love, sleep.” His voice is so low in your ear. Your heart flutters at his words but not enough to wake you and you fall asleep. 

——

The bright winter sunlight shining through the window wakes you up the next morning. It feels like you’re floating on one of the light wispy clouds in the sky. Everything about last night is swirling around you. 

You actually sigh thinking about how he had you again in the middle of the night when you woke up. This time nearly silent, your hands on his back, his mouth drawing pleasure out, your bodies doing the talking. 

There are messages waiting on your phone. 

🍪: Morning [6:30]

🍪: I had to go to work early today. I’ll be home as soon as I can. [6:30]

🍪: There is something in the kitchen for you ❤️ [7:06]

Work. Jungkook’s work. The thought all but shatters your perfect memories of last night.

You managed to delude yourself enough last night to forget that his job is to have sex with people. And that’s what he’s most likely doing right now. Hours after he was with you. When you can still feel his hands on you, the stretch of him inside you. But that joy, it’s fading rapidly. He isn’t really yours. Not all of him.

Calling you ‘baby’, holding you close. All of his moves seemed loving. But is that part of his routine? Are you just another girl Jungkook whispered sweet names to in the dark and then left in the light of day?

In your kitchen is an oat milk latte and a small bunch of flowers. They look like they’re from the garden outside, the one you both run around when you race home. 

Home. It’s this place, it’s Jungkook. Isn’t it? 

You drink the coffee and put the flowers in water. And you spend the rest of the day in a haze of errands and laundry trying to distract yourself. You go for a run. You try watching a show but nothing sticks. You stand and watch the clothes in the dryer go around and around.

Jungkook calls around 4pm but you don’t pick up. 

🍪: Hi I’ll be home around 6? [16:05]

🍪: I’ll get dinner on the way, from our favorite place? [16:06]

You don’t call back or respond. Everything you write feels fake, you don’t care about enchiladas, you just want to know if he feels the same as you. 

—

“Hey.” Jungkook knocks on your front door as he walks in with a big grin on his face. He’s carrying a take out bag and tray with to-go margaritas. You’re in the middle of bringing a pile of clean laundry to your bedroom. 

“Oh, hi.” You’ve worked yourself up into such a state, you can’t even meet his eye. You’re worried you’ll start crying or just blurt out something stupid. So you don’t see his face fall a little bit as he puts the food in the kitchen and follows you down the hall. 

He stops in the doorway of your room. Your bed is made, you changed the sheets. There is no physical trace of what you two did in here last night. His smile fades further as he runs at his ear a bit and then shoves his hands in the front pocket of his jeans. 

“Was your day—sorry I had to leave so early. I had a training client. Did you get—”

“I did yeah. Thanks.”

You look up and nod as you keep folding. Your eyes quickly move back to the t-shirt you’re holding as if it is the most important thing in the world and not the man standing in front of you. 

“Is everything okay? I—”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“I missed you today.” His voice is soft and low, his tone is kind. 

“Oh. I missed you too, it’s just—a lot of feelings, you know?”

“I do.” 

His hair looks so soft and a little shaggy. Your thumb starts worrying at the cuff of your sweatshirt. Actually it’s his. Just like you so badly want to be. 

“I just thought—I couldn’t stop thinking, what if it wasn’t real? And now everything is different but has to go back to being the same.” Your voice starts to crack a bit. You can’t hold this back anymore. 

“If what was real?” 

“Last night. How was it— it was so loving? How could it be so perfect? I just worried, what if—what if you didn’t mean it?”

“It felt loving because I love you.”

There is such a strong feeling in your chest, you press your hand against your sternum just to feel more in control of your wildly beating heart. 

“Jungkook—I—” Your voice ends in a squeak as the tears start falling. 

You are sobbing now, everything you’ve pressed down, every moment you’ve wanted to express your love to him and held back. It’s all pouring out. You press your hands to your face, as you sit on the bed, trying to wipe everything away with the sleeve of his hoodie. He walks into the room and sits next to you. 

“It’s just been ramping up and ramping up, this feeling swirling around inside of me and I just wanted to show you that the other night. I didn’t have the words for it then. But I do now. I’m so in love with you.”

You let out another sob, this time the pain in your chest feels like it’s being chased out with bubbles of light, joy spreading through your body. 

“I can’t wait to see you every day. I can’t wait to talk to you when we’re apart. I care about what you say and your questionable coffee choices.” You manage a hiccupy laugh at this.

“I think you’re so pretty, I can barely stand it. And last night I just couldn’t keep being around you and not love you like that…”

He takes your arm, pushing back the now damp sleeve and interlaces your fingers with his. 

“I don’t want to lose any more time. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Your confession is followed by a huge sniffle. 

“You sure, baby? I’ve never told anyone I love them before, but I’m pretty sure the reaction isn’t supposed to be crying?” He gently teases you with a soft smile on his face. 

You just nod vigorously, the tears still flowing. You must look like a wreck, but the look on his face is so tender, so caring. He reaches up and brushes a tear off your cheek. 

“So long. I’ve loved you for so long,” you manage to choke out. 

He doesn’t respond right away. He is staring at your joined hands, his thumb gently stroking your skin until your tears stop. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”

You give a little shrug, wiping tears off your face. “I didn’t want you to. Because I didn’t think you would ever return it.”

“I do. A lot.”

You turn to look at him and he is beaming. It’s hard to not return it, to not respond to the love in his eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” He’s leaning towards you, focused on your lips. 

“I am all snotty.”

“Well, I have more clean hoodies upstairs.” He pulls his sleeve over his hand and jokingly wipes your face a bit.

You suddenly feel shy when he’s looking at you, when his hand comes to cup your face. You nod and he kisses you. It feels like the first time, emotion surging through you, joy beaming out of you for the man you love. 

He lays you down, one hand behind your head, the other gently stroking your hip. His hand moves up your side and up under your shirt, tracing soft circles on your skin. His lips meet yours, the two of you tasting, exploring, luxuriating in each other. 

“You know…” You breathe out as he places slow kisses along your neck.

“Hmmm?”

“All those nights we could have been making out…”

“Yeah…” He actually sounds a little wistful.

“… instead of watching all of those stupid Marvel movies.”

He groans and starts laughing into your skin. 

“You are horrible, I take it all back.”

“No you don’t, you loooooove me.”

“This is outrageous.” He’s tickling up along your sides now. “How dare—”

You cut him off with a kiss, both of you smiling until he presses a little harder, slipping his tongue into the seam of your lips. Your fingertips trace along the smooth skin of his back, slipping farther under his hoodie when his phone starts buzzing. 

Jungkook presses his head into your shoulder and groans. 

“I have to go to back work. That’s my reminder.” You can actually feel his heart rate pick up a bit at this. What does that mean? 

He sits up and offers you a hand to help you up. 

“Ah, what kind of work is it tonight?” You ask tentatively, trying to not make it awkward. 

The mood shifts a bit, as much as you want to be totally cool about this, it feels awkward. 

“A client client.”

“Ah.” Your mind is spinning, you’re not sure how you feel about this still. You just tried to ignore it for so long. 

“I wanted to tell you before I did. In case you didn’t—This will be my last one for a while. I thought about it a lot the last few weeks. I—”

“You don’t have—” Regardless of where you are mentally, you don’t want to force him into anything. 

“I do. I want it for me too. I’ve never—sleeping with someone I really care about is new. For me. And I was already having a hard time separating the two.”

“Oh.”

“I keep thinking about you. With my clients.”

Your eyes pop open at this. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s, um, distracting. Though one of my regulars said it seemed like I had even more stamina, so—” He gives a little smirk. 

“You’re such a show off.” You playfully shove him with your shoulder. 

“What?”

“Oooooh, I’m Jungkook, I love you and it made me even better at banging.” You tease him, rolling your eyes, and he pounces on top of you, pressing kisses all over your face and along your neck.

“Well if you’re so mad about it…”

“Once a fuckboy, always a fuckboy, Jeon.” 

“Yeah, but now I’m just yours.” He gives you a quick kiss. You laugh and your heart squeezes all over again. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Early.”

“Okay, I’ll be here. Just come in whenever—”

“That’s what she said.” 

“Oh god! Goodbye! Please leave now!” You are cracking up, trying to playfully push him off you. 

“You love me. You already told me and you can’t take it back.” 

“Yeah, I do. I really, really do.”

——

Sequel: You’ll Find Love With Me

Read about what OC had to say about Jungkook’s last client

——

i loved this so, so much 😭 i loved that namjoon, who was abandoned by someone he loved once, was still open and brave enough to put himself out there again for someone like oc, who was very obviously a flight risk. and i loved that oc, who was similarly hurt by someone who didn't bother to see her--who didn't bother to stay--was rightfully cautious, but with enough whiskey and newfound christmas spirit, was still eventually willing to take the admittedly super scary leap with joon. the parallels of how nico treated her (and therefore thought of her) and how namjoon treated her and thought of her seemed to be the kick in the ass she needed to truly cement her self-worth and want more for herself than her drifter lifestyle.

which, can i say, i really loved that idea? that oc didn't really have a place to call home, but could slowly feel herself growing roots in such a small, remote christmas town. could possibly see herself with a really hot town historian long term. and also, the fact that he was so easily willing to give up his career for hers? instant panty dropper. as if everything about him wasn't already a panty dropper. tbh, with this namjoon, it's just easier not to wear panties cause PHEW 🥵

and the ending?!?!?!?!?! how dare you. it's so perfect and mallhark-y and sweet and i fucking love it, i've got all of the warm fuzzies that come with a good, cheesy christmas movie (without the cheese and with all 100% more satisfying orgasms added 😩)

moving onto the side characters real quick, i would just like to say that aside from the main couple, my favorite characters include abby (truly a great friend and support system for oc), yoongi (because drinking all the liquor and then disappearing from social situations whenever you please is the only skill that matters in life), and namjoon's sweater vest collection (because fuck you, you know what you did 😤)

On the screen was an overhead view of a café in the city, the focus on a table by the window, with his client, a girl, looking out onto the traffic. She had a latte to warm her hands, her sweet disposition completed by a light, floral dress. Jimin checked her chart:

Assigned Department: Fate.

