#bts fics

Is a glass of water half-full or half-empty?

You observe the glass, hoping for a revelation or answer — a good distraction from your miscalculations all evening; well, miscalculations in the duration of meeting Jeon Jungkook. Tucking yourself further into your small couch, the corners of your lips tug at the reminder of the boy. The icy glass cools your hot skin, which still remembers the flames he left you surrounded in on the dancefloor.

And those eyes — his always spoke to you without words. 

Eyes smitten and playful all evening, you can’t forget how they morphed into fear and panic when you finally moved on the pathway he laid out for you. Were you wrong to assume he wanted more with you?

“Ah, so stupid.” You slam your eyes shut at the memory, shame heats your cheeks at his rejection — at another loss you’ll need to process on your own. Loss, after loss, after loss. It wears on your bones, empties your soul just like how you empty the glass of water clutched in your hand.

Didn’t matter whether your glass was ‘half-full or half-empty,’ the water will eventually be consumed. Jungkook had a way of overfilling your glass with an abundance of hope; however, you later found out the glass you shared with Jungkook contained holes and eventually left you empty.

No one leaves you empty like Jungkook does. 

Sitting up higher on your couch, you dig your lower back into your armrest, wanting to feel some form of support.

Maybe you should’ve stayed and taken the water Jungkook offered. Wake you up from that drunken state and snap you out of your innermost desires for your friend. You’d probably go as far as blaming the alcohol and the night would’ve just ended from there.

Probably would’ve been a better alternative than pathetically running away. Then again, there was no way you were going to last another second in the venue — not after the way he pulled away.

You know it’s rude to leave in the middle of the party. Can’t even bear looking at your phone since ordering a cab outside the club, opting to place it on silent afterwards. Now, the phone rests heavily on your kitchen counter, begging to be checked on.

You should text him. Tell him you’re safe and use indigestion as an excuse for your abrupt departure — no one would ever find fault in that reason. Another pang of anxiety holds you back from touching your phone. What if he didn’t bother checking on you? Upset with your bad habit of leaving? 

He has all the rights to.

Setting your feet into your house slippers, you’re thankful for the flat cushion after a night of dancing in heels. Bathroom first, then you’ll text Jungkook. The order of events seemed the most logical and definitely not your way of avoiding the inevitable. It’s a solid plan—

You jolt at the series of knocks against your door. Although your building was relatively safe, living alone had its downsides, especially at this hour. The grip on your glass changes and you ready yourself for self-defense. 

Best case scenario? A ding-dong ditcher. Worst? Nope. You don’t want your mind wandering there. 

One eye closed, you peer through the peephole.

The fisheye effect warps your vision, but you could easily make out the person standing facing away from your doorway. The dangly, silver five-hooped earrings were a dead giveaway to your visitor. Felt them graze the top of your hand every time he tilted his head in your touch. Felt them when you wrapped your hands at the base of his nape. They glimmered prettily under the club lights, but they look nearly dull now under your complex’s standard lightbulbs. 

He’s a few steps away, pacing, looking anywhere but your door as if it was the most offensive piece of object … as if your home was the most deplorable place he could be at right now.

And it should be. He should be at his party celebrating his wins and accomplishments, surrounded by people who love and care for him — not on shame’s breeding grounds. Shame nearly has you running to hide underneath your covers, hoping he’d leave if you refused to answer. Rather than give into shame’s call for isolation, your fingers flick the locks and wrap around the doorknob.

“Jungkook?” 

He’s still turned away from you, pacing back and forth in your building’s hallway. No longer styled how it was in the beginning of the night, his hair looks to be run through … whether it be by him or a stranger. 

Couldn’t be you.

Your mouth parts, words lodged in your throat, but you manage to utter, “What are you doing here?”

He lets out a breath. So unstable, you could feel the restraint in his action but he stops in his tracks, head tilting up at the ceiling to will the words.

“Why do you keep doing that?” His voice raises, back still turned to you.

You frown, looking around to see if there was anyone in the vicinity. Definitely not at this hour. Your neighbors should be asleep, which is why you don’t want to make a scene outside your home.

“Jungkook—”

Suddenly, harshly, his back shifts and his body whips around, “Why do you keep leaving me? Is that all you know how to do?” 

You’re standing face to face with his wide eyes and desperate furrowed brows. The hand raking through his hair only showcasing more of the distress forming on his forehead.

Your mind flashes back to your meeting at the milestone party. There was nothing wrong with your departure at that time. A small, but selfish part of you, doesn’t think you were at total fault for tonight’s departure either. 

“Jungkook … please,” you stammer, eyes drifting down to your feet. 

“I-I don’t fucking get it, Pix. I just–”

“Can you come inside?” You ask, looking around once more. And although Jungkook hasn’t made far enough noises to warrant a complaint, you’d rather talk inside the privacy of your home. “We can talk in here. Please?” You plead in a small whisper.

Jaw clenched as he looks at you and over the threshold of your home, he nods.

Citrus, with no more lingering scent of cigarettes, wafts past you. Even if he was upset with you, he’s still respectful in your home as he toes off his shoes at the entryway. He exhales through his nose, finally turning to face you. His jaw ticks, eyes bloodshot for multiple reasons but he’ll blame the alcohol and not the exhaustion of looking for you. 

You can’t meet his eyes, can’t even bring yourself to speak in the comforts of your home.

“You keep doing this.” His voice cracks.

“I-I,” Your own voice wavers at his statement, you fight the lump in your throat as you lie, “wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the bullshit.” 

You frown, having never seen Jungkook speak nor act this way towards you. He extends patience and understanding towards you like an additional limb on his body; perhaps, you’ve tested them enough tonight. Still, your own emotions come out just as unsteady and unreasonable.

“You’re being unfair.” You croak.

“I’ve been anything but that, Pix.” He retracts his head, brows furrowed. “You’re the one that left. Like you always do when things don’t go your way.”

Your brows pull together, unable to mask the hurt at the accusation. “What did you expect me to do? You—” Your bottom lip trembles.

“What?” He takes a step forward and you’re once again engulfed in his overbearing scent. The action stunts your train of thoughts, and for a split second, you think he’s almost just as affected.

You’re tired of going in circles, chasing but also running away from what appears to be your own desires.

“You led me on all night.” Voice small, Jungkook nearly misses what you say. 

His frustration morphs into surprise, then guilt at the sudden forwardness of your words.

“I …” His eyes widen at the realization as he chews on the inside of his cheeks. He shakes his head, denying the allegations. “I didn’t.”

“But you did.” You walk past him, lower back leaning against the kitchen island. Arms crossed, you don’t miss how Jungkook’s eyes drop to your breasts pushed together. His throat bobs, hands twitching on his sides as he tries to rack up an appropriate response.

“We were dancing. Having fun.” He reasons. “That’s all.”

Friends don’t dance the way you both did tonight; their touches don’t burn. They don’t leave the party after being deserted from a dodged kiss on the dance floor. They sure as hell don’t stare at you like you’re made of stardust. 

“Okay.” As if whatever happened in the last couple of hours could be reduced to ‘just dancing.’

His throat emits a low growl, patience once again tested. “Why’d you leave?”

Truthfully? There was no alternate reality where you’d stay after his rejection.

Your crossed arms drop to your sides, throat tightening to keep the contents in your stomach from hurling out. You can’t bear the truth, which seems to point at the fact Jungkook has moved on and there’s no more room for you in his life and heart. 

He’s left you behind.

Jungkook fills in the silence with the same words circling in your head, slipping from his mouth now directed at you with an ache you’ve done your best to forget. “You’ve moved on.”

Your face falls, having spent months trying to forget him through hobbies, friends, and even another person, only to find out … nothing’s worked.

Unable to meet his eyes, you mutter, “I had to.” 

“I know.” He says, “I know that.”

The filter on your fish tank acts as a buffer for the silence stretched in the small distance.

“You’ve moved on, too.” You don’t mention the woman you saw in his apartment lobby, too afraid of the confirmation that he has indeed moved on.

He lets out a shuddering breath, head hung low. “I tried, okay? I really did.”

Something within you shatters at his revelation. It hurts to be right, and it hurts more knowing no one was at fault in the aftermath of a heartbreak. 

He drags his hand down his face, fighting the drunken exhaustion and confusion. “Things got better, I swear. But then I see you and I’m just reminded …”

“Of what?” You ask.

He stays quiet. So different than the man who was just outside your door ready to scorn the world. You wonder how he has kept his composure during the times of your silence when all you want to do right now is shout for an answer, resolution … or ending. What was left after this? Was there another title after being demoted to friends?

… Strangers?

You don’t wait for his answer, choosing to fill the gaps of the conversation with your reality. “You don’t tell me about your life anymore. Like … like, I’m some sort of afterthought learning all these things about you after the fact.” Tears falling freely, you sniff and palm away the moisture on your cheeks.

“Pix–”

“Why did you push me away?” From his life, from the kiss … no clarification needed — it all bleeds together anyway. “Did I misunderstand?”

“Pix.” He repeats, eyes crestfallen and exhausted. “You’re with someone, there’s no way I would do that to you–”

“I’m not with him anymore.”

He pauses, drawing in a sharp breath. “Still doesn’t make it right.” Despite his words, you recognize a faint glint in his eyes.

Of course he becomes the voice of reason when this conversation shouldn’t exist among supposed friends. Now it’s your turn to stay quiet, too ashamed for further humiliation and rejection.

“All I do is remember you, Pix. All I find myself doing is thinking of you. Could never stop even if I wanted to.” He shakes his head. Your stomach sinks, an uncomfortable mass lodged in your throat as you process his words. “And I’m so tired of having to remember you.” He looks at you with so much anguish, wishing and begging for you to end this turmoil. 

“Jungkook …”

“I still think about the night at the hotel.” He continues, jaw clenched to stop the trembles. “And I feel so guilty.”

You shake your head vehemently. “You never once did anything I didn’t want to do.”

“I knew you couldn’t be with me, but I still pushed for more. It was selfish of me and I—”

“I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook,” you sob. “You never gave me the chance to make things work.”

Your hands cover your face as you heave into your palms, moist from your tears and breath. Jungkook tilts his head up at the ceiling, furiously blinking away the stray tears he thought he had swore away on the cab ride over to your place.

The buzzing travels up from your fingers to the back of your head. Your body convulses from your silent sobs, mind numbing from all the fog and confusion. Like a bee, refusing to leave you alone, you want to cower away from the source of noise. The buzzing continues for another fifteen seconds, too loud even when neither of you utter a word. It’s impossible to avoid when the buzzing happens from within. How do you remedy this? How do you run away? How, how, how—

The buzzing stops.

Zapped away by a strong pair of arms, the bees stop swarming in your mind, all honeyed scent — all citrus consuming your senses.

Jungkook holds you and it’s the closest thing to the security of your home. Possibly better. Home shelters you from the brewing storm, and as you cry into the expanse of Jungkook’s chest, he holds you tighter, chin resting on the top of your head.

“What are we even doing?” Jungkook mumbles against your hair, voice hoarse and tired.

You inhale into your hands and answer honestly, “I don’t know.” 

He swallows, breathing you in, “I hate this.”

Your heart crumbles again. Was this it? Has to be. He’s finally done and wants nothing to do with you anymore.

Instead of his warmth departing from your body like you’ve grown used to, he holds you tighter.

“I fucked everything up.” He says. “I messed you up, and I’m trying to do right by you, I swear, but I–”

His words are cut off with your arms around his waist. Face pressed into his chest, your tears became another source of darkness on his grey shirt, but neither of you cared. 

“You didn’t mess anything up.” You heave. Months passed, things changed. Time was a marker for healing and forgetting old wounds; though, there were just some things — some people — you can’t and don’t want to forget. 

“I missed you so much, Pix.”

You pull back a little to look at his face. Hurt and longing never needed a competition and there’s no winner when both of you were wounded in the process. The frame had always been a little unfocused and hard to decipher, but you’re both in view now.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” You confess.

He blinks twice, hand now coming to cup your wet cheek. Ache and remorse stretches over his face at the time lost in the absence of one another. He needs to be honest, barring out the truth if there was even a possibility to start anew. 

“I can’t promise perfection, P.” He admits, scared and worried for this potential dealbreaker. 

“I never asked for perfection.” You shake your head, breath finally coming out even. Pausing, you let the reality of your recent failures sink in, “I just got out of something and I don’t know if I’m any good, but I wanna figure things out with you — do things properly. Please give me time.” Please give us time.

You both loosen your hold on one another, but maintain your gazes as your hands finally intertwine. The hold is weak, full of uncertainty of the future, but you push forward, “Please?” You ask again, heart in your hands — no, heart in his hands. You pray and hope he handles it with care. He has all the power to do the opposite, turning your heart to cold steel for the next poor soul.

He doesn’t, though — can’t imagine anyone but him holding your heart with delicate hands if you allow him to. 

Jungkook’s always wondered when the world would bend for him; yet, he’s got the world in his arms right now willing to bend for his sake. 

He nods and the night bleeds into the morning as you and Jungkook sit on your small couch to catch up, mending lost time with one another. The hours of bitterness leading up to this moment was well worth it after you finally taste the hint of sweetness lodged behind his growing smiles. The catch up bounces back between idle chatters to late night secrets until you both settle into the mundane and content.

“Group work is the worst, P. Avoid it at all costs.” He recounts the number of times his classmates let him down on a project this past semester.

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Why’d you think I run this business alone?”

“Smart girl.” He grins, and your body warms from the small compliment. 

A natural silence fills you both at this time, between the chuckles and stares. You think you could get used to this. A new norm knowing you both want to start over with an agreed upon future. The two glasses of water on your coffee table gets refilled throughout the night, but sits empty now. 

Yet, you’re both so full. 

And you realize no one’s replenishing the glass the way Jungkook does. Around your imaginary glass filled with holes, Jungkook always does his best to cover and mend them.

“I’m sorry for not keeping you posted on my life.” Jungkook says, knees brushing against yours. “I was trying to figure things out on my own.” He leaves out the part where he wanted to reach out for your opinion, opting to struggle by himself.

“Could’ve reached out to me. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He nods, lips pursed debating his next words.

“What?” You ask, eyes heavy from exhaustion, but you don’t want to miss a single second with your special boy.

“Mm, nothing.” His trademark dimples make an appearance when he hides away a playful smile.

“Come on,” you push, “Tell me.”

He laughs softly, lips pulling to an embarrassed smile, “Wanted you to notice me, so I …”

Your eyes narrow, doing your best to piece together the meaning of his words. Something finally clicks as you lean back against your couch. You’d never peg someone like Jeon Jungkook to do things out of spite or attention, but you suppose love has a way of making people do stupid things.

This was love, right?

“I know. Stupid and immature.” He shakes his head.

“It worked.” You shrug, returning his sheepish smile. He interlaces his fingers with you, relaxed knowing you had been trying to keep up with his life in secret. 

He smiles, but shortly after dips a little at his next musing, “Classes have really taken up a lot of my time. I haven’t been able to work as much, but I still take on projects every month or so.”

Your expression falters a little, guilt filling your system as he relays this information. You nod, head leaning to rest on his shoulder.

“Does it bother you?” He asks another forward question. He doesn’t sound as uncertain as he did months ago in the hotel, courage coming as he knows your inevitable answer. 

“A little.” You admit.

You’ll get used to this just as Jungkook needs to get used to this too — that sometimes he will disappoint and hurt. Your acceptance isn’t a form of a bandaid over a reopened wound; instead, allowing the healing process to take on whatever form is needed. Eventually a scar tissue will rise over the persistent lesion, granting you the chance to perform better this time around.

Around 5 a.m. your sleepy eyes fight to stay open as you watch Jungkook put on his shoes. He stands up, eyes heavy but with so much anticipation. Realizes the moment the door shuts behind him, he’ll be left anticipating the next time he’ll be graced with your company again.

He comes close, and with a soft exhale through his nose, he presses his lips to your forehead. Breath fanning over, his voice is low and gravelly on your skin, “See ya, Pix.”

Life with Jungkook, again, is ever soft and changing. The effort is there, the pace of the relationship slow as it should be. Jungkook’s main focus is school now and you’re there to support him along the way. You come over to work while he’s studying or in virtual lectures.

He wants you close. Giving you access to his apartment by creating your personalized finger scan into his home. You also give him a spare key to your place, prompted by a recent out of the city wedding you had to attend and no one else was available to feed Gum and Bubba.

On his large couch, you sit on the opposite end as you answer email inquiries. Wedding season’s peaking again and no matter how busy you may get, you’re never too busy for Jungkook. Nothing stops Jungkook from remaining close to you — not even his overly large couch. He’s never too far, wanting your legs slung over his lap as he listens to his lecture through his headphones. His hands mindlessly massage the bottom of your soles, knowing exactly where you’re most sensitive and tired after a long weekend of being on your feet.

You aren’t quite lovers, but you definitely are not just friends. What you’re building with Jungkook takes time. Lots of failing and hard days, but there are just as many and if more, softer and gentler days where you’re reminded this was all worth it.

Things move as they intend to. Like your slow evening walks, shared hot meals, and camera shutters when Jungkook needs to work on his portfolio or an assignment for class. He tags along with you on a couple of weddings to keep you company, inevitably revealing to you that weddings aren’t his thing. It’s good to be honest with these truths — one less field he’d find himself dipping with in the world of photography. But no matter his contempt, he likes being where you’re at. 

His lecture finishes and he closes his laptop on his table, leaning back as he rests his eyes after realizing how long he’s been on the computer. Sure, school was difficult, but it was structured — no surprises. Just an obligation he willingly signed up for. 

You don’t look up from your laptop, speaking as you type up a response to an inquiry, “What’s on your mind?”

He debates sharing his predicament, hands haven’t stopped his ministrations on your feet as if you were his version of a stress-ball. You breathe through your nose when he hits a particular pressure point.

“I have to go to work next weekend.” He sighs, working on your other foot now. “I’m tired.”

“Can you decline or postpone?” You look up, blue light from your screen bouncing back to your face. 

He shakes his head. “Can’t. I signed a two-parter contract a while back and this is the last installment.”

You close your laptop, feet swinging down to touch his fluffy carpet rug as you scoot closer to him. You were aware contracts and waiver forms existed to protect a business and their clients. In Jungkook’s case, the production he signed with was protecting their assets and securing their future projects. It’s a little demoralizing to view Jungkook as an asset, but that’s how business worked. He had to fulfill his duties to avoid legal penalties.

You lean in and it’s a familiar sight Jungkook’s grown fond of these couple of weeks: cheek squished on his shoulder, you look up with reassuring eyes. ‘It’ll be okay.’

Slowly, you’ve grown to manage the unease of his work, ache returning similar to tides crashing onto land. Sometimes the waves hit stronger than anticipated, but smaller and more manageable tides come ashore.

“Just one day, and it’ll be over soon. Then you’ll be free to focus on your exams afterwards, hm?” You soothe, setting the scenario to make the finish line easier to visualize.

“Yeah.” He grunts, not completely relaxed at the idea of having to do something he doesn’t particularly want to, but a job was a job.

“Hey,” you sit up higher, “is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Shouldn’t have offered that because there’s probably a number of things Jungkook can list off the top of his head. His tongue grows heavy in his mouth at the mere idea of having anything he wanted from you. 

“Something sweet?” You suggest, brows wiggling up and down.

“Right now?” Declining was never in the books when it came to desserts.

You shake your head with a small laugh, “Whenever you’re done with the project. I can bring something after.”

“Okay, Pix. I’d love that.” His hand holds yours. “Surprise me.”

Nights were always spent like this until it was time for one of you to leave. He walks you to your car, waving at the kind receptionist on the way out to the guest parking lot. No longer embraced in summer’s sweltering heat, fall’s brisk air hits your cheeks when you both step out the complex. You never needed an excuse to press your body closer to Jungkook’s side, hand lodged deep in his coat pocket.

“Bye.” You whisper, tippy-toeing as you press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his cold skin just a little longer.

The grip around your hands tighten as he fights off the intrusive thoughts of wishing for your lips to move over any expanse of his skin. There’s no need to deny the fact of having impure thoughts of you … had always been the case whether or not you were with him. It doesn’t help when you press your body closer to his, testing the boundaries of your new relationship with each other. Though, the test always stops where it is needed. 

Passing the test, he gulps, “Text me when you get home, ‘kay?”

“I will.”

Five hours of work and he’ll be free. Considering the masses need to work on average an eight hour shift and sometimes more, Jungkook is fortunate for his work hours to salary ratio. Still not easy doing what he does especially since he isn’t in the right headspace at the moment and school’s been eating up his time — a love-hate relationship when it comes to being in a new learning environment. 

He’s been reevaluating a lot these days, wondering how he’ll juggle his profession with school. And when he finds himself thinking too much of the possibilities, he forces himself to run from those thoughts of quitting everything all together. 

In those difficult moments, thinking about you helps calm his nerves about the future and he feels himself landing back on reality. Not everything needs an immediate answer or decision; moreover, he’s allowed to make mistakes. Much like your relationship with him, the ambiguity doesn’t make him run for the hills anymore. Although you and Jungkook don’t currently have any labels for what you are now, there isn't any uncertainty in his devotion towards you.

He checks his bathroom mirror one more time, piercings taken out because today’s shoot may be a little more physically demanding and he isn’t keen on risking any additional injuries like he had sustained in the first shoot. He signed up for the project on a whim because … well, at the time the money and deal seemed decent. BDSM isn’t something he dabbled a lot in on both the receiving or giving end. However, around the same time he signed the contract, he was still grieving the relationship with you and in need of a distraction — something to make him feel again no matter how painful or rigorous to the body. 

After the first shoot, he needed at least two weeks of rest … both mentally and physically. He isn’t fond of his co-star — Jungkook still remembers the numbers the man did to his body despite signaling his discomfort. 

Locking his door, he makes his way to the elevator. The doors open to reveal a familiar face: Yoona. 

She smiles at him, the lines around her eyes crease from the action. Jungkook nods and steps into the elevator next to her. Her strong perfume permeates his senses; a little too floral for his liking in comparison to the subtle cucumber and jasmine scent on your skin he’s grown attached to. 

“Work?” He asks, looking at his phone. It’s nearly noon, a little late to be going into the office. Then again, what does he know about the corporate life?

“Hyunbin wanted me to visit.” Ah, her ex-husband — explains her appearance and unusual demeanor. He assumes a revenge outfit underneath her long fur coat. “You working?”

