#1kwords

Seokjin

You tell him in a rush, that you've taken five tests and you can't get false positives anyway and you know this is bad timing and oh god, you're rambling.

He just looks at you, blinking rapidly. "It… It's mine?"

Your heart drops to your toes before anger floods through you.

"What the fuck did you just ask me?"

"No! No wait I'm sorry, take that back." Seokjin makes an exaggerated fishing reel motion and usually that would make you laugh but you just stare at him stonily.

You wipe angrily at your eyes and he moves closer to you on the couch.

"Don't cry, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I was just...I was surprised."

"Yeah, me too! Of course it's yours, you jerk, I can't believe you asked me that."

"I am a jerk," he agrees, pulling you into his lap.

You bury your face in his chest, hiccuping sobs. 

"Such a jerk," he murmurs, rubbing circles on your back. "Of course it's mine, because you're mine and everything's gonna be okay. No matter what you decide, we'll get through it, yeah?"

It's easier after that, Seokjin indulges your every food craving, getting up to cook for you at 2am if you decide you need it.

At the first ultrasound, he’s cracking jokes and making you laugh but when the heartbeat starts up he just goes really quiet.

“Jinnie?” You call softly.

When he takes your hand, his is shaking a bit and when you look up at him, he’s crying these big tears.

“We should get married,” he says, and you hit him with the heel of your hand.

“You can’t propose to me when I’m in stirrups on a fucking metal bed, Seokjin!”

He just gives you this dashing smile, so you roll your eyes and say yes.

He becomes fascinated with how full your breasts are getting, loves cupping them in his hands, how extra sensitive your nipples get when he runs his tongue over them, how they turn a duskier color after a few months.

They just keep getting fuller over the coming months and the way you start filling out your shirts makes him crazy.

When you complain about how much weight you're gaining he scoffs, makes you all your favorites, makes a point to kiss every part of you that night in bed.

Yoongi

He’s quiet for a long moment after you tell him, looking down at his hands in his lap. When he does speak, his tone is soft and calm.

“Are you...are you going to keep it?”

Your mouth drops open a bit, and when he looks up at you his eyes go wide and he fumbles for your hand.

“No, no, that’s not how I meant it. I mean, do you want to keep it?”

“Do you want to keep it?”

His throat works and he looks away from you again.

“I...you’re not supposed to ask me that. It’s your body and you-”

“I’m asking if you want to have a family with me, Yoongi.”

He meets your eyes and his are big and wet.

“I would very much like to have a family with you, Y/n.”

Then you’re crying and he’s crying and you end up having to go throw up because you have morning sickness and you’re very emotional but he just sits behind you and rubs your back and you think you’re glad if this happened it was with him.

He’s perfect, really, spends all his extra time with you, doesn’t stay too late at the studio, brings you the chocolates you’ve been craving home when he comes in so much that you tell him you’ll gain too much weight.

He makes the funniest face at you, like he’s offended and appalled that you’d ever suggest that as a possibility, and it makes you laugh so hard you almost pee on yourself because man you have to do that a lot now that you’re pregnant.

And the sex ramps up to an almost intimidating degree.

Yoongi can't get enough of how juicy your pussy is, how your taste changes just slightly and his face is buried between your thighs as often as you'll let him.

He loves how fast he can make you cum now, how you’re so sensitive and he’s always trying to coax one more orgasm out of you.

“You can, I know it, you’re so good, baby, just one more,” with his fingers buried inside you, crooking up just like you like until you’re muffling your shouts with the pillow until your face turns red.

Once you have the ultrasound, the records the heartbeat with his phone, uses it in tracks as a backbeat, he’s so proud even if he can’t tell his fans he wants it in here somewhere.

Hoseok

You show him the pregnancy test and his mouth drops open slightly.

“Are you sure?”

You wave the stick at him. “Hoseok, I just showed you the thing, this is the third test.”

“No, I mean-” he stops, takes a long breath, starts again. “I mean, are you sure you want this? Like, with me?”

“What do you mean, with you?”

“I mean, I’m not-” he mumbles, and you stop him with a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do this I’m not enough for you speech because you’re amazing and I love you so much. I want to have this baby. I want to have your baby.”

“Yeah?” His voice is shaky when you remove your hand, and you climb into his lap and everything seems so much easier than when you were anxiously waiting to see him, to tell him everything.

He proposes before the first ultrasound, and of course you say yes.

The first time the baby moves, he’s lying behind you with his arm wrapped around you and his hand on your belly and he yells so loud when the baby kicks at his palm that you almost fall off the bed.

You don’t stop laughing until he’s got his hand back on your belly, all misty eyed.

“Do it again, yeah?”

At the sound of his voice, you feel a tiny little bump again, and he just bursts into tears.

He’s fascinated by the way your body changes while you’re pregnant, loves how adorable you look in overalls with your baby bump.

Sex turns into this all night affair, hours and hours because he keeps going on and on about how much hotter your cunt is now, how your skin in general feels hotter and smoother and he just can’t shut up about it.

“You’re so hot, Y/n, fuck-like...you’ve always been hot, but now it’s like, literally-” He babbles, buried inside you.

“Hoseok, please, please move,” you plead, pushing back against him.

When you turn your head to look at him he’s smirking at you. “But I like it when you beg.”

At the 20 week ultrasound he can’t stop smiling and asking questions, you’re anxious because you want to make sure it’s okay.

“Of course they’re okay. They’re ours, right? They’ll be wonderful.”

Namjoon

He just stares at you for what seems like an inordinately long time.

“Joon?”

“Um, so, like, is this...a good thing? Are we happy?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m happy.”

He heaves a big relieved sigh and wraps you in his arms.

“Then it’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

You feel better instantly, less anxious with his arms around you.

He’s fascinated with everything about your pregnancy, keeps reading facts on the internet and asking you questions that are increasingly more gross.

“Is your discharge different because that can mean-”

“Kim Namjoon we are not talking about my discharge.”

“Yeah but what if-”

“No.”

“Also, I read that-”

“Joonie, I swear to God I’m gonna take away your phone and your computer if you don’t stop.”

He leans down to kiss your belly every time he comes in the door.

It becomes this ritual, to kiss your belly every time he sees you and you can’t help but smile.

You don’t ever have a second to feel insecure about your changing body because he worships you in bed, even more so than before.

He can't believe how much more responsive you are, how a single drag of his fingers up your side has your nipples peaked, your skin flushed.

“You look so pretty like this, baby, so easily worked up.”