Overview of their agenda:

Daily morning coffee;

brunch with friend, Jung Hoseok;

*bump into a stranger, i.e., Jeon Jungkook;

work;

after work drinks; and

*second meeting with Jeon Jungkook

General arc:

Meets their significant other through charity dinner.

Gets married following two years of engagement.

Children are expected, though the number will be subject to review.

Work life is satisfactory, if not excellent.

No major issues regarding finances.

Lifelong proponent for electric cars.

(*) This may be a spontaneous deviation from the client’s branch of fate - it is advisable that their designated advocate rectify this as soon as possible.

Jimin narrowed his eyes at the glaring asterisks. While her general arc appeared to be straight and narrow, those could disturb the series of events and develop into a something catastrophic. Simply that his client could be led astray, throwing her whole arc into an irretrievable karmic rubble. Nearly all of his clients adhered to their destiny, his job was to see to that. But this one plagued him. It was timely that he had this case on the day of inspections and he had to shine to get promoted. The perks were enough to motivate him since he wanted his own office and personal assistant. Oh, and once he was there, he would be the recipient of a fresh cup of coffee from the barista with a special artisan blend each morning. He reviewed the statistics, he checked that the graphs of fate were relatively malleable, then he looked at his monitor. He found that she was still finishing her latte, taking slow sips to savour the taste.

At that, he knew that he had time before the first asterisk may occur. He scanned the chart once more and found the name that he never wanted to come across on any of his work: VANTE. It was accompanied by a painted face, the thick brush strokes dripping down, messing up the pristine presentation of the data. Jimin sighed, He always was a show-off. All he wanted was a straightforward case and the satisfaction of a happy client. With that in mind, he decided to make his way over to the place that he loathed to visit.

-

The department of Chance was found within the eye of a hurricane. It was located far, far away from the department of Fate. As it should, given the chaos it administered to its clients. Jimin approached it with caution, the principles of coincidence and plausibility spurred the cyclone, its grey spirals undulating, snapping like whips. He waited as an opening appeared, stepping in while trying to make himself as small as possible. The chill that wrapped around him seeped through his suit; the sound of his footsteps absorbed by the pitted floor.

At the end of the tunnel, he emerged into an open space of disorganised bustle. While his department smells of freesias, here smelled of a confectionary store. He recognised the scent of taffy, which was light enough to appreciate. Chance advocates were more relaxed, their temperaments changing like the wind. Jimin couldn’t help but turn his nose up at the disorder. Lines were meant to be adhered to, fate is all about predetermined maps and his clients were the better for it.

The person of interest stuck out like a sore thumb, with his loose slacks and signature slides. He swanned about the space; his sunglasses were placed so they were facing the back of his head instead of shielding his eyes. His black mop of hair was unruly, his smile wide and devious. Jimin made his way to him, counting down the seconds in which he would be back by his desk.

“Kim Taehyung, I need to speak to you.”

The dark strands of hair were disturbed by the turn of Taehyung’s head, a slow smile spreading across his lips. Jimin tapped his foot, waiting to be guided to a more private area to talk.

“Go on,” Taehyung said, taking out a small tablet at the same time.

“Can we go to your office?” He asked, looking around at the buzz of Chance advocates, some with headsets on while others didn’t seem to be working at all. He saw several ping-pong games happening in the vicinity.

“You’re in it,” Taehyung replied.

If Jimin had high blood pressure, it would have skyrocketed in that moment. He reached into the pocket of his suit to retrieve a copy of his client’s chart. Taehyung was tapping on the screen, watching an overhead surveillance, dragging an icon that read ‘Opportunity #1.’ It bounced till it got absorbed by the client and Jimin watched as they suddenly bumped into another person, their coffee spilling onto their clothes.

“You just cost them so much time, not to mention money for the shirts,” Jimin said, watching as the collision led to apologies and frantic wipes to their clothes. Taehyung shrugged, exiting the tab. He drew away only to sit on a giant, red beanbag. He motioned for Jimin to follow him; his lean figure suddenly swamped in the red material as he crossed his legs.

“I won’t be here that long, and I don’t want to wrinkle my suit,” Jimin said, hovering over him.

“Why are you so dressed up anyway?” Taehyung drawled, waiting for Jimin to sit.

“Why didn’t you wear a better outfit?” Jimin quipped. Taehyung let the comment go over his head and swept his arm over a space beanbag.

“Sit. C’mon.”

Looking around, Jimin realised that there weren’t exactly signposts to more private offices, that Taehyung was telling the truth about working in a communal space. He sank onto a light blue beanbag, feeling strange as it felt like it resisted against his weight. Taehyung was back on his tablet, his fingers working fast, tapping then sliding, deploying coincidences to those who were none the wiser.

“I’m here for my client,” Jimin said, taking Taehyung’s attention.

“Okay, who?”

Taehyung removed his sunglasses from their initial position and slid them on, his gaze hidden behind dark tinted lenses. Jimin unfolded the chart, pointing to the illustration, Taehyung’s mark.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Taehyung tilted his head, donning on the pretence of ignorance. The sunglasses made it more irritating. Jimin waited, his eyes on the slight curve of Taehyung’s smile.

“It’s a post-modern piece of artwork. I think it really adds to the plainness of your chart, don’t you agree?”

Jimin exhaled sharply, flipping the page to reveal the highlighted asterisks. Time was of the essence, Jimin could sense that Jung Hoseok was already arranging an impromptu brunch.

“I don’t like you messing with my client,” Jimin explained, stretching his patience out. Taehyung pouted, unlocking his tablet.

“But I’m not messing with her, I’m simply re-routing her for a better, brighter life. The guys that she’s been dating are so… boring. Oh, and she deserves a good fuck and to not fake any of her orgasms. The guy you have lined up for her makes me want to sleep - she would have eventually divorced him,” he reasoned, shoving the tablet so that it covered the chart. Jimin stared at him, astounded. There was no such thing as divorce on her chart at all. Taehyung looked at him with condescension.

“If you didn’t let me butt in at this stage, I would have later. And that’s worse because she’ll be committed with a joint account and a mortgage. Possibly with kids too,” he explained. Jimin closed his eyes, he could feel his pulse thudding forcefully within the network of his veins.

“My client’s general arc is perfectly suited to her destiny. She’s sweet and her fortune reflects that. Stop interfering!” He said, his voice rising slightly. Taehyung sighed, tapping on a folder that read ‘Jeon Jungkook: Work in Progress’ Jimin adjusted himself on the beanbag, smoothing his suit in exasperation.

“Look - this guy has been through it. I wouldn’t have ‘interfered’ if he wasn’t good for her,” Taehyung said, cycling through the numerous sub-folders and eventually landing on a file that read ‘Livestream.’

When the window popped out there was a hazy picture of a bedroom. There were posters on the wall, some of which were hanging off, their dog-eared corners torn or folded. On the floor was a trail of clothing, by the desk were a tangle of cables, an open laptop, headphones, and Jimin could see the beginnings of a drum kit cropped out by the vantage point. His eyes swept along until they settled on a bed with a figure underneath the sheets. It slumbered, a dark head of hair peeking out, his face pressed on the pillow, mouth half open as he laid on his front. Jimin made a face.

“Okay… okay, we caught him at a bad time, but later on, when that chance meeting happens, it would be electric, trust me,” Taehyung said, pushing the sunglasses so that it rested atop his head, containing the mop of hair, and exposing his forehead. Jimin saw the time on the top right corner, it was creeping up to brunch, which meant that Jung Hoseok had probably sent his client a text.

“I haven’t forgotten about last time,” Jimin said, exiting the window so he could glance at Jungkook’s profile. Taehyung gave him a close-lipped smile, which Jimin forced himself to assume that it was apologetic rather than cheeky.

“I get it, I’m sorry, I thought that they would be perfect for each other,” Taehyung said.

“You didn’t even consult me at all. So, they ended up not getting what they wanted in the end,” Jimin replied, recalling his earlier client, Kim Namjoon. He was a promising scholar at the time of Taehyung’s intervention. His general arc was like his current client’s so Taehyung took it upon himself to pepper his chart with is self-proclaimed coincidences. Kim Namjoon ended up becoming so enamoured that he lost all semblance of rationality, at the extremes, dropping out of school to follow her abroad. In the end, she left him for another, so he was a sitting duck, returning to nothing when he eventually made enough to leave. Jimin managed to assert some balance to his fate and now Kim Namjoon is an English Teacher in a small fishing village. He may not be happy, but he was content.

Jimin didn’t like bringing it up since it was an example of how things could go so wrong with even minimal interference; but he used it to remind himself that he should nip certain things in the bud. Even more reason to when Taehyung was involved. Jimin glanced at him, his brows knitting at the memory. He was young, fresh out of Fate advocate school. Yet while he was the top of his class in theory, he was at the bottom of the ladder in practice. Meanwhile, Taehyung had already gained the reputation of a trickster and was able to blindside the new Fate advocates in a blink of an eye. Jimin got an earful from his superiors following that incident.

Taehyung pressed his lips into a line, the apples of his cheeks appearing rounder. Then he bared his teeth, sucking in air.