“Yup.” He exhales through his nose.

Even without his explanation of his reluctance, Yoona reads him easily … just like how she read him the first two weeks after his split with you, choosing to end things with him because she wasn’t fond of messing with someone who was in emotional distress. She’s already got a lot going on and the last thing she wants is a fuckbuddy using her as an emotional crutch.

She’d rather be a friend or a … mentor? Maybe just a friendly neighbor until he got his shit together.

Be it her years of wisdom or her innate ability to read the younger man, she catches wind of his unwillingness to go to work.

“Hang in there.” She offers, just as her friends regurgitated on multiple venting sessions during the nasty divorce process. It’s the bare minimum as a friend if they aren’t able to do more for you.

“Thanks, you too.” He returns the encouragement with a toothy grin. One of the advantages of being taller than most is his ability to spy over people’s phones. Yoona types away in her phone, the prior messages included a clear image of a male’s lower half and her own response with an image of her freshly showered body in a towel. 

Even with her sunglasses on (which, by the way, are totally unneeded with this gloomy weather), she rolls her eyes under the elevator’s fluorescent lights.

“He’s been begging to make things work again.” She places her phone in her purse. 

“You gonna let him back in?” Surely would lessen the alimony she has to pay him.

Yoona scowls, “I may be single, but I am not lonely.” The elevator dings and signals their arrival on the ground floor. “I can have my cake and eat it.” She smiles, red blooming with her pearly white teeth.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, a surge of sweetness also embraces him now after realizing he also has his ‘cake’ too. Hasn’t quite eaten you the way he wants to, but he’s content. Loves where you are both at and is willing to wait till things settle more in life for the both of you.

Yoona clears her throat, strong floral scent leaving along with her as she steps out of the elevators first. “Take care, Jungkook.” Her heels click on the marble floors as she runs out to the cab waiting for her. 

Jungkook sighs again, making his way to his car and already programming the job site’s address into his Maps app.

Five hours and he’ll be done. 

As promised, you have a sweet treat ready to reward Jungkook after his shift.

It’s uncharacteristic of Jungkook to not answer your texts after a couple of hours. You push away the worry as you make your way up the elevators, tiny brown bag containing something rich and icy you’d typically save for the summer. 

Though, there were no rules on when to consume ice cream, especially if it was made by scratch — especially when you made it with your own spin. Anticipation brews as your steps near the front entrance of his home.

Your fingers press on the knob’s scanner and the latch clicks, ready for you to turn and enter into his home.

The living room’s dark, save for the small light Jungkook programmed to turn on at a specific time. There’s no greeting like you’re used to. Hanging your coat and scarf on the stand, you peer past the entryway as you toe off your shoes.

“Jungkook?” You call out with an air of uncertainty. 

Still no answer. Your eyes adjust to the dim surroundings, eyes eventually falling onto a figure you’d recognize in any condition. 

Jungkook’s laid down on his couch, one arm over his eyes. He’s in his sweats, showered and asleep. Your shoulders drop, tip-toeing past him to put the sweet treat into the freezer. You come back to the living room, not without picking up the fallen throw blanket on the ground, placing it on his body.

You could crack open your laptop to do some work in his kitchen until he stirs awake or just leave and let him rest. Straightening up from your bent position, a sharp inhale comes from below as Jungkook removes his forearm from his face and lifts his head up to peer around his surroundings. He sees you and drops his head in relief, breathing patterns stabilizing with a drag of his hand down his face.

“What time is it?”

“A little past 8.” You reply, sitting near his knees. 

“Sorry, Pix. I crashed.” His throat cracks from sleep, “Time slipped.”

“‘S okay.” You reply, pinkie hooking onto his. “Would you like to rest some more? I won’t bother you.”

He swallows, unsure if he would rather be left alone or if he needed your company. He’s not sure he would be good company.

“I don’t know.” His other arm comes up again to cover his eyes. Misery also needed company too, and he doesn’t want to be away from you.

You seem to get the hint. Couch, stiff and hard as ever, seems to bend at the weight of you both for this moment of tenderness. 

“Hard day?” You ask.

His throat bobs, and that’s when you notice the red marks near his Adam’s apple and his wrist. Your lips tug down, fingers itching to soothe the pain over his skin. You curl closer to him, hoping your presence would be enough to redirect his thoughts.

“Yeah. Was difficult.” He replies, voice shaky. His breath comes out uneven as he sniffles into his arm. “Ah, sorry, maybe it’s better if I’m alone.”

He hadn’t realized a couple tears had slipped out from the corners of his eyes until one of your hands cups his jaw, thumb rubbing away some of the moisture in your touch. He sucks in another breath, chest stuttering as a small sob tumbles out. He turns, burying his face into your chest as his arms come from underneath to hold you.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes repeatedly. You repeatedly tell him you’re not leaving — that you’re here to stay. Fingers running through his dark locks, your touches force his eyes shut, a relieved sigh exiting as he regulates his breathing. 

“I’m here, you’re okay.” You promise, your nails scratching his head produces a soft whimper as he buries his bigger frame deeper into your body. When you try to pull away to assess his face, he only tugs you in tighter. You chuckle, hand patting and soothing the expanse of his back.

“Kook?”

He grunts, too exhausted to verbalize a reply.

“I’m gonna go make something, okay? You stay here and rest.”

He reluctantly loosens his grip on you, and holds onto the fact you were staying. Accepting your proposal, he goes back into a more dignified position with his arm slung over his eyes.

You move with precision; kitchen layout memorized of where all the seasonings and cooking utensils were located, you come back into the living room with a small pot of ramen in under ten minutes. The wooden heat protector clanks onto his coffee table in your descent to the ground. You wince, apologetic for startling him again.

“Didn’t have to make me food, Pix.” He pushes himself up slowly, face contorting in discomfort as he sits upright.

“Wanted to. Come on, have a bite, please?” You had already started rolling the noodles into the spoon, creating a perfect single bite. You blow on the food a little before Jungkook dips his head halfway to receive the food. 

Unlike the painful expression he previously sported, his brows furrow as he chews on the food — a good sign. Nothing’s more healing than a warm meal; a warm meal made with love. 

“Thanks, P.” He smiles, and the parts of him lost during the hours of the shoot are slowly coming back.

“I’m glad.” Your eyes land on his neck first, then over his wrists where the red rings were most prominent. “Did you want to put on ointment? Tell me where you keep your medicine and I can—”

“It’ll heal on its own.” He declines, ready and rehearsed for your concerns. And because he knows there were a billion other questions in that pretty head of yours, he comes clean on his reasons for tonight’s exhaustion. “Co-star went off script towards the end and it threw me for a loop.” He explains, head rested on the back of the couch.

You nod, arms tightening around him. “That sounds awful. I’m sorry …”

He releases another heavy breath. “I-I don’t know, Pix. It’s usually not this bad.”

“What do you mean?” Frowning, you didn’t think you’d ever witness Jungkook in this state: defeated over the profession he willingly chose and stayed for. 

His blank eyes stare off into the distance, zeroing on the corner of his flat screen television. The corners of his mouth twitch, exhaling a shaky breath before murmuring, “I’m scared to quit.”

And despite his discomfort with the subject, he continues, “I … I’ve been thinking about it and it feels like I can’t focus on other things when I have to think about work.” He also doesn’t want to mention the shame he has in quitting, inevitably proving people right that his line of work was not sustainable in the long-run. He doesn’t want to admit he’s outgrown the field that’s built everything around him: his friends, home, experiences, and … you. If it weren’t for his job, he wouldn’t have found you.

But was gratitude and loyalty needed for a profession that brings him more stress and worries?

Though rare, he’s wrestled with these difficult moments in this field, often wondering how life would be if he didn’t need to endure. What version of him exists outside of the industry? He knows what happiness is, but he’s also familiar with the deep dread and disappointment in staying. 

“It’s scary.” You concede, staring off into the same space Jungkook had fixated. “But I know you’ll figure it out. You’re not alone. I’m here with you no matter what you decide on.”

His eyes well up again. He used to think people were crazy for suffering, crying during and off work hours. Now? He’s no different. Change is scary, but remaining the same is scarier. And he’s remained the same for so long, fighting the norms and societal expectations of him.

All this to realize … he’s also just a boy with dreams and aspirations, hope cupped in his hands waiting to be discovered. The industry may be a part of him, but it was never all he was. While he doesn’t know what the future entails, he knows he needs to do something different — his profession does not define his identity.

“Yes, I know.” He lets you rub gentle circles on his bruised wrist, lets you bring up his wrist and blow a cooling breath over his skin before you lay a gentle kiss. “Thank you.”

You and Jungkook remain like this for a while, just sharing each other’s warmth and company until you perk up about the dessert you brought over. He chuckles as you pry open the container and a peek of light orange reaches his vision. Jungkook relishes in the small notes of cinnamon and persimmons hitting his taste buds.

The container of ice cream gets annihilated within fifteen minutes, cold running down your esophagus and tummy, but there’s always a source of heat in your stomach as you sit close to your biggest source of warmth.

Refusing his offer to walk you to your car, you only allow Jungkook to see you out his door in favor of him resting more.

“Thanks for tonight, P. I really needed this.” He needs you more than ever. Holding your hands, he lets his gaze trail down to your lips before he brings them back up to your eyes. He’s been through this route many times, showing restraint because he knows better than to do something too rushed despite his mind and body screaming at him to disobey the boundary you both set. 

As always, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

It’s enough. Because he feels you through the food you make for him, your touch, and your unwavering care.

As you stare up at him with starry eyes, he also realizes:

Intimacy doesn’t have to be perfect, but it is with you.

Jungkook completed his first semester of courses with flying marks. With a heavy heart, he decided to stop working in adult filming after another week of mulling through his options. In his resolve he tells himself the decision’s indefinite … subject to change. But ever since he let his agent know of his career change, he has not looked back. 

Though the weather remains chilly, spring’s around the corner. The season brings the birds in the early mornings, flowers blossoming around his apartment complex, and the love blooming in his chest whenever he sees you.

Tonight’s a special night for you. Your cohort wanted to do a little social gathering at a club and you invited Jungkook as your plus-one. He wasn’t planning on drinking, opting to be your designated driver for the night. He looks over at you, eyes sparkly with glitter … or perhaps, you glow more under his stares.

Weather’s still cold, but he knows it will warm up at the venue as the night progresses. He lays his brown jacket on your lap as he drives you both to the venue. You’re so pretty in your skin-tight black turtleneck and gold chain necklace. Upon final inspection in your body length mirror, you made a remark how you looked like The Rock minus the fannypack. Jungkook laughed and tugged you along, mumbling how you looked beautiful and how you were going to be late if you did another outfit change. And while the weather is ever turbulent, jumping between hot and cold days, there’s nothing turbulent between you and Jungkook.

Even though you abstained from changing out of your ‘Pre-2012 The Rock’ fit, you were late with how the parking situation worked out. Too many cars, too little parking options when you were deep into the nightlife district of the city. Jungkook parked at an open lot about a twenty minute walking distance. Terrible, you know. But the trip was well worth it with his company. Had you been alone, you probably would have chosen to order a cab, but you’ve never felt safer in Jungkook’s hand as you both walk down the busy streets on a Saturday night. 

“Thanks again for coming with me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus,” He squeezes your hand. “You’re coming with me to my friend’s wedding next weekend. So we’re even.”

“Oh no … weddings are so, so, so awful,” you chide with batted lashes. 

He grins, “It is when you gotta be in dress pants.”

You giggle, staring up at the illuminated neon lights around town. “My classmates are excited to meet you, Mr. 9th-Annual-Shutter-Winner.” You grin, the side of your body presses close to him. You look down at his phone where it navigates the leftover walking distance to the club: estimated time of arrival – five minutes.

Jungkook was nervous. Not as a result of meeting your classmates, but he knew a certain someone was going to be there. Kim Taehyung, your best friend and confidant, will also be in attendance. He’s gotten along with him in the past on set. Eccentric guy, a bit of a Namjoon fanatic, but birds of a feather flock together. Namjoon’s creative, kind, and visionary. It’s only natural Taehyung gravitates towards him in this industry.

Regardless, Jungkook’s nervous. He doesn’t voice his concern when you had disclosed that Taehyung was aware of your relationship history with Jungkook. He would never hold you back on talking about your troubles to your friends because it’s important to build that trust and rapport. He hopes his entire persona isn’t completely irreconcilable just yet with the time he’s spent trying to grow and cultivate a healthy relationship with you.

Once in the club, you make your rounds with Jungkook by your side. Lots of new faces, and maybe a select few that were recognizable as a result of the photography competition. 

“Hey Jungkook, heard you were in the photography program,” one of the judges for the past photography competition, Rowoon, smiles, “I know at the end of your photography program they’re going to request for an internship. Let me know if you need help connecting with a photographer.”

“That’d be awesome.” Jungkook smiles.

Jungkook’s appreciative for moments like these, easy conversations blending in with your life. You’ve been surrounded with good people. Well, good enough for you to want to rekindle and meet up every so once in a while.

He watches you from afar now, a mocktail in hand as he lets the ice melt and lessen the syrupy taste of the drink.

You smile into your cup as one of your classmates animate a pose of some sort — probably from a recent project or client. Regardless, he finds himself smiling too, eyes focused on your figure. It’s all tunnel vision, really, how everything around you blurs and this gooey feeling swirls and pools in the pit of his stomach.

He recognizes this, having experienced this similar breakthrough in the past with previous partners. While the hard impact of the realization came far less than this moment, his feelings were undeniable.

He loves you.

An awful realization to have when you guys are out in public and not in privacy, where he can bare his emotions to you freely. His palms sweat, heart accelerating at the welcomed epiphany and rush.

He has been patient and gentle in these last couple of months. That, he’ll give himself credit for. But all the self work he’s done is about to leave as he’s one mocktail sip away from walking over to you and declaring his feelings.

Not the right place nor time. Certainly worse when he can’t drink to distract himself.

“Mind if I join ya?”

Jungkook startles out his thoughts, craning his neck to the side to find Kim Taehyung smiling lazily at him. He simply gestures for the empty stool, all while trying to relocate you after the minor detractor.

Even with the heavy bass of the club music, Jungkook’s eyes still remain on your figure, making sure you’re safe and having fun — as you should always be. 

Taehyung grunts in his descent onto the barstool, gaze following where Jungkook looks at.

“You all socialed out?” Jungkook mindlessly asks — a miracle he’s strung up a coherent sentence. 

Taehyung scoffs at the lack of focus, but replies, “Gets a little tiring explaining my gigs and seeing them react the same way.”

This time, Jungkook stares back at the seated man, completely understanding his sentiment. He knows exactly what Taehyung has experienced being in the industry — their little common ground. 

“You know,” Taehyung begins, “I still don’t get the whole thing with you and her.”

Lips pursed, he drums his fingers on the bar counter, “How so?”

“Friends, but not. Lovers, but not.” Taehyung tips his drink back. “What are you guys even waiting for?”

What was Jungkook waiting for?

“Just want to take our time.” He replies. “Not trying to rush things.”

“Kind of backwards, don’t you think?” He shrugs his shoulders before continuing, “Look man, I’ll be upfront. I’m still on the fence about you.” 

“I know.” Jungkook’s aware he’s far from perfect, knowing his hesitancy in moving forward stems from his insecurities and his fears of hurting you in the process.

“She likes you a lot. And I trust my best friend. If things go sour, well … at least we’ll know how to pick up the pieces this time around.”

Taehyung waves down the bartender for a refill. “I give her a lot of shit for putting herself in a box, but all she does is try. So why don’t you guys try?”

Jungkook’s been so afraid of hurting. In turn, he’s robbing you both of the possibility for something so much more. He loves what he has with you, but was this enough?

You turn, also finding him, and smile.

It’s not enough. He wants more — he needs more.

Taehyung settles back as he watches the scene unfold in front of him with a smug smile. 

Finally.

Jungkook’s on autopilot as he weaves through the crowd. The back of his neck grows sweaty, less from the stuffy venue and more from his nerves and this final act of trying to do the right thing for once. He wants to do right by you, and right now all he wants is to be near you.

He needs to be near you.

You seem to think the same too, placing your empty glass onto the edge of the bar top. There aren’t any remnants of green or cherries, only a sliver of yellow on the bottom he recognizes as his trademark drink.

His heart drums against his chest as you do a quick side hug with the classmate, so eager to get to him in the midst of the hazy, man-made smoke and crowded dance floor.

The path to you was damn near impossible to get to, packed like sardines and people unwilling to move. Though, you both will always find a way to each other. Head tilted, you motion Jungkook to the side of the dance floor. It’s dimly lit, some of the club’s strobing lights don’t touch. Light’s not needed because you’re forever drawn to each other.

“Hi.” You smile up at him, eyes slightly droopy as your hand finds his. “Sorry. Haven’t been able to hang out with you that much tonight.”

He shakes his head, placing your hand behind his neck. Your fingers search for the longer locks he sported in the winter months, but you’ve always preferred his shorter cut. The prickle of the undercut was something you’ve longed for all night long. His silver hooped earrings graze your exposed wrist, the cold metal offering a nice touch on your hot skin.

He shakes his head, “‘S okay, Pix.” You both sway, neither of you really know what song is playing. It all blurs to white noise when you’re with each other. “Did you catch up with everyone?”

“Mhm.” You hum, leaning in to press your face against his chest. There’s a slight drop to your shoulders signifying your exhaustion, but Jungkook reads your demeanor like the back of his hands.

With a hum, he murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

“Everyone’s in production companies.” You sulk, frown felt on his strong front. 

Your words hold a little bitterness, a hint of dejection at the idea you weren’t exactly doing what everyone was doing. But that’s what made you special. You’re doing what you want to do and you’ve stuck by it.

“You ever think about joining one?” He asks into your hair. 

You lift your head from his chest, chin digging into his sternum. “It’s not for me, but sometimes, I feel like I’m missing out.”

Just like how he thinks he might miss out on something wonderful if he continues as things are, but a club where you’re having a reunion with old classmates isn’t the right time or place for a confession.

Jungkook nods. “Can do whatever you want. The world’s your oyster.”

He doesn’t need any of the strobing lights or a spotlight in the tiny nook you’ve both claimed with the way you smile at him. Not when you stare up at him like he’s the world, ready to be claimed by you. Before he does anything too impulsive, he leads you both closer to the center of the dance floor. Back turned to him, his hands rest on the dips of your hips. Chin tucked in the crook of your neck, he takes in your jasmine and cucumber scent, wondering if you’re just as addicted to his scent. 

“Did you have your usual?” He mumbles into your ear.

You shake your head, shivering from his voice. “Midori sour’s not always on the menu.”

He hums in agreement, thinking back to the arrangements he made at the club he hosted his celebratory party at. Honestly, there was no major issue requesting the addition of the drink; the manager was happy to accommodate. 

“What’d you have earlier?” His voice comes out low, rumbling against you.

You nearly whimper your answer as he circles his arms around your midsection, not wanting to lose any physical contact from you. “Highball.”

His grin stretches across his face, muscle memory as his mouth salivates for the drink. “Did you like it?”

You turn around now, and Jungkook does little to reposition his forehead on yours. This time, another type of restraint courses through his body as his eyes bounce between your hooded stare and pouty lips.

“Mm, I wanted to try what you liked. Not my thing,” you conclude. “Wasn’t sweet at all.” 

Jungkook doesn’t need the additional sweetness in his drinks when he’s surrounded by sweetness in his life. Can do away with sugar because you’re here. 

“What did you have tonight?” You ask back.

“Wild night with some sort of wild berry mocktail.” He teases.

“Lucky, I wish I had that.” Your eyes drop to his lips — he follows your line of vision as you look back up at him.

“Was nice.” He concedes, voice dropping an octave. “Better if it was a highball.”

The music’s loud, but nothing’s louder than the drumming in his ears — the voice in his head yelling at him to close the gap between you two. The same gap you both maintained in these last couple of months. It’s been working so well for you two, reworking your foundation and taking things slow all while hoping it would lead to your desired goal: each other.

Jungkook’s forehead remains on yours, lips parted slightly at your delayed blinks. And although the label had always blurred between the two of you, he had always been yours. Yours, when he entered the establishment with his hand on your hips, guiding you away from rowdy groups at the main point of entrance. Yours, when all you’ve done tonight was match his stares, wanting so badly to be in his company instead of folks you haven’t spoken to in years face to face.

All yours.

“Want a taste?” You ask, making no move to go to the bar. He stays rooted there too, knowing full well he’s not allowed a single drop of alcohol in his system. The entrancement lasts all but a second before a flicker of fear flashes across your features. 

Deja vu.

Was this all a figment of your imagination and it could get ripped from you any moment? If you lean in like you did months ago, would you be punished by rejection again?

Your brows furrow, eyes pleading up at Jungkook to answer your unspoken questions.

And he reads you so easily — remembers you and knows your insecurities before you do sometimes.

He breathes you in, nose now nestled against your own with no intentions of ever leaving.

“Please?” Your warmth fans over to him, a soft plea worthy of ending wars Jungkook would only qualify as his own battles.

He thinks about that night at the club where you had left him, foolishly clutching onto the flimsy cone-shaped cups while the world spun with you nowhere in sight. Thinks about the prospect of you leaving again and how ruined he’d be without you.

Jungkook pleads with you too now, “Please don’t leave me.”

You shake your head. “I’m right here.”

He thinks he deserves a little bit of heaven. Funny, how he thinks the universe could grant him kisses from a million angels, but he’d only want a lifetime of yours. The last thing he sees are two slow blinks from your sparkly-glittered lids, pulling and signaling him into a soft landing: to home — he finally finds his way back home.

He cups your face, delicate in how he holds you because there’s nothing more he’d like to do than to handle you with all the care and tenderness in the world. He sighs into your lips, relieved to finally have you like this. Where you both meet in the middle now.

Highball, in the simplest terms, was bland whiskey. The taste of the drink was probably the furthest thing you can get to the sweetness of your typical midori sour. And yet, you still tried for him. He knows how much you try for him and you’ve done your best to accept him — the work and effort you put into adoring Jungkook never goes unnoticed.

He doesn’t taste the highball, none of the usual remnants of the drink he’s grown to like as he runs his tongue over your plump lips. Perhaps it’s also that he no longer searches for that familiar aftertaste; instead, welcoming something he’s longed for and missed these months. His tongue moves over your lips again, slow and deliberate to savor the sweetness. 