Namjoon talks to the baby constantly, about everything and nothing, just like he does to you, in this low, calm voice, and sometimes you fall asleep and when you wake he’s still talking, telling the baby things, and it makes your heart swell with love.

Jimin

He covers his face with his hands immediately when you tell him, and you’re worried.

You worry your lip between your teeth. “Jimin?

After a long moment you take his hands from his face.

He’s crying, these big fat tears, and you don’t know what it means until he wraps his arms around you.

“Jagi, we made a baby?”

You melt, kissing all over his face.

“We did.”

He’s so happy, and you hadn’t expected that he would be, thought maybe he’d be anxious about it.

He loves your baby bump so much, all but squeals with happiness when it starts showing under your clothes, keeps a hand on your belly at all times, sitting on the couch, in bed, at a restaurant.

He doesn’t want to miss a single kick while he’s home with you.

Jimin's favorite thing about your pregnancy is how you want him all the time, constantly, pulling him into a passionate kiss the second he walks into the room, pulling him down on the bed as he laughs into your mouth. 

He wants you naked in bed at night so he can trail his hands along your skin.

He just keeps trailing his fingers along your skin, so light it’s maddening, and you’re getting wetter and wetter and pleading but he’s just talking softly, taking his time.

“You’re glowing, jagiya. You’re so bright all full with our baby. It makes you mine, you know? You’re both mine.”

Eventually, you lean up to drag him down for a kiss and usually that does it, makes him slide inside you and finally give you what you want.

When you have Braxton Hicks contractions and it’s way too early, he’s as stoic as he can be, holding your hand, but when it’s over and they tell you it’s not labor he’s so relieved there are tears streaming down his face.

He just loves you so much, and he’s glad there’s this product of your love, he’s so proud and wishes he could show it to the world.

Taehyung

It’s way more simple than you thought, telling Taehyung about the baby. 

You’re a bit worried, he can be a bit standoffish, especially when he’s stressed, and you feel vulnerable and hormonal

That boxy smile is there immediately, tears welling in his eyes.

“I”m so happy! Are you happy? You’re happy, yeah?”

Yeontan comes running up and he tells him he’s going to have a brother or sister, it’s so cute you want to yell.

“I should quit.” He says, suddenly.

“You should what?”

“I should quit! I can’t be away all the time when you’re pregnant, you need me here for all the doctor’s appointments and so I can see you grow-”

He’s already dialing his manager before you can stop him.

It’s rough, that fight, the argument about how he shouldn’t make a snap decision, especially before the baby is born, but in the end, he just wants to provide for you and make you happy, so he acquiesces. 

He’s just in the best mood after, even when you’re snappy because of the hormones he just tells you that you’re right even if you’re irrational.

Taehyung kisses the pregnancy line on your belly, runs his fingers over it. 

Thinks it's just so cute when your bellybutton pops.

When you complain about how your body is changing he doesn't know how to tell you that your growing belly makes him want you so much, how sexy he finds you glowing with his baby.

It ends up coming out in dirty talk, and his low voice in your ear sends you over the edge.

You’re too pregnant for most all positions so he’s fucking you while you’re lying down, spooned behind you.

“You’re so fucking sexy this way, all full of my baby, wish you could always look like this. You’re already pregnant but I want to fill you with  my cum anyway, keep you dripping with me, yeah?”

The first ultrasound he gets so many pictures you feel like the doctor’s office is probably going to charge extra for printer ink, hands them out to all the other boys, pastes them on the refrigerator like the baby is anything more than a peanut.

Jungkook

He doesn’t react the way you think he will. 

His eyes widen just a bit.

“Ah, we’re happy, yeah?” He says finally, and you laugh a little.

“Yeah, we’re happy.”

He nods vigorously. “Good. Good, we’re happy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you not happy?”

He takes your hands in his. 

“I’m happy.”

He’s freaking out. 

You know it but he won’t say it, he’s way too quiet and he keeps doing the most extra things.

When you say you want to take a bath, offhand, he goes to run it for you and then picks you up to carry you to it.

He’s extra protective in public, one hand on your lower back everywhere you go, shielding you with his body from anyone on the street.

“Are you okay with all of this?” You ask, finally.

“What? Of course I am.”

He’s asking Namjoon for advice, texting him all hours of the night.

One night when you look over, you see what if I’m a bad father?

Your heart cracks and you tug at his arm.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you tell him.

He kisses you so softly. “I love you so much.”

It isn’t as if you’ve ever had trouble in bed, but there’s something about pregnancy sex that really gets you.

Jungkook loves how your hips get wider, how your ass fills out, and as much as he loves to see your face he's delighted that when your belly is too big for missionary he gets to fuck you from behind, grab your hips with his hands and watch your ass jiggle with every thrust.

He tries not to show it, but you know he’s nervous at the ultrasound, he’s bouncing his knee and there’s worry around his eyes.

When everything’s okay with the baby, he relaxes, stops squeezing your hand so tightly.

Meanwhile, Lily Evans was scolding her husband - “I can’t believe you kept this stupid Santa suit from 7th year.”

“I did make a vow at our wedding to always keep you on your toes- besides, I figured Harry’s presents should be delivered properly,” James was laughing.

“Take that stupid beard off so I can kiss you properly, Potter,” Lily smirked

“As you wish, Potter,” and James removed the beard. Lily didn’t complain when he took off the Santa suit shortly thereafter.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter didn’t sleep a wink on Christmas Eve either.

Which is why no member of the Potter family complained about starting the Christmas Day festivities at 6am when Remus and Sirius Lupin pounded on their front door.

Harry was quick to answer the door and hugged both of his uncles with a “Happy Christmas”

Lily quickly prepared the coffee, tea, cinnamon rolls and (most important of all) bacon for all as Remus and Sirius helped Harry organize the presents. As their breakfast baked, the family happily opened the presents underneath the tree. Harry was excited to receive a new broomstick and a set of quidditch balls. He was busy polishing his new broom with Uncle Sirius while his mummy, daddy and Uncle Remus went to make something called “Bloody Mary’s.”.

Sirius was halfway through telling Harry about a post quidditch party when his mummy first kissed his daddy when he stopped talking and asked Harry, “You aAlright there, little Prongs? You’ve been awfully quiet for Christmas.”

Harry flushed red and responded, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course mate, that’s what Uncle/Godfathers are for,” Sirius told him as he ruffled his hair.

“Alright,” Harry started, “I got really thirsty last night and went to the kitchen for some water. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I needed some water.”

Uncle Sirius simply nodded, as if this was natural (and as if he was a little proud that Harry had broken a rule).

