The Noona Sin Network

A part of you often wondered why you were in this relationship with him. Maybe you were scared to be alone, maybe you didn't think you could do any better than him, but you stuck with him, because for some reason, you loved the guy. 

"What do you want, Chad?" You sigh, walking into the living room where he's sprawled out on the couch, headset on and his match paused. "I'm trying to figure out bills, you know that thing that keeps us warm, and with light and hot water, that you said you'd help pay and haven't." 

"Yeah, babe, can you go to the corner store and get those Takis, you know the ones I like? The not so spicy ones though babe, cause remember I have acid reflux, and a diet coke." He says, turning back to the screen, laughing at something said through his head phones. 

You could feel the rage building up inside of you, awfully quick, and it was seeping out of you even quicker.

"Are you going to pay for said snacks?" You ask, trying to keep your voice calm. 

"What?" He laughs. "Babe, no, come on. I'm broke. I don't get paid again for two weeks. You know this." 

"You just got paid yesterday." You breathe through gritted teeth. "Where the hell did all your money go?" You ask, your hands balled into fists. 

"You know babe, I had the fantasy football league entry, plus I owed Kyle money for the keg bomber last weekend, and I took the boys out for supper yesterday. Shit adds up." He says, never looking at you, only focusing on the game. 

"And that's my problem, why exactly? Why is it always on me just because you're not financially stable. Grow up, you're 35 for christ sakes!" You yell. You stomp to the kitchen, grabbing your purse and slipping on your shoes before heading back into the living room. 

"Yeah, she's got her shoes and purse." He laughs. "She's definitely going to get my stuff." 

"You know what Chad? I'm definitely not going to get your snacks, get your own fucking snacks, Chaaad. I'm going for a drink, with my own goddamn money." You spit, storming out of the house. 

You're wandering down the street, like you had been for the last thirty five minutes, and finally you found somewhere that looked decent enough. You walk in, and the lights are on very low, the place is almost dark, had it not been for the red lights swinging above tables, or the string of red lights wrapping around the ceiling. Your eyes wander the open floor of seating as a soft beat vibrates through the building. Every person in here who was sitting with someone was leaning closely to that person, seemingly having an intense conversation. The vibes felt dark and eerie, but you welcomed it, you enjoyed it instead of being around Chad's fuck boy mentality. You walk towards the bar, sliding onto one of the empty bar stools and setting your purse on your lap. Your eyes were looking down when you felt a presence standing in front of you. You look up and see quite possibly the most beautiful man you have ever seen. 

"What can I get for you?" He asks, his voice is deep, yet so smooth and calming.

"Double vodka and coke please, and for the love of god, keep them coming." You sigh. After your comment you see the slightest hint of a smile appear on his lips, disappearing even quicker than it came. 

"Bad day?" He asks, beginning to pour your drink. 

"Bad relationship." You groan. He nods his head as he slides your drink towards you. 

"Wanna talk about it?" He asks, leaning on the bar with his chin resting on his hands as he waits for you to speak. You look into his eyes, and they're so warm and mesmerizing, you felt safe and secure, like you could tell him anything. Which is exactly what you did.

"What's your name?" You ask. 

"Hongjoong." He replies. "You?" 

"Y/N." 

"Okay Y/N, what's bothering you?" 

"My boyfriend, we've been together for just over a year, and well.. he's something, and not the good something like people usually say. He moved in with me, without even asking me if I wanted to, and I just kind of accepted it. He doesn't pay anything, no bills, rent, groceries, nothing. It's all on me, even though he does work full time. He forgot my birthday, went out and got absolutely plastered with his 'boys'. On Valentine's Day, he took me out for dinner, and can you guess who was there?" You ask. 

"His boys?" He answered. 

"You sir, are correct. I was ignored the entire evening, and then he and his boys left, I ended up paying the bill, and I had to uber home because he had driven us there. Not to mention the fact that he assumes I'm just there for his pleasure, expecting me to be spread eagle for him whenever he decides to show up." You finish, chugging your drink as you try not to gag on the strong taste of vodka. 

"Why are you with him then? He doesn't sound like he contributes to the relationship at all, so why do you stay?" He asks. 

'Honestly, I'm not entirely sure." You answer as he slides another drink in front of you.

"Now that's a bullshit excuse." He replies. "There's a reason that you clearly don't want to admit." 

"Do you ever smile?" You ask him. 

"No." He answers. "Now, why won't you leave him?" 

"Because it's safe, I guess? I don't know if I can do any better than him." You shrug. 

"Y/N, you have no idea how much better you could do." He says. 

** 

From the moment Hongjoong had a whiff of the scent that was coming into his bar, he knew that it was the scent of the one. He intensely watched the door, waiting for the one it belonged too to walk through the door. As soon as you did, it was almost as though his heart could have started beating once again, the ice cold blood that ran through his body could have turned warm just by the sight of you. He isn't sure what it is about you, but he had always been told that he would know when he found the one, and having been alive for over a century, he had just assumed that it wasn't in the cards for him, and now he knows why. Because all his life he had been waiting for you. The person that he would do anything for, the person that he would be anything for had finally walked into his life, and for once he felt an ounce of hope, until, you had mentioned the filthy human you were in a relationship with, not to mention one that treated you like absolute garage, and you had assumed that no one better would love you, but shit were you ever wrong. He was standing right in front of you, and though you had just met him, he loved you with everything he had and would do anything and everything to protect you. 

**

"I appreciate your advice, Hongjoong, but it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow." You sigh. "How much do I owe you?" You ask, grabbing your card from your wallet. 

"It's on me." He tells you, grabbing your empty glass.

"Well thank you." You smile. "It was nice meeting you." You tell him as you slide off the stool. 

"You too." He says, watching you walk away from him. 

That night when you got home, you couldn't get Hongjoong off your mind, a smile spread across your face as you walked through your front door, and headed into the living room, then it instantly dropped. Chad had not moved from the spot you had previously left him in a few hours ago. "Oh, babe." He says, sucking the cheeto dust from his fingers. "Kyle brought me some snacks, since you threw a huge temper tantrum about my snacks, you can just venmo or cash app him, k?" He says, going back to playing his game. 

You went to bed that night, dreaming of one man, who was not your man. 

**

Over the next few weeks, you had absolutely no desire to be at home. So you headed to the bar that Hongjoong worked at, everyday after work for a drink, or two, or four. In those weeks the two of you spent an ample amount of time getting to know each other, you were sure he knew you better than Chad ever did.  You didn't want to see Chad, you didn't want to be near him and it was bad enough that he constantly texted you throughout the day, sending you lists of things to buy from the grocery store, as if he wasn't able to do it himself. But much to your surprise, he didn't text you when you never came home with his snacks, he didn't check in with you throughout the day, and honestly it no longer bothered you. 

You felt your feelings for Hongjoong deepen with every encounter the two of you had, every time you saw him it was like nothing you had ever felt with Chad, your emotions were amplified around Hongjoong and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep them hidden. 

"One more." You tell Hongjoong, as you set down your fourth glass. 

You can tell he wants to smile, but he's too good at controlling his emotions. "You've had enough, I'm cutting you off." He tells you. 

You pout, trying to give him your best puppy dog eyes, but absolutely nothing got to the man and it was frustrating as fuck. 

"A bad storm is coming, you should probably get home." He tells you, drying off some glasses. 

"I don't want to go home, he's there." You scoff, just thinking about Chad made you want to vomit. "I guess I could just get a motel room, at that place across the street." You say, pointing over to the run down motel, that had flickering lights, and probably a rat and cockroach infestation. 

"You will do no such thing." Hongjoong replies. "You can stay at my place." He says. "Give me a minute." He walks from around the bar, towards the back of the building, and you can't help but to turn in your stool and watch him walk away, damn he looks good. 

Within seconds he's back, grabbing your bag and scooping you up into his arms as he effortlessly carries you out the door. 

"I can walk." You object. 

"I know." He says, his face stone cold. 

"You're very pale." You tell him, as if he didn't know. 

"I know." He replies, unlocking the door to his car. 

"And you're very cold." You say. 

He sighs. "I know." He finishes as he slides you into the passenger seat of his car. 

As soon as he started his car, the rain began pouring as thunder and lightning jolted the sky. 

"You were right, there's a storm." You say, watching out your window. 

"I know." He replies, this time it sounded different. You turned to look at him, hoping you'd catch him smiling but no such luck. 

He continues driving, taking you out into the middle of nowhere, out of city limits, this was it, this was probably when you died. You panicked slightly but you felt it in your entire body that he was not going to murder you, at least not that night. 

Hongjoong pulls up to a gate, punching in a few numbers to open the gate, which just blocked off a winding road. You squinted as you tried to see where you were going but it was far too dark for you to see anything, until you pulled up to a beautiful mid-century mansion that made your mouth drop. It was absolutely stunning and you couldn't believe that he lived there. 

"Seriously? This is where you live?" You say. 

"MY family, but yeah." He answers, parking the car near the entrance. 

He hops out of his seat, walking towards your side to open the door for you, pulling you inside before you get too wet. He dragged you up a large flight of stairs, not letting you admire the inside of his house. He put you inside a large room, with a large bed and a bathroom ensuite. "There's towels if you want to shower, I'll be back in a bit to check on you." He says, avoiding all eye contact before walking out of the room. 

You let out a deep breath as you take off your heels, unbutton your pants and unhook your bra, placing it all next to the bed. You sit down on the bed in your underwear and t-shirt, wondering what to do, until your phone rings. 

Looking at the caller ID, you didn't want to answer it, but you felt it would be unfair for you to do so. 

"Hello?" You answer. 

"Hey babe, it's me.. it's Chad." He says. 

"I know who it is." You sigh. 

"Look.. I know you've been terrible, oh, wait, I mean I've been terrible in our relationship lately but I want to make almonds." He says. "No idiot, it's amends." You hear from the background. 

"Are you kidding me right now? Do you seriously have Brad over to help you?" You yell. 

"Well yeah, he noticed that we were drifting apart and offered to help me get you back." Chad explains. 

You get up off the bed, pacing on the hardwood floors as you tried to process what he just said to you. 

"The fact that you didn't even notice that we were drifting apart is all that I need to hear. You know what, Chad? I'm done. I'm done with this relationship, I'm done with you. Just get out of my apartment, I'm over it." You yell, hanging up the phone. 