Your mouth parts for him, a tentative push of his tongue and you’re reduced to putty. He trails one hand down your hip, pulling you flush against him. 

It’s all muscle memory, how puzzle pieces fit just for you and Jungkook. He groans against your mouth, the low sound vibrates through your body, sending a shock through your body and heat building in your middle.

Your name is all but a rasp as Jungkook goes straight to your lips again after your small whine. He can’t get enough of you, the background noise and people blurring in his pursuit of you. You kiss him back. Months after months of waiting, slowly rebuilding, knowing exactly where the finish line is … and the kiss now was just one of your many monumental milestones with Jungkook.

He needs to pull away for air, mindful of your own state too despite his unwillingness to stray away. It’s everything he’d expect a kiss from you to be after all this time: sweet, with no hint of the drink he fancied. 

Nose nestled to yours and brazen smiles exchanged, Jungkook does his best to regulate his breathing.

“You’d ever give highball another try, Pix?” He breathes, peppering tinier kisses on your lips, rendering it nearly impossible to properly respond.

“Yeah.” You reply in between kisses. “I’d try it again. It’s worth another chance.”

When he finally pulls away with much reluctance, his heart drums against his chest at your response — at your implication. 

You wanted this with him. 

“You’ll teach me how to properly drink it?” You look at him with the softest gaze.

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Will drink it with you.”

No one was talking about the drink. Though, much like the drink, love and affection was always better shared and experienced together. 

And it’s so much better savoring those moments with you.

You and Jungkook eventually leave the dance floor to socialize with your other classmates, catching Taehyung with a content smile as he peers down at your interlinked hands. Jungkook’s hand involuntarily tightens around yours and you look up, eyes holding a playful curiosity as to what he wants.

You mouth, ‘You tired?’

He shakes his head no, though, his droopy eyelids and slight sway to his body tells you otherwise. You’re also tired too, wanting nothing more than to be with your desired source of warmth.

You quickly make your rounds, bidding your farewells and blaming your age for not being able to stay longer. Thankfully, a couple of your other classmates left before you, so your attempt to leave didn’t look out of the blue. Your goodbye with Taehyung takes a little longer as he whispers something in your ear, eyes playful as you pull away and lightly smack his arm. 

Jungkook smiles once you’re back by his side, the cold night air hitting you both outside the club. He offered to run to the car while you wait back, but you insisted on coming with him. “Ready for the walk, Miss Rock?” 

With narrowed eyes, you huddle closer, pretty pout on your lips he so wants to kiss. 

“You said I looked great.” You huff, beginning the long trek back to the car. 

“The Rock looked great, and so do you, Pix.” He teases.

Three minutes into your walk, a random downpour starts out of nowhere. 

Jungkook takes off his brown jacket, slinging it over both your bodies as you do your best to run from the rain. Shared incredulous giggles and glances with each other made the trip back even better. Unable to fully avoid the downpour, Jungkook opts to just cover you with his jacket. The theatrics continue once a car passes, wheels producing a splash over your bodies.

Unneeding of the jacket now, you lower the jacket around your shoulder, tugging Jungkook through the rain as you both near the car. He looks at you from behind, catching your stare back while urging him to move quicker. 

But he’s in no rush.

He’s never been in a rush with you.

Steps coming to a halt, you look back again with a questioning expression. His hair’s matted on his forehead, eyes squinting from the rain water, but he can see you so clearly under the yellow of the streetlights.

He says your name, your steps stumble as you land in his embrace. Cold fingers run on your cheek before he admits, “I don’t think I can just be what we’ve been. I want this with you — I want to be with you.” 

He doesn’t ask you if you want the same. Didn’t have the chance as his eyes widened the same moment your lips met his.

Rain beats down on your bodies, hard and punishing. The cold water seeping through your clothing is nothing compared to the heat searing from your bodies. Your fingers run through his hair from behind, urging him closer if it were possible. His hold on you tightens and you unconsciously arch into him, no longer caring how the rain water runs down your face.

Jungkook breaks apart from the kiss, “It’s always been you, P.” Warm breath on your lips as he utters words he's long realized and wanted to tell you, “I … I’m in love with you.”

It’s freeing. Not just his confession, but how the rain continues washing out everything around you both. The good, the bad. The aftermath of a storm allows for rebuilding — for flowers to blossom, for growth and to start anew.

He thinks about all the time spent together and apart — the happiness, trust, and fears … it all inevitably brings him back to you. And as the rain waters continue to fall, he finds himself free falling into your embrace — the easy love.

“I love you,” You profess, brows pulling together tears mixing in with the rain, “So much. You know that, yeah?”

He does. But even so, he still asks, “Please be with me.” He chews on the inside of his mouth, so fearful of rejection as though you could choose any other route. “Please?”

You nod, leaning in for a kiss that could only seal your answer to him. “I’m yours. Always been yours.”

A relieved chuckle stutters from his chest, holding you close. “Home?”

“Home.” You reply.

Jungkook’s home was closer in proximity, so it would only be natural to head over there to change out of your soaked clothes. Even with the seat warmers turned onto the highest setting and his jacket slung over your lap like it was in the beginning of the night, you shiver and shudder in your seat.

“Can use my shower too, P.” He pushes his wet bangs back and reasons, “Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Mmkay,” Your teeth involuntarily chatters, hands tucked in between your thighs underneath his jacket to retain your heat.

His hand naturally finds yours. “We’ll be home soon, ‘kay?”

Back at his home, he gives you a spare t-shirt with some sweatpants, letting you know that he’ll shower at the guest bathroom while you use the master bedroom’s. It’s not your first time in his bedroom, having been there a couple times when he was busy and needed you to retrieve something for him in there. The citrus scent embraces you as you walk in, fingers tightening around his clothes. He’s fumbling around his dresser to get his own clothing, hair dried to a damp mess and coarse at the ends from the washed away hair products. His shirt drags over his large frame, seemingly heavier around the shoulder area from the rainwater.

Back still turned away, he cranes his neck to you and catches your curious stare. “Go on and use the shower, P.”

You nod, clothes feeling unbearingly tight whether it be from the rain or the suffocating dilemma of not wanting to leave Jungkook’s side.

In the shower, he’s still with you through the shampoo and body wash. You run your hands around your body, knowing this is your way of keeping him close. Will you need to go home after this? Does the mirage end here with the suds of soap pooling at your toes?

Does it end with his scent on your body?

All dried and in his clothes, you stare at the mirror, a small smile playing at your lips at the visual of your body drowned in his oversized t-shirt. You roll the bottom of the sweatpants and tug at the drawstrings to secure around your waist.

You peer into his bedroom. “Jungkook?” No response. 

Walking out to the living space, you notice a tuft of hair on the large couch’s armrest. Two glasses of water — all full — just like your heart, rests on the coffee table. Peering over the couch, your lover lays there, eyes closed with a rhythmic breathing pattern nowhere close to being asleep.

You come around and seat yourself on the edge of the couch. An unsuspecting force pulls you down, followed by a small ‘oomph,’ you attempt to sit back up.

“Can we rest a little before I take you home?” He mumbles, breathing into your hair.

Your ear is pressed against his chest, his heart thumping way too fast for rest. Working up your courage, you snuggle into his warmth as you murmur, “It’s late. Don’t want you driving at this hour.” Before he could ask if you’d want him to fetch a cab, you follow up with, “If it’s okay … can I stay over tonight?”

The drumming in his chest speeds up, but his words come out assertive. “Of course, P.”

The guest room sits empty as Jungkook leads you back to his bedroom, a sleepy smile on his face as he catches your yawn and places the glass of water onto the nightstand closest to where you’ll sleep. He hooks his index fingers in the collar of his shirt and yanks it over his head, tossing the article of clothing on the ottoman near the foot of his bed.

You swallow, eyes raking over his toned body you’ve grown so familiar with. His tattoo lines look darker under the warm hues of his nightlight. Underneath his covers, your eyes fight to stay open, only allowing them to blink shut when he encircles his arms around you.

“Night, P.” He mumbles.

“Good night, Kook.”

Around 5 a.m. you wake up with the worst case of dry mouth, having already drank the glass of water in the middle of the night, and another time Jungkook refilled without your knowledge. You pout at the glass sitting pretty and empty on the nightstand.

There’s an unfamiliar weight on your midsection causing you to suck in a breath as you look down. Intricate patterns and faded colors greet you before you turn your head to meet their owner.

Jungkook’s on his front, pouty mouth parted and lashes kissing the top of his cheeks. His rhythmic light snores tell you he’s still in deep slumber if not for the sleep-lines on the side of his face where he buries himself further into his fluffy pillows.

There’s a stillness in waking up next to Jungkook like this — at the realization there’s no need to run or leave. He’s here within a distance you can comfortably reach. 

You think back to last night, between the kisses and confessions, everything seemed like a dream. You’re tempted to reach over to brush away the strand of his bangs. Want to see if he’d stir awake and look at you as he did before you both fell asleep last night.

That’s the funny thing about love — can’t bear the selfishness and greed of your own desires. So instead, you do your best to uncurl from his lazy hold, already missing his warmth as you grab the rims of your glass to fetch some water.

You’ve only been over in the afternoon and evening, never knowing the brisk morning air. Jungkook’s room was warm, temperature maintained by the heat of your bodies, but in the open living space, you shiver a little from cold and the absence of a familiar body.

Glass refilled, you make your way back to Jungkook, but something pulls you to an abrupt stop.

You’ve only seen this view at night, always curious how differing the morning view would be. Orange peeks and greets you on the horizon, begging for your presence even when there is another star you rather be with.

Just a couple more minutes and the sun will rise — a view you’ve never seen from here. Lips nursing on your glass, you smile as you hear another pair of feet shuffle in your direction. Not subtle at all. He makes his presence known with a small yawn, standing behind you, he presses his chest against you from behind and wraps his arms around your abdomen.

“Whatcha doing up so early?” Voice laced with sleep.

“Wanted to get water,” you bring the glass up to his view, “sun’s about to rise now.” You nod at the window. 

His body vibrates against yours at a particularly low chuckle. “‘S nice, isn’t it? Can see everything from here.”

You hum in agreement. You love the view, love his touch, love him. And because you love him, you give him the remainder of your water. Glass now empty again, he sets the cup on a small stand. The surrounding air stifles as a strong pair of arms wrap around you tighter, cluing in a shift in the easy morning conversation.

“P, I meant everything I said last night.” He says, afraid you hadn’t retained any recollection of last night’s event — as though all the magic last night was all but a trick and illusion.

There’s no illusion in your adoration for him, turning away from the sun, you realize you have everything in front of you worth orbiting for.

“I meant everything too.” You reply, feeling the sun warm your back, but even that source of warmth wasn’t enough incentive to have you turning away from Jungkook again. “I love you. Wanna be with you.”

You tip-toe, lips pressing delicately against his only spurs on his tiny moan as he meets you in the middle. His teeth nibble on your bottom lip, causing you to part them with a small gasp. He takes this moment to lick into your mouth, tongue running against yours to savor you. He could blame the morning wood on … well, the morning, and not your soft lips, but he’s wanted you like this for so long and now you’re finally his.

He angles your chin, doing his best to distract you from the bulge pressed against your stomach, to which you also push against. Grunting, he huffs into your mouth, “Pix, please.”

You hum a small ‘what?’

So dangerous of you to push something he’s been suppressing for months. Aching for your touch, but he’s respectful of the change in dynamics. He wants to be respectful now, but was there a need?

“I’m trying to be good.” He mumbles, kissing along your jaw and making his way down your neck. His teeth rake against the expanse of your skin, reveling in your shivers and the way your nails dig into his back.

“You are good.” You sigh prettily. “So good to me.”

And because of this, Jungkook wants to show you other ways he could be good to you. It’s what you deserve — nothing makes him happier than making you feel good. Back pressed against the glass panes, the initial cold morphs and changes with the sun and your combined body heat.

His hand snakes up your shirt, large palm halting at your stomach until you nod for him to move. You moan at the contact of his thumb moving over your hardening bud.

“Feels good, pretty?” He mouths against your neck.

You swallow and nod, “J-Jungkook, can people,” another moan slips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive juncture of your neck, “see us from here?”

Being on the thirty-fourth floor had its perks and advantages. He doesn’t have next door neighbors except for the floor above and below him, which works in his favor. 

“No one can see us, P.” He shakes his head, “You want them to?”

He grips your chest a little harder, urging for an answer before he continues. Head lifted to your face, his hooded eyes draw you in. 

“No,” you place a soft kiss on his jaw, “Want this just between us.”

He also can’t imagine having another person watch you both. Can’t imagine sharing an experience like this with someone other than you. 

“Yeah, it’s just you and me.”

The hand on your hip runs up your front, cupping your cheek first before he slips a soft request while looking at your lips, “Open, please.”

Your mouth parts, and his hand drags over your cheek, his middle and ring finger probing and sliding over your wet muscle. His cock twitches in his sweats at the thought of possibly feeling your mouth again. Those thoughts break the moment you close around his digits, warm and wet around him. Your cheeks hollow without command as you eagerly suck on his fingers. You look at him with determined eyes, fighting to stay open but loses the battle before fluttering shut when his thumb runs over your hard nipple again.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He promises, “‘s that okay?”

You nod, unable to verbalize a response with his fingers in your mouth. Soon his wet fingers slip out of your mouth and he slips them past the waistband of your folded sweats.

“Oh god,” Your hips buck back from the sudden contact of his fingers, ass pushed against the glass. “P-please.” You beg, unsure of what exactly but Jungkook takes it as a request to move. His middle finger slots perfectly between your wet folds, circling around the bundle of nerves. 

“Wanna touch you, too.” You plead, “Can I?”

He tips his forehead against yours, hips pushed against your hand. “Uh-huh, want you to touch me.”

Your hand slips into his sweats, making contact with his bare length. The angle of your bodies makes it difficult to tug or squeeze as you like, but he shudders just by the mere contact of your soft hand.

“P, don’t—” He moves back slightly to peer down at your hand working over his length. “Don’t tease.” 

Lip tucked between his teeth, his own hand speeds up over your clit, wet sounds growing by the second. He hopes you do the same too, but you keep your lazy strokes, watching him with hooded eyes. “Not,” you pause, eyes closing when he nears you, pressing a dainty kiss, “teasing.”

“Tell me what you need.” You murmur against his lips.

“Faster,” He whines, “need you to go faster—fuck—” He groans when you comply, hand picking up the pace.

And be it from the patience and time endured after months of dreaming of being with you … or he was just that easy, he finishes in his sweats in under a minute. Your hand slowly jerks over his length, hand coated in his cum.

“Koo, did you cum?” You breathe, unsure from the sudden liquidy warmth. He moans a small yes, angling his head for your kisses on his neck, teeth dragging over his collarbone as a reward for his confirmation. Your hand glides over the head of his sensitive cock. “Made a mess all for me.”

He kisses you, deft fingers on your clit as he touches away the embarrassment of cumming before he’s gotten to properly take care of you. It’s no give or take situation, but he wants to give back to you.

He removes his hand and you nearly cry out at the loss of his touch. Your cum covered hand gets tugged from his pants at the same time. Doesn’t care you’re unconsciously wiping away your hand on your shirt — everything was going into the wash anyway, ridding any evidence of the sinful acts you’ll both willingly partake in.

How sinful were they if they were embarked by two people in love? 

Fingers hooked on the waistband of your sweats, he drags them down your hips, leaving both your soaked underwear and pants pool at your ankles. His eye contact never wavers as he drops down on his knees, only breaking at the long shirt length covering your bare cunt. With a knowing glance, you hold the bottom of the shirt, while the other one falls on the side of his head for support as nudges your legs apart. 

“So perfect,” he praises, eyes peering up at you, “All mine.” His fingers form a ‘v’ as he spreads your glistening folds, mouth watering at the sight of your twitching clit. He moves in, placing a kiss on the side of your pussy, just shy of your nub. The action has you furrowing your brows, mouth dropping open as you involuntarily push your hips forward.

You mewl, thighs closing when he finally slots his tongue over the self-made opening between his fingers. He licks, sucks, and kisses the tiny nub. And you stand there, taking everything he’s willing to give you. He loves watching you struggle maintaining eye contact, loves the shy smile you give him when you had a moment of realization of how loud you were in the early hours of his home, and loves the small tug from your fingers in his hair when he repeatedly presses his lips to your clit.

You were already so close before this, but now he has you tipping on the edge again. Jungkook’s eyes close, tongue lapping your cunt.

Your thighs shake, breath caught in your throat as he continues the motions. And even though he’s not looking at you, he knows you’re about to let go as you rock your hips into his face. Using one hand, his fingers dig into the back of your thigh as he brings one of them over his shoulder.

“Baby–” You rasp.

“Hm?” He answers, muffled against your core. The vibrations against your cunt have your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lids slam shut from the sensation.

You whimper, stomach clenching at the first signal of your orgasm. Your fingers clutch pathetically at the end of the shirt, mindful of the other hand interlocked with his locks. But you’re bolder now, know what you like and need … and what you like is Jeon Jungkook moaning against your core, encouraging you to cum. What you need is to extend this feeling for as long as you can, so you push his head closer as you grind your spasming cunt to his face.

“Cumming,” you manage to get out, “Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”

Jungkook can’t answer, wishes he could; though, all his wishes are being fulfilled as he’s head deep between your legs. He pulls away after your hips press back against the glass, signaling your sensitive state. Hooded gaze fixed, he takes in the visual of your cheek pressed onto your shoulder — a habit he’s noticed every time you’ve cummed. Your eyes blink open slowly, blinded by the light coming in from the rising sun.

“I’m sorry, P.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all with his mischievous grin as he kisses your inner thigh — the one he has thrown over his shoulder. “You missed the sunrise.”

You croon, a small playful pout on your lips. “I did.” You release his hair, hand cupping his jaw. You moan in surprise when he latches onto your clit again, lazy sucks as he peers up at you.

He places one last kiss to your nub and suggests, “Should turn around then, take in the current view.” He leaves out the fact that you’ll have plenty of more chances to see the view.

He places your leg down. While wobbly at first, you plant your feet sturdy before complying with his request. He’s right — the city’s beautiful. 

Jungkook also has the best view in the city too. 

You look back at him from your shoulder, eyes catching his, “You’re not watching with me?”

“Perfect view here.” He scoots back a little, ignoring the discomfort and numbness in his knees. You brace against the glass, fist clenched tightly at the anticipation of what your lover wants to do. No one cares about the prospect of a stained glass as you hinge your hips out to him, the underside of your wet pussy entrances him.

He pushes your shirt up over the curves of your hips and the sight before him has his cock hardening in his sweats again. A creamy white sheen trickles down your slit, begging to be licked up before it dribbles onto the floor.

And he does. With a cock to his head, he slots his mouth over your leaky cunt.

You wail, cheek pressed against the glass as you fog up a small section with your warm puffs of air. His tongue laps over your clenched hole, pleased you haven’t pulled away from him. He rewards you with a small probe of his tongue and you surprise him again by pushing back, tongue gliding into your warm cavern with little resistance.

You both moan, caught in the euphoric moment of this new experience. 

He reels his head back, spreading you wide to look at your gaping pussy — all his doing.

“Please,” you beg, greedy for his mouth. Without warning, he dives back in, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole with a new profound hunger. One of his hands comes from under and rubs at your clit. The new feeling has your legs shaking again, your hand coming around to place on top of his to ground yourself.

He pulls away, placing wet kisses alongside your thighs. “You liked that, Pix?”

“Yeah, I loved it.” You reply, looking back at him through your lashes.

“Good.” He chuckles, stomach warm from your confession, “Keep looking at the view though. Sun’s pretty today.”

The sun’s pretty every day, you think to yourself as you look at your source of light. But you turn away, obedient as you look at the rays the rest of the world relies on. 

“Gonna do something new, ‘kay?” He says, strained as he places a small kiss on one of your cheeks. He lets his teeth graze your skin, fingers digging into the meat of your ass to gain your confirmation. “Tell me if you don’t like it.”

You nod, can’t think of anything you won’t like aside from being away from Jeon Jungkook, but you’re sure to vocalize any discomfort for whatever journey he’s about to embark with you.

“Open wider for me.” He husks. You comply, feet shuffling apart as you hinge lower. 

You couldn’t predict what he wanted to try with you, certainly not anything remotely close to how he parts your ass and you feel his breath on your skin before he leans in.

You nearly cry out at the first lick over the tight ring of your asshole. There was an adjusting period, one that involved your breasts pressed hard against the window, mouth hanging open as Jungkook goes in for another lick.

It’s not unpleasant. New, like he mentioned.

“You taking in everything, P?” His finger slips over your cunt, long index finger teasing the entrance. He takes his time running his fingers between your wet folds, watching your bleary eyes struggle to stay open. It’s fine. You’ll have plenty more opportunities to see the view in the future — he’ll make sure of it.

You moan at the feeling of his finger probing the entrance of your pussy, hole clenched around nothing as he continues teasing you.

“Hm? Answer me, pretty.” His tongue teases around your taint. This time, you relax into it, even going as far as pushing back.

“Mhm,” you try, “‘s pretty.”

You have your head turned again, watching him the best you could, completely unfocused from the view beyond the massive curtain wall. A wrecked moan escapes the moment his long digit pushes into your sensitive cunt — just up to the first knuckle, nothing more. At the same moment, his tongue guides itself past the tight ring of your hole.

You don’t know what to focus on: his tongue fucking into your ass or his finger coated in your arousal as he has you plugged up on both holes simultaneously.

Jungkook’s always been an ass man, and he honors the title as he continuously dives his head between your cheeks. The finger inside your other hole stays in place, never pushing another inch until you whine and reach between your legs. Your fingers touch the top of his, pushing at them to sink deeper into your pussy.

He pushes his digit into you, the full length wrapped around your wet walls. “Do what you need to make this feel good.” He says. “Want you to feel good.”

A content sigh leaves your lips as you rub slow circles, pleasure building again in your stomach as each minute slips by. You’ve never been one to cum multiple times … unfortunately, you’re no better than a man. One and done type of girl, but the eagerness to cum again from this new experience has you motivated and greedy for more. Especially when the experience is with someone you love and care for.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum again.” You announce, pushing your ass back to his face as he continues fucking his tongue into your ass. He groans and nods, picking up the pace from behind with fervor at the mention of your orgasm.