“But when I looked into the lounge,” Harry continued solemnly, “I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus. And she wasn’t even under the mistletoe!”

Uncle Sirius first made a sound that sounded almost like his laugh, then he started coughing, then he looked a little sick and finally finally spoke in his serious (as his mummy called it) lawyer voice and said, “Yeah mate. Well obviously we have to tell your dad.”

Naturally, this was when the rest of the adults returned and handed Sirius the nasty looking red drink. Sirius thanked his daddy and said, “Oi, Evans- be a dear and bring in the extra bacon.”

Harry watched his mummy roll her eyes and exit to the kitchen.

His daddy started “Sirius- what the f…”

“Listen Prongs- little Prongs has something to tell you-“ Sirius nodded to his godson and Harry spilled it all or again- “I got really thirsty last night and went to the kitchen for some water. I knew I wasn’t supposed to but I needed some water. when I looked into the lounge, I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus. And she wasn’t even under the mistletoe.”

There was a moment of silence. And then his daddy starting coughing and stated, “Right well, guess I better go talk with your mum.”

Harry watched his daddy leave, and started to play exploding snap with his uncles. When he asked “Why?” Uncle Sirius told him, “This’ll probably take a while, mate.”

James Potter entered the kitchen where his wife was plating more bacon and mixing another Bloody Mary with a stern expression on his face. “Lil, we need to talk,” he started.

Lily sighed, “Look, I know you only wanted to give Harry 6 presents but I really really thought he would love the Puddlemere jersey and would want to wear it to the next match and we’ve done all sorts of projects to help others so I know he’ll know the meaning of-“

James stopped Lily’s tirade the only way he knew how- by pressing his lips against hers.

“That isn’t the problem, love,” James started again, “Our problem is that our son saw you kissing Santa Claus last night and you weren’t event under the mistletoe”

All of the blood drained from Lily’s face.

“What the fuck was he doing out of bed?!?” she groaned

“Poor lad was thirsty- seems his mum forgot his water,” James chastised her.

“FUCK. fuck. What are we going to do?” she whispered

“I suppose with just have to tell him the truth,” James started.

“NO! No! Petunia ruined Santa for me when I was eight. And I won’t let it happen to Harry.” And Lily began pacing.

James knew the best thing to do was allow her to pace and work out the problem. After about three minutes she slowed to a stop.

“Alright. I’ve got it.” Lily grimaced, “We have to get divorced. My law firm can do it in a day. Old lady Levins is very quick with divorces and then Harry will have two Christmases and you won’t have to be married to a harlot. Then in 5 years we can reconcile and get married again.”

James blinked at Lily, “Lil- that’s-“

“Brilliant I know! Obviously we can just apparate back and forth to still stay the night with each other but only when Harry is asleep. He will never know and Santa will still be sacred,” Lily stopped pacing and actually fucking grinned at him.

“Lily. No. We’re not staging some Sirius Black level subterfuge to just convince our son that Santa is real,” James stated, totally exasperated

“Keep your voice down!” Lily whisper yelled at him, “Santa is real! He lives in all of us!”

At this moment, Remus came into the kitchen and asked “Everything ok in here?”

“Thank God it’s you Remus and not your daft husband,” James exclaimed- relief evident in his posture. “Please tell Lily staging a fake divorce is the worst way to handle this situation!!”

“How about the truth?” Remus asked in his teacher voice

“NO!” Lily exclaimed

“Lily, Harry is plenty old enough. You’re going to continue to make Christmas magical with or without Santa,” Remus encouraged her.

Lily, tears in her eyes, exhaled, “I just thought we’d have more time.”

With this, Remus and James pulled her into a group hug. After a few tears and bemoaning “where does time go?” Lily finally gave in and said, “the truth. Right, let’s go”

The trio entered into the lounge. As they entered, Sirius and Harry quit their game of Exploding Snap. Lily walked over to Harry and grabbed his hands and started, “Harry, I know you saw me kissing Santa Claus last night. And I just wanted to tell you the truth,” here she took a shaky breath and continued, “the truth is that Santa-“

Suddenly James’ voice broke through, “The truth is Santa is an old friend!!! He forgot the best time to deliver the present to the great squid at Hogwarts was at dawn. And Godric’s Hollow was his last stop so he flooed me and asked me to fill in! Mummy was so happy I helped him she gave me a kiss” he finished lamely.

Four pairs of eyes looked to him disbelievingly.

“Yes, Harry,” Lily said with a little too much amusement in her voice, “We didn’t want you to be upset that Santa had to call in reinforcements.”

Harry was quiet for several moments, “I guess that makes sense”

All the adults present let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding and then- Harry started again, “But why would Santa choose you daddy? Uncle Sirius’ hair is more like Santa’s- ad he already has a beard”

Silence fell again.

Then laugher.

Then for a week you’d look down at your phone, heart dropping every time you got a notification that wasn’t from him.

Then finally, he would text you, over and over, late at night, and for a few moments you’d just watch him typing, your heart racing and heat pooling in your lower belly.

Come and see me, pretty girl.

I dream about you under me.

You don't text back, at least not always, but somehow, he always gets you, one way or another.

It'd been a record two weeks since you'd seen him or responded to any of his texts, even though the last few started to get to you.

Don't you miss me? I miss you.

It's hot in the club your friends had dragged you too and you're sweaty and dizzy when you step outside, leaning against the brick to catch your breath.

"Long time no see," you hear, and squeeze your eyes shut. You'd know that voice anywhere.

"Been busy," you say shortly, and when you open your eyes he's standing in front of you with that slow smirk of his.

"Did you miss me?" His voice is a low murmur, raspy with the late hour and alcohol, and it makes something inside you tighten like a spring ready to pop.

You look up at him and he doesn't blink, resting a hand on the brick above your head to lean in. 

"Did you miss me?" You shoot his words back at him, wanting to seem sassy and disinterested but it comes out weak, soft.

"Course I did," he murmurs, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and rubs a thumb across your cheekbone.

You feel yourself weakening, know it's only a matter of a few more words before you give in.

"Thought maybe you forgot about me," Johnny continues, still stroking your cheekbone and it makes you laugh even though part of you wants to cry.

He tilts his head, giving you a puzzled smile. "What's so funny, dollface?"

You look at him for another moment, almost in awe of how he manages to turn this around, every time you swear you're done.

"You're not really the type you forget."

His face breaks into a real smile, big and open, and it makes your heart flip in your chest.

"You're coming home with me, yeah?"

It's not a question, he's already tugging at your hand and your feet follow before your brain can stop them.