You stand there, taking deep breaths as you replay the conversation you just had, he didn't even care enough to notice that you'd been pulling away. That kind of hurt, but then again it was Chad. He was never very perceptive. 

A knock at the door before it suddenly opens, reveals Hongjoong, walking into the room. He tried to play it cool with the fact that you were practically naked in front of it. 

"I heard yelling. You okay?" He asks as lightning strikes, causing the power to flicker. 

"Chad called, he had his friend Brad over to feed him lines because Brad noticed we were drifting apart." You explain. "But I did it. I ended things." You proudly admit. 

"Good for you." He says, staring at you, while you stare back at him. A crack of thunder hits loudly, making you jump, and within seconds Hongjoong's arms are wrapped around you, like he was protecting you. You look at him and he looks at you, and before you can tell yourself not to, your lips are pressed against him, and he is kissing you back. 

The kiss turns passionate and needy in seconds, both of your desires for one another coming out without any control. He moves you both to the bed, laying you down as he hovers over you, his strong arms keeping him above you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling his body closer to yours, feeling him near was all you'd wanted. His ice cold fingers touch your stomach as he begins to lift your shirt up, you can feel his cock slowly becoming harder. You begin lifting his shirt, when his phone rings. He stands up, whispering an apology before answering his phone, barely speaking any words. 

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I have some things to take care of." He says. 

"Oh, yeah, no problem." You say, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Get some sleep." He tells you before walking out of the bedroom door, leaving you alone once again. 

You tried to fight the exhaustion you felt, but it was far too hard. You got snuggled underneath the blankets, watching the door, hoping he would come back but your eyelids got too heavy for you to keep open, and you swiftly drifted off to sleep, finally feeling some peace. 

**

The warm sun was shining into the room, waking you up. You let out a little stretch before opening your eyes, only to see five men standing around you. You sit up, moving to the wall, as these men stare at you. You looked at them all, and they all looked similar to Hongjoong. Pale skin, dark eyes, dark head, blood red lips. 

"Who are you?" One of them asks. 

"Y/N." You whisper. 

It had just been a passing comment that someone made, but you saw that it affected Jin. You could tell that he had folded in on himself, if only momentarily. The next time that you looked at his hands, he had them tucked snuggly into the sleeves of his sweater, just his fingertips sticking out.

Asshole. You think to yourself as you stare daggers at the man who unintentionally hurt this fragile being.

When you get home, Jin’s hands are still covered by the fabric of his sweater. He sits on the couch and doesn’t pull out his phone like he usually does. He watches the television, keeping his hands hidden from view.

“Your fingers are so weird!” the man had shouted. He was Jin’s friend, but obviously not enough to know that he clearly made him self-conscious.

“Jinnie,” you say softly, and he looks up at you as if nothing is wrong. “Do you want some ice cream?”

He smiles and pats his belly with his sweater paws. “No, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“I’m craving something...sweet,” you say as you slide into the spot next to him on the couch.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. You grab his wrist and bring his hand up to your mouth. You peel the back the fabric and slowly slide his index finger between your lips. Your tongue swirls around the warm, salty skin, and you think you can feel his pulse in his finger tip. Your lips slide up and down on his finger, taking it into the back of your throat and pulling it out again. He coughs a little to himself and tries to pull his hand away.

“Jin, you know that I love every single thing about you, right?”

“Well, not my use of Dr. Google to diagnose every malady I’ve ever had,” he chortles as he says it.

“That’s true. But I do love your forehead,” you plant a kiss there.

“Your nose,” kiss again.

“Your cheeks.” Kiss.

“Your chin.” Kiss

“Your collarbones.” Kiss.

“Your belly.” You lift up his shirt and kiss.

“And every.” Kiss

“Single.” Kiss

“One.” Kiss

“Of your fingers.” Kiss

With each kiss, you move to a different finger, finally slipping his thumb inside your mouth. You look up at him, holding eye contact while you take the digit in and out between your lips. He adjusts his seat a little, but he doesn’t pull his hand away this time. He laces the fingers from the other hand into your hair and tugs gently, then he guides you up to kiss him on the mouth.

The two of you kiss gently for minutes until you can’t take it anymore and let the desperation that you feel come out through your lips. Your mouth moves quickly against his, tongue searching his. You let one hand travel down to the bulge in his pants, and he bucks up slightly at the touch. He lets go of your hair and works his fingers into the waistband of your pants.

His fingers know every inch of your body, and he doesn’t hesitate to touch you in exactly the right way. The coolness of his fingertips against the heat of your arousal makes you shudder as he runs his finger up and down your folds. He avoids your clit, teasing you over and over. Your hips buck slightly to try to get him to touch you in your most sensitive, hungry place. Finally, he swirls around your clit, and you feel yourself detach from the room. It has been awhile since you and Jin have had time together, and his touch is driving you over the edge quickly.

Your hips continue to thrust while he slides his fingers inside you. His thumb continues to work on your clit, like trying to find the right station with a radio dial. He explores every inch of you, causing the fire inside you to build. Your brain becomes fuzzy and all that exists in that moment are Jin’s fingers and your pleasure. You topple over the edge of your orgasm and let out a loud moan.

When you open your eyes, Jin is at you, clearly ready for more. You take the fingers that have been between your legs and bring them up to your mouth, licking at your own slickness, moaning with each pass.

You’d been bored for weeks, getting fewer and fewer letters from your mother, and you’d taken a walk around the grounds after dark, which was against the rules, but only in the way that chewing gum during class was against the rules - one that was often broken by the students and easily overlooked by the teachers.

You feel like someone is following you just a few moments in so you remove one of your earbuds, listening. There’s only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Nevertheless, you waited, listening, for another moment before you continued your walk.

The feeling of being watched, though, grew and grew so much that you became afraid, and you turned back toward your dormitory before you had planned to, walking faster and faster. When you look behind you, all you can see is your shadow stretching tall behind you.

The dormitory is locked when you arrive and even though you call your roommate repeatedly, she doesn’t pick up, which isn’t unusual. She’s a bit of a flake, and although she hasn’t explicitly said it, you suspect she doesn’t like you much.

You’d come from money, after all, and she hadn’t, wearing patched uniforms, sewing the hems of her skirts every week. You didn’t mean to be rude when you’d asked her why she did that, you honestly hadn’t imagined not having what you needed.

When she asks you, a bit scathingly, if you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’d paused.

“I don’t...think so.”

“What do your parents do?” Her question sounded a bit demanding and you’d bitten your lip.

“I...I don’t know that, either.”

She’d scoffed, rolled her eyes and plopped down on her bed with her headphones on, a clear sign to leave her alone, but it’d left you thinking.

You’d grown up in a big house, five bedrooms, but it had been old, your mother having it renovated when you were a teenager. You’d heard her talk to neighbors about how the house had been in the family for generations, and now that you’d been asked about her profession...you weren’t sure how your mother had obtained money.

She always had it, though, you never went without if you needed something for school and holidays were extravagant.

Not birthdays, though. For birthdays, you got one gift and it was usually something useful (a journal one year that you’d written in until the pages were all filled, a book once that you’d read cover to cover until the spine was broken and worn, one year a black silk scarf that you’d worn to tatters). Your mother had told you when you were small that the real birthday gift was in the wish you’d made before blowing out the candles.

“Words have power, little one. Even if you only say it in your head,” she’d said, like a warning, and ever since your fifth birthday, you’d been careful about your wishes.

For your seventeenth birthday, your mother had sent you a package, some snacks that you enjoy and the common “useful” gift, a backpack. There’d been a note, in your mother’s loopy handwriting, another warning.

You have power.

You’d made your own birthday cake that year, alone abroad at school, sticking a candle in a donut you’d pilfered from the morning breakfast spread.

You hadn’t known what you were going to wish until you did, and what you wished for, above all else, was a friend.

It had been a week since your birthday wish and there had been no progress with your roommate or any of the other girls at school, so you keep your own company. Your roommate won’t even answer your calls so that you can get back inside, and it’s growing darker and colder outside as you stand next to the door.

You wait there, hoping that there’s another girl breaking the rules that might come by and let you in, but the only thing that happens is that sense of being followed and watched grows until you’re ready to call the headmistress and take your punishment.

“Hello.”

You start, hearing the low timbred voice over the music coming tinnily from your earbuds, bracing your back against the wall, but you don’t see anything until you look toward the alley between the dormitories. There’s a figure there, taller than you, broader than you, a boy, and although you should be shocked because this is a strictly female dormitory, there’s something...oddly familiar about him.

“Don’t come any closer!” You say, and you mean for it to sound strong but your voice shakes. After all, you have no need for protection on a campus of other young women, and all you have is your schoolbooks and your phone. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

The boy pauses, tilting his head as if conflicted, and he’s still in the darkness so all you can make out is the sharp line of his jaw, the straightness of his nose.

“You asked for me,” he says, petulantly, and you draw in a sharp breath.

“I don’t even know who you are,” you say, and squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding against your chest plate hard as you hear his footsteps come closer.

“Of course you do,” he says, voice louder now, closer, if still just as petulant.

“Go away,” you whisper. “Go away go away go away.” Your heart pounds and pounds but then suddenly, that feeling of being watched, the way you sensed him, it all goes away and you feel lighter.

When you open your eyes, he’s gone, and you wonder if he’d ever been there at all.

When Lisa, your roommate, comes out of the dormitory ten minutes later, you hug her as if she’s saved your life.

Ironically, it’s Lisa you tells the headmistress you were out, and it’s Lisa who says she’s spotted a boy around you after class, following behind you.

“I’m sure she was trying to sneak him in the dormitory,” she’d said, snottily, and you thought if you’d had another birthday wish, she’d have been in trouble.

But you didn’t have another wish and whatever strange power you’d had when you were younger seems to have faded. Despite being expelled from school, you manage to graduate and get into college, and you start your life, boring as it is.

Your mother sends you money, always skirting questions about how she gets it and you assume it’s something like generational wealth. You don’t want to fall back on it, want to make a name for yourself and make a career...although you’re not sure what you want to do.

You still don’t make friends easily or get dates easily, but there are a few, here and there. The next time you let a boy kiss you he doesn’t blab to his friends and you even date him, for a couple of months.

It ends after he experiences a series of small misfortunes that have him leaving college and moving back home.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, and he does sound mournful. “The last few months I’ve just been...unlucky.”