“Isn’t that what it’s about? Luck, chance, endless possibilities?” He asked, his eyebrows raising in optimism. Jimin ignored him and scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s index - or lack thereof.

“How am I supposed to navigate his profile?” He asked, sifting through random bookmarks, tabbed pages, links that weren’t updated. Taehyung raised his finger and dragged a slim, rectangular box to appear.

“I have a system. What are you looking for?”

Jimin shifted in his seat, the beanbag seemed to swallow him whole, as if it knew that he didn’t belong here.

“I need to see what kind of person this Jeon Jungkook is, whether he is right for my client - where’s his agenda for today?” He asked, his eyes flitting over the numerous annotations that Taehyung scrawled. His fingers move fast, they fly over the icons that were unfamiliar to Jimin and settled on a virtual post-it. It was green and could be stretched and constricted if you drag it from the corners. Jimin pinched it so that the font was bigger.

Assigned Department: Chance.

Name/Monikers: Jeon Jungkook; Jungkook-ah; Jay-K; Golden Maknae

Jimin turned to Taehyung who was reading the same thing.

“Golden Maknae?”

Taehyung nodded, “He’s good at everything and he’s the youngest amongst his friends.”

Jimin resumed reading, feeling a sense of trepidation with every scroll.

Overview of their agenda:

SUBJECT TO CHANGE AS PER THEIR ADVOCATE :P

Jimin's mouth twisted at the use of emoticons. Taehyung pressed it so that it changed from green to purple. He scanned the bullet points, all haphazard.

Wake up late; rush to shower and get ready.

Take the next available subway. Flirt with a passenger across the carriage - options include eye contact, brush of a hand, suggestive lean as the train becomes unstable for about 4.5 seconds (@Advocate’s discretion)

“You know, for someone who appears scatter brained, you have surprisingly detailed notes,” Jimin said, earning a self-satisfied scoff from Taehyung.

Make it into first day of work at the café, albeit 5.2 minutes late. Apologise to the manager using undeniable charm. Note: Give Jungkook the opportunity to hit the ground running by taking a tray of coffee. Could throw in a wink - @Advocate’s discretion.

Jimin rolled his eyes at the set-up of events. Taehyung chuckled as he approved the bullet point after deleting the option of a wink. It becomes bold after his actions.

NEW DEVELOPMENT #1:

Jungkook doesn’t see a girl in a floral print dress emerging form the bathroom until it’s too late because he was distracted by a customer spilling their drink. They bump into each other quite abruptly, they look at each other once, they realise that they were meant for each other - ensure to add the sound of bells.

Jimin whipped out his chart and saw that discrepancy in notes. Taehyung laughed nervously, knowing that he purposefully omitted the details he inputted in Jungkook’s chart.

“Isn’t that a bit much?” Jimin asked, noting the phrase ‘meant for each other.’

“No? Not when they are two halves of the same whole,” Taehyung replied, hurrying down until it gets to the final bullet point.

NEW DEVELOPMENT #2 ;)

Second meeting: Orchestrated by a distant mutual friend, Min Yoongi. He comes to crash at Jungkook’s place for a couple of days. Worked at a temp job with the girl, got on well together but lost contact. He doesn’t know anyone else in the city and asked to meet. Jungkook tags along after work

The meeting is E-L-E-C-T-R-I-C.

Jimin saw that a lightning bolt was drawn next to the spelled-out word. Taehyung reached over and pressed a code, then clicked on an icon that was an upwards arrow. An audible ‘whoosh’ resounded from the speakers. Jimin shot him a look of suspicion.

“What did you do?” He asked, feeling the beanbag deplete slightly. Taehyung assured him with a smile.

“Nothing!”

Jimin let it go and clicked on Jungkook’s general arc tab:

General arc: Jeon Jungkook

MOTTO: Rather be dead than live without passion.

Enjoys music - excellent singer and dancer. Could be a performer IF things didn’t work out.

Works a lot of temp jobs. Though he had a fleeting office romance that ended badly - results in phobia of corporations and buildings with more than six floors.

Freelance video editor.

Excellent metabolism can consume up to three cup noodles, spicy or not.

Work ethic is unparalleled whether at work or at the gym or in bed.

10% body fat.

Tatted on his right arm, some designs are still in the works.

He noticed that Taehyung was reading them out loud, sounding proud at the points raised. Jimin turned to him, confused.

“This isn’t a general arc! It’s trivia. Where is his life going to go? When will he settle down? What about retirement plans?” Jimin asked, his heart racing at the chaos that greeted him. Taehyung titled his head, unperturbed.

“Don’t you see? It all depends on this meeting!” He exclaimed, his movements animated, his head shaking in a way that prompted his sunglass to slip down to cover his eyes. Jimin scowled, handing the tablet back to Taehyung.

“I’m leaving, and I don’t want you messing with my client’s fate. I’ll get reinforcements if I have to,” he threatened, getting up from the beanbag with difficulty. He cast a look at the pronounced wrinkles at the elbows and backs of the knees. He sighed, dreading the knowing looks when he did eventually return to the department of Fate.

“It’s too late!” Taehyung laughed, prompting Jimin to spin around, halting him from his tracks.

“What?”

Taehyung tapped his tablet and Jimin whipped the chart from his inside pocket. He looked down at his client’s chart. His blood goes cold.

Assigned Department: Fate.

Overview of their agenda:

Daily morning coffee;

*bump into a stranger, Jeon Jungkook;

brunch with friend, Jung Hoseok; CANCELLED/RESCHEDULED

work;

after work drinks; and

*second meeting with Jeon Jungkook

Jimin folded the chart with equanimity. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. When he opened then, Taehyung had stood up from his beanbag, turning the tablet towards Jimin. It took a moment before his eyes focused but the bed was empty, and then the scene cut to Jungkook racing through the streets, weaving between the crowds. Eventually, he springs into the double doors of the café, right where Taehyung wanted him to be.

“I fast tracked it!” He beamed.

But Jimin didn’t match his energy, instead, lunging after him a sudden burst of rage. Taehyung ducks down, bending his body so that it was flew out of Jimin’s grasp. They chase each other, Taehyung hiding behind a spare ping-pong table, making Jimin run in circles till he breaks free, heading towards the corner where there were slides that twisted like snakes.

“Kim Taehyung! Come back here!”

-

Jungkook was late. He barrelled through the double doors of subway and bounded down the steps. His feet were loud against the concrete sidewalks as he expertly navigated the morning crowds. It was his first day at the café and he wanted to make a good impression. The trouble was that he found it so difficult to wake up before noon. After the cold shower he had, there was barely any time to dry his hair taking to stand underneath the vents in the train so that the air could do the trick of at least drying his roots.

Situated in the heart to the city, the café served as a haven for the employees of the nearby corporations. He figured that he could earn a decent living from a more physical line of work. Besides, it offered him an ideal location for when he was on break. There was a nearby park or other café’s that had live music. There was even a building that was filled with karaoke rooms. He didn’t like desk jobs anymore, the memories attached to them he’d rather blank out. That and his learned aversion towards the copier room. He didn’t appreciate nearly getting his ass photocopied after getting a blow job from a girl that he’d rather erase from his memory.

Once through the automatic doors, he searched for the back room where the employees would normally be prior to starting. Before he could enter, he sees the beady eyes of the manager that interviewed him. He bows deeply.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late!”

There was no response, so he grabbed a nearby tray from an employee, who gave him a look of disapproval. Jungkook’s steady hand ensured that the drinks didn’t topple. His manager cleared her throat, waiting for Jungkook to spring into action.

“Which table is this for?” He asked, hopefully rectifying his growing reputation as a disruptor. He thought about winking but didn’t. Though he really felt like he should have.

His colleague cocks his head towards a nearby table with two teenagers, besotted with each other. Jungkook works straight away, even though he wasn’t dressed in uniform and erupts into a big smile. Too enamoured with each other, he didn’t bother greeting them and set the drinks down in a position where it won’t get knocked over.

“Enjoy!”

As he made his way back, his manager seemed content at his display of bravado. Jungkook saw the door to the back room appear as she side-stepped. Exhaling in relief, he entered the cool space and found a spare locker with his name scrawled on a piece of tape. He shoved is jacket inside, grabbed his name badge and searched for an apron.

-

“Can we reschedule or bump up our brunch for, let’s say, this evening?”

Hoseok’s voice is clear over the music in the background. You frowned at the news, you really wanted to see him since it had been too long. You had finished drying your hands and looked at yourself in the mirror, fussing over your hair and smoothing your dress.

“I can’t this evening, I have a dinner with a friend,” you replied.

“Oh - who?”

“Min Yoongi. He’s a friend from this temp job I did before my current one. He was an aspiring music producer, I think he’s actually producing now,” you said, remembering your brief conversation when contacted you.

“Ah, really? How about this weekend? My treat, I promise not to bail that time. It’s ‘cause my students have this really important showcase,” he said, you could hear the apology in his voice though you couldn’t help but laugh.

“They’re in pre-school, Hoseok.”

“I know, I know, but it’s really important to support them,” he replied, ending it with a laugh.

“Well, you did do the same for your high school students,” you concede. Hoseok went above and beyond his students, which is why he was a highly sought-after dance teacher in the city. Under his wing, there wasn’t anything that you couldn’t achieve.

“You still owe me for not making it to that one - hey, let me know when we can re-arrange ‘cause I know a place.”

You pushed off from the sink and looked at your reflection once more.

“I will. Talk soon?”

“Yeah.”

Once you hang up, you make your way outside, thumbing down your phone to double check the details of your dinner with Yoongi. If the time between meeting Hoseok last was long, then the time between meeting Yoongi was eternal. You agreed because you liked his company and you had a mutual hate towards your office manager, who never failed to sneer before speaking.