Johnny pauses at the passenger side of his car, looks at you, eyes hungry for a long moment.

You open your mouth to ask him what's wrong and then he lifts you by your hips against the car, holding you there with his body, and you squeak just as he kisses you, feel him chuckle against your mouth.

His tongue against yours makes your head spin more than the mixed drinks you'd been sipping all night.

The alarm bells in your head that ring when you feel too much are as always, faint, overtaken by the way his hands grip your hips, his breath hot against your throat.

Your legs tighten around his waist when he grinds into you, and when he slides a hand up your inner thigh, pulls your panties to the side to hook his fingers into you, you make this choked moan in the back of your throat.

"Fuck," he curses, and it makes goosebumps break out on your flesh, his mouth pressed against your pulse point. "You're so wet, baby. Want me to take you right here, don't you? Want me to fuck you in this parking garage where anyone could see you."

"Yes," you gasp out. "I'd let you fuck me anywhere." You're past the point of caring about how desperate you sound, you just want him, want him so bad it's this steady ache inside you, making you clench around his fingers.

"Fuck," Johnny curses again before nipping along your neck and lowering you to the ground, shifting you so that you're bent over the hood of his car, tottering in your heels 

He pulls your panties off as you lift up one foot and then the other, a blush flooding your face with heat.

You should be ashamed, but instead you spread your thighs as he crouches and presses his face into your pussy from behind.

You bite your hand to keep from yelling out, and later you'll have a row of teeth marks there as a reminder that this wasn't some fever dream.

He grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreading you wide and licking in steady strokes until your legs are trembling and you're chanting out his name in a steady whine.

"So loud," he murmurs against your thigh, biting at the curve of your ass before standing.

You almost sob in relief when you hear his zipper. "Please," you whimper.

"Eager baby," Johnny croons, running his hands up from your hips to cup your breasts, pulling you against him as he pushes into you.

"Johnny," you breathe out in a long moan, no longer worried about making noise.

He plants sloppy kisses on your shoulder, your neck, unhurried as he thrusts up into you, slow strokes that have you writhing against him.

"Harder," you plead, twisting your head to look at him.

He's giving you that slow smirk that makes you hot but also makes your heart race, and you push back against him, rolling your hips.

He groans low in your ear and it makes heat spear through you, closer and closer to your orgasm.

One hand still cupping your breast, he slides the other down your body,pulling up your skirt impatiently to catch your clit between his middle and index finger, and it's just enough to have you crying out and cumming hard, black spots blooming in front of your vision.

He groans into your ear, thrusts speeding up just slightly until you're nearly lifted off the ground. 

"Always grip me so tight, baby, like you're sucking me in," he almost growls against your ear, and you moan weakly.

When he pulls out of you, you whine in protest, but he pivots you around, kisses you hard, over and over until you feel like your lips are swollen.

"Get in the backseat with me. Love the way you look bouncing on my dick," he whispers in your ear, and your legs night have given out if he weren't still pinning you against the car.

He slides to the middle of the seat, watches you with half lidded, dark eyes, cock standing up against his t-shirt. He removes the condom he'd put on at some point while you were bent over the car and rips open a new package with his teeth, watching you when he applies it, mouth parted.

He's fucking shameless, how he crooks his fingers at you, that damned half smirk.

You scramble in, knowing you'll hate yourself later but your body sings under his hands and when you straddle him he grabs your waist roughly, biting at your neck.

"You did miss me," you mumble, surprised at how eager he seems, and he nods against your throat. 

Johnny tugs down your top to expose your breasts, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Missed your tits bouncing in my face, missed your tight, wet cunt." His words are mumbled, almost slurred together with lust.

You wrap your hand around his cock to guide him inside you and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, throwing his head back to hit the seat.

"Shit, shit," he curses, hands moving to tighten on your hips as he bucks beneath you. "Baby. Y/n. You feel so fucking good."

The way he keeps moaning your name makes your skin feel hot and sensitive.

You find the right rhythm and keep rolling your hips, watching how his mouth parts, how his eyes focus on your breasts bouncing. You thread your fingers in his hair, dip your head to kiss him, loving how he moans into your mouth.

He cries out and bucks beneath you when he cums, nearly hitting your head on the roof of the car.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he pants against your ear, and you giggle, feeling lightheaded.

He strokes your hair, kissing along your collarbone. "Still coming home with me, yeah?"

When you don't answer, thinking you shouldn't, he takes your face in his hands, makes you look at him. 

"C'mon, baby," he pleads, and you're through.

Of course, you go home with him, curl up in bed with him, wake up with a headache and his arm thrown over your waist.

He does that thing again when you leave, brushes his nose against yours at the door, promises to text you.

This time, you don't wait for him to text you, text him later that night.

What happened to my panties?

He doesn't text back, and you sigh, wondering if it'll be another week before he does.

An hour later, you make a choking sound down at your phone. He's sent you a picture of your lacy panties fisted around his cock.

Took them as a souvenir.

You love your boyfriend, Jimin, but sometimes you feel a bit... inadequate. 

You're an office worker, and not terribly athletic, and your boyfriend is a lithe, professional dancer. He loves you, you know that, and he never makes a secret about how much he wants you, but you want to wow him.

So you start taking pole dancing classes on the sly, sneaking out late at night since he works late and sleeps in, sneaking back into bed before he wakes up.

You're planning a surprise, a big one, for his birthday in October...but things blow up in September, when you come back in just after daylight, sweaty and breathless, leaving your gym bag in the car like always.

You're humming the last song you were swinging around a pole to until you see Jimin's silhouette sitting on the couch, shoulders slumped, his head in his hands.

Your breath catches in your throat. "Jiminie?" You call, wiping at the sweat on your brow.

"Where have you been?" His voice is low and tired.

"Just went out for a run, baby," you say easily, perching on the couch next to him.

He doesn't look up. "Oh yeah? Every night this week?"

You'd been preparing for your surprise and you want so badly to keep it a secret.

You hum in the back of your throat.

"Been having trouble sleeping."

Jimin takes in a shaky breath. "Yeah, me too."

He lifts his head to look at you and he looks so tired, almost stricken.

You cock your head. "What's wrong, baby?"

Instead of answering, he grabs the back of your head and kisses you hard, tongue sliding into your mouth to deepen it 

You make a surprise sound in the back of your throat, but melt against him.

He pulls away from you, eyes searching your face.

"You still love me, Jagi?"

"Jimin...of course I love you." You frown at the look on his face. "Baby, why would you ask that?"

"I just love you so much, Jagi. I just want you to be only mine, yeah?"