His finger gradually speeds up, curling a little before he decides to add another finger in. 

Oh.

“This okay?” He asks as he senses a change in your demeanor at the sudden intrusion.

You whimper, body stiff and rigid during the adjustment period. The stretch has you halting before you’re rubbing feverishly against your clit, babbling and begging for him to move faster. 

Jungkook’s lucky on the thirty-fourth floor. So lucky no one’s able to hear the the sounds you make both from your mouth and wet cunt as he fucks his digits faster as requested. He curls his fingers and your legs start shaking, your hand no longer able to move as you take everything Jungkook gives from behind.

You gasp, his name falls from your lips as you let go. There’s definitely an imprint of your mouth and cheek on his glass window now, memoirs of the acts you both committed. 

The wetness grows between your legs, both holes pulsating as you finally cum around him again. Jungkook groans, letting you ride out your orgasm as you need.

He removes both his fingers and tongue from your holes and parts your ass to marvel at the mess you’ve made. The puffy ring of your ass shines with his spit, while your pussy quivers from the aftermath of your strong orgasm. He thinks about how it would be if you were stuffed full of him right now, but he’s in no rush with you. Knows there’s no time constraint to loving you right this time around. Your shirt drops from the curve of your hips and down to your knees as you stand upright, turning and pressing your back to the glass again. Jungkook stands up, fingers already in his mouth to lick up any remnants of cum. 

His arms wrap around your waist to hold you up, forehead touching yours as it’s meant to. Doesn’t go for a kiss no matter how much he wants to because he’s not sure of your aversion after where his mouth has been. But you don’t care, looping your arms over his neck and slotting your lips over his for a messy kiss, eventually reduced to small pecks.

“You okay, P?” He asks with round eyes. You nod and ask the same in a hushed whisper.

Why wouldn’t he be when he’s got all he’s ever wanted in his arms? He rubs over your back in a soothing motion, “More than okay, P.”

More kisses are shared, until Jungkook murmurs how he’s still tired and wants to go back to bed. You look at the clock and as tempted you are, you hum and shake your head. His eyes widen at your response, about to offer a quick retort, but you beat him to it.

“You said you had registration for the upcoming semester in a couple hours. Didn’t you say you needed to work on a schedule?”

He tips his head back, both grateful and upset at your memory after he mentioned it to you in passing last week. 

Still, these things can be done while in the comforts of his bed and your company. Hand enclosed in his, he tugs you back to his bedroom, no longer omitting the same warmth when you left.

But perhaps, the warmth was anywhere you were with Jungkook.

Saturn takes twenty-nine years to complete its cycle. When you turned twenty-nine, you thought your Saturn was still out there, taking their sweet time with the journey back home.

“Pixie?” 

“Coming!” You call out, finishing the last touch of your dusty-pink blush. Smoothing out your sage-green dress, you do a small once-over in your mirror before properly greeting your boyfriend. 

Your Saturn’s returned, watching you embark on your new adventure, cheering you on through your wins and losses. Jungkook smiles from the doorway, leather dress shoes placed neatly on the side. His hair is styled as he would for all the wedding events he’s gone to with you, but this was a new suit. Usually in black, the light grey suit brings out his dark features even more — boyish charms emulated with his suit jacket off and hooked on his fingers over a shoulder. The brooches on his vest glimmer on the side, adding a nice finishing touch to his wedding guest look for the evening.

He shines either way when his orbs land on your features, taking in your soft curls and dress you’ve chosen. 

“Pretty.” He’s kind enough to not kiss you, seeing you’ve just freshly applied your lipstick, but you’ve never been opposed to reapplying. You tip-toe to plant a soft kiss, not enough to transfer any product, but enough to tempt him for further damage.

“You look very handsome.” You say, hands automatically coming up to fix the angle of his tie. Spring’s weather is ever unpredictable and today’s one of the more warmer days of the week, but the temperatures rise in the small nook of your home as he stares at you.

To avoid any potential deterrence, you move behind him to get to your shoe rack. He presses his back against the wall opposite to you, watching as you crouch down to pick out a strappy nude heel.

“What if we skipped the wedding, Pix?”

You pout, blowing at the random strands of hair in your peripheral. “Your friend would be disappointed. Plus, we both got all done up. Would be a waste if we didn’t go.”

“It’s not a waste,” he replies, “can just have a night in.”

“Also would give me an excuse to get out of these dress pants.” He adds with a scowl. 

You lean away, doing a double take on the slacks he has on. You’ve always fancied a guy in dress pants and Jungkook was no exception. Loves how his thighs fill up the spaces and how his ass looks in them.

“Couple hours and we can have a night in.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I’ve got a watermelon in the fridge waiting for us.”

The wedding was standard, especially with it belonging to someone you don’t know. Technically most, if not all, weddings you’ve gone to have belonged to strangers. But there was something special about this wedding — it’s the first time you attended a wedding with Jungkook where you aren’t working.

Weddings have always felt magical; the usual string of fairy lights and flower arrangements appear even more enchanting tonight. And you realized, the enchantment started months ago at Yoongi and Hoseok’s union.

During cocktail hour, he made sure to get all your favorite finger foods without request. When the ring bearer and flower girl comes into view during the ceremony, he’s quick to move higher on his seat, letting you peer past him to get a better look at the little ones. And when he holds your waist during the reception’s dance, you know weddings are magical because the moment’s shared with him. 

“This was nice. Thanks for having me as your plus-one.” You sigh in content, cheek rested on his chest as you both slow dance to When a Man Loves a Woman. 

He snorts, lighthearted and warm. “I’m glad you enjoyed.” Meant as a sarcastic remark, he also agrees this evening was a lot nicer than he had anticipated in the month leading up to this day. 

“I really love weddings.” You mumble to yourself.

He loves weddings with you. Jungkook presses his cheek on the top of your head, “I know.”

You and Jungkook stay like this for a while through a couple slow songs until the DJ changes up the genre of the music, signaling older couples to evacuate the dance floors for the younger crowd to reminisce on an era where their knees existed for the thrill of it all.

Your bodies move in tandem: his, warming your back, and your bottom pushed against his groin with your preferred pressure, knowing you’d never go overboard at a wedding but just enough for him to have him let out a shy chuckle.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, “I really hate these dress pants, P.”

You turn your head to him, sultry expression matching his hooded lids. “Why’s that?”

“Shows everything.” He laughs through his nose, “Can’t leave here any time soon now.”

You ease up a little, facing him again while your fingers slide over the brooches resting on the left side of his chest — where his heart resides. He’d argue his heart is in his arms staring up at him.

“I’ve always loved you in dress pants.” You confess. “‘Cause that’s when we’re at weddings together.”

Considering how he leans down, pressing a small kiss to your lips where you reciprocate with another lingering kiss, maybe being in dress pants isn’t that bad.

“Have we met our quota yet, Pix?” He nudges his nose against yours.

For someone who loves weddings, you’re eager to go home, too. You want nothing more than to just spend time with Jungkook in the comforts of your home.

“Quota met.”

Sheltered by the indoor venue, you didn’t realize how humid it got outside in the time spent at the wedding. Your apartment was practically a sauna by the time you and Jungkook arrived back at your place. Opening up your windows, you have a fan running in the background to air out the space.

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly while cutting into the watermelon. Your eyes rake over Jungkook where he unbuttons his grey vest and rolls up his sleeves to reveal his tattooed arm.

He shakes his head, taking two spoons from your drawers, “It’ll cool down.”

Will it? 

Air heavy with both the atmospheric moisture and tension brewing between you and Jungkook all evening, you’re not so sure if the temperatures will drop any time soon. The watermelon center caves as you both dig with the metal spoons. You favored the center; whereas, Jungkook aimed closer to the watermelon rind. 

He peers over at you where you stand. Hair now put up by a claw clip, he counts the baby hairs sticking onto the back of your neck, momentarily forgetting to dig into the watermelon when it’s his turn. 

“Why do you only pick at the sides?” Your brows twitch, digging into the middle again and turning to him with a center piece.

He shrugs, opening his mouth on cue for you to stick your spoon into his mouth. Sure, the middle pieces were sweet, but he thinks they might be sweeter coming from you. He chews and swallows, tilting his head a little to meet your equally sticky lips.

“Sweet either way, Pix.” He wonders if the salty moisture on your skin would pair well with the sweet watermelon.

Well, one way to find out.

No longer following a script, Jungkook moves on his own accord — loving and falling freely as he likes knowing you’ll be there to catch him. He shifts his body, head dipped in the crook of your neck as he licks a thick stripe over your neck. You gasp, spoon dropping onto the counter as your hands fly to grab onto his forearms for support.

He’s right; you do bring out more sweetness.

The half eaten watermelon sits on your counter, long forgotten in the pursuit of Jungkook’s body pressed to yours. His lips slot perfectly on you, a relieved sigh escapes as your bodies move as it’s desired all evening.

He trails kisses down the column of your throat, marking a pathway on your collarbone. Fingers in his hair, your grip on him tightens as you shyly ask, “Bed?”

Knees digging onto your bed, you sit up taller to kiss your still-standing boyfriend. He’s busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt while you race to unbuckle his belt — a race no one formally declared, but it was an unspoken need. And you both needed each other … badly.

You beat him, of course. The black Calvin Klein lettering on the banding greets you first as the front opening flaps of his pants fall to the side. He whimpers as you run your hand over his bulge. 

“Can I …” Your sentence trails off as you kiss along his exposed neck.

He nods unsure of what you exactly want, but the godforsaken dress pants drop and pool at his ankles without a second thought. You kiss your way down his torso, paying extra attention to his chest. With a determined look, you stick your tongue out on his hard nipple for a tentative lick to glean at his response.

Oh, it’s good — so, so, so good. 

He shivers, hand hitting your claw clip as it flies to the back of your neck to hold you in place. Your teeth grazes over the hardened bud, a sliver of pained pleasure courses through as you bite down with a gentle force. He hisses, mouth dropping open to bite back his moans. You remedy the pain with your tongue, silently apologizing without actually feeling sorry. 

You slither lower on all fours as you take his hard cock out of its confinements. Round eyes look up at him for permission to proceed. 

There’s a slight hesitance in your actions as the last time you wanted to give him a blowjob, he made it a goal to stay protected for both your sakes. He’s always for safe sex, but he knows he’s clean and wants to feel your bare lips around him as long as you’ll allow it. You seem to share the same sentiment as you tilt your head up, eyes burning with want and ownership of his bare skin.

Still, you ask, “Do we need a condom for this?” The thin straps of your pretty evening gown cascades loosely on your shoulders.

“No, but only if you want …” Jungkook pants, a harsh exhale when you give him a gentle squeeze. The small, pleased sound you make, paired with another harder tug confirms your answer.

He releases your hair from the clip, watching it cascade down your shoulders. Bunching your hair in a messy ponytail, he uses it as an anchor as you tug on his shaft. 

“Spit on it.” He pleads, groaning when you comply. Your saliva lands on the tip, dripping over the small bead of precum on his slit. So messy how your thumb glides over his slit, mixing the fluids together. Even messier when you place a kiss on his tip, mixed fluids tainting your pretty lips. His stomach contracts, the dips and ridges of his abs are even more defined as a result.

“Missed this with you, Pix.” He melts. It’s even better than how he imagined over the course of time spent with and without you. 

“I missed you, too.” You reply, tongue darting out and wetting your lips before moving in for a small lick over the head of his cock. “I wanna take care of you.” You mumble as you press messy kisses on the underside of his cock. “Is that okay?”

His stomach warms at your sentiment, knowing it’ll never be one-sided as he’ll always do the same for you. He nods, giving you the go ahead to do as you like. The grip on your hair increases and the hand cupped underneath your chin props you upright to take him fully.

He wonders how a place like heaven could ever beat this feeling with you.

Your eyes never stray from his, watching him through your lashes and how he struggles to maintain eye contact with you. It’s only when his cock begins hitting the back of your throat, your lids flutter shut. You gag from the action, pushing past the discomfort each time to hear more of his grunts and praises. Your skin prickles each time his thumb runs across your skin to soothe your aching jaw. 

“Fuck, Pix, if we keep going like — god,” he hisses, “I’m not gonna last long.” He warns.

“Mmhp,” You try to answer even with your mouth fully stuffed. He pulls back and you whine, robbed at the opportunity of having him release all over your tongue.

“Please,” you breathe, hoarse and rough, “wanna taste you.”

Your mouth falls open again. Instead of sliding in again, Jungkook jerks over his length, fast as he needs with the visual of you on your knees so readily to be ruined.

“Baby–I, I’m gonna cum. Fuck,” He tilts his head up to the ceiling.

And when he finally cums, he does so with your name and a string of praises. The first rope of cum lands on the corner of your mouth. Without another thought, you enclose your lips around his tip. His strangled noises spurs you on in your mission to suck and milk him dry.

When he finally slips out of your mouth, the hand underneath your chin guides you up and your knees walk you close to his standing body again. You still haven’t swallowed, unsure what you want to do with the fluid resting on your tongue.

Reading your expression clearly, Jungkook bites down a smile. “You don’t have to swallow, P.” He chuckles, placing a quick peck to your tightly shut mouth, “Want me to get the waste bin?”

He runs his thumb on the corner of your mouth, catching the stray droplet before wrapping his lips around his digit. Honestly, he doesn’t care for the taste and gets your hesitancy, but you hold his gaze and shake your head no, pressing your lips to his. He groans and opens his mouth for you to slip your cum-coated tongue in.

You whimper at his large hands running up and down your backside, ultimately landing on the bottom of your swelled ass. Absolute sin and filth personified when you both exchange and swallow your mixed fluids. 

Your body aches differently for Jungkook these days. Can’t believe he’s in front of you now in your home, surrounded by everything you love.

And you love him.

“I love you.” He says, as though all your internal thoughts and feelings are tethered to him. It’s no secret, and unworthy of hiding. 

You kiss him again, pulling him down with you. He giggles and shrugs off the rest of his clothing as he hovers over you with starry eyes.

Cupping his jaw, you reply, “I love you. Want this with you.”

The relationship. The love. The experience.

His heart — it’s all yours.

The long dimples appear again, disappearing from view once he lowers his head to kiss your neck all while fumbling on the thin straps of your dress and tugging it to expose your bare breasts.

He's said this before and thinks there’s no greater truth than this, “You’re perfect.” Leaning down, he places a wet kiss on your sternum, mouthing, “so beautiful.”

You keen into his touch, back arching when he takes one nipple in his mouth. He does this for a few minutes, teasing your nipples and rotating between them with equal amounts of love and attention.

Again, the ache runs through your entire body, gathering right at your core when his teeth bites down on your sensitive nipple. Your hand detaches from his hair and makes its descent down to his crotch.

He’s only half-hard, still sensitive from his first orgasm. 

Sensing your impatience, he chuckles against your skin. “Gimme some time, P.” Eyes closing as you squeeze around his length again.

You pout, but nod nonetheless, letting go of his shaft because the last thing you want is to do the opposite of keeping him hard.

“But,” he muses, “you could help me.”

And this is how you end up as equally naked as Jungkook on your bed. You’re supported by your numerous pillows as you lay there, watching his eyes jump between your face and closed legs.

His hands are on your knees, soft as he pries them apart to reveal your soaked core. 

You instinctively move to cover your mound, suddenly feeling shy even though Jungkook has seen you bare from below multiple times. His bigger hand covers yours, pressing against it just enough for you to feel the relief it brings. 

“‘S just me, pretty.” He says, eyes never leaving yours. His words and stare makes you sling your free arm over your eyes, blocking the visual of him: kiss-swollen lips, locks no longer in its styled state, red flush on his chest — a stark difference from the dark, solid ink on one of his arms … you can’t bear to look at him in this state. 

Can’t bear him looking at you either.

“I know,” you reply, “I’m just … embarrassed.”

You can’t see him, but you’re sure he’s giving you one of those smiles. One that asks ‘What for? You’re amazing.’

You think about the sheer amount of people who have watched Jungkook — yourself included — and wonder how he isn’t shy. And because of that, you feel yourself growing braver at the thought of giving Jungkook something to watch and appreciate.

Still, you keep your forearm over your eyes, but the other hand covering your pussy nudges Jungkook’s warm hand away. You move up a little. All practiced precision in how your middle finger dips between your slit, rubbing slow circles on your swollen clit.

“Oh, fuck.” He lets out a breathy laugh. Your senses are heightened in this self-visually impaired state; his swallow is heard in the distance.

You think about whether he’s just looking at your hand on your pussy or if he’s watching your covered face — if his eyelids are hooded … if the visual of you playing with yourself is ‘helping’ him. Perhaps it’s these thoughts that also make you grow wetter in between your legs, the wet sounds reach your ears through your staggered breaths.

You feel his lips press on the top of your knee, his breathing also coming out haggard.

“Is this enough?” You whimper, wanting him to take rein of your pleasure.

“A little longer, please?” He begs. “For me?”

He moans at your compliance, noting the speed change in your fingers. The bed shifts too, he nears your body again and you feel his warm breath fanning over your fingers. Suddenly, a dribble of wetness slides on top of your digits and trickles down to the entrance of your pussy, mixing with the rest of your arousal.

The feeling has you removing your arm, finally looking down where he’s at in between your legs. A small playful smile on his lips as he sits back up in his kneeled position. He's more than ready — just wants to see more of you. 

You take note of his hard cock in his hand, a slow stroke up before he thumbs at the slit like he likes to. A twinge of pleasure hits your core again and you’re forced to rub harder circles to relieve yourself of the heavy ache building up at the sight. He laughs again, a mixture of disbelief and horniness as the pace on his cock speeds up too.

“So much better seeing this in person.” His eyes involuntarily shut as he tilts his head to the side.

Huh?

The movement of your hand pauses and so does he with widened eyes. He clears his throat, trying to find the words before you ask, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

A sheepish smile stretches across his face and instead of explaining right away, he leans over your body now. Nose against yours, he places a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asks, his hand moves yours away from your pussy and slots his cock in between your soaked folds. Meant as a distraction or to ease your worries for his next words, he finds himself breathing heavier at the feel of your bare cunt with his shaft. The head of his cock slips over with ease onto your swollen clit, twitching as he moves his cock side to side now.

“I–fuck–Pix, you’re so wet.” He drops his head to your neck.

You nod, almost distracted as well, but you bring his head back to your eye level. He swallows nervously, wrist slowing the movement with his cock. Jungkook should’ve rephrased his question to ‘promise you won’t get embarrassed,’ because shortly after he slyly recounts the details of Your Video™ popping up in your living room, you lay there surrounded in the flames of humiliation.

“So embarrassing.” You mumble, unable to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook giggles, kissing your cheek, “Hey, I liked it a lot.”

You turn your head, nose touching his now, “Did you?”

“Uh-huh, more than you’ll ever know.” His hips shift, resuming the grind on your cunt again. “But I like this more.”

His movements get you worked up again, forgetting about your mortification just moments ago. You whine, whimper, and mew into his shoulder; the ache comes and goes — reminding you need more than just this.

“Jungkook,” You gasp at the taps of his cock against your folds.

“Hm?” Eyes hooded, he watches you through his lashes, mouth dropped open when your hands run down his torso.

“Need you.” You plead, hip angled up so you can press harder against him.

“I know, I know, pretty. Just–” He shuts his eyes, “I gotta get you nice and ready for me.”

He senses your hesitancy again and he stops to stare down at you.

“I-I’ve had sex already,” You say, teeth worrying on the bottom lip and debating if you should say your next words. “With, um, Mingyu. So, we don’t have to prep.” While both unnecessary to tell him and unreasonable to feel this way, guilt courses through your body at the confession.

“Doesn’t matter to me if you’ve had sex.” Jungkook says, “I always want you to feel good and comfortable.” He kisses you, soft just like the fingers he trails at your entrance gathering your arousal.

You swallow, “Are you upset it happened with someone else?”

He blinks, head tilting in confusion, “Not something for me to get upset over, P.” Studying your face, his brows eventually relax as he asks you, “Are you upset?”

You shrug, looking to the side. “It was … whatever.” That’s all you’re willing to say about the experience and you’re sure Jungkook doesn’t want to hear about another man while he’s just about to get intimate with you. At this point, maybe he’d opt out to stopping in general, but he sighs a small hey to gain your attention.

“The experience will always be yours.” He kisses your forehead. “Nobody can take anything from you.”

You nod, eyes closing at the feel of his finger at your entrance. He keeps his lips at your forehead, feeling it furrow as he sinks one finger into your pussy. It’s a slow and leisure pump, easy to have you forgetting about the prior conversation and putting the focus back on him. Penetration has never been your thing; technically, it’s still not. But there’s some relief as Jungkook curls and massages his finger against your walls, stretching you out as he intended to. He refuses to take his eyes off yours, especially when he decides to add in another finger.

“That’s it, baby. Taking it so well.” He praises, voice cracking at the end of the sentence.

“You make me feel so good.” You sigh, eyes closing as he speeds his fingers inside you. “Always feel so safe with you.”

He curses, mentally prepared to hear your choked whine when he removes his fingers from your sopping hole. He says your name sternly, followed by a thick swallow. You hum in response, hips mindlessly chasing after any part of his body for friction. He slots his hard shaft against your wet folds again, giving you both some form of pleasure in the interim. He looks down, moaning at the sight of his cock coated with your arousal.

“Need you inside me.” Your hands hold his waist in place to stop him from grinding against your clit, head of his cock positioned at your entrance. You bubble with anticipation, wondering how he’d feel inside you.

And as much as he’d like nothing more than to finally sink inside, a small part of his lovesick brain still holds some form of logic and manages to utter, “Birth control?”

You blink, a slight falter in your response as you shake your head shamefully. There wasn’t a medical necessity for you to be on birth control before and you didn’t think far enough when it came to intimacy with Jungkook.

He chuckles, “That’s okay, P. I just wanted to check.” He hops off the bed and fishes for his wallet. Another ten seconds go before he drops his wallet onto the ground with a triumphed smile and brings up the small squared package between his fingers. The smile drops a little at the sight of your tiny pout.

Beating him to his question, you remark, “I wanted to feel you …” 

He exhales hard through his nose. Keeping the condom in between his fingers, he makes his way back to you on your bed. You both seem to fall back into position again. 