Yoongi [9:58AM]: We can meet near the old building, next to the hair salon :)

You remembered the nights you spent over soju and barbecue, you being the designated shot filler and he being the person who turned the meat till they were cooked to perfection. You poised your fingers over the keyboard, fashioning a reply. But you didn’t get to because someone rather hefty collided with you, nearly knocking you off your feet if not for his arm curling over your waist for support.

“Ack!” You gasped, feeling the power behind the collision.

Nearby, someone was slamming their hand against the bell at the counter, so the delicate sounds filled the air. To your side were customers fussing over a spilled drink.

“Sorry!”

You looked up because that was your only choice, and you were met with large, brown eyes, dark hair, and an exposed forehead which drew your attention to a silver eyebrow bar. Below his shapely lips was a distinct mole, which stretched as his mouth parted, still apologising. He was so close. You smell something that resembled fresh fabric softener and now, coffee grounds because you see that he works for the café.

Now, you were acutely aware that his arm was around your waist, the hard muscle keeping you from meeting the floor. His eyes check you, they sweep along your features, you found him as dumbfounded as you were. Something shifts in your mind. A feeling that you couldn’t point a finger to. As if a current was travelled between you. If you paid close attention, your bodies seemed to vibrate from the contact. You wondered if he felt the same. But you quash that and use him to stand up, placing your hands on his (broad and muscular) shoulders, creating distance immediately. He doesn’t let you go until you were back on your own two feet.

“Sorry again, it’s my first day,” he said, smiling at you kindly. You couldn’t help but look at him again, the way he took up space in a way that you couldn’t ignore.

“It’s fine, thank you for saving me from the fate of falling on the floor,” you replied. His smile widens, the sides of his eyes have lines from someone who grinned a lot. It made him look boyish and approachable. The smell of fabric softener and coffee grounds were faint now, you tried to stop from leaning in to not implicate yourself.

“It’s my pleasure. Do you come here often?” He asked, returning your implicit wish to prolong the conversation. You try to answer but you see his hand outstretch towards your face, you back away but not too much.

“Sorry, you had something in your hair,” he said, bringing it up in front of your face to show a petal. You recalled that there were fresh flowers in the bathroom.

“Thanks… uh, yeah, I do. I work around the corner,” you replied, not sure of how much you should divulge.

He nods, you see his name tag: Jeon Jungkook. He nods, it was subtle and measured. There was a pause between you, a beat before it got awkward. He shifts on his feet, so do you. From a brief glance, enough to be harmless, you see his toned thighs, made possible by how tight his black jeans are on him.

Were they part of the uniform?

If you could, you would shake your head. But you couldn’t because that would be strange and uncalled for.

“Ah, so you work in one of those skyscrapers?” He asked, and you nod, feeling like you were suspended in time, do you verbally affirm or nod?

“Yeah, the one with a billboard of that lemon kombucha,” you said, trying to paint a picture of using its most noticeable landmark. Jungkook’s eyes widened, you thought how big they were, like doe eyes and since he was away from the light, they were like black pools. You assumed that he recognised what you were talking about, it wasn’t a building that you could miss.

“I know that building! I love that kombucha, I actually have a stack of boxes at home and they’re really good for - ”

“Jeon Jungkook!”

Behind the counter was his manager, a wiry woman with a stony expression, her palm on a small bell and her hand held a tray with a cup of coffee. Jungkook gave you a smile, the same one that showed that he was embarrassed to be put in place, especially during his first day.

“Sorry - well, you know where to find me, so see you around?”

You weren’t normally fazed. In fact, you thought that you got along fine socially, people didn’t rouse irrational reactions from you, much less at the smallest interactions. But Jungkook was different. The way he looked at you made you feel shy. Perhaps it was how he looked at you, as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“See you!”

It was fine up until you raised your hand to wave. A mistake. Something that would have been cute if you were both drunk. But under the glaring lights of the café, sober, it was mortifying. Jungkook smiled which had an added nose scrunch. You hoped that it wasn’t feigned politeness. When he turned to resume working, you let out the breath you had been collecting in your lungs, looking around to check if anyone else felt the same seismic shift. Everything seemed the same, people were talking, eating, and drinking. You snapped out of it and headed out the door, thinking of killing some time before you went to work.

-

“This is all your fault.”

Jimin gave up on chasing Taehyung because the department security had taken him up on that offer. What he didn’t anticipate was that he was also part of the round-up given that he was spending far too long at not doing his job. Now, in a holding cell that was all bright, white light then plush, cream sofa’s, he had spent the past hour watching Taehyung’s ‘fast-tracked’ version of events unfold. Though he preferred to turn away and listen in as an alternative. He heard everything, even down to your description of the kombucha advert on your building. All of this made the prospect of promotion slip from his grasp.

“It’s okay, it’s no big deal. Nothing might even happen,” Taehyung replied, opening another video stream of a Pomeranian doing tricks. Jimin let out a long sigh. He seemed to only be doing that in the presence of Taehyung.

“Yes it is a big deal, you could have steered her off her general arc! And besides if it wasn’t a big deal then why are we in a holding cell?” Jimin asked, missing the quiet in the department of Fate. He also missed his desk, his monitor, the customary greetings to his colleagues as they passed by his station. Taehyung pursed his lips, not having a reply for once.

“The one thing that happened was that they met and -”

“Park Jimin from the department of Fate and Kim Taehyung from the department of Chance, please take a number.”

The generic voice carried through the tannoy causing both to jump. Jimin whipped his head for any changes to their environment, there was no such thing.

“Where are we meant to take a number?” He asked, lowering his voice and clutching the arm of the sofa, fearing that the ground might split open suddenly.

Taehyung shrugged, getting up and walking around, sweeping his foot (sans slide) over the floor. He stopped where there was an obvious recess and pressed down. A mechanical hiss occurred as it rose from the ground, inside were two paper tickets; Taehyung received them both. Jimin stayed where he was because he was abruptly overtaken by fear. Not once had he been in this much trouble, he never needed to ‘take a number.’ When Taehyung returned, he presented the paper tickets in his palm. Jimin looked at his.

Ticket for admission to the Courts of Chance/Fate - Civil Division

Defendant: Park Jimin, advocate under the department of Fate.

Charge: Failing to rectify the client’s agenda, thus leading to potential, irreparable changes to the client’s fate.

Punishment: Subject to review from the courts.

Please wait for the mode of transport shortly.

Jimin wanted to disappear but not before killing Taehyung. He turned to him, waving his ticket in the air.

“Do you see this? Is it still not a big deal to you? Let me see yours,” he said, grasping for Taehyung’s ticket, who gave it nonchalantly. The video of Pomeranians was exchanged for someone giving a tutorial on how to cook spam. Jimin compared his ticket to his.

Ticket for admission to the Courts of Chance/Fate - Civil Division

Defendant: Kim Taehyung, advocate under the department of Chance.

Charge: Interfering with their client’s agenda and another client’s agenda to the point where there are potential, irreparable changes to both client’s general arc.

Outstanding charges: minor

Owes approximately six crates of flavoured soju from the communal cafeteria, circa 2018 - present.

Failing to return eco bike following the environment festival, circa 2019.

Placed initials ‘KTH’ on seven ping pong balls every two weeks for a year, circa 2017.

Punishment for current charge: Subject to review from the courts.

Punishment for outstanding charges: Delegated to the defendant’s official legal representatives.

Please wait for the mode of transport shortly.

“Why on ping pong balls?” Jimin asked, setting aside his consternation for his curiosity. Taehyung locked his tablet and shrank it so it could fit in his pocket.

“Those were the balls that were winning points.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows.

“Every two weeks? For a year?”

Taehyung nodded, “I tried not to give up.” Then, he swiped his ticket and scrutinised it more.

“One question: why are we in the civil division?”

Jimin racked his brain, reaching into his memories from advocate school. The Basics of Karmic Law was his favourite class and if he wasn’t an advocate, he would have been a judge.

“Because we breached our duty of care.”

-

The courts of Chance/Fate weren’t that much different from human courts. Jimin and Taehyung stood before two judges, raised way above eye level, who had little choice but to look down at them. There was the barest outline of a hammer and gavel. Behind them were towering security guards, ready to lunge if ever they try to make a break for it. The entire room was composed of dark woods and burgundy leather. It was hostile and appeared insulated, the slightest noise would be audible. On a small booth, near the judges were their legal representatives, who appeared exhausted, with their sagging skins and sallow complexions. Jimin gulped.

“Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung are in a joint case for being involved with two clients in close proximity to each other,” one of their representatives announced, the one with an aquiline nose. The judges remained stoic, their stares burning holes into Jimin’s suit.

“What do the defendants plead?” One of the judges asked, his voice boomed along the room. Jimin clenched his jaw, looking straight ahead.

“Not guilty,” Taehyung said, causing Jimin’s jaw to loosen. The same judge looked at him, waiting for his plea. Jimin wanted the ground to open to swallow him. There was no chance of a promotion now. He sighs because he knew what he did and didn’t do. All that was left was punishment.

“Guilty.”

Taehyung made a noise that resembled a scoff and a choke. He moved so that he could stand in front of Jimin, perhaps to shake him from his stupor but the security held him back.

“Excuse me, your honour, he's just a little confused at the moment, he hasn't had any breakfast, they work them too hard over at the department of Fate,” Taehyung reasoned, his arms flapping widely before he was caged by one of the guards.

Although, perhaps that wasn't the best of observations as the judge who represented Fate glared at him. Jimin turned to Taehyung, who struggled under the grip of the burly guards, shooting him daggers with his eyes. Jimin shook his head in disapproval, saying his plea once more.

“I plead guilty.”