"Jimin, what-"

He kisses you again, cutting you off, hands tugging at your top, and you let him pull it off.

He runs his hands up and down your sides, kissing at your throat, your shoulders, the tops of your breasts, leaving a row of pinkish marks. You hiss when he catches your nipple between his teeth.

He flips you over on the couch, yanking off your pants and underwear as you gasp in surprise.

"Jiminie, what's gotten into you?"

He's already trailing a hand down between your breasts to your stomach.

"Just want you," he mumbles, dropping his head to kiss your stomach, dipping his tongue into your bellybutton. "Wanna show you how much I always want you."

Your words die in your throat when he settles between your legs, sucking gently on your clit, moaning against you.

Jimin is always good, always takes time with you, is always concerned with your pleasure, but tonight is something else. Tonight he's focused on making you cum hard and fast and your legs are shaking by the time he comes up for air, two fingers stroking against your gspot.

"Fuck, oh fuck, Jimin…"

"No one else can make you feel this way, yeah? No one else can make you cum this hard."

"No one ever has," you gasp as he bites down on your inner thigh, sucking a big mark there.

"That's right, Jagi. No one ever will. Just me. You're mine, yeah?"

You just whimper, unable to keep making words, head fuzzy with pleasure and Jimin grunts and slides up your body, he must have shoved down his sweats while he was eating you out because next thing you know he's sliding his cock into you.

You cry out when he starts fucking you hard, face buried in your neck, moaning and sucking and biting marks onto your throat.

"Tell me, Jagi. Tell me you love me. Tell me you're mine."

"Ah, Jimin...you know I love you."

He lifts his head, breathing hard, sweat beading at the hollow of his collarbone.

His eyes look almost black and you can't get a read on his face, too blissed out.

"Tell me you're mine," he says, pistoning into you, and you cry out when you come again, bucking your hips.

"I'm yours! I'm yours, Jimin, oh god-"

Jimin doesn't stop, keeps fucking you and biting a necklace of marks on the top of your breasts, and your eyes have rolled back in your head by the time he cries out your name and spills inside you.

"I don't want you to go," he mumbles, still inside you.

You stroke his hair, still breathing hard. "Baby," you breathe. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere."

Jimin whimpers and squeezes you tight.

You're confused. Jimin used to get this way, sometimes, get insecure about your male friends or how you were extra busy at work, but things had been so good. 

"You still love me, yeah? You won't leave me?"

You frown and take his face in your hands, and his eyes are wet, his full mouth in a pout.

"I love you so much. I'm never gonna leave you, baby."

His lip trembles a bit, and you kiss him. "Tell me what's going on in your head."

He shakes his head a bit. "It's a mess in there, Jagi. The first night I woke up and you were gone, I didn't think much of it, but then the third, and the fourth...you coming back all breathless and sweating…" his voice breaks and you kiss him again.

"I have been keeping a secret," you admit, and his lip trembles again and he hides his face in your neck.

"Oh, no, Jagi... don't tell me. Please don't-"

"Jimin. Jimin. Baby. Don't cry. I just wanted to tell you-" 

He's crying in earnest now, kissing you all over your face. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, yeah? You're still with me."

"But baby-" 

"You'll stop seeing him, right?" He's leaned up on one elbow, wiping at his face. "You have to stop seeing him; I don't even wanna know who he is. I'll lose it if I know-" he's babbling and sniffling and you can't stand the look on his face.

"Jimin, oh my God, there's no one else! You don't think I would actually cheat on you!" 

You're a little hurt that he would jump to that conclusion, but the hope on his face breaks your heart.

“Jimin, I’ve been working on a surprise for you. I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“But...you….you’re always in different clothes when you get home, and you sneak out in the middle of the night…”

“It’s a big surprise,” you say defiantly, and he frowns a bit.

“You gotta tell me what it is now,” he huffs.

“No. Absolutely not. I’ve been working hard!”

Jimin slips out of you, sitting up and adjusting his clothes, running his hands through his hair. “You swear to me you’re not seeing anyone else?”

You wiggle upright, feeling silly now that you’re naked from the waist down, but still a little miffed. “Yes! I swear, you’d be jealous of a lamppost if I looked at it too long!”

Jimin laughs a little at that, looking down at you glaring up at him.

“Aw, Jagi...don’t be upset. I’ve been so heartbroken all week. I really thought...I thought you were getting ready to leave me.”

“Jimin...I would never, never cheat on you. I would never leave you. You should know that by now.”

“I do. I do now. It’s just...look at you, Y/n. You’re so beautiful and sexy and...I dunno, I thought maybe you found someone better.”

You stand up and tug on your sweats and stalk to your closet.

Jimin follows you anxiously. “Hey, Jagi? Jagi, I’m sorry, what are you-”

You’re rummaging around in your closet.

“Jagi, please-” Jimin is hovering behind you.

You finally tug out what you were looking for, a plain cardboard box, and you open it and gesture for him to look inside.

Jimin frowns. “Is that-”

“It’s a stripper pole, Jimin! I’ve been practicing for weeks to give you a show. I was gonna have it all set up in the bedroom on Saturday.”

“Oh. Oh. Jagi--God, that’s so hot,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around you from behind, kissing at your neck and shoulder.

“You thought I was cheating on you,” you mutter. “You really thought I would do that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. I swear, I’ll trust you from now on. I can’t wait for your show.”

“I don’t even wanna do it now,” you pout.

“Aw, Jagi, please? I’ll show you how sorry I am,” he murmurs, slipping his hand under your waistband.

“You can’t solve everything with sex, Jimin,” you say, twisting your head around to look at him.

He gives you a slow smirk. “I can try.”

There's no article or experience giving him advice on what to do when the two of you start arguing every day, when you get further and further away from him on the bed, all stiff hard lines when he tries to hold you. No one tells him how to handle it when his soulmark is aching so much he can't focus, when he comes home after practice and you're gone, every trace of you, as if you were never there at all.

His mark starts to fade into that shapeless blob again, but the pain doesn't go away. There's no relief from it, the way it burns, stinging when the fabric of his shirt touches it but he doesn't really know the difference, everything hurts, everything seems wrong and you're not answering his calls.

Hoseok changes along with the mark, losing focus, losing ambition, just going through the motions.

Everyone notices. Everyone tries to talk to him about it but what would they know? They have their soulmates sitting pretty at home, don't have this endless ache that seems to vibrate in his bone marrow.