You can’t argue with him, he has been unlucky. He’d been captain of the lacrosse team until he’d landed the wrong way after jumping to catch the ball, tearing his ACL and requiring surgery. That had lost him his scholarship, and then more things had started to happen, smaller, like his alarm being turned off somehow and missing his final exams.

“It’s not you,” he tells you, and you nod, but somehow, you’re not sure.

You feel like there’s this black cloud following you, surrounding you, and no matter how many friends you try to make or dates you try to go out on, none of it helps.

Your mother grows distant while you’re in college, but by the time you graduate, she shows up, brings you an extravagant cake. She’d also brought you a gift, a delicate silver chain to wear on your wrist. It fit perfectly, as if she’d measured the size.

“It’s not my birthday,” you tease, and your mother smiles.

It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, though, and you tilt your head, confused.

“It’s a sort of birth day,” she explains, but it’s no explanation at all. She won’t elaborate, though, just lights the candles and urges you to make a wish.

“Mother,” you fuss, and she shakes your head.

“It’s your last, little one. The last wish.”

You think for a few moments but you finally go with what’s in your heart: you wish not to be lonely.

Your mother takes your hands when you open your eyes and you’re alarmed to find that hers are wet.

“I pray you didn’t make the same wish I did,” she whispers, but before you can ask what she means, your roommate interrupts you, coming into the kitchen. Your mother wipes her face, smiles, offers cake, and everything seems back to normal.

That is, until your mother leaves in the dead of night and you wake up to her closing the door behind her.

You get up, still half asleep, shaking your head as you go to lock the door. She’s always been a bit...strange, and so have your aunts.

You get to the corner of the kitchen counter before you feel something behind you. It feels like a breeze, a breath, something blanketing your skin suddenly like a short burst of rain and it leaves your skin cold and pimpled with gooseflesh.

“Hello,” you hear, and you’re sure you’d screamed but it dies in your throat when you turn around.

You don’t recognize his face, not exactly, but you remember the tone of his voice, that line of his jaw. It occurs to you right away, despite your fear, that he’s handsome. Striking, even, if a little strange looking. He’s wearing something out of a historical romance novel you stole from your aunt’s closet growing up, smiling just slightly, and his eyes are this dusky color that isn’t quite...right.

“Who-who are you?”

The boy (man, you suppose), tsks a little.

“A name, already? You ask for so much so quickly, dear one.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out and he laughs a little.

“I guess I could tell you. We’re...tethered, after all.”

Tethered?

You can’t seem to move. It’s like you’ve frozen in place, like there’s ice running through your veins but you aren’t cold. The opposite, really. Your skin feels hot, your cheeks flushed, as if you might start sweating at any moment.

He steps closer and his eyes aren’t just dusky, they’re almost...crimson, like fire’s contained in him, somehow, and he’s giving off this heat like it, too.

“My name is Taehyung.”

Some half forgotten need to be polite fuels you and you start to speak your name but he places a surprisingly large hand across your mouth, shaking his head so that curls fall into his eyes. He’s smiling and it makes him look boyish but no less threatening with those dancing fire eyes of his.

He speaks your name, softly, and the ice in your veins turns to fire, as if he’s brought something alive, spoken something into existence and your back arches as heat shoots down your spine, into your lower stomach, resting between your legs.

“H-how do you know my name? You’re a stranger.”

You choke the words out and they’re muffled against his palm until he moves it but as if he’s read your mind he responds, bracing himself against the kitchen counter with one hand.

His mouth parts in a full lipped pout and he places the hand he’d had over your mouth over his heart, the fabric of his shirt (tunic?) billlows.

“Strangers? Dear one, you wound me. I’ve known you always. I’ve always been there, right beside you, like a shadow. We’re tethered.”

He repeats it as if you should know what that means and you can feel your eyes widening and filling with tears of confusion.

“I don’t know you,” you insist, almost in a sob, and he does look wounded, for his part.

“When you were born, so was I,” he explains and brushes a thumb across your cheekbone where a tear has spilled. “Every time a witch is born, a demon is assigned to them, of course. A friend, when they need it. A partner. A lover. A tether.”

“A witch?”

In the seconds you have to process it, it doesn’t seem completely insane. You have, after all, always known you were different. The birthday wishes that always came true, the way people had bad luck around you…

“Wait.” You manage to take a step back and it’s like whatever spell he had over you has broken.

The boy’s (Taehyung, you remind yourself) eyes widen in surprise. “Was it you who hurt my friends?”

Taehyung huffs out a breath and you hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to you, you can feel his breath on your neck until you manage another step back.

“Those humans weren’t your friends.”

You must look horrified because he frowns and crosses his arms. “Besides, you asked me to.” He pauses. “Most of them.”

“This is crazy,” you breathe, and when you take another step your back is flush against the pantry door.

He advances as if he were waiting for you to corner yourself but you can’t move, feel rooted in place again when he catches your eye.

“Dear one,” he croons, voice low and smooth, and his fingers leave trails like fire on your shoulder when he sweeps your hair back on one side. “If you had a mirror, I could show you your mark, just behind your ear.

There’s a raised place there, always has been, that you assumed was a rough patch of skin but when he runs the pad of his thumb across it, you shiver all over.

He takes your hand and you let him, going limp until he places your fingers above his left ear, a mirror to yours, running your fingers across the same rough patch.

“Tethered,” he whispers. “Betrothed, if you’d rather.”

You’re still afraid but somehow it doesn’t matter, when he’s touching you and you’re touching him and you lean forward, tilting your chin up and he makes a sound almost like a growl in the back of his throat.

“Don’t kiss me until you’re ready, dear one,” he warns, and your head feels fuzzy but you manage to frown.

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve been waiting a very long time,” Taehyung murmurs, brushing his nose against yours. “I’ve been your shadow, following, waiting, watching. Saw your first kiss, when that idiot lied to everyone and I pushed him off his bike for you. Saw the first time you laid with a man, someone who wasn’t yours, who could never be yours the way that I am. I had to make him go.”

There are alarm bells going off in your head but even though you’re not looking in those impossibly colored eyes anymore, you can’t make yourself move away.

“What do I have to be ready for?” You repeat, and he smiles.

“Everything.”

You lean up and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it because there are three things you’ve always known. 1. You’re different, 2. You’ve never belonged anywhere before, and 3. You’re desperately lonely. This beautiful man says he’s yours, says he was born for you and what does it matter if his eyes are red and his skin nearly glows? You’ve always wanted someone to be yours.

His mouth is as hot as the rest of him and you moan into it, wrapping your hands around his neck to get closer. His hands are in your hair, pressing your face to his and you’ve been kissed by several men but never like this, never hungry like this, like it’s the first and last time all at once.

He moves his lips to your throat, sucks a mark just over your pulse and you go limp in his arms when he all but carries you to your bedroom.

He doesn’t have to ask where it is, you suppose he watches you all the time instead of just when you’d felt it, when you’d sensed him.

Taehyung doesn’t take much care with your clothes, ripping the old tshirt you were wearing (an old boyfriend’s, you think, and you wonder if he knows that, too), kissing a fiery trail down between your breasts, dipping his tongue into your bellybutton and you cry out and for once don’t care if your roommate hears.

Your panties don’t fare much better than your shirt and when you force your eyes open to look you’d swear there’s a claw that’s slipping under your waistband, that the tongue that swipes across your clit is forked.

It isn’t when he kisses you, though, tasting of your juices after simply taking a deep breath against your cunt, growling like an animal and leaving jagged teeth marks along your inner thighs.

He slots his body against yours and you tug at his old fashioned clothes, frustrated because you’re bare beneath him and you can’t feel his skin.

Taehyung laughs into your mouth, tugs off his tunic and you were right, his skin is hot all over, seems to glow under your fingertips as you spread your hands across his chest.

“Dear one,” he breathes, looking down at you and you should be afraid to look in those copper colored eyes but this time you can move just fine, he isn’t rooting you in place like usual. There’s something in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, something deep and aching like longing that puts an ache right in the middle of your chest.

“I want you,” you whine, impatient, having someone who could finally, finally be yours making you arch your back, scratch at his shoulders to get him closer.

“You’re not ready,” he says, but his voice sounds weak and hoarse so you lock your ankles around his slim waist and he groans low in the back of his throat.

“You said that you’ve been waiting,” you plead. “You said that you’re mine.”

“Yes,” he says, simply, biting his lower lip and his teeth are sharp, it must have taken such care not to slice your skin.

“So give me what I want,” you order. “Do as I say.”

Taehyung chuckles, shakes his head and his curls make something like a halo around his face. It’s so ironic that you could laugh if you weren’t aching all over, your cunt pulsing around nothing.

“I’m not your puppet, dear one, just as you aren’t mine.”

“You don’t want me?” You can feel tears welling in your eyes and you’re not even sure why, maybe it has something to do with being alone for so long, to have him come and offer to take it away and then refuse you.

“No!” He bursts out and then the tears do start to fall and he groans, kisses them away and you’d swear they sizzled on your skin and wonder if you’d have burns all over you after this.

“Don’t cry, precious one. Of course I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I just...I want you to want me.”

“I do!” You cry.

He shakes his head again. “Not just your body. I want all of you, dear one. I want…” You’d think he were blushing if you weren’t sure it’s possible. “I want to devour you.”

“Then do it,” you say throatily. “I’m a witch, right? You won’t kill me.”

“Never,” he says fiercely. “Never, never.” He kisses all over your face, tenderly, even, and you marvel at how different it is for a moment before you spread your legs, press your body up so that your breasts brush against his bare chest.

“I trust you,” you tell him, and that isn’t all together true and again, he looks at you like he knows it, like he’s reading your mind.

“I hope you will, in time,” he says simply, and when he pulls away from you, you whimper but then your mouth starts to water when you realize he’s unbuttoning his pants.

He smirks a little when your eyes widen. “I’m not like the humans you’ve been slumming it with, dear one.”

Taehyung is big, in a decidedly inhuman way, veiny and thick and you sit up, fascinated. You’re no blushing virgin, but you’ve never seen anything like this.

Taehyung frowns a bit and maybe he can read your mind but when you take his cock in your hand his sharp intake of breath tells you that you’ve distracted him from it.

“I’m not afraid,” you tell him and he sits back on his knees, his hand again almost tender in your hair as you take the tip of him in your mouth.

Your jaw aches when you take more of him and you choke and gag a little when he groans, thighs trembling.

“Fuck,” he curses, his eyes seeming to glow red as you look up at him. “Such a sinful mouth to be so pretty and precious.”