-

Punishments following a court ruling varied depending on the severity of the charge. But they deviated from standard, human justice as the cases involved matters of karmic proportions. Since Taehyung and Jimin were on a joint case, the judges decided on punishing them together, despite Taehyung’s plea of not guilty. They were subsequently shuttled off into the communal library. It was situated between the departments of Luck and Destiny (the former headquarters of Chance and Fate before reorganisation) to do further research for their plan.

“They told us that we have to do what?”

Jimin sighed for the umpteenth time as he ran his finger down the list of actions that he was allowed to do in his limited capacity.

“They told us that we have to work together and right our wrongs.”

Taehyung came over to the desk and picked up a book titled ‘Karmic Incarceration.’

“We have to see it through. They have to end up together, otherwise we’ll rot in those holding cells till the end of our days,” Jimin explained, flipping open another book.

“I’m at a disadvantage,” Jimin added. Taehyung thumbed his way through a leather-bound book with the thinnest pages, the letters bleeding through.

“Where’s the disadvantage? We get free board and lodgings, and we get to help out our clients,” he replied. Jimin’s eyes appear from the top of a book.

“I was talking more about having to work with you,” Jimin replied, marking some pages for reference. Taehyung pulled a face and rolled his eyes in response.

“Why are we here anyway? We already know what to do, just get them together and then happily ever after,” Taehyung huffed, setting the book down and taking a seat.

Jimin paused before answering since he was skimming a book on judicial ruling powers in the Fate/Chance universe. Jimin smiled at the library warden who observed them with suspicion.

“I wanted to check something I remember reading somewhere that if we mess things up too much - oh, here it is,” he said, placing the book in front of Taehyung’s curious gaze.

Should the defendant be unsuccessful during the reasonable period granted, Agents of Reason will be deployed to wipe the clients’ memories as a last resort. This is in order save the client’s general arc from further interference.

They were both stunned to silence until Taehyung began to speak.

“So, if we don’t -”

Jimin paced with armful of books to be returned to the shelves.

“Yup.”

“And if they don’t get together -”

“Yup.”

Jimin slotted the hardbound books into a cart, avoiding a warden’s prying gaze. Taehyung re-read Jimin’s handwritten notes, all in a neat, legible script. When he looked up, Jimin had taken the recent book to be photocopied. Taehyung squirmed from his seat, the gravity of their task sinking in.

“How long do we have again?” He asked.

“I think we have the most part of today and then early morning.”

Taehyung made a face of disbelief, which pinched his eyebrows and parted his mouth.

“That’s not enough time!” He exclaimed, startling the nearby visitors, who’s quiet reading got disturbed. The library warden glared at them, so Taehyung sank in his seat, his shirt swallowing him from the collar. Jimin shrugged.

“Budget cuts.”

-

Jungkook ended his shift on a high, his stomach screaming for a hearty meal. Back in his apartment, Yoongi was showering so he shed his jacket and collapsed on the couch. When he closed his eyes, his mind wandered to the events of the day until they landed in the morning, the image of the light filtering right through the floor to ceiling windows. The earlier collision, the light smell of sandalwood, warm, ethereal, enchanting. The floral print dress, the feel of your waist against his body, soft planes that felt so right in his brief embrace. He wondered if it was possible for someone so cute and so sexy to waltz into his life like that. You were even serenaded by the sound of bells, albeit coming from the café counter. It was kismet. In fact, it made going to work that much more pleasant. He never wanted to be late again.

“Are you asleep?”

Yoongi’s voice, a deep drawl, cuts through his musings. Jungkook cracked his eyes open and was met with a pale figure vigorously towelling his dark hair. His rounded eyes narrowed into slits as Jungkook stretched dramatically, his yawn echoing in his living space.

“I wasn’t,” Jungkook replied, instantly energised by the thought of the wonderful stranger that he happened to cross paths with. Yoongi had disappeared into the spare room, emerging half-dressed to leave. He patted his neck with some cologne, slapping his palms over his skin, diffusing the scent. Jungkook propped himself up on the leather couch.

“Where are you going, hyung?”

“Dinner.”

“Where?”

“The barbecue place, the one near the hair salon,” Yoongi replied, ruffling his hair, running his fingers through the wet strands.

Jungkook’s stomach rumbled, filling the silence as Yoongi retrieved the hairdryer from the nearby drawer. Over the noise, Jungkook collected his thoughts, preparing to plead his case to tag along. Once the roar ceased, Jungkook springs up, renewed.

“Can I join?” He asked, his stomach growling as a noise of accompaniment. Yoongi curled his lips into a line, puffing his cheeks as he scrolled down his phone.

“I’m seeing a friend but I’m sure you can tag along,” he mumbled, typing on his phone in careful strokes. Jungkook smiled, knowing that he would have some company.

-

Jimin had changed out of his suit in favour of comfier clothing like pyjamas, complete with a navy chequered robe. Taehyung had less of a dramatic transition, slipping out of his striped shirt for a black one, matching his slides. The control facility was one of the many bungalows in a village nearer the courts of Fate/Chance. It was sparsely decorated and utilitarian, the furniture being grey and beige, standard issue. Taehyung reached for a bowl of tortilla chips while Jimin chewed on some mixed nuts. There was a strange liberation that Jimin felt, to put his feet up and have nothing to focus on but one case.

“What’s the update? Oh, and here’s your tablet,” Taehyung asked while casting the image of the tablet on the TV in front. Jimin received it and pressed a singular folder that had their case number on it.

“I can use this?” Jimin asked, bringing up more charts from the folder.

This time, it was more organised, for which he was grateful. Taehyung nodded, flipping through the different livestreams to locate a better vantage point. A final choice brought out a high-definition image of a barbecue restaurant with the sounds of sizzling meat and overlapping conversations filling the speakers. He added another window where Jungkook and Yoongi were on the subway, the carriage dragging itself along the tracks speedily.

“Have we considered the fact that Yoongi will be third wheeling?”

Taehyung reached under the coffee table for a phone. He unlocked it and showed Jimin a string of messages, all from the department of Realism. Jimin’s eyebrows raised.

“Yoongi’s designated department is in Realism? Jeez.”

It was rare for a client to be in the department of Realism. They didn’t have advocates, rather, they had handlers. Clients such as Yoongi didn’t need to be guided, he knows what he wants, and his handlers simply wait at his beck and call. Jimin let out an impressed sound.

“I pulled some strings and had them intervene, he should be getting a call... about… now.”

Right on cue, as both Jungkook and Yoongi took the final step onto the street, Yoongi’s phone makes it to his ear, he halts and looks around the roads. Jungkook waits, his eyes on his phone. Taehyung unmutes the live feed.

“Yeah… ah, I told you to save the track constantly while you’re working on it… you need me there? Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Jimin grinned. It was advised that with any case there should be a good start, here was evidence of that. Taehyung passed him the bowl of tortilla chips and he grabbed a handful, eating with enthusiasm.

-

Jungkook was never one to panic but he was counting on Yoongi’s company for the dinner. The moment Yoongi dropped out due to an emergency at work, he was left to beeline to the barbecue restaurant to meet Yoongi’s friend - a girl. Not that Jungkook is severely out of practice in social situations, much less with the opposite sex, but he wasn’t drunk enough not to make a fool of himself. The alcohol helped tease out his flirtations, not that he planned to go far with Yoongi’s friend, he just didn’t want to intimidate. Without inebriating himself first, he would appear like a shy, babbling mess.

Besides, his thoughts were thoroughly occupied by your encounter in the café. He was looking forward to eating and having an early night, ready for his morning shift so that he could catch a glimpse of you as he took your order. He recalled his parting conversation with Yoongi with clarity.

Hyung, I can’t meet her by myself - it’s gonna look like a set up!

What? No, it won’t. I’ve sent her a text saying to head over there even though I couldn’t make it, but you can. Make the most of the reservation, I had to be on hold for forty minutes to get that, don’t waste it.

That’s how he managed to take himself to the said restaurant and give Yoongi’s name so that he could be led to the relevant table. Past the narrowed space, he had to walk like a crab, taking care to avoid bumping into customers who bent and bowed from laughter over food. At the table, there was a girl with her back turned away. He noted the curve of her waist, the way her hair was swept to one side revealing a hint of neck. A final glance showed black jeans hugging shapely thighs, when she turned her head slightly, possibly due to the feeling of being watched, he asserted himself on the chair across her so that he wasn’t caught staring.

Too bad that intention lasted for about three seconds upon seeing your face.

-

“Did you go over their compatibility charts?”

Jimin only asked because that was standard procedure. Both he and Taehyung were watching the livestream and saw how Jungkook’s face fell at the sight of you. It was going to be a long night if they didn’t at least intervene.

“Of course, I did - why do you think I chose to mess with her chart?” Taehyung replied, sending through another report. As soon as it came up on Jimin’s screen, he scrutinised them, pinching the document for a better view.

Compatibility chart: Case No. 13062013_010997

Potential: 80+%

Factors to increase compatibility:

Dates, i.e., Fun fairs, Arcades, Skating, Roller-skating;

physical proximity - i.e., cuddling, back hugs, nuzzling;

willingness to improve/competitive spirits; and

sex.

It only took one look for Jimin to understand why Taehyung made such a choice.

“So, they’re horny, hopeless romantics?” He asked, finding it hard to believe that you, his client, share the same or similar traits as Taehyung’s client.

“Well, yeah. Just because she’s hasn’t had the best luck with the guys she’s been getting with doesn’t take away from the fact that Jungkook can give her what she needs and wants.”

Jimin knitted his brows together, scrolling past more statistics and bar charts. The data he got from his department wasn’t nearly as detailed as what he was reading. It made him wonder about his previous clients, whether he did put them on the right path after all.