Jungkook and his bells, Namjoon's compass on his collarbone, always pointing to his soulmate, Yoongi's song he can only see on his lover's skin. It's easy, for them, and it should have been easy for him too but instead he's left with the memory of you and that ache in the middle of his chest, like pain from a phantom limb.

Hoseok gives up trying to contact you after awhile, it only makes the ache in his chest worse when you don't respond, and it's weeks before he sees you again.

He doesn't see you right away but the burn in his soulmark starts to get worse, so bad that he pulls his shirt away from his skin. Then he sees you, turned away from him, swaying on the dance floor.

He can't see your face but he'd know the lines of your body anywhere, had traced them with his fingers, his mouth. Someone else's fingers are lighting on your hips and he feels like he can't breathe around the pain in his chest.

He sits there for the longest time, watching the way you move, every time your dance partner shifts his hands on your body making the soju he's been drinking roll in his stomach.

When you turn, you're laughing and you're so beautiful it makes his heart seize in his chest. When you meet his eyes your face changes, goes blank and he feels frozen in place, watching as you walk toward him.

He doesn't speak when you sit next to him at the bar, doesn't know what he'll say that he hasn't said on voicemails and late night texts.

"You look good," you say softly, and he's been looking at the sheen of sweat on your skin, trying to remember how you tasted under his tongue.

"So do you," he manages, and his voice is strained but doesn't break and that's something. He can't leave it at that, though, can't bear the thought of you heading back out to the dance floor like you never meant anything to each other, so he wraps his fingers around your wrist.

He turns your arm, sees your soulmark glowing red.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, and when you nod, wide eyed, he brings your forearm to his wrist, presses his lips to it, and you hitch in a breath.

Everything suddenly seems easy again and it's like second nature, pinning you against the wall with his body when you head towards the bathroom.

It's like muscle memory, how his hands know just where to touch you to make you gasp out his name, it's all the same but it's all so different because that mark on his chest keeps throbbing against his shirt.

He's barely spoken to you all this time, just follows you, follows that pull he's always had to you, like a moth to a flame from the first moment he saw you.

You're laughing into his mouth when he drops his keys trying to get you inside and he thinks it might kill him, this hope fluttering inside him.

When you tug off his shirt and press your lips to the mark it shoots something like electricity down his spine, makes him stiffen and this sound almost like a growl comes from his throat.

Hoseok can't wait, can't make it to the bedroom, he bends you over the kitchen counter and you totter a bit on your heels when he shoves up your skirt, kneels to press his tongue into your cunt and you taste just like he's remembered.

"Sometimes I dream of you," he murmurs, biting marks just under your ass, can't get enough of the way your flesh gives between his teeth.

You don't answer other than a mewling moan and a push back against his fingers when he teases at your entrance.

"Used to wake up with the taste of your cunt in my mouth and my soulmark burning," he goes on, moves to kiss a line up your spine.

He couldn't speak to you at first and now he can't stop speaking, can't stop spilling out everything he's wanted to say to you for weeks.

"It was worse when I stopped dreaming," he continues and his voice is shaking now even as he pumps his fingers into you. "Worse when I forgot how you tasted."

"Hoseok…" you whimper, and God, he's missed the way his name sounds on your lips and his cock is pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. 

He keeps finger fucking you instead of pushing into you like he wants, slips his thumb over your clit over and over until your thighs tremble and his name comes out of your mouth again as you pulse around his fingers.

He kisses along your shoulders as you come down, waiting for your breathing to even.

"Has there been anyone else?" He asks, and the second he asks it he's sorry because he doesn't want to know, doesn't want to dream about someone else's face between your thighs.

You don't answer right away and the air seems thin, his breath short. He presses his fingers deeper into you, keeps them there as you pulse with aftershocks and when you whisper, "No," he finally takes in a gasping breath.

"I'll do better," he promises, nuzzling against your neck. "I'll do better, and then you'll come back, yeah? You'll love me again?"

"I'll always love you, Hoseok," you whisper, and he doesn't like the defeated tone of your voice so he finally frees himself from his jeans and pushes into you slow, biting into your shoulder to keep from fucking you hard and fast like he wants.

"Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok," you chant and it sends an ache through his soulmark that lessens when he presses against your back and thrusts up into you.

He wants it to last, wants to let out all the emotions he's had bottled up since you'd left but you're so hot and wet and pressing back against him that it's not long before he's spilling inside you with his hand cupping your pussy, thumb pressing on your clit so that you come with him.

"Stay with me," he pleads into your ear and he means tonight and forever.

When you nod he leads you to bed, doesn't want to stop touching you even for an instant.

He thought it'd be impossible to sleep with everything racing through his mind but it hurts so much less, his soulmark and his heart, that the next thing he knows daylight is streaming through the window on your bare back as you sit up in bed.

There it is, again, the burning in the middle of his chest and he rubs at it absently. 

"Don't leave me again," he blurts out, half asleep, no dignity left if he'd ever had any at all.

You stiffen and he scrambles up, slots himself behind you with his arms around your waist, holding tight.

"Please," he whispers, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder. "Please, don't go."

You heave out a shaky sigh. "We already tried, Hoseok, we tried so hard-"

"I'll try harder," he insists, desperate, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I'll do anything, baby. Y/n…" He moves his hand to your left forearm, traces where your mark is. "You're supposed to be mine. I'm supposed to be yours."

You turn your head, eyes wide and wet and when you kiss him your tears taste like salt on his tongue.

You're looking in the full length mirror, frowning in your underwear, when Jimin comes into the room.

He smiles at you in the mirror, slides a hand around your waist, but you stop his hand.

"Don't," you whisper.

Jimin frowns at you. "What's wrong, jagi?"

"I just don't feel…" you stop, frustrated. "I don't feel like myself lately. I've gained so much weight."

Jimin presses his lips to your bare shoulder. "Oh, baby. You're so beautiful."

Tears are filling your eyes, so you look down at the floor. "I don't feel very beautiful."

Jimin slides his hand around your waist again and you don't stop him. "I wish you could see yourself the way I do."

You sniffle a bit and meet his eyes. "How do you see me?"

It's self-indulgent and you feel stupid, like you're fishing for compliments and maybe you are but you need this.

"You're so pretty sometimes that you make me wanna lock you inside so no one else can look at you."

You snort out a laugh. "Jimin, that's ridiculous."

He chuckles. "I know. I should want to share you with the world. Want to show you off. My pretty girl."

He puts one hand at your hip, the other cupping your chin to make you look at yourself.

"See? Look at those big brown eyes. That pretty mouth." He thumbs your bottom lip.

You pout a bit. "I know I have a cute face, Jimin, it's my body that's the problem?"