“Not sure if either of us are ready for kids, P.” The thought of having kids is scary, but weirdly … he finds the fear lessening at the thought of it with you. Seen how you reacted and smiled around children — he wonders if his future kids would have your smile. Either way, too early for these thoughts.

“Okay, okay,” You let his words simmer a little and he suddenly wants to do away with the little package in his hands when you look up at him. “You’re right.” 

He’s right, knows he is when you blink away those irrational thoughts. The same thoughts get pushed to the side when the foil packaging tears and a sweet scent fills your nostrils. This time, hints of rich chocolate and confectioned goodness. You relax back onto your mattress, watching as he positions himself between your legs.

“Do you only have flavored condoms?” You ask, impish smile lifting the awkward conversation from before.

He grins, “Someone gifted a five hundred flavored pack for my birthday last year.” Hint: it was Hoseok. “So … we’re stuck with this for now. Do you hate it? I could stop using them–”

You shake your head and his eyes soften at your answer. There’s relief in knowing it’ll always remain sweet between you and Jungkook. 

“I wanna feel you, too.” He admits as he lines himself at your entrance. He doesn’t push in just yet, watching how your hole clenches around nothing … for now. “We’ll figure something out.”

The defaulted option is to simply have you go on birth control, but that’s something to discuss and for you to decide. If need be, he isn’t too opposed to a vasectomy. You both have all the time in the world to discuss.

“Okay,” you stutter as he begins pushing the head of his covered cock in. That’s all he does for now, opting to drop onto his forearms to kiss you, praise you — love on you. You do little to hide the sting, face contorting before you let out a couple shallow breaths.

“Too much?” He asks, hips stalling and fingers brushing away your hair.

You shake your head, “Hurts a little, but,” you lift your hips a little, legs parting to accommodate Jungkook's body. “Wanna keep going.”

He doesn’t move. 

Tattooed arm dropped in between your bodies, he rubs practiced circles on your clit. You sigh in content, wiggling your hips to push more of him into you. Eyes fluttering shut, similar to how your pussy flutters and gushes around his length after every little push inside as a reward for taking more of him. He shudders and grunts deeply, mentally counting backwards from a hundred to keep himself distracted by how snug your walls feel around him.

You moan, soft and saccharine at the stretch of his full length inside you.

“You feel so good.” He husks into the shell of your ear. “Feel that, Pix?”

“Yeah …” You keen, unable to verbalize a proper response.

“You gotta tell me how you feel, ‘kay?” He lifts his head up and connects his forehead on yours, but his heavy eyes observe how your lower halves connect.

“M-mhm,” You reply, eyes shutting at the fullness below. “Can we stay like this for a bit? I-It’s … it’s a lot.”

He nods. A part of him is thankful for this pause, allowing his mind to think of other things in the meantime so this experience can be better for you. The other part is worried you’re uncomfortable. He wants to make this good for you — wants you to feel good, so it doesn’t matter how long he needs to stay still inside you. Sex could end right now and he’d be okay with it.

“Kiss me, please?” Your request comes out small, but he feels the harsh drumming of your heart against his chest. Your hands are bunched up on his nape, not relaxed how they usually are when you’re with him. 

What else could he do but comply with your wishes?

Kissing’s good — the belief he’ll die on a hill for. Kissing’s even better with you; he loves your lips, the way you lick the seam of his lips, how you sound when you’re being kissed as you deserve. Could stay like this forever with you. The heavy making out goes on for another two minutes, until he unconsciously bucks his hips which forces you to detach from his lips in a loud gasp.

He immediately searches for your face, eyes swelling with concern. “Sorry, I–”

You shake your head, thighs clamping around to hold him still before he pulls out. “‘s okay,” you reassure, “That felt good. Just, go slow.”

The pace he sets out is controlled — slow, as requested. And god, is it good. Your bed creaks with every movement, but the sounds are overshadowed by your shared breathy moans and praises only heard between each other. His fingers move swiftly over your pussy, so love drunk with your body, he feels his balls tightening — a sign of his forthcoming orgasm.

Call it selfish or greedy, he doesn’t want it to end, pulling out at the last second to delay his orgasm. Typically so well-versed in your body cues of an impending orgasm, his own dilemma clouded his judgment when you let out an involuntary frustrated cry at the loss of contact. 

Your chest stutters, stomach clenching from your heavy breaths. And although you should question why he did that, you can’t think when he guides his cock into your warm cunt once more.

“You were gonna make me cum again, pretty.” He lets out a breathy laugh, hips resuming its pace.

You whine, “Was gonna cum, too.” You look down where he fucks his thick length into you. He makes up for the accidental edging by rocking his hips faster into you, fingers once again finding home on your clit forces a high pitched squeal from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Yeah? I’m sorry.” He truly is. Your pleasure’s always his top priority — you’re his priority. 

“You deserve to cum.” His fingers flatten on your mound, and the wet squelching sounds increase with the fastened movements. “Give it to me, pretty.”

So sensitive and lost in the pleasure, you gasp and arch your body into his, eyes slamming shut at the onset waves of pleasure building below. 

“Jung–” Couldn’t finish your sentence before you’re squeezing tightly around him. He doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, but he stills himself in you, giving you a couple hard pumps while you ride out your sudden orgasm.

He doesn’t think he ever wants to forget this feeling. 

Finally letting off your clit and pushing himself up again, Jungkook marvels at the thin sheen of sweat in between your chest and the white ring of cum coated at the base of his cock where the condom doesn’t fully reach.

“Please, need you to cum inside me.” You beg.

He can’t, not with the condom on, but the sentiment makes him act like he doesn’t have one on. Parting your thighs wider, he thrusts in slowly, mindful of your oversensitivity. The ring of cum builds and thickens at the base, transferring some of your arousal over his pubic bone in a messy haze. Alas, the visual combination of your chest moving in tandem with his thrusts, your scrunched brows, and hand on his stomach was enough for him to release once more. 

Though, the final blow came from your soft declarations of love while you tell him how good he makes you feel.

“Baby,” He manages, hands dropping your thighs, his front also comes down onto your chest as he lazily pumps inside of you with his cum-filled condom. The pleasure continues in the form of your fingers raking up and down his back, drawing shapes and patterns of love.

You know things will always remain sweet between you and Jungkook — like the giggles, doting questions, and soothing hands as he brings you to the shower. It’s not the hot water you feel on your skin, but Jungkook’s tender kisses and embrace forever etched on your body.

“P, sit still, won’t you?” Jungkook stands behind the tripod, angling the camera.

“You ever consider modeling? You’re a natural.” You say as you sift through the album on the tablet. You’re doing everything to avoid Jungkook’s latest assignment in class. Sure, it’ll be a good headshot update for your business card and website, but you weren’t keen on having your picture taken. It was always better behind the camera.

He rolls his eyes, gentle smile on his lips as he walks over. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me. You promised you’d be my model for this semester.”

“Camera shy.” You pout. “You know that.”

“I know.” Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll teach you.” Leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

The thing with teaching is that he inadvertently learns as well. Knows it’s also the same for you too. Skills refined, new ideologies unlocked, and discoveries waiting to be explored. He no longer follows a script anymore — no longer feels like he’s boxed in … life is forever limitless as long as he makes it to be.

A shutter goes off from behind capturing the two of you in the frame.

fin.

ending a/n: beta’d by @takeitawaykenny who sat thru my ridiculousness but also entertained it. prologue wouldn’t have existed without her, yall … she rly was brain behind rkivedshots' beginnings on god love u bookie ;__; and @lovieku who’s been nothing but supportive and rode thru my (many) moments of doubt. she was the angel i needed on my shoulder during the makings of my first series and helped shape so much of itf!! couldn't have done this without your guys unwavering love and support!! oceans of gratitude to my two champions 😭🫂

🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

alas, thank YOU all for joining me on this fun ride. i hope you guys got something out of this whether it be a chuckle, life lesson, or soiled panties, i’m lucky yall stuck with me. to my lovelies who have been here since the beginning and cuties we picked up along the way: i appreciate your trust, patience, and overall enthusiasm for this series — you’re my dream!! i told yall i’d guide us to my desired ending with so much love and care. ain’t no way this couple wasn’t gonna be end game … i just had to make the journey difficult. oop. anyway call me #aftercarequeen 💅

with that said … epilogue? send your thanks to lovieku for convincing me bahaha it won’t come any time soon cuz i have other things i wanna work on, but do not fear … i have something planned!

in the meantime, feel free to send in your reaccs/thoughts for our lovely itf!couple. i’m here for ya just as you’ve been here with me xoxo ♡

“What do you think?” you ask him, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

He turns his head left and right to look at his hair, nibbling on his bottom lip, as if gathering his thoughts before he gives you an answer.

“Damn, okay. When you said ‘braids,’ this isn’t what I thought you meant. I love it, noona,” he says, giving you that signature, eye-crinkling smile.

“Yeah?” you ask, exhaling a breath of relief at his approval.

Jimin nods excitedly. “Yeah.”

You release him from your work station then, cleaning up your hair tools now that your job is done.

During each outfit change of the concert, you check on Jimin’s hair, securing and restyling braids as they come loose, ensuring his hair stays as neat as possible.

He sits perfectly still, always the cooperative client, as you redo a single braid that’s now falling into his face.

“Pretty hyped tonight, huh?” you ask with a soft laugh.

He starts to nod, his head tipping forward, causing him to let out a quiet hiss as he accidentally tugs at the braid in your hand, a sharp sting coursing through his scalp.

“Sorry–”

“Shit–”

You both speak at the same time, your hand instinctively releasing the braid.

“You okay?” you ask him then.

Jimin can’t help but chuckle then.

“All good, noona. Can you fix my hair now?”

You just smile, going back to redoing the braid you were working on.

There’s a minute of silence between you two, the chaos of backstage fading as everyone starts to take their places to go back on stage for the last part of the concert.

“I am hyped tonight,” Jimin says then, answering your question that was so rudely interrupted by you pulling his hair, “I’m really feeling myself tonight.”

You smile at him in the mirror as you finish fixing his hair.

“Good. See you after,” you say with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders, stepping back to let him go.

Jimin stands from your chair, glancing around before he leans in, his breath ghosting your ear.

“I’d rather be feeling you, though,” he murmurs, and he turns to go back on stage without so much as another glance your way.

-

The absolute whirlwind that is backstage post-concert is nothing you aren’t used to. Even as a hair stylist, you, and everyone else, are expected to help with the cleanup to make sure the dressing and styling rooms are left impeccably clean. That is BTS’ reputation, after all: the perfect guests at every stadium or venue they perform at, leaving nothing dirty or disorganized when they leave for the night. It’s something the whole staff has always prided themselves on, ensuring the group maintains their perfect image, ever the respectable idols.

As you pack your things and head toward the staff buses with everyone else, Jimin falls into step beside you at the back of the group.

“Come celebrate with me,” he murmurs quietly.

You glance at him, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Celebrate what?” you ask him.

He shrugs.

“Told you. I’m really feeling myself tonight. Come have a drink with me.”

Your voice lowers, not wanting anyone to hear the conversation.

“Jimin.. you sure that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs again, his hands in his jeans pocket.

“No one has to find out, noona. C’mon, it’s just me. I’ll have some champagne delivered to my room and we can hang there. No pressure.”

You can’t help but sigh slightly then.

“Yeah– okay. But if anyone finds out…”

Jimin holds out his pinky finger then, automatically moving to intertwine his finger with yours.

“They won’t. It’s perfectly safe.”

He falls out of step with you then, disappearing down the long hallway to your right, catching up with the other members while you continue walking toward the staff buses.

-

Back at the hotel, you change out of your staff clothes, then rummage through the casual clothes you brought with you for this leg of the tour. You aren’t sure if Jimin’s actually going to follow through with inviting you to hang out, and you really don’t know how casual to dress if he does.

Your phone vibrates, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Jimin: room 3903.

That’s it? you think, expecting more in his message than just telling you where to go.

Jimin: i’m in sweats. don’t worry about how to dress, noona.

Typical, you think, always knows.

You pull on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, an oversized hoodie over it, and slip on your sneakers. Grabbing your phone and room key, you slip out of your room and move quickly down the hall.

The members and staff have this entire floor booked, the tour having so many people working to keep it flowing flawlessly that you always take up a whole floor in every city you go to. You really hope no one leaves their room while you’re out here, because you don’t have a clue what your excuse would be at this point.

Your eyes track each room as you pass, wandering down the hall until you reach Jimin’s room. Your knuckles tap softly on the door, shifting from one foot to the other as you wait.

“Get inside before someone sees you,” Jimin says with a chuckle as the door opens, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he tugs you into his room.

Inside his room, you can’t help but glance around and let out a small laugh as you take in his massive suite compared to your standard room.

“Damn. Really feeling that tax bracket difference,” you say then.

Jimin rolls his eyes, looking sassy as ever.

“Perks of working our asses off for fifteen years. They gotta keep us happy,” he says sarcastically.

He makes his way over to the kitchen area, popping open a bottle of champagne that probably costs more than your monthly salary, and pours two glasses.

“None of the others wanted to drink with you tonight?” you ask curiously as he hands you a glass.

He shrugs. He seems to be doing that a lot tonight.

“I didn’t ask.”

He sips his champagne, hand waving in front of you to encourage you to do the same.

You take a sip too, the sweet, bubbly taste exploding on your tongue.

That’s when you notice something interesting.

“You didn’t take the braids out,” you point out.

His eyes sparkle with his smile as he walks back toward the sitting area.

“They look good. Made me feel good,” he says, plopping down on the couch.

You follow him, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

“The fans seemed to love them, too,” you say with a soft chuckle.

Jimin looks at you then, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Did you?” he asks.

“Hm?”

He sips his champagne again, throat bobbing as he swallows.

“Did you love the braids, noona?” he clarifies.

It’s your turn to shrug then.

“They look good on you. I wouldn’t have done them if I didn’t think they would,” you say.

Jimin shifts on the couch, closing some of the distance between you two. He brings his left leg up on the cushion, sitting more casually.

“You made me feel really confident tonight,” he continues, his Busan satoori coming out a bit with his casual demeanor.

You can’t help but laugh softly.

“That’s what I’m here for. Making sure you feel confident enough to go on stage and be happy with how you look.”

You sip your champagne again before setting the glass down on the coffee table.

Jimin’s gaze follows your movement, his hand moving to set his own glass down.

He swallows, jaw working as he considers his next words.

“You’ve been doing my hair since debut,” he says then, “and you always make sure I’m happy with it before you let me go on stage.”

Your brow furrows in confusion.

“Well, yeah— of course I do. I might be the stylist, but it’s you that has to be okay with how you look.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Not all stylists feel that way. Some think it’s their vision, and the idol just has to live with it.”

Jimin shifts a little closer to you on the couch, leaving only a foot of space between you now.

“You actually care,” he continues, “you want to make me feel good.”

You rest your elbow on the back of the couch, turning to face him a bit more.

“I do,” you say simply.

That mischievous glint in Jimin’s eyes shines a little brighter now.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he rasps, his Busan satoori bleeding into every word now.

“Hm?” you ask, confused.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk then.

“You asked me to trust you earlier,” he says, “can you do the same for me now?”

Your body tenses slightly as Jimin closes the remaining distance between you two on the couch, his thigh pressing against yours now.

His arm snakes around your shoulders then, hand coming up to cup the side of your neck. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, making your head turn instinctively toward him.

“Jimin—,” you start then, meeting his gaze.

“Trust me, noona,” he breathes, his face inching toward yours.

He nudges at your jaw then, his breath ghosting your neck as his nose trails slowly along your jawline.

“Can I?” he murmurs, the slight vibration of his voice hitting your neck, “can I make you feel good this time?”

You shiver slightly, the heat of his breath making your skin tingle.

“Jimin— is that a good idea?” you whisper.

He chuckles softly against your neck then, his lips brushing against your skin.

“You’re always so collected, noona. So put together, worried about everything,” he murmurs.

You laugh a bit nervously, unsure what to say.

“Can’t you stop worrying about if something’s a good idea, and just think about how good it would feel to let go?” he continues.

His lips press a barely-there kiss to the spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.

“Just trust me,” he repeats.

You pull back, looking at him. You definitely thought he was fucking with you, but the look of pure want in his eyes tells you how wrong you were.

“Okay—,” you say quietly then, “yeah. I trust you.”

You barely get the last word out before Jimin surges forward, claiming your mouth in a desperate, sensual kiss. His hand grips the side of your neck more firmly, holding you in place.

You kiss him back, lips following his lead as he deepens it. It’s all teeth, tongue, and heat, him licking into your mouth like he’s been dying to do it for longer than he’s let on.

Your hand moves to his stomach, fisting into his t-shirt as you keep him close. You feel his free hand wrap around your hip, his fingers gripping right at your waist.

“Taste like the champagne,” he breathes against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip, eliciting a soft catch of your breath.

His hand at your waist tugs you forward, putting you on his lap. He gently positions your thighs so you’re straddling him, his hand sliding to the small of your back then, pressing firmly to slide you closer so your chest presses to his.

“Don’t stop now,” he breathes, looking up at you, “I know you want this as badly as I do.”

Your free arm drapes onto the couch cushion behind him, fingers threading into the back of his hair as you claim his lips this time.

Jimin’s hips buck up against you slightly, a soft hiss following the movement as he kisses you.

The kiss gets more intense, your earlier hesitation fading into confidence. Your tongue meets his, sloppy and inhibited. You pull his lower lip between yours, sucking lightly.

“Ah— shit, noona. Please,” he breathes.

That makes you pause. “Please?” you murmur against his lips, pulling back just a bit to look at him.

He tugs at the hem of your hoodie then, his eyes half-lidded as he nods. “Yeah, please. Wanna see.”

You strip your hoodie and t-shirt off in one motion, tossing it on the floor haphazardly.

Jimin’s eyes darken slightly, taking in your black bra, the tops of your breasts spilling over the edge of the cups. His hand immediately slides up your back to the clasp, stilling there.

“Okay if I take this off?” he asks, eyes searching yours.

“How else are you gonna see?” you ask, a small smirk of your own crossing your lips now.

Jimin flicks his fingers quickly, deftly undoing the clasp and moving both hands to the straps at your shoulders, pulling them down to fully reveal your breasts to him.

A low groan leaves Jimin’s lips then, his hands sliding to your front and stopping at your ribs. His thumbs brush the underside of your breasts, eyes meeting yours again.

“Can I?” he asks, ever the king of consent.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

His hands cup your breasts, squeezing and massaging them, his thumbs occasionally brushing or circling over the nipple. He shifts forward, his lips pressing to the hollow of your shoulder above your collarbone.

Jimin trails hot, wet kisses along the path of the bone, his tongue darting out to lick at your skin.

“Thirteen years,” he breathes against your collarbone, “thirteen years of being too fucking professional with you to ever want this.”

He sucks the skin lightly, leaving a tiny red mark that’ll fade by morning.

“But not tonight. Tonight— tonight you gave me the confidence to ask for what I want,” he finishes.

Your breath hitches, hips rolling against him as his lips reach the sensitive skin of your throat.

You tug at his t-shirt then, wanting him to be as bare as you.

“Lemme see you now,” you say quietly.

Jimin chuckles, his eyes glinting with that signature sparkle as he pulls his shirt off and tosses it somewhere on the floor.

“God— Jimin, what the fuck?” you ask, a soft scoff leaving your lips.

He gives you that cheeky smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he shrugs.

“Been in the gym a lot with Yoongi-hyung and Jungkookie,” he says casually, as if there’s nothing impressive about his newly formed, nearly-washboard abs.

“I see this,” you say, rolling your eyes.

He takes one of your hands, dragging it down his chest and abdomen.

“Touch me too, noona,” he whispers then, “want you to want me, too.”

Your hips roll against him again, his words sending a jolt through you.

Jimin groans more audibly then, his hips bucking up to meet yours.

“Fuck,” he exhales, “don’t stop.”

You lean down and capture his lips again, one hand resting at his lower stomach, your thumb brushing along the sensitive skin there while your other hand holds the back of his neck.

He kisses you back, more sensual than before, his tongue dragging against yours as he lets out a soft moan into your mouth.

He squeezes your thigh gently, slowly working his way higher up your leg as he kisses you more. At the top of your thigh, his thumb brushes the inner part, and he breaks the kiss, keeping his mouth close against yours as he speaks.

“Can I touch you more?” he murmurs.

You nod against his lips, sliding your ass further up his lap, causing his thumb to press against your clothed core.

Jimin takes the hint, his thumb pressing firmly and rubbing circles over your clit through your leggings, making you gasp.

His soft, short laugh comes out against your lips.

“Pretty noise, noona. Can you make more for me?” he teases gently, his thumb circling a bit faster.

He moves quickly then, shifting his position, flipping you onto your back on the couch and kneeling between your thighs.

“Need these off,” he says, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings, waiting, as always, for your consent.

Instead of saying anything, you lift your hips. His hands pull at your leggings, dragging them and your panties down your thighs. He gently pulls one foot and then the other out of the material, tossing the rest of your clothes onto the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, his hands resting on the outsides of your thighs as he leans down to press his lips against the inside of your knee, “gonna make you come for me.”

His lips follow a path up your inner thigh then, his mouth wet and hot against your skin, hands parting your thighs as he settles on his belly between them.

His kisses get sloppier, more urgent, more tongue, the higher up he goes, and your breaths come shallower, quicker, as your body responds to the anticipation.

“Jimin— what are you doing?” you whine softly.

He chuckles against your skin, nibbling it gently.

“Teasing. Or showing you what to expect when I get my tongue on your pussy,” he says, “you decide.”

A jolt of desire courses through you at his words. He notices, because, always so attentive with everyone, of course he does.

“You’re thinking about it, huh? About how good it’ll feel to have my tongue between your legs?” he teases.

You whine softly again.

“Fuck— yeah, I’m thinking about it,” you admit.

He chuckles again, his tongue dragging down your inner thigh until he stops, his face hovering just above your core.

“Stop thinking then.”

His eyes meet yours from between your legs, and his tongue drags a long, slow path from your entrance up to your clit, stopping there and tracing firm, target circles around the sensitive bud.

You can’t stop the moan falling from your lips, your hips squirming as his tongue continues its torturous circles.

“The walls aren’t soundproofed, noona,” Jimin chuckles against your pussy, making you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds.