You gag again, trying to take him further and being frustrated when you can’t.

“Want to fuck your precious mouth,” he growls. “Want to spill down your throat and then fuck your pretty cunt, too, leave you full of me.”

You scratch your nails down his thighs, look up at him and hope that whatever magic he has to read your mind makes him realize you want him to, and he moans, his hand tightening in your hair. His hips are hesitant at first but when you breathe in deep through your nose he snaps them harder, fucking your mouth, your throat and you can’t breathe and tears are streaming down your face but you don’t want him to stop, grabbing at his ass to get him deeper.

Just when you think that you might black out, something inhuman comes from deep in his chest and he spills hot on the back of your tongue, making you choke before pulling out, taking your face in his hands.

“Deep breaths,” he tells you, almost panicked. “Deep breaths, fuck, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, coughing a bit and wiping saliva off your mouth, smiling up at him, your head spinning just a little.

Taehyung sighs in relief, presses you back into the bed with his body, kissing the side of your face, down your throat. Instead of burning, now his kisses just fill you with warmth, it’s almost...comforting, like drinking hot chocolate or sipping warm soup.

You feel a bit out of it, but you’re sure that’s because you’ve realized a lot about the world and the underworld in the last hour and there’s some kind of incubus in your bed with his hands and mouth all over you. Plus, sometimes rough sex does that to you, makes you go all limp and fuzzy, like being high.

Your roommate called it subspace, although you’ve never been able to explore it much. You suppose Taehyung had put a stop to most of your relationships and you frown a little.

“So you didn’t like me dating, I suppose.”

Taehyung stiffens, lifting his head from where he’d been trailing kisses across the tops of your breasts to look at you.

“No, not much,” he admits, a little sheepishly.

“So you got rid of them.”

Taehyung tilts his head. “Not exactly. I just...pushed them along.”

“You can’t do that anymore,” you say.

Taehyung frowns. “I should hope not. You can’t date anyone else.”

“Why, because I have to date you?”

Taehyung’s frown deepens, almost a snarl, really.

“We’re not dating. We’re tethered. Always together. Never apart. But it would be cruel, now, dear one, to have other men in your bed.”

“Cruel? You’re a demon, don’t you like cruel?”

“We still have hearts and souls, you know,” he says, matter of factly, and you’re surprised into a laugh.

“Next you’re gonna tell me that you love me,” you tease.

Taehyung blinks. “Of course I love you. I was born to love you. To protect you.”

Your mouth drops open slightly, something hot trailing along your skin at his words. You’d never had anyone to love you, not really, except for your mother and she’d been mysterious and distant.

“Then love me,” you say sottly, and he kisses you, softly at first and then hungrily, desperately.

You feel his fingers, first, impossibly long, sliding into you and curling upward, making you cry out into his mouth.

“You’re so tight. I’ll split you open,” he groans at your ear, burying his face in your hair, breathing hard, and he’s hard against you already which definitely hasn’t been your experience with mortal men.

“Go slow,” you tell him, kissing his jawline.

“I don’t know if I can.”

You realize suddenly that given his explanation, you might be his first and something about it makes you giddy, makes him feel more yours, more tethered, just as he’d said.

“You wouldn’t hurt me. I trust you,” you say again, and it’s almost like dirty talk because he moans loudly, hips jerking against you, his cock sliding up your stomach before you reach down and guide him into you.

It takes a full minute to get him all the way inside you and he’s making the most sinful noises.

“I could rip you open if I wasn’t careful, dear one. So small and tight. Fragile and beautiful, like all precious things,” he babbles, and it’s uncomfortable when he starts to move but only for a moment, you’d always liked a little pain with your pleasure and it’s easy to get lost in it, arching your back when he lifts your hips to fuck you harder, crying out his name. You’re slick from earlier, from the way he’d fucked your throat and the way he’d touched and kissed you all over but he lasts longer than he did in your mouth, leaning down to catch your mouth with his and this time he does split your skin with his teeth, just your bottom lip, spreading blood across his mouth when he pulls away.

The blood trickling down your chin is what sends him over the edge and he calls your name, tucks his head into your neck and fucks you so hard you hear the headboard knock against the wall.

You come twice in rapid fire when he starts to roll his hips in earnest, and when he spills inside you it feels like heat blooming up your stomach to your throat.

After, you feel bruised and battered and sated, curling into his heat since your window is open, blowing cold breeze into your room.

You’d always felt like you ran a little hot, but now you think it might have just been his presence.

“Do you still trust me?” He asks, and your eyes are closed, your head resting on his chest, but you murmur out an agreement before you fall asleep.

The next morning, he’s gone but you have his teeth marks and the bruises he’d left on your skin to remind yourself it really happened, and hours later, when you worry too much about it, when it’s after midnight and you wonder if you’ve gone crazy, you close your eyes and wish.

“Dear one,” he says, and puts his hand on your face, and you smile.

The moment a witch is born, her familiar is born too, an incubus down in hell, tethered to her magic, her power. A witch can wish for a friend or a lover and the incubus will be either or both. What the incubus never will be though, is wished away.

You had made the same wish as your mother, and she knows it can be a difficult life, loving your familiar, so she worries for you.

It’s difficult, teaching Taehyung that he can’t hurt anyone who slightly irritates you, or have something terrible befall every man who hits on you, and it’s odd to explain to everyone that you’re taken by someone they can’t even see.

So anyway, that’s where the record should have scratched, but it didn’t, because this is real life and not some weird romantic comedy, some High Fidelity au in which it’s all about tattoos instead of music.

Jungkook fucking loves romantic comedies, but standing nearly six foot tall and wide from all the time he spends in the gym, not to mention a full sleeve with an eyeball on his bicep doesn’t make him seem like the type.

He smiles a little and leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter. He’d started doing this as a teenager, bit of a tip from Namjoon of all people, because it makes your biceps taut and makes you seem larger all at the same time.

Doesn’t work on you, though. In fact, you actually roll your eyes, and maybe his dick does actually twitch beneath his jeans that time.

“I’m looking for Yoongi.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Jungkook knows he’s being a shithead and his mouth keeps wanting to turn up at the corners. Yoongi doesn’t even take appointments. The tattoo shop had always been walk in.

You raise a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “He takes appointments now?”

Jungkook nods. “Lots of business lately, as you see.”

The lobby is completely empty except for the two of you.

You look around and give him a wry smile that he celebrates a little in the back of his head.

“I see.” You look at him for a moment, as if sizing him up, and then dart past him and he can see even more of your tattoo as you move, a well done one that isn’t fading in the least.

Jungkook sighs and stands up, peering through the back door as you interrupt Yoongi’s session and earn a curse but then a big hug, nonetheless.

Jungkook finds himself pouting just a little, he knows he just met you but you’re interesting and Yoongi gets all the interesting girls. They’re usually mean, too. Jungkook isn’t the only one with a penchant for sassy women.

Yoongi introduces you to Jungkook a few moments later.

“Oh, we’ve met.”

“Was he being a little shit?” Yoongi asks, but he gives Jungkook a fond smile.

“I would expect no less from one of your employees,” you say, and when Jungkook laughs it sounds goofy and his ears burn red when you give him a withering look.

“He’s a good kid,” Yoongi says easily. “So what do you want done now? You finally gonna get that-”

“The back piece, yeah,” you agree, and Jungkook perks up.

“I could help with line work, if it’s a big piece.”

Yoongi shoots him a look but you shrug.

“Whatever. Yoongi knows what I want. Hell, you can draw it up for me if you want, give it your best shot.” You lean just a little closer to him. “One condition, though.”

Jungkook’s breath catches but he tries his best not to show it.

“Yeah?”

You smile, a wicked one that just turns up one corner of your mouth. “Call me noona.”

You’re not mean, exactly. You just know what you want. More importantly, you know what you don’t want, and you don’t want some overgrown kid hitting on you while you’re trying to get a tattoo.

However, you’ve been friends with Yoongi for going on ten years, and you trust him with all your body art, so you have no reason not to trust his accomplice, no matter how irritating.

Thing that really sucks is that...well, he’s cute. Really fucking cute. Big doe eyes, bunny smile, big enough to throw you around but something tells you he wouldn’t without permission.

A little sassy, but that’s always fun at least in the bedroom…

You shake your head, realizing that you’ve been reading the same line from your dissertation over and over again. Entering grad school on the wrong side of your twenties wasn’t your plan, but you’d ended up with life experience that you considered worth the wait.

Now, you’re older than most of the friends you’d made (including Yoongi) and so your dating pool tends to be guys a bit younger than you as well, so it makes sense that you’d be attracted to the apprentice.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You know from the past few years you’ve spent having flings with young guys, especially ones that attractive, generally don’t work out and at worst, you end up hurt, so you’re not sure why you agreed to let him work on the back piece you’ve been planning for years.

Maybe you’re more of a masochist than you realized. Either that, or you just liked getting a rise out of him, noting how his ears turned red when you smiled or asked him to call you noona.

You’re woman enough to admit that it’s probably the latter.

You won’t be starting your new piece until after the weekend, though, and you’d rather stay at home and finish up your dissertation but your friends are dragging you out.

Your roommate, Luna, had all but begged you to come with her to karaoke but you’d staunchly refused, knowing that you’re the type to embarrass yourself after too many drinks. Not that you often partook in one too many drinks.

You like to have a semblance of control over your life, and you admit that seeps into your love life as well. Dating younger guys with little ambition means that you don’t actually have to commit, after all. It means that you hold all the cards, and you can take care of yourself when it inevitably doesn’t work out.

You suppose that if your life was a movie, this is around the time that the action would pause as you’re saying “no, I’m absolutely not going to karaoke with you, Luna,” and then it would cut to you, at a karaoke bar, drunkenly singing a Sheryl Crow song.

This isn’t a movie, though, and so it’s two shots before leaving the house and then a two block walk to a nearby bar, which definitely does not offer karaoke, Luna promises with wide, innocent eyes.

For a while, she’s right, but just as you’re taking your third shot, there’s suddenly speakers being set up in the back.

“Luna, goddamnit,” you mumble, turning around and smacking into a wall of chest.

“Excuse me, noona.”

The last word like honey, oozing charm and sass, and you scoff.

“Oh, God, not you.”

“Yep. Me!” Jungkook says cheerfully, leaning over you to order a drink and where does he get off being so big, anyway?