“We don’t have time for the top three, so we have to focus on the last one,” Taehyung informed.

“Why hasn’t Jungkook been snagged up? His chart shows that he has nothing but good things to offer,” Jimin asked after coming across reports of Jungkook volunteering at an animal shelter, then pictures of him picking litter in his local area every other weekend. Taehyung exhaled a deep sigh, sinking into the couch, his gaze at the ceiling.

“He’s too busy getting laid. And it’s his own fault, he swerves everyone I throw his way,” he explained, pressing the heel of his palms onto his eyes.

“He seems to really be into her though,” Jimin said, trying to find the media controls so that he could raise the volume.

“It’s a good start, but we’ll see,” Taehyung replied, leaning forward to retrieve his tablet.

-

“You’re Jungkook from the café, right?”

You said your name as you introduced yourself, your smile being the one thing that Jungkook wanted to see. It was sweet and cute; he just didn’t expect to see it so soon. So much for delayed gratification. He saw how you took note of his tatted arm, the dark ink descending from his shirt sleeve. He closed his jaw, moving his lips in the most subtle way possible to will some movement that the rest of his muscles didn’t have. You were really in front of him and so, so close. It was torture. His serendipitous stranger appearing like a granted wish. Someone above must be looking out for him because he knew that a second chanced meeting didn’t happen every day.

“Uh, yeah. Yoongi-hyung had a work emergency and he didn’t want to waste the reservation… or stand you up,” he rambled, his leg bouncing underneath the table. Your stare made him nervous. He needed alcohol, he needed something to numb his adrenaline; he feels like the grooves of his brain was being filled with grout, going smooth all over.

“Are you guys living near each other then?” You asked, dragging your seat closer to let someone pass. Jungkook thought that he should be sitting there, not you. He gets up, making you flustered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Uh, he’s here for a couple of projects, and he’s staying at mine for a couple of days - let me sit there so you won’t get disturbed,” he said, smiling at you as you swapped.

“Oh, sure.”

When you squeezed past him, the scent of sandalwood wafted up, he feels your warmth, you were close enough to touch. He couldn’t help but gauge you, sweeping his eyes up and down. He noted the dips and swells of your body, and those thighs. He automatically wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. As soon as he sat down, he stopped himself from thinking, forcing such ideas away with internal meditation.

C’mon Jungkook. No thoughts, head empty.

Thankfully, your rearrangement coincided with the arrival of the food for grilling. The presence of the server made you both straighten up, quietening to an almost awkward atmosphere. The metal tongs scraped the grill, the meat colouring to brown, the thinner strips curling then singeing at the edges. The smell continued to entice him, so he focused on that, not at the fact that you were right in front of him, with the overhead lights casting a warm, romantic glow over your features.

Fuck, he was down bad.

The server looked at him and then you.

“Should I finish off the rest for you guys?” He asked, flipping over one of the mushrooms and pushing it so that there was more room for the meat.

“No, it’s okay. I can take over, thank you,” Jungkook said, reaching for the metal tongs, turning over the meat once more. You too had your eyes on the food, your hands were under the table. Jungkook knew that you were fidgeting, he did the same thing, he could tell by the subtle movements of your forearms.

"Do you come here to eat often?” He asked, starting with a simple question to warm up the atmosphere, there wasn’t going to be much talking if you were both too busy being stalwarts over dinner.

“Yoongi and I used to eat here a lot back when we were doing temp jobs,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Jungkook’s hand twitched, his grip on the tongs tightening.

He could attribute it to one thing: he was nervous. There were butterflies that overtook the hunger he felt, you looked at him through your lashes. The meat was burning; he grabbed a small plate and laid them out.

“The first batch might be charred,” he said, crinkling his nose.

He was meant to be a good griller. That was his job when he was eating with his friends; that and wedging chopsticks between his lip and teeth so they gave him metal fangs. Bringing out the latter might be too soon. You lifted one up to taste, chewing carefully, not hinting at how it was charred. Jungkook knew because he tasted one himself shortly after.

“You don’t have to cover for me,” he said, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.

He scratched back of his neck. If made any more mistakes, he would break into a sweat. You gave him a smile, the one that he instantly adored. The quirk of your lips, the way it slowly spread into a wide grin, then you raised your curled fist to cover it. Jungkook stopped himself from outwardly protesting against your actions.

No, don’t do that!

You brought your hand down and revealed as sheepish smile, closed lip but still lovely.

“Okay, but I’m counting on the next batch.”

-

“Can’t you fast track this?” Jimin asked, or rather commanded.

Dinner was dragging. He didn’t expect Jungkook to trip over his tongue this often. The more pressing issue is that Yoongi was nearly finished sorting out his work emergency. Taehyung lifted his finger, a signal to wait.

“I’ve sent in another request to his handlers.”

Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched Jungkook burn the next batch of meat.

-

Yoongi was about to log out when a cry from next door startled him.

“It’s gone! It’s all gone!”

He made his way to the neighbouring station calmly, unsure of how many slips ups he could take. The track that failed to be salvaged wasn’t too far along in production and he had worked on a previous, saved draft, tapping the save button with each modification. The sound engineer he worked with was frantically tapping on the mouse, the monitor in front showing a buffering sign, constantly turning. A sense of dread coils itself in Yoongi’s stomach. He had deadlines and he had just sent the current file through.

“Where is it?” He asked, leaning over on the table, his eyes narrowing into slits. He took the mouse and moved it across, willing the screen to change.

“I tried to save it and it just crashed.”

“What?”

He rushed back to his desk; the same thing showed up. He dragged his hand down his face and looked at the time. It was getting late, and he anticipated that he wouldn’t be able to leave until dawn.

-

You weren’t expecting a meeting with Jungkook so soon, let alone be on a date with him. The dinner came and went. Afterwards, you walked and talked, letting yourselves be carried along with the crowds. The words exchanged weren’t important, it was the fact that as the night drew on, you were eventually intertwined with each other.

It began with an accidental brush of a hand, the friendly tug towards his chest since the lights changed and he didn’t want you to get run over. Then came the stumbling down the steep hill, somewhere in the middle of Itaewon, where the roads choked with crowds, so being pressed together was an occupational hazard. Overall, you really laughed more than you talked, which was a pleasant discovery since it seemed like you were communicating so much more.

Jungkook smelled even better up close, no, he felt even better up close. As you wedged yourself against the tide of people, he did his best to shield you from being jostled. It had the inevitable effect of your back pressing against his firm chest. Fresh laundry and something more masculine hit your senses, a welcomed contradiction.

When he walked ahead of you, but not enough that you had to rush, you thought about the fact that his right arm was covered in tattoos, each spaced out thoughtfully and became animated when he made gestures. And the fact that he had a chiselled jaw but soft features. And the fact that he had these expressive, doe eyes that widened or narrowed at every word you said. And he has that smile that seemed rare, the kind that pulled up all his features, showing all his teeth and crinkled the side of his eyes. You also didn’t forget about the fact that Jungkook was extremely attractive during the day and night. No surprises there.

“We actually covered a lot of ground,” he said.

You nodded, getting a good view of the silver brow bar that peeked through the dark strands of his hair. You were resting on a bench in a park near where he lived, you found that the direction you took drew you closer to his place than yours. Then, he stood up and you followed, until he climbed the metal rungs that led to the top of a slide. The space was small, so you were inadvertently pushed together, your sides lightly touching.

Jungkook lived on top of a hill and being elevated gave you a superior view to the resulting landscape: all the twinkling lights that dotted the mountains with the rest of the city concentrated further out. He was describing to you the numerous landmarks nestled in between the contours of the land, pointing out his usual haunts, then tracing the roads that resembled bright serpents. Busy with admiring the scenery and following his descriptions, you almost missed the fact that his hand had settled on your waist. The sudden proximity made you observe him. You see his bare face in profile, the soft and sharp slopes illuminated by the nearby streetlight. You see his strong brows, the curve of his nose, the shadows under his eyes, his sharp jaw, his unblemished skin with the lone scar that cut his cheek.

“This is a great vantage point; it gives the best view.”

You would have conceded straight away if not for the fact that he was looking at you when he said that, heightening the feeling of his hand on your waist. You turned your gaze back to where the lights blinked and shone.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you said.

When you turned, he grinned at you, a sort of self-assured smirk that lifts his mouth at the corner. Up close, you notice a small mole below his lips. His eyes remained on yours, a white glint cutting along the inky pools.

“And I bet you say that to every guy,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. His eyes were on you again, on your lips, the gap between you shrinking. You were so close that you pick up the scent of fresh laundry, the smoke from the restaurant that stuck to his jacket. Your breaths come together, the nudge of his nose. You close your eyes, feeling him press his lips against yours. It took seconds to register that you were kissing but when you finally got a hold of yourself, you realised that there was the same current you felt the moment you met running through you.

-

You should have known that your expectations would change soon after you and Jungkook crossed the threshold of his apartment, drawn to each other like magnets. Then again, it seemed like an inevitability.

Through the darkened space, he tugs you to his room, stumbling past the door. It opens to the sight of a sizeable bedroom and an equally sizeable bed. There were also posters on the wall along with some musical instruments, a desk kitted out with monitors, a gaming chair, and an RGB keyboard, flashing all colours of the spectrum in the darkness.

“Sorry about the mess,” he apologised, swiping something on the floor with the inside of his foot.

You surveyed the room again, thinking that that was the least of your problems once you see him shed his jacket. At the sight of his tattoos, your mind goes to soup; you live in the present, you shake your head. You bring up the fact that Jungkook, with his dark hair, silver brow bar, and ungodly body is right in front of you. Everything unfolds in slow motion. Though you supposed that that was your wish to savour it, to enjoy it all, because everything that has happened since the morning resembled something that was a nod to fate. It was as strange yet bewildering feeling. You’ve had your fair share of one-night stands but there was a sense of anticipation that you couldn’t shake around Jungkook.