When he sees your hand covering your mouth, he licks faster, his tongue circling your clit, the pattern only broken when he dips lower, tasting your arousal before returning to that sensitive spot.

You moan into your hand again, pressing harder to make sure the sound doesn’t travel.

He buries his tongue deeper, alternating between fast and slow strokes, experimenting to learn what makes you moan and tremble the most.

You squirm more, his hand coming up to rest over your lower stomach to keep you still. His free hand trails up your thigh, two fingers pressing against your entrance before they slide inside you.

You gasp, the added stimulation only fueling your pleasure.

Jimin huffs a soft laugh against your pussy again, crooking his fingers upwards in search of your sweet spot.

His tongue works tirelessly, never slowing as his fingers work until they press against your g-spot.

You whimper into your palm, thighs shaking as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. You uncover your mouth briefly to whimper quietly.

“Jimin— fuck, there. So close.”

He speeds up his licks, tongue lapping at your clit in tandem with his fingers thrusting directly into your g-spot.

You feel your climax build rapidly, clamping your hand down over your mouth again just as the coil in your lower stomach snaps.

You moan out into your palm, wave after wave of pleasure ripping through you. Jimin doesn’t stop, simply slowing his movements to push you through your orgasm.

He only lets up when you wince quietly from oversensitivity, pulling his mouth off your pussy and slipping his fingers out of you gently. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean of your juices before wiping his mouth on his upper arm.

“Good?” he chuckles quietly, meeting your eyes.

Your breathing is still too unsteady to speak, so you just lift your hand to give him a thumbs up and a weak smile. He sits up then, never looking away from you.

His eyes sparkle as he smiles back at you, holding his hand out to help you sit up too.

“You’re cute when you’re fucked out like this,” he comments, making you glare at him. But there’s no heat in your gaze, your eyes dropping to the obvious erection tenting his sweatpants.

Your breathing finally settles enough to talk without pausing between words.

“Off,” you say simply, your hand pulling at the fabric of his pants.

Jimin looks at you one more time for confirmation before sliding his sweatpants and boxers off, settling back on the couch in the same spot you started.

Without hesitation, you climb back into his lap, straddling him. Your wetness brushes his cock as you settle, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.

“You’re sure?” he breathes, “because I really wanna fuck you.. but don’t feel like you owe me for what I just did.”

You roll your hips on his lap, grinding your still-dripping pussy against him in response.

“I’m sure,” you whisper, “wanna ride you.”

He groans, the sound low in his throat as you position yourself with his cock pressed to your tight hole.

“Then— fuck, then please, do it,” he murmurs, voice cracking slightly.

You sink down onto his cock then, walls stretching around him to accommodate his size. He’s thick, making the movement slower than you would’ve liked, but after a moment, you settle on his thighs, his cock buried completely inside you.

“Shit—,” he hisses through his teeth, hips instinctively bucking up, his cock hitting deeper with the movement.

You gasp, the pressure against your g-spot intense as his cock hits it just right from this angle.

Jimin’s hands settle on your hips, thumbs gently stroking your skin as he looks up at you.

“Move for me, baby,” he breathes, his hands pressing upwards to lift you.

Your arms wrap around his neck, lips meeting his in a heated kiss as you lift yourself, grinding down on his cock, forcing a low moan from his throat.

He kisses you back, the kiss slow and lazy as his hands work to help guide your rhythm. Your breasts press against his chest, hips rolling as you repeatedly bounce on him.

The room fills with the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy, his low moans and your quiet whimpers.

“That’s it,” he breathes, “fuck— pull my hair, noona.”

Your rhythm breaks slightly as you process his request.

“Please—,” he continues, “not hard. Just— tug it. Like you did when you were doing my hair earlier. When I moved and you accidentally pulled it. Felt good.”

You kiss him again, regaining your bearings, and ride him more deliberately then. Your hand slides into the back of his hair, fingers threading into it at his scalp, and tug lightly.

The sound that escapes his lips can only be described as a desperate whimper, quiet and needy.

“Shit— yes. Please, more,” he breathes.

You break the kiss, tugging his hair a little more firmly to tip his head back, your lips pressing to his throat. He groans at the sensation of your mouth on his skin and the pulling of his hair, his hips bucking up to meet your every move.

His fingers press into your hips, leaving indentations on your skin, soft grunts and deep, low moans punctuating every thrust up into your pussy.

“Noona— gonna come. Where—,” he starts, his question cut off when you suck lightly at the base of his throat, your fingers tightening in his hair.

The sting of the harder tug pulls another needy whimper from him, his hips thrusting up hard.

“In me,” you breathe against his throat.

He groans deeply, his hips thrusting up once, twice, three more times before they still, stuttering against you as he spills inside you.

“Fuck,” he moans, “you— fuck.”

You slow your hips, rolling them slowly to draw out every drop of his release, continuing until his hands pull you down to stop you from moving anymore.

The room is quiet now save for panting breaths from both of you. Jimin’s arms wrap around your waist then, his eyes opening to meet yours. His thumbs brush the skin of your lower back, not saying anything at first.

After a few slightly awkward moments, he finally speaks.

“Well— that was.. that was fucking incredible,” he chuckles nervously.

You chuckle too then, nodding. “It was.”

He lets out a slow breath, the awkwardness fading as you both realize things are still okay between you two.

“I really don’t wanna kick you out,” he says quietly then, “but— we’re already pushing it with you even being here.”

You shake your head slightly then, a small smile crossing your face.

“I know. I’ll go,” you say, understanding.

Jimin leans forward then, pressing a few quick, tender kisses to your lips, his lips curving upward in a smile of his own.

“Not mad at me?” he asks.

You shake your head again.

“No. Not mad. I’ll be— so fucking fired if anyone ever finds out about this,” you respond.

His smile fades slightly, but it’s not in sadness, just gentle understanding.

“You won’t be. I’d take the blame, have them cover it up. I told you, it’s perfectly safe. You’re perfectly safe with me,” he says quietly.

You nod, pressing a kiss of your own to his lips before you finally pull yourself off his lap.

The two of you dress quickly, and Jimin stands, facing you. His hand reaches up to smooth over your hair, making sure it doesn’t look too messy before you go in case you’re seen.

You take one last look at each before you finally step away.

At the door, you turn back and give him a small smirk.

“Next time you’re feeling yourself again…” you trail off.

Jimin’s eyebrow raises, curious.

“Come feel me instead.”

Jimin can’t help but laugh at your words, giving you that characteristic eye-crinkling smile.

“Yeah,” he says, “I will, noona.”

With that, you slip out of his room, making your way back down the hallway toward your own room.

Just as you’re about to open your own door, you hear a clearing of someone’s throat from behind you.

You freeze, heart rate picking up as you turn slowly to face the owner of the sound.

Looking up, you’re met with the man who made the sound, instantly knowing he definitely either saw you leaving Jimin’s room, or worse, heard you from inside.

“Namjoon,” you say quietly, “it’s not—.”

“The walls aren’t soundproofed, noona,” he cuts you off, “be more careful next time, unless you want the whole floor to hear you,” he says simply.

You let out an anxious breath, nodding slowly.

“I won’t say anything. But I can’t say the same for the rest of the staff,” he continues.

You fidget with your room key, still anxious under Namjoon’s gaze.

“Go to bed before someone else finds you out here,” he finishes, giving you a small, dimpled smile before he disappears into his own room.

You turn back quickly, unlocking your door and rushing inside. You press your back against the door, exhaling shakily.

Fuck.

Namjoon knows you just slept with Jimin. You trust him to keep his word and not tell anyone, but if he heard you.. who else did?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Jimin: told you, noona. you’re safe with me.

You breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s tinged with residual anxiety, knowing Namjoon probably talked to Jimin too, based on his text.

Jimin: just gotta be more quiet next time.

Jimin: hope there is a next time.

You smile softly to yourself, reading his messages as they come through.

You: there will be.

You put your phone away, getting ready for bed. The anxiety fades eventually. You curl into your sheets, staring at the dark ceiling above you as you get lost in your own thoughts.

You just slept with Jimin. An idol who, all things considered, could be labeled as completely untouchable. Shouldn’t be accessible, especially not to you. The one who’s been with him since the group’s debut, traveling the world, at every performance and event, simply styling his hair. Making sure he looked good, felt good. And it shouldn’t have happened at all, but it did. 

You keep replaying the night in your head. How he touched you, the way he asked over and over for your consent. The way it seemed like you’d done this a thousand times before, when neither of you have ever even attempted to cross that line. None of it makes sense. Shouldn’t it have been a little awkward? Shouldn’t there have been more fumbling, more learning each other? Shouldn’t there have been a little more hesitation?

You shake your head, hoping to clear your mind. What’s done is done, and you can’t take it back now that it’s happened. You start to drift off to sleep, your brain slowly shutting off for the night.

But there’s one specific thought that you can’t seem to shake from your mind.

The thought makes your brain buzz, your mind replaying his request, every sound that fell from his lips as he responded to you.

Jimin has a hair-pulling kink.

And you were the one to find that out.

So now, you wonder..

A few seats away at first, there was a man in dark slacks and a button-up rolled casually at the sleeves. He looked older than most of the crowd, more composed. When his eyes met yours, it wasn’t accidental. He didn’t rush to look away. Instead, his gaze drifted, unapologetic but controlled, lingering at your figure before lifting back to your eyes.

Your stomach flipped.

After a moment, he shifted closer, stopping just beside the empty stool next to you.

“Would you mind if I joined you for a drink?” he said, eyes flicking to the seat and then back to you. It sounded less like a question and more like an invitation. His voice was more captivating than you would’ve expected, with a warm and sinfully smooth tone to it. 

You shook your head, suddenly very aware of how warm your cheeks felt. “Go ahead.”

He sat, his knee angling just slightly toward yours. Close enough that you noticed. Close enough that it felt intentional.

“First time here?” he asked, glancing at your drink.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Needed something to calm my nerves.”

“Oh?” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Dangerous place to come for that.”

“Tomorrow’s my first day at a new job,” you said, taking another sip. The alcohol buzzed a little stronger now, making you braver. “I figured one drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“Usually doesn’t,” he said, his gaze lingering on you instead of the room. His eyes dipped to the open neckline of your dress. He leaned in just enough that you could smell his cologne, a luxurious scent, if you had to describe it. “You know, that dress,” he murmured, voice deepening, “...it’s very distracting.”

“Distracting, huh?” you teased softly. “That’s not exactly what I expected from someone like you.”

He tilted his head slightly. “I’m—” he paused, like he was deciding whether to give you the real thing or a half-truth, then smirked again, “—Yoongi, by the way.”

You smiled, fingers curling lightly around your glass. “Y/N,” you said, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He repeated it once, slower, like he wanted to feel how it sounded. “Y/N.” His forearm stayed where it was, warm and steady against yours. “Nice to finally put a name to the distraction.”

“Could say the same about you,” you replied, biting your lips without even noticing. 

“I’m not much of a dancer,” he murmured after a moment, his voice softer now, closer. “But I’ll admit… I’d much rather get out of here with you than stay where everyone can see.”

You laughed quietly, but didn’t pull back. “You’re very confident for someone who just met me.”

His fingers slid closer, just barely grazing the side of your hand. “Can’t blame a guy for knowing what he wants.”

The music swelled, and for a second the world narrowed to the space between you. When he leaned in, he met your eyes, as if to ask for permission. You nodded lightly, breaths feeling heavier than they were seconds ago. Before you knew it, his lips pressed lightly against yours, a testing kiss. His hand rested at your waist, warm and possessive without being rough. The two of you thoroughly explored one another’s mouths, the kiss remaining slow and gentle. 

He pulled back once the two of you ran breathless, taking a second to admire your appearance before leaning back in again. 

The scent of alcohol was unmistakable—whiskey on his breath, wine on yours—mingling in a way that made your head feel pleasantly light. The kiss wasn’t careful this time. It was messier, slower to line up, your lips brushing clumsily before finding each other properly.

You kissed him like you’d had just enough to forget yourself. A little sloppy, a little eager. Your balance tilted toward him, and he steadied you without breaking the kiss, fingers tightening just slightly at your hip. He tasted like alcohol and something darker underneath, and you could tell you tasted the same to him by the way he exhaled softly through his nose, like he enjoyed it.

The kiss deepened, as the desperation of the two of you took over. His mouth moved against yours with confidence, letting you lead for a second, letting your intoxicated enthusiasm set the pace before he responded. His thumb traced a slow, absent-minded line along your jawline, grounding you while everything else felt pleasantly blurred.

When he finally pulled back, it was only enough to speak, his lips brushing yours as he did.

“I’m not really a PDA kind of guy,” he murmured, voice low, eyes dark as they flicked briefly to your mouth again. “But I’d really like to show you just how good you’re making me feel.”

His hands hovered at your waist as he leaned in close, forehead nearly touching yours.

“My place isn’t far,” he added quietly. “Easy walk.”

The way he said it was calm and controlled, like it was already decided, and it made your stomach flutter. The bar suddenly felt louder, brighter, and less important. All you could focus on was the warmth of his hand, the lingering taste of alcohol and him on your lips, and the fact that saying yes felt far too easy.

You barely remembered finishing your drink. One moment you were still tasting the lingering sweetness on your tongue, the next his hand was guiding you off the bar stool. The noise of the bar felt distant now, muffled by the warmth humming through your body and the way his attention never left you.

He paid quickly, fingers brushing yours as he did, and that small touch felt heavier than it should have. When you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your flushed skin, making you laugh softly as you swayed just a bit. He noticed immediately, his hand settling at your lower back, grounding you like it was instinct.

“Careful,” he murmured, amused, fond. “You’re a little unsteady.”

“So are you,” you teased back, glancing up at him. His eyes crinkled slightly at that, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

The walk to his place was quiet but the tension was loud. The city lights blurred pleasantly, footsteps syncing as you moved side by side. Every now and then your arm brushed his, or your fingers caught on his sleeve, and neither of you pulled away. The alcohol made everything softer, slower, like the night was stretching just for the two of you.

After a bit more walking, the two of you had finally arrived at his place. 

The lobby was quiet, immaculate. Soft lighting, marble floors, the kind of space that smelled clean and expensive. You suddenly felt very aware of your skimpy dress, of how tipsy you still were, of how wildly out of place you probably looked standing beside him. And yet, his hand stayed warm and steady at your back, like you belonged there.

The elevator ride was silent but heavy. You caught your reflection in the mirrored wall, seeing your flushed cheeks, slightly mussed hair, and eyes that were a little unfocused from alcohol and anticipation. Then you glanced at him with his tailored coat and relaxed posture. You couldn’t really believe you were actually doing this, but you really needed some easing for your nerves. 

The door barely clicked shut before he turned on you, his movements a blur of controlled aggression. He shoved you back against the wood, the impact vibrating through your spine, and pinned your arm high above your head. You thrived on the roughness of his grip; it was a physical manifestation of the restraint he was finally losing.

The kiss wasn't a request—it was a claim. It was fiercer, hungrier, and more invasive than before. When his mouth crashed against yours, it wasn't just a meeting of lips; it was a collision. He used his tongue to force your mouth open, slick and authoritative, demanding total entry.

He didn't just kiss you; he devoured you. You felt the wet slide of his tongue against yours, a rhythmic, deep-reaching intrusion that made your knees weaken. He caught your tongue with his own, pulling it into his mouth to suck on it with a low, primal groan that you felt in your chest more than you heard.

The air between you vanished. His hand at your waist bruised, pulling your hips flush against his, while the other remained braced like a vice beside your head. Every time he broke the seal of the kiss, it was only to lick a path across your bottom lip before diving back in, his tongue sweeping against the roof of your mouth in a way that felt dominant and utterly possessive. He was tasting you, marking you, his desperation vibrating through the heavy, wood-scented air of the room.

He broke the kiss with a wet, lingering sound, his forehead resting against yours for a heartbeat before he tilted his head back. He looked you up and down, a smug, low chuckle vibrating in his chest.

"Look at you," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, thick with the satisfaction of being the one who wrecked your composure. "Hardly catching your breath, and I’ve barely even started with you."

He gently took your hand and led you down the hallway. The alcohol made everything feel softer, dreamlike, your steps slightly unsteady as you followed him. When he opened the bedroom door, you paused again.

It was just as refined with its large bed, crisp linens, low lighting that cast everything in cozy shadows. The room felt intimate without even trying to be. Private. 

He turned to face you then, finally, fully. His gaze drifted over you seductively, taking in your dress, the way it clung to you, the deep dip at your neckline. His eyes darkened just a little and it sent chills through your body.

“Finally,” he said quietly, stepping closer as his presence filled the space between you, “I have the pretty lady all to myself.”

His fingers trailed down your arm, the subtle touch getting your body worked up in ways you didn’t even know were possible. You felt feral, almost. 

“Why don’t we…” he added, voice low and teasing, “get that pretty dress off you now?”

He walked toward you, his movements fluid yet powerful. His fingers found the strap of your dress, and with agonizing slowness, he slipped it down over your shoulder, then the other. The fabric whispered against your skin as it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it, leaving you in nothing but your lingerie. He took a step back, his eyes sweeping over you in appreciation.

“Well now,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Aren’t you a surprise.”

You were wearing a matching set of deep burgundy lace. The bra was a balconette style, lifting your breasts and offering them up, the delicate floral pattern of the lace contrasting beautifully against your skin. Thin straps sat on your shoulders, and a small, pretty bow sat nestled between the cups. The panties were high-waisted, the same intricate lace covering the front, scalloped along the edges, with a small satin ribbon tied in a bow at one hip. They were more elegant than anything you’d usually wear, a secret layer of confidence you’d chosen just for yourself.

His gaze dropped to the lace between your legs, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. “Those panties,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “They’re almost as pretty as the girl wearing them.” He knew exactly what he was doing, and the sheer, arrogant certainty in his voice made you want to pull him back in just as much as it made you tremble.

He closed the distance again, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb rested gently on your cheek, tilting your face up until your eyes met his. “Look at me,” he commanded firmly. Then his lips were on yours. He pulled you flush against him with a force that made your head spin, and you melted into it, a soft moan escaping your throat as you reveled in his dominance.

As he kissed you, he stepped into your space, forcing your legs apart with the weight of his own. He drove his knee upward, wedging it high and hard between your thighs until the fabric of his suit trousers pressed directly against the burgundy lace of your panties.

A muffled cry broke against his lips as he began to rock his leg in a slow, agonizingly deliberate circle. The friction was electric as the rough wool of his slacks against the thin, delicate lace of your crotch created a heat and wetness that made your head spin. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you steady as he forced you to grind against him.

He was using his knee to stoke the fire he’d started, his movements authoritative and unyielding. You arched into him, your hands clutching his shoulders as the friction sent waves of unbearable tension through your lower body. Every time you tried to speed up the pace, he’d growl into the kiss, his knee providing a heavy, constant pressure that made you feel utterly conquered.

His hands finally slid past the swell of your hips, his palms hot against your skin, before trailing lower to catch the curve of your ass. He squeezed the firm flesh with a bruising strength, molding you against his frame, before he suddenly pulled back just enough to deliver a sharp spank.

The sound of the impact cracked through the quiet of the room, and the sting sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core. You gasped into his mouth, your body bucking instinctively against him, your fingers gripping tightly onto the muscles of his back.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he chuckled against your lips with a low, dark vibration that felt like a purr of pure satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he felt you tremble. "I thought you might like that," he whispered, his voice thick with the thrill of your reaction. "Do you want another, or are you going to behave?"

It was at this point that he’d finally decided to break the seal of your mouths. His chest was heaving, his gaze dropping to where his leg was buried between yours.

“The bed,” he rasped, the command leaving no room for argument.

He began to walk you backward, guiding your stumbling steps toward the large bed. The backs of your knees hit the edge, and he gently lowered you down onto the crisp sheets, his body hovering over yours, caging you in. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his chest heaving slightly. Then, with a sense of urgency, he rid himself of his clothes. His blazer and shirt were discarded in a heap on the floor, followed by his slacks, leaving him in just a pair of black boxer briefs that did little to hide the hard ridge of his arousal.

While he was undressing, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall away. Your breasts spilled free, your nipples pebbling in the cool air. You moved to take off your panties, but he stopped you, his fingers hooking into the delicate lace at your hips.

“Allow me,” he murmured, his eyes glued to your core as he slowly, torturously, pulled them down your legs and tossed them aside. His gaze was intense and hungry and you’d just wanted him to devour every bit of you already.

The thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers was surely no help either. A surge of boldness suddenly washed over you as you sat up to allow your hand to reach out and palm him through the cotton. He groaned, his hips twitching into your touch.

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. You knelt before him, pulling his boxers down. His cock was finally fully visible to you, wet and hard. 

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, feeling his velvety skin over the steel-hard length. You leaned in, sticking out your tongue to swirl it around the flushed head. A deep groan rumbled in his chest. You began to stroke him, your hand moving in long, slow pulls from base to tip while your tongue continued to explore, lapping at the sensitive slit. You loved the sounds he made, the way his breath hitched with every flick of your tongue.

You got sloppy with it, letting your saliva coat his length until it was dripping, the wet sounds filling the room. He seemed to love it, his fingers tangling in your hair. You shifted, taking more of him into your mouth, sucking him deep as your hands moved down to gently massage his balls.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “You’re so good at that.”

After a moment, he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Look at me,” he panted.

When your eyes met his, they were dark with lust.

“You want to gag on my cock?” You weren’t expecting the raw, filthy question, but it didn’t make you want it any less. “I want to see my cock stuffed in that pretty face of yours. Could you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, the word a desperate, enthusiastic plea. “God, yes.”

He helped you reposition, settling you more comfortably on your knees. He placed a hand on the back of your head, his other hand gripping his shaft to guide it to your lips.

“Open up,” he commanded.

You did, and he began to thrust into your mouth. He started slow, letting you get used to the rhythm, but it wasn’t long before he was chasing his own pleasure. You could feel his cock exploring the walls of your throat with each thrust, going deeper and deeper. Your gag reflex prickled, and you choked slightly, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. He pulled back immediately, giving you a moment to breathe whenever necessary. 

“Again?” he asked, his voice rough.

You nodded, eager, and he slid back in, picking up the pace once more. You could taste the salty precum on your tongue with every thrust.