The alcohol is making you even grumpier than usual, and he smells good, freshly showered and with some sweet smelling cologne. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid, anyway? Weeks? Oh God, months?

Keep it together. He’s only a man. Barely a man, even, he’s just a kid in a man’s body, barely old enough to-

“Can I buy you a drink, noona?”

Jungkook blinks at you innocently but you’d swear he’s fighting a smirk.

“No,” you insist, but he does it anyway, just telling the bartender to bring another round of what you’d previously ordered.

He holds out his shot to toast you and you just glare at him.

“What do we have to toast to?”

“Our new and blooming friendship,” he says dryly, and this time you do snort out a laugh, despite yourself, and toast him before slamming your shot back.

He takes his with a little grimace that on any other man in any other circumstance would be quite cute.

“Don’t get it twisted. We’re not friends. This is a professional relationship.”

Jungkook nods but his eyes sparkle. “Yeah, of course. I’m a professional, noona.”

You choke on your mixed drink, but manage to cover it by clearing your throat. He has a way of calling you noona in the absolute brattiest way that makes your skin heat up.

“You gonna sing?” He asks, and you vigorously shake your head.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? Are you scared?”

You huff a breath out through your nostrils.

“Fuck you. No, I’m not scared. I just don’t like making a fool of myself.”

“Why don’t we make a deal?”

“Why don’t you fuck off?”

You’d blame it on the alcohol but this is often your knee jerk response, and Jungkook pouts a little and you soften.

Fuck, he is cute.

“Sorry, tequila makes me a bitch,” you apologize. “Fine, what kind of deal?”

Jungkook breaks into a big smile, then, as if all is forgiven and you stare at him for much longer than you’d intended.

“I sing first, then you sing. Just one song.”

You shake your head again but then he pouts again and the tequila is doing funny things to your head so you finally agree.

“Just one.”

You’d been wrong before. The true cut to you drunkenly singing karaoke should have come after Jungkook made the deal with you, because since you’ve been drinking and you’re in a place with lots of noise and people, it seems like you blinked and then Jungkook is singing karaoke, a ballad of all things.

An eighties ballad, and he has the voice of an archangel and what, you’re supposed to follow that?

Fuck that, you do hate him, despite his cute little poutit and bunny teeth and red ears when you smile at him. You’re trying to decide how to shimmy out the bathroom window when Luna, traitorous bitch that she is, comes dragging you out of the bathroom to sing.

It is, indeed, like in your movie fantasy, an old Sheryl Crow song that you used to sing when you were younger, and Jungkook applauds even louder than Luna.

“You know, you have a really pretty singing voice, noona.”

The term isn’t as biting or sarcastic as usual, at least, but you scoff, nonetheless and sit back in your booth.

Luna continues to be a traitorous bitch by inviting him to sit with the two of you and he pulls up a chair at the end of the booth.

“I’m serious. It’s like husky, kind of...sexy.” He turns the chair around to sit on it backwards, propping his forearms on the back and looking at you.

Your skin feels flushed and you blame it on the alcohol and the body heat of the bar.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

“You’re not good at accepting compliments.” Jungkook states, as if it’s a fact.

“Yes I am.” You argue, even though he might have a point.

“Hmm.” He keeps looking at you and you turn your face away, staring down into your mixed drink. “Do you go out a lot?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t.” You glare at Luna. “She made me.”

Jungkook laughs and then turns to Luna.

“Thank you, for bringing her out. It was nice to see you both.”

He stands up and you frown up at him.

“Where are you going?”

“Early morning. What’s the matter, noona? Don’t want me to go?”

You want to hit him. You want to kiss him.

You want to hit him because you want to kiss him, and you’re tipsy enough to realize that.

“I’ll see you on Monday. Don’t even think of fucking up my tattoo.”

Jungkook only gives you a slow smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, noona. I told you, I'm a professional.”

Jungkook had been instantly attracted to you, but he’s attracted to a lot of women who come through the doors of the tattoo shop. Particularly, the mean ones, and even more particularly, the mean, older ones.

Ever since he was young, he’d preferred the more experienced girls, and that was no different now that he was an adult. Every girlfriend he’d had was at least a few years older than him, and it wasn’t by accident.

At least, not exactly. He’d dated girls his age, too, of course, but when he thought of his perfect woman….it was someone both assertive and experienced, and by and large older women were more likely to have those qualities.

You happen to have those qualities and all the physical qualities he looks for in a lover, as well, so he isn’t surprised that he ends up being really and truly interested in you after seeing you at the bar.

He is surprised by how much he thinks of you the next day, and how anxious he is when he asks Yoongi if the two of you had ever dated.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”

“Hyung, please,” Jungkook whines, giving his friend the big doe eyes which usually gets him what he wants.

Yoongi groans. “You’re not gonna be this cute forever, kid, use it while you can.”

Jungkook gives him a big smile. “That’s what you always say, hyung.”

“No, we never dated. Just friends.”

Jungkook shifts his weight back and forth for a moment. “Does that mean I have a green light?”

Yoongi snorts. “With her?” He pats Jungkook on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what that means, but he’s grateful at least that you aren’t one of the mean girls Yoongi has dated, and he barely sleeps the night before you’re scheduled to come in for your first session.

He’s done the sketch that you wanted, a pretty elaborate piece with a lot of fine line art, and he does his best to keep it from getting wrinkled on his walk to the shop but his hands are sweaty and he’s nervous.

He had taken this job originally because he had no other options, but he has to admit that doing this sketch made him enjoy it much more than he’d anticipated.

You look over the sketch for what seems like an inordinately long time, but when you look back up at him, you smile.

“I love it, Jungkook.”

It makes his chest feel as if it’s swelling, the pride that he feels, and he thinks maybe Yoongi is right, that this job is something he’d enjoy.

Either that or he just really likes the way you smile at him.

Could be either, honestly. Jungkook doesn’t kid himself and fancy that he’s some kind of casanova. He doesn’t get a lot of girls, despite being attractive, and it’s mostly because he’s really more of a relationship guy.

He’d never reveal that to his younger friends, but it’s true that he believes in real romance, maybe even at love at first sight, so he doesn’t normally do things like one night stands or short flings. Maybe it’s uncommon for a man under 25 to be looking for love, but it’s just always the way he’s seen things.

You’re walking past him into the back room where the chairs are before he realizes it and he sputters.

“Ah, Y-Yoongi isn’t here, yet.”

You take off your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding it, before sitting down on the chair and resting your chin on the back of it. You look back at him while you’re unhooking your bra and he’s just gaping at you from the doorway like an idiot.

Jungkook isn’t a sixteen year old anymore, but he’d be lying if he said that the expanse of smooth skin on your back, the arch of your spine, didn’t appeal to him.

“Hyung will be here-”

You groan. “Shut up about Yoongi. You said you could do some of the line work, yeah? You can do the line work and sketch, he can do the color. Easy.”

Easy, you say. Easy. He’s never done a tattoo bigger than the size of a stamp due to Yoongi’s control issues, and yet you say easy.

He’s not about to tell you that, not about to give up the chance to do a bigger piece, so he applies the sketch to your back, checks the placement with you before loading up the gun with hands that tremble just slightly.

Your skin is so soft and smooth, freckles dusting your shoulders and when he puts his hand on the slope of your waist you giggle softly.

“Sorry. Ticklish.”

Jungkook finds himself just staring at you, wide eyed, before he clears his throat and more gently places his hand on your hip to steady you as he turns on the gun.

It’s meticulous, the line art, and he figures you’ll need a break before he’s halfway through the outline but you grit your teeth and hold on to the chair arms, shaking your head when he asks you and breathing out through your nose.

Jungkook’s impressed and...a little curious, if he’s honest with himself.

He manages to focus on the task at hand, which is more difficult than he’d imagined with all your bare skin under his palm. He gets the outer outline done on your large back piece when he sits back.

“I’m good, you can keep going.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Yoongi says multiple sessions are better so we can get it right.”

You turn your head just slightly on the back of the chair, smiling. “Do you always do what Yoongi tells you to do?”

He feels his cheeks heat up. “N-no.”

“Cute,” you mutter, and his ears feel hot now so he puts the gun away, takes off his gloves and stands up to clean up the tattoo, showing you in the mirror.

You stand there for a moment, looking, before slipping your bra off.

Jungkook chokes on air and looks down at the floor immediately.

You laugh softly. “Never expected you to be a gentleman.”

Jungkook doesn’t look up until he hears your shirt shift when you put it back on.

“I’m a professional, noona, I told you.”

You don’t break eye contact, and he wants to look down, busy himself with cleaning the instruments, but he doesn’t, waits.

Eventually, you just smile and walk out and Jungkook lets out a long breath.

This is fine. It’s fine. He learned to control his dick in high school, tattooing someone he finds intriguing and sexy should be no issue at all.

Yoongi finally shows up an hour late and Jungkook glares at him.

“I own the place,” he says with a mouthful of kimbap. “I come in when I want.”

Jungkook looks longingly at the to-go box Yoongi puts down on the back table and Yoongi rolls his eyes and shoves it toward him. “Spoiled,” he scolds, but he smiles.

Jungkook, grateful to be thinking about something other than your bare skin under his fingertips, shoves the food into his mouth.

“Did anyone come in?”

Jungkook swallows and nods, not looking up. “Your friend. Y/n.”

“Oh?”

Jungkook still isn’t looking up but he can feel the way Yoongi is looking at him, all smug.

“What? You weren’t here, I did her outline. It was fine.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jungkook does look up, scowling, and Yoongi chuckles.

“You should ask her out.”

Jungkook chokes on the pilfered kimbap and has to take a sip from his water bottle before responding.

“What? Why?”

“She’ll probably say yes.”

“What? No, she wouldn’t--what, no. I don’t even like her. She’s mean.”

The words are fumbling out of Jungkook’s mouth before he can think about them and Yoongi laughs again, louder, staring at him.

“Thought you liked mean girls.”

Jungkook groans and bangs his forehead against the table.

“Shut up.”

“So you’re not gonna ask her out?”

Jungkook feels his cheeks heat up. “No, it’s not like that.”

“So then I can ask her out?”

Jungkook startles and bangs his knee on the table, wincing as he frowns at Yoongi.

“I thought you were just friends.”

Yoongi shrugs and he’s still got this shit eating grin on his face. “You never know.”

Jungkook huffs and stands up. “I’m going to hit the gym and come back after lunch, since I covered for you this morning.”