"The only problem with your body is the way it makes me want to bend you over the nearest available surface," he murmurs, rolling his hips against your ass.

You bite your lip. "Really?"

Jimin's hand slides down beneath your waistband, two fingers skimming over your clit, making you gasp.

"Jagi...you calling me a liar?" He teases, biting at your shoulder.

"If the shoe fits," you snap back, and you expect him to pout but he doesn't, instead spins you around, heaves you up over his shoulder.

"Jimin, stop! I'm heavy!"

He lands a smack on your ass. "Light as a feather."

He tosses you on the bed like you weigh nothing and you can't help giggling a little.

Jimin smiles at you, kisses your belly, and you put your hands in his hair to stop him, insecure.

"Don't," you say again, but Jimin doesn't listen, plants kiss after kiss along your waistline.

"I love every inch of you, baby. You're so sexy. You make me so hot, yeah?" 

Your skin heats at his words. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He's moved down to suck marks onto your inner thighs, sliding his hands under your ass to line his face up with your pussy.

Instead of taking off your panties, he licks you through the cloth, teasing you, and you whine.

"Jimin…"

"Can't believe you don't know how fucking sexy you are," he mumbles, and when you roll your hips a bit he flexes his forearms to stop you, burying his face in your clothes pussy.

He laps at your clit but it's not quite enough, you're soaking through your panties and whimpering.

"I love it when you're filled out like this." He grabs onto your hips, tugs your panties off and sucks your clit between his lips. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You cry out, bucking your hips. "Shit, Jimin, I'm gonna-"

Jimin lifts his head and dips two fingers inside you instead, smirking up at you when you whine. "That's it, baby. I wanna watch you come for me."

"Fuck me," you breathe. "Fuck me right now, Jimin."

"Don't know if I'll last long," he groans. "You always feel so fucking good." He leans down to kiss you, his fingers kneading your inner thigh and you'll probably have fingerprint bruises there tomorrow.

Instead of sliding inside you like you expect, he lies down beside you.

"Ride me, baby? Want to see all of you." It's not really a request, his voice deepening to that Busan satoori rasp, and you're helpless.

You straddle him, guiding him inside you, and he unhooks your bra and throws it on the floor, leaving you bare.

"Look at you. My gorgeous girl," he murmurs, cupping your breasts in his hands. "Fuck, you feel so good, love the way you look when you're bouncing on my cock."

You moan, his praise making you wetter and wetter, rolling your hips and grinding your clit into his pelvic bone. "Jimin, Jimin, Jimin," you chant, and he smiles up at you.

“Love the way you look when you come on my cock, Jagi, you clench around me so tight,” he groans, dragging his thumbs across your nipples.

You curse as you come again, rocking against him, and he flips you over, groaning and fucking you hard, kissing your throat, your jawline, your mouth.

“Been thinking about fucking you all day, Jagi.”

“Oh yeah?” You breathe, loving the praise, loving that he thinks about you when he’s away.

“I always think about fucking you. Can’t wait to get home to you,” he says, and it’s so sweet you can’t help but smile.

But then he pulls out of you and you pout.

Jimin laughs a little. “All fours, baby. I want to see your ass jiggle when I fuck you.”

You’re up on your hands and knees in an instant, wiggling your ass invitingly, and he slaps one cheek, making you cry out.

“You have such a perfect ass, Jagi. Everything about you is perfect,” he says, voice still low, as he caresses the red mark he’d left.

“Jiminie, don’t tease,” you plead, your cunt still clenching around nothing.

He enters you slow, making you feel every inch, and then he takes hold of your hips and fucks you hard, moaning your name between praises.

“Fuck, ah, Y/n, you’re so tight, so fucking hot. I love your body so much. Love you so much, yeah?”

“Are you close, baby?” You murmur, turning your head to look at him, and you feel so much better, so much prettier, all because of him, and you want to reward him, roll your hips back against him, clench your muscles around his cock.

“Sh-shit,” he stutters, his hips bucking into you with abandon. “Jagi, you’re gonna make me come so hard, this body, the way you move, fuck-”

He groans out you name, nips at your shoulder, doubled over when he spills inside you.

Jimin takes a moment to catch his breath before gathering you up in his arms to take you to the shower.

“Jimin, you’re going to throw out your back!” You protest, and he bounces you in his arms.

“You’re like a baby, you’re so light,” he laughs, and deposits you on the floor while he runs the water.

His hands are roving all over your body in the shower, he’s kissing the back of your neck, rutting against you, half hard again already.

“You do think I’m sexy, huh, you eager boy,” you tease, looking back at him over your shoulder, and he kneels down to eat your pussy from behind, spreading your ass cheeks apart with his hands.

There’s so many other reasons too, like how you hop on the counter in the mornings, watch him cook breakfast with your feet swinging, so many reasons that if he tries to feel them all he might burst so instead he moves his hand to your core, doesn’t touch you there, just waits, watches your face.

He smirks when you huff out a breath, roll your eyes and press his hand against you and you’re so hot you should burn him.

And fuck, you do, you burn him so deep he should have scars like brands over his neck and throat where you kiss him. He can’t stop kissing you, deep and slow and you keep breaking apart from him to gasp and he catches your mouth again, drags his teeth across your bottom lip.

When he heaves you up onto the counter one of those bowls you’d been arguing about for an hour crashes to the floor.

“We’re making a mess,” you complain, but there’s this hint of a smirk on your lips and fuck, he hates how much it makes his heart swell.

“I’m about to make a mess,” he murmurs, and you’re still in just his t-shirt after dinner, it barely covers your ass anyway. “You brat,” Kihyun mutters, staring at your thighs with something like awe and then he’s crouching to leave marks all over your skin, like you’re some canvas to paint pink and bruised.

He loves your hands his in hair, how you’re never gentle like this, how you tug and pull him where you want him and yet he closes his mouth, won’t kiss you where you want.

Kihyun tugs your panties aside, his eyes on your cunt, how your clit glistens and pulses.

You tug at his hair so hard it lifts his head, and it pulls a gasp from his mouth.

“Kihyun,” is all you say, in that tone like it matters, like he matters and goddamnit, he loves you and he hates it, takes it out on your swollen clit, his mouth like a vacuum as you whine and clench your thighs around his head.

He loves your dirty mouth, how you’re cursing him and bucking your hips, not enough room on the counter and more bowls are crashing around him but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “baby,” when you cum and his heart aches and his cock is twitching in his sweats.

It’s awkward and there’s not enough room and he could fuck you deeper in the bedroom but he can’t wait, tugging down his sweats and kissing up your throat.