After what felt like an eternity of the delicious, rough face-fucking, he pulled you up, his mouth crashing against yours in a messy, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on him as he pushed you back onto the bed, his body covering yours. He kissed his way down your body, over your breasts, your stomach, until he was settled between your thighs. He didn’t touch you right away, teasing you with kisses on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Then, without warning, he gave your clit a long, hard, pressured lick.

You yelped, your back arching off the bed at the sudden, intense feeling of pleasure. He did it again, and again, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched whines and moans that spilled from your lips. The feeling was overwhelming, a dizzying spiral of sensation. He switched to sucking, drawing your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it. It was another level of pleasure entirely. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you tried to guide his movements, desperate for more.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned against you.

While he was lost in you, you felt his cock twitch against your leg, and a sudden, desperate need to ride him took over. You pushed at his shoulders, and he got the message, rolling onto his back. You straddled him, a satisfied, predatory grin spreading across his face. His hands immediately found your hips, gripping you tight.

You sank down onto his cock, the stretch a perfect, burning pleasure. He helped you find a rhythm, lifting you and slamming you back down onto his length. The feeling of his strong hands gripping your sides and ass, controlling your movements, was intoxicating. You took over, setting a punishing pace, rolling your hips and grinding down on him. He met you thrust for thrust, his hips bucking up to meet yours, driving himself deeper and deeper inside you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans, his groans, and the slap of skin against skin.

It was a desperate race toward the edge, and when you finally fell forward, your orgasm crashed through you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. He followed you moments later with a loud, guttural groan, his own release pulsing deep inside you.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you panting and slick with sweat. You two laid there for a while after, the frantic energy slowly ebbing away into a warm, sated glow. The alcohol haze was fading, replaced by a pleasant exhaustion. You shifted, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, and your eyes widened.

“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to sit up. “I have to go. It’s way later than I thought.” You’d finally pushed yourself up off the bed, slowly gathering your clothes that were all in different locations of the room. 

“Stay,” he rasped, the command softened by the gravel in his voice. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of your spine. “The bed is finally warm.”

“I wish I could,” you admitted, gripping your burgundy lace panties from the floor. 

He watched you dress with hooded eyes, a look that made you feel like you were still under his thumb even as you hooked your bra. He moved with a slow grace to gather his own clothes, the comfortable silence between you charged with the memory of what had just happened.

“Don’t think I’m letting you disappear,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He didn’t ask but simply held it out, waiting for you to bridge the gap.

You recited your number, and a second later, your phone vibrated on the nightstand.

He walked you to the door, but he didn't just let you walk out. He caught your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he tapped at his screen. “I’m calling you a car. I’m not having you wandering around this late.”

When the headlights cut through the darkness outside, he turned you in his arms.

“I’ll be in touch,” he murmured, his voice low and certain. “And next time, you aren't leaving the bed until I say so.”

He stepped back just enough to let you breathe, but his gaze remained locked on yours until the car door clicked shut. As the cab pulled away, you watched his silhouette in the rearview mirror, standing under the glow of the streetlamp with his hands in his pockets.

The city blurred past the window, a smear of neon and shadow that felt light-years away from the room you had just left. Your skin felt hypersensitive, the friction of your clothes a constant reminder of the way he’d handled you. Every time the car hit a bump, you felt the faint, throbbing ache between your thighs. You touched your bottom lip and it was swollen, sensitive to the slightest graze of your finger.

The short drive ended quietly, the soft click of your apartment door sealing the night behind you. The lingering scent of his cologne and the ghost of his touch clung to you like a second skin. 

A soft, shaky sigh escaped your lips. Your head was still a tad bit fuzzy from the drinks, a gentle haze that softened the edges of reality and made the memory of his hands on your hips and his tongue in your mouth feel more like a fever dream than a Tuesday night.

Your phone buzzed, the vibration rattling through your hand and cutting through the quiet of the entryway. You didn't even have to look to know it was him. A single, weighted sentence stared back at you:

“I can still taste you.”

A slow, involuntary smile spread across your face. You toed off your heels, the relief immediate, and padded toward your bedroom, your fingers already flying across the keyboard. “Really? And what exactly do I taste like?” you typed back, the honesty of it sending a fresh thrill through you.

His reply was instantaneous. “Actually, I’m starting to forget. I think I need you to come back here so I can make sure.” You paused, your thumb hovering over the screen as a slow, secret smile spread across your face. 

You dropped your phone on the bed and began to undress, the sleek fabric of your clothes feeling like a costume you were finally done with. The bathroom filled with steam as you turned on the shower, the warmth acting as a welcome embrace against your sensitive skin.

“Gonna shower then head to bed,” you texted, setting the phone on the counter. You paused, biting your lip before adding, “Need to be a professional, functioning human for at least eight hours.” The reply came through while you were unhooking your bra, the chime sharp against the bathroom tile.

“Is that right?” he shot back. “You’re going to sit in a boardroom and pretend you didn’t just get railed the night before?”

He was playing with you, marking his territory from miles away.

You stepped under the hot spray, the water cascading over your body, washing away the lingering stickiness of the club and the heat of the car. On a sudden, wicked impulse, you grabbed your phone with a damp hand. The screen fogged slightly as you snapped a picture—just your chest, covered in a thick layer of white soap. You hit send before you could second-guess yourself.

His response didn’t take long. “Fuck.” 

The single word was heavy, loaded with unspoken desire. You finished your shower quickly, the air outside feeling cool against your heated skin. You toweled off and slipped into something soft and comfortable, an oversized t-shirt that barely covered your thighs, and slid between the cool sheets of your bed.

You kept your phone in your hand, your fingers brushing idly over the screen as his texts lingered in your mind, the phantom weight of his body still pressed against yours. The alcohol haze was settling, but your mind was wide awake, replaying every moment.

Finally, you typed a simple: “Goodnight.”

His reply came a moment later, a simple, “Same goes to you, sexy thing.” 

You set the phone down on the nightstand, a slow smile on your lips as you closed your eyes, his last message a sweet, thrilling lullaby.

Morning came too fast. Your head ached, the dull throb of the hangover making your temples tight. You groaned, tugging your hair back, and realized you were already running late. First day at a new job, and your body reminded you that last night’s indulgence had consequences.

You moved quickly, throwing on a professional outfit that felt both sharp and safe. It was fitted enough to look put together, but simple. Your makeup was light, applied in a rush, and you styled your hair just enough to look presentable. You caught your reflection and nearly laughed, patting your hair again and adding a touch more makeup to disguise how tired you really were.

With your water bottle in hand and your bag over your shoulder, you stepped into the day. Your pulse was still high from the night before, and a quiet thrill lingered under the dull headache. First day. New job.

The elevator dinged, and you stepped out into the office lobby, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. The building smelled faintly of coffee and polished wood. The environment was professional, but definitely a little intimidating. You tugged your blazer a little straighter, trying to ignore the throb behind your eyes. You thought the feeling would’ve been long gone by now but the alcohol from last night still made a distant appearance in the back of your head.

“You must be Y/N. Welcome.” A receptionist smiled at you, clipboard in hand. “We’re just about ready to get you settled.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to look composed. Your legs felt unsteady in your heels as you followed her down the corridor, ears picking up the faint hum of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and quiet murmurs of colleagues already at work. Each sound felt sharper, somehow louder, through the fog in your head.

“This way,” she said, leading you to a small office area. “You’ll start with a bit of orientation, then we’ll get you familiar with the system. Oh, and here’s your workstation.” She gestured to a sleek desk with a polished surface, a computer already booted up, and a chair that adjusted too smoothly. “You can get settled here, there’s some training modules we’ll just have you do for today. I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.” 

You nodded, trying to appear the part of the capable new hire. 

With a final, encouraging smile, she turned and headed back toward the lobby. You took a seat, the chair adjusting with a smooth, expensive hiss that made you feel small in the minimalist space. The office was clean and modern and there was a subtle sophistication to everything, but you couldn’t tell if it was the neutral color palette or the quiet efficiency of the layout. You smoothed the front of your blouse over your chest and took a deep breath. 

Your hands hovered over the keyboard, shoulders tense, fingers useless as your thoughts drifted back to the blurry events of last night, despite your best efforts. It had been a while since you’d let yourself fall into something so reckless, so fleeting—a one-night stand type meeting with no expectations and no promises. You hated how much it took over your thoughts, but you couldn’t help it. It left you wanting more, even now, but you exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away. 

You straightened, finally pressing your fingers to the keys and pulling yourself back to work. You weren’t going to let a single night of poor decisions ruin your first day.

For the next hour, you actually managed to sink into the flow. You navigated through the software orientation with a sharp, practiced focus, clicking through the security protocols and taking diligent notes in a leather-bound notebook. The rhythmic clack-clack of the keyboard became a mantra, grounding you. You answered a few introductory emails from the HR team and organized your digital workspace, your movements efficient and professional. Aside from the occasional, faint stir of silk against your skin, you had successfully pushed last night into a neat little box at the back of your mind. You were a professional, and you were proving it.

It wasn’t long before a movement in your peripheral caught your attention. A man was walking down the aisle of desks, a familiar stride that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t expect. And then your brain finally caught up. Yoongi.

Your heart did a little double take. The same dark hair, the same smirk, and the same casual confidence. He was right here. In the office. Your new job. What was he doing here? 

You froze, cheeks heating, and quickly looked down at your keyboard like the screen could shield you from recognition. He noticed you immediately, eyebrows quirking as his gaze slid over you. A small, near-silent chuckle escaped his lips before he continued to the desk beside you, acting perfectly nonchalant. 

Your phone buzzed, and you didn’t need to even look to know who it was.

“Nice seeing you here. If I didn’t know what a dirty girl you really are, I’d totally believe that innocent, businesslike act of yours.”

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, the sting helping to ground you as a furious blush stained your cheeks. Dirty? You glanced over discreetly; he was already at his desk, his fingers moving with a lazy, practiced rhythm over his keyboard, but the glint in his dark eyes was unmistakable. He was enjoying the chaos he’d just dropped into your lap.

You tried to refocus on the modules, but the words on the screen were just a blur of black and white. You reached for your coffee, the warm ceramic of the mug acting as an anchor for your trembling hands. Every shadow that moved in the corner of your eye made you jump, your heart hammering against your ribs.

And then, you felt him.

He was walking past your workstation again, his pace agonizingly slow, as if he were savoring the way your posture went rigid the moment he drew near. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Your hand jerked instinctively, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the mug.

“Careful now,” he warned, his voice a low, playful rumble just behind your ear. You jumped, a small gasp escaping your lips before you could choke it back. He leaned down just a fraction closer as he passed, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Don’t want you spilling coffee on yourself… can’t have you soaking wet on your first day can we?”

He let the words linger in the air as a deliberate, wet promise, before he straightened. You managed a shaky, breathless laugh, trying to hide your flustered heartbeat behind the mug. “I... I’m fine,” you muttered, your knuckles white as you gripped the coffee.

In your haste to look busy, your hand brushed against a silver pen resting on the edge of the polished desk. It rolled, clicking softly against the wood before dropping off the side. Without thinking, you ducked down to retrieve it, leaning forward and reaching toward the floor.

The movement caused the deep neckline of your blouse to fall away from your skin.

From his vantage point, standing right over you, the view was unobstructed. You realized it the second you looked up, pen in hand, that he wasn’t looking at your face. He was staring straight down into the dip of your shirt, his eyes dark and fixed on the soft swell of your breasts.

The air in the cubicle felt like it had been set on fire. You straightened up quickly, clutching the pen, but the damage was done. He smirked, a slow, predatory curve of his lips that told you he’d memorized every inch of what he just saw.

He leaned in one last time, his voice dropping to a whisper that was for your ears only. “And is that view just for me?”

He didn't wait for an answer. He straightened his tie and kept walking, leaving you breathless and gripping your pen so hard the metal bit into your palm.

Your eyes darted back to the screen, trying to finish the modules to the best of your ability, despite the difficulty of such a simple task. Every clack of your keyboard felt loud and every reminder of his presence seemed amplified. Your mind was a riot of the absurd realization that Yoongi, your mysterious flirt from last night, was right here, mere feet from you, acting as if nothing was happening at all.

Your mind betrayed you, flashing to the naughty images from last night. With him on top of you, that smirk as he hovered close, and the way his hands moved over you, how could you get any of this work done? 

You eventually snapped yourself back to reality, taking a slow, steadying breath before letting your fingers glide over the keyboard with a little more confidence.

It seemed Yoongi was finally giving you some space, leaving you alone to work without any more teasing interruptions, for now. The faint buzz of the office and the hum of computers became your rhythm, and slowly, you started to fall back into the task at hand, though a tiny part of your mind remained painfully aware of his presence nearby, just in case he decided to strike again.

It wasn’t long before you glanced at the clock and realized it was just about time for lunch. Grabbing your bag, you made your way toward the break room. The small kitchen area smelled faintly of reheated meals and coffee, the vibrations of the refrigerator acting as a background to your thoughts.

You popped open the lid of the instant ramen you’d brought along with you and heated it up before taking it over to one of the tables. You settled in, letting the steam from the noodles warm your hands, hoping the routine act of eating would help ground you after the morning’s… distractions.

You were just about to take your first bite when you sensed a presence beside you.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Your heart lurched. You glanced up. Of course. It was him. Yoongi. Leaning casually, that effortless confidence in his posture, eyes dark and knowing. Your cheeks heated immediately and you nodded before you could stop yourself.

No one else was in the break room yet, and suddenly the air felt thick between you. He sat, close enough that you felt your breaths get shorter and heavier. How could he get you like this? 

“You’re such a tease,” you murmured, the words coming out as a soft, breathless confession.

“Only because I like seeing you struggle.” he countered.  He leaned in just a fraction closer, his shoulder brushing against yours “You’re so cute when you’re a horny mess.”

Your eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath betraying you. You looked around frantically, praying no one was rounding the corner to hear him dismantle your composure so easily.

Trying to regain some scrap of dignity, you jabbed your fork into the noodles. “So… you didn’t get lunch yet?” you asked, your voice higher than usual.

He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. He nodded toward the small bag of snacks he’d tossed on the table, but the look in his eyes said something entirely different. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his smirk widening. “My lunch is sitting right next to me.”

The blatant innuendo was frustratingly effective at getting you worked up. You tried to feign annoyance, tapping your chopsticks against the rim of the bowl. “Persistent, aren’t you?” “Hungry,” he corrected, the word vibrating with a double meaning that made your hand shake.

He shrugged with a mock innocence that didn't reach his eyes. You couldn’t deny it—you thrived on this. Every whisper and every lingering glance made the desire coil tighter in your stomach. You’d been aching for him since you woke up, and his relentless teasing was only feeding the desperation.

You hadn’t realized just how dangerously close you’d leaned into his space until the heavy thud of footsteps broke the spell. Your stomach dropped as a coworker, Kai, strolled into the breakroom. His eyes landed on Yoongi immediately, then flickered to you with a friendly, unsuspecting curiosity.

“Hey, Yoongi,” Kai called out, leaning casually against the counter. “Did you tell her about the barbecue tonight?”

The invisible heat between you and Yoongi was so thick you were sure Kai could see it. In a sudden, panicked rush, you scooted your chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the linoleum. You buried your face in your ramen, pretending to be deeply fascinated by a stray noodle. Totally not suspicious, you thought, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Kai didn’t seem to notice. He grinned at you, eyes bright with the typical excitement of an office social. “It’s a tradition! Everyone shows up, the food is great. You should definitely come, it’s the best way to meet the team.”

He gave a quick thumbs-up and headed back out, his footsteps fading down the hall.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with the residual electricity of Kai almost catching you. Yoongi didn’t move back. Instead, he watched you with that familiar, ruinous smirk.

“He’s right. You should be there,” Yoongi said, his voice dropping back into that low, gravelly register that made the rest of the room disappear. “I’m planning on staying late. And I have a very specific set of ideas for how we’re going to spend your ‘after-hours’ orientation. I'd hate for you to miss it.”

You noticed the subtle inflection in his tone, the way his words carried a hint of promise beyond just a night out. You glanced at him, trying to mask the flutter in your stomach, and he caught it immediately, obvious from his facial expression. 

“Okay,” you whispered, the word feeling small against the weight of his attention. “I’ll be there.”

He chuckled, a short, dark sound of victory. “Good girl. I’ll see you tonight. Try to keep your head in the files until then.”

The day dragged on, the hours stretching longer than you expected, though at least the work itself wasn’t unbearable. You found yourself stealing glances at Yoongi now and then, resisting the urge to check your phone for another message or a sly comment. He was at his desk, pretending to type, but you caught the cheeky grin that never seemed to fully leave his lips when he thought no one was looking.

When the clock finally released you, the office cleared out in a blur of small talk. You gathered your things, your hands finally steady enough to pack your bag. As you passed his desk, he didn't even look up from his screen, but his voice reached you.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said quietly, only enough for you to hear. 

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “See you then.”

The bus ride home was a blur of anticipation. The thought of being around him again and this time outside of the office, made your pulse thrum a little faster. This was especially enticing when considering the events that occurred between the two of you the night before. 

At home, you started rifling through your closet, searching for something that was nice but not too over the top. You settled on a fitted silk blouse in a deep, midnight blue and a skirt that skimmed your thighs just right. You spent a little too much time on your hair, letting the curls fall loosely over your shoulders, and finished with a swipe of gloss that made your lips look bitten and plush. You looked in the mirror, took a steadying breath, and told your racing heart to behave.

The restaurant was a chaotic mix of savory smoke, cold beer, and the loud, boisterous laughter of people finally off the clock. You stepped through the door, scanning the crowded tables until your eyes locked onto his.

The place was lively as you arrived, laughter and conversation spilling out from the restaurant where the barbecue was in full swing. The smell of grilled and marinated meat hit you instantly, mingling with the faint tang of alcohol. Your heart beat a little faster when you spotted Yoongi seated at the table, casually leaning back as he surveyed the crowd. Around him, coworkers laughed and clinked glasses, but his focus found you immediately.

“Glad you came,” he said as you approached, his voice cutting through the surrounding chatter. He didn't stand, but he reached out, his fingers briefly ghosting over the side of your waist as he gestured toward the empty chair beside him.

You made your way over, trying to appear casual.

You sat, and almost immediately, the "professional" distance you’d tried to maintain collapsed. His arm brushed yours as he reached for a plate. You went rigid, your breath catching in your throat, and you knew by the way his jaw tightened that he felt the exact moment you faltered.

He didn't stop there. Under the shelter of the heavy tablecloth, his hand slid onto your thigh. His palm was warm, his grip firm. He didn't move at first; he just let the weight of his hand settle there, marking you while he casually joined a conversation about quarterly projections.

“Yoongi…” you murmured, the name escaping you as a faint, desperate breath.

“Mm?” He didn't even look at you. He leaned in just enough for his shoulder to pin yours, his voice a low, vibration intended for your ears alone. “Something wrong?”

His fingers began a slow, torturous climb. He traced the seam of your skirt, his thumb dipping just beneath the hem to graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The sensation was a lightning strike of heat that settled directly between your legs.

You were losing it. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, and the polite chatter of your coworkers sounded like it was coming from miles away. You couldn't sit there and pretend to be a "new hire" for one more second while he was dismantling you under the table.

“Excuse me,” you managed, standing abruptly. The chair legs shrieked against the floor, drawing a few curious glances from the table. You didn't wait to explain so you just turned and moved toward the restrooms, your legs weak. 

The cool air of the restroom did nothing to dampen the fire he’d started. You leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection as your eyes were blown wide, your cheeks a frantic, deep pink.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. It was him:

“On a scale of 1–5, how ruined are those panties right now? I’m gonna bet on 5 ;)"

You let out a frustrated breath, leaning your forehead toward the mirror. You felt the undeniable, heavy dampness between your thighs signaling he was absolutely right.

You splashed cold water on your face, took three deep breaths to steady your pulse, and walked back out. You found him exactly where you left him, leaning back with a glass in his hand. He didn't say a word as you sat down, but his slow, teasing smirk said it all. 

The rest of the barbecue felt like a blur of polite nods and shallow conversation. As predicted, once the managers began to settle their tabs and head for the exits, the atmosphere shifted. The "performance" was over. 

Once everyone was ready to get going, you followed the group down the dimly lit street. Yoongi trailed just behind you, his presence a physical weight at your back. He wasn’t touching you yet, but he was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, marking his territory in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You sure you can keep up?” he murmured, cutting through the city noise. “It’s a long night. I’d hate for you to get overwhelmed before we even get started.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “I’ll manage,” you replied, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

His smirk deepened, sharp and knowing under the amber glow of the streetlights. “Good. Because I don't plan on letting you out of my sight tonight.” You bit your lip, trying to suppress the rush that bloomed wherever he touched.

The club was a sensory assault. The moment the heavy doors opened, the bass rolled through your chest like a heartbeat, and the air turned thick with the scent of expensive alcohols and crowded skin.

Yoongi didn't hesitate. He stepped up behind you, his hand finding the small of your back. And it wasn't a gentle guide. It was a firm, possessive grip that pulled you flush against him as he wove through the chaos of a crowd. Every time a stranger got too close, his hand tightened, his fingers splaying across your spine as if to remind the room exactly who you belonged to.

He navigated you toward a darker corner, the neon lights flashing in rhythmic bursts that made his eyes glisten amidst the lights. He leaned in, his chest pressing into your back, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“You’re struggling,” he murmured. He leaned in until his lips were hovering against your cheek. “I think you’ve had enough of playing nice for the cameras. We could walk out that door right now and no one would even notice. Is that what you want?”

Your pulse spiked as you nodded. “Yes… please,” you breathed, the word barely above a whisper. “I want to get out of here.”

He didn't just smile—he smirked with the triumph of a man who knew he’d won. His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers hooking into the hem of your skirt and pulling the fabric just an inch higher. He didn't move his hand any further and simply allowed it to rest there. His thumb traced the sensitive skin of your inner leg while you stood in the middle of the crowd, trapped between his body and the music.

As a group of people surged past, he used the momentum to press you against him. You could feel the hard line of his frame and the rhythm of the club’s bass vibrating through both of your chests at once. 

“Come on. I’m tired of sharing the view.”

The transition was jarring. One moment you were in a world of neon and sweat, and the next, you were stepping into the sharp, biting chill of the night air. The heavy bass faded into a muffled hum behind you as he took your hand. He pulled you along, his strides long and purposeful as he navigated toward the darker side streets where the streetlights were sparse.