Yoongi waves a dismissive hand at him, rifling through some sketches Jungkook had brought in for various tattoos.

“These are actually pretty good,” he mutters, and Jungkook rolls his eyes, knowing that the comment wasn’t meant to praise him but more of Yoongi’s inner monologue.

He supposes he’s flattered, nonetheless, but he feels antsy, like he needs to move and stop thinking.

Yoongi grunts. “Yah, get out, go do your meathead thing before you start bouncing off the walls.”

Jungkook doesn’t have to be told twice, all but bolting out of the building and walking to the gym. It’s six blocks away, but at least it’ll give him something to do.

He doesn’t know why he told Yoongi he didn’t like you, especially when he’d just had a revelation about how much he did like you. It was some stupid knee jerk reaction, not wanting to admit he had a crush on Yoongi’s friend. It isn’t as if he hadn’t had crushes in the past, even a few small ones on his friend’s girlfriends, not that he would have ever admitted it out loud.

He’s not sure he’s ever so instantly had a crush, though, the way he had with you. You’d walked in the door, said something snarky, and it was like his brain turned to mush.

You’re so very clearly not interested that he feels like it’s stupid to even consider what Yoongi said. You’re so self assured and mature and hell, he has no idea what he even wants to do with his life.

Jungkook is good at a lot of things, but not very good at anything, or so he believes. A jack of all trades is often a master of none, and it makes Jungkook’s stomach roll to think of not being the best at whatever he chooses as a career. He’s handsome, he’s fun, but long term? What can he offer a woman like you? A roll in the hay and a couple of drinks down at the karaoke bar?

He shakes his head as he walks into the gym, not wanting to think about it further.

It’s not as if you hate Jungkook, not exactly, anyway. It’s more that you’re annoyed by his confidence and flirty behavior, especially now that you realize he has no plans on doing anything about it.

You’d come back into the tattoo parlor when you’d passed Yoongi’s car, wanting to say hello to your friend, and managed to overhear what Jungkook said. You’d gone back to your car, fuming, but ended up coming back into the shop anyway.

He said you were mean? You’re aware that you’ve been told that before, and you’ve laughed it off, but someone it seems more serious coming from Jungkook. You’re still stewing about it in the lobby when Yoongi meanders in from the back.

“Oh, shit. Why didn’t you call for me? I didn’t know you were waiting.”

“Just forgot to get the lotion stuff,” you mutter, and that part is true, at least mostly.Maybe you’d wanted to make Jungkook blush one last time, but apparently that makes you mean.

Yoongi rifles through the cabinets behind the desk for a moment before sitting a bottle on the counter.

You pull out a few bills to cover it but he waves you away.

“Aw, I get special treatment?” You tease, feeling a little better when Yoongi gives you a gummy smile.

“Nah, no special treatment. You’re gonna buy all my drinks tonight.”

You scoff. “You drink like a fish, that’ll cost a lot more than this lotion.”

“I’ll take some off your tat, too. C’mon, you can meet my friends.”

“I don’t know if I want to meet any more of your friends.”

Yoongi tilts his head at you curiously. “What, you don’t like Kook? He’s a good kid.”

You make a harrumph sound under your breath and Yoongi just laughs.

“Fair enough. I promise you’ll have a good time.”

“You know what that means.”

Yoongi stares at you blankly.

You grin. “You have to dance with me.”

Yoongi lets out the most exaggerated groan and you can’t help but laugh.

“That’s the rules, Yoongs. I buy your overpriced booze, and you dance with me.”

“One dance.” He bargains, and you shake your head.

“All the dances.”

“You’re terrible at compromise.”

You shrug. “You can buy your own drinks, then.”

“Okay, okay! You got me, I’ll do it. I’ll dance with an attractive woman, God, I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Aw, Yoongi, you say the sweetest things.”

Yoongi has the good grace to flush a little, and it makes you happy.

“Meet me here after close at ten.”

Hey, punk, come out with us tonight. 10:30 at the Dirty Dozen.

Jungkook sees the text around 9, which doesn’t give him a whole lot of time to get ready, and he goes back and forth about whether to attend at all for about half an hour before he reckons that anything is better than pretending to watch television and being mad at himself for developing yet another crush on someone way out of his league.

He doesn’t do much but slick back his hair and put on a pair of jeans instead of sweats, opting for just a simple t-shirt and his boots instead of something more formal. The Dirty Dozen is a dive bar even on the weekends, and it’s a Thursday night.

When he arrives, he’s almost an hour late and everyone has clearly already been drinking, Taehyung greeting him by enveloping Jungkook in a bear hug that almost bruises his ribs.

Jungkook hasn’t been around the entire crew for a few weeks, so there’s lots to catch up on, and he doesn’t notice that Yoongi is absent until he's poured himself a second beer and taken a shot with Jimin.

The lights in the bar seem to swirl a bit when he turns around to look at him and Jungkook makes a mental note to drink water before the next drink. He knows well enough that among his friends, refusing another drink this early in the night outright would be near blasphemy, but he can at least take a break.

“Where’s Yoongi-hyung?” He asks finally. The bar is surprisingly packed for a weekday and he doesn’t see him at any of the nearby tables.

“Probably snuck out with that girl,” Jimin suggests, leaning over the bar to try and get the bartender’s attention. It’s 50/50 whether he’s trying to order a drink or flirt with her.

Hoseok laughs and nods. “The mean one?”

Jungkook suddenly feels like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “Wait. What girl?”

“Oh, there they are.” Taehyung takes Jungkook’s shoulder in his hand to pivot him toward the dance floor, and Yoongi doesn’t dance, so Jungkook hadn’t even thought of looking in that direction.

In fact, hardly anyone danced at the Dozen, save Jimin or Hoseok while they were romancing one of the various girls they picked up there. Tonight, though, there’s a few couples on the dance floor, some low and sultry R&B playing on the jukebox.

Jungkook sees Yoongi’s bleached hair first, his hand on your hip and he’ll admit that for a few seconds all he can look at are the long expanse of your legs in the white skirt you’re wearing.

He’s not jealous. He’s absolutely not jealous, because that would make no sense. Sure, he thinks you’re gorgeous and witty and well, a little mean, just the way he likes his partners, but he’s not jealous when Yoongi puts both hands on your hips, pulls you back against him to whisper something in your ear that makes a grin spread across your face.

“Is Kookie drunk?” Taehyung whispers, but of course this is Taehyung and he whispers like he was raised in a saw mill, so Jungkook gives him a harsh stare and downs what’s left of his beer.

“Of course not. Jimin, order us shots. My treat.”

The guys whoop and yell and Jungkook refrains from taking a look back to the dance floor with real effort. He’s out with his friends, and what you and Yoongi are up to is frankly none of his business, even if it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up to think about it.

Thinking is for morons, anyway.

The night flies by for you, and you’re not surprised. You always have a good time with Yoongi; there’s a reason you’ve been friends for so long. Yoongi appreciates your sense of humor and gives back any mean comment you give him. He’s also, despite his distaste for doing it in public, a great dancer, and the other guys are all fun and sweet, as well. You find yourself not thinking about Jungkook and his dumb big wide doe eyes and his stupid muscles and how he called you mean. Even when he shows up, fashionably late, you just roll your eyes and try to ignore him, which is easy enough because he’s doing his level best to pretend that you don’t exist most of the night.

You end up sitting at a table near the jukebox with Yoongi, having switched to water around 1 a.m. Yoongi has promised to walk you back to your hotel room and what the hell, you might just fuck around and invite him up. The only reason you and Yoongi haven’t hooked up before tonight is because one or both of you have been in relationships most of your friendship. You’re pretty sure he’ll say yes, too, and you’re trying to remember if you’re wearing matching underwear or not when one of Yoongi’s friends (Hoseok, you think) is whispering something in his ear.

Yoongi mutters a curse under his breath and takes your elbow. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

You frown but nod and he’s swept off by his friend.

You wait for a while but you’re definitely not known for your patience so eventually you see the cluster of men at the bar, and one of them, Namjoon, if you remember correctly, is heaving another off a barstool to piggyback him.

You smile a little, figuring one of them drank too much, and it’s sweet how they all come together to help out.

“Kid forgot how to drink, I guess,” Yoongi mutters, but he’s smiling a little.

You realize belatedly that it’s Jungkook that’s being carried out, when he turns his head at Yoongi’s voice and his glassy eyes lock on yours.

He narrows them, scrunching his nose a bit and you’re struck yet again by how very cute he is.

“Mean,” he slurs, and despite the alcohol flowing through you, it’s a bit of an arrow through your heart.

You open your mouth, about to say that you’re not mean, thank you very much, but then he sighs and puts his chin on the elder man’s shoulder.

“Pretty, though.”

The younger two are laughing as they help Namjoon take Jungkook out to a car.

“They’re going to eat,” Yoongi explains as you stare out the door they left through. “You wanna go?”

You shake your head. “I better not. Have some work to finish up in the morning.”

It’s a lie, but your heart is racing in this weird way and you feel down all of a sudden.

Yoongi walks you back to your hotel, and you’re just about to invite him up when he leans over at the elevator to kiss your cheek. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You almost want to pout, but he’s turning away as the elevator door closes and he’s right, it’s for the best, with the mood you’re in.

You don’t like Jeon Jungkook. Not one bit, especially the fact that he had the ability to affect your mood so easily.

When you return to the tattoo parlor in two days, Yoongi is the only one there.

“You ready?” He asks easily, and you can’t help but frown. Maybe you don’t like Jungkook, but he started this tattoo, and if he was a professional as he so often reminded you, shouldn’t he finish it?

“Jungkook was supposed to finish the outline.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and hands you his phone. “You wanna call him and yell at him?”

You flush just slightly but then nod. Yoongi knows you’re not one to have someone else do your dirty work.

“Hyung, I know I’m late-” Jungkook answers.

“I’m waiting for you.” You blurt out, and there’s dead silence on the line. “Hello?”

“Ah, is this-this isn’t-” He stammers.

“You’re supposed to finish the outline. You’re a professional, remember?”

“I-I’m coming. I mean, I’m on my way.”

“You better be,” you mumble, and he makes a sound in the back of his throat.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You hand Yoongi back his phone and he’s shaking his head, smiling.

“What?” You ask, pouting.

“You’re gonna eat him alive.”

You can’t help the way your mouth turns up at one corner, even though you don’t answer.