“You make me fucking crazy,” he breathes into your ear, and when he pushes into you hard and fast you don’t even blink, keep looking right is his eyes.

“You love it,” you murmur, using your legs to pull him deeper, sliding your ass further up the counter. “You love me.” 

His breath catches in his throat, because he does, he does and it feels like something is clawing up his throat when he says it but he makes himself do it anyway, pushes past that ache in his chest.

“I do.”

He kisses you so hard he feels like his lips are bruised, you clenching around him because you can’t give up control, not even for a moment, and neither can he.

It’s this dance you two do, and he hates it and he loves it and he nearly rips his shirt tugging it down to reveal your breasts, leaning down to catch a nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, want you deeper,” you groan, arch your back and nearly bump your head on the cabinets and he laughs and brings you closer. 

You rock your hips forward as he pulls you to the end of the counter to fuck up into you hard and fast and your nails are digging furrows into his back and shoulders.

Later, they’ll sting so sweet in the shower.

He can only say it when it’s like this, when it’s rough and hard and he’s not looking in your eyes but watching your tits bounce.

“I love you, I love you,” comes out, and he can’t stop it and when you laugh into his mouth he just wants you more.

It’s not enough, he can’t get deep enough on this fucking counter so he grabs your hips and slides you off the edge, your ass up against the fridge and you might have bruises there that he’ll kiss later, soft a sweet while the sunlight streams in through the window.

You cry out his name, chanting, “Yes, yes, yes” into his mouth because he can’t get enough of how messy and sloppy your tongue works against his.

The refrigerator is rocking as he fucks you against it, hard and rough and he can feel it when you cum again, pulsing around him so tight that it makes him cry out and bite your shoulder.

He cums so hard it makes him dizzy, gasping against your throat, and that’s when your fingers go gentle in his hair, threading through the strands instead of tugging, how you plant little kisses on the side of his face.

“We destroyed the kitchen,” you say, voice soft and lilting.

“Not the first time,” he mumbles against your throat, and fuck, he hates the way his breath catches when he looks at you smiling and soft after he pulls out of you and you cling to him anyway, legs shaky.

When you catch your footing you pull away, back a few steps away like it’s this dance you do, push and pull, and he loves you so hard it might break him.

“Probably not the last,” you tease, and crook your finger at him in a come hither motion toward the bedroom.

Kihyun shakes his head as he follows, catching you just as you get to the door and you squeal and laugh.

“Yoongi?”

He looks at you, feels his face flushing. “I’m done,” he says, and it comes out more gruff than he means it to. He takes your arm gently.

Your amber eyes are wide, looking up at him, and it makes his heart clench.

“They’re just curious, Yoongi,” you try to comfort him, and he squeezes your arm a bit tighter, tugging you with him toward the dressing room.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say, it makes his heart clench, how you’re defending them. He can’t do anything but feel how strongly he loves you.

Once you’re in the dressing room he pushes you up against the door to close it, kissing you hard and hungry, one hand cupping your face, brushing a thumb across your cheek.

You return his passion, you always do, melting against him, arching your back so that your breasts press against his chest.

Yoongi nips at your bottom lip and you laugh a little, and the sound makes him feel lighter.

He's unbuttons your pants, tugs them down to your ankles impatiently. 

Yoongi takes in a sharp breath, kissing along your stomach, slipping his tongue under the waistband of your panties.

"Yoongi," you say breathlessly, "what's gotten into you?"

"Just want you," he mumbles. "Want to taste you." 

"Oh fuck," you mutter as he spreads your thighs, rough and impatient.

***

You expect him to bury his face in your pussy, latch on to your clit, but instead he kisses your inner thighs, soft, not leaving marks, making your skin tingle.

"Yoongi," you whimper, and he looks up at you, eyes dark and half lidded.

"Love your skin." His voice is muffled against your thigh. "So soft."

Your heart swells, thinking of all the comments, about how it wasn't just that you weren't Korean it's that you're Indian instead, how your skin contrasts with his, how different you are. 

You had tried not to think about it, the comments, but you'd found yourself reading them late at night in the hotel bed while Yoongi slept. You know that’s not how he feels, you know that he’s never thought of you as different or other, but other people’s words still hurt you, make you anxious.

You thread your fingers through his hair, humming softly in the back of your throat.

Encouraged, Yoongi sucks a gentle mark onto your thigh, sliding his long fingers through your slick, dipping two into you.

He pumps them into you slow and shallow, angling up just a bit and it sends the most delicious shock up your spine.

Your hips rock forward, his name slipping from your mouth over and over.

It's only when you're right at the edge that he presses his face in your cunt, moans against you before sucking your clit into his mouth, licking intermittently until you're biting down on your hand to keep from shouting.

"Yoongi, I'm gonna-" you gasp, and then it turns into a whine when he releases the suction.

He plants kisses along your thighs, dips his fingers deeper for a few strokes before removing them. 

When he slides into you a few moments later, lifting you up against the door by your hips, he kisses you slow and deep before pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you," he murmurs, and your breath catches in your throat.

It isn’t the first time you’ve heard it, him murmuring it into the skin of your throat or telling you on the phone when you can’t visit him on tour, but it seems more intense now, with him inside you, with him looking into your eyes.

"I love you, too,” you say softly, and it’s only when you respond that he starts to move inside you.

“It’s just you and me, yeah?” 

You nod, tears springing to your eyes. 

“Nobody else matters,” he mutters, fucking you slow and deep, his hands sliding down your waist and hips. 

You nod again, loving him so much in that moment that you feel like you might burst.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He moves a hand to cup your face, kissing you, sloppier and hungrier this time as he fucks you, your back sliding up the wall, and you can’t help crying out when pleasure jolts through you. 

You put a hand to your mouth to muffle it and he moves it away.

“Be as loud as you want, sweet girl. I want them all to hear you,” he says, voice low and fierce, and you let out a long moan.

“Yoongi,” you whine. “Yoongi, I want to cum.”

His hips move faster, and he kisses along your jawline. “Cum with me, sweet girl, I’m so close. You’re so tight and perfect.” 

You can’t stop moaning his name, the flurry of kisses he drops all over your face and mouth makes your heart clench, makes everything so intense because you love him love him love him and when you finally cum it’s so intense it makes you dizzy, him groaning against your neck and spilling into you.

He doesn’t pull out, keeps looking into your eyes, the ghost of a smile on his face. “It’s you and me,” he says again, as if it’s important, as if he can make you feel how much he loves you with just those words.