He approaches you and you back up to his bed, sinking down, the firm mattress hitting the backs of your thighs. You feel a sense of vertigo of switching positions so swiftly that your hands curl around the edge. His large hands go over your thighs, firm and assured. Your gaze settles on his eyes, even in the dark you knew they were only on you. There was no point in overthinking, it would ruin things. You didn’t want that. That would be a cruel joke from whoever orchestrated this entire interaction.

Heat rises all over your body, setting you alight. You couldn’t gauge what Jungkook was thinking, his fingers digging into you, making your breath hitch. There was a pause. Hesitation or not, it didn’t matter. You lean as he leans, he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue finding his way between your lips, but it wasn’t forceful since you welcomed it. Jungkook tastes like first day of Spring but felt like the scalding heat of Summer, you feel the weight of him as he kissed you, the contours of your bodies fitting so perfectly that you wonder if your meeting really was fate instead of coincidence. You absorb his throaty hum, finding it so preposterous how that turned you on so much. His hands glide up, they find the buttons of your jeans, his lips busying themselves over yours. It overwhelmed.

-

It didn’t make any sense; Jungkook didn’t normally get this worked up over a kiss. The way you felt in his arms, the smell of sandalwood, the way your thighs fit perfectly under his grip, it was as if there were already memories of you impressed into his consciousness. Your lips feel so good against his, he was instantly fixated on the way his taste mixes with yours. But as much as he wanted to be gentle with you, he also wanted to fuck you, hard. At the thought, he couldn’t stop touching you, his hands slipping from your hair, down to your jeans, undoing the button, not shy about his insistent tugs against the rough fabric. With you, he imagined that the clothes looked better off and on the floor. Most of all, he wanted to put that theory into practice.

-

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” Jimin shouted, covering his eyes with his fingers. He wasn’t about to sit through what was quickly turning into a fuckfest. Taehyung dove to the table and searched for the media controls since there was the livestream of you and Jungkook about to strip and get it on.

“I’m trying!” Taehyung replied, digging his hands under the rubble of snacks that he and Jimin had while sitting through the barbecue dinner that you and Jungkook had.

His fingers splayed as his hand swept under the wrappers of candy and chips till he found the remote. As soon as it reveals itself, he points it to the TV and changed the scene to rolling fields and trickling streams, complete with elevator music in the background. Jimin lets out a sigh of relief as he depleted onto the couch.

“How long will this take?” He groaned. Taehyung shrugged, joining Jimin on the couch after the mad scramble to avoid the incoming indecency.

“It’s Jungkook we’re talking about. It could take all night,” he concluded. Jimin’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping at the same time. Taehyung reached to the hamper on the side for some standard issue ramen, mild for him and spicy for Jimin.

“At least they’re getting together, we can’t complain.”

-

Clothes hampered your need to get closer, so you got rid of them with a frenzied urgency that nearly resulted in threads snapping and buttons flying from their seams. Jungkook surrounded you, the fresh scent of laundry lifted from his sheets, the heat that never left him, the sheer strength that caused his muscles to ripple. He cradles your face, tipping your head back, his teeth softly catching your lower lip, stealing a gasp as his kisses grew deeper, more desperate, sucking on your tongue, bringing out your moans. You’ve never been the one to be overly vocal during hook-ups or sex, it struck you as being too fake, yet the way Jungkook handles you breaks your concentration, it forced your body to regress into something more primal. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to fake anything, if ever.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, his lips leaving yours to kiss along your jaw, down your neck. But soon after you say that you immediately pressed your lips together. Jungkook lifts his head, you see the outline of his broad shoulders, his smirk playing on his shapely lips.

“Don’t hold back, I want to hear you,” he said, his tone so unfairly even.

You sucked in a breath, your legs instinctively coming together to quell the throb between them. When you don’t answer, he dives back down, strong arms flanking you, the dark ink so beautiful that it catches you off guard, the way it covers his whole, right arm. He orients himself in a way that wedges his torso between your legs, firmly spreading you, his tongue soothing where he nipped at your neck. You bite your bottom lip, you try to imagine what it would be like once you got to fucking, the sounds you won’t be able to stop. Still, you moaned as he yanks the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down quickly, lifting your legs, tossing it elsewhere. He leans forward, his mouth lands on your nipple, you tangle your fingers in his hair, you tug as he groans, the flicking motion of his tongue driving you insane. You looked down, deeming that it was a little unfair about how he still had his jeans on whilst you were basically naked underneath him. You try to push them down with your hands and he gets the hint, but not before biting down on your hardened nipple, making you moan.

He parts from you, he does as you want, the useless fabric coming away. You drink him in, the way his body was sculpted, the size of his thighs, you were obsessed. Slowly, your eyes met and there was that grin that guys would usually get when they know that you want them, desperately. You thought about lying but it was futile, you couldn’t hide how wet you were.

You lift yourself up, the final layer being his briefs, which stuck to him, skin-tight. He leans into you, his lips on yours. You become more comfortable, you bite his bottom lip, you moaned as he grunted at your cold fingers finding the waistband, slipping down so that you push it away. His cock comes into view, so hard that his breath staggers as you hold it in your hand.

Fuck. He has a beautiful dick too.

Seeing it added to the charm of feeling it behind the barrier of clothing. You lean back, taking him with you as you slide your heels against the back of his thighs, he lifts his head only to look down and admire you. Something elevates in the air as he reaches above you, his hand swiping over the nightstand, grabbing a condom. He rips it open with his teeth, his rolls it over his cock. There wasn’t any more time to waste, you unfold yourself to him, angling your hips so that the head of his cock is poised at the right spot. He comes closer, your foreheads on each other’s, you hold your breath because you couldn’t wait any longer.

“If you’re uncomfortable, let me know straight away, okay?” He whispered, tentatively pushing his hips forward, one hand on your waist, his thumb making soothing circles. You were trembling beneath him, arching your back, your eyes fluttering close.

“Oh fuck,” you sighed, panting from the way his cock stretched your walls, filling you completely. Jungkook gasped. He fucking gasped as he settled himself inside you, as deep as he could go. He comes over you and you could tell that he was holding back, the power in his thighs still latent. You wind your hands down to his lower back, another low moan that mixed with yours.

“Shit… hold on,” he rasped, his shoulder pressing against the back of your knee, forcing you wide. You tightened around him involuntarily, feeling how wet you were, the sounds coming so naturally that you couldn’t hide them even if you wanted.

“Jungkook… fuck, you can move,” you moaned out, before all cognitive functions left you, rocking your hips despite being held down, the anticipation melting your insides into liquid.

Thankfully, he complies, bottoming out inside you, stilling again for what seemed like an eternity. A rather irrational thought that you had was that he was going to make you beg but before further protest, he grips your waist with more ferocity shoving his cock deep. A cry tears itself from your lips, muffled by how he leans down, kissing you, pulling out, then ramming his cock back down, hard enough to move you up his bed by several inches. The slight burn from the stretch is tempered by the pleasure that eclipses it, your words jumble in your mind, they cartwheel till they morph into a singular word. His name.

“J-jungkook… hgnh, Jungkook!”

He keeps going, his grunts loud in your ears, low sounds that was so fucking hot that you were gushing even before you came. He grinds his hips, and you feel it in your clit, the friction making you push your tits against his firm chest, the muscles hardened, the ink of his arm in your peripheries as he curls it over your head, tugging your hair, your whimpers escaping against his lips. Your hands skim over his shoulders till they find themselves on his hair, he clasped his hand over yours, bringing it up, his grip on your wrist pushing down, restricting you with his control.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groaned, thrusting his cock into your pussy abruptly as you gasped, somehow deeper than the first time.

You raise your other arm and he traps that beneath his hand too, you close your eyes, moaning at the way he feels, how good it was. You let yourself indulge in him, your skin practically on fire. His lips find yours and it was like you taste heaven, his tongue, soft and languid, his thrusts rough and precise. Your muscles tighten from being pressed down, the rhythm of his hips ram down sending you soaring, your arms almost breaking free from his vice grip if not for how strong he was. Your arms bow from the bed, he grinds his hips down and pulls back only to slam back down, the audible squelch of your pussy taking all of him in sending all thoughts to scatter, like leaves in the wind.

“F-fuck, don’t stop,” you whined, the pleasure rising to a wave, and you don’t even resist it, letting it consume you till you drowned.

Jungkook’s mouth parts from you so he could see what he’s doing to you, his teeth baring themselves into a snarl, his dark hair plastered to his temple, the silver bar on his brow winking at you. He lifts his hand so he could flank your head and you were free to touch him, to marvel at the power in how he fucks you, the way his cock is relentless. Your hands found purchase in his hair, desperate tugs so you could hold on as your orgasm crashed down with such force that you almost push him out if not for him stilling. He savoured you, moaning in your mouth as your pussy clamps around him, pulsing so erratically that you keen, your cries swallowed by his kisses, his hips jerking into shallowly, making you squirm as your swollen clit rubs against him.

“Fuck,” you panted, disoriented from the way your senses had become muted.

He props himself up, just as breathless as you are with the same smirk that you sought, pulling out of you suddenly, tugging the condom down, he was on his knees in front of you. You feel his hands even before you register it, flipping you over and soon you found yourself lying on front. You couldn’t help but moan at the change, your pussy throbbing from missing the feel of his cock inside you.

“Put your legs together,” he commanded.