Jungkook’s hands are absolutely not shaking because you’re in a chair with your shirt off, again, or because your very proximity makes him nervous. He’s probably still hungover from the other night.

While that might be true, the way you shiver when he puts a hand on your waist to steady your position, just like before, he draws in a sharp breath.

“What’s the matter, Jungkook?”

There’s something about the way you say his name that makes his hand tighten at your waist instinctively.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, turning on the tattoo gun, but this time you keep talking instead of being quiet while he works.

“You’re a professional.”

“Wh-what?” He pauses just before touching the needle to your skin.

“That’s what you always say. ‘I’m a professional, noona.’ What, I can’t tease you anymore?”

“N-no. You shouldn’t.” Jungkook huffs, and touches the pen to the outline where he’d left off earlier that week.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you dating hyung now?”

You snort out a laugh. “What? Yoongi?”

“Yeah, Yoongi,” Jungkook grumbles, and you don’t fail to notice how he drops the honorific.

You feel oddly giddy, as if it means anything that a guy you barely know is a little territorial.

“No, I’m not dating Yoongi. You think I should ask him out?”

“No!” Jungkook cries, his voice a little high pitched. He pauses tattooing only for a second to readjust before the buzzing starts, vibrating along your skin again. “I mean...whatever. If you want to.”

You twist your head slightly, being careful not to move your torso. He’s looking down at your back but the tips of his ears flush red.

“Are you jealous, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook shifts in his seat and pulls the needle off your skin again. You take a deep breath, it had begun to be a bit uncomfortable, so you’re grateful for the break.

“Kind of,” Jungkook admits, and you’re shocked. When he finally looks up at you, his eyes are wide and earnest.

You feel giddy all over again.

“Is that so?”

Jungkook’s hand tightens on your waist, sending a thrill through you that makes you jerk.

“Stay still, noona.” A pause before he cups your chin in his hand to turn your head toward the wall again. His voice seems lower, more confident, like when you’d first met. “Be professional.”

Your mouth goes dry and you manage to sit out the rest of the outline.

It’s only after you’ve applied the ointment you’d bought from Yoongi and put your shirt back on that he’ll look you in the face again.

“You told me I was pretty.” You blurt out.

Jungkook’s eyes widen further and he sticks his tongue out to wet his lips. You watch his mouth far too long.

“I-I didn’t,” He stutters, and you wonder if he always stutters when he’s nervous.

Just another thing to add to the list of things that Jungkook does that are almost unbearably cute, along with that nose scrunch. Not that you have a list in your head like that. Of course not. (You do.).

“The other night, at the bar. You said I was mean, but pretty.”

Jungkook frowns. “You are mean.”

You take a step closer to him, looking up at him from beneath your eyelashes. “And?”

“And what?” His voice gets softer as he looks down at you, as you slowly place your palms on his chest.

“Mean, but-”

“Pretty,” he breathes, chest rising beneath your palms and you can’t help yourself. You lean up and kiss the corner of his mouth, and when he doesn’t pull away, just making a choked sound in the back of his throat, you kiss the other corner.

You’d planned on just teasing him a little, but you find yourself swaying closer, just barely brushing your lips against his.

Jungkook takes in a deep breath through his nostrils and then dips his head to press his mouth harder against yours, slipping his tongue past your lips.

You moan into his mouth and press your nails into his chest and his hands go to your waist, just where he always steadies you before your tattooing sessions.

He makes this noise almost like a whine in the back of his throat and it spurs you on, makes you kiss him again, working your tongue against his and it’s messy and dirty and exactly how you like it.

You’ve always been a bit aggressive when you kiss and otherwise, so you can’t help threading your fingers through his long hair, tugging it gently to get him closer, and he breathes in through his nose and kisses you deeper, even hungrier, his hands steady on your hips, not roaming like you’ve had other guys do.

He’s the one that pulls away first and you make a disappointed sound, pouting. He doesn’t see it, though, burying his face against your neck.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, and he shakes his head against your skin so you put your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, tug him toward you and you press against him and you can feel him hard against your stomach.

He moans against the skin of your neck, kissing there open mouthed and you gasp, surprised.

“Are you shy, Jungkook-ah?” You croon, stroking his hair now instead of pulling it, and you just know that if you could see them the tips of his ears would be red.

“D-don’t be mean,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh.

“But Jungkook, I think you like it when I’m mean.”

He doesn’t respond but he lifts his head and yes, his ears are red and it delights you. He opens his mouth and then closes it again before nodding.

“Do you want to fuck me on Yoongi’s tattoo chair?” You ask nonchalantly, and Jungkook sputters.

“I-” He starts, and then stops again, taking another breath in through his nostrils to calm himself.

Fuck, he’s cute.

“Yes,” he finally finishes, as if he can’t manage more than a few words and the way he’s so worked up after only a kiss makes heat rush through you.

In the end, you have to push at his chest to get him to move, leading him to sit down on the chair so that you can straddle him, kissing along his collar bone, sucking and biting until his hips buck up beneath you.

His hands go to his belt, scrabbling at the buckle and you giggle softly and help him, palming him through his boxers after you release him from the confines of his jeans.

“God, fuck, Y/n,” he groans low in his chest and you’re sure your panties are soaked. His hands finally seem to be roaming like you’d expected, his fingers tracing the tattoo on your thigh.

You pull away only long enough to discard your shirt again and his eyes drop to your breasts immediately, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

He’s already hard beneath your hand when you put his hand on your hip, sliding his fingers underneath.

“Rip them off,” you order, and Jungkook finally moves his eyes from your breasts to your face, hesitating.

You tilt your head. “Come on, you’re strong enough, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” he answers, chin jutting out as if he’s offended, and he rips them on either side, pulling them out from under you and looking down at your bare sex.

“Are you clean?” You ask, and he doesn’t answer, still staring down at you so you tug on his hair, harder than before and he whines, looking up at you with those big eyes.

“Wh-what?”

“Are you clean?” You ask, more harshly. “Are you so eager to fuck me that you can’t even answer a question?”

“F-fuck.” He pauses as if struggling to think. “Yeah, clean. I’m clean.”

You tug his hair again. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Jungkook?”

His mouth is parted, gaze a bit glassy when he looks at you, shaking his head.

“No, noona. Wouldn’t lie.”

You favor him with a smile and he smiles back, bunny teeth showing just a bit.

“Good. Now be a good boy and stay still.”

Jungkook’s thighs tremble where you’ve pulled his jeans down but he stays still, just staring at you.

He makes a distressed noise when you slide off him, but then his eyes widen when you get on your knees, put your hands on his thighs.

“I’m going to suck you off, but you’re not allowed to cum. Got that?”

Jungkook nods dumbly but when you tug his boxers down and circle his cock with your fingers, he closes his mouth, makes a muffled moan and God, he’s so hot, you haven’t been with anyone in so long and definitely no one this...well, pliable.

He’s bigger than you would have thought, although not overly so, mostly his dick is just pretty, just like his face. You flatten your tongue against the seam of his balls first, working your way up until you take the head into your mouth, tasting precum on your tongue.

“Ah, fuck,” Jungkook breathes, and his thighs flex under your hands and you squeeze and his hips buck, just a little, but enough to make you gag.

“Oh no,” he gasps, sounding distressed. “N-noona, I’m sorry.”

Instead of responding you hum around him, taking him deeper and then sliding up, making a vacuum of your mouth.

Jungkook is breathing hard at first but then starts to hold his breath, going stiff, but you keep bobbing your head until he shifts to take your face in his hands.

“Noona, please, I’m gonna-”

You come off him and he gasps in a breath as if he’s relieved but you don’t give him time to recover, just bunch your skirt around your hips and straddle him again, this time guiding his dick so that it slides through your slick, working the head of it against your clit and watching his face.

His eyes are open and wide, mouth parted, face flushed a pretty rose.

You knew he’d look so pretty like this, and he does and you can’t help but say it.

“So pretty,” you murmur, feeling hot all over, as if you might cum just from the way his dick feels against you and how he’s looking at you.

“Pl-please,” he pleads in a choked whisper and when he screws his eyes shut you shift your hips to guide him inside of you and then grab his chin in your hand to part his mouth further, kissing him hard and sloppy.

While he’s distracted you shift to guide him inside you, sliding down on his length slowly as he gasps into your mouth, his hips twitching beneath you but not bucking like you’d expected.

“Good,” you murmur, nipping at his bottom lip, and his hands tighten at your hips.

“Noona,” he whispers, cheeks flushed, big eyes looking up at you as if embarrassed.

“Hmm?” You rock your hips forward and he makes a strangled noise and locks his hands tighter on your hips.

“I um, I’m g-gonna-”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his stutter, his adorable face. All these muscles and a big dick and still such a baby.

“Gonna blow, baby?” You rock forward and back again, ignoring the sting of his thumbs at your hip bones.

“Ah-don’t-”

He looks so distressed that you stop, frowning a little.

“You’re okay, Jungkook? You want me to stop?”

“No!” He bursts out in a gasp and it makes you giggle. You’re a little lightheaded from how close you are to an orgasm. “No, no, I don’t want you to stop. I just don’t want to-”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, leaning to kiss along his jawline before biting down at his throat. “You can cum, I don’t mind.”

“B-but-”

“I think it’s sexy, how you’ve barely gotten inside me and you’re already close to bursting. You like my cunt, Jungkook-ah?”

“God,” he whimpers, throwing his head back. “Yes. Yes, noona, I love it.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” you mumble against his skin, your hips starting to move again as he heaves in deep breaths. “You can cum inside me, but then you have to clean me up.”

“Ah,” he sighs as if relieved. “Of course, I-”

You lift your head to look at him as you swivel your hips in a wider circle, making his cock pull almost out of you before sliding back in.

“With your tongue.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathes, pupils blown as he looks at you and then down at your breasts bouncing as you pick up the pace. “Fuck, you are mean.”

You give him a fake pout.

“It’s just what’s fair, Jungkook. You make a mess, you clean it up. If you don’t want to, I could stop, take care of things myself-”

Jungkook shakes his head fervently. “No, please, fuck, don’t stop.”

If he lasts just a few moments more, you’re sure you could reach your orgasm too but the way he looks he’s too far gone, mouth slack, his hands now bouncing you on top of him and he cries out before you get there. You can feel him pulsing inside you and you moan, not at all disappointed but a little frustrated.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m s-sorry,” he manages, and you find his stutter so cute you can barely stand it, can’t help yourself from breaking your mean girl character to kiss him.