By the time you reached his car, the city felt like it had disappeared. He unlocked it and held the door open, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadows.

“Get in,” he ordered, his gaze sweeping over you one last time before you slid into the shadows of the back seat. 

The door clicked shut as he followed you inside, sealing out the rest of the world. The car was silent, smelling of his cologne and expensive leather. With him occupying the seat beside you, the space felt impossibly small. 

He looked at you—not with the "work Yoongi" smirk, but with the raw, hungry gaze of the man who had pinned you to the door the night before.

You moved without hesitation, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. The fabric of your skirt bunched up around your thighs, exposing more skin to the cool leather of the seats. His hands were instantly on you, one gripping your hip, the other sliding up your back to press you closer.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips before capturing them in a hungry, desperate kiss. 

The kiss was a collision that was hungry, desperate, and entirely devoid of the "professional" restraint he’d worn all day. His tongue was a hot, confident intrusion that made your head spin, and you met him with equal fervor, your fingers tangling into the dark hair at the nape of his neck.

His hands moved with a brutal purpose, mapping the curves he’d been eyeing from across the office. One hand slid down to find the swell of your ass, gripping it tightly as he held you closely against him. The distance was so close that you could feel the heavy, pulsing hardness of him through his dress slacks, a silent demand that made your stomach flip.

“Need to see you,” he let out a jagged growl.

He didn't fumble. His fingers worked the buttons of your blouse with a surprising speed until the silk fell open. He moved to the clasp of your bra, the metal giving out with a sharp click that echoed in the quiet cabin of the car. As the lace fell away, your breasts were finally exposed. He cupped them with his hands, fondling them in soft circles.

He groaned before burying his face between them. His chin scraped deliciously against your sensitive skin as he pressed kisses to the valley between your breasts. His hands came up to hold them, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you were arching into his touch with a soft moan.

“Yoongi,” you gasped, your head hitting the window as his mouth closed around one peak. Your hips rolled instinctively, seeking friction against the hard ridge of his cock still trapped in his pants.

“Like that?” he murmured against your damp skin, before switching his focus to the other breast. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven't you? Sitting at that desk, wondering exactly how my mouth would feel on you.”

His words sparked a reckless fire in you. Reaching down, you tried to slide your hand beneath the hem of your skirt to find your slick folds, but he intercepted your wrist with a firm, sudden grip.

“Patience,” he chuckled, though his voice was laced with restraint.

But savoring seemed to be the last thing on his mind as his hands slid down to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He tugged them down as far as he could in this position, his knuckles brushing against your wet folds. You gasped at the contact, your body already humming with anticipation.

But his "savoring" was far from gentle. Two fingers dipped under your skirt and into the waistband of your lace panties before dragging them down in one swift motion. His fingers pressed against your wetness and you couldn’t seem to contain yourself. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, sliding a finger through your slickness with a slow, agonizing confidence. “Already so wet for me. You were telling the truth after all, weren’t you?”

You could only nod, words failing you as his thumb found your clit, rubbing circles that made your vision blur with pleasure. Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you rode his hand, chasing the building pressure.

“Please,” you finally managed to gasp out. “I need you inside me now.”

With a dark groan of agreement, he fumbled with his belt, the metallic click sounding deafening in the quiet car. He freed himself—thick, hot, and already glistening—and you didn't wait. You shifted, straddling him in the cramped darkness, your knees pressing into the leather on either side of his hips.

You sank down slowly, the stretch so intense it made your head roll back. You took him inch by inch, your body tight and welcoming, until you were fully seated. The air in the car was thick, the windows already beginning to fog over, sealing you both into a private, humid world.

His eyes were dark with lust as he watched you, lips parted as soft pants escaped him. “God, look at you,” he murmured, reaching up to cup your breasts. “Riding me like you were made for it.”

The praise was like fuel. You increased the pace, your movements turning frantic as you bounced against him, the cabin of the car filling with the raw, rhythmic sounds of the encounter—the slick slap of skin, the heavy creak of the leather, and the tangled sounds of your breathing.

His hands guided your movements, sometimes urging you faster, other times pulling you down harder onto him. When he leaned forward to capture a nipple in his mouth again, you cried out, the dual sensations pushing you closer to the edge.

“Yoongi, I—”

“I know,” he cut in, voice strained. “Let go for me. Want to feel you come around my cock.”

His words combined with a particularly well-angled thrust sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you, waves of pleasure making your body convulse as you cried out his name. He kept thrusting up into you, forcing you to feel every vibration of your climax until you finally collapsed against his chest, panting and boneless.

“Perfect,” he murmured, kissing your temple as you caught your breath. “Absolutely perfect.”

But he wasn’t done with you yet. With surprising strength, he adjusted your position, lifting you slightly before flipping you so your back was pressed against the door and he was hovering over you. The new angle allowed him to thrust deeper, and you gasped as he drove back into you, this time with a passion that told you he was close.

“Where do you want it?” he demanded, his voice ragged. “Tell me where it goes.”

“Inside,” you breathed, your legs locking around his waist to pull him closer. “Please, Yoongi. Inside.”

With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep one last time, his body going rigid as he filled you. You felt the pulses of his release deep inside, reaching even your sensitized nerves. You clung to him, your fingers resting against his shoulders until he eventually sunk his weight onto you.

For several minutes, neither of you moved. The world outside the fogged windows had ceased to exist. The scent of him was everywhere and it dark, masculine, and intoxicating.

Finally, the tension in his muscles eased. He shifted, pulling back just enough to look at you before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“That was a good start,” he mumbled. He reached out, his fingers beginning to idly toy with a stray lock of your hair. “But I don't think eight hours of wanting you is out of my system yet.”

You were about to answer and tell him exactly how much you wanted that second round, when a sudden burst of laughter cut through the quiet of the street.

Your heart stopped.

Through the fogged side window, a group of people was spilling out of the club’s side exit, their voices loud and fueled by adrenaline. You froze as you recognized a familiar tone—Kai. “I’m telling you, she probably just went home,” Kai’s voice drifted through the glass, closer than you ever wanted it to be. “New hires always flake out early. But Yoongi? That man is a ghost. He probably disappeared to close some deal or find a quieter bar.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. You were half-dressed, tangled in the back seat with the man they were looking for, hidden only by a thin layer of condensation on the glass. One curious glance, one hand wiping away the steam, and your career would be over before it started.

Yoongi didn't panic. He didn't even flinch. He simply went still, his eyes locking onto yours with a terrifyingly calm intensity. He placed a single finger over his lips as a silent command for you to stay absolutely quiet.

The footsteps lingered. A shadow fell across the fogged window as someone leaned momentarily against the car's frame to light a cigarette. The car rocked slightly under the weight. You held your breath until your lungs burned, your eyes wide as you stared at Yoongi’s silhouette in the dark.

Finally, the voices began to fade. “Come on, the after-party is two blocks away. Let’s go.”

Yoongi stayed close for a moment longer, his eyes tracing the wreckage he’d made of your blouse before he finally pulled back and shifted into the driver's seat.

“Suddenly, the thought of my shower after a long night sounds awfully appealing,” he said, his voice a low velvet. “Care to join?”

masterlist

“-I’m just saying it’s bad enough I have to see you on stage like that…but then you go live and basically act like a drunken slut for the entire Army?” You stomp around the hotel room as Jungkook watches on in amusement from the king sized bed.

“Jagiyaaa I was letting off a little steam after the show…I was frustrated you weren’t here with me if that helps.” He slides up behind you, grabbing your waste and tries to pull you against him. You pull away, still frustrated after seeing all of the comments and edits thirsting over your boyfriend after his half naked live on Weverse. You head over to your suitcase to find something to wear, eager to go out and “let off some steam” yourself.

Jungkook sighs and sits back on the bed, watching your every movement. Letting himself fall backwards against the plush quilt once you enter the bathroom and shut the door behind you. He lays there as he hears the shower running, wondering what he could do to make it up to you. But also wondering why it was so bad that he dressed the way he did last night? It’s not like Army hasn’t seen him shirtless before. It’s not like they haven’t seen him drunk before.

He decides you’re overreacting and he’s going to tell you so when you get out of the shower. He lays there for a while longer before he realises the showers been off for some time. He hears you rummaging around your makeup bag, assuming you’re just doing your night routine he hops up to grab his own pyjamas.

With his back turned to the bathroom door, you step out. Eager to go out and see what the nightlife was like in Madrid and enjoy some drinks.

Still rummaging through his suitcases back turned to you, he starts pleading his case. “Baby I need to be honest with you, I think you’re getting upset over nothing. Army have seen me like that heaps, I don’t see what the big de—.” He cuts himself off as he looks up at the floor to ceiling mirror, conveniently placed behind the bed, and finally sees what was taking you so long.

Jungkook drinks in every inch of you as you walk over to observe yourself in the mirror. Standing right by Jungkook’s crouched figure. The black silk mini dress drapes over the curve of your hips and barely covers your ass. The back almost completely bare, only connected by one thin strap. Your legs looking endless thanks to the weapon-like heels on your feet. Your nipples taut against the fabric, the bars on your piercings far too evident against the silk for his liking.

“You’re not wearing this out Jagiya.” He runs his hand up your leg slowly, causing a shiver to run through you. You step away from him, not letting him charm his way out of this one.

“Like hell I’m not. I look good and if you can flash your chest for 50,000 people on the internet, why can’t I show a little leg at the club?” You cross your arms, staring at him with a raised brow thinking you’ve won.

“It’s not just a little leg, baby. One wrong move and you’re going to be showing everyone what’s mine.” He rises slowly and stalks towards you, causing you to inch back slowly until your legs hit the side of the bed. His tall frame and broad shoulders making you feel even smaller than you already were, even with the heels on your feet. “You know I don’t like sharing jagiya,” he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, “and if you walk out of here in this dress, you’re going to have every man in Madrid falling at your feet.”

“Oh so it’s fine for you to have the entirety of Madrid falling at yours?” You huff and attempt to pull away from him, but his grip on your hips never falters. He chuckles at your attitude and begins leaving gentle kisses down your neck, you sigh and lean into it…before remembering your frustration. You suddenly push him away and begin moving towards the front door. Jungkook, now frustrated as well, quickly grabs you before you can open the door to the hallway.

You let out a yelp before he slaps his hand over your mouth, his other wrapped around your waist. He walks you over to the bed before turning you around and pushing you down. “I’ve been patient baby, I’ve been trying to make you see my side but you keep pushing me.” He starts unbuckling his belt as he stands between your legs.

“Why won’t you see my side kook? I have to share you with the world…it’s like you don’t just belong to me but everyone else.” You pout at him, giving him boba eyes that nearly defeat his own. You sit up, dragging your hand up his crotch deciding to tease him as punishment, before he grabs your wrist. He finishes removing his belt and grabs your other wrist, before placing them together and using the belt to bind them.

You let out a surprised gasp as he grabs you by the waist and throws you back on the bed, before climbing up and sitting over you. He places your bound hands above your head with one hand before grabbing your face with the other. “Open.” You immediately open your mouth and stick out your tongue, eyes rolling back when Jungkook spits on your tongue. You swallow it before letting out a yelp as he slaps you in the mouth. “Did I say you could swallow it?” You shake your head before opening up again, he spits one, two, three times before shoving his middle finger to the back of your throat causing you to gag.

“The world gets to see me shirtless every once in a while and you go ahead and start acting like a slut.” He pulls his finger back, eyeing the spit that dripping from his finger and down your chin. He leans in to lick it from you before pulling you in for the filthiest, sloppiest kiss. “But they don’t get to see me the way you do Jagiya. They don’t get to see me absolutely ruin you in this fucking dress.”

He flips you over, slides himself between your legs and pulls your dress up around your waist before pulling your hips up. “These tiny little panties don’t cover much do they baby? If you had of bent over in the club, anyone could have seen this sweet little pussy. And I can’t have anyone seeing that…” He drags his fingers over the lace of your panties, feeling your arousal seep through them.

You jolt forward as he suddenly spanks your right ass cheek, before gently rubbing the mark he’d left behind. He then spanks the other side, again gently soothing your ass with soft touches. He continues this a couple of times, alternating sides and causing your arousal to soak through your tiny panties. He stops and uses both hands to rub over the welts on your behind with his finger tips, causing goosebumps to cover your body and have you attempting to lean away from his touch.

He grabs your hips, pulling your soaked pussy flush against his hips. You feel him through his jeans and you can’t help but rock back against him, despite the contact against your ass making you hiss. “Dripping for me already my jealous baby? Can feel you soaking my jeans, slutty thing. Like being punished jagiya?” You nod eagerly, making him laugh. He pushes your hips forward before pulling your panties to the side. You clench around nothing when you feel him spit on your exposed cunt, before using his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

You push back against him, trying to get more from him but he holds your hip with his free hand. You groan in frustration, “I want you to use me Kookie, show me what they can’t have. Show me what they’re missing out on.” This seems to have hit the spot with Jungkook, as he retracts his hand and flips you over onto your back. He reaches to the top of your dress and suddenly rips it down, the tiny straps no match for Jungkook’s strength. Your tits spill out as the dress tears and he groans at the sight.

He pulls the dress off you completely before leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Your back arches as his tongue swirls around the piercing on one, while his hand plays with the other. You hiss as he nips at your right nipple before leaving over and doing the same to the left. He sits up before spanking your tits, loving the way the red flush immediately covers your pale skin.

You stare up at him, pouting when you realise he’s still fully dressed while you’ve got nothing but your panties and heels on. He smirks down at you before reaching to the hem of his shirt and finally lifting it. You practically drool as you see the tan skin, abs and tattoos everyone else was thirsting over. “Mine.” You whisper. He looks down at you, his eyes darkening and he begins to move off the bed. He maintains eye contact as he undoes his jeans and drops them to the floor, you eye his fat cock straining against the black Calvin’s sitting low on his hips. He pulls them down, your legs rubbing together as you watch his cock slap against his belly.

He reaches down and starts rubbing his cock, tilting his head back with a hiss as he does so, knowing how much you love watching. He looks over at you, smirking at the way you’re pressing your legs together for some relief. Your hands are straining against the belt above your head. Your chest heaving with every breath as you watch the golden maknae spit down onto his cock as he strokes it.

He finally makes his way over to the bed, standing at the end and staring down at you before grabbing your ankles. He pulls you towards him and then presses your legs back in the filthiest mating press. He gets down on his knees before immediately devouring you. His tongue teasing your swollen clit before moving down to your dripping hole. The slurping noises are obscene and you can’t help but bring your belt bound hands down to grab at Jungkook’s hair. He allows you to pull, groaning into your pussy as you do so.

He suddenly pulls up, grabs your hands and places them above your head again.

He then moves up so he’s sitting on your chest, he grabs the back of your head and brings it forward. He grabs his cock and brings it to your lips, he rubs the tip of his cock over them before telling you to, “open up.” The angle causing a strain on your neck, but you still welcomed Jungkook’s cock into your mouth. “Relax your throat baby.” You do as you’re told before he starts ramming his cock down your throat. Using his hands at the back of your head for leverage, you thank the gods above that you have no gag reflex because you could feel his cock sliding down your throat. The sight of him towering above you, using your throat like is own cock sleeve had you dripping down your thighs.

He chokes out a moan as he looks down and sees you staring back up at him with a glazed out look in your eyes and spit dripping down the sides of your mouth. You looked absolutely ruined, but it wasn’t enough for him. He rips your head back by your hair and pushes it back down on the bed before flipping you over again. He pulls your hips up, landing another slap on your ass before grabbing your cheeks and spreading them. He lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth and drip down both your needy holes before he lines his cock up and slams all the way into your pussy without preamble.

You scream as he grabs your hair with one hand and pulls back, causing your back to arch in an almost painful way. Your arms still being wrapped tightly by the belt made it harder for you to hold yourself up. You look forward and see the giant mirror in front of you and your eyes immediately find Jungkook’s. But his are too hypnotised by the way your ass jiggles when he slams his hips against you, loving the sight of your arousal sticking to the fine hairs above his cock. “Show me why it’s yours baby. Show me why you’re the only one who can cream on this big dick.” He stops moving, still with a tight grip on your hair. You whine before starting to move your hips back, bouncing against him in an attempt to prove yourself.

“My pretty little slut. So desperate for me. You need more?” He asks with a huff, getting caught up in the feel of your pussy tightening with his filthy words. “P-please Kookie…make me feel good. It’s not enough..I-i can’t do enough.” You sob and look at him through the mirror as you try to continue your movements before Jungkook suddenly starts fucking you at a relentless pace again. His thick cock stretching you out like it was your first time all over again.

He lets go of your hair and rakes his nails down from your shoulders down to just above your ass. They’re just long enough to leave bright red marks down your back and a sting when touched. Your upper body now completely pressed into the bed as Jungkook keeps your ass up in the air as he continues fucking into you. He spanks your ass over and over again before dragging his nails down your ass cheeks, causing you to moan out and attempt to scramble forward.

He suddenly pulls out and flops down on the bed next to you and undoes the belt around your wrists. “Ride me Jagiya, I wanna see you come undone on top of me.” You eagerly climb on top of him, lifting your hips before grabbing his cock and sliding down on to him. Despite him already fucking you, the different position has you sucking in a breath as you take all of him in. He throws his head back as your pelvis makes contact with his, gripping your hips tightly before angling his hips up, encouraging you to start moving.

He grabs your hands and moves them to his chest, “mark me pretty girl, let everyone know.” You look down at him in shock. You’ve been together for 5 years now and he’s never let you mark him. He left his mark on you any chance he could…and anywhere he could. But the possibility of people seeing hickeys or scratch marks and then digging into his personal life, more so than they already do, was not a risk he was willing to take. So him asking you to do so now had you taken aback. Apparently your silence wasn’t good enough, suddenly he thrusts up into you causing you to fall forward. You put your hands on his chest as leverage and start riding him, digging your nails into his chest as you do so.

Jungkook lets out the filthiest moan as you drag your nails down his chest, the stiletto acrylics causing a sharp sting to run through the man’s chest. You look down and see the marks adorning your lovers chest and can’t help but grind down harder. The sight of your marks turning you on even more. You lean down to Jungkook’s neck and start to suck right under his ear, he leans his head back to give you more room and the grip on your hips grows harder as he begins to fuck up into you faster.

You’re bouncing down on him, the room filled with the sounds of both of your moans and the ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls against your sopping cunt. You sits up and wraps his arms around you, trying to hold you as close as possible. He looks up at you and grabs the side of your face with one hand, “all mine, you’re all mine Jagiya. And I’m all yours.” You stare back down at him before pulling him in for a passionate kiss. You continue kissing each other as your grinds grow sloppier against him. “I can feel it baby, I feel you. Let go.” He reaches down between you both to rub your clit.

You can’t help the loud yell that leaves your body as your orgasm suddenly hits. Your hips lift and Jungkook continues rubbing your clit as you squirt your release all over him. He pushes you backwards suddenly before climbing over you and pushing your legs back into a mating press and thrusting into you. His hips setting a brutal pace as he chases his high, his hands leaving bruises on your thighs with the way he was gripping them. You reach up and drag your nails down his chest again, “cum inside me Kookie, I want you to fill me.”

“That’s one way—to let people know I’m yours, huh Jagiya? F-fill you up…fuck! Fill you up with my baby? You’re my beautiful girl, how about I make you a beautiful eomma?” He chokes the words out as you grip down on his cock, making you feel impossibly tighter and bringing him closer to the edge. The final straw was you reaching up and wrapping your tiny hand around his throat and pressing. His orgasm rips through him as he continues slamming his cock into you, painting your insides with his cum.

Your hand slowly drops down from his throat, tracing down his chest as it heaves with each breath. He gently pulls your legs down, causing you to wince due to the position they were in, before also slowly pulling his softening cock out of your used hole. He bites his lip as he watches his cum slowly spill from you, before using two fingers to swipe it up and slide it back inside you. You gasp at the intrusion, before he leans down and catches it with a kiss. Your lips slowly move together, savouring each other and enjoying the feel of his body against yours.

He moves away causing you to pout, “I’ll be back, I need to get you cleaned up.” He grabs his discarded jocks and puts them on before quickly makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a cloth before coming back to gently wipe away any mess left on your skin before doing the same to himself. He places the cloth back in the bathroom before joining you back on the bed. He pulls you into him, both facing each other. He places on arm under your head and the other on your hip, drawing gentle circles with his fingers.

“You okay? I wasn’t too hard on you was I?” He reaches up to move some hair from your face. “No, you were perfect…” you look down at your hands, suddenly embarrassed by what you had to say. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t do it to upset me and don’t think anything of it. It’s just when I see the way some people talk about you…it bothers me. I can’t just go out and tell everyone that I’m yours can I?” You shrink into yourself, the insecurities suddenly coming forward.

Jungkook suddenly rises and tears start to fill your eyes, thinking you’ve said something wrong. He walks over to his suitcase, rummages around for a second before finding what he was looking for. You sit up as he makes his way over to you with an odd look in his eye. Your mouth drops in shock as he stops at the side of the bed and gets down on one knee. “Kook-“ you start, but he raises his hand to cut you off. He opens the box and the tears you were holding back begin to fall. It was beautiful. It was everything you could have imagined and more…and here was Jungkook, holding it in his hand like it was a grenade.

“I know this isn’t perfect but I can’t wait any longer….so here goes. I know that there’s times you’ll get frustrated with me and the way I behave. I know there’s times I’ll make mistakes and upset you, but I’ll do whatever I can to fix it. I know that my life is not normal and it probably never will be, which means yours won’t be either. But I’ll spend every day of my life, ensuring you have everything you could ever need or want. I’ll spend every day, reassuring you that you are the ONLY one that I want. I’ll spend every day, making sure you know how cherished you are. I couldn’t imagine anyone else being by my side for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

You let out a sob as you tackle him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. He rises from the floor before joining you on the bed, laying next to you and holding himself up with one arm. He stares down at you before leaning into kiss you, you kiss him back, ignoring the tears running down your face. You both pull away and he asks, “well? You haven’t answered me yet! I’m getting a little worried here Jagiya…”

You laugh before swatting his chest, “I would be honoured.” You both smile at one another before he grabs the ring from the velvet box and carefully sliding it onto your finger. You stare down at the ring for a second before looking up at Jungkook.