You comply because he had showed you that he knew what he was doing. You arch your ass up ever so slightly as his hand comes behind to palm your ass. A wanton moan slips past your lips, you press your face against his sheets, the smell of fresh laundry fought with the smell of sex. His thighs come on either side of you, his cock rubbing up and down your soaked pussy, his hand rests on your shoulder. You shiver at the contact, your arms folded, your fingers fisting the sheets.

-

Jungkook was losing his mind. The mere sight of you under him, on your front, your perfect ass all for him was enough to nearly spur him to orgasm. He sinks his cock in your pussy, shivering at how tight you were, spasming intermittently from how he made you cum. His hand leaves your shoulder just as you sob his name and something within him snaps, transforming into something he couldn’t control. He pounds into you with a sort of mindless greed that overtakes, forcing breathless moans from your perfect lips. He couldn’t stop even if he tried, the way your ass bounced each time his hips came down ripped a snarl from his throat, as if he couldn’t get deep enough, close enough, to the very core of you.

“Fuck, your ass is so fucking sexy,” he moaned, saying everything that came to him, thrusting into you so roughly that your reply turned into a startled yelp. He sees your back, feels the plush flesh of your thighs and ass, all under his control, he knows you’ll cum again, so he reached between you, his fingers finding your swollen nub, pressing then rubbing till he heard the sweet scream of ecstasy pour out of you. Your pussy clamped around his cock as you came again, thrashing your hips as you yelped. He wasn’t far off as you squeezed him with such force that he was reduced to pants, the familiar tension threatening to fracture through him.

“Jungkook! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried, the sob of pleasure that had such a hold on him that it tipped him over, the sound of wet skin on skin so fucking lewd, that it coalesced with how he could feel every minute spasm. He came with a growl, harder than he ever had, spilling into the condom in thick spurts that caused him to come over you, his heart racing so hard that it was all he could hear as you whimpered, the aftershocks wracking your body. His abdomen contracted, his balls twitched as he rode every wave, his deep sighs settling on your skin, spent, and sated.

“Shit,” you laughed, after a while. Jungkook groaned softly, snapping out of his lust filled stupor, careful not to crush you, though his limbs did feel like jelly. He couldn’t speak yet, blinking as he tried to come back from oblivion.

“You okay?” You asked, sounding as pleasantly consumed as he did.

“Yeah.”

He saw you shift, your lovely profile coming to view. You glanced at him, that devilish quirk of your lips placing more ideas in his head. He follows your gaze till settles on his desk.

“Nice chair,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“Thanks. Wanna try it out?”

-

“Okay, I’m not waiting any longer. It’s been hours,” Jimin hissed, his mind going numb from playing the free games that came with their tablets. Taehyung had a VR headset on, digitally painting something on the TV. It resembled another face, like his signature style.

“What time is it for them?” He asked, making a larger arc with yellow paint. It dripped down the white canvas, giving the appearance of the face crying.

“Right around dawn,” Jimin said, pausing Taehyung’s art to switch to the livestream.

It revealed the timestamp on the top right corner: 3:37AM. You and Jungkook were finally asleep, tangled up in each other. Taehyung comes up, next to Jimin who raised the volume. Static greeted them, that, and small snores from Jungkook, who was spooning you. Jimin pursed his pillowy lips, unsure of what to make of it.

“Is this good enough to get us released?” Taehyung asked, setting the VR headset down on the table.

Jimin narrowed his eyes on the livestream. They weren’t mind readers nor were they able to manipulate the actions of their clients directly, they merely facilitate so they adhered to their destined paths.

“The court order said that they had to end up together or at least have the potential of a first date,” Jimin said, thumbing down the numerous folders on the spare tablet.

“Says here that they’ll wake up in an hour’s time,” Taehyung added, showing Jimin some more information. Jimin clicked his tongue. He wanted to get back to his desk as soon as possible, even if he had missed the inspection.

“We can check then.”

-

Your eyes seemed stuck together when you tried to wake up, but the more pressing matter was that there was a heavy arm thrown over you. Soft snores permeated the air, the space between you and Jungkook was practically non-existent as he spooned you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. When you shifted, he grumbled, flipping onto his back. You raised yourself up, your muscles were warm and swollen, as if you had completed the gruelling marathon training that you had been putting off for the longest time. You take in your surroundings. Jungkook’s room. His keyboard was still on, the numerous lights pulsing in the darkness, the window was cracked open before you both slept, his bedroom door ajar. You rolled to your side and saw him with his mouth half open.

Adorable.

Then, the sound of an alarm pierced the tranquil space, causing Jungkook to flinch. A spike of adrenaline shoots through you as he groaned, getting up, rubbing his eyes vigorously. He reached over to you, but not before kissing your shoulder.

“Morning,” he said, sounding groggy. He found his phone, which was on a wireless charger, clicking snooze.

“You wake up this early?” You asked, watching as he pushed his hair away from his forehead. It was around 5:03AM. He shook his head, grasping for words as he woke up. His eyes were watery, and small tears threatened to spill as he yawned into his elbow.

“I set multiple alarms ‘cause I find it so hard to wake up. Last one is for 9AM,” he replied, leaning onto you, pressing his head on your shoulder.

“Oof,” you gasped, feeling his weight descend upon you at once. You stroked the hair that crept to the nape of his neck as he hummed in satisfaction.

“I should have left after, sorry. I'm not normally this absentminded,” you admitted.

And your body doesn’t normally feel like lead or sore all over after a hook-up.

It was a pleasure induced soreness, though. You couldn’t complain.

You feel Jungkook shake his head, he was so warm that you were slowly being lulled to sleep too.

“No, it's okay. I'm totally the same. You can stay here,” he said, his lips kissing your collarbone softly. Your heart leaps at the prospect.

Just then, you hear the front door opening. You and Jungkook freeze because you both knew it was Yoongi. All the lights in the apartment were on since you both crashed after fucking. It was a miracle that you were able to wake up from the deep sleep you experienced. There was some ruckus, the sound of Yoongi removing his shoes and dragging his slipper-covered feet along the floor.

“Jungkook? You still awake?” He called, there was the sound of a plastic bag being set down.

“Y-yeah hyung!” Jungkook replied. You dive below the sheets as Jungkook shielded you with his body. Moments later, there was a tentative knock, then the creak of the door opening wider.

“Am I interrupting something?” Yoongi asked. Even though it was muffled below you could tell that his voice was smug. You bite your lip as Jungkook was sitting on your feet and cutting off circulation.

“No hyung, did you just come back now?” Jungkook asked, his voice wavering since you reflexively wiggled your toes.

“Yeah. So many fucking issues at work. I got some breakfast. But I’m gonna get some sleep first. I’ve left it on the counter. Come out and have some when you’re ready,” Yoongi said, not bothering for an answer as he shut the door again.

You waited, holding your breath, then released it as Jungkook lifted the sheets, releasing your feet. He had that wide smile, the sides of his eyes forming lines as he embraced you, sharing in the victory of narrowly missing Yoongi’s assessment. He tucked his chin over your shoulder, staying like that.

“That was close,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. Jungkook laughed, nuzzling into you more.

It was a nice laugh, a memorable laugh. It had progression. You recalled this from the evening you spent walking around the city, from the way his smile widens from a close-lipped one because he couldn’t contain it. Then, escalating from sharp exhales from his nose into a full blown guffaw. You liked it up to point where you had to remind yourself that you had literally slept together once (or four times - if you were being pedantic), and the resulting vice grip he had on you just because of his laugh?

Worrisome.

“Do you have some time later?” He asked, pulling back so he faced you, in time to see your eyes widen in surprise. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be a one-time hook-up after all.

“After work, I do,” you replied, realising that it was morning, and you had a full day ahead. Jungkook takes a moment to look at you, making you hyper-aware that your hair was probably a mess, your skin tired, and your eyes were swollen from sleep. He reached up to smooth a loose strand, and you duck slightly, sheepish.

“Want to go on a date?” He asked, his finger tracing your jaw, eventually hooking, and then tipping your chin up. You grinned, the giddiness consuming you all at once.

“Sure.”

-

Taehyung bit his nails, a nervous habit. After reviewing the surveillance in the morning, he was sure that Jungkook hadn’t swerved you, nor was he setting you up for casual sex. Jimin left so he could get dressed, back to his suit so he was left to await the results of their release. As Jimin emerged from the bathroom, Taehyung saw a new notification:

RELEASE STATUS: APPROVED.

He leapt from his seat into an excited cheer. Jimin’s eyebrows raised, his lips spreading into a smile. Taehyung reached for his half-eaten sandwich, which he was too anxious to finish while awaiting the results.

“We did it?”

Taehyung faced him, biting down on the soft bread.

“Yeah. Jungkook asked her on a date,” he replied, between a mouthful of chews.

Jimin clapped dramatically, pulling his jacket down as he straightened himself, gathering his items in preparation for his return to the department of Fate. On the TV was a livestream of you and Jungkook eating the food that Yoongi brought back. Your legs were already draped over Jungkook’s as you conversed. Jimin raised the volume.

“Yeah, I always believed in things being pre-determined,” you said, albeit hushed, so Yoongi wouldn’t hear. Jungkook nodded enthusiastically as he swallowed a big bite of food.

“Me too. I think that the life of person is all planned out, so I believe in destiny and fate,” he replied.

Jimin suddenly erupted in uncontrollable laughter, loud and all directed at Taehyung, who’s sandwich fell apart as his grip weakened. Jimin doubled over, his elaborate hairstyle unravelling at the fact that Taehyung’s client should have been assigned to his department.

“That’s probably why you found it so hard to control him,” Jimin said, breathless from laughing. Taehyung ran his tongue over his molars, then rubbed his lips together in consternation.

“Shut up.”