You wait until his breathing regulates before sliding off of him, standing on shaky legs. It has been a while since you’ve done this.

Jungkook stares at you dumbly, mouth still open, until you nudge him with your foot.

“C’mon, we’ve only got a while before Yoongi comes back.”

Jungkook stands abruptly, movements a bit delayed as he zips up his jeans with a wince.

“Oh, shit, hyung will be back, I should-”

You narrow your eyes at him. “We had a deal.”

Jungkook swallows. “Uh, yeah, I remember.”

You sit down on the chair again, this time planting your feet on either side of you, scooting down to the edge a bit ungracefully, but it’ll do.

He freezes for a moment, looking back at the door, but it’s locked for your privacy since you had to remove your shirt for the session.

“Jungkook,” you whine, exasperated, your skin feeling tight and hot.

He finally turns back toward you, looking down at your exposed pussy and licks his lips before kneeling in front of you.

He doesn’t put his mouth on you right away, instead kissing along your thighs, sliding a finger inside you to push his cum back inside you and you hit your head against the chair back a little hard when you throw your head back.

“Fuck.”

Maybe you’re in more trouble than you realized.

Jungkook can’t deny that he’s somewhat...nervous about all of this. Up to this point, he’d been convinced you either didn’t like him or were completely uninterested in him.

It isn’t as if he isn’t experienced, but he’s never done this, exactly, although in most of his relationships his partner “took the reins” quite often, this is different.

He feels ashamed in the most delicious way, and he thinks maybe Yoongi is right about his penchant for mean girls, after all.

Jungkook had tasted his own cum, of course, doesn’t everyone get curious? But something about eating it out of you makes him feel even more ashamed, his face hot as he slides his fingers inside you.

You seem to like what he’s doing, your hips rolling to get him deeper, but after only a few moments you huff out a breath and say his name in that scolding way you have that makes his cock twitch in his jeans all over again.

“Jungkook.”

He lifts his head from where he’d been planting open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs and blinks at you.

“You’re supposed to be cleaning me up, not making a bigger mess.”

Jungkook groans, his face feeling flushed and tingly.

“S-sorry,” he manages, and lowers his head again to suck onto your clit.

You hiss and put your hands in his hair, not pulling like you had before pressing his face more deeply into you so that he has to breathe through his mouth.

You’re slick with your own pleasure and his cum and it’s messy and sloppy and he didn’t know he was into that but his body is certainly reacting, he’s half hard again already like a horny teenager.

After your thighs start trembling around his head and you let loose of his hair, he slips his tongue lower, tasting himself salty along with your taste, moaning against you, his nose slipping against your clit and you’re cursing and roling your hips and he’s almost dizzy.

He does clean you up, does just like you ask even after you’re pulsing around his tongue and fingers and whimpering.

When he finally lifts his head he knows his face must be covered, but you wrap your legs around him and sit up to kiss him roughly.

Something strange starts happening to his heart, a skip and an ache, when he wonders if all of this was just physical, and why should it matter anyway?

He asks, anyway, when you pull away smiling.

“N-noona. Do you...do you even like me?”

You tilt your head as if considering, but you’re still smiling.

“Maybe.”

“I’m serious.” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from you and gathering your discarded clothes.

You laugh but it doesn’t seem to be at him, exactly, and that’s a relief.

He’s busying himself folding your clothes when you touch his hand.

“Jungkook. I like you.”

He frowns, disbelieving. “Then why are you so mean to me?”

You smile and then hide your face for a second before peeking at him between your fingers.

It’s cute. You’re cute and he kind of hates how it makes his heart skip again.

“Don’t you like it when I’m mean, Jungkook-ah?”

Fuck. You’ve got him there.

“Not...not all the time.” He protests.

You nod slowly. “Okay. So I won’t always be mean. I can be pretty nice when I want to be.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you and you laugh, sit up still half naked, breasts bared and unashamed, and pull him to you by his belt loops.

“Want me to show you?”

You’ve got his jeans unzipped and your hand down them when there’s a banging on the door.

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Yoongi yells.

Jungkook groans loudly and you giggle before gingerly zipping his pants back up over a very obvious erection.

You slide your clothes back on and slip on your shoes before opening the door unceremoniously.

Jungkook yelps and turns around, face flushed and embarrassed, tugging down his too small shirt to hide it.

“Oh,” Yoongi says, taking in the scene.

Jungkook cannot look at him, he’s humiliated and not because he’s been caught, with a group of friends like theirs he’d walked in on worse, but because Yoongi was right, goddamnit.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s been a while,” Suho addresses you formally as he gets up from his desk and shuts the doors, locking them.

“Well, you called me, so I came,” you respond smoothly.

You uncross your legs seductively and leave them slightly open, opting not to wear any panties underneath your skirt. His eyes dart over to your legs, and you watch them trail steadily to the center between your legs. He chuckles and gets out of his chair, his dick already hard and ready as he walks towards you. 

“God, you are divine,” he purrs, getting on his knees.

He kisses you, and you instantly feel warm and tingly all over. His hands reach your cheeks, deepening his kiss and pulling you in closer while you are unbuttoning your shirt. He trails his lips down to your jawline and continues to place soft kisses on your neck.

“Did you miss me?” he asks in between kisses.

“Of course I did,” you respond honestly.

You can feel his smirk on your skin as he starts sucking on your neck, taking you by surprise. Your neck is a sensitive spot, and he knows this is one of the fastest ways to get you to under his spell. Your nipples harden, and your sweet core is aching for his touch. Your hand slides under your skirt, and softly rubs your clit through your panties. He notices this and pushes your hand away, causing you to whimper. 

“You are not allowed to touch yourself until I say so,” he commands. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

You pout a little, and he catches your frown. He swiftly stands you up and walks you over to his desk, bending you over. He lifts your skirt and rubs your bare cheeks.

“You know how I feel about you acting bratty, ” he says cooly. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I was just so disappointed—”

“Ah, ah,” he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hear it. You know the rules, princess.”

You turn to look at your reflection in the large office mirror, and you see him loosening his tie. He takes it and shoves it in your mouth until your cheeks puff outward. 

“You get three licks because of your behavior. Understood?”

You nod and brace yourself for what’s about to come.

“One.”

He slaps your ass with his big hands, and you hold on to the desk, gripping the edges tightly.

“Two.”

The slap is more formidable, leaving a sting and one of his fingers accidentally brushes against your slit, exposing your wetness.

“You are so needy,” he comments, gearing for another smack.

“Three.”

The last slap was harder, leaving a more lasting effect than the previous sting. He massages your derriere, calming the sensation, and then slips two fingers inside of you. You grip on the desk further, hiking your leg onto the desk, wanting to feel more of them inside of you. His finger thrusts are slow, twisting around inside of you, almost mechanical. He pulls your hair and pushes them deeper inside of you. Your walls tighten, and you almost cry out, forgetting momentarily about the tie still stuffed inside of your mouth. 

“You do like that baby?” he asks you seductively. “You do like the way my fingers feel deep inside this tight pussy?”

You nod feverishly, bewitched by the sinful way he is finger fucking you into oblivion. Your walls contract around his fingers, eyes rolling back as your orgasm ripples through you, making a mess on his fingers and his shoes. He chuckles, sliding his fingers out slowly as you come down from your high, breathing heavily with that fabric still stuffed firmly into your mouth. He looks over at the mirror, looking at your thoroughly fucked out face, and slowly takes his tie out of your mouth. He takes you off of the desk and turns you around, pausing before kissing you once more. 

“You took those fingers so well for me,” he says as he unbuckles his pants. 

He looks at his watch, his eyes widening a little bit. You lean back against the desk, lifting your leg to touch his hardened erection with your foot. He holds on to it, palming himself with your foot, not losing eye contact. 

“My next meeting will be in 10 minutes, so we will have to make this quick,” he warns.

He grabs by your waist and walks you over to his massive window overlooking the city. He presses your body on the cold glass, sucking the skin of your neck and harshly rubbing on your over-sensitive clit. He enters you from behind, slamming into you with such force that you thought the glass was going to break. He is animalistic, pummeling into your tight core, the sounds of skin slapping, and moans filling the office. You don’t care who hears you or sees you out the window, your blood is pumping, and you are drunk on ecstasy.

“You have to be a little quieter princess,” he rasps, digging his nails into your hips. 

“I’m… sorry,” you choked, at a loss of words.

He increases his pace and rubs your clit once again, sending you over the edge. You shudder uncontrollably, covering your mouth as you scream his name. He sucks air through his teeth and stiffens, moaning your name into your sweaty neck, flooding himself into you. You feel hazy, almost drunk, totally out of breath. You step away from the window, and your legs are shaking, struggling to keep your balance. He takes notice and sits you down on his office chair, gathering your clothes and helping you put them on.

“This was… fun,” you admit, buttoning up your shirt. 

“It’s always a good time with you,” he reminisces as he is making himself presentable again.

You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully, and he pulls in you for one last kiss, grabbing a handful of your butt as he does.

A voice cuts through his office phone, telling him that his meeting is about to start soon. You step away from him, grabbing your belongings before unlocking the door. You turn around and take one last good look at him, watching him get ready. You nod at the secretary once more before departing to the elevators and exiting the building. Your core throbs a bit more, wishing you could have him again even though you just finished, but you set in your mind that it will have to be another time and start heading home. 

8:11 pm

You just got the shower after a long day, and you climb into bed, snuggling on your side of the bed. You hear your front door alarm go off, which means that your husband is finally home from work. You listen to him set his things down on the counter, and then his footsteps get louder until he reaches the room. For some reason, you are more anxious than usual, twiddling with your thumbs until he walks into the room.

“Hi, babe,” you greet him with a smile. 

“Hey, love,” he responds, walking over to you with a soft kiss.

“How was your day,” you inquire, now sitting up on the bed.

“It was… great.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then you both burst into laughter, him collapsing on top of you in the bed. 

“You should come up to my office more often. Today was one for the books. I’m sure even my secretary heard us.”

You are mortified that she might have heard you, and you are not sure how you will look her in the eyes again. That thought is cut short, however, when you notice him pulling handcuffs out of pocket. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day since you left me,” he coos, reaching under your shirt.

“Are you ready for round 2?”

You take off your shirt, exposing your breasts freely and throwing your t-shirt in his face. You slide off your pajamas and panties, dropping them onto the floor.

“Does that answer your question?”